#kicking my feet like oh you liked this little thing i have devoted my soul and sanity to for five months Noo stop it😁😁

[lottiecrabie]

lottiecrabie I….. cannot believe you have just done that to us

the way I completely believed your gaslighting ass with zero doubt like I for sure thought you had maybe a thousands words written total literally wtf I am so impressed at your deviousness or maybe we’re just dumb HAHAHAHA

I am so glad I only had 20 mins of my work day left when I saw pfms 4 was up I do not think I could have survived longer than that hahahaha. I spent my entire afternoon and evening reading it and I am just. so so happy. thank you!!!!!!!!!!! it genuinely was everything I wanted and more ahhhhhh. worth the wait!!!!! ilysm

I FEEL SO MISCHIEVOUS😋😋 someone almost clocked me during the word game when they said Hmm you seem to have written more than you say😭 i’m so relieved that it lived up to the Very long hype!! i love you more bff👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩

[alastor-simp-page]

The Deal/Chains Prompt Charlastor - A little peek

I feel so bad. I wasn't able to finish it in time but I gotta put something out. I'm scrambling to finish it. Yippee! It's definitely interesting...I'm trying out a new writing style.

They're a bit OOC but I was inspired. And well, you all voted for Charlie owning Alastor's soul so that's what I'm trying to craft. This is for sure steering into dubious territory.

You walked into the room as anyone does. With such a simple action as that, I can glean enough information to know what I’m walking into. Gait, pace, smile or lack of, the way your chest rises and falls. Your eyes looked everywhere but me. Curious. You were the one to ask for me after all. And here you were, rubbing your bare arm and practically stumbling over your feet. 

Wearing a dress shirt with suspenders? Quite a curious thing for a lady of your stature. The way your hair falls over your shoulder tells me you had your nails digging into your scalp not even seconds ago. 

I suppose being the Princess of Hell was no small feat. And meeting the Radio Demon? No wonder you’re a wreck. A beautiful mess if that’s what I could call you? 

I stand, as it's the gentlemanly thing to do and put my arm out for you. I grin, “Why, hello there, darling. You must be Princess Charlotte! Correct?” You simply smile up at me, that sort of nervous one where the smile doesn’t quite reach the eyes.

“Yep, yep!” You say and quickly take my hand. Your hand is soft and warm, something that would melt in my grip if I grasped it too long. You let go far too soon, letting my hand fall back to my side. “But I go by Charlie. Just Charlie now,” You insist. I arch a brow. A name either meant to deny her parents wishes or to establish some sort of dominance in the hierarchy with a male name. I don’t pry, it's rude, after all! 

The fire in the fireplace roars in agony, tinting your blonde waves in a crimson glow, the same hue of those naive eyes. “So…um,” You kick your feet, something to distract you from your words. I understand, darling. My finger swirls around the sphere of my radio cane. An unfortunate habit I’ve contracted. “My Dad set up this meeting and well, I’m sure you know what it's about, right?”

Not simply your Dad…the King of Hell, the Little Guy downstairs as those upstairs liked to call him. Of course, I knew what it was about. It didn’t take a genius to ask around with that ever so charming (and sinister) smile of mine. Your little passion project: that ridiculous hotel. Redeeming the damned! There’s a reason why Purgatory was disbanded. 

I decided not to tell you that. See if you slip up or leave a few details out. I’m sure you will or you may blabber on for an eternity. “No, I have not, Charlie” is what I answered. 

You let out a little squeal and start pawing through your bag. Oh dear, this may have been a mistake. My ears perk up at that sound unwillingly, those blasted things. However that little squeal, that little sound, it's so enticing. I wonder how many sounds I can entice out of you by the time I’m done with you? Don’t you think so, dear Charlie? Make you scream? Cry? Moan my name? 

No, no, no. I’m getting quite too far ahead of myself. I haven’t even seen what you want. What our relationship pans out to be! Hah! Not that it isn’t hard to guess: help. Something a darling little damsel in distress needs I suppose?

You started to ramble on, “So…the Happy Hotel is all about redeeming sinners and I really…” I’m half listening to you. The rest of my senses devoted to the way you practically danced as you talked. The way you swirled and twirled, gripping the papers in your grasp, pictures drawn from the likes of a 4 year old high on Coca-Cola. It was your drawings, I knew, crudely crafted and having the right to be hung in a modern art museum. Still adorable nonetheless. 

However I’m sure no drawings, no art pieces, and no paintings could ever fully illustrate you. The artist would never pick the right color for the rose of your cheeks nor capture the flow of your hair. And certainly never capture that bubble of happiness you became. 

You cared. Care, love, cherish, what alien words in a world such as Hell. And no more, the daughter of Sin itself. Spawn of the Devil and of the treacherous first woman: Lilith. You wanted to help sinners. The worst of the worst. It was almost laughable, downright absurd. You? Daughter of the deviled goat man who offered the apple. Leading to sin taking a hold of the world? Guilt must be gnawing at your soul, the weight of your father’s actions falling onto your shoulders, the burden of family. Or simply because you cared? Because you wanted to help the worst of the worst have a chance to knock on the pearly gates? You’re a strange one, dear.

“So! What do you think, Alastor,” You ask. My name rolls off your tongue like it's etched there, like it belongs there. I rather like it.

I roll back my shoulders, hands twisting my bowtie into place. “It doesn’t matter what I think, dear.” It truly doesn’t. “Your father asked me to offer my services to you. So…do you require them?” Please say you do. 

That bubbly demeanor of yours drops and flips your smile into a frown. “Well, I need to know if you believe in me or not.” You say. Fair enough.

I stand and cross around the coffee table. Your crimson eyes widen at the movement. I aim to surprise, I suppose. I plop myself down beside you and you simply stare at me, shifting an inch. There’s no need to be afraid of me, darling. Well, I suppose it's fair.  

“Darling, what I’ve seen so far is a woman who deeply believes in her dream.” I mince my words, cutting them up in tasty pieces for you to devour. “There’s nothing more powerful than a person who cares. Truly cares about their cause. About their passion. And you seem to do just that.” I tap you on the shoulder. A small touch, nothing too much from stranger to stranger. I can see you’re listening, intently. Oh, you poor dear. Your eyes are wide, surprised. Has no one believed in you before? “Of course, I believe in you, Charlie!” I land it home, driving the stake in deep.

Oh, I can just see it through your glass porcelain face. You want someone to believe in you, don’t you? The way your rosy cheeks deepen in color tells me all I need. Hah, you’re desperate, aren’t you? Letting the Radio Demon of all people to encourage you?

“Thanks…” you say sheepishly. You’re bursting with joy. I know you are. You’re simply too ashamed to admit it. I can see it in the way you shift, look away, and how your chest heaves. You’re excited. Someone! Finally someone! You must think. 

“Again, I’ll offer my services again. Your father wanted you to meet with me for…well, my popularity with my radio station, correct? Get the word out to folks?” I tell you. It is what your father had told me quite stiffly. I guess it must have been your idea, no doubt. 

You rub your neck. You’re…unsure? I tilt my head. What are you about to do, dear? “Well, I said that at first but meeting you…I have a different idea.” I grin. You’re an interesting gal, aren’t you? Changing things up? Perhaps you’re less predictable than I previously thought.

“And what is that?” I lean in close and you lean away. My, my, my, you’re still a skittery little thing, aren’t you, darling? 

“I think you’re a nice guy but my Dad doesn’t really like you at all. And well, he only trusts someone if they're on a leash,” You say. Oh dear. This is going in a direction that I would not go in. A leash? That only meant one thing and it wasn’t something I was willing to bargain for today.

“You are aware there’s little trust if one must be put on a leash for there to be trust,” I say. It’s true. A leash is a walking prison. Move from place to place, try as you will to stretch it and it will still yank you back.

You murmur to yourself, “I know…” However your eyes sparkle. “But I think you’re going to like my offer! A deal if you will!”

Deal? Now that’s what I wanted to hear! My specialty! My hands weave together, cracking a knuckle one by one. You stare. You’re unsure. That seems to be a theme which always etches your face. The way your eyes crinkle and how your lips twitch. 

I have you just where I want you. I stab my cane into the floor, you flinch, and I rub my digit on the sphere where my good old mic blinks idly. “So, what are your terms, dear?” Words I plan to switch into: what are my terms. 

Something flashes within your crimson eyes. Something beyond that naive little princess you are. I couldn’t catch it in time, it slipped just as quickly from my grasp. What was that? Perhaps nothing. I hope nothing.

You stare back. I can feel the pressure of your gaze seemingly pressing into the space between my eyes like the cold barrel of a rifle. You’re getting bolder by the minute aren’t you? You clear your throat and fold your hands neatly in your lap. How princess-y of you.

“My terms are that…” Your eyes dart away. Good. You’re nervous again. Just how I like you. “...you can assist me on a much more personal level if…” Well, go on! I’m listening, darling! We may have all eternity but all this stalling is getting rather out of hand. “...my Dad said I can only make you my hotelier if I own your soul,” You say.

(Subject to change)

[fragrantpines]

i've been thinking about yangzhou rice for the past few hours. he suddenly somersaulted in my brain and now i can't get him out of my head [sighs lovingly]

so beware of this incredibly long ask because here's some of the scenarios i think of <333 i hope you enjoy!! ^^

imagine stargazing with yangzhou under the winter plum blossom tree—you pointing out the constellations while he gazes at you with tender and warm expression; a hint of longing in his emerald green eyes. 

imagine mutual pining with him BUT both of you are afraid to confess to each other because YOU think he doesn't have feelings for you then HE thinks he's not worthy of your affection and reducing himself as a lowly food soul. other food souls are rolling their eyes in annoyance because they want you to get together already!!!!!! [this is cliche i know <3]

imagine staring at the sight in front of you that resembles like a painting that brought out to life—yangzhou laying down on a seabed of various flowers, resting in tranquility; his blonde hair lying down and blown out like waves; a serene expression plastered on his face and some butterflies around him. you fall in love with him even more because of the sight because you're so lucky to have him <333

his first kiss with you are hesitant at first but later on your relationship, he always kisses you desperately and coveting—as if you're a mirage; an illusion that will vanish quickly once he pulls away. he kisses you with a vow for everlasting love; to be always by your side and remain devoted to you. if something or someone breaks the two of you apart just like last time—he'll travel the ends of the earth just to look for you; to find his way back to you because to him—you are his forever home. 

NOW IT'S DONE oh my god and ngl writing these scenarios got me out of my writer's block, i feel refreshed and satisfied!! 

also I WANT TO TEASE YANGZHOU SO BAAAAD BECAUSE I WANT TO SEE MORE OF HIS BLUSHING FACE 🥹 he's so adorable and cute when he blushes while getting shy and embarrassed 🥹❤️

okay that's it <333 also i'm the previous anon from before who found your blog and may i be zella anon pls??? i wanna gush more about food men and you seem fun to talk to !! hehe ❤️ enjoy your day and don't forget to hydrate!! 

– zella

Kicking my feet in the air while screaming because this entire thing is so so CUTE. I adore every single imagine here and the way each one written is (chef kiss) amazing, beautiful, showstopping, spectacular just like Yangzhou himself. Especially that last one because I can imagine when Yangzhou decides to pull away, he does it hesitantly as evident from his lips that shake the moment they part from yours and his hand that doesn't wish to let go of the warmth underneath his palm-- your warmth that he so desperately craves every waking moment, wishing that he could hold everywhere he went to but alas, Kongsang needs its master more than he needs you; and that very thought is enough to shake him to the core.

"I love you," he whispers, a silent plead for you to stay a little longer. If that isn't enough to convince you, then maybe another kiss will, and another, and another, and maybeeeee another....

Snsosnsksnjd I'm turning red but you get the idea. Also, you can absolutely be Zella anon and continue gushing about food men here. My inbox is always open for gushing, talking and ideas so feel free to drop by whenever!! Take care and hope you have a nice day 💕💕💕

[ooc-miqojak]

🔫 Would they ever sacrifice someone in order to save their own life? 😡 What would someone have to make them lash out in violent anger? 🎵 If they were going to torture someone, what music would they play while they did it?

Horrific Headcanons Pt 2

🔫 Would they ever sacrifice someone in order to save their own life?

"I mean...when I was first free from the demon's bonds, still new to my... 'altered' existence, I definitely sacrificed the soul of a stray, smitten warlock in order to exact some spiteful revenge on an old friend who'd left me to rot in the clutches of said prior demon. So, would I do the same to save my own life? Absolutely - without a doubt. Now, there would be conditions, naturally - not just anyone's life is up for trade, in my opinion. There's a reason I chose a warlock's soul to sacrifice, last time. That said? No kids, and preferably some shitbag who has it coming. Just because I'm changing doesn't mean all my morals go out the window. ...Yet, anyways. That said... I'm notoriously difficult to kill these days, so... very low chance of anyone needing to worry about being sacrificed for my life." 😡 What would someone have to make them lash out in violent anger?

"Oh, now we're asking the difficult questions... I feel like I've learned to laugh at most things, rather than lash out, however. Bad things happen to good people all the time - and while I was very angry at how my life went, how goodness and devotion and loyalty meant nothing, in the end... it's all a little mad. And maddening. So why take it seriously? Nothing matters. Everything is random. But what would it take to make me lash out in anger, rather than out of the need to sustain my more demonic parts? Harming children, for one. Let the innocent keep what they have until it's time to shed as much. There is plenty of time for the shadows of the future to crush them later, anyways." Here, booted feet kick up onto a nearby table, and the lengthy woman herself melts down into her seat, to better think, it would seem. "I struggle to imagine the scenario. Most insults to my person I've grown accustomed to - one must, really, once they look 'different' in any fashion... but especially when you are changed by a magic most fear and loathe. Anymore, I just hope for a little creativity and originality in the insult." Here, there's a slow sigh, and a more direct answer, at long last, "I suppose if I had anyone with whom I were particularly close, and they were threatened, or insulted... that would do it. I've always been a defender - whether it was with the Light, or now with Fel. Some things don't change, amidst the chaos."

🎵 If they were going to torture someone, what music would they play while they did it?

How did you know I both craved and dreaded this question? I have IDEAS, but it depends on the scenario - on who is being tortured, and what for. If it's just... someone she doesn't know? Maybe she's hired to torture, or something? Probably something fun and/or something that rocks hard. (The ways I think of to explain her outlook, and warped kind of outlook these days range from 'think Unseelie Fey' to 'think Joker/Harley Quinn', but it kind of boils down to 'fuck it, have a laugh!' Chaos, and all - you can still dance in the dark.)

So why not the literal Happy Song? Her belting out the "Let's go!" - then make the torturee sing along and do the 'S-P-I-R-I-T' part? (Or else?) Ugh, yes.

[philliamwrites]

koi no yokan

Fandom: Genshin Impact

Pairing: Kazuha / Aether

Tags: boys kissing, slight angst with happy ending, simping aether, practice sparring

Words: 2k

Summary: “A healthy mind in a healthy body,” Kazuha said, crossing the little circle they used as their practice area to the maple tree where they left their stuff. He took a dark cloth from his backpack and began wiping his body. Aether looked pointedly at the clear sky as if checking if one of Baal’s bolts would spontaneously flash and smite them. “Whatever thoughts trouble you will affect your performance and slowly but steadily deteriorate your physical capabilities.”

“Did the wind tell you that?” Aether wasn’t really into the idea that the gentle breezes cooling their hot skin spilt all his troubles. Be it his mourning for his absent sister or how horny he was for Kazuha. “Maybe the wind should just mind its own business.”

Notes: Inspired by @jeruki's fanart. My twitter: @philliam, my ko-fi: philliam

koi no yokan(恋の予感) (n.) lit. "Premonition of Love"; the sense one can have upon first meeting another person that the two of them are going to fall in love. It is the feeling that future love is inevitable.

In his journey through Teyvat, Aether had seen a lot of things. Dragons, assassins, sentient flowers shooting their frozen or burning seeds at him which never made for a funny joke when he and his party sat around the campfire in the cool evenings. Catboys grown into men who paid their taxes and lived a humble life near calm Springvale. Name it and Aether had seen it.

But Kaedehara Kazuha was something else entirely. When he fought, it was hard to look away. He had a dancer’s grace and a seemingly unerring instinct for what his opponent would do next. His sword wasn’t simply a weapon he swung to cut through enemy lines. It was part of him. Like Lumine completed Aether, Kazuha was only fully himself with a weapon in his hand. This kind of commitment Aether only knew from Xiao, but Kazuha made his devotion for battle look divine; so much purer. Almost innocent in a way that did not speak of foolishness or guilelessness or the innocence of a child that simply waited to be consumed by the world. Kazuha’s innocence was something honest, linked to the making at the heart of the world.

He looked happiest with his sword slicing through the air. He looked graceful plunging from the skies like a hawk pouncing to catch its prey. He looked deliciously fuckable with his hitatare slipping off his shoulders and revealing smooth, white skin glistening with sweat. Aether had noticed a little scar winking at him whenever the fabric slipped and wondered how it would taste like near that elegant curve where Kazuha’s chest turned to solid, firm abs. He imagined leaning over and tasting Kazuha’s skin and suck—

A harsh blow swiped his feet from under him. The world spun and for a moment Aether was flying again, soaring through the sky before golden eyes flashed in malice and his sister was taken from him. The reality of Lumine being absent would come to Aether in flashes. He knew it to be so, but he could not feel it to be true except in these sudden bursts of realisation. The light of that strange, unthinkable truth would dazzle him for a moment and then it would be gone again, a fleeting sense of terrible loss. The pain almost always felt the same, and all he could do in that moment was take it, endure the unbearable and bear it.

It ended as quickly as it stared. Aether’s back hit the hard ground, the impact punching the breath out of his lungs. He stared up at the beautiful crimson sky stretching overhead—red like so many things in Inazuma which was fitting for the country governed by a goddess with a taste for blood.

But then, Kazuha’s even more beautiful face bent over him.

“Focus, Aether,” he said, offering his hand. Aether imagined pulling Kazuha down next to him where they would roll in the dirt like two puppies, drunk on adrenaline and intoxicated with the addicting taste of defiling these sacred lands where the cries of helpless, innocent men would never be heard over the ever-present roar of thunder. Where neither of them was welcome.

Instead, he allowed Kazuha to pull him back up on his feet, slick skin against slick skin, with a swift ease that left little room for imagination how else he could manhandle Aether. He swallowed, his mouth dry.

Kazuha exhaled softly, and even in that companionable silence Aether had grown used to, it was loud enough to catch his attention. “Where are your thoughts, Aether?” Kazuha asked.

Aether kicked some pebbles. He could hardly confess how he imagined sucking Kazuha off. Somehow he didn’t think someone as versed, with a soul consumed by wanderlust like Kazuha, would like to hear that. So he simply shrugged, inspecting the hilt of his wooden practice sword as if it could be held accountable for his lack of focus.

“Oh, you know,” he said, shrugging. “Archons and Visions and the like. The usual stuff.”

Kazuha’s eyebrows rose. Aether held his stare for a long minute but ended up turning away first. Somehow he didn’t believe secrets could be kept hidden for too long from those keen scarlet eyes, and while he wouldn’t mind presenting his body to him, he wasn’t too comfortable bearing his very soul to someone he’d known for less than a month. He wondered if that even mattered. He had let Kaeya rail him in much shorter time than that.

“A healthy mind in a healthy body,” Kazuha said, crossing the little circle they used as their practice area to the maple tree where they left their stuff. He took a dark cloth from his backpack and began wiping his body. Aether looked pointedly at the clear sky as if checking if one of Baal’s bolts would spontaneously flash and smite them. “Whatever thoughts trouble you will affect your performance and slowly but steadily deteriorate your physical capabilities.”

“Did the wind tell you that?” Aether wasn’t really into the idea that the gentle breezes cooling their hot skin spilt all his troubles. Be it his mourning for his absent sister or how horny he was for Kazuha. “Maybe the wind should just mind its own business.”

The wind picked up, tossing Aether’s hair left and right so it came even more loose after their sparring. He was sure his mind played tricks on him, but somewhere in the distance it sounded like Venti’s clear, bell-like laughter. If this was his weird way of trying to set him up, Aether was not happy with it.

“No, you just did.” Kazuha finished cleaning himself, but was in no apparent hurry to tie up his hitatare. When he looked back up at Aether, his smile was a little mischievous but still gentle, and Aether wanted to kiss that stupid grin away. He flopped down next to Kazuha. Dry maple leaves rustled under his body and he took one in his fingers, turning it this and that way just so he could observe the crimson and stall time.

If he met the Raiden Shogun and she didn’t have the answers he desired, then what? How much longer would he have to journey, to tread foreign countries and dangerous lands until he found what Lumine needed him to see? Why was this arduous task better suited than simply telling him? The only logical answer was that during her own travels, Lumine had grown to not trust him in a way only she understood and couldn’t confide in him. The thought closed like a cold fist around Aether’s heart. There was nothing logical about that, for if Lumine chose to hide her heart from Aether, where would that leave him? Loneliness spread like a dark stain inside him, a horror that stole his breath and tightened his chest. Black dots danced across his vision. Aether noticed his body moving without his will, he sat up, afraid he might suffocate. His heart. His heart wasn’t in his chest anymore. It was in his throat, making it hard to breathe. Just thinking she doesn’t need me, Lumine is gone forever and all I have loved, I have loved alone—

A warm hand grasped his, squeezing his fingers painfully until his splintering mind reassembled to the present. Aether stared at Kazuha with wide eyes, filled with horror, with fear, he just couldn’t understand how anyone bore that loneliness without a twin, without another part of their soul bearing the harsh world with them and give comfort and respite.

“Aether?”

Aether flinched, only noticing then how close Kazuha hovered near his face. When he looked down, he saw how his golden strands were caught between Kazuha’s slender fingers.

“There was a maple leaf in your hair,” Kazuha said, not taking his eyes away from Aether.

“Oh.” Aether’s reeling thoughts momentarily halted at this whimsical observation, so simple and apart from his anxious feelings. He looked up at the grand tree above them, crying red leaves. “Really?”

Kazuha still looked at him. A gentle tug lowered Aether’s head back down.

“No,” he said, and then kissed him. His soft lips brushed against Aether’s once, then twice and then he pressed his mouth to his, pushing Aether to the solid, hard ground. One leg stole between Aether’s, pressing a knee against his crotch, and Oooh. Until now, Aether had thought Kazuha to be soft and restrained, a man more servant to the voice of nature than his own desires. But there was nothing soft or restrained about the way he pinned Aether to the ground now, stole his breath and swallowed all those little huffs and moans, making Aether go crazy with lust.

Swift fingers dug into his bare waist. Aether was looking forward to the bruises he’d see blossoming the next morning. Their bodies pressed together hard; Aether arched his back, hoping that if he just willed it hard enough, he would become one with Kazuha and fill that gnawing black hole inside him. Kazuha reached out and put his thumb to Aether’s jawline. The tips of his fingers brushed the hollow of his throat and pushed against the pulse point where Aether’s blood visibly thundered in exalting beats against his skin.

Kazuha’s tongue darted across Aether’s lower lip. Willingly, Aether opened his mouth, longing to savour his taste and finally quench his thirst for the exquisite being that Kaedahara Kazuha was.

But Kazuha remained still, their mouths inches away from each other, each inhaling the other’s breath. Aether opened his eyes, meeting Kazuha’s that had turned so much darker. Wilder.

“You don’t even know what you do to people, do you?” he mumbled against Aether’s lips. His nose grazed his cheek as he dove for Aether’s jawline, his neck, mapping Aether’s face with his lips and teeth. Aether remembered Kazuha saying once that he smelled like stars, and wondered how that worked.

“What—“ Aether exhaled a long, shuddering breath. “—do you mean?” He tried to buck up into Kazuha, to create some delicious friction between them, but Kazuha’s grip around his waist was like iron. Aether whined, but Kazuha made with one, sharp bite pretty clear that whatever happened would only happen on his volition.

“The way you move, the way you look and think no one notices.” Amusement stole into Kazuha’s voice. “Or might you think only I don’t notice?”

“I am anything but subtle,” Aether acknowledged, planting a kiss on Kazuha’s temple. He chuckled against Aether’s skin. “And you don’t necessarily make it easier, fighting like this.” His hands sneaked inside Kazuha’s hitatare, fingers trembling with excitement spread against his warm chest.

Kazuha inhaled sharply. His own fingers trailed a path up Aether’s waistline, nails scratching the sensitive skin and sending shivers all over his body. “Look who’s talking. It’s hard focusing on anything else with you walking around like this.”

Aether laughed, dark and rich. “It’s my pleasure.”

“No.” Kazuha tugged the fabric of Aether’s black collar down and kissed his neck. “It’s mine.”

Aether didn’t know how long they stayed like this, cradled against the maple tree’s trunk, growing drunk on kisses and lust and the taste of each other until their lips were bruised. At some point, they had dozed off under the setting sun that made way to twinkling stars that winked at them in mischief. Only they knew the secrets and confessions they shared, absolving one another from their darkest sins.

“I know you seek your sister,” Kazuha said, studying the joints and bumps on Aether’s fingers before he brought them to his lips. “We both follow steps of people dear to us, choosing to ignore we only run after shadows. I think that is why my soul refuses to leave you.”

Familiar pain throbbed in Aether’s chest, but where it once was sharp and overwhelming, it now had softened to a dull song. Bearable. “I’m sure one day we’ll catch up to them.” He intertwined his legs with Kazuha’s, felt the warmth radiate off his body. “Together.”

[stillbandofbrothersthirsty]

Easy Company as One Direction Songs

~ These are my headcanons inspired by 1D songs. I’d love to hear your thoughts :) ~

Dick Winters - I SHOULD HAVE KISSED YOU

“It's all that I can think about Oh, you're all that I can think about”

Mr. Perfect who’s always in his own head. Winters is calm and collected and almost cold in a first encounter. However, after his initial attraction, he will proceed to dissect every moment for what he could’ve and should’ve done. The only thing that will satiate him is getting to know the person he’s just found himself falling for.

Harry Welsh - OLIVIA

“I live for you, I long for you, Olivia I've been idolizing the light in your eyes, Olivia”

The majority of the lyrics in this song isn’t very Harry Welsh-esque because he truly is such a subtly steadfast lover. It’s the general tone that encapsulates his initially facetious manner, and once you get into the lyrics you see how much he truly cares.

Lewis Nixon - MIDNIGHT MEMORIES

“Tell me that I'm wrong but I do what I please Way too many people in the Addison Lee”

This vagabond bachelor-wannabe is here for a good time not a long time. Nixon can fall in and out of love in a single night. At his core he knows who he is and doesn’t need anyone to “save him”, so he’s just playing the most enjoyable version of this game, life.

Ronald Spiers - FOOL’S GOLD

“But I know in my heart, you're not a constant star And yeah, I let you use me from the day that we first met”

On the surface, Spiers seems eager and reckless. But on a deeper level he invests himself completely in his companies, his missions, and eventually his wife. His fervent looting seems to be a desperate lure to keep his wife who eventually defaults back to her first husband.

Carwood Lipton - WHERE DO BROKEN HEARTS GO

“All the rest of my crimes don't come close To the look on your face when I let you go So I built you a house from a broken home”

Lipton is the first to discount himself. He is constantly striving to better and never realizes the impact he actually has on those around him. Lipton is the guy to sacrifice a love he underestimates for duty, for career, then immediately realize the mistake he made. He will spend the rest of his life making up for that.

Floyd Talbert - ALIVE

“I asked the doctor, "can you find out what is wrong with me? I don't know why I wanna be with every girl I meet”

Floyd has this incredible likability that allows him to get away with what would be offensive if anyone else did it. He’s a huge flirt (and then some) and even resigns his position as 1st sergeant all while maintaining the love and admiration of all that know him. If this were high school, he’d be the kid who always kicked his feet up on his desk, “just chillin’”, and graduates salutatorian.

George Luz - STAND UP

“I would walk through the desert, I would walk down the aisle, I would swim all the oceans just to see you smile, Whatever it takes is fine”

Luz is nothing if not persistent. He’ll shoot his shot until he runs out of bullets. And for all of his comedic charm, he is hopefully devoted to his partner like he is devoted to living life for all of its joys and pleasures.

Joe Liebgott - STORY OF MY LIFE

“Leave my heart open But it stays right here in its cage”

He talks about finding a wife and having lots of little Liebgotts but there’s a sharp edge to Liebgotts heart that hurts him as much as it protects him. He wants to be open to love but he can’t seem to push past the walls he has up. His sharp tongue defends himself with cheap remarks and dark jokes.

Don Malarkey - HOME

“I was stumbling, looking in the dark with an empty heart But you say you feel the same, Could we ever be enough?”

Clearly he is just wrecked by the end of the war. However, we’re reminded of the happy-go-lucky kid who sat down to chat with an enemy soldier when he pops champagne in the Eagles Nest. This song is simply Malarkey; an acknowledgement of heartbreak with tentative hope for a simple, yet satisfying, love.

Joe Toye - LOVE YOU GOODBYE

“Oh, even though it's over you should stay the night, If tomorrow you won't be mine, Won't you give it to me one last time?”

Just imagine Toye as a deeply passionate romantic. He’s this gruff, most badass soldier but it’s revealed (especially in Malarkey’s book) that he is incredibly sensitive. He won’t grovel or protest; but his flame is only extinguished, it doesn’t burn out as embers.

Bill Guarnere - THEY DON’T KNOW ABOUT US

“Oh, they don't know about the things we do They don't know about the I love you’s”

Guarnere is the cock of the walk who confidently charms any lady who passes him on the street. He’s the kind of guy to flirt high and low but always return home to his partner. Guarnere would never truly hurt or betray the one he loves.

Buck Compton - READY TO RUN

“Then there's me inside a sinking boat, running out of time Without you, I'll never make it out alive”

At his best, Buck is a grand ol’ time. At his lowest, his empathetic love for all his people takes him to a dark place. Buck is ready to escape the pain of the world and live life vivaciously with whoever will take him as he is.

Skip Muck - STEAL MY GIRL

“She be my queen, Since we were sixteen We want the same things, We dream the same dreams”

Skip is the kind of guy to have a high school sweetheart. Imagine him knowing his partner’s family so well that he can just walk into the house, kiss his partners mom on the cheek, and help himself to the fridge. He’s the kind of guy to help his partner’s dad with housework before going home to shower only to return to take his partner out to the movies. Such a wholesome kind of love that is unwavering and constant.

Doc Roe - STRONG

“I'm sorry if I say, "I need you" But I don't care, I'm not scared of love”

It takes a minute for Roe to get there with people; he has carefully constructed boundaries. But once he’s in, he’s in. He has seen too much pain, too many soul crimes, to not find strength in true love when it’s right there in front of him.

Babe Heffron - FIREPROOF

“I roll, and I roll 'til I'm out of luck Yeah, I roll, and I roll 'til I'm out of luck”

This song’s feel good beat is Babe; it’s an unperturbed rhythm singing about a steady kind of love. Babe probably didn’t see this love coming but picked it up so seamlessly as it came along that it was as if it always had been.

Frank Perconte - TAKEN

“Now that I finally moved on You say that you missed me all along”

Perconte is the type to fall victim to the on again-off again love. Often times, he is underestimated for what he has to offer. Unfortunately, his presence is missed only when it’s gone - a gap. He has a hard time saying goodbye once he’s attached because he loves so purely. But inevitably, with time, those idealist dreams of a traditional romance will be tainted by inexperience and indecision.

[bitchfitch]

Conall woke to the smell of cinnamon and burning hair. His nose scrunched and his lips curled in a silent snarl he wasn't awake enough to suppress as he sat up in the bed he kept trying to escape. 

His every bone protested as he stood, and his muscles shook, with the aftermath of another full moon spent hunting through the woods like a common beast after being twisted into the shape of one by this stupid fucking curse. He managed to get his feet steady under him as he sought out the absolute bastard that kept dragging him back here. 

Arlo was where he always was, sat in front of the vanity in one of the bedrooms with his fingers combing through his stupidly long hair. He huffed as a greeting, not even bothering to look at Conall as he picked at a few strands and started the work of braiding it all into a manageable length. 

One of these days Conall was going to take a pair of shears to it all. Just to be cruel, just to stoop to Arlo's level.

"Why am I here," Conall demanded, "I left, I told you I had no interest in staying," 

"Yes well you see, I didn't bring you back here," Arlo retorted, "You crawled back all on your own, and collapsed on my doorstep like you do every damm month," 

"You know full well its your stupid curse that keeps brainwashing me back here," Conall stormed up to his side and was step away from grabbing him before that stupid curse twinged and forced any ideas of hurting the stupid unicorn out of his skull with a painful snap, 

"It's not a curse, Its not My curse, and there's nothing to do about it that I Haven't already done," 

"I'm sorry, do you just expect me to believe you have nothing to do with the curse that makes me want to protect you? That turns me into a dog everytime you are at your most powerful? You Truly believe I'm that stupid?"

"I believe you're that stupid, because you can't see that that's the truth, I didn't give you this blessing, I didn't make it. I didn't even know it was still kicking around until I Saved your sister from it," he spat,

"Fucking Explain it then, Explain why you are such a fucking liar," Conall had to swallow down bile as Arlo's hurt bumped up against the stupid curse.

"Im Not A Liar. And it's a long fucking story," Arlo snapped at him, 

"Then get fucking talking," Conall didn't care that he was scraping gouges in the wooden floor as he dragged a chair closer and dropped into it with a heavy huff. 

Arlo rolled his eyes and sneered as he started, his tone that of someone telling a bed time story to a brat they didn't particularly like, "Once upon a time, there was a queen who ruled an expansive and beautiful kingdom. She was perfect, and regal, and swelteringly kind, and most of all she was devoted to making sure her people Thrived no matter the cost.

So, one day, she gathered her kingdoms most powerful sorcerers, calling them each by name as she beheaded them and drained them of every drop of blood they had to give before rending the meat from their bones so that those may be used too.

When she was done she poured it all into her cauldron, and preyed and chanted and sang as she cut her own heart from her chest and dropped it into her brew.

The blood boiled around this offering so willingly and lovingly given, and the magic found her soul and bound it back together as the first of her children rose from the pot with her mounted on his back. 

He was a bull, white like the clouds above and as thick around the middle an entire chariot was wide, with golden hooves and single horn jutting from his forhead as he galloped and pranced with the reborn queen laughing on his back. 

The second was a similarly single horned war horse, white and gold but smaller than the bull that came before him. Still, he was stunning as he joined the joyful parade with blood clinging to his coat. 

The donkey was next, again with one horn growing from the center of his skull like a stake. Short and lean but powerful as he charged along with his brothers and their perfect mother. 

Then the deer burst forth, his single horn forked as he bounded so proudly around the room, leaping and prancing over the ruined remains of their imperfect fathers and other mothers. 

Finally a goat clambered out after them all, bleating and struggling to keep pace with his long legged family. He was the runt, the weakest, made from the dregs of the sorcerers' magic. 

The queen saw her runt and opened her arms to him and carried him on his brother's back. None of her children would ever be forgotten, or allowed to be trampled as long as she was there to protect them.

The family, complete and beautiful and perfect burst from the chamber and into their palace, the joyful cries of the people echoing through the halls at the sight of their reborn queen. They screamed and screamed as they welcomed her children into their court by offering up a feast of a first meal for their hungry mouths. 

The Queen's already prosperous land Flourished as though spring had finally hit after a year of winter. Her beloved and perfect and powerful children served their people with joy in their hearts. No one in the entire land ever went hungry, no field was ever blighted with rot, no wound left un-mended nor was even a single disease allowed to spread. The coffers were full and gold paved the streets, the water of their rivers and lakes ran crystal clear and sweet like honey.

The Perfect Queen and her Perfect children were worshiped by their people, but such beautiful perfection bred vile envy. 

A vile and selfish little human crept into the children's rooms one night. A lasso in one hand and a dagger in the other as it hunted through the corridors, looking for which one it would steal away from its family. 

But oh that silly little thing, weak and stupid as it was. It found the children curled up together with their mother watching over them. 

The Queen cought it before it could even take a single step, her wings beat as she dragged it out the window with her, her claws digging into its soft body threatening to destroy it completely. But in her divine mercy, she lifted it higher and higher and higher, twisting and bending its imperfect shape into something even more grotesque. 

She landed with it held in her arms and she called to her children, who of course always headed their mother's call.  

She laid the creature at their feet and told them that it would protect them now, that it was their pet and that they should look after it, that they should love it so that it would love them. 

That was the first werewolf, it stood guard over their rooms and when others like what it had been came close it would tear into them and spread its gift. They would turn too then, and join it in its guarding. 

Though, the children only ever loved the first of their precious dogs. The rest were too much fun to not play with. So, long as at least one lived, they could do whatever they pleased with the others. So they did. They tore them apart and painted their rooms in their blood and takes their hides with their brains and the children made their mother necklaces and crowns and bracelets and rings and every other little bobble they could from those precious wolves' bones.

The children loved their mother, so of course they wanted to lavish her with every gift they could. She had already given them so much, it was only fair.

The perfect family and their perfect pets weren't allowed to be happy forever though. A man, A king, their mother told the children to call him that, came into their home and soon their mother was heavy with his imperfect children. 

She assured her eldests that this was only a means to an end, that she needed an heir. Someone who would look after her perfect children when she was gone. She told them that while the children the king gave her would never be perfect, she would make them so. Just like she made herself perfect, just like she made all of them perfect, she would make these new lives perfect too.

To prove her devotion to the children born from the blood of her heart instead of the water of her womb, she gave the first of the king's imperfect offspring to them.

Oh how the king sobbed as they ripped it to shreds. Its awful little body not even worth being made into a gift for their mother.

The second was allowed to grow. Their mother would bring him to her perfect children every day and have each of them lay a blessing on him until he too was perfect. 

Only then did they welcome him as a brother. Only then did they begin to follow his orders like they did their mother's.

Oh how foolish those perfect children were.

Death came for their mother one night, her blood stained the long dead king's son's hands. 

Were he anyone else, they would have destroyed him just like they did that first child the king gave their mother. But their own blessings made him immune to their curses and their powerful bodies. Their mothers own blood protected him even when it hadn't protected her.

The Queen's perfect children cried and shrieked their mourning, and refused to lay their gifts on any of the cruel and selfish humans. It was their blood that ran in their littlest and most vile brother's veins, why should they serve any that would dare to share a history with him?

The new King did not have the patience for his perfect siblings. So he stole away their hounds and sent them to war, all but the one they loved, he killed that one in front of them and made them watch as it begged and suffered. 

Then, when they continued to refuse to obey him, he took everything they had. He took their hair and their eyes and their horns, and the skin off of their flesh, then the flesh off of their bones and then he took those too. And he took until there was nothing left and those perfect siblings of his were gone,"

Arlo looked back to his mirror his shoulders tense and his hands shaking with ancient grief, "Then, one day many years later, when the Perfect Queen and her perfect children were only whispered myths, a pair of witches gathered all of their magic and the corpse of their beloved sister. 

They went to the place that the Perfect Queen's castel had once stood and called on the fragments of her children, They pulled the goat, the weakest of his siblings from the aether and begged for him to revive their sister. 

He looked at the humans, and saw only their selfish ways. But he could not return to his rest. No, they held him there and demanded he do what they asked. Said they would never let him go if he didn't. Said they would damn all of his brothers to that horrid… inbetweenness of not being fully alive and not fully dead while being all to aware of it.

So, he looked them in the eye and made them a deal, Their sister's heart would beat and her body would walk again, but they must never attempt to summon his brothers. 

They were stupid, and agreed.

The goat took the dead sister's body as his. Her heart beat, and she walked and talked, but it was him who was in control.

He damned himself to this existence, knowing the witches had no way of killing him, nor did they have a way to summon his brothers while the body was being used. 

Years passed again, now with the goat alone in the palace he had shared with his perfect family. Unable to leave because if he did some other ungrateful and selfish human might try to take from him again. They might not care about destroying the body he wore like the witches did, and if the body was destroyed, the witches might try to summon and damn his brothers. 

So the goat lived in the buried castle and watched the world above through his mirror, and eventually he began talking to the witches, he was so dreadfully lonely that even their vile company held value. 

Other horrid little humans would stumble close sometimes. He'd kill them on sight, Or curse them until their blood boiled in their veins, or he'd give them something that looked like a blessing just so they would lead more to him. It was the only fun he could have without risking his physical body being known. 

But then the witches finally promised the goat a kindness. They told him that the wolves his mother had made for her perfect children still spread their blessings, but that with the unicorns dead and gone they had turned to vile beasts as they desperately searched for their charges. 

The goats heart ached but then it soared when the witches told him that there was one being brought to him.

A little girl, they told him it was, a child so young that if he loved and cared for it it would grow up to love and care for him in return. He remembered the precious wolf he shared with his brothers and Gladly accepted the offer for them to let him care for it.

Offering them a loc of his hair and blood from his veins. He knew how to not be selfish, unlike the humans, he knew that you always offer something in return.

They took what he gave, but when they brought him his pup, she was in the arms of a strange man. 

He collapsed onto his knees and begged for his sister to be cured tears staining his..."

Arlo hesitates, looking at Conall and picking his next words carefully, 

"His face, that the goat had initially found repulsive but no longer minds. The goat was about to kill the awful and pathetic creature, about to take his precious pup to show her to the room the goat had put together just for her. But then the man's words registered.

He wasn't begging, he wasn't asking to take. He was offering everything he had for the goat to save his sister from a perceived suffering. 

And the goat didn't see the witches making cruel demands and threats. He didn’t see that monster of a half brother demanding he and his perfect brothers work for the creature that killed their mother. 

He saw himself, and he saw his perfect brothers, and their mother. He saw his family always looking out and protecting eachother. 

The man asked for the goat to cure his sister of her blessing, and in return he would give everything he could. 

The goat's heart broke. He wanted, truly wanted, to help a human for the first time since his mother's passing. But he couldn't do what the man asked. His mother was far more powerful, and even now centuries after her death and many many generations removed, her blessing still held stronger than the goat could ever hope to be able t overpower. 

So he made the man, the pure and clever human who knew not to take without giving something in return, an offer. 

The goat couldn't destroy the blessing, but if the man could offer up another to take his sister's place, the goat could transfer it to them." 

Arlo looked back to his mirror, where he saw only Conall's reflection, as he finished the last braid, "I think you know the rest," 

A long moment passed as Conall tried to reconcile the story he was just told with the monster- no, the man, he sat across from.

"Were you really going to take care of Asena?" Conall asked, his voice low and quiet, as though speaking too loudly would break the careful peace between them, 

"I was going to raise her as though she were my own. I was so excited to teach her magic, and to give her all the blessings I could... I guess the witches are doing that now though," He leaned forward against the worn wood of his vanity and rested his chin on his folded arms, "I was going to have a family again," he wiped at his eyes before the tears could spill,

"I'm sorry, Conall," he sighed

"Why?" Conall tried not to sound surprised at such a genuine sounding apology,

"I know those weren't the answers you wanted. I know you wanted me to tell you that it had all been a trick and I could just snap my fingers and cure you of my mother's blessing," 

"No, those weren't the answers I wanted but..." Conall didn't know what to say next, so he said nothing and just settled a hand on one of Arlo's thin shoulders. He squeezed it softly as he felt Arlo go rigid under his touch for just a moment before practically melting beneath his palm. 

Conall had the sinking realization that this might very well be the first time anyone has touched Arlo since his entire family was killed. 

Conall had the sinking realization that the same might be true for himself.

"Please," Arlo whimpered burrying his face in the crook of his arm, "Please, I don't want you to feel trapped here, but please stay, I'll offer whatever I can, but Conall please stop leaving me alone here," 

"I..." he tried to swallow down the words before they could damn them both, but he was so much weaker than The Perfect Queen's blessing,

"Of course,"

[jaskicr]

fae!jaskier and geralt get married. they get to wear dresses, geralt is a blushing bride who gets picked up by jaskier, and they’re both very soft and smitten

summary:

“Geralt,” Jaskier exhales, and opens his eyes with a soft smile. “Gods, I can’t wait. You’re stuck with me forever, Geralt of Rivia.”

“Forever,” Geralt agrees, and Jaskier curls a hand around Geralt’s neck, bringing their foreheads together. “Eternity, with you.”

“No take-backs,” Jaskier whispers, his breathing warm against Geralt’s face.

“No take-backs,” Geralt affirms, and Jaskier kisses him, sweet and tender. Geralt basks in the warmth of Jaskier’s body against his, sinking into the feeling of being loved and cherished, into the knowledge that Jaskier will be his, and he will be Jaskier’s, forever.

*

After five decades of travelling together, Geralt brings Jaskier to the coast and proposes. They get married in the fae realm, surrounded by their family, binding their souls together as they promise each other eternity.

—-

It’s time, Geralt decides. The medallion is in his pocket, has been there for weeks, a heavy weight that constantly reminds him of what he needs to do.

It’s time. They’ve been travelling together for five decades now, and it’s been two decades since Geralt had come to his senses, demanding why Jaskier didn’t age. Jaskier had laughed at him for finally noticing, confessing to being an immortal fae prince, and Geralt had finally, finally let himself kiss the love of his life, who was immortal and would be by his side for eternity, never leaving him.

These decades have been the best years of Geralt’s life, filled with light and joy and love, Jaskier by his side every step of the way. They’ve been through everything together - hateful humans, deadly monsters, even raising a child - they’ve been through so much together, and Geralt is secure in the knowledge that their partnership is forever. He’s happy to continue as they are, but he’s seen the way that Jaskier looks at couples with rings around their fingers, seen the way that Jaskier’s eyes glow with longing when he plays at a wedding, and Geralt wants to give him this one thing.

He’s been planning this for weeks, Yennefer popping in to help him with directions, Eskel and Vesemir’s advice from months ago burned into his mind. For the past few weeks, Geralt has been subtly nudging the course of their travels towards the coast, towards what many have called the most beautiful view on the Continent.

They’re not far now. Geralt catches the distant crash of waves against the shore, and next to him, Jaskier inhales deeply and smiles, soft and content, the salty scent of the ocean carrying on a cool breeze.

Jaskier is gorgeous like this, relaxed and smiling as he basks in the beauty of nature, and in that moment, Geralt can see the fae in him, in the way nature calls to him, in the way he wraps himself in nature’s embrace, painting his eyes a little too blue, his features slightly too sharp, and Geralt gazes at him, transfixed, scarcely able to believe that Jaskier is his.

Then Jaskier gasps, and Geralt knows that he must sense how close they are to the coast, the sea drawing him in. “Geralt, can we go there, please?” Jaskier begs, tugging at Geralt’s sleeve as he points in the direction of the ocean. “Please, it’ll be worth it, please!”

Geralt pretends to think about it, as if he hasn’t been planning this for weeks, relenting easily when Jaskier pouts at him. “Fine. But only because you asked.”

“How sweet of you,” Jaskier coos, pecking Geralt on the nose before he darts off, dragging Geralt with him with inhuman strength, and Geralt lets himself be towed along, smiling in the wake of Jaskier’s excitement.

When they emerge to an endless beach, white sand glittering under the sun and fading into the crystal blue of the waves, Jaskier gasps in delight and races towards the ocean, sand kicking up beneath his feet as he laughs, wild and bright and free. Geralt follows him with warmth in his heart, watching Jaskier soak up the ocean breeze and the sun rays.

Jaskier had always loved the coast.

Jaskier doesn’t bother rolling his trousers up, only kicking off his shoes hastily as he wades into the blue ocean, waves lapping at his ankles. He spins around with a wide grin, arms stretched open as the ocean breeze tousles his hair. “Geralt, this is -”

He breaks off, mouth dropping at the sight before him. “Geralt, oh my god,” he whispers, and his blue eyes glow.

Geralt is on one knee, arms extended, cradling a medallion in his hands, a hand-crafted medallion with a growling wolf wrapped around a buttercup, the metal gleaming in the sun.

Geralt had designed it himself, forged it himself, pouring his heart and soul into it, a token of his love and devotion, and now, on the coast, he offers his heart to Jaskier, cradled gently in his hands.

“Jaskier.” Geralt’s heart is pounding faster than it ever has in his unnaturally long life. “My bard.”

“Yes.” Jaskier’s voice is barely audible, fluttering in the wind, lost in the crash of the waves.

“Half a century,” Geralt murmurs, taking a deep breath. He has - well, he had a speech prepared, drilled into his head by Ciri and Yennefer and his brothers, but at the sight of Jaskier, so utterly breathtaking as he stands in the middle of the wild beauty of the sea, blue eyes sparkling in the shining sun, the words flee his mind. “Love - I - Jaskier -”

“Yes,” Jaskier repeats, taking a step closer and stretching out his arms.

Geralt swallows, the moment stretching out in the air between them, fragile and hopeful, a beacon to the future. “Will you -”

“Yes, Geralt, always yes,” Jaskier breathes, dropping to his knees and taking Geralt’s face in his hands. “Forever, my love, I’ll give you forever and more, I promise you eternity.”

Slowly, Geralt loops the medallion around Jaskier’s neck with trembling hands, overcome with a swell of emotion, and Jaskier chokes out a sob, tears shining in his eyes as he peppers Geralt’s face with kisses. Geralt lets him, circling his arms around Jaskier and tugging him closer, closer, ever closer. And they stay there, wrapped in each other and surrounded by the waves and the sun and the sand, nature enfolding them in a loving embrace, and Geralt basks in Jaskier’s presence, his love and his light.

When Jaskier finally pulls back, his face is alight. “I’ve been waiting for this for so long.”

Geralt flushes. “I should’ve done it sooner, but I -”

“I don’t need you to propose to know that you love me, darling witcher.” Jaskier presses a feather-light kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Though I must say, you never actually said the words.”

“You knew what I was asking, anyway,” Geralt mumbles. It’s not his fault that Jaskier is so stunning that Geralt’s brain empties itself of coherent words.

Jaskier lets out a tinkling laugh. “It’s been half a century. Of course I knew what you were asking.”

link to ao3 in reblog

[writeblrfantasy]

excerpt from a council of golden swords: tattooed cairic king

planned this scene weeks ago, forgot about it, enjoyed writing it immensely. poor kayani, they're so in love

anyway i hope you love this as much as i loved writing it, acogs has been kicking my ass this week and this was a nice battle won

~

Asma crosses her arms. “Take off your shirt.”

Kayani chokes on their own saliva. “What?”

“I’m going to paint you. Take off your shirt.”

Kayani stares at her, open mouthed, a thousand indignities resting on their lips. Asma taps her foot, paintbrush held between two fingers, frowning impatiently. No excuse, no argument, no plea will ever sway her. She is unmovable.

Kayani stares at the floor and loosens the laces of their shirt before whipping it off. They ball it up and stand there holding it until she snatches it from them and tosses it on the sofa. “Sit on the stool,” she says, “and for Cai’s sake, stop looking so stiff. Actually look like you want to be here. You don’t even have to smile. Just look a little less queasy.”

Queasy for a different reason, Kayani thinks, but obediently sits on the wooden stool in the center of the red, blue, and gold room. The yearly trip west, spent in close quarters with almost all of the Cairic army, has driven the modesty out of them, but everything is different with Asma.

She sits on the ottoman and drags her easel closer to her, a tray of paint pools sitting beside her on the sofa. The easel legs scraping against the floor makes Kayani startle. “Relax,” she orders in a tone that’s anything but relaxing.

Kayani folds their hands and tries not to slouch. The hairs that itch when they fall into their eyes will be the least of their worries over the next few hours. Why else would Asma paint them shirtless if not just to torment them?

Once Asma has everything apparently set up to her standard, she looks up and rakes her eyes over Kayani’s torso. Her breath hitches. “You have so many tattoos. I forgot you would.” Her voice disturbs the quiet of the room, breaking a sacred peace, or however peaceful the two of them alone can get.

“Isn’t that why you wanted to paint me shirtless?” Kayani asks. “Why else would you?”

She hides her face behind the canvas and doesn’t bother with an answer. Kayani prepares for a long set of hours filled with waiting, an aching back, and keeping their walls firmly up.

After ten minutes of silence, Asma working quietly, she asks, “What does that one on your chest mean?”

Kayani resists the urge to look down and earn themself their first don’t move, idiot. They could trace the lines of the * in the darkness, in their sleep. “The death of my mother.”

She gasps. “You got tattooed when you were just a child?”

They shrug. “I’ve known some babies who got tattooed after birth because of a difficult or scary pregnancy, complications that should’ve killed them. Parents, too. We use our tattoos to cope with many things, many emotions, but prominently grief. For many people, the experience itself of sitting there for ten hours while a needle pokes into your skin—it helps.”

“By enduring pain?” Asma asks.

Kayani shrugs. “Some people find solace in pain. It’s something real they can grip onto.”

“That’s the funny thing,” Asma says, peering out from over the canvas. “It isn’t.”

Kayani’s eyes drift to the tattoo on her forearm, she follows their gaze and pulls her sleeve down. Kayani remembers it all too painfully well—her poorly stifled tears and cries while getting it, their own desire to comfort her squashed by the hatred in her eyes. It’s their fault she has it.

“What about that one?” she asks, gesturing to the wings covering their shoulders.

“Are you asking because you’re genuinely curious,” Kayani asks, “or just trying to fill the air?” They want to poke further into her reasoning, but they don’t want her to change her mind and throw them out. Alone time with Asma is bliss as much as it’s torture, and they’ll take every last bit of it.

“I got the wings one year after becoming king,” Kayani says. “To celebrate not being assassinated.”

She snorts. “Get better guards.”

“I am my own best guard besides Ajar and Samad. I didn’t want to trust anyone else. The palace guards on rotation can only do so much against an assassin hired by someone who was angry I became king and not my sister.”

Asma rolls her eyes, the soft strokes of her brush soothing to listen to against the faint chatter of birds. “And the one on your back?”

“You’re not painting that one. You can’t even see it right now.”

“Answer the question, dimwit.”

Kayani grins. As much as they love to nag Nikolai about being attracted to the ones who seemingly want nothing to do with you, they’re no less guilty. “I got the first part done after I survived the Trials.” After healing up upon their return, they went straight to the royal tattoo artist. They knew exactly what they wanted: Ajar and Samad standing side by side, blue eyes pointed to the moon.

The two of them are right outside—if Kayani’s quiet, they can hear them scratching at the door—but an ache for them runs through their chest regardless. Sometimes they’re convinced the three of them share a soul.

“I would’ve gotten the outlining done before I left for the Trials for good luck and gotten it filled in after I came back, but I didn’t want to deal with unnecessary pain. I got the second part added on after I came back from my first trip west with the army. That time, I did do it in two halves for good luck, like many of my soldiers.”

Going to get those outlines and later the full lines done with their soldiers had been one of the most rewarding experiences of their life. Sitting beside ten others in a salon, all laughing or grimacing or telling stories to work through the pain reminded them that they could still mix with normal people. Winning the Trials didn’t make them special in the soldiers’ eyes, and Kayani liked it that way.

Their second back tattoo consisted of a light brown stag leaping across the center of their back, over the dogs. “Each trip after was another add on.” They’ve since added a grassy field for the stag and the dogs to rest in, stars for the moon, flowers and sparkles in a mix of reds and browns.

“Your entire body will be covered by the time you die,” Asma says.

“That’s the goal.”

As the hours go by, Asma asks, and this? What about this? That one? What are the ones I can’t see? Kayani answers her every question, shares every story, every memory. They don’t tell her about the one on the back of their ankle, small enough to miss. A golden paintbrush.

Finally, when the sun is halfway to setting and Kayani’s lower half has gone numb, Asma announces she’s done. Kayani wobbles to their feet toward the canvas, but she picks it up before they can see it. They sigh quietly but don’t question it—until she turns around.

She’s painted them in a background more heavily red than the wallpaper behind them. It brings out the red in Kayani’s tattoos, which are obviously the star of her painting. The edges of Kayani’s muscles are blurred, but the lines of the tattoos are as clear and sharp as they are on their skin. Their eyes are halfway open, tired, and Asma captured their faint smile at something she said, maybe some memory that took them away.

The sun from the glass wall behind them drips golden light onto light brown skin, a glowing backdrop for the tattoos. Kayani sat with their left forearm up, right hand holding that wrist, but Asma painted the opposite to hide the tattoo there.

Kayani has never had the eye for beautiful artwork, nor the time to study why people devote their lives to it, but this makes them reconsider. Not because it’s them, of course, they’re not that vain. Because it’s Asma.

“I will call it ‘Tattooed Cairic King’,” Asma says. Kayani can’t take their eyes off her nonchalant expression, the casual way her fingers grip the canvas. She completed this in a day and she acts like she’s holding a piece of cheap furniture. Doesn’t she know all of her artwork will be studied meticulously after her death merely because she’s a queen?

Not just because she’s a queen, Kayani thinks. Because she’s an incredible artist. They wish they had the courage to say so, but knowing Asma, she’d make some crack about their narcissism.

“Where are you going to hang that one?” they ask. “Which guest room or dining hall or office will get the pleasure of seeing my tattoos?

She fixes them with a look. “My suite wall.”

The floor seems to swim under them.

“I thought you hated me,” they manage. “As you pointed out, last time we were together you told me to never come into your sight again.” They gesture to the canvas. “I think that violates your rule.”

For once, Asma’s silence seems to be because of her loss of words, not dramatic pause or the bother of answering a question. “It’s some of my finest work,” she settles on. “I’d like to admire it often. Let people admire it when I’m dead.” She closes her eyes and runs her finger along the top of the canvas. “Also, I’d like to do your back sometime."

“What?” Kayani sputters.

“Oh, come on. If you can survive a needle pricking your skin for ten hours, you can survive sitting still for another six.”

That’s not the problem, Kayani thinks, but only nods. Cai have mercy.

~

kayani being shook by asma's ability to Art is me @ all the talented artists here yall rock

also if you noticed the tsoa inspiration for "and this?" then props to u

acogs taglist (lmk to be added/removed) @magic-is-something-we-create @inkflight @spencer-nyx @writing-is-a-martial-art @ashen-crest @wisteria-eventide @nikkywrites @denkis-phone-charger @myhusbandsasemni @lynolord @ettawritesnstudies @golden-apple-s-blog @chazzawrites @pen-of-roses

[saintheartwing]

Breaking Dawn, Part Four:  HOLD ON HOPE

The entities of emotion were, to many a race, creation deities. They had beget many a species, including the Irken race, a race born from a union of Intelligence and Will.

And now the species born from Hope was poised to end the Irken race. High above the planet Irk, aiding the Resisty ships as countless others formed a blockade to cut off Irk from the rest of the galaxy, it appeared as though all of Irk's hopes laid in the Wing, the host to Hope, herself an Irken...

"Please." She insisted, clasping her hands together, getting on bent knee before the Meekrob race as the "lighties" hovered before her. The rest of the Resisty stood behind her, Lard Nar frowning slightly. He had had reservations originally about having her join his crew, but she'd proven invaluable, gentle, and above all, considerate. She had owed the Resisty a debt after they'd saved her life...and she'd repaid it time and time again. Now she asked for clemency...

"Can't we give them half a year?" Lard Nar finally asked. "...I don't like the idea of giving the Irkens much time, but just a few months to surrender?" He went on, waving his hands in the air. "It's only fair."

"Would THEY give YOUR race the same mercy?" The leader of the Meekrob growled in its ethereal voice. Sarong was not a kindly being by nature. "DID they give your race half a year to submit before they pitilessly invaded, foul little BUGS that they are?"

"...aren't we supposed to be better than the bugs?" A third voice spoke up, as they turned to see two people stepping off a teleportal pad, dusting themselves off. "The Massive's been moved. Sold. Fresh off the market and on it's way to a very, VERY happy customer."

"Well, THAT would put a smile on my face had I a face!" Sarong laughed. "...alright. I'll give the Irkens a MONTH to surrender to our blockade, to come over to our way of thinking. Get the message out." The phantom-esque glowing being demanded, turning his head to his people as they moved along with the Resisty to the communications relay. "I sincerely HOPE...for your people's sake...they do the smart thing and give in." Sarong told the Wing.

"I have faith that they will make the right choice in the end." The Wing said as she stood up, nodding firmly, moving majestically back to her quarters as she laid down on her bed, noticing her room's communication was going off. She picked up the phone, listening intently. "Yes?"

"...milady, it's me."

The Wing's eyes went wide as the Entity of Hope shimmered overhead. "Turn up the volume, quick." It asked.

"What's happening?"

"The worst, that's what. My friends tapped into your powers with the Exemplar rings. I NEED access to Hope. I need a way to break a hold that Two has over Earth's Avatar of Will, Dilbert Membrane. Otherwise he won't have a fighting chance and...and kids are gonna die."

"I'll be happy to assist, but what of the Entity of Will? Have you contacted it?"

"I don't know where it IS, only you, Compassion and Love are on my speed dial...I don't suppose any others have appeared that could be of help?"

"...the Entity of Corrupted Passion, Rage. He's appeared, but he...he won't help. Not yet. We need to have faith in Sude, who is still bonding with his own host."

"They need to hurry. YOU need to hurry."

"I'll do what I can. I must ask though...you'll need a deputy to assist you. Dib is the Pillar of Will on Earth, is he not?"

"And Gaz is Rage, yes. And you wanna know if there's one for Hope on the Base Planet? Yes. And you know him."

"Who?"

"Skoodge."

The Wing chuckled. "Oh, Skoodge, that dear little soldier. Such a cheery soul. Always looking forward, always devoted. Yes...yes, I don't think we need to worry, Frequency..."

The Wing and Entity of Hope, Psyche, smiled.

"ALL WILL BE WELL.”

Dib paced around in front of his classroom, sighing as he held his hands behind his back, chewing his lip. The Principal had announced that everyone was to leave the school building in an orderly fashion, one class at a time due to a bomb scare.

Naturally, everyone thought Dib or his sister had something to do with it. Mostly because Zim and his weird "cousin", Skoodge, wasn't in class to be pointed and hissed at. M"Alright. I am about to tell you the explanation but if I know you all...and I DO..."

He rolled his eyes at this. "You're all so ignorant you won't believe it. So here goes. A psychotic alien forced a magical kind of ring on me and my sister. He turned us into Manchurian agents that would have decimated the school around lunchtime due to a trigger he put in us. I'm still not entirely sure why. But you aren't buying ANY of that, are you?"

All of the class looked at each other, blinked, and most of them broke out into laughter. Gretchen just sighed, leaning back in her chair, head hung low as Dib sighed and pinched the space between his eyes, chewing on his lip again. "...all right, fine. Nevermind. Moot point, anyhow." God they're all IDIOTS! I'm surrounded by ID! I! OTS!

"Moot point indeed." A voice, filled with snarling rage, a faint laugh lingering in the air called out.

KRUCHA-THROOOOOM! The wall was practically shattered as Two barreled through it, encased in a red energy aura, slamming Dib through the wall on the other side, windows and wall shattering. Soon the class, in fact, the whole school was watching as Dib was sent sprawling across the football field of the High Skool, Two standing tall, fists clenched as red energy rippled from his body.

"Ah, RAGE." Two laughed. "The "Passion" turned dark just like "Diligence" became "Avarice"! A step up, in my humble opinion. See, unlike Miyu, who's off to visit my daddy dearest here in town, I don't "want it all". Nah. I think smaller. I'll just settle for my existence restored to stability as your world is transformed into MINE."

He leapt through the air, fist flying, but Dib managed to roll out of the way, Two growling angrily. "Forgot, I gave you until after lunch to have most of your will back...and I DO suppose stripping any chance you have of fighting back against me would be cheating." Two mused as Dib leaped to his feet, pointing his ring at Two.

"GO!" He yelled out.

Tiny little sparks jutted out, wisps of green slipping to the ground...but nothing. Nothing happened.

"Then again..." Two laughed, his knee going squarely into Dib's gut, knocking Dib to the football field's grass below as he cracked his neck before delivering ANOTHER kick to Dib's side, "I also have kept you from using your ring. So it's hardly a fair fight. I LIKE these odds."

THWUH-THWUCK! Dib was rolled over onto his side as Two knelt down, grabbing his throat. "I...am going to beat you so...so...badly. I'll make this last. And then, after I've stopped by this lovely Chinese restaurant in town for some noodles..." The alien leered, his golden eyes glittering like a dark fire. "I'm going to come back, have you and your sister burn this whole place down with everyone in it, and make sure you're conscious through it all. See, I WAS going to strip your consciousness from your body after this, but frankly...I think me leaving you helpless, trapped inside your own body has a certain poetic CRUELTY to it, wouldn't you say?"

He sniggered darkly, throttling Dib with his clawed hands. "Ooh, I LOVE me when I'm NASTY."

KRA-THROOMP! Two was knocked clean through the air as Gaz lowered the bench she'd carried from the end of the football field, folding her arms down at Dib. "Get up, you idiot. If ANYBODY'S gonna kick your ass, it's me and me alone."

"Thanks, Gaz!" Dib said, laughing with relief as he stood up and made to hug his dear sister, arms stretching wide. I-"

"If you get REMOTELY sentimental I'm feeding you your own nose." Gaz said swiftly, Dib shutting up and turning to face Two as he stood up, nursing a bleeding head as he frowned at them.

"Gaz...almost forgot about you. You know..." He rubbed his chin. "...you look so much like my great aunt, at least, from what the old photo albums showed of her. How'd she die again? Lab accident?"

Gaz turned pale at this. Not with fear, though. This was pure, undiluted grief running through her as Two dusted himself off.

How does he know about Mom? Dib thought.

It had been an ordinary day. Well...as ordinary as life with Prof. Membrane GETS. Peggy Membrane was listening to him speak about his latest invention in his laboratory as Dib, age 7, and Gaz, age 5, stood nearby in the Professor's considerably larger-on-the-inside-than-it-was-the-outside garage laboratory was lighted up.

"How uh...how does...this...um..." Dib asked again as Prof. Membrane strode by him, a strange, bulbous helmet atop his head as he fiddled around with a screwdriver and a control pad in his long, black-gloved hands. He was wearing his large labcoat...he ALWAYS wore his labcoat in the lab, but never in the house, thank God. Peggy always said it smelled too much like plastic.

"Compression technology." The professor laughed. "Shrinking something very, very, VERY big and compacting it into a pocket dimension, I'M A

GENIUS!" He hovered in the air, lightning splitting the air around him as Peggy quickly snatched Gaz away from an accidental bolt that almost singed her hair. "Sorry, I've GOT to be more careful about where I gloat, my dear." Matthew Membrane told "Pegster", taking the helmet off and motioning for his family to come by a table with several vats nearby labeled "DANGEROUS: EXPLODING CHEMICAL COMPOUNDS! DO! NOT! OPEN! SUPER-SERIOUSLY!" written over them.

"What's that?" Peggy inquired, pointing at his latest invention, what appeared to be some kind of mechanical clip for the hair. "You told me your invention was SMALL and unassuming but...you DO know somebody's already invented these Bluetooth things, right?" Peggy laughed.

"My dear, it's a device that lets me speak any language! Even to animals!" Prof. Membrane laughed, pulling on a lever nearby as several cages filled with animals popped up from beneath the floor, all of them looking at the family.

"Ooh, big kitty!" Gaz said, pointing at the tiger as Dib looked at a snake. It began to hiss, it's eyes almost...glowing?

Prof. Membrane quickly led Dib away from the cage, the snake cursing under its breath as Membrane held the strange, segmented clip up, giving it to Peggy. "Put it in your hair. It will transmit signals to your brain, to the part centering around language recognition. All barriers are broken down INSTANTLY! The aftereffects have been odd...something of a shared link...I talked with that bunny yesterday and after that I kept thumping my foot against the ground for half an hour."

Peggy put the clip in her hair and stared at said bunny as it chuckled. "Ooh, have I got a carrot for YOU!" It said, giggling immaturely.

"OH!" Peggy clasped the sides of her face with her hands, gasping. "You little!" She waved her finger at it and took the clip off. "Maybe I should go find a nice CAT or something to talk to." She told her husband. "Here you go, Matt."

She tossed it back to him and he stepped back to catch it...

And he went knocking into a plank that had a small vat of "Exploding Chemical Compounds" placed on the other end. Like a catapult, the small vat was launched through the air at a stunned Peggy as Dib looked up in horror, eyes widening, Gaz's mouth beginning to open in a gasp as Matthew Membrane watched most of his wife become a sloughed pile of flesh...

He never took off the lab coat after that...there was always a tiny bit of Peggy still lingering on the edges of his collar...

A tiny bit of Peggy lingering in his heart.

In ALL of their hearts...

"Do you know what rage TRULY is? The most powerful kind of hatred ISN'T born from ignorance or prejudice or from a perceived threat. Oh no." The alien waved a claw in the air. "Those are Fear in disguise. The real fire that fuels the burning hatred of rage...is personal loss. That's why I wear the red."

Two held his fist up as Gaz and Dib readied themselves, Gaz shaking angrily. "You lost your mother, you must have felt so unhappy, so ANGRY. You didn't understand. Why, why did it have to happen? And I think you blamed your father...and a tiny bit of you blamed your brother, because neither one of them were strong enough to help."

Gaz opened her mouth to say something, but then closed her eyes and clenched her fists, holding them tightly to her sides. "...that's...it wasn't MY fault...somebody had to...somebody had to take the blame. I LOVED...her." She whispered out. "...I LOVED her so...so much..."

"...my own mother is slowly dying. WILL die if my world isn't returned." Two told them softly.

"Then you know how I felt. Then you know that if I had the power...I would have done anything, ANYTHING to get her back." Gaz asked in her dark, accusing tone. "I have that power now...you FORCED it on me, but with you dead and gone, and me with this power..."

She held up her ring, grinning coldly. "I WILL find a way. I'm smart, and I'm tough...and there's not a kid in the world who wouldn't burn it all down if it meant getting back his mommy."

"Oh, Gaz..." Two whispered softly, almost sadly. "You couldn't have described me any better."

And with that, he launched himself at them, claws held high.

...

...

...

... "So..." Nick inquired, his county-boy accent thick and homely as he sat down on the pink, fluffy couch with the squat Irken Invader Skoodge at Zim's house, Zim having gone off to the Radioshack to pick up "supplies" as GIR did his own "private thing" in the laboratory. "If Mr. Billingsly is the sleaziest, number one backstabbing lover in all the town, why's he defending this gal off the street? Reckon it don't make no sense." He asked Skoodge, who was, before you ask, NOT in any disguise.

Oh no, Invader Skoodge, short, fat and cuddly Invader Skoodge, was "au naturale", ladies and gents...well, except for the clothes he was wearing, his usual maroon Invader's attire with that mysterious splotch lingering on his stomach.

"It's because before he got amnesia, William Billingsly was the sleaziest number-one LAWYER in Dawson County!" Skoodge explained, waving a gloved hand in the air as Nick passed the chocolate-covered popcorn GIR had made over to him, Skoodge tossing a handful into his mouth.

He liked having the human over. It got so boring, just being stuck in Zim's basement. This way he could talk about human soap operas like "Kissy-Kissy-Boo-Boo" AND wrestling programs like "Skull Squisher" all he wanted and with somebody who wasn't too "busy" or "stupid" to care about either one. Plus, in the event he ever said too much about Irken culture, he'd just erase Nick's memories with a little mini-squid Zim had developed to be attached to people's heads.

...again.

Yeah, he'd tested out a LOT of things on Nick and-oh. Skoodge grimly frowned as Nick took off his cap, scratching at the...

He couldn't bear to look at it. Skoodge looked away, almost puking up the popcorn he'd gobbled down as Nick decided to use the bathroom, promising to come back with soda from the kitchen as Skoodge sighed, turning his head slowly back to the television. Nice kid, that Nick. Stupid, yeah, but nice. Even before what Zim had done to him.

...that had been...

Skoodge was a trained and experienced invader. He did not ever take his job personally, and he understood that Dib had his own duty to save the planet just as he had a duty to help Zim take it over. It was, on an intellectual level, sad. In another time and place, he might have been capable of being friends with the humans. It was somewhat sad he never could be. There was a lot about this world he liked. And he was beginning to fall into an enjoyable rhythm, just staying here on Earth, hanging out.

Maybe...one day...maybe this would feel like his real home. Maybe one day he'd fine that thing he needed to make him want to stay forever. Maybe one day he WOULD be friends, and there wouldn't be a need for this back-and-forth, and they could just...BE. He was fine with waiting. He was good at that...the waiting and the hoping.

Heck, truth be told, even ZIM was beginning to fall into a steady pattern. A new plan every week instead of every day, and there was a faint camaraderie between he and the Dib-human. Sometimes, Skoodge, he could swear Zim LIKED being continuously beaten. LIKED being stuck here, constantly plotting.

Heck, GIR liked Earth plenty, Skoodge thought to himself as he snuck over to the linen closet and pulled it open, a monitor revealing what was occurring in the laboratory downstairs. GIR was dancing around, a disco ball hanging overhead as lights sprayed around, the little robot posing and singing as he strutted his stuff.

Can't read my, can't read my, No he can't read my Poker Face!

"She aint' got to love nobody!" GIR sang out, waving his butt in the air before he whipped around, holding his arms behind his head and shaking his groove thing.

Can't read my, can't read my, No he can't read my Poker Face!

Yep, nothing changed around here, Skoodge thought to himself as he closed the door, returning to the couch and turning back to the television. The state of normalcy: sitting and waiting for something to happen, and usually, it did. In the end. Things tended to work out in the end, Skoodge thought to himself as he popped some more chocolate popcorn in his mouth. He just had to keep where he was. Stay happy. Keep believing...

He stiffened suddenly, as a voice called out to him, a faint accent lingering in it as he slowly turned his head, looking upon a blue-furred being that had stepped into the living room. It wore a blue cap with a strange white symbol on it's head, and blue shorts to match with a special ring in one hand...a ring with a blue symbol upon it that was being offered to him. To HIM.

"Skoodge of Irk." Frequency said cheerily. "Stoic ol' Skoodge. You have the ability to feel great hope."

He put the ring in Skoodge's hand and Skoodge slowly slipped it on, eyes widening. It felt so natural...like he'd been missing a limb all his life, forced to wear a prosthetic but now gaining back his old hand...

Meanwhile, a maroon-eyed, green-skinned being, Invader Zim himself, was walking back from Radio Shack to his house, his arms filled with sacks full to the brim of technical material he needed for his latest plan.

"Brilliant, BRILLIANT! I'll transform pigs into half-human slaves, rounding up humans and overriding their genetic code with my own glorious Irken DNA!" Zim laughed to himself. "Irken and human fused together and at my command, I'll build a new Irken Empire right here on Planet Earth!"

He blinked suddenly, frowning as he put down his bags and scratched his head. "Wait. I'm TALKING TO MYSELF...vrik na tishanti!" He cursed. "I'm becoming too much like the Dib-Stink." He sighed and reached into his maroon outfit, pulling out a small notepad from within. "And have I already done something like this lately? Better check the list."

He took out a pen that popped up from his PAK, flipping through the notebook. "Hmm. Fiddle with gravity in school...launching chickens into outer space...replacing organs with STUFF...launching COWS into outer space...launching GHOST INSPECTORS into outer space...oh. "Turn dogs into dog-people". Ah, DOGS, not pigs. Yep, this'll work!"

"Observation: You always had a knack for such ideas. Insanely brilliant...they called you mad." A metallic, yet distinctly feminine voice rang out, making Zim whip his head in its direction as he saw a robotic female approach him, black-outfit making her look VERY slim, with a red helm over her head and tipless white gloves showing off almost Irken-like long clawed fingers. "But madness is merely genius to a small mind, and when compared to you, most organics have small minds."

"...what ARE you? Explain yourself!" Zim demanded angrily, pointing at her. "Tell Zim!"

"Explanation: I have an offer for you." The woman said. "I am Miyu. I ask this..."

She held up a ring in her finger...a faint orange glow to it.

"Join my corps."

...

...

...

...The kids of the school were watching, their teachers unable to get them to leave as they saw Gaz and Dib struggling with Two, who kept flinging them around the football field, kicking and punching them whenever they got close enough. Dib had managed to bust one of Two's cheek bones, and Gaz had delivered, WAS delivering-

"YOOOOOWWW-OOOOOOH-HOOOO-HOOOO-HOOOO!"

Ooooch. Gaz fought DIRTY. Two staggered back, flailing out with his ring as a medieval torture rack attached itself via energy construct to Gaz, trying to stretch her out as Dib struggled to break her free, Two cradling his sore crotch. "Y-you dirty little...GAAAAH..."He muttered out.

"You're just going to stand there and watch them suffer like that?" Gretchen asked the others as Ms. Bitters calmly looked up from her copy of "Beyond Good and Evil", "harrumphed" and went back to reading. The rest of the class looked around at each other, almost hesitant.

"We can't just stand here and WATCH!" Gretchen insisted angrily, waving her arms in the air. "We've gotta DO something! ANYTHING to help them!"

"That thing can shoot finger-beams. What're WE gonna do?" The Letter M asked, scratching his head as Poonchy nodding in agreement.

"Oooooh. He just made a shark." Zita called out as Dib yelled for his life, climbing one of the football poles as Two danced in victory, Gaz being beaten up by a cheer-leading team he'd summoned forth with his ring, Gaz swearing to rip off Two's head and make him eat it later. Somehow.

She could do it, you know! She TOTALLY could!

"GRAAAAH!" Gretchen tugged at her hair, exiting the room and stomping out into the hallway-

Running into a beautiful-looking being who was standing by the Guidance Counselor. Her eyes widened as the Guidance Counselor nodded at the angel.

"This is her."

"I'm surprised you figured it out."

"I spent years around the Entity of Love. I know souls filled with it. And her love for Dib has marked her."

The Beautiful Angel stepped forward, putting something in Gretchen's hand. "You won't remember us. Nobody in this school will remember us, my friend will make sure of that. But when the time comes, you'll know what to do inside your heart." The Beautiful Angel crooned, taking Gretchen's cheek and kissing her on the forehead before leaving, Gretchen moving the ring in her hand to her pocket as the Guidance Counselor took her shoulder.

It was as if a veil that had been placed over her eyes was ripped away. "Wh-what was I doing?" She asked, scratching her head as Mr. Thildari moved her back to the class.

"I THINK you were watching THAT." Mr. Thildari said cheerily, pointing outside the opened-up walls as two forms descended from the sky on blue wings, Dib gasping as a green blaze swirled around him, power coursing through his body. Now he was returned to his once-heroic form, standing tall and proud, his Will reasserted over the ring as Two snarled furiously, turning on Frequency.

"You! And...and YOU?" He gasped, seeing Skoodge as Skoodge smiled over in a surprised Dib and Gaz's direction.

"Power levels at 104%...119%...124%..." Dib's ring called out as Skoodge gave Dib the best thumbs up he could.

"Don't worry, Dib-Thing. Hope's wings have always lifted Will higher than it could ever soar. Trust me...All will be well." Skoodge spoke kindly, comfortingly.

And did he look IMPRESSIVE. A cloth covering the top of his head and forehead, with the white symbol of Hope emblazoned upon it. His outfit was vaguely Shamanic...long robe-like shirt to wear, exposing his arms, tipless gloves, plain, simple...and above all, he looked so peaceful and comforted. So SMUG, almost.

"So you've betrayed us?" Two growled at Frequency.

"What can I say, dude?" Frequency laughed, holding his ring up with Dib and Skoodge. "Except...COWABUNGAAAAAA!"

With that, an ENORMOUS blue wave of energy shot forth from Frequency's ring, formed like a tidal wave that SLAMMED into Zerinim Two Jookiba with all the fury of an ocean, as Dib now launched his OWN shark at Two, the pointy nose JAMMING into Two's chest, making him gasp in pain as he was sent spiraling through the air, knocked around by the wave...

Skoodge leaped forward, forming an enormous pair of hands that suddenly pinned Two to the ground, a pair of hands that rapidly became attached to the energy construct of a professional wrestler.

"And now Rodrick has his evil twin Rodrick in a Leg Hold!" Skoodge laughed, the wrestler slamming Two into the ground over and over before tossing him through the goal posts.

"TOUCHDOWN!" Gaz laughed, racing towards Two and kicking him squarely in the face, knocking him through the air and towards the school, right in the direction of Ms. Bitters.

"Huh?" She looked up just in time.

KA-THRUNCKA!

Everyone let out a simultaneous "Ewwwww" and stepped away as Two stood up, dusting himself off and looking down beneath him at what he'd landed on. He stuck his worm-like tongue out, stepping off and watching as Ms. Bitters' feet curled up, the rest of her body melting away as she let out a final sigh of "What a woooorld".

"It's over." Dib said, cracking his knuckles as Skoodge, Frequency, Gaz and he approached Two, who growled and reached into his vest, pulling out a small capsule-like computer.

"You'll never control Dib again, not with ME here, brah." Frequency proclaimed. "And you ain't gonna get to GAZ, either. We've spoken with the Big Bad behind it himself and he's given the ALL clear. Try to take her over again, you get a wipe out!"

"No. It's just BEGINNING." Two growled out. "EMERGENCY TEMPORAL SHIFT."

With a WHOOMP, he was gone, vanished from sight as the class looked from the wreckage to Dib, who scratched the back of his head. Were they FINALLY going to believe him now about the aliens thing?

"I guess...you're all wondering about all of that, right?" He asked.

"It's a gang war, you see." Mr. Thildari said quickly, stepping forward and waving a hand in the air. "Dib informed me that members of a gang who were INSANELY jealous of our school since it's so amazing, especially the clean bathrooms..."

"Oh yeah, yeah."

"Absolutely.

"Of course." Everyone agreed, nodding their heads.

"So they prepared to carry out an attack and decided to beat up Dib because he was the most noticeable of us all with his big head. Luckily Dib's friends here were skilled enough to fend them off with the fancy technological equipment that Prof. Membrane loaned his son and his friends in the event something strange like this ever happened. Isn't that right, Gaz?" Mr. Thildari wanted to know.

Gaz shrugged. "Yeah. Whatever."

"Oh, yes, YES." Gretchen said quickly. "Oh, Dib and I have talked about this before when we're alone! Some people have mace in their pockets, he's got super-tech!" She lied with a smile, quickly putting one arm around his and grinning.

"Er...yeah! Big, bad, rival gangs! It was all a rival gang." Dib decided quickly, gulping nervously. "DEFINITELY not aliens! And these guys are just in costumes cuz they were going to a party at my house later this afternoon. Costume party. Really private affair and stuff. Right, Gaz?"

"Yeah. Costume party. I mean, you can see the zipper!" Gaz chuckled, pointing at Skoodge's teeth as he grinned.

"Well, I think Gretchen had best inform the principal of our little...predicament...with your teacher." Mr. Thildari told the class. "And I think that perhaps I should drive you home, Dilbert, Gazeline...it's been a long, long day and I think we could all use a break, especially you two..."

...

...

...

... "I can't BELIEVE they bought it. I can't believe TWO bought it! One of the worst performances of my career and he didn't doubt it for a second." Frequency laughed, slapping his knee as Skoodge poured everyone some soda using GIR, who opened up his mouth. Gaz then closed GIR up and moved him over her chips, pulling down on an arm as nacho cheese was squirted down onto her snack. "I don't even know what the Entity of Rage LOOKS like! Ha! This is off...the...HOOK!"

"Hope, huh?" Dib inquired, looking Skoodge over as he calmly sipped some Diet-Poopsi, nodding sagely.

"Yes. Our Exemplar Rings gain power from the Entities of Emotions, and I was meant to wield Hope the way you were meant to wield Will, and Gaz was meant to wield Rage." Skoodge explained.

"Meant to? Entities?" Dib asked.

"What...ARE you?" Zim inquired, eyes widening at the ring in Miyu's hand.

"I suppose I should explain." Frequency admitted, sitting in a chair nearby as GIR clapped his hands together, beaming.

"It's STORYTIME?" GIR asked cheerily, hopping up and down.

"Uh...yep."

"Ooh, does it involve monkeys?"

Skoodge snorted, looking over in Dib and Gaz's directions as Gaz growled. "What's THAT supposed to mean?"

Frequency laughed and chuckled slightly, holding out his ring as an series of images began to form for them all, GIR's eyes widening. "Oooooooh. Laser liiiiights..."

"In the beginning, there was just one universe planned for creation. What happened...was something quite different. There was a...change...in the nature of the cosmos." Mr. Thildari explained calmly.

"Instead of ONE universe being made, a multiverse was created." Miyu went on. "Endless parallel worlds, similar in some ways, bizarrely different in others, were formed. All were occupying the same space, but vibrating at entirely different frequencies."

"Like two cars parked side by side in the same parking lot...or sometimes right on top of one another, with nobody realizing." The guidance counselor suggested.

"And there were entities, beings of INCREDIBLE power, that watched over all of this and spread the power of emotions through the universe." Miyu murmured. "The first was entity of Life, Sude, of the Seraphi race."

Zim blinked. "The Seraphi?" Wait, the Irken race had SENT invaders in the direction of the soc-called home of the Seraphi, the planet Allforce. What had happened to them? Had they becme dragon chow? They'd never heard from the fools again...

"I know what you're thinking. The race did not perform things such as that. They were the kind who offered laughter and joy up to their God instead of blood rituals. They simply sent Irken laughter to Sude."

Zim raised a non-existent eyebrow. "...wait...you mean?"

FIVE HUNDRED YEARS AGO...

"WE'LL TICKLE YOU FOREVER!" One brown and yellow-horned draconic being exclaimed as he held a giant feather up from a box, the tied-up Irken nearby gulping as his friends were held in place. "Prepare to enter the unbearable world of COOCHY-COOCHY-COO!"

PRESENT...

"ANNNNYHOW, the next was the entity of Passion, Chulainn. He's turned all nasty and dark when he became "Rage". Frequency went on with a sad expression flickering across his face. "Poor dude. Then we got the pretty lil' entity of Hope, Psyche. She's cute, in a weird way." He added, tilting his head to the side. "Kinda...looks like a butterfly. I think she IS that, a big, alien butterfly."

"And I spent many years conversing with the Entity of Love before I came here." Mr. Thildari explained, putting one hand to his chest. "Jourmungdr sent me here to the Base Earth to keep an eye on the planet and those within. It said this place was too important to be ignored. I've been keeping up a guise, with the Entity taking my place back at my home planet without anybody noticing."

"This world...this MUDBALL is...actually important?" Zim scratched his head. "How?"

"EVERYTHING in the multiverse stems from the material found in this base Earth." Skoodge interjected. "Remember when he talked about the "parking lot" analogy? Think of your world as an original model of car, and every other car in the lot is a rip-off or copy of that original." Skoodge went on as visible models of the many parallel Earths floated around.

"Without this world, there won't BE any other parallel Earths. No more stories of Zim and Dib and Gaz and GIR. This world is the cornerstone upon which the multiverse of Universe I-Z spins..." Miyu went on, gesticulating in the air. "Within this world...there's the POTENTIAL to remake the world that was tragically lost."

"They want to bring it back. If one tried to sacrifice enough of this world, Earth B-S will return. The people of this world will be, well...they get folded into the historical fabric. Become reborn anew, I guess you could say..." Frequency admitted.

"I'll DIE?"

"Answer: You'll become BETTER." Miyu informed him waving a clawed finger in the air. "You will reach your physical and mental peak, and will become a being both feared, loved and admired across the universe. And it is not just you. GIR, Minimoose, they'll be better too. People will respect you, Zim, be amazed at what you've become. I would never not lie..."

She gently took his shoulder, smiling at him as the visor on her helmet lifted up, and Zim's eyes widened in surprise. "To my own father."

"I...I need to...think about this." Zim mumbled.

"Statement: I shall do you one better." Miyu informed him as he pocketed his ring. "I will take you to your wife. I think you'll be more than pleasantly surprised."

Zim's eyes bugged out, mouth flopping open. "Zim has a WHAT?"

[bluestmoons]

1. alias/name: Serena!

2. birthday: February 3rd!

3. zodiac sign: Aquarius! 

4. height: 5′8"? I literally don’t know I have no idea, but I’m tall-ish 

5. hobbies: RP!!! Umm,,, I don’t know what counts as hobbies, but! Playing Sims! Making up stories/characters! Learning German! Transcribing! Making friends!  

6. favorite colors: PINK, orange/gold, green, and purple! 

7. favorite books: I always say “my own” and Inkheart by Cornelia Funke so let’s go with that!! I haven’t read a real book in a bit though. 😭

8. last song listened to: “why do you feel so down?” by Declan McKenna ( JKLFDJAKLFDA ONE IN THE SAME... )

9. last film or show watched: Kimi no Suizou wo Tabetai! 

10. inspiration for muse: I think most people would just pick one muse but let me just go down the list and pick things that remind me of/inspire me about my muses and/or why I picked them up!  ELSA: Purples and blues, cold weather and forests, dizzying castles, tinkling bells, snow and ice ( duh?? ), icicles, Norwegian patterns, deep purple velvets, isolation, the scratch of a quill, and the taste of tears. She reminded me a lot of my childhood. ERK: Purple silk and burlap, old books, exhaustion, disgust, burning hands. He reminds me a lot of one of my husband’s characters.  ERIC: Bright white sand and green-blue seas, cream castles, the taste of salt and the feel of rope, wet dog smell, the deck of a ship at sea, sunlight, parenthood. I love his goofy light-heartedness.  FINIS: Feathers, sheer clothing, long hair, tears caught in eyelashes, sad arias, inky quills against parchment, repetitive motions, purple flowers, a broken body that never shatters, fire, bloody throats, overwhelming sorrow, the concept of immortality, the feel of grass between toes, small boxes, cages, deep breaths, immeasurably empty/lonely, the depths of the ocean, moons!!, comets, blue-white, gray. I’m literally in love with her, so.  ICHIGO: Serious focus, the scrape of metal, uncontainable emotion, logic, hair clips and short hair, dark blue and green, obsessive thought, quick footsteps, position and pain of leadership, strawberries and the number 15, sweet tastes, ache of desperation, regrettable words yelled in the heat of the moment, small stature. I mostly picked her up in step with Kristopher picking up Goro but I love my little kiddo so much... so short, so powerful...  ITSUKI: Nice cologne, athleticism, nice big watches, subterfuge, smells, loss of personal space, pretty boys, lightning/static, unrequited longing, eyes closed, green and hazel, basil, silent admiration, Othello. I genuinely picked him up the moment I realized he was an empath because I have a type. :,)   IZETTA: Nomadic existence, bare and dirty feet, the smell of sweat and hard work, loud compassion, hope, unevenly cut hair, red and gold, cheap clothing, white costumes, early rising, warm metal, inferiority complex, total devotion and dedication. I knew I needed to write her so I could steal some of her positivity...  IZUMI: High fashion, business casual, stockings and high heels, earrings and nose rings, frost, dual-bladed naginata, the shine of metal in the dark, sold souls, sibling love, obsession with perfection, fish tanks, a home without any distinct smell, self-imposed isolation, fluorescent lighting, purples and blues. I don’t know, Izumi is one of my favorite characters from Kyoukai no Kanata, I always knew I had to pick her up.  LEONIE: Sun shining on dry ground, the feel and breath of the earth, refined chaos, green tea, large vocabularies, strange speech patterns, dry wit, sons, secrets, old books with a flower bookmark, the muddy bottom of a lake, frogs, red fingers and cheeks, old swords, dirty gold embellishments, empty and untouched rooms, freckles!!!!, spinning sword moves, honor, old armor, repeating words said just earlier, unflattering and unfashionable garments, blonde braids, running away running away running away. She’s an OC, so!! I fell in love with her on my own!! I decided to pick her up after Kristopher and I were discussing the Reed mom and I realized oh God, I have a whole idea... MIRAI: Pinks and golds, blues and blacks, vintage chic ( “grandma style”, as I lovingly call it ), red frames, serious expressions, overt politeness, depression, bandaged wrists and palms, gold rings, bloody hands, the taste of iron, burning hot blood, monster/demons, unpleasantness, distaste and disgust, starvation, empty shitty apartments, bonsai, gardening, social media and anon hate, sacrifice, orphan, self-loathing. God I just... I’d die for her okay... I... wow... I gathered the courage to pick her up after I loved her for years.  SAKURA: Toddler clothing style on a high schooler, cooking, food, sleep, oversized flannels, tired eyes and cheeks, aromantic, succinct speech, big scarves, wide stripes, lime green and red, crumbs, bandaids, bag like a mom’s purse ( full of napkins and tissues and food and keys and totally unorganized ), memories, forgiveness, sarcasm, bells, kicking, sisterhood. MMMMM I LOVE MY QUIET SLEEPY DAUGHTER!!! I picked her up because I just... vibe with her energy, I love her.  SERRA: PINKS and whites, cleanly pressed clothing, loud echoing voice, devoted and steadfast religion, bright white magic, attention-seeking, loneliness, nunneries, rosaries, The Sound of Music tbh, glitter, make-up, pigtails, tears over a chipped nail, devotion to valuing oneself, dedication to becoming the best, volatile emotions, absolute joy or unbridled anger, cherry blossom perfume, rosy red joints, stringy hair, memorization of etiquette, adventure-lust, friend-seeking. I love her so much -- she reminds me of Willow, and when I saw her on my replay of the game, I burst into tears.  URSULA: Blacks and deep purples and blues, fine wine, tight fabric, velvet skin, sharp and entrancing gaze, crows, black feathers, leather gloves, mocking simper, blood red lipstick, neutral colored fashion, lies, sharp perfume, manipulation, gold chains, the click of high heels, short dark hair, shadowy silence. I made this blog for Ursula! I knew I could play her and Kristopher wanted to write opposite of her so I threw her out here! 

11. story behind url: The original thought was that I’d be here way less frequently than my other blogs. Once every blue moon I’d check in on here. Hence, bluestmoons! 

tagged by: @myloyalty​ ( thank you my love!!! ) 

tagging: okay I know this is a copout but I spent so long doing 10,,, please,,, just steal it, I can’t look at this anymore, JKFLAJK 

[adarlingwrites]

Absolution

Summary:

noun: formal release from guilt, obligation, or punishment

The Capital Wasteland lauded the Lone Wanderer as a hero, a Messiah, a savior who’s willing to give her life for the Good Fight. Beyond the legends, the propaganda, and the mythification that surrounded her legacy, there is only one person who knew her bare soul. She gave him his absolution, and now he will fight for hers.

XXII

January 5, 2278.

Percy tosses aside her wrench and huffs, putting her hands on her waist and admiring her work. “Looks like you’re finally ready,” she says to the motorbike that she has been tinkering with for weeks.

“Now let’s see if you work.”

My partner hums as she leads the cruiser through Megaton’s gate, ignoring gawkers and onlookers. We wear our helmets, which Percy picked up from Moira this afternoon.

She sits on the motorbike seat, exclaims a triumphant “Yes!” when the engine roars to life… and screams when the damn thing went careening around in circles.

I caught her before she could crash, and the bike fell to its side as she got off of it, legs shaking.

“Dammit,” she curses, clinging on to me, breathing hard. “Maybe I’m not cut out for this.”

“If it’s too dangerous to use, we can still travel on foot, but it may delay our plans,” I tell her, steadying her to her feet.

“Delaying is not an option we have the luxury to choose now,” Percy sighs, pulling the bike back into position.

“Then I suggest that you navigate with your PipBoy. I’ll drive.”

My partner looks at me curiously. “You know how to ride a bike?”

“Yes. I am proficient in driving pre-war vehicles.”

Percy clears her throat. “Was that a part of your training?”

I run my ruined hands through the driver’s seat’s worn leather, and get on.

“Yes.”

I start the engine, and Percy gets on the passenger seat behind me.

“Now, hold on tight.”

She did as I said, wrapping her arms around my waist, and letting out a surprised scream when we zipped away from the gate.

As we sprinted past jet-addled raiders and freaked-out mole rats, Percy was whooping and laughing, her body warm against by back despite the winter air blowing.

“Holy shit! This is fun!” Percy yells, and I feel her heart pounding through her chest.

I’m glad she’s behind me, or she would’ve seen the smile I had when she held me tighter and leaned on me.

I could get used to this.

As we rode our way to our destination, my mind wandered back to the conversation we had with Doc Church earlier today.

Percy got inside the clinic first, and I followed suit, looming over Church, who was sitting on his desk, looking over a medical clipboard.

“Unless you’re dying I- Oh. It’s you.”

“Doc Church. Do you have any patients with you today?”

“None. I’m not sure how that is any of your concern, though.”

“Charon, guard the door,” Percy instructed me, and Church was about to get up when Percy pressed on his shoulder, forcing him to sit. I lean against the metal and watch the two intently.

“We know about Paradise Falls.”

All the color from the doctor’s face drains.

“You’re training to be a doctor too, am I right? The oath requires me to offer my services to whoever is in need. Slavers included. Even so, I’ve put that all behind me when I opened this clinic in Megaton. Please, don’t hurt me,” Church blurts out, defensive.

“I understand your intention to follow the oath. Don’t worry, we’re not planning to hurt you. In fact, we need your help.”

“Aside from offering my services as a doctor, I have nothing else to offer. I’m sorry.”

My partner turns to me, and nods.

I come forward, cracking my knuckles in a show of intimidation. The old man shrank in his seat even further.

“I know you remember me,” I tell him, and he gulps. “And I know you remember the people you worked for.”

“We need information about Paradise Falls. Names, a layout of the location, and anything that could help us take down the slaver operations there,” Percy continues.

Church’s eyes widen, and he gives us an incredulous look. “Even if I give you the information you need, you can’t take down Paradise Falls, kid. Those slavers have contacts everywhere. You’ll have a target on your back for the rest of your lives.”

Percy shakes her head. She drags a chair and sits in front of the doctor.

“I’ve gotten used to looking over my shoulder and sleeping with one eye open, doc. That doesn’t concern me anymore. What concerns me is there are innocent kids who were snatched from their home by bastards who think that people are a commodity to be sold. I know you think that’s fucked. Why else would you pack up and leave? This is your chance to make things right.”

“Make things right? Kid...”

I felt the urge to speak up. I look at Percy, asking for silent permission, and she seems to understand, taking a step back and allowing me to take the helm.

“Percy is right. Why else would you leave that life behind and start a clinic here, where people needed your help the most? You feel guilty,” I tell him.

He was as still as a stone.

“You still think about the horrible things you saw in Paradise. You regret being instrumental in keeping those slavers healthy and alive as they hunted down more people to sell as slaves. This is an opportunity to let go of that guilt. You don’t get that chance every day. Don’t waste it.”

“What, do you have psych training now too?” he asks me, mockingly, disbelievingly.

“No,” I tell him. “It’s an observation, from a ghoul who’s in the same boat.”

Tense silence fills the room. Finally, Church relents, taking a pencil from his desk drawer.

“I’ll look for a piece of paper.”

I let out a breath that I was holding. Percy sighs in relief too.

“Thank you,” she says to the doctor.

The old man sketches the layout of Paradise Falls on a yellowed piece of paper, and tells us all he knows about Paradise Falls before his departure.

As he went on, my memories of the place started becoming clearer, but I have no desire to dwell on them.

When we got back to the house, Percy looped her arm around mine. Percy looks at me with those eyes again, filled with trust, devotion, and now… admiration.

“I’m proud of you, big guy.”

I stroked her hair and went on with our preparations.

My mind snapped back to the present as we reached Tenpenny Tower, and I parked the bike as Percy rings the intercom. Taking off my helmet, I look up at the tower, which sticks out like a sore thumb in the Wasteland. The people who lived inside were obsessed with the finer days from before the war. Worse, Tenpenny was a landgrabber, their chief of security, Gustavo, was a gung-ho bigoted bastard, and their doctor made assumptions about ghouls without even looking at one up close.

They reminded me of the people I used to serve, the ones responsible for my indoctrination.

Percy hated them so much.

However, we need all the ammunition we can find, and Gustavo trades them.

“Huh, no one’s answering,” Percy mumbles. She touches the gate lightly, and gasps when it opens on its own.

“Did you think something happened?” she asks me, and I retrieve my shotgun, loading it with bullets.

“I thought you hated those people.”

“Yeah, but, after helping the Warrington station ghouls get in I thought I’d give them a chance to change their mind about ghouls…”

Percy trails off as her eyes scan the courtyard. There were no more human residents present, only the ghouls she helped get in the tower.

“Don’t tell me...”

Gasping, Percy pushes the gate and rushes inside, pushing the heavy double doors open. She runs up to a ghoulette, the one called Bessie Lynn.

“Bessie, where’s the rest of the residents?”

The ghoulette squirms in place, nervous. “Oh, I don’t know where they are. But everything is fine! Roy said not to worry about the other residents.”

I could tell she was lying, and Percy could too, so she moves on, running past the timid woman. Michael Masters, another one of the Warrington ghouls, sits in the lobby.

“Michael!” Percy exclaims. “Where are all the humans?”

The ghoul laughs. “Roy took out the trash. You better steer clear of the basement storage room. I’m glad I lost my sense of smell.”

“He did fucking what?”

Percy brushes past Masters, footsteps heavy as she stomps her way to the basement. As she opened the door, her hands flew to her nose at the stench of rotting bodies.

Most of the corpses were unrecognizable. They were brutalized. The only one I could recognize was the old man’s. Herbert Dashwood. That one was the only human resident who didn’t insult me when we first visited this place.

His face was bloated and decaying. I looked away.

Percy retches, eyes wet and shiny with tears, and I grab her, pulling her out of the room and slamming the door shut behind us.

She was shaking. I pressed her against my chest as she trembled and sobbed.

Then, I heard a mocking laugh. I looked up, and the leader of the Warrington ghouls was strolling towards us. Roy Phillips.

“Hey kid. Thanks again for helping us get in.”

Wiping her tears away, Percy faces him. She wore that expression she had when she talked to Ahzrukhal, when she confronted Wally Mack, and when those Talon mercs ambushed us.

That look on this angel’s face is one of the few things in this world that frightens me.

“Nice pile of bodies in the storage room, Roy,” Percy spits, shoulders tense. “You’re proud of yourself, aren’t you?”

“Assholes had it coming,” Phillips spat back. “But I don’t answer to you, or any other smoothskin. In fact, you’d best piss off before you join them.”

Muscle memory kicking in, I shield Percy with my body at the bastard’s threat. He looks at me, disgusted.

“What the hell are you even doing, defending this smoothskin? You should be with your fellow ghouls.”

“Charon, this is hopeless. Let’s get out of here,” Percy tells me, touching my arm.

“You get out of here,” Phillips interrupts. “I’m not done talking to him yet.”

The asshole turns to me, looking at me from head to toe.

“Not man enough to ditch this little girl and stick with us? How much is she paying you for you to betray your own kind?”

Phillips gave me a hard shove when I didn’t give him an answer.

“Huh. ‘Not man enough?’ Wow, sounds like someone is projecting his insecurities about his masculinity,” Percy interrupts, hand flying to the spot on my chest where the other ghoul shoved me. Phillips’ eyes flick to my partner’s hand, and he gives us a mocking smirk.

“Oh, I get it now. This kid gives you a taste of smoothskin pussy and now you’d tail her ass around like that stupid dog of hers? You’re her fucking gigolo?”

“God, you’re disgusting. How could someone as nice as Bessie stay with someone as horrible as you?”

“Keep your mouth shut, smoothskin bitch.”

Percy grabs him by the collar, knocks him off-balance with her footwork, and slams him against the wall, like she did with Wally Mack.

“No! You listen, you piece of shit! I helped you get into this fucking tower in hopes of a non-violent solution to everyone’s problems. I guess that was a fucking mistake, huh? I’m not going to shed tears for Gustavo and the other bigots who wanted you dead. But Dashwood? Does it make you feel like a bigger man, killing a senile retiree? You killed the only person in the tower who viewed you as people, too.”

“That asshole was gloating about having a ghoul manservant. I’d fucking do it again. Of course you’d defend him. You have one too, you two-faced bitch.”

Percy falters, but then slams Phillips against the wall again, his head hitting it with a dull thud.

“Charon is not my manservant. He is my friend. You don’t know a single fucking thing about us. Forget it. You can rot in this tower for all I care.” She lets him go. Then, she turns to me.

“Charon, let’s get-”

As Percy turns around, Phillips lunges for her neck, but I move her out of the way and grab the other ghoul’s arm, twisting it and shoving him to the ground.

“Traitor,” Phillips spits at me. “Goddamn smoothskin titsucker! You’ll pay for that!”

“Percy is my contract holder,” I start, towering over him. “And my friend. I don’t care what she is. I am loyal to her.”

“Is that it? That’s all you ever want to be? You’re fucking hopeless, kid. She’ll use you and throw you away once she’s done with you.”

The mere suggestion of Percy abandoning me coming from his mouth made me want to shut him up.

“Big guy, don’t listen to him. C’mon, let’s just go.”

“Once she finds a human who can protect and fuck her better, you best bet she’ll put you down like the dog you are.”

He should shut up.

Shut up. Shut the hell up!

I’ll fucking shut him up!

“Charon, enough! Stop! I order you to stop!”

Small hands were pulling me away, and Percy’s orders went in my ears as sharp barks.

Conditioning kicking in, I freeze. I look down, and my hands are bloody.

I smeared Roy Phillips to the ground.

Fuck.

Around us the other ghouls, his followers, were too shocked to even fire their weapons. Lynn runs over, looks at me, then her boyfriend’s brains on the ground, and lets out a frightened wail.

Percy grabs my arm and pulls me towards the entrance. “Charon, we need to get out of here!”

Behind us, they were firing their guns like crazy. One of the bullets grazed my thigh, but I kept going, the pain numbed by holding Percy’s hand.

We rode our way out of there.

It’s getting dark and unsafe to drive.

Making camp on the side of the road, Percy treats the bullet graze on my thigh in silence. Then, she stares into the fire, eyes glazed over.

“Charon, what have I done?”

I scoot closer to her, and she begins to cry.

“You couldn’t have predicted that Phillips would turn against his word.”

“No. I trusted him and now people died because of me.”

Doing my best to soothe her, I stroke her hair. “Can I make a suggestion?”

She nods.

“You shouldn’t blame yourself for things you have no control over, angel.”

Percy sniffles, and looks up to me.

“You know, I hate it when people call me that. I’m just a kid who’s also imperfect and makes mistakes… not some Wasteland Avenger, and definitely not an Angel.”

“I can stop, if that’s what you wish of me, Percy.”

“If it’s you? It’s fine. Consider it my thanks for allowing me to call you ‘big guy’.”

Pulling her closer, I chuckled.

Percy kisses my cheek, yawns, and settles in my arms.

I smile.

[brightasstars]

A special thanks goes to @antisocial-af​ who drew the amazing star-stamp for me. You’re talented, and special.

Title: If this is not Enchantment...

Square Filled: Christmas Fic (For @shadowhunterbingo​)

Raiting: G

Pairing:Malec

Wordcount: 2193

No Major Archive Warnings

Summary:

The Traditional New York Institute Snowball Fight for Christmas Eve is about to start... but something unexpected is happening this year!

Read on Ao3

Rafe crossed the threshold of the Institute smiling at the girl who was guarding the entrance. No one ever stopped them, not even the youngest ones or the new ones coming from other Institutes scattered around the world. Everyone recognized him and Max from far away.

 “Uncle Jace!” he called, seeing him standing near the monitors.

 Jace turned, a wide smile spreading on his face as he closed the distance with his nephew. Rafe had become a very good fighter and was now on duty at the Mexico City Institute. The more he grew up, the more he looked like Alec, Jace was always impressed. The way he moved his shoulders, his neck, the way he walked through the corridors, his pitch-black hair ruffled on top, his quiet voice.

“Hey, Rafe! Good to see you, how are things going in Mexico?”

 Rafe hugged him. “Good, really good. Is Max already here?”

 Jace shook his head, “No, at least I haven’t seen him yet.”

 As he finished talking they saw an azure portal opening in the middle of the monitor’s room, setting all the Institute alarms running. Max had arrived.

 Jace rolled his eyes and turned to see a very pleased Max Lightwood-Bane stepping out from the portal.

 He was laughing, his naughty eyes sparkling under his blue hair. It had become a habit, breaking the rule of portalling directly inside the Institute walls, just to have fun and see his dad running out of his office to tell him that no matter who they were, they were supposed to follow the rules. And he apologized, always. 

 But no steps came running down the hallway, and no voice.

 “He’s not here,” Izzy shouted from the training room, “They are both outside checking the perimeters and the playing field.”

 Max made an expression which was half a pout and half a frown, “Gah, too bad, I should have checked before portalling. Hey Rafe, all good?”

 He went to his brother and patted him on his shoulder.

 “Yeah, all good…”

 “I thought you’d come accompanied,” Max grinned. 

 Rafe glared at him. 

 “Oh Rafe,” Izzy whined stepping closer, caressing his cheek, “you really bring me back to when Alec was in your place, glaring to whoever dared to allude in front of him that he was secretly seeing Magnus.”

 Max looked back at him, “Save the fury for the battle, we're not going to let you Shadowhunters win this year,” he stated moving toward the door that led to the gardens.

 It had become a tradition, every Christmas Eve of the last ten years , Alec and Magnus organized a  Snowball Fight  between Shadowhunters and Downworlders in the gardens of the Institute. Magnus magicked a huge playfield where they fought at first in groups, until only two of them were left and battled it out to define the winner. It was fun and a special way to strengthen the alliances, to celebrate Christmas, a mundane holiday, in their own way.

 Last year, the battle ended with Izzy unexpectedly taking down Catarina. 

 Each group was allowed to use magic, tricks, runes, everything, as far as nothing was done to hurt each other.

Alec and Magnus had wanted this as a celebration of their differences and their powers, a demonstration of how diversities were a strength, a resource.

 Rafe and Max strolled out on the snow along with Jace and Simon, laughing and talking about their last months, asking when were their cousins coming as their feet made a soft sound on the snow.

 “You broke in in the hall, again,” a gravel voice towered from behind a tree, “don’t think I didn’t notice," and then a hard hand on his shoulder shoved him on the snow.

"Dad!" Max shouted, coughing and spitting some snow crystals from his mouth. He stood up on his legs and a pair of strong warm arms engulfed him in a tight hug. 

"Welcome home, my blueberry," Alec whispered only for Max to hear.

"Is this the welcome you have reserved to me?" Max whined, trying to disguise the chuckle that was lingering under his lips.

"You can dry yourself with a flick of your fingers, it's not such a big deal…," Alec replied, pulling back.

 As their gazes met, they burst into a loud laughter and hugged again, as Max changed his clothes.

When Alec turned, Rafe was looking at him with such tenderness that Alec felt a knot in his stomach.

 "We're going to win again dad," Rafe said and pulled his father in another hug.

 As his son's thick arms encircled him, Alec's mind reflected upon the unique sensation he got each time he hugged one of his two sons. They were different, even in the way their hugs felt.

Max's arms were thin, and he used to close them around Alec's low waist, burying his face into his father's chest, as if he was still the source of protection and shelter.

Rafe instead preferred to close them around his neck, pulling him close chest to chest and resting his forehead on his shoulder, pushing it down into the hollow of his collar bone, as when as a child, he tried to push away the nightmares.

 Alec was so glad that Magnus had slowly taught him how to express his feelings physically. He had been grown up as if he was an ethereal being, not made of a carnal body to be held, touched or hugged. 

Shadowhunters kids were mind, soul, rationality, devotion, duty… he remembered some days he almost felt invisible to the ones that surrounded him.

When Magnus came into his life, he discovered how much he loved to touch and be touched, how much a simple gesture could change his day, and make a difference in their relationship, to the point that sometimes words became unnecessarily; and this had been the way they had grown Rafe and Max. Hugs, kisses, gentle caresses, and holding hands.

 “I heard you’re doing wonders in Mexico City, I was sure 'bout this, but, just so you know, we’re really proud of you, Rafe, “Alec said

“Speaking of  us … Where is Bapak?"

 Alec spun on his heel and looked straight into the playfield, “Putting on his snow combat gear,” he chuckled softly, “you know how much he hates the cold and the feeling of being wet after a snow battle.”

 Rafe widened his eyes, "So what I heard through the grapevines is true… you two are really fighting this year."

Alec smiled back at him, "Yes, we are. It's the tenth year anniversary of this traditional battle and we thought it would be nice to take an active part in it."

"I'm not letting the Shadowhunters win again," a soft voice came from behind the same tree where Alec was.

 As soon as Magnus appeared, Rafe was on him, burying his nose in his jacket. Alec heard them exchange soft quiet words in Spanish as Magnus threaded his fingers through their son's hair.

Max stepped closer too and Magnus' arms widened a little bit more, enough to pull the younger warlock in.

 "My kids," he whispered.

 "Rafe, don't fraternize with your enemy," they heard Jace say.

Magnus glares at his brother in law, "Be sure my first blow is gonna kick you right in your butt, Blondie."

"Yeeeessssss," Jace replied delighted, "the fight is so much better when the High Warlock gets pissed off."

 As they all laughed, a quick series of  wooshes  filled the air, and warlocks, seelies, vampires and werewolves stepped out from a carousel of portals, all in their traditional uniforms that Clary had designed since this had started.

After a second of silence as the eyes took in all the faces, the atmosphere turned instantly chaotic, with hands greetings, chuckles and chitchats all around the playfield.

 The crowd knew where to move and in a few minutes they were all settled into the battlefield, Alec and Magnus standing on the furthest back of the playing camp. The purpose was to spare them the first shots and let them get directly to the  juicy part of the snow war that was about to start.

Before the hostilities began, Alec took a moment to greet everyone, thanking them all for coming and for the collaboration, the help, and the commitment they all put in the year that was coming to its end. 

 Then the Shadowhunters activated their runes and Magnus yelled from the far end of the field, "Snowball fight!", and in seconds, the air became thick with snowballs so compacted that many of them felt almost solid. Some balls were colored and changed trajectory under the pulse of magic, some transformed into giants white icy monsters that engaged in a fight with the Nephilims, while others just disappeared in the air to splatter right in the face of an opponent warrior. 

Vampires were always the last to surrender as the cold and the wet didn't affect them at all; werewolves shifted to take advantage of their fur and heightened strength, while seelies shots, made of freshly fallen flakes, always burst open at the impact, showering everyone with crystalline fragments that glinted in the wintry light.

 Alec was fighting his way to the final battle taking down many Downworlders, but he seemed to avoid his husband. Magnus, on his part, had started with the high ranks of the Shadowhunters, defeating them one by one. Izzy first, then Clary and Underhill, then Jace and in the end, his beloved son, Rafe.

 "Bapak," he heard him whine, "and I thought you'd spare me…"

"Everything is allowed in love and war my little one, and we're undoubtedly in  war ."

 Rafe laughed falling on his back onto a huge hill of snow gathered on the side of the battling field.

 He searched for his brother and spotted him cornered against a tree, as he was pleading Alec to spare him, "Dad you can't, I'm your little blueberry," but his dad shot him with such precision and strength that he was thrown behind the borders that delimited the playground. 

Then Rafe saw Alec shrugging and leaning down, extending an open hand to his son, and pulling him up.

 Several minutes later, the field was empty, only Magnus and Alec left to fight.

"We're going to make this last battle the mundane way, " Magnus heard his husband shout at him, "uhm? What do you say?", and he nodded from afar.

 Then he moved to hide behind a huge tree trunk, as Alec deactivated all his runes. His gloved magic hands were buried deep in the snow, frantically making a stockpile of balls to use. 

Magnus knew too well he had to be fast and unpredictable to prevent Alec aim to work properly, otherwise his husband wouldn't have missed a shot. Alec, instead, was slowly approaching the tree, gathering some snow on his way to Magnus, focusing on the best angle to get the strike right where he wanted it.

 The first snowball Magnus threw, smacked Alec right on the side of his head, the hard and cold impact turning his ears to a bright red, as the snow exploded on his cheek, sprinkling his hair with white.

Alec didn't even flinch, but kept on closing the distance between them, slowly but relentlessly, one hand holding the ball that was growing bigger, and one hand parrying the shots.

When he decided he was close enough, he crouched on the ground, behind a huge stone, disappearing from Magnus' sight just for the time he needed to give a last glance to his target. He took another look around and then raised his ball, now as huge as a watermelon, and then released it, hitting Magnus full on his face, shoving him backward and against the tree with a loud thud. The snow on the branches fell on him, covering him up and pinning him against the bark and into the ground.

 "You did not just throw that at me, did you?" he heard Magnus yell before bursting into one full-hearted, untamed laughter. 

 Lorenzo Rey took the horn and blew in it, to declare the Nephilims' victory, and as soon as the sound dissolved in the wind, everyone had already rushed inside to change their clothes and head to the training room where the reception took place.

 Alec closed the distance between them, kneeling in the cold snow to help Magnus on his feet, kissing the crystals away from his face with tender, chaste movements of his lips, breathing some hot air against his husband's freezing skin.

 "Aren't you enchanting, covered in white snow? Here, let me warm you up," Alec murmured softly in his ears, as he slid his arms beneath him and scooped him up, cradling him against his chest.

"Alexander…," Magnus breathed out, his cheeks red for the cold and the romance, "...put me down, everyone is looking at us from behind those huge windows…"

Alec kissed him on his forehead, just before tightening the grip, "Good," he answered, "let's show them the exact reasons why we've been on the Clave naughty list for the last twenty years."

He smiled tenderly, before leaning forward again, "Happy Christmas, Magnus."

[fuwafuwamedb]

Cursed G Pt 32 (Hakuno, Gilgamesh, Enkidu, Humbaba)

Previous Part:

1 (HakuPOV / GilPOV), 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 

11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20,

 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26, 27, 28, 29, 30, 31

___

Things had grown peaceful in the kingdom of Uruk.

The marriage wasn’t even a major note to his time. He held the whole affair in a few hours’ time, keeping Hakuno on the palace steps as he had planned. They poured the perfumed waters over her, brushing back her hair and allowing him his way.

He found himself curling up against her at night, peppering her in attention as she fell asleep in his arms.

Each night, he found himself pulling tablet after tablet from her hands, telling her to rest and finding that her hands would attempt to grasp those tablets a little longer.

“Let me finish my work.”

“You’re not reading with your eyes closed, you fool. Don’t lie to your king about working.”

The sticking out of her tongue earned her long punishments of his mouth slammed against hers, stealing away his own pleasures from her. Her small whimpers in response, when she gave them, earned her soft touches and low murmurs. In the span of a couple months, they had it down to routines she would break apart.

Just when he thought she would only whimper or throw him attitude, she began to set her tablets aside and climb into his arms more.

Those brown eyes looked up at him in his bed and he found himself pulled beneath her.

He’d been preparing to kill that goddess for attacking what was his. He had been so prepared for severing her head from her shoulders, tossing her head to the god, Enlil and laughing forever and a day about it.

Enkidu was helping him to prepare for the fights to come, they had gone to the Cedar Forest just the other week to look at the perspective slaughter of the fool who held dominion there.

They’d seen the destruction of the bodies of warriors who had gone up against the beast. They knew Humbaba would be quite the foe to defeat.

However, he found himself still turning back and crawling back into bed with Hakuno. He still found himself nipping along her stomach and up to her lips, stealing those for himself instead. He could feel her squirm beneath his touch, her small smile pathetically effective.

Time had come and gone, leaving him with a rounded woman in his bed and a strange restlessness in his spirit. He could feel that something was off with every fiber of his being, but he couldn’t tell what that something was. At times, he found find his attention waning in the audience chamber, his lions curling around him as he sought to understand what was causing this strange feeling within him.

Perhaps it was the lack of war.

Now that he was thinking about it, he had not gone so long without a war or squabble to win. Typically, there would be disputes in relation to perspective wives for him or there would be debates over how to handle the situation of kingdom tensions. His solution had always been more along the lines of being proactive.

“Enkidu.”

The being glanced over to him.

“I think it’s time we go defeat Humbaba, don’t you think?”

The responding smile was all he needed for that. Gilgamesh called forth for Siduri and the advisors, beginning the long list of what would be needed in his absence. Hakuno was still new to their world, still accustoming herself to their language and to the culture. Siduri would be helpful, but he would ensure that the advisors held themselves properly as mouthpieces for the two women in his absence.

Enkidu was practically lounging by the time he was done, their hands teasing at one of the lion cubs and squishing toe beans.

“Enkidu? Are we going or not?”

The being raised a brow at him.

“What?”

“You’re not telling Hakuno of these plans?”

Why would he need to do such a thing as that?

The woman had heard about his thoughts for the Cedar Forest. She’d babbled on about the monster and about her world, to which he had politely stopped listening by admiring the way their child was slightly kicking at her stomach. His child was growing well enough. It wouldn’t be long now.

“Gil… Actually, I’m going to pretend I didn’t ask.” The being shook their head at him and straightened their robes. “So we’re leaving now?”

“We’ll grab food from the kitchens and set off.”

It was easier to simply be gone a few days and then return to Hakuno.

He’d found she was amorous after he did that during the days. He would go to the audience chamber or to the kingdom districts, finding her baubles from time to time and returning only after the sun had set. She would lay there in the center of the bed, her brown hair brushed out and her body bare to his eyes.

There’d be a tongue lashing, which would often lead to grumbling when he laughed or to other things her tongue could do when he decided to humor her.

A couple days away would earn him more than simple chastising though, she’d be all but clawing at him to climb into their bed. She’d have that narrowed gaze and those bright, focused gaze that seared him straight to the soul. He’d probably find himself ridden to the point of exhaustion, bitten and sucked on enough to sport a collection of jewelry in the form of love marks.

The kitchen boys asked him of fear for the beast.

“You do not know how my Hakuno can get when I return late to her bedside. A beast like Humbaba is merely a child in comparison.”

They moved out into the night, weapons strapped to their backs and food safely tucked away.

The winds blew hard at them as they left the kingdom gates, the lights of the palace illuminating the darkness until the hills came between them. They rode the horses that they had taken until the horses could no longer walk.

The hours of the day became longer, the sun scorching at their skin.

The night hours became hauntingly quiet, leaving the sounds of the animals to sound like the shouting of forlorn lovers.

He could feel that sense of foreboding building as they marched across the lands, their skin beginning to crawl with every rainfall and dry with every morning’s mounting heat. There was something wrong with their actions, but there was no time to back down now.

Words had been given.

They were expected dead or with a dead body in arms.

Still…

“Something is wrong,” Gilgamesh found himself telling the being nearby.

“Oh?” The being snickered a little, leaning back on their fallen log and regarding him for a moment. “Are you sure it isn’t just because you’re used to having Hakuno around to cuddle up against?”

“I’m being serious, Enkidu.”

“I am as well.”

The being motioned him back to the campfire, leaning against his side.

“You’re used to her. I’m sure it’s just being away that’s strange.”

“Oh?”

“Well, that and maybe the fact that we’re going to kill that monster attacking people and then utilize these trees for something useful.” Enkidu shrugged. “Just keep a few up to regrow. I want to see the monkeys again when I take your son out to go hunting.”

“Don’t you mean when ‘we’ take my son hunting?”

“Hmm? Oh! Oh. You think Hakuno will let you live after this. That’s so funny. Oh, I’ll tell that joke to little Nanna when he’s out of his ummum. ‘Your father, Gilgamesh, told me this great joke about being able to take you hunting, but failed to realize that he’s been being haunted by some magic that’s been tugging at his person.”

He shoved at the fool. “Enkidu!”

“It’s nothing! Don’t worry about it, Gil. I’m sure she’ll probably get over it after making you her footrest for a few days-“

“We’re bringing her back the beast’s head.”

“UM! GIL! Maybe let’s get her a nice necklace-“

He would bring Humbaba’s head on a stake for her. When she saw it, he’d be in the clear from this magic nonsense. This was for the safety of the people and her.

It was also a way to get more resources for expanding Uruk.

The thought of her being mad didn’t lessen with that plan. Instead, he found himself pacing, his mood darkening further as Enkidu ate at their hunted down food.

“She has no right to be upset,” Gilgamesh growled.

“You left without saying goodbye.”

“Hakuno is fully aware of her duties as my queen. She knows that she will have times where I leave without informing her. The kingdom and safety of our people-“

Enkidu’s look stilled his words.

He glared back at them, but he couldn’t find that train of thought anymore. Whatever he’d been going on about, he knew he was right. Hakuno was no doubt exaggerating the whole ordeal. No doubt it was due to being very heavily pregnant with his son. Or daughter, but he rather doubted that his first child by Hakuno would be a girl.

They set quietly now, the two of them.

He could no more grasp words than he could eat his full fill of the meal. He had Enkidu enjoy themselves before laying down to rest.

Perhaps he should have said goodbye for the time being.

Hakuno was new to their culture. Despite learning of him and learning what life was like for the Uruk people, she knew so very little. There was only so much one could learn about a culture in the span of a couple months.

Had she slept without him around before?

Now that he was thinking about it, he wasn’t sure she’d ever been without him at her side at night. Normally, she lost herself in his embrace before resting.

The head of Humbaba and perhaps a lion cub.

The forest was filled with wildlife. Finding a few more pets for the palace would be a simple matter. Enkidu could help tame the thing before he presented them to Hakuno.

She’d forgive him because he would leave her with no other choice.

After all, her heart was encased and immersed in love for him. All she would be able to do is revel further in her devotion to him.

“Enkidu.”

He nudged the being now, finding that dawn’s light had come to the forest early.

Their feet pattered across the grassy floor of the forest, surpassing snakes and beasts to head for the dark center of this wooded city. They found the beast atop one of the highest cliffsides, its arms ripping and tearing at the body of what had to be one of the acclaimed fighters from the kingdom of Ur.

Their hands took to the rocks, tugging and pulling themselves up the side of the cliffs. He could feel the spurts of red as they came tumbling down the side. They could hear the inhuman sounds of the beast in the distance as it raged and destroyed at the bodies it had collected.

“The head is mine,” Gilgamesh told Enkidu simply.

The lifted themselves up the last of the distance and lunged.

Things felt right.

His blade sang in the air. His adrenaline was pounding in his ears, his eyes focused on blow after blow. He could see Enkidu using the chains to hold the beast back, but they were having their hands full as well. The being knew how to work with a handicap like the chains.

Humbaba gripped the golden chains in hand, swinging Enkidu wildly as Gilgamesh went after them. When he struck a blow, it was only with the beast slamming him with another rainfall of attacks and blows to block or dodge. He could taste blood on his lips. He could see the sun in two places. His senses were ringing or perhaps it was just the sound cutting out on him.

Those piercing eyes looked into his and he saw nothing but a beast to hunt.

This beast stood in the way of going home, of returning to his bed and his woman. He could feel something stab at him, his side piercing with a sudden explosion of warmth and stinging pain, but he didn’t look down.

Drawing in a breath, he opened his eyes and swung fast.

Enkidu had taken the moment to yank on the chains that held themselves to Humbaba’s grasp, yanking the mighty forest protector down. Rather than a blow to the arm, Gilgamesh felt his blade hit the beast’s neck, sliding straight through them with the sickliest sound of death he had ever heard.

The beast trembled, holding at the space where its head once stood. They could see the head rolling off into the grass, a fountain of crimson spilling into the air, coloring at the deep blue skies that hung overhead.

And, with an echoing banging, the beast fell.

Humbaba was dead.

Gilgamesh panted, looking to Enkidu.

“…Gil…Gil!”

Enkidu rushed forward, clambering around the chains and wrapping their arms around him. Their eyes widened at whatever they thought they were seeing.

“Stay with me.”

“I’m not going anywhere, you fool. Grab the head for Hakuno. Let’s go home.”

The being shouted, but he couldn’t hear them well. The pain was worsening. It was a bit hard to concentrate right now.

He wasn’t even sure what was happening, but there was a blur of motion around him whenever he opened his eyes. He could feel the movement of someone running, but he could also feel his conquered foe’s head in his arms.

Hakuno needed this for forgiving him. He’d left her all alone in the ziggurat, lost in his time without him. He would take a few days from the audience chamber and spend them coaxing her into her proper state.

She was like the lionesses after their mate would vanish for too long.

Ah, but she would stay at his side.

That was at least something he could count on.

“We must take him to the temple of Ishtar! She can heal-“

“The goddess would kill him,” Enkidu’s voice growled.

“There are no temples other than hers close to the forest,” another voice argued. “Whatever his qualms may be, he needs healing or he will die. The beast struck him with a deadly poison-“

“Find an apsu!” Enkidu insisted.

Was he dying?

Truly?

It didn’t make sense to die so easily. He was the great king, after all. He had an heir on the way and he had a kingdom of people to rule over. There was no time for him to close his eyes and rest. He had to rise up and he had to walk home. He could take his horse once they returned to the beasts and the selection of soldiers that they’d left the two beasts with.

“He won’t make it to Uruk,” the other voices insisted. “Being of Enki, please… He must go to Ishtar.”

Gilgamesh forced his eyes open, glancing up at his general. The soldiers weren’t far off, already beginning the deforestation of the Cedar Forest.

The moment he returned his gaze to the general, he spat on him.

“Take me to my queen.”

He’d never left Hakuno’s side for long as a cat. He would not do so as a man. 

The goddess, Ishtar, could burn in Ereshkigal’s fires for all he cared.

[tobeathief]

Prophecies and Spiky Cats Chapter 3: Also available to read on Ao3, fanfiction.net and wattpad

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Two weeks had passed since Sabetha had decided to leave Karthain, to leave Locke and Jean, at the strong encouragement of Patience. The ship's crew had taken to calling her the demon tamer, due to the fact she would scarcely be seen on deck without Locke, the little cat she had adopted, around her neck.

He refused to go near anyone else and would hiss and scratch at them if they so much as looked at him the wrong way, a fact Sabetha felt very amused by. The cat kept any would-be handsy sailors well out of her path, and for that, she was very very thankful.

They were just south-east of the Sea of Brass when a storm picked up around the ship, whipping the deck into chaos. These past weeks had been a leisurely cruise, idyllic weather every day, that with the quickness that this storm came in, it could only be God's given.

The ship was quickly turned into chaos and Sabetha didn't know what to do. For the first time in her life, she was in a situation she didn't have any skills in. She didn't know how to hoist the mainsails or man the wheel.

Her hair was whipping in her face, drenched by the cold rain and seawater, as she noticed the lifeboats clattering cautiously in the wind. Thunder rumbled all around her and mixed with the shouts and screams of the crew.

Locke was wrapped frightened around her neck, hiding in her hair. His claws digging into the sensitive skin there, Sabetha tried not to grimace. One of the sailors rushed past her, knocking her to her knees on the wet deck as a bolt of lightning split the sky and hit one of the ropes of the lifeboats, breaking it effortlessly. The lifeboat began to sway with the force, and dangling by one rope, started swinging dangerously close to the crew's oblivious heads.

Sabetha scrambled to her feet, Locke still firmly fixed on her neck and raced for the snapped rope. She leaned over the railing grasping for it as the ship swayed and creaked beneath her feet. After a few perilous tries, Sabetha succeeded, pulling the rope down just in time for the lifeboat to swing up and narrowly miss decapitating Solus Volantyne. He clutched his chest in shock as in his worried state trying to keep the crew in order, he hadn't seen it swinging for him.

"I owe you my life Verena," he remarked as Sabetha struggled with the rope.

"Don't thank me yet."

Volantyne then continued to shout orders at his terrified crew, and Sabetha was left to wrestle the rope herself. The rope creaked and strained, burning her hands as it tried to pull out of her grasp. Sabetha bit her lip with the strain, and Locke yowled in fear.

Another big wave crashed onto the ship, drenching Sabetha and Locke to the bone. The cat let out another yowl. In the shock, the rope began to pull again, finally slipping out of Sabetha's grasp. "NO!" she shouted, reaching over the railing again. Another wave crashed on the deck and washed Sabetha over with it.

She hit the water with a painful splash. The ice-cold water biting her as she struggled to stay afloat. Locke was miraculously still attached to her, stiff and shivering, tension down his long body. Sabetha tried to shout up, but the commotion was too load, the storm too violent. Nobody could hear her. So she continued to kick uselessly at the water. A few metres away something else fell into the water, causing another splash to coat the pair. The lifeboat Sabetha had been wrestling with.

Sabetha tried not to think too much as she felt something rub up against her leg and paddled for the empty boat. Reaching the side, she grasped ungracefully for the rim. The hardwood pinched her palms as she struggled to pull her weight up into the boat. After a few useless pulls, she finally did it, and woman and cat splattered into the hull.

Locke was shaking and was no doubt as scared and wet as she was. He was wide-eyed and his fur was sticking in all directions. Both hacked up seawater immediately, the feeling of it burning Sabetha's throat, and then collapsed in a heap.

When she had caught her breath, Sabetha again tried to shout and signal the crew on the ship. She cautiously stood up on shaky feet and waved her arms about, pleading for anyone to notice her, but no one did. And they were drifting further and further away. Locke yowled an even uglier sound and hide beneath one of the benches as they watched another bolt of lightning hit the Volantyne's Resolve, setting fire to one of the mainsails.

"Shit. Shit!" Sabetha cursed, shouting again with all the air in her lungs. She continued shouting until her voice was coarse, and the Volantyne's Resolve was too far out into the horizon. She collapsed back into the hull and coughed again. This time blood spattered onto her and wiping her mouth decided it was in her best interest to ignore that.

Locke looked at her nervously from his hiding place and she just sighed, before everything went dark.

Sabetha woke up to burning hot sunshine, and with Locke nervously licking and nipping at her face. She brushed him off and he let out an excited and relieved meow in response. Her neck and shoulders killed from where Locke had been digging his claws in for so long, and her whole body ached. She could barely move.

The calm ocean was a mockery to what it had been the night before, and no ship could be seen as far as Sabetha could see off into the horizon. They were well and truly lost at sea.

It served her right. She should have stayed with Locke and Jean, discarded Patience's words. At least then she might have been able to die with her family. She had run to protect a future she will no doubt not get. She would have been a useless mother anyway. She's too stubborn and aggressive to ever hope to be the calm and caring mother she hoped to be.

Patience had tricked her. And she fell headfirst for it. Locke yowled and started to bite at her hand. He was no doubt still frightened and hungry. She was too. But this was how they were to die. Miles from home, from the man she loved. In an empty boat with a grumpy cat. If she was to die first, the cat would no doubt eat her. By the time anyone came across her corpse, it will be half-rotted and mauled. Completely unrecognisable.

Locke will no doubt think she had abandoned him forever, found a wealthy man and lived a wild life. He'll no doubt die alone and cold and bitter. Cursing her name in his last dying breath.

Jean would hate her. That she knew. Hate her for the pain she will have caused his particular friend who he is devoted too so tenderly. A devotion that caused ice to form in her heart.

That second night was one of the worst. One she spent the whole time awake. Locke had propped himself up on the edge of the boat and tried to drink the seawater, but she battered him down telling him how dangerous it was.

In the early glow of the morning, Sabetha spent a few hours trying to grab a curious fish to eat. Eventually, she succeeded, but it was barely longer than her finger. She fed it to Locke. He needed it more than her.

As the third night crawled in, cold wrapped itself around the boat. Locke snuggled into her for any remaining warmth, and they laid curled up shivering.

By the fourth morning, and the blistering heat, Sabetha drank the seawater.

The fifth morning, Sabetha woke to shouting and banging. Locke was freaking out, yowling with all his little lungs could muster. Sabetha sat up groggily to be face to face with a pirate and she yelped.

"I'd be damned Captain. The redhead is alive!" Sabetha tried to shuffle back only to notice she was stuck in her little lifeboat surrounded by pirates. Sabetha threw up once again, seawater coating her shivering form. The last thing she saw was a striking woman, with black skin and braided hair, rings pierced the arch of her ear and her eyes burrowed into Sabetha's soul, and then everything went blank.

Sabetha awoke in a cabin. Not as lavish as her one of the Volantyne's resolve, but smart and cosy enough. She could feel a little hand stroking her head and for a minute she thought it might be the little cat. To her surprise when she opened her eyes, two pairs of striking young eyes stared down at her, Sabetha sat up with a start.

"Ok, give her space now you two." The children backed off immediately and sat legs crossed about a metre away patiently. "I hope you don't mind, they were worried about you and I've been trying to teach them about medicine." Sabetha shook her head. The owner of the voice was the woman she has seen before she had passed out, but Sabetha had been sure she was the Captain, why would she be nursing her? "Now drink this." Before Sabetha could argue, a cold sour liquid was forced down her throat. It was probably one of the worse things she had ever drunk, and she gagged. "Ah ah ah," the woman warned, "don't go throwing that up in my lovely cabin, I won't be able to get the smell out for weeks, and it's good for you, you need the nutrients.

"How long have I been out?" Sabetha said, the sound coming out a raspy whisper.

"A few days. You have woken up a few times like this, I've shoved this tonic down your throat, and you've fallen back asleep. Something I suggest you do again."

"What about the cat I was with, he's mostly black and he's got a little dot of white on his neck."

"The cat is safe too. Already running the mice on board wild."  

Sabetha smiled in relief and let herself slip back into sleep.

It had been a week since she had initially woken up on the ship when Sabetha had enough strength to take a walk up onto the deck. As she pushed open the door, she was momentarily blinded by the brightness of the sky and swayed unsteadily on her feet.

"Oh, steady their redhead, don't want you falling overboard when we've just fixed ya up." It was the pirate she saw when she first awoke. She stood about an inch shorter than Sabetha and had light brown skin with cropped dark hair. Her eyes were the beautiful green of seawater, and her face was slightly flushed with the sun.

"Thank you," Sabetha said, rather breathlessly gripping onto the arm she held out for her.

"The names Asha, I'm the second mate on the Poison Orchid, nice to meet you," Sabetha smiled. It was welcoming to have a friendly face and Sabetha was put at ease.

"I'm Sabetha." Before she could stop herself, her true name slipped out of her throat, she cursed herself for being so clumsy and hoped it wouldn't come back to haunt her.

"Sabetha…" Asha let the name roll on her tongue a few times, "unusual."

"Uh, thanks," Sabetha replied, still squinting in the brightness of the sun.

"Want to take a turn around the deck with me and then go and eat something?"

"I've already had my tonic today."

"I don't mean that corpse shit, I mean some proper food. We haven't long stopped off at shore, so we've got stocks of it, and it's more than just ships crackers!"

Sabetha smiled again, "That sounds great." Asha linked her arms through hers and took her for a walk around the ship. Asha muttered on about all the different parts and where not to go, as well as the latest crew gossip. Sabetha smiled a real smile for the first time in a while. It had been a very long time since she had had a friend like this.

Memories of her times with Nazca at the last mistake, sat on the roof drinking brandy filled her mind. They would both talk over each other in an excited rumble Sabetha was surprised they ever understood each other. Nazca would talk about her brothers, and her dream to be Capa one day and laugh about all of the men who would hit on her to try and win her father's favour. Nazca had only told Sabetha as far as she knew that she was only interested in women. She kept it a secret from her father and brothers and though they loved her very much, she knew it would go down like a sinking ship. If she was to be Capa, she needed to have children to pass on the legacy. Something Nazca had no interest in doing.

Nazca often told her about her dalliances with women. They were frequent, and rarely with the same person. Sabetha often thought that Nazca might have a sex life to rival that of the Sanza's. She'd even slept with both of the Berangia sisters. To think they caused her father's death filled Sabetha's stomach with disgust. To think they were flirting with Nazca while plotting her father's death. They deserved the death they got at the wrong end of Jean's hatchets.

"Are you ok? You've gone all glassy-eyed?" Asha said, breaking a roll of bread in half and offering one half to Sabetha. She took it and didn't hesitate in taking a bite. Her first real bite of food in weeks. The bread was slightly bland, but Sabetha ate it as if it was the last thing she would ever eat, and then helped herself to another full roll.

Asha didn't comment, just offered her olives and little fish, which Sabetha graciously accepted. "I'm good, just really hungry apparently," Sabetha smiled between mouthfuls. Asha nodded and then walked her back to her cabin.

[iammarylastar]

1. Alone amongst brothers.

"Cal! Hey mate where are you?" Snowballs clicked his fingers under his nose, startling him.

Bad idea. Never startle an ex cop ex Marine who hadn't slept for years.

Chris -his real name was Chris- came out of his reverie and offered a poor smile to his brothers. Obviously missing his goal to reassure his squad.

Who was he kidding?

He hadn't been here for years. For 3 years. 3 fucking years.

He hadn't been the same since he came out of prison. Since his brother, his real brother fled to Canada, to never return.

Since Oyster, his little brother killed that asshole in a bar.

Thinking about it, all this shit had started after their mother died.

Big, huge mess she had left behind.

He reluctantly came back to the world, that world without his mom nor his brother, that world where he's a useless piece of shit, forbidden to serve his country in any way.

Reverie couldn't have been more inappropriate. Living nightmare would have fit better.

"Next round on me." Jaeger announced with too much enthusiasm.

"Same?" He quirked an eyebrow at Cal, who just nodded, not bothering to say a word.

He didn't need another beer. Alcohol free. Taste free too. He'd been nursing the same bottle since he settled his ass in the bar, mind absently scratching the corner of the label with his nail.

He had been sentenced to 6 years and spent 3 at Pittsburgh Correctional Institution. He got a release, good behaviour. He'd been lucky, somehow, half of the prisoners were there because of him. Death had waited for him at every corner, but freedom hadn't tasted better.

A lot had happened in 3 years. Life had gone on whilst his had stopped behind the bars.

Snowball found his soulmate Carlo, Jaeger finally got Claire back, they married last year and were expecting their first child. Milk spawned two boys, fuck he'd been out for a long time.

Brotherhood meant leave no one behind. He had Oyster's back, he did what had to be done to save his brother from jail. Sentencing himself, ruining his own life.

He got nothing left. No wife, no family. Sure, his bros had always cared, hanging out, working out, having him in for all their kids birthdays, family barbecues, even last Christmas when Claire and Jaeger announced the good news.

They all exploded, hugging Claire and clapping Jaeger's shoulder, whooping and cheering like madmen.

He was genuinely happy for both of them and tried to ignore the stab in his guts.

For once he wanted and was in the mood to celebrate. Till his eyes landed on the blessed couple's wedding pic pinned on the wall, then spotted another showing his brothers in uniform, proudly posing with the groom.

Stab.

He wasn't there and it killed him.

Claire told him they got a seat settled in his honor and it hurt more deeply.

He had missed so many events, so many people.

Oyster.

He had spent most of his miserable life to raise his little brother -half brother but who cares?- kicked his ass every morning to have him secured at school, kicking his own ass to quit both grief and booze and pass his exams to assure them a future.

Look what future both fucked up.

If only he could have the slightest news of him, knowing his brother was fine and safe somewhere in Canada, a letter, a call, an emoji on whatever social media... but no. The cops were still looking for Oyster for Ben Daley's murder and as a cop -ex cop- he knew he and his mates have been under surveillance since day one.

Oyster had been MIA for 3 years with no chance of brightest days.

And he was left alone with nobody to care for and nobody to love.

His sentence had him kicked out from the police department, along with his staff sergeant status. No job. No rules to give rhythm to his days. No incomes but a few light works here and there in the neighborhood. The people he knew always put in a good word about him and hopefully people didn't ask for his criminal record before hiring him for fixing their roof, painting their fronts or uprooting a tree stump.

Yeah he had a lot to add to his resume: by-the-book cop, dauntless staff sergeant in the Marine corps, 2 rounds in Iraq, baby sitter and groundskeeper. Impressive.

"Man, look at this chick over there." Milk nudged him. "She's been eyeing you like she's willing to drop her panties for you."

Cal finally lifted his eyes and glanced at the girl in question. Thin, sexy, a blouse full of goodies, gaudy red lipstick, prying eyes.

Maybe he needed to get laid. He hadn't had sex since he came out of prison. His mates planned a party to celebrate his freedom and got him a working girl for the occasion but he wasn't in the mood.

He hadn't been interested in sex, not after what has happened in prison, not even a quick handjob while watching a porn. No. Scratch that. He's been forced into lame and painful wankings when his balls threatened to explode, but it was no fun at all. Far, far from it.

A slight nausea invaded his throat of the reminder and he forced the thought out.

Double sentence. If he hadn't suffered PTSD after what he did and witnessed in Iraq, then he got his trauma.

He might never use his cock again. Playground out of order. Broken.

"Nahhh... She looks cheap. Guys I don't need another blind date, you know. Your Tracy girl was crazy, she scared the shit out of me with her earlobe-licking... fetishism." Cal rubbed his earlob with a disgusting frown on his face, having all his skwad laughing out loud, wiggling all tongues out.

"Listen Cal. You need to get laid. You need a good fuck to come back to life. You're hot stuff still, you just need to pick up some gorgeous chick and have some fun! Before your dick just deceases from dehydration." Jaeger joked, hilarity ensued.

He looked around the crowded bar, tired. Tired to pretend he could be interested in that kind of date.

He didn't need a one night stand. He didn't need some cunt to fuck. He needed someone to love. And be loved in return.

Like the ol'time when he lived with his mom. Or with Oyster. He needed someone who cared.

"Thank you guys but I'm tired. I better go home and get some sleep. Need to wake up early and..."

His lame excuses got cut off by an angry Milk.

"Oh yeah, because you do have so much to do tomorrow, don't you? Cleaning up the house and walk Mrs Riley's pet? That's why you're leaving your brothers now? Cal, when are you going to get rid of this shit and be alive again? It's been 3 years already, move on for fuck sake!"

Cal didn't blink. He deserved to be scolded by his gang. He's been no fun, nothing more than a burden for them. A big piece of shit, whining about all he'd lost. Poor thing. Soon he'd lose them.

He was whining again. He's got the best friends he could dream of, people he could call his brothers, who were totally devoted to him, heart and soul.

His family. His home.

Those guys made it all easy for him while his time in prison. Paying him a visit each week, twice a week when they were off. They paid for his lawyer, his loan for the house so he wouldn't be homeless when he got out of prison. So he didn't have to break into his savings and get ruined in 6 months.

They did it in a heartbeat, without thinking nor asking for his permission. They told him it was the right thing to do. The same way Cal had them home, safe and sound after their tour in Iraq. Beside Jaeger's leg, abandoned there. How guilty he had felt, and still.

He owed them... everything.

He leant on his elbows and rubbed his face. He considered staying and trying to relax and have some fun, but his mood was definitely shitty.

Time to shake his thoughts and his big ass. He survived the war, survived in jail, he could survive this night.

"OK fuckers. But I don't want to bury my future here." He emptied his drink, slammed it loudly on the table.

"Let's get home and shake the walls!"

He grabbed his other beer and clinked glasses with his mates, and chugged it whilst his bros cheered and downed their own drinks.

"Last one at my mailbox is a loser!" Cal jumped on his feet and started running through the door.

"Ohhhh, you bastard!" Milk shouted, running after him, quickly followed by an enthusiast Snowball.

Jeager rolled his eyes and took out his wallet to pay the bill. He wouldn't win anyway, his fucking metal leg was no match for those big machines.

The three guys were messing around by the front door, playfully wrestling to pass first.

Cal jammed Milk's head in between his bulging biceps and disheveled his neat hairstyle, having him struggling even more for his freedom, grunting with rage. Snowball was stuck against the wall, the two heavy guys struggling were keeping him to head towards the door.

In a joint effort to get free, Snowball and Milk pushed Cal with all their strength until he popped out like a Champagne cork, sent flying against the wall. Just as the door opened on someone coming in.

Cal ended up glued to them, pinned on the wall, crushed against his broad chest.

"Whoah, whoah, whoah! What the hell?" A muffled voice came from underneath Cal's body.

"Holy shit, I'm sorry!" He apologized, peeling his body from a smaller and thinner one.

His hands flat against the wall, each side of a face. A beautiful face. Still blurry, he was too close to focus.

Never too close... he thought. Her smell itself made him stop.

"I'm sorry!" He uttered, forcing a step back. Finally able to focus on delicate features.

"I'm fine, I'm fine...uh, hey... I'm Jessica. " She said in a big grin as she rearranged the strands of hair away from her face.

"Nice to meet you..." She started, inviting him to introduce himself.

"Milk, nice to meet you gorgeous." The bastard spoke first, getting on Cal's business, more than happy to embarrass his mate.

"And this is Snowball" he continued, shamelessly stepping on Cal's toes and bluntly pushing him to the side.

"Ma'am!" Snowball bowed before an amused Jessica, glancing at the three boys with a smirk. "Please, accept our sincere apologies. I hope this giant idiot didn't hurt you when so roughly trying to get your attention."

Jessica let her eyes wander at the big stud's body and face, making sure it didn't turn into a stare. The man was built like a brick house, huge arms, solid chest, his short hair suggested he was a cop or a soldier, his handsome face obviously annoyed by his friends' demeanour. His gorgeous self nodding his head while pressing his so soft looking lips together. She felt her heart stop and her inside melt when they locked stares. His blue eyes were captivating and something slapped her in the face. Through his hilarious expression and attractive features, he looked so... sad and lonely. So much she wanted to pull him in in a hug and never let him go.

She forced her eyes back at the two dummies still making the show for her.

"And this!" Milk nudged his pal, "this is Chris Callahan, the man you need.

The thoughtfulness itself, well, when it's not nearly killing you, this guy is not only strong, courageous and handsome, thanks God he's also single."

Cal wanted nothing more than vanish from embarrassment after getting rid of that motherfucker of a so called best friend. On a definitive way.

But the more Milk was blurting his shit out, the more Jessica looked amused and kind of interested in him.

Eyeing him. The cutest smile on her lips. Which she bit when she finally was caught staring.

"This big sweet heart is to take darling, and you'd be a fool not to try your luck with him."

Milk got a little closer and lowered his voice "I heard he's got amazing skills, like... look at the size of his feet!"

The 2 guys barked a laugh, clunching at each other while Cam just chuckled and sighed, more uncomfortable than ever. Jessica shared the guys big laugh then winked at Cal, before glancing down to judge their size by herself.

Milk wiped the tears from his face, oh Lord he loved making fun of his mate so very much. Calming down his panting, he stepped back, still hooked to an exhilarated Snowball.

"If you want to excuse us mylady, we're up for a male race contest, where the loser will have to walk butt naked the entire week." He said, bowing out at Jessica, then stepping out of the bar with renewed loud laughs.

Cal just shifted uneasily on his spot, figuring out a way to stop looking like the dumbest guy on Earth.

"Sorry... That was... pretty awkward, wasn't it?" He shyly tried, mentally kicking in own ass to not have found something clever to say.

"Found it very funny actually, you guys made my day!" Her genuine smile cheered him up a little.

"Those guys are total weirdoes, please do not believe a single word of what they say." Cal flashed one of his best smile, pretty sure it would work for him.

"Seems your friends think very highly of you. The resume they made of you is quite appealing, you know." She made it sounds like a joke but couldn't help wondering about that nice guy, nice looking guy all in embarrassment in front of her.

And the size of his... feet.

"Yeah... Well, wait to meet them once they're not drunk and you might hear a different story." Cal shoved his hands deep in his pockets. Looking so cute.

"So... Cal, I'm looking forward to hang out with your smartass group of friends, and hear all kind of stories about you, I bet each more embarrassing than the last!" Jessica's fingers were playing with a strand of her hair against her will, flirting.

And it seemed this didn't get unnoticed, by the way Cal's stare lingered on her delicate features.

"I... I've got to go and look after those drunken asses before they get into more trouble. I won't stop hearing of it if I don't beat them tonight. It was so nice to meet you and again, apologies for so rudely bumping into you."

Chris scratched the back of his neck, torn between two options. Stay and risk to embarrass himself more and more, or leave and risk to never see her again.

"It's OK, Chris I'm fine. We would find a way to make it up for nearly knocking me down earlier. Go get them, we could meet another time. I'm new in town but I'm here for some time, let's catch up later!"

Chris chuckled, mumbled a cocky "sure!" through an enormous grin, dared to throw a wink at her before turning heels and walked out of the bar.

"I hope you lose!" She shouted at him as he reluctantly started to jog towards his mates.

"Thank you...?" Chris turned to face her again, walking backward, wearing an astonished expression. That was not the kind of support he expected.

"I may not know much about you, but I figured seeing you walk up the streets butt naked could be fun!"

Chris couldn't help the large grin taped on his face to turn into a big smile, that charismatic pant-dropping smile that had been MIA for years was finally back.

As he jogged back to his drunken brothers, in absolute no hurry, a light in heart, he felt like that stupid smile wouldn't leave his face for quite a while.