#lantern light lantern bright first lantern I see tonight

[hannahssimblr]

The air is burning rubber and grill smoke. Hot, like a damp blanket wrapped around us. Wet, if not from the rains, then the air itself, as we bike along the black veins of Bangkok. Loud and fragrant, bright with lanterns glowing through the night. An entire world, a million lives under the awnings, darting across the street in random leaps of courage. Tuk Tuks and cars and bicycles weaving in anarchic sequences. When it rains, wet umbrellas catch the lights. Red, yellow, purple, green.

The bike is hot, purring beneath me, slick tarmac and the splash of dirty water over my shoes, as Jonas, behind, curses in English. He is diligent about using my language around me, including when getting hit by a van. His bike slides and crashes to the ground underneath him. I pull my brakes and wait until he’s up again while the traffic weaves around me. He’s fine, as always, only for another scratch on his leg, bleeding, but hardly. His blood is washed thin, then yellow, then away. We say something to each other about how he should have seen it coming, moved quicker. There are no rules here but one: the biggest will go first. We, and our dinged up hired motorbikes, are far from the biggest, and so, as they say, we must get the fuck out of the way. 

It’s Brandon, the American from the hostel we arrange to meet at a tiny bar at Khao San Road, a circus of neon I wish I could paint. “Mathematics at Oberlin,” he said when he introduced himself, as though defined by the supposed prestige of his degree. He was visibly disappointed, then, when neither of us had heard of Oberlin, and pivoted to defining himself by his Adderall habit. It isn’t a genuine medical need. He just likes it.  

“I’m going to out-drink the Irishman tonight,” he announces to the crowd we’ve gathered amongst. Twelve or more of us, with varying English abilities, huddled under an awning and dodging sheets of rain that spill over the edge. 

“Best of luck,” I say, though he will out-drink me, no doubt. My half-Irishness has done nothing to aid my ability to drink without being violently ill. Like the time I tried a pint of Guinness in the smoking area and promptly regurgitated foam down the front of my sweatshirt. I try anyway, drinking things put in front of me with abandon, like a man who doesn’t fear death.

A few hours of this, then several of us do shots of something mysterious served from an old three litre water bottle that is so incredibly strong it instantly activates my gag reflex. 

“Deep breaths,” Jonas tells me, his hand on my shoulder out the front of the bar as I fist the back of my hair and suck in lungfuls of air that is too humid to be satisfying. 

“I think I’ll probably get sick every single day we’re in Thailand,” I say, quivering with despair over a puddle with my own distorted reflection.

“Maybe you should take a night off, then.”

“I don’t want to.”

He pushes his fringe away from his forehead. It is milk white against his tanned face. “Just because everyone else is doing something doesn’t mean you have to. You’re no less of a man because-”

“I’m not the kind of person that gets peer pressured. I can say no.”

A pause. “Well, yes, I can see that.”

“We’re here to have fun, not to be tucked up in the hostel bunks by ten every night. We’re just-” I fight back a wave of nausea. “-making the most of it.”

“I see. You are enjoying vomiting on the streets every night.”

“Please don’t say that word to me.”

“Okay. You should take a break. Maybe no more drinking tonight.”

I shrug him away, irritated. “I’ll be fine in a minute.”

“Sorry,” he says, and leaves me to gag on my own, though I’m lonely without him there.

I am actually fine after a few minutes, and hours later as the night continues, I find myself with Brandon as he is going on about something, talking at me in a way that is not exactly annoying, yet persistent and unending. I let his words wash over me, that familiar manic cocaine cadence. 

We do bumps with him, Jonas and I, every twenty minutes, trips to the bathroom, and then eventually when the bar is so full, and we are squeezed into our corner by dozens of bodies, we do bumps off the hostel key cards and the tips of our fingers. Then I’m talking at Jonas, and Jonas is talking at me, and Brandon at us both while we all pretend to listen, and enjoy so much the feeling of it, the fleeting flames in our blood, the world better and brighter for the few minutes before it fades, and we start all over again. 

“What’s better, coke or sex?” Says Brandon, and I get what he’s going for, but this is a stupid question. 

“You have an addiction if you’re asking me that.” I remember it is time to call Astrid. I need to tell her something. Slipping my phone from my pocket, I go to outside the bar among the percussive hammer of the rain.

“Hello?” Her voice is sharp and sober. 

“Astrid. I’m just calling because I was thinking of you, and I need to let you know how much I love you. Like, seriously love you and I’m so lucky that your my girlfriend, and that you’ve decided to be with me. I miss you so much when I’m here and I can’t wait to come home and be with you again, and I just-”

“Jude, you phoned me an hour ago to say this.”

I rear back, offended. “No, I didn’t.”

“You did. We had this exact conversation.”

I don’t think Astrid really understands the weight of what I’m trying to tell her. I love her. She’s so special to me, and has to know the way I feel about her right now, or I think I might explode. 

“I miss you.”

“I know you do, but it’s seven in the evening in Germany, okay? This is not a conversation I want to have with you now. I’m on the way to have dinner with Elias. We discussed this earlier, remember? You called me as I was getting dressed and ready to go out.”

I chuckle and lean my weight against the wall. “Oh. So, what are you wearing?”

“A dress and some sandals.”

“Which dress?”

“It’s green.”

“Hm. Do I know that one?”

“I doubt. It’s from my summer wardrobe, and I just unpacked it.”

“You think I’d like it? Can you describe it?”

A sigh then. “I’m about to go into the station, so I can’t really talk like this with you with so many people around.”

“Astrid,” I whine. “I just feel-”

“You feel the way you always do when you are on drugs. You’ll call me tomorrow and we’ll have this conversation again, I’m sure, but now is not the right time.”

“No, I need to tell you now-”

“That you love me. I know. I love you too.”

“You do?”

“Of course. Let me hang up now.”

“Okay, have fun with Elias.”

“I will. Be good.”

“I promise,” I say, but she’s already gone. I rest my head against the wall, then, and think about Astrid and the way she is, and the sort of complex torture it is to be with her. Her, someone so completely unromantic and sharp and blunt and then me, her polar opposite, and how we still actually love each other despite our differences, and even though it was hard at various times at the start of our relationship — a car drives by beeping its horn very loudly which is quite obnoxious, actually, and I wonder was he beeping at me, like, for a joke, or if there was some traffic situation I am not aware of — we overcame it together and actually learned how to make things work, which is probably the most adult thing I have ever done, if I really think about it.

I think I’ve left a pretty grotesque path of destruction in my wake in the past, in terms of girls and relationships especially, but being with Astrid now proves that I’m able to grow and learn and be a better person, and actually a proper man who acts in ways he could genuinely be proud of, and these are things I would be saying into Jonas’ face right now if he was unlucky enough to be standing here. He wouldn’t like it but he’d probably take it, waiting for his turn to say something long and rambling into my face, too, like, about hiking trails or the deep fried scorpions he saw at that market that we didn’t try because I insisted they were too disgusting for humans to ingest, but he regrets not tasting so he’ll probably go back and get one if they’re still there, even though he can’t remember exactly where the market was anymore because Bangkok is so big and everything is unfamiliar and completely at odds with what we are used to.

Someone rolls down the window of a taxi and takes a picture of me on a phone, which is one of the regular happenings I meant to tell Astrid about before I was overcome with my love for her and went off on that deranged tangent about her dress, and as I watch the taxi tearing away, I wonder if I already told her about all the people who take pictures of me during the blank spot that is our phone call an hour ago, and that today this random woman got me to hold her baby at a temple and took a picture of us together, like I was its dad, or uncle or something, and it was so weird that she trusted me to just hold him and, I don’t know, not run away revealing myself to be a kidnapper of babies, not that I would do that, but anyway, once I agreed to take that one shot like a dozen others came up to me and Jonas and forming a queue and asking for pictures, and it was this weird feeling that I was a celebrity against my will, like I got a taste of what that would feel like, and honestly it was torturous and I hated it so much and I genuinely think if I was famous I’d be one of those that killed themselves or went mad and bought a big castle to live in on my own, like Enya.

Jonas and I eventually fled the gathering crowds, and they took pictures of us doing that too, which was pretty hilarious, to be honest. I wonder if they will put them up on Facebook like, “and lastly, here are the tall men running from us!” Jonas has come out of the bar now, ready, I’m sure to share more regrets and lament about the deep fried scorpions, but his face is stricken, like, in such a way that I understand the topic is more important, and not about scorpions at all, but I’m so busy thinking that I don’t hear his first sentence when he says it to m-

“What? Sorry.”

“A girl. She wants me to go home with her.”

“Oh. Well, you should go if you like her.”

He lets out a shuddering exhalation, standing there in the middle of the dry patch beneath the awning, the knee length khaki shorts, the scabs on his legs. “I’ve never done that kind of thing before.”

“Had sex?”

“No, of course I have. I mean go home with a girl on a one-night stand kind of thing. None have ever asked me to do that.”

“Well, they usually don’t. She obviously fancies you. What are you out here talking to me for?”

“I thought you might have advice.”

“About one-night stands?”

He nods, and I feel a surge of sympathy toward him, this protective emotion that is likely a chemical affliction. The image of him running away from that poor woman without saying a word to come outside and strategise with me is adorable. The urge comes to hug him, but I resist it.  

“I’m flattered you think I know a lot about one-night stands, but it’s not like I’ve really done that kind of thing either. I’m a long-term relationship kind of person as a general rule.”

“I sense you know what you are doing more than I do. Even if it is many times with the same woman, you know? At least you know in some way how to–” he breaks off, and I nod, because yes, I know how to– but stand there deliberating over how I can explain to him that nothing about the sex I have with Astrid is normal or replicable in ordinary environments. Not the kind you have with a girl you just met in the bar. Imagine that, like, “yeah, nice gaff. Here, just wondering, when we get into it d’you mind if I spit in your mouth?” 

“Ask her what she likes, and do that,” I tell him. “Worst thing you can do is guess.”

Nodding, he says. “Okay.”

“And just be nice. You’re a nice person. Try to, um, project that. Which one is she?”

He directs my attention through the window to the lively scene around the bar, and points out a short brunette in a pair of denim shorts. A non-intimidating presence, a pleasant face. I would probably sleep with her too, not that it indicates something exceedingly wonderful or unique about her, because I would sleep with most women under the right circumstances. 

I miss Astrid. I hope she takes a photograph of her green dress and sends it to me, as she sometimes does. “OOTD” she’ll type. As in, “outfit of the day”, and attach a picture of her in a mirror, or the reflection of the U-Bahn door, standing with her knees turned inward in such a way that makes the gap between her thighs appear large. Allegedly a desirable feature. 

Maybe later, when I’m alone in the hostel and Jonas is off gently making love to this brunette somewhere, I will succumb to my worst and most desperate version and send Astrid about four messages one after another begging for more pictures, minus clothes this time, and she’ll say no, because it’s still too civilised an hour in Berlin to send nudes to her boyfriend, coked up and wired sleepless for the fourth night in a row in a Thai hostel bed. 

Jonas enters the window scene. Under the warm lights, he speaks to her. There is nodding, smiling, shy laughter. She puts her drink onto a table and slings her bag over her shoulder. And I feel like I am watching someone collect a person they barely know at the airport. 

The door swings open and noise from within spills onto the streets as they emerge together. Jonas’ hand hovering near her, unsure of whether he should touch her, and then for one moment we meet eyes, and nod, and then he huddles under her umbrella, disappearing into the night. 

It only strikes me afterwards that I should have asked him where they were going, in case the girl, whose name I didn’t even ask for, turns out to be some sort of deranged killer. Jen would be aghast at my carelessness, but anyway. He’ll come back in some shape or form. Good for him, really.

Pummelled by rain, the walk home is a slog. My hair, far too long now, shaggy well past the collar of my shirt, sticks to my face and sends rivulets down my cheeks. There is so much water I am constantly blinking it away. Somewhere, in the seedy part of town with the boarded up businesses, red light pours from a doorway. A woman calls to me, knowing by the look of me I speak English. 

“Hello, baby, you’re all wet,” she says. “Come inside. I can make you happy.”

I’m happy already, actually. A deeply, sincerely happy man. I round a corner and get sick onto a pile of loose rubbish, watching the semi-digested remnants of my noodle dinner rinse away in a stream of rainwater. 

I am soaked to the skin, my socks wet inside my shoes, my t-shirt stuck to my body and heavy with the bulk of the rain. This is rain, I think madly. Real rain. Back in Ireland, it was never like this. It pissed rain, or you’d get that little misty spit, pretending to be rain but refusing to commit. No, this is catharsis. It’s what the Irish weather wishes it had the stones to be. 

As I check my phone, no messages. The clock has turned over to tomorrow. June the twenty-first. Midsummer’s day. God, I think, sloshing indiscriminately through a wide, ankle deep puddle. This day last year it rained, too. That day on the beach, when the heavens opened and unleashed a mighty torrent over the coast. Pock marks in the sand. It drove in sideways and washed the beach house windows with salty water that left residue for the entire summer. That boy, the Jude lazing on the sofa watching it, in dry socks and those tracksuit shorts his mother loathed, barely feels like me anymore. I wonder what he’d think if he could see the future, exactly one year from then. Here, man. I’m in Asia. I turned out mostly fine. Life is a journey of discovery and I am… discovering myself.

And I think of her, then, too. That inevitable thought. It’s been nearly a year now since we’ve seen each other, and eight months since I stopped emailing. I forget her sometimes, but then alone on nights like this, she floats into my mind, drifting by on the surface of the sea. The blue of the sky, and her light brown hair floating hypnotically beneath the waves as she laughs, silvery and joyful with the seagulls' caw. A yearning grips me, a sort of gasping desperation to return to that place again, to the simplicity of CDs whirring in the stereo, murmuring together in the sunlight, the crunch of gravel beneath bicycle tyres and sand in the lines of our hands. 

That was it. The most romantic time of my life. Nothing complex, only the things I made that way in my head. It was the electricity of my leg touching hers, the intense, whole body sensation of just looking at her, turning to jelly when she looked back. The soft curves of her face in my hands, how just kissing her lit my blood on fire. Then, when kissing meant something to me. In Berlin, I did it just to do it. A thing I did with my lips, a preamble, but it was never a preamble with her. It was the apex. I would have died kissing her.

I shoulder through the hostel door and leave a puddle on the tiles. There is nobody to apologise to, and nothing dry to clean it with, so I leave it there and trudge upwards to the room, where the Nepalese backpackers are snoring in their bunks. They do it so loudly that sleep would be impossible even if I were capable. Luckily, it is not my priority. I strip my clothes off and lie in my bunk. I find my phone and type a message to Astrid. 

Outfit pics? 

A fruitless endeavour. She’s probably cracking into a crème brûlée with Elias and talking about something intelligent. I go back to my messages and scroll, scroll mindlessly, doing at least a decent job of pretending I am. I go back through the months, dozens of chats, friends, arrangements, happy birthday messages. Back to territory I have never revisited for dread of what I might encounter. Stop. 

Evie. 

One tap, and my thumb trembles.

17th August 2010  Yeah, so basically you just get the bus to Clontarf. I live on Vernon Ave so you can either get off near the shops or Seafield road.  Okay, sounds fine. I’ll probably leave soon.   Text me if you have any problems.  See you in a few hours. 

Weird. I thought we might have said something else, showcased more personality, or given more away about our feelings, but I have discovered an uninspiring chat, revealing nothing about us and who we were. Another tap then, on the text box, like adding a chapter to an unfinished novel.

Hey, do you still think about last summer? 

Paragraph. 

Because I do, to be honest. Been thinking about it tonight. How are you?

Tap. I send it, and my nose runs. I wipe it with my finger and it comes away dark, thick. The back of my throat tastes like iron now. I curse under my breath and sit up. Blood drips on the sheets and I quickly block my nostril with my thumb. It’s fine. This happens sometimes. I go to the bathroom and stuff a wad of toilet paper up my nose, pinching the bridge for a while until it slows. My face in the mirror is insane, my hair curly and half-dry, blood crusted around my nostril. I wet the toilet paper and clean it away, then flush it down the toilet, brilliant red, circling, circling, then gone. 

Back in the bunk, my phone glows. A red exclamation mark beside my last text. 

! Not Delivered

I stare at it. I hit the power button. Fuck it. For the best, I think, then roll over and try to sleep.

Beginning // Prev // Next

[littleblueberryartist]

REJOICE!!! BIRTHDAY UPON YE @lanternlightss

sdgdsf you can tell how long this took by how fast the speedpaint is going-

[littleblueberryartist]

S C R E A M S

LANTERN ILYYYYYYYYYYYYY

happy birth @littleblueberryartist :]

bonus’ under the cut:

[mononijikayu]

triassic love song — gojo satoru.

“They were together until the very end.” you said softly, your voice carried by the gentle wind. “I hope they’re still together, wherever they are.” The tall man took a deep breath, turning his head to look at you. For a moment, his blue gaze seemed distant, as though he were seeing something—or someone—far beyond the present. But then his lips curled into a small, sad smile.  “They will be, you know?” he replied quietly, his voice deep and filled with a quiet conviction. “Some loves are strong enough to last forever. They…they transcend, even time.”

GENRE: alternate universe - reincarnation au!;

WARNING/S: edo japan era, nsfw, angst, fluff, romance, hurt/comfort, engagement, hurt, physical touch, implied character death(s), natural disaster(s), mourning, pain, grief, happy ending, depiction of natural disaster(s), depiction of suffering, depiction of character death(s), depiction of violent destruction, depiction of grief, depiction of suffering, mention of implied character death(s), mention of death(s), mention of suffering, mention of destruction, mention of earthquake-related destruction, fiance! gojo, fiance! reader, reincarnated! gojo, reincarnated! reader;

WORD COUNT: 8.6k words

NOTE: this song has ruined me beyond understanding. paris paloma, your album was just insane like im sorry. the fact that she wrote a song about the triassic cuddle inspired me to write something similar and i just??? i can't help myself. ive been so crazy about this song that i just decided, you know what. this is great. this is just something i would in fact like to bawl my eyes out writing. and i did. i did that. and i hope you cry with me and enjoy it. anyway, i love you all so much <3

masterlist

if you want to, tip! <3

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IT WAS ENJOYABLE TO BE TOGETHER. IIt was forbidden to be together at this time, with the curfew in place, but you couldn’t help yourself. Not when it came to him. The world outside was still, bound by rules meant to keep order, but within the quiet sanctuary of your family estate, the constraints of the outside world seemed distant and unimportant. Inside, warmth and anticipation filled the air, thick as the lingering scent of incense that wafted through the halls. The soft glow of lanterns bathed the room in a warm light, casting shadows across the delicate shoji screens, and reflecting off the polished wooden beams and traditional tatami mats beneath you.

Gojo Satoru sat beside you, his presence magnetic as always, but tonight, something was different. His signature smirk still played at the corners of his lips, and his bright, sparkling eyes glimmered with mischief. But beneath that playfulness was an undeniable depth, a new layer of emotion that wasn’t there before—an unspoken excitement, a shared understanding that you were no longer just childhood friends.

You were now betrothed.

Bound by the ties of engagement that your noble families had arranged, it felt as though a long-awaited dream had finally come true. And though you had known each other all your lives, this new bond between you carried a weight of its own, something that made your heart race in a way you hadn’t expected. The happiness you felt was undeniable, shared in the way Satoru’s hand occasionally brushed against yours, in the subtle glances that said everything words couldn’t.

“You’re quieter than usual, don't you think?" Satoru remarked with a teasing lilt, his voice soft but carrying an undercurrent of something more serious. He leaned in slightly, his gaze locking onto yours, as if daring you to speak first.

You smiled, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks under his intense scrutiny. “I could say the same about you, hm?” you replied, trying to match his teasing tone, though your voice betrayed the flurry of emotions swirling within you.

Satoru chuckled softly, leaning back on his hands, eyes never leaving yours. “Well, it’s not every day you get engaged to your best friend!” he said, his tone light, but his expression softened as his usual bravado gave way to sincerity.

That sincerity took your breath away, and for a moment, the reality of the moment hit you fully. You weren’t just sneaking out to spend time with him as you had countless times before. This was different. This was a promise, one sealed by the love you’d always shared but never fully acknowledged until now.

“I’ve been waiting for this, you know?” you admitted quietly, your eyes meeting his. “For us to be more than just... childhood friends.”

Satoru’s playful demeanor softened even more, a rare seriousness taking over his expression as he reached out to take your hand in his. His fingers were warm, and the simple gesture sent a shiver down your spine.

“Me too.” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “For a long time.”

For a few moments, neither of you spoke. The world outside was still and silent, but inside this room, the air seemed alive with the energy between you. The gravity of the situation settled in—this wasn’t just a fleeting moment. It was the beginning of something much bigger, something that both excited and terrified you.

“You always did like breaking the rules.” you teased lightly, trying to ease the tension, though your heart pounded in your chest. “Staying out past curfew, sneaking into my room like this...”

Satoru grinned, his usual confidence returning. “I wouldn’t be me if I didn’t, right?” he quipped, though the softness in his gaze lingered. “Besides, how could I stay away from you tonight? Our first night as an engaged couple... I had to be here.”

You laughed, but it was a soft, breathless sound, the kind that came when words failed to fully capture the emotions coursing through you. “I’m glad you’re here, Satoru.” you whispered.

He smiled, that warm, heart-melting smile that was reserved just for you, and for a moment, it felt like nothing else in the world mattered. Not the rules, not the expectations placed on you by your families, not even the looming responsibilities of your engagement. It was just you and him, sharing a quiet, intimate moment that you knew you would cherish forever.

“I brought something for you.” Satoru said after a brief pause, reaching into his sleeve and pulling out a small bundle of paper. “I wrote these for you.”

You blinked in surprise, watching as he carefully unfolded the papers. “Poems?”

He nodded, the tiniest hint of embarrassment coloring his cheeks, something you rarely saw from him. “Yeah, don’t laugh!” he added quickly, though the look in his eyes told you he trusted you completely. “I’ve been working on them for a while...”

You took the papers from him, your fingers brushing his as you did. The sheets were neatly folded, each one carefully written in his distinct handwriting. It touched you deeply to know that he had taken the time to craft these for you, that he had poured his heart into something so personal. Something for you, with all his love.

You looked up at him, your heart swelling with affection. “I could never laugh, my dearest.” you said softly, your voice sincere. “Thank you, Satoru.”

"I made these for you, my beloved." he whispered, pulling out one of the carefully folded parchment from your grasp and unfolded it. "Listen to me, alright?"

His slender fingers traced the delicate paper before he began to read softly, his voice like a gentle breeze:

"Beneath the cherry bloom, I wait  

for you, a light that never fades.  

In silence, your name takes root in my soul—  

a promise written long before time."

His tender words wove into your heart, each syllable filled with the love he had always held for you, now finally given shape. You leaned against him, feeling the warmth of his body seep into yours, comforted by the sound of his heartbeat that matched your own excitement. The future felt certain, and the night was perfect. You kept listening to his voice, letting it guide you into the tender slumber of the night.

Satoru leaned closer to you, watching your expression, his bright blue eyes filled with a mix of anticipation and affection. Your orbs gazed at the tender strokes of his writing.

His calligraphy had always been so beautiful, but to form such words in order to capture not just the feelings he had for you, it was even more beautiful. And to have him read it with such affection, such love — for you and only you…..what could be more beautiful? What could be more perfect, more delightful?

But then, the ground beneath you shifted, a low rumble reverberating through the tatami mats. At first, it was subtle, almost imperceptible, but within seconds, the shaking intensified. It was subtle at first, a low rumble that made the lanterns flicker.

Satoru paused, his brow furrowing. Before you could ask, the ground shook violently, and the delicate house groaned under the pressure. Screams erupted from other rooms, echoing through the halls as the tremor grew stronger.

"Satoru?" you whispered, your heart suddenly pounding in your chest, not from love, but from fear.

He was already moving, his hand gripping yours tightly. “Stay with me, my beloved.” he commanded, his voice steady, though his eyes flashed with a seriousness you had never seen before. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

The room shuddered violently as the earthquake hit full force, and you could hear the distant crashing of objects falling in other parts of the house. Screams erupted outside even louder—voices of your family, the servants, all caught in the chaos of the sudden disaster. And then all the sudden, it was eerily quiet. And that made your heart drop to your stomach 

For a moment, you thought that it would finally be over. But then, the earth beneath you trembled once more. You squealed as Satoru let his body encompass your own with the enveloping of his whole body on yours as the world crashed against you both. The walls were swaying left and right, the roof tiles were shattering one after another. It was chaos.

"Hold on to me. Don’t lift your eyes." he said, his voice calm but firm, even as the world quaked around you. “I’ll protect you.”

You clung to him, your heart pounding in fear as the floor shifted beneath your feet. His grip was unyielding, pulling you closer until there was no space between your bodies, shielding you from falling debris as the shaking intensified.

“I’ve got you, my beloved.” he murmured into your hair, his voice steady despite the chaos around you. “D–don’t worry.”

You feared when he stuttered, that he had gotten hurt. But he did not falter. His fingers gently stroked your back, trying to calm your trembling as the earthquake raged on. You could hear the distant crashing of porcelain and wood, your ears ringing from the harsh sounds of the destruction. But in his arms, you felt an odd sense of safety amidst the destruction. Because it was your Satoru holding you, protecting you. Because you’re together. 

As the tremors finally subsided, Satoru’s grip on you loosened slightly, but he didn’t let go. His breath was shaky, and when you looked up at him, you saw a rare flicker of fear in his usually carefree eyes. He swallowed hard before giving you a small, reassuring smile. You were still stunned, your head shaking as you tried to make sense of the world.

"Seems like the earth itself wanted to remind us of its power." he joked softly, though the tension in his voice betrayed him. He was just as afraid, perhaps even pained by some injury he would never show you. “We’re….we’re alright, my beloved. Don’t worry.”

You let out a breathless laugh, still clutching his robes as you pressed your forehead against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. The night was no longer perfect, but in that moment, with Satoru holding you close, it felt like nothing could tear the two of you apart—not even the earth itself.

The earth, which had momentarily stilled, seemed to shift again beneath you, this time more violently.More catastrophic, more angry and volatile. You screamed as you held tightly to him, his body wrapping itself against you once more. The walls of your room groaned, beams creaking as the tremors returned with a vengeance, fiercer than before. The floor shook so hard you could barely keep your balance, even in Satoru's arms.

He pulled you even tighter against him, his breath hot against your ear as he whispered, “Stay with me. Don’t let go.”

You could feel his muscles tensing beneath his robes, his usually easy going demeanor replaced by something more protective, almost desperate as his entire body forced itself to become a shield against anything against you. What remained standing of your ancestral home rattled more easily around you, dust falling from the ceiling in thick clouds. Outside, the screams grew louder, more frantic as the destruction worsened. Perhaps, it wasn’t even your family any longer. Perhaps it was the town, perhaps it was a neighboring village. You do not know anymore. And that’s what frightened you even more.

You could hear the unmistakable crash of something heavy—perhaps a roof beam—collapsing nearby. Suddenly, a deafening crack split the air. The wide, elaborate shoji doors rattled on their frames before they were blown open by the force of the quake. Your own room felt like it was being torn apart piece by piece. One of the wooden beams above groaned under the strain and, without warning, splintered and fell, hurtling toward the two of you.

Your beloved Gojo Satoru reacted in an instant, pushing you down and covering you with his body just as the beam crashed into the floor where you’d been trying to stand. The air was thick with dust, and the scent of earth and shattered wood filled your lungs, choking you. You shook as your eyes slowly opened to see your fiance pinning you down with his body shielding you.

“Satoru!” you gasped, your hands gripping the front of his robe, desperate to make sure he was unharmed.

“I’m fine, my beloved.” he muttered, though you could hear the strain in his voice. His arm was still braced above you, shielding you from any further debris. His other hand cupped the back of your head, pressing you into the crook of his neck. “We need to move. The house isn’t going to hold.”

You nodded against him, heart pounding in terror. Everything felt surreal, like a nightmare you couldn’t wake from. The childhood home that had always felt so safe, so untouchable, was crumbling around you, and the only solid thing left was Satoru. He was all you had, you think. Everything…Everything was gone. Your body was shaking. 

He pulled you to your feet, guiding you toward the door, but just as you reached it, another powerful tremor sent the ground pitching beneath you. You fell forward, and Satoru caught you, his arms wrapping around your waist, holding you close as the floor buckled and cracked beneath your feet. You could feel the splintering wood beneath your sandals, the whole structure of the house breaking apart beneath the relentless force of the earthquake.

“Satoru, we need to get out—” you started, but your voice was drowned out by the sound of another beam collapsing behind you, followed by a sickening crash from outside the room.

“I know, I know.” he said, his voice tight with focus as he scanned the surroundings. "We’ll find a way out. I promise."

He led you toward the door again, but just as you stepped forward, the entire room seemed to tilt. The floor caved in with a horrific crack, and suddenly, you were falling. Satoru’s grip tightened as you both plummeted into darkness, the floorboards and debris collapsing into the space below.

“Are you hurt?” Satoru’s voice cut through the chaos, his hand cupping your face gently as he pulled you close, checking for injuries in the dim light. His fingers trembled slightly, betraying the fear he usually kept hidden so well.

“I’m okay,” you gasped, though your body felt battered and sore.

He exhaled in relief, his forehead pressing against yours for a moment, his breath shaky. “We need to get out of here. Stay close to me.”

Even now, with the world collapsing around you, his determination didn’t waver. He pulled you to your feet once more, and together, you began to make your way through the rubble. The house was a maze of fallen beams, shattered walls, and debris, the once-beautiful estate reduced to ruins in a matter of minutes.

The aftershocks still rumbled beneath your feet, making every step treacherous, but Satoru kept you steady, his arm around your waist, guiding you through the wreckage. The air was thick with dust, and the distant screams of those outside continued, filling you with dread for what might await you once you escaped.

As you neared what used to be the outer courtyard, the quake hit again, this time more violent than any before. The very ground seemed to split open beneath you, and with a loud, earth-shattering roar, the outer wall of the estate gave way. You barely had time to scream before the floor cracked beneath your feet, and you fell into darkness once more.

This time, Satoru’s grip on you tightened, and you felt his body pull you against him, sheltering you as the ground gave way entirely. You hit the ground hard, the pain radiating through your body, but before you could react, you felt the warmth of Satoru’s arms around you, shielding you from the worst of it.

“Don’t leave me.” he whispered, his voice trembling as he held you tighter than ever. “I won’t let anything take you from me—not this, not anything.”

In that moment, as the world continued to crumble around you, his words were the only thing that kept you grounded. No matter what happened next, as long as you were with him, there was still hope. You clung to him, your fingers digging into the fabric of his robes, as the tremors finally began to subside, leaving the two of you alone in the wreckage, but together.

You landed hard, the wind knocked out of you as your back hit the ground. The tatami beneath you was torn, and debris scattered everywhere, yet Satoru still held onto you, his arms wrapped tightly around your body, as though his grip alone could shield you from the crumbling world. The force of his embrace had absorbed much of the fall, but the impact still left you breathless. For a moment, everything was a blur—dust and darkness clouded your vision, and the deafening roar of collapsing beams filled the air.

Your body throbbed with pain, and panic surged in your chest, but even through the chaos, the warmth of Satoru’s body against yours anchored you. His presence, solid and unyielding, kept you grounded in the midst of the chaos.

"Satoru..." you gasped, your voice barely audible, but he heard you.

“I’m here,” he whispered fiercely, his voice steady despite the tremors still shaking the earth beneath you. His breath was ragged, but his grip on you didn’t falter. His white hair, now disheveled and covered in dust, clung to his forehead, but his eyes—those impossibly blue eyes—remained focused on you. “Are you hurt?”

You tried to shake your head, but your mind was still reeling, struggling to catch up with what had just happened. The earthquake raged on, though the initial violence of it had passed. The ground trembled beneath you like a sleeping beast disturbed from its rest.

Satoru shifted, pulling you up as carefully as he could. The house around you was nearly unrecognizable—wooden beams had collapsed, shoji screens were shredded, and parts of the roof had caved in. The once peaceful and warm room where you had shared your engagement was now in ruins, littered with broken objects and torn memories.

The sound of screams echoed from outside, faint but piercing. Servants. Family. It was hard to tell who, but the urgency in their voices cut through the haze of shock that clouded your mind. Your breath caught in your throat, panic gripping you once more.

“My family... my parents.” you muttered, scrambling to get up, but Satoru stopped you, his hand on your shoulder, firm yet gentle. “Satoru—”

"Wait," he said softly, though his voice carried the weight of authority. "We need to get out of here first. It’s not safe."

He tried to keep you calm, his steady hands guiding you through the debris, but you could see the tension in his posture. He was on high alert, his senses sharp as he glanced at every unstable beam, every shifting pile of rubble. He was scanning for danger, but more than that, he was trying to protect you from seeing the worst of it—the destruction, the death.

But as you stumbled through the wreckage of what had once been your home, you couldn’t avoid the horrors that surrounded you. Bodies. Littered through the halls, some crushed beneath fallen beams, others lying still in the open. Your breath hitched, and for a moment, the world spun around you.

"Satoru..." you whispered, your voice trembling as you pulled away from his protective hold. "Where are they? My parents... my siblings?"

He didn’t answer immediately, his eyes darting around, trying to keep you moving forward, away from the bodies, away from the worst of it. But you knew. The silence was louder than any scream. You could feel tears fall from your face and that broke his heart to see.

"Satoru!" you cried, your voice breaking as your legs buckled beneath you. "Where are they?"

He knelt beside you, his hands cupping your face as he gently forced you to look at him. His bright blue eyes were filled with an overwhelming sadness, but he tried to hide it, to be strong for you. He had to be strong. He had to. He can’t be weak, not right now.

“I don’t know,” he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. “But we have to go. We need to find shelter. I’ll take you to my family home. They’ll know what to do.”

You nodded, though the words didn’t fully sink in. Your body was moving on autopilot now, your mind numb to the world as Satoru pulled you back to your feet. With every step, the destruction around you became more apparent, more real. The walls were crumbling, the air thick with dust and smoke, and the scent of burning wood filled your nostrils.

Together, you navigated the ruins of your estate, stepping over debris and through the remains of lives that had been lost in the quake. GojoSatoru kept a firm grip on your hand, leading you with a determination that seemed almost impossible given the circumstances.

But even he couldn’t hide the way his shoulders tensed, the way his jaw clenched when another body appeared in your path, forcing him to shield you from the sight.

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IT WAS A CHALLENGE, TO GO AND LEAVE THE DESTRUCTION BEHIND. The sky deepened into a somber shade of dusk as you and Satoru finally reached the estate’s edge. The once proud gates, symbols of security and honor, now stood twisted and mangled, crumpled by the sheer force of nature’s wrath.

Beyond the gates, the town stretched out in a nightmare of ruin—buildings reduced to heaps of rubble, streets fractured and littered with debris, and the air thick with the lingering scent of smoke and dust. The cries of the wounded and the wails of those searching for lost loved ones echoed through the broken streets, a chorus of despair that filled the silence left in the wake of destruction.

“Keep your head high,” Satoru urged, his voice low but firm as he tightened his grip on your hand. “Don’t look. Just… don’t.”

But it was impossible not to look. How could you not see the devastation, shared by all? Every corner of the town had been touched by this catastrophe, and every person who remained alive carried the weight of loss. It was a destruction understood by all, but none more deeply than you at that moment.

The memory of your home—once filled with laughter, warmth, and the presence of family—now lay in ruins. Your parents, your siblings… their fates were unknown, swallowed by the chaos. You hadn’t seen them, and the hope of finding them alive was growing fainter with every passing moment. Satoru’s words rang hollow in your ears, even as you clung to his hand for strength.

He guided you through the crumbling streets with a fierce determination, always positioning himself between you and the worst of the wreckage. The buildings, once grand and vibrant, had become tombs of stone and wood, each step revealing more of the town’s shattered soul. Bodies lay strewn across the ground, some half-buried in rubble, others left untouched by the debris but claimed by the quake nonetheless. It was too much, too overwhelming.

Every time you stumbled, your legs trembling with fatigue and grief, Satoru was there, catching you before you could fall. His presence was like an anchor, keeping you steady amid the storm of devastation that swirled around you. His hand never left yours, his touch a silent promise that you weren’t alone in this. You didn’t have to face it all by yourself.

The survivors—those who had managed to escape the collapse of buildings or who had emerged from the wreckage—followed behind you, a somber procession of hollow eyes and ashen faces. Their steps were slow, heavy with the weight of shock. No words passed between them, no cries for help—only silence and the occasional sob as they moved like ghosts through the streets, trying to find some semblance of safety, of life, in this broken world.

Your heart ached for them, for their pain, but your own grief consumed you. The memory of your family’s voices, the warmth of your home, felt so distant now, like a dream you had just woken from. And yet, with each step you took beside Satoru, you realized that this nightmare was real, and there was no waking from it.

The earth beneath your feet still trembled occasionally, aftershocks reminding you that the worst might not yet be over. Each tremor sent a fresh wave of fear through your body, your grip tightening around Satoru’s hand. He responded in kind, his hand strong and reassuring, though you could sense the turmoil roiling beneath his calm exterior. His family, too, was somewhere in this mess. Their fate hung in the balance just as much as yours.

As you made your way through the gates, leaving behind the wreckage of your estate, you couldn’t help but glance back one final time. The place where you had grown up, where you had shared laughter, joy, and the news of your engagement just hours ago, was now unrecognizable. In the span of mere moments, everything you had known had been reduced to rubble, leaving behind only echoes of the life you had once cherished.

“Satoru…” your voice cracked as you spoke his name, the words barely audible over the distant cries. He stopped, turning to look at you, his eyes softening with concern.

“I know,” he whispered, his hand brushing against your cheek, wiping away the tears that had begun to fall unnoticed. “I know it’s hard. But we’ll make it through this. We have to.”

His resolve was unshakable, but you could see the grief hidden behind his determination. He was trying to be strong, not just for himself, but for you. His family’s estate lay ahead, yet you both feared what you would find when you arrived.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting the land in shadow, you continued onward, the fire of Satoru’s presence the only thing keeping you from sinking into despair. The path was treacherous, littered with fallen beams and shattered stone, but Satoru led the way with careful, deliberate steps. He kept you close, his arm around your waist now, guiding you over the broken streets as you navigated what felt like the remains of the world.

Every glance revealed more heartache—broken homes, toppled lanterns, and the pale, lifeless faces of those who hadn’t made it. But Satoru never let you linger, gently urging you forward each time your gaze began to drift toward the horror around you.

Finally, you reached his family’s estate. Or what remained of it. The grand structure that had once stood proud and formidable was now a heap of collapsed roofs and shattered walls. The once beautiful garden, where you had shared many moments of happiness, was now a twisted, chaotic mess of uprooted trees and scorched earth.

Satoru stood still for a moment, his eyes scanning the destruction with a silent, composed fury. The pain was etched into his expression, though he quickly masked it as he turned to you, his voice low but firm.

"We’ll make it through tonight," he said. "We have to survive, no matter what."

In that moment, even as the world crumbled around you, there was no fear in his eyes—only determination. For now, all you could do was follow him. Follow him through the darkness, trusting that somewhere, beyond the destruction, hope still lingered. 

As you finally reached the outskirts of the Gojo estate, the enormity of the destruction hit you again. The town below had not been spared either. Smoke rose in the distance, and the ground was littered with rubble, buildings half-collapsed, and people wandering aimlessly, searching for loved ones.

Satoru didn’t hesitate. He pulled you forward, his grip never loosening as he led you through the streets toward his family’s home. But when you arrived, the sight that greeted you was even more devastating.

His family estate, much like your own, had been reduced to little more than a broken shell. The grand gates had collapsed, and the once beautiful gardens were torn apart, now little more than mounds of earth and stone. The house itself had fared no better, with parts of the roof caved in and walls shattered.

Satoru’s face paled as he took it all in, his hand tightening around yours in a desperate attempt to remain calm. But you could see it in his eyes—the grief, the disbelief. This was his home. His family. And now, it is gone.

For a long moment, he stood still, his gaze fixed on the destruction before him. His breathing was shallow, his grip on your hand tightening almost painfully. But then, with a sharp breath, he pulled you closer, his arms wrapping around you protectively.

As you both began your journey toward the Gojo family estate, the weight of the day settled heavily on your shoulders. But Satoru’s hand never let go of yours, a silent promise that even in the face of unimaginable loss, you would survive this—together.

When you and Satoru finally reached the outskirts of his family estate, the sinking feeling in your chest returned with full force. What should have been a place of refuge, a sanctuary from the horrors you had just fled, was nothing but devastation. The Gojo estate, once majestic and proud, had fallen to the same fate as your home.

The gates were twisted and mangled, barely hanging from their hinges, and the walls that had once stood tall now lay in heaps of rubble. Smoke rose from what remained of the manor, a bitter scent of burning wood and stone hanging in the air. The destruction was so complete, so absolute, that it felt like the very earth had swallowed everything whole. The silence was deafening.

Gojo Satoru froze at the sight, his grip on your hand tightening until it almost hurt. You looked up at him, but his expression was unreadable, his usual brightness dulled to a vacant stare. His family, his home....everything he had known, everything he had grown up with. All was gone. Nothing was left but the earth where it all once stood.

You tried to say something, to offer words of comfort, but the lump in your throat made it impossible to speak. More tears could only pour out of your eyes from then on. All you could do was squeeze his hand, hoping he would feel your silent support. He didn't need to hear your words right now; he just needed to know you were there.

For a moment, he stood motionless, his blue eyes scanning the destruction as if trying to comprehend it, trying to find any sign of life among the wreckage. But there was nothing. Just like at your estate, the earthquake had consumed everything.

Finally, Satoru exhaled a shaky breath, his shoulders slumping ever so slightly. But even in his grief, he didn’t break. He couldn’t—not with you depending on him. He glanced down at you, his eyes softening with a kind of sadness you had never seen in him before. 

Satoru stopped for a moment, turning to you with a look of determination in his eyes. “We’ll make it through this,” he promised, his voice steady, though his eyes betrayed the fear he was trying so hard to hide. “We’ll get some place safe here, and I’ll make sure nothing ever hurts you again. You hear me?”

You nodded, though the world felt unsteady beneath you. The future that once seemed so bright, the engagement that had filled your heart with hope, now felt overshadowed by the tragedy that had befallen your lives. Still, with Satoru’s hand wrapped securely around yours, you knew one thing for certain—no matter what came next, you wouldn’t face it alone.

“We need to stay warm tonight.” he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. “It’s not safe to wander around in the dark. We’ll make a fire here, and then tomorrow, we’ll figure out what to do.”

He led you to a relatively clear patch of ground, away from the worst of the rubble. The sky was darkening, and the air had grown cold, a biting wind cutting through your torn clothes. Satoru quickly set to work, gathering what dry wood he could find, his movements steady and focused despite the grief that must have been tearing him apart inside.

You watched him in silence, too exhausted to help, too numb from everything that had happened. When the fire finally sparked to life, its warmth was a welcome reprieve from the cold that had settled deep into your bones. You sat beside him, huddled close to the flickering flames, the only source of light in the endless night.

Your Satoru didn’t speak for a long time. He simply stared into the fire, his expression distant, lost in thoughts you couldn’t fathom. His hands, usually so relaxed and playful, were tense, gripping his knees as if he were holding himself together by sheer force of will.

But then he turned to you, his gaze softening when he saw the exhaustion written on your face. Without a word, he pulled his outer robe from his shoulders and wrapped it around you, tucking it gently against your chin. He tried to do it, smiling like nothing happened. As though to comfort you even in all this suffering. And yet, you could see it all in his eyes. He was exhausted, he was in pain. And he didn’t know what to do.

“Sleep, my beloved.” he murmured, his voice low and soothing. “I’ll keep watch.”

You wanted to protest, to tell him that he needed rest just as much as you did, but your body betrayed you. The exhaustion, the grief, the sheer weight of everything you had been through—it was too much. You nodded weakly, laying your head against his shoulder as you curled into the warmth of the robe.

Satoru shifted slightly, easing you into a more comfortable position so you could lie down near the fire. His hand rested on your arm, a protective gesture that reminded you of his earlier promise. Even as the world fell apart around you, Satoru Gojo was still there, watching over you.

As you drifted off to sleep, lulled by the crackling of the fire and the steady rise and fall of his breathing, Satoru leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head. His lips lingered there for a moment, as if he were afraid to pull away, afraid that something might take you from him if he let go.

“I’ll keep you safe, my beloved.” he whispered against your hair, his voice trembling with the weight of his vow. “No matter what happens. I won’t let anything hurt you.”

The fire flickered, casting shadows across his face, but his resolve was unshakable. He couldn’t save everything—his home, his family—but he would save you. That much, he was certain of.

As you slept, Gojo Satoru remained awake, his eyes scanning the horizon, alert for any sign of danger. The devastation around him was complete, but his focus never wavered from you. You were his world now, the one thing he had left in the midst of the ruin.

The night stretched on, cold and unforgiving, but Satoru didn’t move from his spot by your side. Even as the grief gnawed at him, even as the weight of everything he had lost threatened to crush him, he stayed strong. For you. Because no matter what came next, no matter how uncertain the future had become, Gojo Satoru had made a promise—and he would keep it.

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THE YEAR 2018 WAS AN INTERESTING YEAR FOR DISCOVERIES. You remember reading about it in the newspaper on your way to university—the discovery of two lovers found in an eternal embrace, huddled together in a shoreline cave, their bodies preserved for three hundred years by the elements that had claimed their lives. 

The volcanic eruption, the earthquake, and the tsunami that had ravaged Japan centuries ago were some of the worst disasters the country had ever known, obliterating entire villages and swallowing countless lives in an instant. And yet, even in the face of such unimaginable destruction, these two had remained together, their bond undisturbed by the passage of time.

Standing quietly in front of the memorial, you felt the weight of their story settle around you. The air was still and somber, carrying with it the distant hum of waves crashing along the shore. The stone monument before you was simple yet profound—a silent marker of the love these two souls had shared, a love that had endured in the most unimaginable of circumstances. Their bodies had been found in the ruins of a household long buried by the mud and debris, a household much like the ones surrounding this coastline, now reduced to scattered memories.

You had followed the story from the beginning—the day the archaeologists uncovered them from the earth, the painstaking care they took in revealing the remains. The headlines had drawn attention, not because of the tragedy alone, but because of the story those two bodies told.

There were no names. No clues as to who they had been, what their lives had looked like before the disaster struck, or even how they had ended up in each other’s arms when the end came. But it didn’t matter. Their identities weren’t needed to understand the significance of what had been found. What mattered was that they had faced their final moments without fear. They had faced the end together, with love.

It was that thought—the resilience of love in the face of overwhelming disaster—that had touched you most deeply. In a world where so much is fragile and fleeting, the strength of their connection had remained, even after centuries had passed. It was as if their love had transcended the destruction, as if they had chosen to defy the disaster by holding on to one another in their last breath.

You stepped forward, placing your hands together in silent prayer. You wished them peace, a kind of peace that transcended the tragedy of their death, that honored the love they had shared.

You prayed that their spirits had found rest, and that wherever they were now, they were still together, watching over the place where they had once stood. The offering you placed at the memorial was simple, a bouquet of white chrysanthemums, symbolizing purity and remembrance.

"I pray that you'll always be together, the two of you." you murmured, your voice soft, barely louder than the breeze that rustled through the trees around the monument. "Wherever you are, I hope you’ve found peace, and that your love is still as strong as it was in those last moments."

You stayed there for a while, the silence of the memorial surrounding you, offering its quiet comfort. The sun hung low in the sky, casting a warm glow over the scene, a contrast to the deep sense of loss the place carried. But you didn’t feel sadness. Instead, there was something almost beautiful about it—knowing that even in the face of disaster, these two had been together, and their love had transcended time. As you prepared to leave, footsteps approached from behind. You turned slightly, curious to see who else had come to visit this quiet, forgotten place.

A man with striking white hair and bright blue eyes under the rim of his glasses stood at the edge of the memorial, his head bowed in silent prayer. He was tall, his presence commanding even though he moved with a quiet grace. His features were sharp, but softened by a kind of deep, unspoken sorrow. He knelt down beside the monument, laying a single white flower on the stone, his fingers brushing the surface with reverence.

You watched him for a moment, feeling an inexplicable sense of familiarity, though you couldn’t quite place it. The way he stood there—tall and composed, with an air of quiet reverence that just seemed to draw you in.

There was something almost ethereal about him, as if he was intrinsically linked to the story of the lovers you had come to honor. The connection felt deeper than mere coincidence, as though his presence was a significant part of the narrative that had touched you so profoundly.

His white hair glowed softly in the fading light, and his posture was relaxed yet dignified, embodying a calmness that contrasted sharply with the turmoil you had felt as you reflected on the lovers’ fate.

His eyes were closed in prayer, his face serene, as if he was offering a deeply personal tribute to the souls who had been found together in their final moments. The sense of connection was so strong that you could almost feel it emanating from him, a silent bridge spanning the centuries between his presence and the lovers' tragic end.

You hesitated, not wanting to intrude on his moment of solitude. Yet, there was something compelling about the situation—an unspoken invitation to acknowledge the shared significance of this place and the story that bound them all together. Your curiosity and empathy drove you to speak, despite the quietude that hung between you.

“Excuse me.” you began softly, breaking the stillness of the memorial. Your voice was gentle, barely a whisper against the backdrop of the crashing waves. “I couldn’t help but notice… There's something about you that feels so familiar, so connected to this place. I… I’ve been deeply moved by the story of the lovers found here, and I can’t shake the feeling that you share a connection with them.”

The man turned toward you, his eyes meeting yours with a mixture of surprise and understanding. He seemed to consider your words for a moment, his expression thoughtful and measured. There was a softness in his gaze, as if he had been waiting for this moment, this conversation, even if he didn’t quite know why.

“Oh.” Gojo Satoru whispered back, his cheeks tinged with a flush of surprise, as if your words had caught him off guard. He seemed momentarily at a loss, his usual confidence replaced with a bashful vulnerability. “Yeah, I… I saw the news, and I thought, I just had to come. It felt… it just felt right, you know? To come here and see them off, to wish them well.”

There was a sincerity in his voice, a raw honesty that struck a chord. You could see that this wasn’t just a casual visit for him; it was something deeply personal, a moment of reflection and respect that went beyond mere curiosity.

“I see…” you mumbled, your gaze softening as you looked at him. A smile slowly spread across your face, touched by his heartfelt gesture. “That’s kind of you to do.”

Gojo Satoru shook his head slightly, a rueful smile on his lips. “Ah, not… not really,” he said with a sigh, rubbing the back of his head awkwardly. “If anything, I think you were more kind. You brought them white chrysanthemums and everything. You probably had more of a proper prayer for them than I did.”

You waved off his comment with a small laugh, the sound light and airy in the quiet of the memorial. “Oh, not at all. I think… I think your intention was purer than mine. You came here just on a feeling, an instinct that something was right about being here. I was… I was interested historically before I was here emotionally, you know?”

His eyes met yours, a flicker of understanding passing between you. “I guess we both had our reasons,” he said softly. “But in the end, it’s the connection that matters. Whether we came here out of personal feelings or historical interest, it’s our respect and acknowledgement that count.”

You nodded, feeling a shared sense of purpose in your conversation. There was something profoundly meaningful about how your paths had crossed at this place, driven by a mutual respect for the story of the lovers and a desire to honor their memory. The distinction between your reasons for being here seemed to dissolve in the face of a greater truth—that both of you were here because of a deep-seated respect and a wish to pay tribute to the enduring power of love.

“So……” Gojo continued, a slight smile returning to his lips, “I’m glad we met here. It feels like the right place for this kind of encounter, don’t you think?”

You agreed, feeling a warmth in his words. “Yes, it does. It’s like the universe brought us together in this moment to remind us of something important.”

He nodded, his expression thoughtful. “Yeah, something like that. It’s nice to know that even after so much time, and despite all the changes and challenges we face, there are still moments that can bring people together in such a profound way.”

You stood together in silence for a moment, the weight of your shared understanding settling around you. The memorial continued to stand as homage to the lovers’ eternal bond, and in that quiet, sacred space, you felt a connection that transcended all the limits given by the bountiful universe.

“They were together until the very end.” you said softly, your voice carried by the gentle wind. “I hope they’re still together, wherever they are.”

The tall man took a deep breath, turning his head to look at you. For a moment, his blue gaze seemed distant, as though he were seeing something—or someone—far beyond the present. But then his lips curled into a small, sad smile. 

“They will be, you know?” he replied quietly, his voice deep and filled with a quiet conviction. “Some loves are strong enough to last forever. They…they transcend, even time.”

There was something in his tone, a weight to his words, that made you wonder if he was speaking from experience. You gave him a respectful nod, choosing not to pry into the emotions that seemed to flicker beneath his calm exterior.

The two of you stood there in silence for a while longer, both paying your respects to the nameless lovers who had defied death with their love. The sun continued to dip lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the memorial. Finally, the man rose to his feet, brushing the dust from his clothes before turning to you.

“Take care, stranger.” he said softly, his voice carrying a warmth that contrasted with the sorrow that had lingered moments before. Then, with one last look at the monument, he began to walk away, his white hair catching the fading light like a beacon.

As you watched him go, something tugged at your heart. You didn’t know who he was, but in that moment, you felt as though you had shared something important with him—an unspoken understanding of love and loss, of holding on to someone even when the world falls apart around you. 

Somehow, there was something stirring within you—a feeling that you couldn’t let him just walk away, not without knowing more. There was something about him, an invisible thread connecting you, as if fate had brought you both to this quiet place for a reason.

"Wait! Hey, mister!" you called out softly, taking a few steps toward him. The man paused, turning back to face you, his expression curious but calm.

You hesitated for a moment, unsure of what to say. But then, with a gentle smile, you extended your hand. "I didn’t get the chance to introduce myself. My name is……"

He looked at you for a moment, as if weighing whether to reciprocate. Then, with a small, almost teasing smile, he took your hand in his. His grip was warm, steady, and comforting in a way that felt strangely familiar.

"I'm Gojo Satoru." he said, his voice smooth, yet laced with something deeper, as if his name carried a history he didn’t fully reveal.

The name hung in the air between you, and for a brief moment, you felt a flicker of recognition. But it was fleeting, gone as quickly as it had come. You smiled politely, though something about the way he said it, the way his gaze softened as he looked at you, made you feel like there was more to his introduction than simple formality.

"It's nice to meet you, Satoru." you replied, feeling a strange sense of ease as you spoke his name. There was something about the way it rolled off your tongue, as if you'd said it a thousand times before.

He tilted his head slightly, his sharp, crystal-blue eyes studying you with an intensity that was both disarming and oddly reassuring. It was as if he could see beneath the surface, understanding more than what was immediately apparent. Yet, instead of feeling exposed, you felt a sense of comfort, a silent acknowledgment that he grasped the depths of your emotions and thoughts.

With a gentle, almost shy smile, Gojo Satoru reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, extending it toward you. “Put your number in,” he said, his voice tender and inviting. “I think… I think you know more about this story than I do. I’d like to know more, if you’re willing to share.”

You blinked, momentarily taken aback by the request, but the sincerity in his voice and the warmth of his smile compelled you to act. With a nod, you took his phone from him and began to enter your contact information, a small flutter of excitement rising in your chest. There was something intriguing about the prospect of continuing this conversation, of sharing more about the story that had brought you both here.

When you handed his phone back to him, a playful grin appeared on your face. “It’s your turn,” you said, taking out your own phone and extending it toward him.

Gojo Satoru chuckled softly, his eyes lighting up with amusement as he looked at your phone. “Well, alright.” he said, taking it with a mock sigh of resignation. “If you insist.”

As he entered his number into your phone, the atmosphere between you shifted from one of solemn reflection to one of friendly connection. The small act of exchanging numbers felt like a bridge, linking your shared experience at the memorial with the potential for future conversations and deeper understanding. Maybe, just maybe — you’ll understand life the way these two in front of you did. Just maybe.

When he handed your phone back to you, he looked at you with a genuine smile. “Thanks for sharing this moment with me. It’s been… meaningful. I’m glad we crossed paths today.”

You smiled back, feeling a warmth in your chest that came from more than just the shared experience. “I’m glad too. It’s not every day you meet someone who understands the significance of something like this so deeply.”

Finally, Satoru spoke again, his tone lightening slightly. "Well, I should be going. The train is leaving soon. But... It was nice meeting you." He paused, his eyes lingering on yours for a moment longer than necessary. "Maybe we’ll see each other again."

You smiled, feeling the same unspoken connection. "I’d like that."

With one last look at the memorial, Satoru turned and began to walk away, his white hair catching the fading light of the day. You watched him go, a strange sense of calm settling over you.

As you stood there, the weight of the lovers' story still fresh in your heart, you couldn’t shake the feeling that this wasn’t the last time you would see Gojo Satoru. Something told you that your paths would cross again, in ways you couldn’t yet predict.

And as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows over the memorial, you whispered one final prayer—not just for the nameless lovers, but for yourself, and perhaps for Satoru too.

"May we all find each other, in every lifetime."

[lightleak007]

~ The Legend of How You Disappeared ~

Storyline: Kokushibo thought that people with rare blood are the only ones who can make him feel the excitement of consuming them. But you—you are awakening his humanistic urge that is supposed to be long forgotten.

!! SMUT ALERT !!

!! READ AT YOUR OWN RISK !!

PS. Hi, reader! I'm making my tumblr debut with one of my favorite Demon Slayer Character x Reader stories that I made. Hope you enjoy reading~

During the Taisho period, it is part of the culture to be married at a young age. The age of sixteen is the appropriate age to have a husband through an arranged marriage. That’s why learning how to be a good wife is much more important than learning how to be intellectual.

You had prepared yourself for the day to be chosen as a bride, but your life wasn’t the same as everybody else—no one wanted you.

If only you were chosen and got married by the age of sixteen, you wouldn’t be seen as bad luck by your own family and everybody else in town.

As you live your life for two decades, you are seen as a disgrace, and everyone who knew you always looked at you with pity in their eyes. Even work does not come easy since everyone believes you’ll only attract misfortune to their business. It got you thinking that maybe life isn’t hard, it’s just you finding it hard to live because the people around you make it so.

It feels like you’re just breathing, but not living—you feel empty and unwanted. The only thing that gives you peace of mind is an evening walk, and you developed a habit of doing it every night without a miss.

Even with the rumors about a demon who hunts humans for food being the only talk in your town lately, it doesn’t stop you to take a late-night walk. More like, you don’t care if you encounter the demon and he puts an end to your life—or maybe the demon won’t even choose you to be their prey in the first place.

You scoffed at the thought of encountering a picky demon as you continue to walk towards the riverside. When you got to your usual spot, you put down your lantern on the grass before sitting beside it. The moon is unusually bright tonight and its light is reflecting on the calm water that is flowing in the river in front of you.

“Ah~ It feels a little chilly tonight,” you said to yourself as you felt the night breeze, and put on your haori that you brought with you. Nighttime is the only time you are free—from judgments and the pitiful stare of everyone you know. It feels nice to have solitude and the gentle flow of wind against you is adding to your relaxation.

The cold air of the night keeps brushing against your skin and as the wind blows, your scent is being flown with it—reaching the nostrils of the rumored demon in the area. He can feel his senses tingle upon smelling a human nearby.

Kokushibo moves swiftly to your location, his hunger beginning to rise within him. Just by your scent, he could tell you are a woman in her younger years, and the closer he gets to where you are… his sixth sense revealed much more.

Without you noticing him, Kokushibo stands a few feet away behind you. He couldn’t believe what he could see with his sixth sense, but he knows that his eyes are not lying to him.

Kokushibo can tell without a doubt that you are a virgin.

A thrill runs in his veins and an unfamiliar urge is igniting within him upon knowing this. Kokushibo thought that people with rare blood are the only ones who can make him feel the excitement of consuming them. But you—you are awakening his humanistic urge that is supposed to be long forgotten.

Being a demon, Kokushibo did not think that it was possible for him to feel any sexual urge, especially, toward a human. For demons, humans are nothing but food and power source. Yet when your scent penetrated his nostrils, a tingling sensation runs through under his skin, and his instincts told him to have you.

Kokushibo unsheaths his fleshy sword from his side. Thinking to himself that after he absorbs you, he'll be back to his usual self—being composed and reserved. In just one slash, he knew he could end your life and he won’t be bothered by his humanistic feelings anymore.

You only became aware of someone else’s presence behind you when you felt a sharp tip pressing at your back. A gasp left your lips and your mind wondered who could it be. Your heart races its beat as you slowly turn your head to see who it is.

A louder gasp escapes from you upon realizing that the person who pointed his sword at you, is in fact, a demon. You tilt your face away to see him, he has three pairs of eyes that can’t go unnoticed by someone. His face has flame markings on the left side of his forehead and on the right side of his chin. He stands tall in front of you and his spiky hair is tied in a ponytail behind his head. He’s wearing a purple kimono with beehive patterns on it and partnered it with black hakama pants that are tied with a white cloth belt on his waist. Somehow, you felt admiration for his majestic features.

“W-Who are you…?” You asked as he pointed his fleshy sword at your face this time. Well, you guess this is where your miserable life ends.

Even as a demon, he’s polite enough to answer your question. “Upper Moon Rank One of Twelve Kizuki,” he saw how your face looks puzzled at what he said, “Kokushibo.” He was a little surprised that you did not run away screaming.

As someone who’s tired of living, you don’t feel scared anymore of getting killed by him. It’s not your wish to spend your time growing old in a world that only gives unfairness to you.

“Don’t worry, I won’t run away,” you said as you get up on your feet, “You can do anything to me. I’ve been ready to throw my life away anyway, Kokushibo.” You flashed him a genuine smile—something you haven’t done in a long time.

Kokushibo’s eyebrows twitch, “Do…anything to her?” He thought as he felt the shivers that run through his body, and the smile that you gave him only made his heart fall. He pointed his sword to your chest and he watches as you anticipated the slash.

You waited with eyes-closed, heartbeat racing but there’s no regret creeping into your chest. Then, you felt the sword swing across your body and the breeze of the night penetrated your skin. Slowly, you opened one eye to see what happened—only to see Kokushibo sheathing his sword back to his side.

When the wind flew again, it felt too cold against your body. Realization slowly sank in you as shredded pieces of clothing swayed in front of your eyes. You look at your body and found yourself…naked.

“I have permission to do anything to you right now,” Kokushibo catches your waist and pulled your naked body closer to his. His face inching closer to your neck and his other hand already caressing one of your breasts.

“A-Aren’t you—hng!” The feeling of his lips kissing lavishly on your neck made you hold off your question. You weren’t aware that a demon like him could be a pervert and would do sexual advances on his prey—this wasn’t what you expected. His sharp nails grazing against your back made you elicit a shuddering breath and caused you to push your chest closer to him.

Kokushibo slathers his tongue from your shoulder blade to your neck and it reaches until the back of your ears. “Your taste is addicting….” He paused upon the realization that he doesn’t know your name.

“Tell me…” Kokushibo pulled your chin to tilt your head and made you look at him, “...your name, human.”

“_______,” you answered without hesitation as you hold onto his shoulders and felt your heart flutter at his compliment. Your naked body presses close to him and you can feel a hard tent poking on your thigh.

“_______,” Kokushibo repeated as if your name is something he won’t ever want to forget. His hands ran all over your body as his mouth started working on your neck again. Your scent and taste against Kokushibo’s senses are enough to make him moan. He ran his fangs on the veins of your neck and the urge to bite you is so strong but his sexual urge for you is stronger.

The feeling of Kokushibo’s lips against your skin is ticklish and sensual, both feelings are something you never had before from someone else. You felt your body being guided to lay down on the grass where your shredded clothes are. As soon as your back hits the ground, Kokushibo hovers on top of you and seizes your lips.

“Hmng!” The sudden kiss caught you off-guard, making it hard to respond as his tongue invades your mouth. You can only release puffs of air and let him eagerly suck on your tongue—the sensation is electrifying.

Kokushibo keeps himself busy as he savors your taste in your mouth, not really minding all the saliva he’s been slurping from you. It has been so long since he ever kissed someone and he’s well aware that not even with his wife from before time, had awakened a such desire he’s been feeling for you. He doesn’t want to stop and his tongue pushes deep into your mouth—nearly reaching your throat.

You almost choked and your eyes filled with tears as you find it hard to breathe. With all the strength that you have, you pushed him away and moaned, “Ko-Kokushibo…”

There’s a trickle of saliva on the side of his mouth as he pulled away and the way you moaned his name made him feel a throb in his aching length. Kokushibo wiped off your stained cheek with his cold hand as gently as he could. He’s feeling too much ache between his legs that his clothing is making him feel more uncomfortable.

You watch as Kokushibo undress between your legs, he has pale skin but a muscular body, and your eyes were interrupted from lowering down your gaze when he hoists your legs in his arms. The dripping of your arousal in between your legs is being reflected by the moonlight, and the embarrassment snaps in you as Kokushibo leans in closer to your wetness.

Kokushibo inhales deep your arousal scent—too inviting for him. He felt your hips squirming away in shyness but he had no problem firming his hold on your thighs. His hands spread your wetness open and his sharp nails dug into your inner thighs at the sight of your tight hole. Every breath that he takes is heavy as he keeps himself in control.

You started to feel more embarrassed and insecure as Kokushibo stay in a daze with your virgin hole. But, every puff of air from his mouth feels too hot against your wetness that it’s taking effect on you too. Your soft hand reaches for his hand that’s holding into your inner thigh, “What’s… wrong?”

“I want to taste what’s dripping from you here,” Kokushibo’s knuckles caresses your folds and gently prod your clit unconsciously.

Before you could answer, you felt his flat tongue lathering on your wetness back and forth. The tip of his tongue rubbed on your clit and licking on your slit—causing your legs to spread further apart. Your hands hold onto his head as Kokushibo let himself drown in your wetness, and your voice sounds high and lewd from the sensation.

Kokushibo’s mouth works with hunger and your arousal coating even his chin as he pushes his tongue inside you. He slurps loudly and sucked on the nub his mouth had found—causing your legs to tremble against his hold.

“Ahhh~!!” You cried out in pleasure as you tug on his hair, “Kokushibo~! Your tongue—haa~!!”

The way you pulled his hair is not having any effect on Kokushibo, it only made him groan against your clit, as his tongue penetrates your insides. He can feel the soft pleats of your insides squeezing around the wet muscle of his mouth.

The further his tongue reaches inside you, the closer you felt yourself convulsing. Your legs shake around his head and your body gave in to the newfound ecstasy. You came undone in his mouth and your insides wetter than ever.

Kokushibo gulped all the secretions left in his mouth and he stare down at your heavily breathing state. He presses his shaft on your abused clit and you flinch away in sensitiveness. He had to hold your hips still as he started penetrating your tight insides.

You whined at the sensation of getting stretched apart, he felt hard inside you, and it feels impossible to take all of him. The brush of his pulsating veins in your slick walls is making your eyes roll in the back of your head.

“I can’t— ‘s too much.”

Kokushibo pulled your body up on his lap, to help you sink on him as he was just halfway in, “Don’t run away from me, _______.”

You felt his hands on your ass and your body swiftly pushed down to his length. You let out a cry of his name and felt a searing pain as you fully take him inside you. Tears freely fell from your eyes as you feel the pain—his length feels too hard and your insides still adjusting from his wide girth.

"Please..." You can feel the sting in your eyes as tears continue to trickle down and stain your cheeks, "Stop... Please, stop."

Unbeknownst to both of you, spots of blood from your torn hymen are freely dripping from your joined bodies together and staining the ground.

"I can't.” Kokushibo started to thrust, “This can't be over now, _______."

You cried out louder and had to bite on his shoulder to distract yourself from the pain. Your teeth sink into his pale skin and your fingertips scratch his back, as Kokushibo keeps your body moving on top of him.

Kokushibo groaned internally as he felt you bit on his skin… and he almost prayed to a god just to keep the mark that you made. But, it wasn’t possible, his healing ability already made your bite vanish.

“Kokushibo,” you sniffled on the crook of his neck.

“It will feel better, _______,” Kokushibo kisses your shoulder blade and continue to gently guide your hips in moving. He couldn’t focus on feeling the pleasure as you cry, but he knew that he couldn’t stay still as your insides grip on his length too hard.

Your insides adjusted fully as he keeps thrusting, soon enough, the pain you were feeling was replaced by a ticklish yet sensual sensation. You can feel that it became easier to take him in as you move above him, and your voice lets out erotic moans.

Kokushibo has his six eyes closed as he lets you move on your own, the pleasure in his body is getting stronger and stronger. His hands squeeze on your soft ass and his sharp nails unconsciously left scratch marks on your skin, due to his eagerness. He’s letting out deep groans and sighs as he lets himself be consumed by the pleasure.

You felt like a knot is getting twisted inside you and the more you move, the tighter it gets. “Kokushibo~ Hnngh!”

Kokushibo caresses your face after hearing his name, your face distorts beautifully for him as the pleasure intoxicates you. He wrapped one arm around your waist and move his hips, taking the lead with speed. He can feel your nipples brushing against his face as he bounces you on top of him.

Your hold on his shoulders tightens and it’s hard to keep yourself steady. You couldn’t think straight as the pleasure gets in your head. You felt your body giving up as another wave of surprise orgasm surged throughout your body.

Kokushibo felt your insides squeeze around him repeatedly—forcing him to pull out. He felt your body falls on him and your ragged breathing is apparent. He took in a deep breath, he had almost reached his high, and he intended to pursue it.

You felt being flipped to your back and Kokushibo from behind is pushing his shaft inside you again. A loud whine escaped your lips as you feel being full again, and he felt bigger in the new position. Your legs already shaking as soon as he started to thrust.

“Kokushibo~!! Unghh!!” Your hands gripping the grass and making marks on the ground as you take in his pounding. This time, he felt forceful and relentless—as if chasing something.

Kokushibo’s mind got clouded by the pleasure that he’s spitting out a proposal near your ear in between his moans, “Let’s live together, ________.” He moaned deliciously again, “Live together with me.”

Without thinking about it, “Yes! Kokushibo, yes~!!”

Maybe it was the pleasure you’re feeling that took your sense of logic away, but you know you won’t regret the choice you made.

Kokushibo dragged his hips once more before unloading thick strings of his warm cum and it painted your narrow insides white. All of his kept seeds bursting out inside you and making you full—literally overwhelming your womb.

You can still feel Kokushibo pumping inside you and your body could only take in all that he gave. Eyes rolling at the back of your head, hands gripping the ground, and your voice sounding lewd can be heard from a far distance.

Kokushibo stared at your limp state, while his desire is barely satiated. He took you in his arms and brushed away the strands of your hair from your face, “Take my blood and I’ll keep you, _______.”

You obliged. Finally, you have found someone who wanted you.

Before sunrise, you and Kokushibo are off to spend the rest of your demon life together. Leaving your shredded clothes on the ground and pieces of evidence of you losing your virginity. The marks on the ground and the spots of blood from where you were last night were founded by a man who’s out to fish in the river.

Since then, a legend of how you disappeared arises in your town based on the traces that you left. People believed that you were eaten by a demon as it was your fate for being unmarriable.

The legend of your disappearance was told to many young girls through generations and they feared having the same fate as you.

[dephoraowo]

The Wen Remnants were Wei Wuxian's Family

Wei Wuxian had multiple families before. He had his parents, but they died. He had the Jiangs, but they weren't really his family to begin with. He was never treated like a family member in the household, and he never belonged in the family either.

I feel like the real family that he had in his first life were the Wen remnants.

“…Who cares about the broad and bustling highway?” He humphed. “I prefer to follow the single-plank bridge into the darkness… Into! The! …Into the darkness?”

When he sang out the word “darkness,” he suddenly noticed that it wasn’t dark at all. The black summit he always returned to was vastly different tonight.

The area around the few little huts had been swept clean; even the weeds had been pulled. Several round, vibrantly red lanterns hung in the nearby woods, dangling from branches. The lanterns were all handmade. While they were simple and crude, they emitted a warm light that illuminated the pitch-black forest.

The fifty-odd people would usually have finished their meals and holed up in their run-down shacks by now, with the lights extinguished. But tonight, they were all gathered in the most spacious hut. That hut, which consisted of a rooftop held up by eight wooden stakes, could accommodate everyone. The small structure next to it was the “kitchen,” so this had become the dining hall.

He saved them when they were slowly being killed. He did it because it was the right thing to do. And he was the only one who willingly laid down his life for them.

Life may be cruel for them, but they made the most of it with each other.

Wei Wuxian, finding the sight strange, walked over with Wen Yuan under his arm. “Why is everyone here today? Not heading off to bed? It’s so bright with all those lanterns.”

Wen Qing walked out of the kitchen, carrying a plate. “The lanterns were hung for your sake, oh elder one. Let’s make more tomorrow and hang them on the mountain path. It’s not easy to find your way around in the dark. You’ll trip and break a bone one of these days.”

“Come now, even if I break a bone, don’t we have you?” Wei Wuxian said.

“I certainly don’t want to do extra work. It’s not like I get paid for it,” Wen Qing shot back. “If you do break a limb, don’t blame me for bruising you when I set it.”

...

“What, you guys haven’t eaten yet?” Wei Wuxian asked. “Nah. We were waiting for you,” Wen Qing answered.

“Why are you waiting for me? I already ate,” Wei Wuxian said.

As soon as he spoke, he realized he’d made a mistake. Sure enough, Wen Qing slammed a plate onto the table, and the red chili peppers sprinkled over the vegetables bounced with the impact.

“No wonder you didn’t buy anything. You spent everything at a restaurant, didn’t you?” Wen Qing raged. “I’ve only got so much money, and I gave it all to you. Look at how carefree you are with your spending!”

“No! I didn’t…” Wei Wuxian tried explaining himself.

Look at Wen Qing and Wei Wuxian's cute little banter 😆. To me, they are the most iconic duo. The way he trusts Wen Qing to help him out with his injuries is so natural! I bet they were really close to each other. Maybe even as close as siblings!

The other cultivators busied themselves with setting out chopsticks and pouring tea, saving the head seat for Wei Wuxian. Seeing them like this made him feel uncomfortable about accepting the gesture.

Over the past few months, he had been fully aware that the Wens were somewhat afraid of him. These people had heard of his vicious name and his insane deeds during the Sunshot Campaign. They had heard the widespread rumors of the savage, evil ways he took his anger out on people. With their own eyes, they had seen him order corpses to murder the living. In the beginning, old Granny Wen’s legs would shudder nonstop whenever she saw him, and Wen Yuan would hide behind her. It was many days before he dared to slowly approach him.

Although he saved the Wen remnants, they were still terrified of him XD. Guess Wei Wuxian really made a name for himself during the war. But Wei Wuxian didn't hold it against them. He was still kind and gentle towards them, and after some time, they started to warm up to him, to see him as their own, as their family.

But now, those same fifty pairs of eyes were watching him. Although there was still some fear in their gazes, it was the sort of fear attached to respect and reverence. Their eyes also carried a trace of cautiousness, and some intent to ingratiate themselves. However, it was by and large the same gratitude and goodwill that shone in the eyes of the Wen siblings. “Thank you for everything you’ve done, all this time,” Wen Qing said quietly.

They appreciate what Wei Wuxian had done for them and decided to host a feast for him TwT.

“You…are suddenly being nice to me. I’m kind of scared?” Wei Wuxian said.

Wen Qing’s knuckles seemed to briefly crack, and Wei Wuxian immediately shut up. However, she continued her quiet speech.

LOL 🤣🤣🤣. Wen Qing just wants to keep the somber atmosphere and Wei Wuxian can't help but tease her.

“…They’ve always wanted to have a meal with you, and to thank you. But you’re always busy running around or locking yourself up in the Demon-Quelling Cave for days and telling everyone you’re not to be disturbed. They were afraid they would distract you from your work or bother you. They thought you didn’t like to mingle with people and that you didn’t want to talk to them, so they didn’t want to pester you with any attempts at conversation. When A-Ning woke up today, Si-shu said we had to make you sit down for a feast, no matter what… So just sit down, even if you stuffed yourself to bursting earlier today. It’s fine even if you don’t eat. Just sit and chat, have a drink, and that’ll be enough.”

Wei Wuxian was struck silent. Then his eyes lit up. “Drink? There’s booze up here?”

The elder Wens had been watching them nervously, but as soon as they heard him say that, one immediately responded.

“Yeah, yeah. There’s drink.” He passed Wei Wuxian several tightly sealed jugs that had been sitting on the table. “It’s fruit wine. Made from wild fruits picked on the mountain. It’s got some real body to it!”

“Si-shu also loves to drink,” Wen Ning said from where he was crouching by the table. “He knows how to make wine and made those specially for tonight’s dinner. He tried for many days.”

Because he now spoke so slowly, one word at a time, he did not stutter. Si-shu gave an abashed smile but continued to nervously stare at Wei Wuxian.

“Is that so?” Wei Wuxian said. “Then I gotta give it a try!”

He sat down at the table, and Si-shu immediately opened a sealed jug and passed it to him with both hands. Wei Wuxian sniffed it and smiled.

“It does have a pretty nice body!”

The others sat down along with him. After hearing his praise, smiles split their faces as if they had been greatly commended, and they dug in with their chopsticks.

🥹🥹🥹. Such a heartwarming family dinner. I wonder if this is Wei Wuxian's first time having such a dinner. He certainly didn't enjoy the meal whenever a certain Madame was around.

For the very first time, Wei Wuxian paid no attention to the wine’s flavor.

He thought to himself, Follow the path into the darkness…huh?

It wasn’t all that dark.

Suddenly, he felt refreshed and alive.

This act of kindness by the Wens might not seem much to us. But it meant so much to Wei Wuxian. It showed him that even though the road to righteousness is dark, there's always a tiny beam of light shining through. It showed him that there's always hope in the darkest times. And that this time, he's not alone in it anymore. He's got his new family, and that is what's most important.

[sketches4mysw33theart]

No Such Thing As Ghosts

Pairing: Henry Winter (The Secret History)

Summary: A secret meeting with Henry Winter in a graveyard at twilight. What can go wrong?

Warnings: None

Also would like to add - I know ventriloquism is spelt wrong in here. It's on purpose!

Other Henry Winter pieces: To Indeed Be A God, Omnia Redit Ad Pulverem

“Henry?” I whispered tentatively into the quiet, purple darkness. “Are you there?” 

I always felt the need to whisper when we met on nights like that. To this day, I don’t know why. The only people I could wake there were the dead.  

As I stepped through the foreboding arch, rising up like a gargoyle through the twilight, and into the graveyard, I heard the clicking of a light, the clapping of a book shutting, the rustle of a thick coat, the snapping of twigs. 

“I’m here,” he said, from the right. I turned to the sound of his voice in time to see him, dot of a lantern in hand, emerging from behind a grave sculpture he was rather fond of, a weathered marble depiction of a cherub whose nose had long since eroded. When we were last there, that same cherub had been on its side in the dirt. Despite his admiration for it, Henry had refused to put it back in its place.    

“I wasn’t sure you’d come. It’s supposed to snow tonight.” He looked tired, particularly in that incandescent light. This, however, was nothing new.  

“I know. We’ve managed snow before.” 

Henry and I had been secretly meeting for months, almost a year. Our clandestine trysts were well considered, in far-flung places that no one, not even Bunny Corcoran, would consider searching. Henry feared the scrutiny he and I would receive. I, after all, was majoring in medicine. It felt like a treachery to our separate kingdoms, I in medicine, he in Classics, that we were in love. A war on time. Romeo and Juliet, kept apart by the fog of the mountains and the turrets of Hampden College. But never by the snow, it seemed. 

It was a funny night, illuminated by a bright moon but encroached with shadows, the threat of the oncoming storm. Still, it was just light enough to see the outlines of the graves around us, the one mausoleum of the tiny town, the eerie statues looming before us, faces turned piously in every direction as though we had recruited them as lookouts. 

“Someone’s been here since August,” Henry said, coming to me finally and rubbing his gloved hands up my arms. I didn’t realise I'd crossed them over my chest. “The cherub’s back in place. You’re cold. Perhaps we should go to my car?”  

He must have felt my quivering bones, even beneath the thickest coat I owned. I shook my head. Despite it all, I liked meeting at the graveyard. It was quiet, far away from the familiar, and, in a terrifying way, beautiful. Almost all old things were beautiful to me then. Henry taught me that, through the strange photographs in his books and his detailed monologues. He had a gift of bringing history to life. 

“No, I’m fine. Have you seen anyone around?” 

He scoffed. “Of course not.” 

This was the main reason we met there so often. Who on Earth would hike through the woods at twilight to laugh among the tombstones? Well, we knew the answer to that. There had been the time we held a picnic in the height of summer, when fireflies had flew through from the nearby river and Henry had managed to catch one in his bare hand, the night we spent in the mausoleum to satisfy some maudlin craving of Henry’s, the evening we’d played hide and seek (somewhat begrudgingly, on one of our parts) among the gravestones. That had been the first time we'd claimed the graveyard as our own, mere days after Charles and Camilla had shown Henry through the place after hearing them speak about it.   

The graveyard had belonged to a town, struck by disaster and long since deserted. Besides a looming church pyre and a few piles of rubble, it was the only indication that a town had once stood there at all.  

“Here, sit down.” Of course, Henry had come prepared. Behind his grave of choice was spread out a meticulous picnic blanket, the host of his book, another thick blanket and matches and kerosene for the lamp. Gingerly, I arranged myself on the it, leaning partly on the gravestone for support. Once I was settled, Henry stretched out beside me, arm pressed against mine, hand resting on my leg.  

“I missed you,” I mumbled, reaching over to take that same hand. He settled his thick fingers between mine and afforded me a small smile, nosing softly at my cheek. “How’s the new boy?” 

Henry sighed, a warm exhalation that spread across my face. “Strange. I can’t read him very well. But he seems the silent type, so I don’t see why he won’t get along just fine. Charles and Camilla are particularly fond of him.” 

“You’re not?” 

“No. He's so... quiet, closed off. He walks around like a ghost.” 

I didn’t say anything. I’d seen Richard, the new addition to the Greek class, fairly often around campus, floating to his classes and slipping into the rowdy parties. Ghost was certainly the best way to describe him. But I’d never said two words to him, so who was I to judge? 

With that conversation abruptly dried up, I glanced around the cemetery that protected us from our lives, looking for snow. There was none yet, of course. Just gravestones, cool and still. 

“Do you think this place is haunted?” I asked, ghosts on my mind now. Henry laughed scornfully. 

“Of course not. There’s no such thing as ghosts.” 

“How do you know?” I asked accusingly, with a teasing smile. Henry rolled his eyes, shaking his head. 

“Because how could there be? There’s no conclusive evidence of a life after death, and there is certainly no conclusive evidence of spirits.” 

“Didn’t the Ancient Greeks have a God of ghosts?” 

“Oh yes, Melinoe. Also, the God of nightmares. Far too much of a coincidence, don’t you think?” 

 I stared at him, and he raised his eyebrows. “Come on, you don’t believe anything happens after death?” 

He was silent for a moment, considering my question. “I believe... that our souls linger. Not on Earth, that’s far too ridiculous. But... somewhere. Julian once said...” 

Before he could continue speaking, there was a creak out in the woods, echoing through the silence. Startled, we both whipped up to face the direction. A hunter stalking down its dinner? A bird flying past a bare tree? Or... 

“Did you hear that?” I said, springing to my feet, holding back a laugh. “That sounds like a ghost to me.” 

“Oh, for...” Henry’s head fell to his tented hand, but I could see the curve of his lips.  

“No, no, listen, Henry.” I was smiling as I held my hand to my ear and nudged his leg with my toe. There was another noise. A rustle in the forest. Closer.  

I looked down to him. “We’re not alone here.” 

Henry chuckled. “There is no such thing as ghosts!” 

“I don’t know, I think we could be about to capture your conclusive evidence.” 

Another noise. Even closer. Twigs snapping, leaves rustling, insects buzzing, wind blowing. 

“Really,” Henry huffed, shaking his head as he pushed himself to his feet. “How many times? There’s no such thing as...” 

Suddenly, another noise, a crash, like an elephant marching through the forest edge, and Henry fell silent, peering beyond the gravestone. “See?” I said, gleefully. “No such thing as ghosts, indeed.” 

Henry shushed me forcefully. “No, there is not.” Then, footsteps, not loud, necessarily, but obvious in the quiet that echoed between the gravestones. Very clearly human. It was only when I heard it getting closer that I realised my spectre, corporal or otherwise, could present a serious danger to us. Two college kids, out in a graveyard, in the dark. Good Lord.  

“So, who the hell is that?” Henry finished, darting eyes staring uselessly into the darkness. His gaze flew to the lantern, still lit on the blanket. 

But, before he could stoop to pick it up, there were more footsteps, the eerie sound of a mumbling voice getting closer, like a radio being turned up. Henry’s spine was stiff, assuring the stretch of his shoulders and each inch of his height was obvious. Then, a shout, “Is anyone there?” 

I knew that voice. It was familiar, terribly so, but I couldn’t place it. A glance at Henry told me he knew it too, but seemingly better than me. 

“Oh God.” He had gone white, all the colour sapped from his cheeks in the flutter of my eyelashes. Instantly, I was on edge. 

“What?” I whispered. “What is it?” 

His Adam’s apple bobbed listlessly as he swallowed. “It’s Bunny.” 

Oh God. I knew Bunny, alright. There weren’t many on campus who didn’t. Loud, ferreting, damn near insufferable Bunny, whose obnoxious voice seemed to reach as far as Fairfax and twisted mind ensured acquaintances either adored him or loathed him. From what I had experienced and seen, and the stories Henry had hesitantly told me, I fell into the latter.  

“Bunny?” I repeated incredulously. “What the hell is he doing here?” 

Henry shushed me forcefully. “Get down,” he whispered, “on the blanket, behind the cherub. Stay down, don’t move.” 

I followed his commands without delay, happy to be told what to do in the face of this unforeseen upheaval. My mind was frantic. Of all the people who had to happen upon us, it had to be him. Now curled up on the blanket, cradling my knees like a child, I looked up to Henry, his strong jaw set, calm hands cleaning his glasses on the tail-end of his shirt. As the footsteps came closer, through the archway, and the mumbling voice bounced off the gravestones in awe, he was tucking his ruffled shirt back neatly into his waistband.  

And then... 

“Henry,” Bunny honked, his voice carrying so harshly it made me wince. “Am I glad to see you, old boy, I just got so lost on one of my little walks. These damn Vermont nights, hm? Creepin’ up on me. What on Earth are you doing out here at this time of day? It’s supposed to snow tonight, you know.” 

“Yes, I heard, Bun. I was –“ 

“You wouldn’t be hiding someone back there, would ya?” He knew. I could tell, just from his voice. “’Cause, y’know, I couldda sworn I heard ya talkin’ to someone.” 

“No, not at all. I –“ 

Again, Bunny cut him off. “Naw, I know I heard you talking to someone. What you doin’, taking up ventriloqulism, or somethin’?” He laughed, the squawking of a flock of seagulls. “What you got behind there, hm? Is that where you’re hiding her?” 

Henry protested uselessly, trying to mollify Bunny before he could get too close. I watched him step forward, presumably to meet his friend before he could get to me, then saw the red of Bunny’s hair and the glint of his glasses as he tried to see beyond Henry’s broad frame.  

“You brought blankets, I see. And a lantern. And-“ I saw no point in avoiding it. Bunny was leaning so far around the grave, trying to poke his head around Henry’s large frame despite the latter’s protests and fidgeting, that he would see me one way or another. May as well save everyone’s blushes. 

This time, it was Bunny that got cut off, by my face, no doubt paled and terrified-looking, rising up over the other side of the grave. “Hi, Bunny,” I said meekly. 

“Well,” Bunny said, stopped in his tracks. I could see the surprise glinting behind his glasses, the few cogs turning slowly in his futile brain. Henry, his shoulders still braced but looking somewhat relieved, took the hand I reached out to him under the cover of the grave. “Well, well, well. I’ll be damned. Henry and his little doctor, is it? I must say, Henry, I never thought you’d get down with a pill pusher. Actually, now that I say it, it makes perfect sense.” He laughed again, but I looked at Henry without even a smile on my face. I saw, with little surprise, that Henry wasn’t sharing in our unexpected guest’s joy either. In fact, he looked angry. Startlingly so. 

“Go on then. Doctor, doctor, give me the news. What’s the story between you two?  Y’know, my father always says doctor’s are charlatans, a load of crooks.” 

“Actually, Bun, I don’t want to be a doctor.” Henry squeezed my hand tight as I finished this sentence.  A warning, I realised after, when it was too late. “I want to be a psychiatrist.” 

“Oh, a shrink, hm?” Bunny’s eyes glinted maliciously, illuminating like hell fire in the cast of Henry’s lantern. He gestured to Henry. “He your first patient? There’s rules and regulations, y’know, codes of conduct. No mouth to mouth at those appointments.” He laughed again.  

“Yes, very droll, Bunny,” Henry said disdainfully. “Do you need us to walk you back to Hampden?” His hint wasn’t even subtle, voice dripping with annoyance, but Bunny did not, or refused to, pick up on it. 

“Me? Oh, no, I’m fine, I know the way. But I want to hear about you two. Has he tried to-?” 

“Actually, Bun,” I jumped in, trying to think on my feet under his scrupulous gaze. “I don’t know if you’ll have time. I heard Marion was looking for you earlier. Something to do with Cloke Rayburn, and a tinfoil package?” 

Bunny’s face, which had twisted into an aloof, non-caring expression at the mention of his girlfriend, fell instantly as I finished speaking.  

He dithered for a moment, fisting the edge of his thick coat with one hand and scratching at his head with the other, mumbling vocal disfluencies, half-baked excuses and nonsensical reasons why he should or shouldn’t go. These fell out of his mouth in a torrent, almost unintelligible. I glanced at Henry, but he was only staring stonily at our unwanted visitor. 

“Perhaps you’d better go find out what she wants?” I pushed as gently and indifferently as I could. 

Bunny threw his hands up, a surrender to a decision finally made. “Doctor’s orders.” He laughed raucously, so shrilly it set me on edge. “Well, I’ll leave you two to your little love nest. I look forward to hearing all about this later, Henry.” It felt like a threat. From the look on Henry’s face, he took it like one. 

“See you folks later.” And with a wave of his hand and a blur of sandy hair, Bunny was gone like the apparition I’d initially thought he was. Immediately, Henry sighed out a long, deep breath. Relief. 

“Good God, I’m never going to hear the end of this now,” he said as he slid down the gravestone to rest on the blanket. “Of all the people who could’ve found us, it had to be him, didn’t it? Not Charles, not Francis, not even one of your friends... Bunny.”  

“C’mon, he’s your friend, Henry, he would-” Henry shot me a glare, quickly broken by a smile as I stopped talking. 

“Oh, he would do that to me. To us.” he said, sighing as he took my hand and coaxed me down beside him. “Well, I’d been meaning to introduce you to everyone, anyway. Camilla will adore you, I think.”  

A spark of anxiety flared at the bottom of my stomach, but I refused to let this show in front of Henry. The Greek class always walked through the college grounds like royalty, simultaneously above and below everyone around them, who were awestruck by their ethereal presence or disdainful of the timeless coldness of their manner.  

Still, I’d had the same misleading thoughts about Henry until I met him, when he spoke to me with an open air I had originally thought was beneath him. I knew meeting his classmates would have had to happen some day.  

“Look,” Henry said, startling me out of my worry. I glanced at him, still, stoic, carved like a great Greek statue, staring up into the dark shadows of the trees swaying in the breeze. “It’s snowing.” 

It was. Finally. Flakes as small and thin as dust were beginning to fall, catching in the sparse leaves and landing quietly on the headstones around us. The graveyard and the forest were completely silent once more, slowly sprinkling with snow.  

“Come on,” Henry said. “Stay with me tonight.” 

[r0-boat]

Possessive

Cat hybrid! Ingo x reader x Cat hybrid! Emmet

Cw: slight yandere, jealous, and possessive Behavior.

They owe you their lives for rescuing them. Ingo I'll never forget the day it was a cold snowy night him and his brother, who had been surviving outside for as long as they could remember seeking refuge in an old abandoned train tunnel. Emmet being stubborn, refusing his brother's torn coat no matter how cold he was. Him and his brother were tired cold and starving this town was unforgiving too wild hybrids and they were not cute kittens anymore and nobody was willing to bring home two strange men.

Thats when Emmet, trying desperately to huddle into his own clothing for warmth, noticed a bright light coming down the tunnel. As the bright light approached they noticed a figure, a human. Emmet hissed at the figure, all day they had been running from mean humans and other hybrids just to find a spot to sleep but Ingo did not want any trouble he understood his brothers frustration but responding hostility would only brew more hostility. The human had a green uniform and the light came from a lantern they were holding. They came to inspect the old railway tunnel as their boss was hoping to remodel and refurbish for future use. But they did not expect to find two hybrids cold and dirty looking glaring up at them. The one with a smile was growling at you, his tail fluffed and his ears flattened. The one who had a frown his voice scratchy husky as if he was suffering from a cold spoke quietly

"Please we do not want any trouble if we're trespassing; we'll leave immediately."

Your heart broken too technically they were trespassing but you couldn't just kick them out like this.

"Do you need help? Here come with me."

Ingo with speechless, unable to answer this was a random human who offered their help normally he wouldn't trust strangers but they are in no shape to decline help of any kind Emmet was confused. Surely this was some kind of joke? But seeing his brother take the humans offered hand, he was still wary, but he would have done the same.

Now, their lives have changed. Ingo smiles fondly, seeing his brother now practically begging for the human's attention.

Emmet hated you at first; he would stay respectful and cordial, but other than that, you'd always keep his distance. If he weren't with his brother, he'd be somewhere else. Now he's attached to you to the hip, insisting on following you around anywhere. And he can't blame him. You are as kind and gentle as your heart, taking in two strange hybrids, opening up your home to them and your heart. And their mind has saved their lives. They are indebted to you, and they'll happily do anything and be anything you desire.

Now they walk side by side with you, your scary "dog" privileges. You like they keep the creeps away, but sometimes…

"Ingo… I told you we were going to have a guest tonight. Why did you throw him back out?" You were sad and Confused. You brought home a date, and for some reason, you are normally polite and well-mannered. Hybrids started acting strangely, cold, and childish, squishing themselves in between you and your date. Literally and figuratively, as they squeeze themselves in between the two of you or cut into your conversations, anything to steal your attention until your date who has gotten fed up with their shenanigans and leaves your home.

"My dear, I don't know what it was about him, but he didn't feel right to me," Ingo said.

"What are you talking about? He was great, perfect even. Emmet ?" Looking over at his brother for his opinion Emmet who had a triumphant smile on his face, bluntly stated, "Good riddance, I'd say. He did not deserve you."

You sighed in frustration, resting your head in your hands. This was the third date they had chased off. It's not like going somewhere would stop them the last two times you tried; they were conveniently in the same place you were.

"Guys, please. If you don't stop chasing people the way I might actually get a partner. And not die alone."

Emmet wiped his head around, walking toward you, wrapping his arms around you from behind. "don't say that; you are not alone because you have us."

Ingo agrees, taking your hand in his, steel gray eyes staring into yours. " That's right, you already are a part of our 3-car train. You don't need anyone else."

[rel124c41]

GOT YOU (WHERE I WANT YOU) (AS HEARD IN THE MOVIE DISTURBING BEHAVIOR). jade leech

In Jade’s logical mind, there is only one concrete truth: You are getting bored of your boyfriend.

2/3

tags: no grim AU, established relationship, social criticism, piercings/tattoos, misunderstandings, hurt/comfort, punk!jade leech

word count: 9707

He does not see you for the next three days after the concert in Scarabia.

This is the longest you have been away. A full seventy-two hours. It is not good for Jade’s health. 

On the first day, it was an ordinary ordeal and Jade slept soundly, if not just bundling his sheets a bit tighter to his chest. On the second day, it was the equivalent to having a tiny splinter in his hand, something always pricking at the back of his subconscious. On the third day, he starts getting antsy — to the point where he seems to spend more time in class looking out windows than focusing on his cauldron or the lecture, to the point where he seems to have this ‘thing’ in his ribcage and under his palm’s fat that he must dig out, to the point where a sighing Azul lets him leave their little private Octavinelle meeting early so he can, “Go retrieve the tramp.”

Which is exactly Jade’s plan as he takes a brisk walk to his dormitory. It will be best to remove both his hat and scarf; he will gather his magic pen and that howlite stone. If you are locked inside Ramshackle again … he would rather not entertain such a notion.

When he conversed with Kalim Al-Asim yesterday, he should have had the foresight to press for more information about your whereabouts. 

Now, he is left grappling with piss-poor preparation. His mind is disorganized. He doubts that when he rushes into his dormitory that he will hang either scarf or hat, instead flinging them on the bed. Mental anarchy is an extending splinter, growing longer and longer. If everything is not perfectly straightened out – his books, his shoes, his bedsheets, his mind, his life – how can Jade Leech possibly go on?

As he briskly walks, he remembers the last visage he saw of you. Fires had been scuffed out to only a sparse few, magic-powered lanterns all dead, and the faintest hint of light burn like embers in your tried yet energized eyes. You are stretching out your neck, hand over your pulse point, as the bassist and guitarist click and secure their instruments in their cases. 

In his memory, you push down hard on the right side and jerk your chin, creating a loud kernel-pop. Sweat glistens on you like rain, even your eyeliner is smudged with the precipitation. Then, neck snapping again, you turn towards Jade who is making his way over the stage from the back. 

Eyes bright, you squint at him mirthfully and make your way over the edge of the stage. For an illustrious moment, he sees an image of the high, guiding northern star, so sharp that it will pierce him like a closed iron maiden, an old torture device that the Queen of Hearts used to punish rule-breakers. You break that illusion by saying. I’m sleeping over here (in Scarabia) tonight, boo.

Since then, it is like you have just vanished from the earth. No matter where he checks, you are not there. Pop Music Club does not have any set-up days to meet or scheduled activities; everyone simply conjures when they ‘feel like it’ and they head home when they’ve ‘enjoyed themselves thoroughly’, so it is fruitless to find you during club hours. You do not attend classes so there is no luck there either.

Jade likes unpredictability but this is just vexing. I’ll check Ramshackle first. After that, I will once more try Night Raven’s technician room. Or, the breakroom for staff members. Her proclivity to rest wherever pleases her is piquing (in both definitions). Jade reaches for his bedroom door and reaches for his hat with opposing hands at the same time.

His door usually sounds like a mouse squeaking, rather than a human strumming. Hat in hand, Jade raises an eyebrow in curiosity when he hears a man singing low on the right side of the room. In his nose, the spicy scent of the Scarabia dormitory flows. His skin prickles up like an agitated cat’s bristling tail.

The factors do not add up though, because it is you and you alone who perches on the edge of Jade’s bed, guitar nestled close and dearly to your chest like a lover.

Your eyes flicker up upon hearing the door opening. A metaphorical glass shard cuts Jade’s veins as you two stare at each other in mild surprise. Then, breaking eye contact first like always, you reach over to Jade’s desk and drink a mysterious liquid that is a sickly olive-orange shade. Excelling at potionology, he knows by color alone that it is a voice-swapping potion. It alters vocal cords to sound like the opposite gender with each sip.

You cough around the foul-tasting elixir and say with a larynx that is slowly morphing back to your own, “Hi baby. Mornin’~”

“It is 8 P.M.”

You grin slyly, eyes squinting like squeezed lemons, “Huh, I guess so~.”

Jade goes huff with a closed mouth smile. So it goes.

You two are used to each other’s presence like a birthmark. Jade frequented Ramshackle and you frequented Mostro Lounge. Though there had always been other presences, the malevolent wisps of screeching souls and the uproarious laughter of your fellow band members, you know each other intimately. Which is why, it takes little effort and time to get settled.

(He fails to notice that when he places his shoes down upon his stool for them that the white tips of the toes do not touch. They are crooked.)

Rearranging sheets of music, you make a place so Jade can sit. Stubborn cowlicks point up like horns from his teal hair when he takes off his hat, so he brushes them down with a hand. Taking his seat beside you, Jade watches you pen the remaining notes you were practicing on the stave, your body leaning close to read them.

Pajamas can wait. Calmed by the sight of you — here in my room and safe — Jade decides to soak in the moment. He watches the familiar elegance of your fingers, bending and hooking as you test the riffs you wrote down on your guitar. There is truly an innate dexterity in those nimble fingers, like you were born and breed for this. Despite acknowledging and making a spot for him, you seem pretty pulled in by your task, by the music. 

Your guitar pick (your lucky guitar pick, you would correct Jade upon hearing his inner monologue) oscillates between the strings. It is one of the three items that was transported with you from your old world upon arriving. Well, that wasn’t all you brought. Those three items being a pocket-sized Animal Farm book, guitar pick, and two-way messenger device, all under your ceremony robe pockets, along with the endless flow of new music from an alien universe. 

They say in the Coral Sea that: to breathe is to sing. One’s own voice should always be treasured as an irreplaceable power. Music is an irrevocable part of merfolk culture. It creates an atmosphere. For those to enjoy the sea, profess their love, or enjoy celebrations, everyone likes to sing whenever they get the chance. 

Jade rarely indulged. He kept himself out of the spotlight and adopted reticent mannerisms. Singing, as you have proven over and over, attracts attention, like a honeybee drawn to pollen’s scent.  

You are mumbling lyrics under your breath before you stop. Jade draws his gaze up from your fingers to observe your frustrated expression. Down goes your lucky pick onto the sheet. The guitar nestled to your chest is pushed down flat, chords on your knees. There is this prickling tenor that radiates off you, before you say aloud with defeat in each syllable:  

“I can’t do this anymore.”

And for a horrible moment, Jade truthfully does think that the this you are talking about is your relationship.

It would not be an irrational leap. Jade never makes those. With the way you have been so avoidant, disinterested in a majority of what he has to say, and always looking to escape conversations with him, it would make sense that you would want this relationship to cease if it is boring to you. Time has run out on the three month honeymoon. December is sneaking up right around the corner.

Just a handful of days ago, you sat on his bed for almost an hour without saying a single word or humming a single chord. It is uncanny for you to be silent for that long unless you are sleeping. Yet, you were fully awake, staring off into space, keeping all your complicated thoughts to yourself, as he worked at his desk with his terrariums and mushroom encyclopedias.  

Jade had almost expected it then. For you to turn on your side, hands and loose mechanic gloves sandwiched between the bony knobs of your knees, and say with a hardened expression of self-confidence, ‘Jade, let’s never see each other again.’ He does not know how he would deal with such a unique surprise.

So, he refuses to deal with such a notion, and instead asks, gently because you have started to grip the front of your hair harshly in mental anguish, “Can’t do what anymore?”

“I can’t keep trying to remember this song,” you sob out without any tears. Dry eyes glance at him. “I keep trying to remember the chords of this song from my favorite childhood movie! But, I never played it before so it’s like piecing together a puzzle without the picture on the box! I don’t know any of the chords! Ugh, why is this so hard!”

For a moment, his imaginative and grand mind goes blank. Jade doesn’t really know to think with such a burden shared to him. Both of you are in strife now. Your problems morph into his problems and that is the zenith of being in a relationship.

However, Jade is a master of cold, calculative plotting. He advises, “If you keep pursuing prey, it travels further and further away each time you reach out towards it. It is better in the long run to hunt lying in wait and catch it by surprise.”

You stare at him. “What?”

Spoke too soon, he realizes. In his vision, your meek form hugs your guitar and caresses your guitar pick like it is the only teether to the physical realm. The instrument that you can rely on — unlike him — while you both move upward in age. “I think it is more advantageous to wait instead of struggling towards it.”

“Then, why wouldn't you just say that,” you question, releasing your harsh grip on your guitar. “I don’t need that kind of –.” You pause, guilty. “Sorry. Sorry.”

“It’s quite alrig –.”

“No, it isn’t. I shouldn’t speak so –.”

“Nonsense. I can’t fathom how –.”

“I’m stressed but that’s no ex –.”

“(Name), truly, no need for –.”

“Jade, I want –.”

All your combined words dissolve into bubbling laughter. Because, you smile crookedly at Jade which makes him fight against a creeping, fond smile which makes you beam a toothy grin which has Jade chuckling softly in reverence of your easygoingness. It concludes with both of you laughing into each other's shoulders, exhausted from interrupting. It tickles when your lips brush his neck and that has Jade seeping deeper into laughter.

I missed you, Jade admits without verbalization. He plants a fat kiss on your cheek. Still rooted on that field of flesh, he breathes in a cavernous breath that moves the non-visible strands of hair on your face like blown grass. Your scent crawls in kitten footsteps into his nostrils. Soft. You smell soft.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t take this out on you. I went to rehearsal this afternoon and … ugh! I couldn’t get myself to remember a single chord progression and it’s like, c’mon, I should know this!”

“Not everything should fall onto you. You’re not the captain or boss after all,” Jade says, plucking the words another has used to describe your identity right out of your mind. 

“Doesn’t feel like that though. Not since — ugh! Bleh! Look at me talking about such depressing stuff! What a downer, amirite? Let’s talk about something different!”

And, in that innate way you have about you, you manage to steer the conversation to another realm or another universe with practiced ease. Animatedly, you string together stories from the three days you were gone. Hearing stories from you feels like living through them. Truly, your voice is one of your most preeminent aspects. You even continue on steady going as you two brush your teeth for the night. Your voice is addictive. Something that even pulls in the fickle attention of his twin — who comes into their dormitory just as Jade rests his chin on the top of your head and starts to drift off to that hypnotic voice.

The last thing he hears is “well, I wasn’t going to take that lying down. So when she went to the bathroom, I unscrewed the lid of her coffee cup and phew! Right into her drink!” and the next thing he hears is the sound of vomiting.

And what does Jade do? Well Jade – dreams he is swimming through a forest of underwater mushrooms that reach up to a nebulous sky, his body is a primitive eel with no hands or arms, simply snake, threading through ivory white stems of mushroom-tree as one opens up to reveal a pulsing eye – rubs his nose in his sleep.

Unbeknownst to him, he’s been asleep since 10:31 and has gotten a full two hours of sleep. He is positive nothing is amiss outside from his body. The blanket is warm and the sounds are growing louder.

Jade — sits under the spotlight coming from the mushroom-tree’s slit, that single pulsing eye glaring down with a skyscraper iris, before it closes itself like one discontent labia, his eel body squirming in desperation — wakes up, eyes shooting open, when he hears a horrid sound. He only has an elbow up as he watches you lean over and vomit into the wastebasket you are cradling. 

Floyd is by your side, ringlets of your hair squeezed in his hand. His twin wears a blank expression as he watches you (is this the first time you puked tonight or has it been more) puke, most likely, again. Their eyes met over the arch of your curling spine, backdropped by the sound of something heavy and wet hitting plastic. You gargle and burp up bile; it sounds painful. 

He has a hundred questions he wants to ask his twin, but instead, he seamlessly and silently takes your hair from Floyd’s grip. The action is very fluid like passing a baton in a race; Floyd lets go at the same time Jade grabs on.

Any strands that Floyd neglectfully missed, Jade scoops them up with a fingernail and leans his body over yours, alerting you in the heavy mist of incoherence that your trustful boyfriend has woken up and will take care of you. You simply twitch like someone shot. The pieces that Jade is gathering are wet at the tips and his heart fractures for you.

Sevens, what kind of boyfriend is he if he is inadequate in aiding you in times of need? He should have been awake as soon as you stirred.

You must have moved around a lot on your own too. You were curled next to the wall when falling asleep and now you are sitting on the edge of the bed. The wastebasket is also from the joint bathroom. All that noisy movement and Jade slept. He pushes down his own bile-ball of guilt as you resurface like someone coming up for air.

“I — I —.” You vomit so hard it sounds like something sloshed out of you, like you had just successfully puked your heart up and out.

“Shush, shush, it’s okay. You’re okay.” He repeats that mantra a few times around. It seems to work wonders. “I got you. I got you. I got you.” Finally, sixty seconds pass than a hundred-twenty more seconds; it is long enough where Jade feels comfortable to dig for the reason of this nightly strife. 

“Is it the nerves from your parents?”

You shake your head, no, refusing to look at him.

“The Dark Mirror?”

The same again.

“Ramshackle?”

You stiffen. A droplet of water peels off your eye like dew off a leaf. Jade believes he can hear it softly plop into the awaiting bile ocean below. He knows it is the most concrete answer he will get out of you. So, he says gently, not suggesting but telling, “A walk around campus would benefit me right now.”

“Yeah?” You murmur. Your haunted voice does not sound like your own; not due to a potion but rather your vocal cords twisting with fright. 

“Are you okay, Jade?” You play along well with his subtle, situational manipulation.

“No, I’m not. My mind is disorganized.”

You go huff with a closed lip smile. So it goes.

As Jade stands off to the side, watching diligently with his eyes glued to your form, you bundle up in a winter jacket and brush your teeth in their bathroom sink. Your toothbrush clinks in the cup with Floyd’s and Jade’s. A programmed, innate part of you reaches for the wastebasket to take care of your mess but Jade stifles it by pushing the object out of your reach. Sometimes, he loathes that you are so independent. 

You accept that with a look. What? Jade thinks, wanting to ask you what that look could possibly mean. He doesn’t. 

You accept his hand when he offers, interlocking. The heat is grounding. Both of you bid Floyd demure goodbyes, his twin raising a hand up from his bundle of covers in response. Then, you are off. 

No additional words are spoken. There is much to be said but neither of you dares to breach it. Steering, Jade guides you down the darkened hallways of Night Raven College. The shadow-blanketed portraits sleep and the shadow-curtained doors remain shut. Paces evenly matched, you share a walk. 

December air bites at Jade when he pushes open the double doors. That’s right. Today is December 1st; midnight has most certainly passed by now. He looks up at the night sky where it looks like someone has spilled oil and tried to scrub it up in certain places, only managing to reduce it to a dark, dark gray where all the clouds lie. He does not shiver.

Your grip tightens in his hand though, because some of the cold has invaded through your layers. A scarf. I should have been prepared with a scarf. My mind is untidy; how vexing. However, you give no complaint to the winter air. Perhaps it helps; you lick your lips in a way that makes Jade assume you are trying to sample a taste of the cold. 

Onward, you two continue. There are benches you two could sit upon and the fountain is also a nearby resting spot. Somewhere nice to sit and talk. It would be beneficial to discuss what happened tonight, and maybe beneficial for Jade to discuss how he is feeling recently. 

His face tightens. The image of gloved fingers savagely parting a clam’s glistening shell lips, crunching the hard body like a handful of saltine crackers, appears in his mind with the paramountcy of those mushroom-trees. Perhaps he will keep his mouth shut. Wouldn't it be selfish to talk about his worries? Yes. He latches onto that excuse. There is no reason to use his unique magic on himself.

However, before any of this can happen, you slip from Jade’s grip as he starts down the stairs. He feels the lost tingle up the arm of psilocybin and bulbophyllum phalaenopsis. He watches as you pull yourself onto that familiar brick wall, straightening up to your feet, and walking across the structure. 

There are skinny columns that make up the arches off the building. When you reach them, you grasp on and weave around them in a fashion that is fluid. Jade simply watches, walking around the border of the courtyard with you. It is just Jade, walking on the grass under your dancing feet, and you, shadowed.

A faint, raw-noise humming comes from the underbelly of your throat until you sing softly, “Heeeeey, what’s the point of this? Oh heeeey, what’s your favorite song; maybe we could hum along.” You weave past two columns, somber in the soft cadence. Your fingers look like little ghosts each time you release the thick, ebony metal.

“Well. I think you’re smart. You sweet thing.” Your eyes seem to look at someone Jade cannot see. “Tell me your name; I'm dying here!” You clench a hand to your chest, as you break through whispering-singing to real-singing. You throw your head back and sing coherently without any guitar or percussion, “Awooooouuuuuh! Got you where I want you … Again.”

Eccentric, Jade thinks fondly. Always interesting and unpredictable. He loves those factors about you as much as he is troubled by them. Why can’t things be linear?

After your musician outburst, you grow deathly quiet. Not even humming or murmuring the rest of the song, you continue weaving post by post as Jade follows, observing intently. He wants to crack open your head and dissect the yolk of your complicated, alien thoughts more than ever now. Too cowardly, he asks as you two come upon the first turn in the square formation of the brick wall, “How is your howlite ring fairing tonight?”

You glance down at the circular stone on your index finger. The mineral is white with gray lightning streaks, much like a marble countertop. “No cracks, I think.” You grab onto another post and slide your body around it. The stone glistens on your ghoulish finger. 

It is always wise to look out for a breakage among those jagged, flint-hued lines. Jade would hate to see it break again.

The breakage of your last howlite ring led to Jade confessing his love for you. The prologue though? It was a rather unfortunate turn of events. Though, he is not regretful of it in the slightest. He looks back upon the memory of your face – drenched in mascara-black tears, your hands clutching his shirt as they shook with horror, the pale lifelessness in your gaunt cheeks – with both worship and woe. 

Jade replays the words said just a few minutes ago: Ramshackle, A walk around campus would benefit me right now, Yeah? A Ramshackle nightmare is a volatile one but still mendable. 

Even though Ramshackle is littered with protective charms, it does not completely halt the activity of nightly ghouls. Lilia once suggested acquiring a dire-beast to tame them. But, dire-beasts are a rarity and even harder to train than ghouls. Thus, you worked with other means. Howlite minerals fashioned into jewelry works well for preventing possession, but under constant strain, they can break. No one could have guessed it would happen. Your radio silence was not unusual; your communication device is faulty and it is not entirely unusual for you to slip away for a day or two. 

It was merely awful luck that the last Saturday in September, in the morning while brushing your teeth, your howlite ring split down the middle and broke. After the weekend, on a Monday, Jade ventured into Ramshackle to find you with limbs contorted at inhuman angles, puke and piss on your clothes, eyes rolling in the back of your head until all he could see was glistening white like fresh snow, and on the verge of death. 

The thing about Jade is he is a bit of a worrier. Like ink chiseled into skin, it is ingrained in him. It comes packaged in his genetic alphabet, passed down from his mother and his father. 

It had not been good for his health to open up Ramshackle and find you in such a state. 

But, he made certain that the dead felt an even greater hit to their health. 

After evicting those three ghouls from your body, you spent a week out of Ramshackle and curled up tight in his bed. On Monday, it had been three days since your last bowel movement. The scene from then is still clear in his mind: 

Jade takes a peek through the mediocre crack of the bathroom door. There you are in all your glory, sitting on the toilet with gray sweats around your ankles. A wet compress is laid against your bowing neck and an apple juice box clenched in both hand and mouth. An empty, crunched apple juice rests in the wastebasket; you have been at this for five minutes or so.

With a far off look, you stare at the other end of the bathroom. Anxious, Jade surmises that you are perhaps not even comprehending the sight, too stricken with a fever that everything has blurred.

He has been checking up on your memory hourly. You know your name and you know his name. Yet, when he asks you where you are, you keep saying, almost insisting, your hometown. 

Those irises that seemed so straight and bright are lost now. The border of the lake has opened like broken beaver dams and the hue of your irises have slipped out into the white pool, spreading your vision thin and fragile. There is a thick fog that he cannot break. Even now when you turn your head towards him, asking what around your apple juice straw, it looks like you are seeing through him.

“I asked, would you like me to retrieve anything else? Your efforts have seemed to come to a constipated stop.” 

Perhaps that is mean of him to poke at but … the straw in your mouth flattens. “Shut up,” you berate him, meanly, yet with a faint smile all the same. Your head falls, matted ringlets of hair covering your face. Staring at the wet cloth of white on your neck, Jade listens as you murmur teasingly, “Eat my shorts.”

At least you are coherent enough to have an attitude with him. It causes a twitch of a smile to rise to his face. Leaning against the wall more but refusing to open the door wider for your sake, Jade notes, “You kept your apple juice down.” 

You only nod languidly at that. 

He had considered making slippery elm tea for you. However, teas can lead to slight dehydration and you have been unable to keep a majority of things down. The most has been a popsicle of electrolytes Floyd took from the lounge’s freezer. Water has unfortunately been a no-go. It makes Jade’s chest feel lighter to know you are on your second box of juice.

It feels like euphoria when he hears the sound of something hitting water. He smiles sweetly at you through the crack of the door, but you are less receptive to it.

“Shut the door!”

Jade fufu-s like a smug bastard.

“Privacy, dude! Privacy!” 

And, Jade went back to his bed, firmly closing the door behind him without another word. 

Certain ailments can be remedied in no time. A fever going down to lower temperatures and a wound closing up with blood clots. These are instant gratifications; worries that have both beginnings and ends. 

Such linear illnesses do not cause Jade as much strife as malaises that are difficult to identify or seem endless as a stretching horizon. The ones that seem to have no ends or starts. With those types of ailments, one always seems to find themselves in the middle of it. Those haunt him.

Another thing about Jade? Besides being a worrier, Jade thinks. He thinks deeply. 

This might be a symptom of having the family heirloom of worry passed down to him. A consequence of being born where he was and a consequence of being raised by whom he loves. Jade can think himself into the deepest, darkest pits. He can also use those very thoughts to build ladder rungs to escape those pits. It is all like a dog chasing its tail (more appropriately, an eel chasing its tail, growing dizzy in a mushroom-forest). 

He is chasing his own tail the entire time, thinking these thoughts as you two walk. Trying to see if from his memory, he can pull out some shortcut on healing you. Jade only stops chasing his tail when you both have completed one rotation around the courtyard’s square wall and you start to walk down cobblestones before shoving your shoulder into Jade’s sternum.

He looks down at you, curious. Your hand lifts up to rest on his pectoral muscle and the side of your face nuzzles into the same area. The buttons on his pajama top press uncomfortably into his skin like grinding pebbles. Cuddling standing up is not so uncommon but is it late, wouldn’t you rather sit on a bench; he should offer that alternative, shouldn’t he; would it not be rude of him to change your positions because it is likely you will recoil after that and not touch him again, couldn’t —

There he goes again, thinking and worrying. His automatic genetics are fully charged from a good night’s rest. Eyelids drooping softly, he breathes in the scent of your shampoo – a steady warmth that coats the scent of you onto the insides of his nostrils and heart like spray paint – and feels all that irrationality leave him.

“Mmm, you wanna talk about it?”

Jade blinks at your lazy drawl, words squished by his chest. He looks down and only sees the top of your head. “Talk about what?”

“Your disorganized head.”

You are so sweet, what did I possibly do to deserve someone … sweet? Jade’s body expands and deflates with a deep, content sigh. Your hand stirs on his pajama and falls limply to touch a button. You tap a melody on it that he does not recognize. “Ah, I assure you that was simply in jest. My health is quite strong.”

Jade looks at your howlite ring, watching it stir with each tap-tap you do. Sometimes, a person has to be on the verge of losing something to appreciate it in its full scope. It is a hard lesson to learn. Jade feels like he is learning it again. 

“Okay,” you easily concede. Your disposition rarely has you pressing for anything that will not easily break, not unless it is something you want really badly. You must not want to read his thoughts like he wants to read yours. What is your opinion of this situation, about what is happening between the two of you – is it good or bad?

Relationships are labyrinthine roads. Driven and steered through with two people in the vehicles, they only have one person with their hand on the wheel though. Thoughts are private. Jade brushes an ungloved hand through your hair, feeling the curves of where your skull lies. 

All of Jade’s thoughts mellow and simmer out until all he thinks is about is the bones in his feet that balance him on the ground, the sensation of the cold nipping his neck and ears that remind him of his faraway home, and the simple fact that he loves you very much and he hopes that he can love you all through December. When New Years passes, he hopes you will allow him to love you all through the upcoming twelve months.

“Your heartbeat is so nice.” 

Hm?

Jade rouses awake slightly, frost coating the tips of his hair and his legs numb. How long have the two of you been here? The sky is still black, a closed lid on this moment where only pinpricks of light break through like superficial air-holes. Still midnight? He shivers when your cold fingers sneak through the seams of his pajama top, webbing through the space from button to button.

“Your heartbeat. It has such a nice melody. Sometimes, I get so caught up in listening to it that I wanna try to change my body to copy. Like we’re two instruments that could match up to each other if we try hard enough.” You really are so – “Brrr, I’m freezing! Let’s go back to bed, babe!” 

– sweet, Jade thinks with a smile. 

If there is one feature that sets Jade and Floyd’s father apart from the rest, it has always been his voice. 

Vocal cords are unique as fingerprints. However, not all of them are pleasant to listen to and a few of them you can even mistake for others in crowds. Not Don Leech’s voice. No, his voice is in a class of his own. A sui generis sound that captivates all who are blessed or cursed to hear it.

Unfortunate merfolk say it is the type of voice that sends a chill down one’s spine. A feeling so sinister that it can only be described as the eerie walk of pycnogonida, spindly sea spiders, traveling down the body’s bony ladder. It is also the voice that has their mother’s head whirling towards their home’s entrance wherever she hears it, love in her eyes. A voice so comforting as it narrated youthful bedtime stories of ancient history and great battles.

The twins are unsure if their father is part-siren. It is a speculation not out of the realm of possibility. Even for all of Jade’s prowess when it comes to information collecting, he doubts he will ever in his life be able to find a crumb of his father’s past before the age of twenty-three. 

The available information concerning his origin (familial ties and beyond): 1. Don Leech never speaks of his mother or his father. No reminiscing on how his mother cooked a certain way nor any life lessons his own father taught him fall from his mouth. 2. Don Leech has no siblings. There are no nieces and nephews on that side of the family to grow up with. 3. Lastly, Don Leech appeared in the specific hometown that he raised Floyd and Jade in at twenty-three. Like a sudden storm, without any forewarning weather, manifested almost.

Frankly, it is impossible to track down any family history on their secretive, recondite father. Anyone that tries is foolish.

If Don Leech is part-siren, the gene in the blood is too diluted for either Floyd or Jade to possess any natural talent towards singing. Besides, they could never match the expectations set by their father’s strong baritone … which Jade is aware of as he stares at his double bass on stage at La Grotta with a … hole in his stomach, he believes.

Yes, he reassures himself after a moment. It is accurate to call it a hole. Somehow, it feels like a bottomless pupil of black and suckles at him like a parasite. It is quite unpleasant. He wishes he knew a spell or potion to dispel it from himself. Demure, Jade leans away from the curtain he was peeking from.

It is his, Floyd’s, and Azul’s first time playing at La Grotta. This will inevitably lead to Jade finding himself in the spotlight. Even when split amongst his brother and their plaything, it is a bit much for the young, freshly thirteen eel-mer. The diameter of that gaping crater grows and grows in his intestines.

As always, Jade is thoroughly prepared for any outcomes but he would loathe to accidentally do something foolish on stage. He even took precautions to change the bass strings with new ones, even though the replacement time did not call for it. If only … “Jade.”

Recognizing him right away without seeing him – “Father.” – Jade turns around to greet the sight of his father. Amber brown eyes gaze down at him like duel suns on the horizon. It is a surprise to be under their harsh, amber scrutiny because the young teen was told Don Leech was too preoccupied to come to their show. Stricken, he does not really know what else to say.

His father narrows his eyes and his ear-fins lower in … an unreadable emotion. Jade hopes it is not a sign of displeasure. So, he quickly adds, “I hope that today’s affairs have been luh-lucrative.” Damnit, Jade seethes with his head bowed. Foolish tongue.

Slowly, the ear-fins on the side of his father’s teal face lift up, the deformed, asymmetrical one on the left following along with the intact one on the right. His features do not soften because there is no probable way to soften such a face. The jagged nose scar will not grow tinier and the angular cut of his face will not round out. But still, it seems there is sympathy because in that sui generis voice, he inquires, “Are you afraid, Jade?”

“No, Father.”

Clip. Self-assured. Curt.

“Ah, so you are terrified.”

But it works poorly on his observant father. 

The capo-mandamento of their side of the Coral Sea gives his son a hard, pushing stare. There is something dreadful in your opponent knowing exactly what you are thinking while you are left clueless over their own thoughts. That hole of black, Jade remembers it as he watches his father peel back the curtain to look onstage.

The jazz trio instruments are all there: drums, double bass, and piano. All neatly placed in anticipation, even though the drummer said he is too bored to wait onstage and to call him when they are ready to start immediately, and even though the pianist has become thoroughly distracted with helping his mother serve orders, numerous tentacles carrying numerous trays. It is only Jade who is left, taskless and anxious.

But terrified? He would like to think not. After living in the Coral Sea for thirteen years, this is a mere bump in the torrential whirlpool of frightening experiences he has grown up with. His desensitization is healthy and strong. Jade means to go tell his father this but is stopped when …

“I used to sing here. Did you know that?” The words leak down over his father’s shoulder like snail mucus, dragging along the tattoo of the magnificent Sea Witch crushing the princess’s boat in her grasp. Hypnotic and powerful, even though he only says softly, “I sang no more than an hour and no more than once a week.” 

Still, the very action of Don Leech just revealing a smidgen of his past – nothing past his mysterious appearance at twenty-three but something beyond the time Floyd and Jade were born – has that hole closing up. Anxiety is sealed shut and awe bandages itself over. Jade tries not to show it as he leans in, intrigued. 

Those amber-brown eyes cut diamonds in the water as Don Leech turns back to look at his son, “Music. Perspective and personal emotions are shaped by the music we indulge in. It holds greater influence than any words you and I could use.”

Jade wants to soak these paramount, influential words in, but he cannot because something shocks him deeply in the heart. His touch-adverse father gently runs a taloned hand through Jade’s hair. Not ruffling it because the mafioso head knows it took his son effort to tame. Instead, he simply combs through it once until he reaches the other side. 

And, while he slips away, Don Leech murmurs in that distinguishable baritone, “When us merfolk hear music, we cannot help but be swayed to wayward influences.”

As both father and memory drop away into that black hole, Jade reaches out to hold a tip of teal hair in his gloved finger as if remembering that far-off touch. He rubs back and forth on the strand while thinking, Was that a cautionary tale or simply my Father’s eccentric type of humor? Is it something to keep in consideration after all these years?

Of course it is. What a foolish doubt. His father’s words always held a leash of influence over his sons, a guiding light in the dark. His influence is a key factor in why Floyd always polished his shoes every morning. For a very carefree, nonchalant individual, Floyd takes extreme care in maintaining his footwear. One of the reasons he does this? Because his father told him to.

Still, swayed by wayward influences? I am not so easily swayed. And what an odd turn of phrase too, Father. Perverse behavior is a tiny indulgence in Jade’s essence and not a shackle on his soul. In the Coral Sea, he learned how to get exactly what he wanted and when he wanted it. Nothing can steer Jade but himself.

He wants you. Yet more importantly, he wants you to want him in matching intensity, and he loathes the slight indication that he wants you more than you want him instead of the other way around. It bothers him on a deep, deep, underground level of his body, simmering in his stomach acid, and reminds him of the first time he experienced getting a splinter on a hike.

What a truly horrid sensation to have something under the skin. Jade thinks that he should – “I know Riddle collared (Name) yesterday, but can your vengeful plotting wait until after the meeting?”

Jade flicks his eyes off from where he was focusing. Which he realizes now as he gains coherency and sheds off his spiraling thoughts, it was directly towards Riddle Rosehearts. It was a pretty harsh look too. Curious, the eel-met glances down at Jamil and asks amused, “He collared her again?”

A grimace forms on Jamil’s face. The expression reminds Jade of a turn of phrase that expresses regret; it is called ‘spoke too soon’. He delights in that. When people realize they have slipped up when talking to Jade, it warms the eel-mer’s heart to know others are so, so comfortable around him.  

Jamil taps his ballpoint pen on his notes. His passages are exceptionally shorter than Kalim, who has been making great strides at actually actively being a housewarden. It seems Jamil has gotten over his inner turmoil when he informs, “Iago and her both returned to Scarabia with collars. Something about how the type of music they played was banned in Heartslabyul.”

Fondness lifts up Jade’s lips. Though he doesn’t get to experience all of it, your mischievous charms are something that have always been congenial to him. This wouldn’t have been the first time Riddle has collared you and it certainly won’t be the last. “Would you happen to know what they played?”

His expanse of knowledge on the Queendom of Roses is still limited. Which is why it’s nice Jamil answers without hassle, “Something a band of Queendom of Roses students played during V.D.C; she wouldn’t stop talking about them for a week. Apparently, the guitarist took his instrument and maimmed his fellow band member’s drum-kit.”

Music from V.D.C? Suddenly, a toothy grin overtakes Jade’s features. He remembers V.D.C very fondly. Your ineffable stress from not getting to play with Kalim and your ineffable supply of happy-go-lucky smiles when Jade and Azul agreed to browse the Foot Town with you before you all watched the performance together. The most interesting performance had to be when you puppeteered Malleus Draconia to fix the wrecked coliseum because you ‘had to see the other bands or you would just die!’

Grinning wide enough to split his face, Jade supplies the information he knows happily into the conversation, “Ah, that’s because there is a town in the Queendom of Roses that has the same type of music (Name) likes. They’re based around Alice’s disobedient nature and rule-breaking. She calls it punk music. They call it mad-hatter music.”

How quaint. He had not known that music was banned at Heartslabyul. It would make sense that mad-hatter music is banned in that dormitory; perhaps, he should let Floyd know this? He imagines both of you would be undeterred and try to play those rhythms together – you on vocals and guitar with his twin on drums.

“She might’ve been better off at RSA. Especially if they would have matched her rhythm and style.”

Jade’s grin drops as soon as the idea leaves Jamil’s mouth. “I believe she is perfectly suited for Night Raven College.” An entire other student-body knowing and adoring you, it stomps a foul taste in his mouth.

“I don’t know, but I’ve noticed an uptick of lilac cat hair in Scarabia.”

Ah, Alchemivich Pinka is caught in your web too? “Nothing more than a passing fancy. You’ll find yourself void of it in a week or two.”

“Her ability to make such quick acquaintances without overstepping is admirable. Not many here could copy such a feat.” 

“Oya, is that a dig into Kalim’s disposition that I hear?”

Jamil twirls his pen once, as if to absolve himself of any guilt. His face is stone, laser focused on the lecturing Headmage in front of him. But if one pays close enough attention, they would notice the slight curve of his mouth. Third year Jamil has been just, if not more, entertaining as closed off first year Jamil. 

“What earnest words. To think that day would come with you would be so honest with me. I’m glad that our friendship is advancing in so many lucrative ways.”

Jamil refutes dryly, “I spoke on (Name)’s habits and nothing more.”

Jade does not realize how enraptured he has been in this quaint conversation with Viper until something to his right leans against him, hard, almost slumping. For an inane second, he thinks his opposing seatmate has just made the bold move of resting on him. So, confused, Jade turns to clear up this misunderstanding that he is someone friendly enough to lean on. 

At least he would until droopy olive-brown and gold stare at him, half-lidded and presumably bored. “Hello, Floyd.” 

His twin barely responds, humming softly before he rests his head on Jade’s elbow. He’s homesick. Jade knows he has hit the nail on the head when he sees what Floyd is drawing. Especially since both mother and father neglected a phone call yesterday because of an uptick in business. 

The sketchbook Floyd bought is his own personal one. His twin has a natural talent for being able to visualize or hear something and replicating it. Musicology has always been in the frontier of his artistry, but he has a slight endearment towards art too. Besides, art above the surface has a wider variety than that underwater. 

It is almost impossible to create anything in his home. Ink or paint will float away unless an artist has a good magical hand, separating the liquid medium from their surroundings with wafer-thin, magical layers. A majority of paintings displayed in museums are found from shipwrecks or built by using colored stones, sculpting them into scenes. Longer wavelengths are also absorbed the deeper one travels in the Coral Sea. Red is unheard of. Such limiting yet comforting strifes. 

What Floyd is smooshing around with his thumb and darkening with a graphite pencil is the interior of La Grotta. Jade recognizes the stage almost immediately, having been stuck in daydreams about it. The booths made of large, arching backs of coral, the stage’s open oyster shell, and the hanging, bioluminescent seaweed – all so familiar. 

The only thing that disrupts it is the stark image of yourself. You have never been to the Coral Sea before. He hasn’t dared to suggest bringing you there. It is not a place you are familiar with yet at all. Yet, standing like an aphrodite in the oyster shell, mouth poised in song, you look right at home among the crowd of merfolk. 

They converse in soft mermish to not be overheard by an oblivious Headmage. 

“Is that supposed to be (Name)?”

“No, it’s grandma. Who else would it be, dumbass?”

“Well, if only you were an adequate artist, others could make a comprehensive image of what you are scribbling.” 

“Eat my shorts,” Floyd spits back, stealing your little phrase as he rubs a rubber eraser over your eyeballs. The part that makes you the most recognizable is not the microphone in your hand but the highlighted stars in your eyes, as white as the seaweed hanging above you.

Jade chuckles, going to turn to continue his conversation with Jamil, before Floyd asks unprompted, “When ya gonna invite Shrimpy over to meet Ma and Pops? Three months is way too long of a wait.”

Yes, he knows three months is quite a lengthy extent to go without meeting the parents, but not for you. For you, three months might just signal the end if Jade is not careful. Things are so volatile. You are reeling in displaced identity. Can he really afford to add more people selfishly into your inner circle?

“They’ll have to be a bit more patient. Nothing rewarding comes from grasping out too soon.” We hunt lying in wait.

“Yeah, well, ya tell Mama that because she’s all upset about not seeing or hearing Shrimpy. Can’t just mention to them that Shrimpy’s a singer then not bring her home. Idiot.”

“There are still things that need to be done, preparations before anything like that can happen.”

“Staller.”

“Call it what you will, but I don’t wish to spring a trap without checking all the nets are secured.”

“Oh?” Floyd finishes the last touches of light/white treading itself through your hair before he goes on to darken the shadows.

In fluent mermish, Jade replies, “Of course. I would not do all this without a clear end goal in mind. We will have to sabotage others who work towards gaining her favor. Her attention should not be spread so thin, so we will have to adopt the methodology of horse-blinders. Then, and only then, I would implement the design of capturing her.”

When the twins look at each other, they share a sharp, menacing grin. Needle-thin teeth smiling at wolfishly-thick teeth. It is a look that can be best measured in the satisfaction of a plan coming to fruition. Behind strands of teal, Floyd’s olive eye peeks out like a clownfish peeking out its anemone.

“She’s a tiny shrimp, so make sure ya don’t use too flimsy of a net. Pops taught us that. Make sure it's tight and cramped.” 

Ah, yes. That’s right. And, aren’t their father’s words always to be heeded to?

If Jade did not meticulously put together his appearance this morning, he might be a bit scornful that Azul is looking at him if he can’t recognize him. As if the two of them are strangers instead of familiarized predator and prey. Even his words are a bit hurtful (they aren’t really but Jade will still pout at them): “Am I dreaming or is that really you, Jade?”

“Relax, it’s me. Don’t cream your pants,” Jade punctually assures.

Subconsciously, his right leg lifts and crosses over his left. Just as quickly as he did it, he consciously moves it back. Firmly placing it down on the VIP’s carpet, he resumes his spread-out look. That one is going to be a hard habit to break.

Despite the given assurance, Azul still seems unconvinced. The dead giveaway is how his eyes flicker left and right to his brother and himself on the opposing couches, trying to pick up the details. His suspicion is not unwarranted. Jade and his brother have played games like this before, switching hair styles and voices, before having their unrespected, childhood plaything try to figure out who is who. 

Azul has a much more respectable air to him as he pushes his glasses snug to his face, articulating sharply, “I have no time to play this game today. 

“Final exams are approaching. Neglectful, procrastinating students are hard pressed for study materials.” His shoes and cane click hard like striked matches as he strides towards his desk. “I recently obtained from a Heartslabyul student – the one Jade so rudely walked out on if I might add.”

“You may not.”

“ – the magical prowess to memorize anything in exchange for a more athletic physique. A build ensured to capture the affection of that sweet Sage Island native he is pining over. Now, as for what we’ll do with such a zenith of intelligence –”

“What’s anyone gonna use that for?” Floyd protests. From his own spread out position on the couch, head upside down on the armrest, he glares at Azul. “I don’t wanna do the same thing as last year; that’s boooring.”

“If the both of you will quit interrupting, we might perhaps get to the actual idea.” Though it would cut another else to shreds, Azul’s glare is lackluster to the twins. Still, they allow him to drill on. “Nothing fires up students more than competition. Rudimentary sports, battle of bands, things like that. We’ll be hosting an ‘eating competition’ in the Longue. The prize? The ability to memorize anything without limitations.”

“An eating competition? Didn’t Shrimpy mention that a week back or something?” Floyd turns to Jade.

“She mentioned something like that; I believe it’s from a cartoon. Starts with a H … Hey … Hey something.”

“Hey Arnold!” Floyd snaps his fingers.

“It’s a custom we don’t have in Twisted Wonderland. If not for the prize, the experience of something new is bait and lure to bring in foot traffic. And, each loser will have to pay full price for all the meals they eat.”

“A food competition … eeh, doesn’t sound too bad.” His twin rolls his neck over the armrest, as if considering it. “I know a couple guys who’d be interested.”

“A competition where individuals gorge themselves until the verge of bursting with puke. Sounds delightful! What an intriguing custom.” The results will surely be sulfurous and show-stopping.

Yet, as typical, Jade’s fun is ruined before it even begins. Azul pushes up his glasses, levels him with a hard stare, and declares, “You’re not allowed to participate. Sevens knows I couldn’t financially recover from your appetite if you were permitted to take part.”

“A bold accusation. I wasn’t thinking anything of the sort.” The smile that crawls on his face suggests otherwise, gleaming silver with needle-point teeth and the smiley piercing hanging over those teeth like mistletoe.

Bloated with strife and anxiety like always, Azul sighs. He leans back into his chair, plush enough to relieve him of some of the burdens he carries. “If we are in conjunction, then you two can continue on with your shifts.” Like an unstoppable train, Azul is already grasping at documents and contacts that crowd his desk, ready to move onto the next big thing.

“Kaaay! Sounds fun.”

“I’ll be sure to spread the word.”

Jade opens the door for both of them to depart. But before he can close it fully, a sui generis voice slithers its way through the space between the door crack — “So they got my tooth on one end of the string and the doorknob at the other end!” — and it even influences smitten Azul to lift his head and look towards the noise. 

You are magnetic when you tell stories. Jade has seen people at other tables in the Lounge hush up so they can eavesdrop on your conversation. It is no wonder that through the slow, syrupy breakfast crowd that your voice pierces through all of them and is the first one all three of them hear together. Jade can even pinpoint your location based on the traveling vibrations of sound. 

“ … sweet summer child that I was, I put my full faith in them. I saw no reason not ta! So, my Mom’s got a surgeon grip on the doorknob. Steady; steady. And, my Dad starts the count: ooone, twooo, and right before we got to three … Bam! Just before three and my mouth’s gushing! I’m leaking red all over our dining room’s carpet. I swear, my Mom should’ve enlisted for the army! They need to start using her technique on P.O.Ws!”

Your eyeliner is smudged again; it is your typical ‘worn-in’ makeup look that you frequently do. It looks like you are fostering two black eyes. Grunge, he knows the style intimately. Your lipstick is a deep red. Might be more fitting to call it a dark red-violet; the hue closely resembles the skin of a plum. Uniquely picturesque like a model, you walk in narrating a story about your childhood with a sleazy grin and animated hands. Your guitarist and bassist are captivated, all three of you following after the waiter leading you to your seats.

Without any resistance, Floyd calls out, waving a hand, “Shrimpy! Look over here!” And, obviously that is what you do.

Witchcraft eyes turn towards the sound of his twin’s voice, mouth limp as you pause in narration, and look towards the VIP room’s entrance. Then, suddenly, you’re staring directly at Jade. Plum lips falling open in shock and eyeliner shifting as your eyes go round. 

Jade, satisfaction coursing through his veins, raises a stark white glove before demurely folding his hands in front of his belt. 

In the mere blink of an eye, you manage to weave through the servers and customers, completely forgetting about your entourage, to jump around Jade in circles. Giggling up a storm, you hop around your boyfriend in circles — “Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god, Jade; ah, I love the new look; babe; the piercings are so, so razer; oh my god; we match; we match; ah, Jade you pull it off so well; your eyebrow piercing is so razer!!” — and scrutinize all the changes that he made yesterday night. 

Finally, you stop circling him and stand in front him, almost vibrating in place with awe. The enthusiasm in your eyes causes them to shine in bright white highlights like diamonds. 

“They’re all authentic too. It took quite some practice to get this one.” Jade flashes you a grin, revealing all his teeth and the bull piercing metal that is impaling through the tissue connecting his upper lip and upper gum. 

Everything falls cleanly into place in Jade’s net. 

[echantedtoon]

No Good Deed Goes Unpunished Ch4 M I N E

(Hey everyone. I just wanted to thank everyone who read this far and liked my story enough to read it to it's end. I had a lot of fun writing it and it makes me happy knowing some people loved it enough to read it fully. If you liked this consider checking out my other works. Thanks to everyone for reading this, faving it, or leaving a nice comment. And thank you to Eiichiro Oda for creating such wonderful characters and giving me the opportunity to make this wonderful story.

Warnings for yandere themes, mentioned entertainment district and spicy stuff but it will STAY sfw, Kid's in cannon killing streak and violence, maybe some cussing, and kidnapping.

The song used is Apple Blossoms from the anime Mashiro no OTO linked below.

https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=XAqYuYkw32s&list=LL&index=4&pp=gAQBiAQB )

Tagging @punks-never-die205 @feiatjjk

@karmadglory @babygurlenthusiast

@swampstew

@purplesoulsapphire

The nature of the night brought out the animals and fever in all man. Blinding them all to their whims and igniting a natural crave in all to satisfy.  The festival held up tonight started that bright desire.

Fireworks are chaos and unpredictability. Their explosive gifts like heaven's art. Filling the night with their bright dreams, born to live through colour then die again. The spectators seeing their blazing trails arc above. There's something about them that warms the heart even in the cold, as if their stray sparks passed into their blood.

So tell her why must the heavenly lights bring amongst their happy lights such sorrows?

Why must such sorrows take a hold of your skin at the time of happiness amongst the hundreds of others laughing at the company of others and the dazzling gleam of lights reflecting off their eyes like hundreds of tiny mirrors to the souls. The laughter's ambience and joyous sights held nothing within the mind of one that found nothing but sorrows.

She felt no happiness. Just a sense a duty. A 'must get the job done' attitude with a true neutrality. Felt no spark when you were ushered away to be properly dressed up as beautiful as the lights in the sky. Felt no hope despite the immense dancing of the crowds and the joyous laughter they exuded towards the heavenly lights of the dark abyss.Filling their heads with joy and their hearts with warmth. 

The music of the giant celebration gently flowed throughout and between the beautiful decorations wrapped around the walls of buildings. The way the candles inside lanterns lit up the surroundings and made the shadows beautifully dance against the walls. The way the smell of delicious foods being sold by vendors and the thick gunpowder and smoke wafted through the air. The beautiful music mixing with the laughter and talking of the guests around the lights.

It was almost like a dream. Everyone having a great time behind their happy faces, no one telling who they were or maybe that was all part of the game. The fun of not knowing who you were speaking too and being able to be your own person tonight. But maybe she wasn't meant to join the fun and laughter that everyone else seemed to be having. 

For tonight the merriment was not going to be able to get to her. For it had started with a fear. A fear stricken girl whom had immediately barged onto the stage the star was performing her dances and smiling sweetly at the happy crowd gathered to watch the performances. Stopping the smile on her face by uttering twenty eight words.

"I-It's Eustass Kid! He's back! P-Please come back to the house!," she pleased clutching a hold of the oiran's sleeve crying. "H-He's demanding that you sho-show up or else he's going to do something bad. Ple-Please come back!"

So the night begin. 

First coming back to the house in an extremely ungraceful fashion. Her arm clutched within the death grip of the scared girl pulling her along in a run. Her shoes lost in the scuffle and her flowing robes clutched up into her arms to avoid dragging the ground. The crowds murmurs blurring hearing and crowds bumping constantly enough to feel like being squeezed in a sardine can. Secondly arriving at the home only to be greeted by quite a sight. 

Girls crying out. Sobbing and cheeks tear soaked. Even those whom weren't crying were scared. Cowering in corners and against walls curled up and clutching onto each other for comfort. Some hiding behind furniture or within the curtained doorways. 

This never happened. Something had happened in the hours she was gone entertaining and now a dreaded feeling of wrongness painted these walls. 

"Oiran Y/n-san!," the house master cried out in relief somehow looking even more pathetic and scared than the girls around himself. "Thank the gods you're here! He's going to murder everyone if you don't do something!"

"Master, what happened here?"

"It doesn't matter!" He screamed in her face forcibly grabbing her by the arm and pulling her along harshly towards the nearest flight of stairs. "You get in there and please him so my business doesn't burn down with him!"

Stairs winding and long greeted feet as they thudded along. Marching on their death parade to execution. Or it felt that way. Climbing wider and higher towards the dead end that sank in their doom. The only thing between her and the fate being a thin sliding door that even seemed thinner, barely containing the fright that stood behind it's barrier. To be seen by the orbs that were pulled harshly and yanked towards the door by the man who shot a snarl at her.

"I don't know what happened between the two of you the last time he was here-" A finger pointed at her face. "-but whatever it was caused me a week's worth of free business then and now he comes back strolling in like he owns my very house. So whatever damages he causes remember that YOU are solely responsible for it! As you are responsible for gett rid of him!" With that the harsh grip around her wrist left. The man instead using those hands to straighten his appearance before inhaling and forcing a smile on his face. The door sliding open just slightly to peep his head in. "I'm so sorry for the wait, Sir. She's here now so I'll send her right in."

With that he turned back to bore a deep scowl at the woman whom blinked as the man backed away leaving her to be left alone to face the ever looming danger on the other side of the door. 

The door that should have closed two years ago.

The one week two years ago that seemed more like a distant dream than an actual memory. It had been so long ago that she last saw the pirate. The red haired devil that roamed the seas. The very one claimed to be behind the door again. For what purpose has he returned? Perhaps the festivities attracted more than just the citizens' attention but the attention of sea fairing men as well. After what must've been forever in silence passed, footsteps approached the door. A small hand reached out to grab the door. With a drag sound it opened up for the calm woman to step instead.

And the calmness was quickly replaced by shock and frozen ice as they widened at the sight they beheld. 

Amber eyes turned on the beautiful woman who stared back at him with shock. Red lips pulled back in a smirk. "Dove. You haven't really changed much."

He chuckled at the reaction of hers but he was expecting that. After all he did look quite different than the last time they saw each other. He wasn't really offended by the way beautiful eyes followed the movements of his metal arm as it reached out for a gourd of sake and brought it too his mouth. The sweet bitter sour taste of the liquid burnt out his throat but was a welcomed one. Eyes roamed over his body. Noting the radical changes to it.

Eustass Kid no longer had two arms. Well she supposed he did but one was clearly prosthetic and clanked lightly with his movements. Gone were the jewelry on his wrists and the old coat she remembered. He seemed much more..

Larger. Stronger. Opposing.

Dangerous.

She supposed that a life of a pirate would lead to that. Changes of one's self was a part of life. Though the dangerous part still stood. While she had not seen him, takes of his misdeeds were not unheard of to her ears. Most noticable that his previous bounty had been. Raised to four hundred seventy million berries for the astrocities occured by his hands. But even so she quickly calmed herself before bowing with a smile.

"Captain Kid-san. What a nice surprise. It has over two years since we had met last."

"Again with the formal shit huh?" He huffed leaning his head into his remaining arm maintaining that smirk. "Cut that shit out. We're both pretty...familiar  with one another. We got pretty close  during my stay here.~"

Yes. The physical intimacy they did partake in. However she merely chuckled at his overtly flirtatious innuendos thrown her way used to such things in her line of duty. However that still begged the question in her mind.

"Your arrival is an unexpected surprise but a welcome one. To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?"

Amber eyes seemed to hyper focus as she walked in calmly closing the door behind her. Closing the two inside and blocking out any outsiders. Walking into his wanting space that DEMANDED he reach out and take. To hold, keep, and take for himself. 

The want started when he first saw her. Increased with a single kiss. And solidified itself when the first intimate act was initiated. He had brushed it off back then. He had important goals and wants to do like becoming the Pirate King. But the want jabbed his head every moment he left. Dreams consisting of beautiful eyes staring at him. Mornings women up in disappointment there was no sweet warmth beside him to greet him. No sweet smiles staring at him with eyes so bright and without fear of approaching the Red Devil. 

He refused to give into the wants. He wasn't about to be weak with emotions. But after so long the WANT became unbearable. Then the epiphany hit him. He could fucking do whatever he wanted. If he wanted riches he took it. If he wanted power he took it. So if he wanted this woman-

"I happened to be in the area and wanted to stop by. That a problem?"

"Of course not. I'm just surprised that you showed up so quickly. Usually I am the one who goes to visit my customers." She calmly walked on over to the tea kettle in the middle of the room, leaning down to fiddle with the top before it came off. "Would you perhaps like a cup of tea?"

"And drink that liquid donkey shit? No thanks." His eyes narrowed slightly. "What took you so long to get here? Was it..another one of those customers?"

Her head turned at him. The tone underlining with something sinister but she smiled. "Not tonight. I was performing for the festival when you sent for me. I do apologize for my delay but I am here now. That's what's important."

"...Heh. You're dam right about that part." Her eyes blinked when the cold of metal touched her skin and tilted her head up to him. "I missed this pretty face."

"I thank you for the compliment. It'll be nice to catch up before I leave."

In an instant the air in the room shifted. Becoming so tense. Thick enough one would have to cut it with a knife just to hear the silence. The smirk previously on his face gone as nothing was left behind but a blank slate. It took maybe two minutes of them staring at each other in the silence. Before a new emotion wrenched his gut making him growl.

"What?" 

"My contract has been bought by a man named Orochi. I am to be sent to his personal residence the first of next month." Her palm demeanor never changed despite the goosebumps crawling across her skin from the intensity of the look in his eyes. "Although I do not know who he is or what he looks like. My contract was bought through messenger. I have no choice in the matter of my contract."

She decided to add that last part in a way to deflect anger from herself and hopefully bring calm to the way his jaw clenched. He did not move as she reached up to gently cup the cold metal arm in hers. 

"It doesn't matter however. What's done is done and there's no point in getting brash over it. We have now so let us make the most of it."

Perhaps the mentioning of her contract will spare the house and get him to leave the poor girls alone like the house master wanted. If she wasn't here there'd be no reason for him to return. He still did not move staying eerily quiet, before a strained almost manic smile crossed his face. 

"That's right, Dove. It doesn't fucking matter cuz you're mine now. Why don'tcha grab that guitar over there and play me that song from last time? I wanna hear your pretty voice.~"

She smiled. "If that's what you'd like."

She happily (and secretly a bit relieved) got up and shuffled to the other side of the room to grab the shamisen leaning against the wall and turned. He kept smiling widely and a hand slowly patted the spot next to him.

"Come sit down right here, Pretty Dove. That way I can get a first row seat to my show."

The same prickling goosebumps feeling went down her back but she merely only bowed before shuffling over and calmly sitting down into place, holding her shamisen ready, and starting to prick away the notes to the song that was her favorite.

"Saa! Ah!   Ah, ah, saa!"

A beautiful voice waved off the walls with the echoes of music notes playing just for the two in the company of the room. The distance cheering of voices and bursting fireworks being the only ones accompanying her music.

"Now we begin.  Ah even the trees on winter days, repose with their limbs buried in snow awaiting the moment for their buds to emerge."

A feeling on her forehead caused orbs towards the touch despite her hands keeping up with the tempo of the song and her voice still singing the song. The touch was his hand reaching out to remove a few stray strands of silky shiny hair from her face allowing him a clear view of her.

 "Ah, in Spring they are delicately, deftly pruned. Wearing medicinal herbs as make up, they revisit their youth."

Her eyes watched his own as amber eyes stared at her.

WANT.

Want they said. Not in lust. But as a whole. Want. Take. WANT WANT WANT!! NOW!! Her eyes slowly closed-

"Don't close your eyes. I want you to look at me while you sing," he said organic hand cupping her cheek.

It didn't sound like a threat but she complied opening her eyes again much to his pleasure as he practically melted watching her. As she continued to sing through this strange eye contact.

"These flowers blossom but once a year."

He leaned closer. Enough for her to feel a bubble of uncomfort and the warmth radiating off his body. It was equal parts frightening and worrying but she wasn't confused. She knew what she was seeing and she was frightened by it.

"Ah when Autumn comes and it shows it's face once more it has ripened and taken on a luscious red hue and it's taste is even finer than it's color-"

She stopped when something suddenly happened. She gasped out as she was pulled forward, and in a second found herself placed in a rather compromised position, the shamisen falling with a clatter to the ground. Now in the pirate's lap with his strong arms cradling her to his chest. The redness in her cheeks was instant as he chuckled which ended in a relaxed exhale through his nose before looking at her surprised face.

"You're fucking easy to surprise, Dove.~ I thought you would've been used to a man's touch by now 'specially mine."

"I-...This D-Does not happen often. You caught me off guard."

"Better get used to it, Doll. It'll happen more often." She blinked foreheads suddenly touching.

"What?" 

Hold increased on her as his insane grin widened. "Did you forget? Nothing matters cuz you're mine now. I said so." Orbs widened in realization of the words spoken. "You ain't leaving next month. You're fucking coming back with me and I'll fucking tear whoever gets in my way limb from limb slowly from the joints."

Whatever the Captain wanted he got. 

WANT. TAKE. PLUNDER. KEEP.

M I N E.

[imtrashraccoon]

Whew! I didn't think I'd get this one done today! I have been busy the past couple days but had managed to get a few chapters written back in December. Hopefully, I can get a few more written so I'm not as late again.

TW: Death and descriptions of death.

@owl-bones

First, Previous, & Next Day

Bad Sansuary II: Dust - Missed

Word Count: 1,931

At least it wasn't raining as hard as it had been during the day. The constant pitter patter of raindrops was also a rather soothing background noise. Unfortunately, you had been trudging through puddles all night and now you were really regretting not bringing a pair of boots.

Most soldiers wore sabatons or some form of sturdy footwear, but unless the terrain or weather conditions were really bad, you preferred to go without. Your paw pads were tough and much quieter than a pair of clunky boots could ever be. You felt more maneuverable, like you could more easily grip the ground when running, and you also preferred the overall freedom. Going barefoot meant you felt like you could let loose no matter where you were.

Although, there were downsides to not wearing boots. There was no relief from extreme heat or cold and you were more prone to injuries from stepping on something sharp. Right now, your fur was soaked through to at least halfway up your calves and every step made a soft squishing sound that made you cringe.

You were trying to stick to the overhangs again, but it wasn't easy to do so while avoiding being seen. Despite the weather, there seemed to be the same amount of guards patrolling the streets as last night. Your armour was damp, but not completely soaked through just yet. You would survive at least.

Your ears perked up at the sound of slow footsteps. Who could be out on a night like this? Slowly, you crept out of the alley, keeping behind cover so as to not be spotted. Your eyes strained to make out anything in the inky darkness. What you would give to see in the dark like your partner could. Maybe you should ask Donovan if he could make you some Night Eye potions?

Thankfully, the streets weren't completely devoid of light as some lamplight would occasionally leak out from the interior of the buildings and the patrols always carried either a torch or a lantern, so it was relatively easy to know when they were passing by. While not on every street, there were also lanterns hung up on posts at major intersections.

Whoever was out tonight certainly wasn't a guard as their footsteps sounded softer and they had no light, save for a small lantern. Even though they had the hood closed, the dim light it emitted was just bright enough to make them stand out from the black. They wore a dark cloak that obscured their body so that you couldn't tell if they were human or monster. What drew your attention was the large eye painted over the chest and shoulders of the garment.

You waited until they passed by your hiding place before creeping out after them. You had to make sure to keep a safe distance away to remain undetected, but the figure seemed to be in no hurry and you were easily able to keep track of them.

You followed the cloaked figure through the streets for a little while. Thankfully, your keen hearing and smell prevented you from losing track of them for longer than a few seconds at a time. You weren't more talented than most dog monsters, but you liked to think that your heightened senses were a valuable addition to the team. Of the four, Maul was the only one who could even hold a candle to your abilities and, while he was impressive, he was no bloodhound.

You were starting to wonder if you had been right about there being occult activity in the city. Why else would there be a person in creepy robes roaming through the streets? It couldn't be just a cultural thing. If it came down to it, you were pretty sure you could handle a couple of cultists, although it was a different story if they happened to be mages. Maybe if you could get the drop on them, you would have a fighting chance, but if they spotted you first, you knew you couldn't match their magic output.

Suddenly, a purple bone bullet whizzed past the cloaked figure, embedding itself in the cobblestone. The figure turned to flee but before they could do so, a shadowy figure materialized next to them brandishing a shortsword.

It took you a moment to realize Reven had been tracking your quarry as well, but when you did, you felt a wave of anger well up in your chest. This was supposed to be a clean infiltration mission. No killing random citizens, since it would draw unwanted attention from the authorities. So why had Reven, who was normally the more level-headed one, mess it all up?

The cloaked figure managed to dodge what your partner had likely intended to be a finishing blow. The moment they raised their hands, possibly to cast a spell, you sprang into action. You leaped over a crate, clearing the distance in a second, and simultaneously casting one of the few spells you knew.

A spectral chain took shape in your paws, lengthening and forming two weights at the end, taking on the familiar shape of your preferred weapon: a meteor hammer. Swinging one end around, you brought the weight down on the figure's head, dropping them to the ground in an instant.

You paused for a moment in case they might try to get up, but the figure remained prone. They didn't immediately turn to dust, so you knew they either weren't dead or weren't a monster. You were admittedly a little disappointed that you didn't receive any exp, but you didn't have time to check.

The moment you looked up, Reven raised his blade and let out a growl of frustration. You responded by mirroring his aggressive stance, although you didn't start swinging your weapon right away, instead intending to defend yourself if he followed through.

"What's gotten into you?!" you snarled, baring your teeth at him.

"you stole my kill..." he muttered. His mismatched eyelights were practically blazing with fury and you noted that his hands were shaking, but you weren't sure if he was just that angry or if it was something else.

"Stand down, they're still alive." You tightened your grip on the spectral chain and took a step forward. "I only knocked them out, okay?"

He stared at you for a moment longer before slowly sheathing his shortsword. He still looked angry, but at least he had enough sense not to try killing you as well.

You responded by dispelling your meteor hammer, although you still kept a close eye on him. Reven may have changed his mind, but you knew from past experience that he could snap at any moment and could also easily overpower you. The last time you had fought had been the day you joined the Dark Fortress and found your soulmate. If you hadn't been fighting alongside Sir Draco, you wouldn't have survived for more than a minute against him.

When Reven broke eye contact, you took a moment to assess the situation. You were both standing over a body in the middle of the street and a guard could come by at any moment, if you hadn't already been spotted that is.

You bent down, hooking your paws through the cloaked figures armpits and started to drag them into a nearby alley. "Come on, help me get them out of sight," you called out to your comrade in a loud whisper.

Your request seemed to light a fire under the spellsword and he quickly grabbed ahold of the figure's ankles. Together, you half dragged, half carried them into the alley and behind some debris. Once done, you turned to your comrade and crossed your arms.

"You rarely miss strikes. Are you doing alright?"

Reven leaned against the brick wall and let out a shaky sigh. "no..." he hissed through clenched teeth. "i'm desperate... just need some exp..."

Your eyes widened as you moved to stand in front of him. Not only were his hands shaking, but his whole body was trembling and you noticed he was sweating as well. Without really thinking, you pressed a paw to his skull, immediately registering that he was burning up, before he jerked away and gave you a sour look.

"Ah, sorry, I should've asked first." You gave him an apologetic look but he didn't respond. "You've got it really bad... How long has it been?"

"...too long." He pulled his hood further over his skull as if he was trying to hide his face from you. "i... i acted without thinking..." he muttered, running his gauntlets down his face.

You opened your mouth to respond when a shuffling noise drew your attention back to the cloaked figure. Realizing they were awake, you began to move, only to freeze in place when they let out a scream for help. Before you could even begin to silence them, a purple bone suddenly pierced through the figure's chest.

The figure let out a strangled cry mixed with a sickening gurgle before collapsing against the cobblestones. Their muscles twitched once and then that was it. A dark puddle began to slowly seep out from their body and your nose twitched with the metallic scent of blood.

"Reven..." you started to whisper, turning to your partner with a look of horror.

He met your gaze with a blank stare and neither of you said anything for a moment. "they were going to give us away," he finally said.

Before you could respond, your ears picked up the sound of multiple hurried footsteps and you turned sharply towards the street, only to see the glow of at least two torches. Reven grabbed your arm, nearly dragging you deeper into the alley until your brain caught up a moment later.

"Stop!" one of the guards shouted, but it only served to spur you on.

That is, until you came to a screeching halt at the end of the alley. Your escape was blocked by a brick wall with nowhere to go. There was nowhere to hide either and a quick glance around proved that there were no windows or ledges within reach.

"the wall..." Reven hissed. "we'll have to climb over, c'mon!"

He moved next to the wall and folded his hands together, creating a foothold so he could boost you up. You didn't hesitate for a moment. With a bit of a running start and help from your partner, you sprang up and got a good grip on the top of the wall. Thankfully, you managed to haul yourself up and get a solid perch.

You turned around, spotting the guards rapidly closing in and reached down to Reven. "Come on!" you called out.

He jumped up, grabbing your hand in an effort to haul himself up as well. You strained to keep yourself from losing your balance while also supporting his weight.

You didn't know if you lost your grip or if Reven did, but he suddenly slipped and fell. The momentary delay was all it took for the two guards to catch up and corner your comrade against the wall.

"run!" he shouted. You hesitated for a moment before he looked up, making direct eye contact with you. "forget about me and save yourself!"

"No soldier gets left behind!"

As the guards overpowered your comrade, the words of your former mentor echoed through your mind. Still, you forced yourself to move, leaping to the ground on the other side of the wall and running off into the night with your tail between your legs.

[longitudinalwaveme]

Fictober 2024--Aurora Borealis

Day 14: “Let’s Try This.” 

It's the Len Snart as a Green Lantern AU!

Len Snart was sitting in his rundown motel room, flipping through a newspaper, when a particular article caught his eye. It was about the Flash, the superpowered crimefighter who had recently popped up two years ago in his hometown of Central City—and who was sure to be a real pain in the neck. Evading the cops was one thing. All that took was caution and timing (although having glasses that could intercept radio bands from squad cars definitely helped). Evading a man who could run fast enough to break the sound barrier? Len was no scientific expert, but even he knew that that was probably impossible. 

Impossible unless there was a way to slow him down…and this article said that some scientist types were publishing an article on the Flash’s speed. If Len could get his hands on that article, maybe it would give him some ideas of how to evade even the city’s new so-called superhero. 

Len snorted. Superhero indeed. Superpowered cop was more like it…and where had the cops been when his old man took a beer bottle to his shoulder? Or when he’d gone after his little sister with a lit cigarette?

Lookin’ the other way, that’s where. Because his old man had been a cop too, and even though he’d been kicked off the force, he still had enough connections to get them to turn a blind eye. And like as not, the Flash would be the same way. Which meant Len was going to do everything he could to stay out of his way—especially since the Flash had been the reason he’d spent the last couple of years in the state pen. 

He’d look into getting his hands on that scientific article tomorrow. But for tonight, he was going to suffer through tonight’s Cubs game. Len reached for the remote and was about to turn on the TV when he was suddenly enveloped in a bright green light. His motel room disappeared, and suddenly found himself standing in a large empty field. Central City’s skyline was still visible in the distance, so he hadn’t been transported too far away, but that didn’t explain how he had been in his motel room one second and outside of the city the next. 

And it definitely didn’t explain the wrecked spaceship, which looked like something out of the science fiction comics that his grandfather had given him when he was a kid. So either aliens were real, or some weirdo had blown a ridiculous amount of time and money on pranking him. The only way to find out which was to go into the spaceship. 

“I must be losin’ my mind,” Len muttered as he made his way toward the crashed spaceship. For all he knew, this might be some sort of alien trap—but while he’d always been cautious, he’d never been one to avoid a situation just because it might be dangerous. If he had, he’d still be under the thumb of his old man. 

“Come in, Earthman,” a voice suddenly said. Len followed the voice to see a pink-skinned, yellow-eyed guy, dressed in some sort of green and black uniform. He was basically human in shape, but something about him told Len that this wasn’t some guy in makeup. This was a real alien—and he didn’t look so hot. 

“Who are you? What’s goin’ on here?” Len asked. 

“My name is Abin Sur. I am not of Earth, but of a far distant planet. And I am dying,” the alien said weakly.

“Uh, if you were tryin’ to call a doctor, you got the wrong guy. I don’t know the first thing about medicine. If you need help, you should probably use whatever fancy tech you used to teleport me here to teleport us to Central City General Hospital,” Len said. The hospital might not know how to treat an alien, either, but they would be a lot more likely to be able to help than some borderline-illiterate ex-con. 

“No. It is too late to help me. Besides, I must speak to you on a matter of great importance,” the alien replied. 

“You’ve gotta tell someone about somethin’ more important than your life—and you grabbed me?” Len asked. He was starting to think that this alien guy must have gotten brain damage in the crash. 

“Yes. Look at this battery, Earthman,” the alien said. He pointed to his right, where Len saw something that looked like the old-timey lantern his grandfather had owned—only glowing green. 

“Looks like some kinda…. green lantern.”  

“Yes….in your words, a green lantern. But actually it is a battery of power, given only to selected space patrolmen in the super-galactic system, to be used as a weapon against the forces of evil and injustice.” 

“So you’re some sorta space cop?” Len asked. 

“Indeed. We call ourselves the Green Lantern Corps, and it is our duty, when disaster strikes, to pass on the battery of power to another who is fearless—and honest. The battery has already selected you as one who has been made immune to fear. Come closer to me, Earthman, so that I may use my ring to scan you and measure your honesty,” the alien replied. Len actually laughed. Was this alien really trying to recruit him as a space cop? 

“Much as I hate to disappoint you, pal, I think you got the wrong guy. Maybe your battery got damaged when your spaceship crashed or somethin’, I don’t know, but I’m an ex-con. Been in and out of jail since I was eighteen. I don’t think I’m somebody the other space cops would wanna take on as a rookie,” Len said. The alien didn’t seem to care, though, as he pointed his hand at Len, and a beam shot out from the ring on his finger—a ring that was shaped to look like a lantern. Apparently the space cops liked to stay on brand. 

“Hey! If you really are dyin’, quit wastin’ your time on me and teleport the Flash here. He’s all noble and upstandin’ and crap, and he’s even got powers. He’s the guy you wanna make a space cop.” 

“By the green beam of my ring, I see that you do not put up pretenses. You are exactly as you appear to be. So you pass both tests.” Len’s theory that the alien was brain damaged was becoming more and more likely by the second. 

“Sure, I don’t make no bones about what I am—but what I am is an ex-con! A cheap crook! And you’re tryin’ to recruit a new space cop! For all you know, I’ll use the badge as a cover to rob people blind without gettin’ caught!” 

“No. You won’t,” the alien replied.

“What’s gonna stop me? You’re about to kick the bucket, ain’t you?” 

“What’s going to stop you, Leonard Snart, is you. Though you have been a criminal and an evildoer, and thus have no love lost for the law enforcement of this planet, you still despise those who cover their acts of wickedness and evil with the badge of righteousness. You would not join their number—for if you did, you would be exactly like your father.” 

“How do you—”

“When the ring scanned you to measure your honesty, it also allowed me to probe your mind and learn of your history.”

“It did what?” 

“There is still much to tell you, and only moments left! My ship was battered…in the deadly radiation bands surrounding your planet. A terrible yellow light, similar to your aurora borealis, blinded me at the controls. Then I crashed.”

“And how does any of this make me a good candidate for bein’ a space cop?” 

“Only seconds left to tell you…once you have the battery, you will have power over everything—except that which is yellow!” 

“Yellow? Like, the color? 

“The unique metal which charges the battery with its wondrous power has a yellow impurity in it. Strangely enough, if that yellow impurity is removed, the battery instantly loses its power. It is this impurity in the battery which will make you powerless over anything yellow!” 

  “So the ring will let me read minds like a creepy weirdo and teleport terrible choices for new space cops anywhere I want, but I’ll be up a creek without a paddle if someone comes at me with a banana?” 

“Now, take my ring. Let me put it on you. With this ring you will drain power from the battery, effective every twenty four hours,” the alien said as he grabbed Len’s hand. If he hadn’t obviously been on his deathbed, Len would’ve socked him in the nose, but even he wasn’t quite low enough to punch a dying guy in the face. He took the ring from his finger and slipped it onto the ring finger of Len’s right hand. 

“Seriously, you should really go find the Flash for this. Or an Earth cop. Or anybody who, you know, isn’t a criminal,” Len said. 

“The battery has chosen you, Leonard Snart. I do not pretend to understand why, or how, but it has—which means there must be some good in you.” Len snorted. 

“Sure there is. Which is why I knock over liquor stores.” The alien fixed him with a really intense stare. 

“Your grandfather was a good man, Leonard Snart. For his sake, and as my dying request, I charge you: swear to use this ring to fight for justice, and to atone for the life of crime you have led.” 

Len had always known on some level that his grandfather wouldn’t be real happy if he had been alive to learn about the line of work he had taken up, but he’d never had anyone directly confront him with it before. The guilt that stirred up, combined with the force of someone’s last request, swamped his better judgment. 

“Okay, okay. I swear.” 

“In order to charge your ring, you must touch the ring to the battery and recite the oath of the Green Lantern Corps,” the alien said. Len walked over to the battery and touched the ring to it. 

“Now, repeat after me. In brightest day—” 

“In brightest day.” 

“In darkest night—” 

“In darkest night.” 

“No evil shall escape my sight.”

“No evil shall escape my sight.”  Len wanted to ask if that “evil” included him, but decided against it. The alien was about to kick the bucket, after all.

“Let those who worship evil’s might…” 

“Let those who worship evil’s might.” 

“Beware my power—Green Lantern’s light!” 

“Beware my power—Green Lantern’s light!” The ring and the battery both glowed a bright green, and Len suddenly found himself dressed in a black-and-green costume identical to the one the alien was wearing. The appearance of the costume was followed a few seconds later by a rush of energy that wasn’t like anything Len had ever felt before. If this was the power of a Green Lantern, no wonder the oath warned people to beware of it. 

The alien slumped, as though he had used up the last of his strength. 

“Now, I have told you all. Do not fail me.” The alien’s eyes closed and his body fell still, and Len didn’t need a super-powered ring to know that he was dead. Len wondered if the guy had an alien family. Since Len had apparently been chosen to be his replacement, was he supposed to track them down and tell them about his death if he did? How was any of this supposed to work? 

“Abin Sur leaves behind a son, Amon Sur, a sister, Arin Sur, and a niece, Soranik Natu,” a robotic voice said. After a few seconds of panic, Len realized that the voice was coming from the ring—which meant that the ring could answer at least some questions. 

“Am I supposed to—” 

“No. The news of Abin Sur’s death has already reached the Guardians of the Universe, to whom all Green Lanterns report. They will send a messenger to inform his loved one of his passing.” Len sighed in relief. The last thing he wanted was to have to tell a total stranger—a total stranger from another planet, no less—-that his old man had died. 

“They gonna pick up the body, too?” 

“No. Abin Sur considered all the planets in Sector 2814 as his own, and requested that he should be buried on the planet where he died,” the ring replied. Len swore. He didn’t particularly like the idea of having to dig somebody’s grave, but even he didn’t feel right leaving the guy’s corpse to rot. Which meant he was gonna have to bury Abin Sur. 

Two hours later, Abin Sur was buried, and Len used the ring to mark his grave with a glowing green tombstone. It wasn’t much, but he wasn’t an undertaker. Hopefully his efforts would keep the space cop from rolling over in his grave, at least.

“Rest in peace, I guess,” he muttered. Then he looked down at his ring. 

“You mind takin’ me back home? Standin’ around a dead guy’s grave is startin’ to give me the creeps.”. The ring enveloped him in the green light, and after a few seconds he found himself back in his motel room. The battery had apparently come along for the ride, since it was resting next to the bed. 

“And can I have my regular clothes back? You might’ve chosen me to be a space cop, but I ain’t exactly on the clock right now.” There was another flash of green light, and Len was relieved to look down and see that his clothes were back to normal. It would’ve been kind of hard to explain to the motel owner why he was wandering around in a green-and-black leotard. 

Len yawned, and decided that he could plan out his next move in the morning. He walked over to his bed, laid down on it without even bothering to take off his clothes, and was soon fast asleep.

****************************************************************************** When Len woke up, he rolled over on his bed—only to see the power battery. He swore. So much for his hope that his encounter with the alien space cop had been a dream brought on from eating week-old takeout. 

Which meant that life as he had known it had come to a very sudden end. Len sighed wearily and looked down at the lantern-shaped ring on his finger. 

“You have some sort of space cop manual or something? ‘Cause I ain’t got the foggiest idea of what I’m supposed to do now,” Len asked. 

“As a newly recruited member of the Green Lantern Corps, your first task is to report to the Guardians of the Universe on the planet Oa,” the ring replied. 

“Wait. I have to go to another planet?” Len didn’t even like leaving Central City!

“The journey will not be arduous. I am programmed to be able to transport you to Oa instantaneously.” Len’s first instinct was to say that there was no way he was leaving Earth, but then he realized something. If he allowed the ring to take him to these Guardians of the Universe, they would realize that the ring—or maybe Abin Sur—had been damaged in the crash and chose the wrong guy. Then they would give the ring to someone who would actually make sense as a space cop—someone like the Flash—and Len could go back to his normal life.

“Then take me there.” There was a flash of green light, and Len suddenly found himself standing in front of a massive building, one that wasn’t like anything he had ever seen on Earth. He was also back in the green-and-black leotard, but he didn’t really mind wearing it for the sake of the trip that would allow him to get rid of it. 

After a few seconds of wondering if he should go inside the building or wait for the Guardians of the Universe to invite him in, he was approached by a huge creature with a face that kind of looked like a cross between a pig and a bulldog. He had to be at least eight feet tall, and Len was tensing himself for a fight when he noticed that the creature was wearing the same uniform that he was. The bulldog pig was a Green Lantern, just like Abin Sur had been. 

“Are you the new Green Lantern from Sector 2814? Abin Sur’s successor?” he asked. 

“I guess so, yeah. I…wasn’t exactly expecting to be chosen for the job,” Len replied.

“I’m Kilowog, the Green Lantern of Sector 674. I’m from the planet Bolovax Vik, and I’m here to take you to meet the Guardians of the Universe.” 

“Len. Len Snart. I’m from the planet Earth.” Kilowog’s face seemed to scrunch up.

“Your planet’s named ‘Dirt’?” Len shrugged. 

“I didn’t name the planet.” Kilowog laughed. 

“Well, it’s good to meet you—even if I am going to really miss Abin Sur. He was one of the best of us,” he said. 

“He seemed like a decent guy. Even if I’m not sure that he made the right choice for a successor,” Len replied. Kilowog nodded. 

“Every Lantern feels that way when they’re first chosen by the ring. I know I did. I thought, I’m a genetic scientist. What do I know about fighting criminals? It took me a while to get the hang of the job, but I managed—-with the help of my fellow Green Lanterns, of course. And now I’m an instructor for the rookies.” 

“Which is why you’re takin’ me to the Guardians?” 

“Exactly. So, what did you do on Earth before the ring chose you as a Green Lantern?”

“I knocked over liquor stores.” Kilowog’s mouth dropped open. 

“You’re a criminal?” 

“Look, I don’t understand it any more than you do. The best I can figure is that either Abin Sur got brain damage from the spaceship crash that did him in and didn’t realize what he was doing, or the ring itself got busted and chose the wrong guy,” Len replied. 

“Come on. The Guardians have to be informed of this right away,” Kilowog said. His cheerful demeanor from earlier was gone, and he practically dragged Len inside the building where the Guardians of the Universe were, presumably, hanging out. 

“Guardians, I think something went wrong in the selection of the new Lantern for Sector 2814,” Kilowog said as he and Len entered a large, circular room. 

“Explain yourself, Kilowog.” It took Len a few seconds to figure out where the voice was coming from, but once he did, he had to stop himself from laughing. Whatever he had expected the Guardians of the Universe to look like, it definitely hadn’t been a bunch of short blue men in robes. 

“Tell them who you are,” Kilowog snapped at Len. 

“My name’s Len Snart. I’m from the planet Earth, where Abin Sur crashed, and I think that the crash that killed him must’ve also damaged his tech or given him brain damage or something, because he chose me to be the next Green Lantern of Sector 2814.” The Guardians of the Universe looked confused. 

“And why do you and Kilowog believe that this means that a mistake was made?” 

“Because I’m an ex-con—a criminal. I’m not exactly space cop material. So either the ring is busted, and it made a mistake, or whatever injuries did in Abin Sur also caused him to misunderstand what the ring was tellin’ him,” Len replied. 

“The ring does not have the power to teleport you to Oa against your will. If you are a criminal as you say, then why did you come here with it? Why did you not simply use its power to enrich yourself?” It was a good question. Why hadn’t he just done that? 

Except for the fact that it would make him exactly like his father, of course. 

“Because my old man was a crooked cop, and I’d rather die than be anything like him. I’m not gonna stand here and pretend I’m anything other than a thug, but there’s stuff even I won’t stoop to,” Len replied. The little blue guys muttered to each other, and then one of them stepped forward, pulled out some kind of ray, and shot a beam of light at Len.

“The ring is undamaged,” he said. 

“Okay, so Abin Sur hurt his head durin’ the crash or somethin’. I don’t belong here. Send me back to Earth, and let the ring choose whoever was actually supposed to be Sector 2814’s new space cop,” Len replied. 

“You don’t seem to understand, Mr. Snart. There was no mistake. As improbable as it may seem, the ring has chosen you to be our newest Green Lantern.” 

“But–” Len and Kilowog said in unison. 

“Leonard Snart, you have served your time for your previous offenses, and you are not currently wanted for any new crimes. As such, you are in effect an ordinary citizen of your planet—and eligible to be deputized as a Green Lantern.” 

“But I’m not—” 

“If you are caught using your power illicitly, we will confiscate the ring and punish you accordingly, as we would with any other Green Lantern. But as the situation currently stands, you are the Green Lantern of Sector 2814,” the little blue alien said. 

“And I can’t, like, give the job to someone who deserves it? Someone who’d actually want to do it?” 

“Leonard Snart, when I scanned the ring, it informed me that you promised Abin Sur on his deathbed that you would take up the position of Green Lantern in order to atone for your past crimes. Are you going to renege on that promise now?” Len swore. He had promised to do the job—not just to Abin Sur, but basically to his grandfather as well. 

“I’ll always keep you safe, Lisa. I promise.” 

He had broken that promise by leaving Lisa alone with their father. 

He couldn’t break this one. 

Which meant that he, Leonard Snart, a lowdown thug who distrusted cops on the best of days, was going to become a space cop. 

How did he get himself into these situations?

“I did promise. So— I guess if you’re really sure you want me, I’ll take the job. I’ll be the Green Lantern of Sector 2814.” 

“Excellent. Welcome to the Green Lantern Corps, Leonard Snart.” 

“Don’t tell me you expect me to baby-sit an ex-convict,” Kilowog protested.

“We don’t expect you to baby-sit anyone—but we do expect you to help train our newest corpsmember,” the little blue guy replied. Kilowog groaned.

“Fine. But I’m going to be watching him like a hawk.” Then he turned to Len. 

“Follow me, poozer. It’s time for you to learn what being a Green Lantern is really all about,” he said. 

“Come again?” Len asked. 

“Kilowog is our drill sergeant, and will be responsible for teaching you how to utilize your ring,” the little blue guy explained. 

“Wait. Nobody said anything about any kind of boot camp. I can’t just up and disappear from Earth for six months or whatever! I got bills to pay,” Len protested. 

“Then you’d better learn fast. You promised Abin Sur that you were gonna become a Green Lantern, and if you wanna keep that promise, you gotta go through boot camp just like the rest of us,” Kilowog replied. He turned on his heels and started walking towards the door, and, after a few seconds, Len reluctantly trailed after him. 

“Okay, fine. I’m coming.” As much as he hated the idea of being away from Central City for any length of time, he had promised Abin Sur that he would do this space cop thing, so he was going to do the space cop thing. Besides, it wasn’t like he’d never had to put his life back together from scratch before. 

“Your first lesson is this: there’s no room for rogues in the Corps. You’re obviously not much for authority. That’s gonna change right now, or you’ll never get out of boot camp,” Kilowog said as the two of them walked out of the room and down a hallway. Len swore. This was gonna be a rough couple of weeks. 

“Oh, and if I catch you breaking a rule—any rule—I’ll bust you down to basics again. Even if you’re about to graduate.” 

“Gotcha. So, uh, if you don’t mind me asking—when do I get paid?” Kilowog laughed.

“Lanterns don’t get paid, poozer. Especially not during basic training.” Len didn’t think that that was very fair. Did the Green Lantern Corps really expect their space police to work for free? 

“How’m I supposed to support myself back on Earth if I ain’t getting paid?” Kilowog just laughed. 

“I give it a week before you wash out,” he said.

Len was going to make Kilowog eat those words. 

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

Len graduated from space cop boot camp in five and a half months. It wasn’t a record or anything like that—not least because Kilowog had meant it when he had told Len that he would bust him down to basics if he broke a rule—-but he hadn’t washed out, and he had actually completed his training well ahead of schedule. 

“I’ll give you this, poozer. You’ve gotta be the most persistent cadet I’ve ever trained,” Kilowog said as he handed Len what Len could only describe as a holographic diploma—which, now that he thought about it, was the first diploma he’d ever earned. 

“And you’re the biggest pain in the neck I’ve ever met—-but you’re a good teacher. Anybody who could steer me to a diploma’d have to be,” Len replied. As much as he hated to admit it, Kilowog had really grown on him over the past few months. 

It had helped that, unlike a lot of the other Lanterns, he’d been upfront about the fact that he didn’t trust Len one bit. Since Len knew that most of them didn’t really trust the ex-con in their ranks, he’d appreciated that Kilowog had the guts to be honest about it. 

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but you just might have what it takes to make Abin Sur proud,” Kilowog said as the two of them shook hands. 

“Careful. You’ll make him roll over in his grave,” Len snarked. Even if he had promised to make up for his past crimes—even though he was going to do it—-he knew that he was a thug at heart. He would never be good enough to be a real hero.

Kilowog laughed. 

“Good luck out there. The first week of patrol is always a doozy,” he said.

“Thanks. See you around, Kilowog,” Len said. One of the Guardians of the Universe floated up to them. 

“Are you prepared to return to Earth, Leonard Snart?” Len had tried to convince the little blue men to just call him “Len”, but had gotten nowhere. 

“Are you kidding? I can’t wait to get back to Central City!” Len exclaimed. Lisa was probably worried sick about him by now….

“In that case, you are free to begin your first patrol, Green Lantern of Sector 2814—and may good fortune go with you.” 

There was a flash of green light, and Len was back in Central City. 

“Home, sweet home.” 

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

The first thing Len did after arriving on Earth, besides using his ring to change back into civilian clothes, was call his little sister on the phone. 

“Lenny?” Lisa asked. 

“Yeah, sis. It’s me,” Len replied. 

“Where have you been? No one’s heard anything from you in six months!” Lisa exclaimed. Len wasn’t quite sure what to say. 

“Sorry for not calling for so long. I was…uh…out of town on a job,” he said. Saying “I was in space cop boot camp on another planet” wasn’t something you could casually drop into a conversation. 

“Out of town? What do you mean, out of town? You never leave Central City! I thought you were dead!” 

“I’m really sorry, sis. It’s just…things came up and—-well—I had to get out of dodge for awhile.” There was a snort—the Snart snort—on the other end of the line. 

“If you’re on the run from the cops, you can just say so, Lenny. It’s not like I don’t know you’re a criminal.”

“Actually, I’m not anymore,” Len said. 

“I gathered as much, seeing as you’re calling me. I guess the heat died down?”

“No, I mean I’m not a criminal anymore.” 

“Wait. When you said you had a job, you meant that you got an actual job?”

“Yeah.” 

“What kind of job is it?” Another question Len wasn’t sure how to answer. Saying “I got hired by a bunch of little blue aliens to be a space cop” sounded crazy, and there was no way she would believe that he had been hired to be a regular cop.

On the other hand, he was going to need a second job. One that actually paid a salary. So maybe he could just make up a job and then go get hired in that position before Lisa could find out he’d lied to her. 

As an ex-con. With a felony on his record. That was never going to happen. 

Telling the truth it was, then. 

“Okay, first of all, you have to believe me when I tell you I’m not crazy.”

“Because that’s exactly what people say when they aren’t crazy,” Lisa replied. It was at this point that Len realized that he actually had a way to prove his sanity. 

“Sis, where are you?”

“I’m in my apartment. The one I stay in when I’m not on tour. Why?” There was a flash of green light, and Len materialized in his sister’s apartment. 

“Hey, sis,” he said. 

“Lenny? How—-how did you—”

“It’s kind of a long story, but the gist of it is that an alien space cop called a Green Lantern crash landed on Earth. He was fatally wounded in the crash, so he did a sweep of the surrounding area, lookin’ for people who don’t scare easy, and came up with me. Then he teleported me to him, passed on his power battery and ring to me, and told me that the ring—-it’s some sort of super-advanced tech the Green Lanterns use—had chosen me to be the next space cop of Sector 2814, which is where Earth is. It seemed totally crazy, but he was dying and really really insistent that I had to replace him, so I…kind of promised him that I would do the whole space cop thing. And then he died. I thought for sure that he’d made a mistake, so I had the ring take me to the Guardians of the Universe, these little blue guys who run the Green Lantern Corps, to tell them that they needed to find a new space cop, and I was transported to a planet called Oa.” 

“You went to another planet?” Lisa asked. 

“Yeah. It’s the one where the Guardians of the Universe live.” 

“And you’re sure you’re not crazy?” 

“Could I teleport before?” 

“Okay, fair point. So what happened after you got there?” 

“I told the Guardians that the ring had made a mistake, and they said that it hadn’t. I’ve technically served my time for all the crimes I’ve committed, and I guess that made me eligible to be chosen. But before I could be a full-fledged Green Lantern, I had to go through space cop boot camp—and that’s basically where I’ve been for the past six months. But I passed. I’ve got a diploma and everything. I’m a deputized space cop now,” Len said. He pulled out his holographic diploma, and was surprised at how proud he felt to be able to show it to his sister. 

“That’s actually really cool. I’m so proud of you, Lenny!” Lisa exclaimed.

“Thanks.” 

“Do you have a uniform? What does it look like? Can I see it?” 

“Sure, sis.” The ring glowed, and his civvies were replaced by the Green Lantern uniform.

“Wow! You look great!” Lisa exclaimed. 

“I dunno. I’m not crazy about the skintight spandex…”

“Trust me, you pull it off.” 

“If you say so.” 

“So, how much money do you make as a space cop?” Lisa asked. 

“Well, that’s the one problem with the gig. Green Lanterns get fed and sheltered on Oa, but they don’t get paid. Which means that, since I ain’t about to live full-time on another planet, I’m gonna need a second job,” Len said. Lisa grinned. 

“I know the guy who owns Central City’s ice skating rink. He’s been talking about how they need someone to run the Zamboni for months. If I recommended you, I bet he’d take you on,” she said. Len smiled.

“Well, I’ve always liked the cold. If you really think he’d hire me…that’d be great.”

And two days later, the Green Lantern of Sector 2814 was hired to be the official Zamboni driver for Central City’s biggest ice skating rink. 

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

“In brightest day, in blackest night, no evil shall escape my sight. Let those who worship evil’s might beware my power—Green Lantern’s light!” The ring glowed brightly, and, now that it was fully charged, Len took off on his first official patrol. Since he had been out of the underworld loop for six months, he couldn’t exactly go chasing down specific crooks, so he was going to be limited to just sort of flying around and stopping whatever he came across, but he was definitely still  jumpy. This was his first day on the job, and he really didn’t want to make a total idiot out of himself.

And he really didn’t want to stumble across any of his former colleagues before he had some experience under his belt. Because running into them while he was still a rookie would be very awkward and might also result in him ending up very dead. 

“Guess nobody ever said this space cop thing would be easy,” he muttered to himself. 

The first hour or so of the patrol passed more or less uneventfully. Aside from some jaywalking, which wasn’t exactly the sort of evil that the power of a Green Lantern was intended to fight against, there’d been no sign of any trouble or anyone who was planning to commit a crime—and as an ex-con, Len was pretty good at spotting criminals who were trying to look casual before starting a job. 

He had been about to leave and head for a new city block when he suddenly heard a piercing scream coming from one of the apartment buildings. After using the ring to determine that the scream had come from an apartment on the third floor, he flew over to the window to see a man knock his wife to the ground. A little boy, no more than five years old, was standing nearby and sobbing. 

“Where were you today? Where were you?” the man screamed. 

“I was only at the grocery store, Ronald! I have the receipts—I can show you!” the woman pleaded. 

“Don’t lie to me! I know you were with another man! Who was it?” The little boy ran between his parents. 

“Daddy, please! Leave mommy alone!” he exclaimed. The man raised his hand, but before he could hit him, Len used the ring to open the window, and then to create an energy wall between the man and his son. 

“What the–?” the man asked. Len flew through the window and landed next to the man. 

“If you want a fight, why don’t you pick on somebody your own size?” he asked. 

“Who are you?” 

“Name’s Len. Len Snart. But to you, I’m the Green Lantern,” Len replied. 

“I don’t care if you’re the Flash. You ain’t got no right to interfere with my personal life.”

“Maybe not—but I ain’t gonna just stand by and let you knock your wife around and beat up your kid,” Len replied. 

“What I do in my own house in my own business.” 

“The man who slammed a beer bottle into my shoulder when I was twelve said the same thing. And I think you’re both full of crap,” Len said. He walked through his energy wall and extended a hand to the woman. 

“You okay?” The woman took his hand, and he pulled her to her feet. 

“I…I’m fine. You should go, really. Ronald isn’t normally…isn't normally like this. He’s just had a rough few days.” Len knew it was a lie. He remembered saying exactly the same thing to social workers as a kid.

 And he also knew that there probably wasn’t anything he could say or do to convince this woman to tell a stranger the truth. 

“All the same, I’m not gonna leave until I’m sure that you and the kid’ll be okay when I go,” he said. 

“If you don’t get outta my house, I’ll have you arrested for trespassing,” the man spat. Len laughed. 

“Go on, then. Call the cops. I’m sure they’ll be real interested to know why your wife’s got a black eye—and why you’ve got a bunch of dope and a sawed-off shotgun hidden under your couch.” Len knew from his own time as a crook that no small-timer in this situation would call the cops unless they were absolutely convinced that they were going to die. The chance of getting arrested alongside whoever was causing you the problem was way too high. 

Sure enough, Ronald didn’t call the cops. Instead, he pulled the shotgun out from underneath the couch and fired it over the energy wall—only for the bullet to be stopped by a red blur. A red blur that solidified into the Flash. 

“Somehow I doubt that you have a license for that gun,” he said. Len dropped the energy wall, and the Flash zipped over to Ronald and grabbed the shotgun out of his hands. Len took the opportunity to pin the guy to the wall with a glowing green clamp. 

“Nice work. I didn’t know there was another superhero in Central City,” the Flash said.

“I’m…uh…kinda new to the job. I only became the Green Lantern of Sector 2814 a couplea months ago, and I basically just got out of boot camp.” 

“The… Green Lantern?” the Flash echoed. 

“Yeah, a Green Lantern. A space cop. There’s one for every sector of space, and they’re run by these little blue guys who call themselves the Guardians of the Universe. Abin Sur was the last Green Lantern of this sector of the universe—2814—and since he died on Earth, he passed the ring on to me, ‘cause I ain’t afraid of much and I don’t pretend to be anything other’n what I am. Or somethin’ like that. I’m still half-convinced the stupid thing was busted when it chose me, but hey, what’re ya gonna do? Somebody has to do the job, and I did promise the guy I’d do it,” Len replied. 

“Well, it’s nice to meet you. What brought you to this apartment? I came running because I heard the shotgun blast, but you were obviously here before he pulled that out,” Flash asked. 

“I heard a scream comin’ from the buildin’, so I flew up to the window to see what was goin’ on. When I looked inside, I saw our pal over there knockin’ his wife around in front of his kid. The kid ran over to try an’ protect his mom, and I stopped the creep with an energy wall just before he could slap his son around too. He started givin’ me all the usual crap about how I should get out and mind my own business, and when I told him I wasn’t gonna just fly off and let him go back to beatin’ up women and little kids, he pulled the shotgun on me. Thanks for the save, by the way,” Len replied. The Flash looked horrified. 

“He was going to hit his own child?” Len nodded. 

“Hate to say it, but it happens all the time. My old man broke my arm when I was about that kid’s age,” he said. The Flash’s mouth dropped open. 

“My parents never hit me. I…I couldn’t even imagine.” Funny. Len could barely imagine what it was like to have parents who didn’t hit you.

“Not even when you acted up?” 

“No. Never.” 

“You’re lucky, then.” 

“Do you mind if I run this criminal to CCPD Headquarters? I can get him there faster than you probably can, but I can understand if you want to get the credit for stopping him. You did most of the work, after all,” the Flash asked. 

“I don’t mind. I figure if I keep up this space cop gig long enough, I’ll end up with more credit than I know what to do with. So go ahead and take him,” Len replied. The Flash disappeared, and then reappeared about a minute later. 

“Sorry it took so long. I had to tell the police what I’d arrested him for,” he explained. Then he turned to the woman. 

“Are you all right, miss? Is there anything I can do for you?” The woman responded by bursting into tears. 

“You’ve done enough! What are Andy and I supposed to do without Robert? He was the only one bringing in any money!” she cried. From the look on Flash’s face, it was clear that he hadn’t been expecting that reaction.

“Before you ask, that ain’t uncommon either. It’s part of why women like my mom don’t call the cops on the guys who beat ‘em up—-they ain’t got the education or the money to make ends meet as single moms,” Len said quietly. Instead, he pulled out his wallet, fished out some fifty dollar bills, and handed them to the woman. 

“Will this be enough to hold you over for awhile?” he asked. As much as he would miss his baseball tickets—and his beer—he’d be alright without the cash. And if he was going to do this whole hero thing, he might as well do it all the way. 

The woman looked up at him suspiciously. 

“What’s the catch? What do you want? I…I won’t testify against Robert. I…I can’t,” she said.

“No catch, lady. Just take care of yourself—and your kid.” The woman gave him a weak smile.

“Where do you work?” the woman asked. 

“At the big downtown ice rink. I keep the place in shape—and run the Zamboni,” he replied. 

“Then I’ll swing by once a week and bring you some of my fried chicken. Everyone says it’s the best in the neighborhood.”  Len grinned.

 “That’d be great. See you soon.” Len looked over to the Flash, who looked like he was going through his own pockets, and put his hand on his shoulder. 

“I know what you’re thinkin’, but don’t. If you give her money, it’ll embarrass her.” The Flash gave him a bit of a strange look. 

“You gave her money.” 

“I can get away with it. I’m a poor high school dropout too. She can repay me, one way or the other. But from you it’d be charity,” Len explained. The Flash nodded and stopped going through his pockets. 

“Miss, is there anything else you need?” he asked. 

“No. We’ll be fine. And—I’m sorry about yelling at you earlier. It’s just…I married Robert when I was seventeen, right after we both dropped out. He told me that he would take care of me, and that I didn’t need to work, and—and—I was just so scared of the thought of not having his support for Andy,” the woman said.

“I understand. You were worried about your son, and I definitely forgive you.” Then the Flash turned to Len. 

“If you’re okay with it, I can get the two of us back on the streets in a flash.” 

“Sure. Why not?” There was a rush of light not too different from the one Len saw when the ring teleported him, and then he and the Flash were standing outside of the apartment building. 

“You know, Green Lantern, while I don’t think that woman is any threat, I’m not sure if you should go around telling people where you work as a civilian. If that information starts circulating, criminals might get a hold of it and use it to go after you when you’re off the clock—or worse, to go after your loved ones.” Len shrugged. 

“I appreciate the concern, but seein as I ain’t married, I don’t got kids, my sister’s an ice skater who spends most of her time touring the country under a stage name, my mom’s been AWOL for years, and my old man’s on the Candy Man’s payroll, I don’t figure I’ve got too much to worry about. I can take care of myself pretty well, even without the fancy ring,” he said.  

“If Green Lantern rings are awarded on the basis of fearlessness, I can see how you earned one,” the Flash replied. 

“Don’t give me too much credit. Anybody’d be fearless after a childhood of bein’ smacked around by their father and a couple of years fightin’ off wannabe cell block kings in state prison. You survive that and there’s not much that’ll scare you anymore.” 

“Wait. You’ve been to prison?” the Flash asked. 

“Uh-huh. Did two years for robbin’ a drug store on Fifth and Main, thanks to a certain red blur,” Len replied. The Flash’s eyes widened. 

“That gang—the one with the glasses that let them intercept police radio bands! I thought those green glasses you’re wearing looked familiar!” he exclaimed. 

“You got a good memory.”

“Who are you?” Len snorted. 

“Weren’t you just goin’ on about how I shouldn’t be tellin’ people about myself?” 

“That was before I knew you were a criminal!” 

“I was a criminal—but I ain’t one now. I wasn’t lying when I said I worked at the ice rink. Or about the space cop thing, for that matter.” 

“You’ll forgive me if I’m a bit wary to trust someone I know I put behind bars, and who therefore has a good reason to hold a grudge against me.” Len sighed. Well, it wasn’t like he actually cared if anyone knew who the Green Lantern really was. 

“Name’s Len. Len Snart,” he said. 

“Leonard Snart, then. You’re twenty-five years old. Arrested six times, convicted four times. You spent three months in jail for getting caught with burglar’s tools when you were eighteen, eight months in jail for stealing a fairly cheap necklace, starting when you were nineteen, another eight months in jail for stealing a couple hundred dollars from a liquor store, starting when you were twenty-one, and then two years in prison for robbing a drug store, starting at twenty-two.” 

“And you’re either a cop, a lawyer, or a warden, because nobody else knows that much about the criminal record of some cheap thug,” Len replied. 

“How in the world did you get deputized as a police officer, in space or otherwise?” Len shrugged. 

“I have no idea. I told ‘em I was an ex-con—repeatedly, because I wasn’t originally too keen on the whole space cop idea—-but they said that since I’d served my time for the old crimes, and hadn’t committed any new ones, I could be a Green Lantern. And since I’d promised the dying Green Lantern who passed me the ring that I’d go straight and take up the job, well—I decided I had to do it. I have all the paperwork and everything if you wanna see it.” 

“So you aren’t going to try to put me six feet under for sending you to prison?” 

“Even if I was still a criminal,  I wouldn’t be tryin’ to put you six feet under for sending me to prison. No crook needs the kinda heat killin’ a cape brings down on you. It’d be like killin’ a cop—maybe even worse.” 

“A… cape?” 

“Yeah. That’s what crooks—-at least the low-level ones—call costumed heroes. Capes,” Len replied. 

“And you’re serious about turning over a new leaf?” 

“If you’d asked me if I’d ever say this a year ago, I’d have laughed in your face—but yeah. I’m turnin’ over a new leaf,” Len replied. The Flash grinned. 

“You have no idea how glad I am to hear that. It’s a nice change of pace to know a person I arrested is changing for the better instead of plotting ways to kill me.” 

“And you’re sure you don’t mind havin’ an ex-con runnin’ around playin’ super-hero in your city?” 

“It’s not my city. You live here, too. In my mind, that makes it our city—and if you really do want to help people, I’m certainly not about to stop you. Even a man as fast as I am can’t be everywhere at once.”

“Guess that makes us allies, then.” The Flash nodded. 

“It does—and, although I really hate to run off on you, I think I’d better get going. I have a date at 8:00 PM sharp, and my girlfriend will be furious if I’m late again.” 

“Then I hope you’ve got the money to buy her a nice gift, ‘cause it’s 8:25.” 

“It is?” 

“Almost 8:26. Do you not own a watch?” 

“Several, actually, but somehow it doesn’t seem to help.” Len shook his head. 

“Good luck with your girlfriend—-and hey, I guess I’ll be seein’ you around.” 

“Good-bye, Green Lantern, and stay safe. With any luck, I’ll be seeing you in the newspapers before too long,” the Flash said. Then he disappeared in, well, a flash. Len smiled. 

“Who woulda thought I’d ever work with the Flash?”

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

The Flash turned out to be right about the newspaper thing. Less than a week into his career as Green Lantern, Len stopped a crowded bus from crashing into a restaurant when its brakes went out, and suddenly his face was all over the newspapers—-and the TV channels, too. 

“Lenny, you’re famous!” Lisa exclaimed over the phone. She was in New York City with her ice skating company and had seen the reports about the rescue on the news. 

“I…uh…kinda noticed,” Len replied. 

“Everyone’s talking about Central City’s new superhero, even here in New York. And I swear, half of the people who skate for Futura want to know if I can get them your autograph,” Lisa said. 

“They ain’t the only ones. It’s getting a little overwhelming to go out in costume during the day, what with all the fans and all.” Lisa gave the Snart snort. 

“Welcome to the limelight.” 

“You got any tips for dealing with this sorta stuff?” 

“Of course. You’ve come to the right place, big brother.” 

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

After a year and a half of being the Green Lantern, Len fought one of the Flash’s supervillains for the first time. While Len fought crime in Central City whenever he was on Earth, since he was the Green Lantern of all of Sector 2814, he had to be off in space a lot to fight off alien invasions and to help stop crime and natural disasters on the other planets in his sector. Because of this, the costumed criminals—who had started showing up within a few months of his debut as Green Lantern—spent most of their time fighting the Flash. 

He was patrolling Morrow Street, waiting for the weekly drug-related shootout to start, when the window of a nearby grocery store suddenly warped and twisted, and a man carrying a pretty good-sized bag of loot, and wearing an orange-and-green costume, stepped out of it. As he looked at the guy—the Mirror Master, if he was remembering right—Len found himself revising his opinion of his Green Lantern uniform. He still thought the spandex looked stupid, but at least it wasn’t orange and green.

Len used his ring to create a giant green claw, and used it to grab the bag of loot from the Mirror Master, who let out a cry of surprise. 

“Green Lantern?” 

“That’s right. And from what the Flash has told me, you must be the Mirror Master.” The Mirror Master smirked. 

“The one and only.” Len tried to remember the supervillain’s civilian name, but couldn’t come up with anything. Whoever he was, though, he was very cocky—cockier than Len had ever been as a crook. 

“How long you been out of prison?” 

“A few weeks. State prison’s a nice place to visit, but I wouldn’t want to live there. So I arranged an early parole for myself. How long have you been back in Central City? Last I heard, you were in space,” the Mirror Master replied. 

“I got homesick, so after I stopped a flood on Agraria 7, I made my way back to Earth. I’ve been here for a couple days now,” Len said. 

“And you’re wasting your vacation on stopping me?” Mirror Master asked. 

“You surrender quietly, and that’ll open up a lot of free time for both of us,” Len replied. The Mirror Master laughed. 

“I appreciate the offer, but I’m afraid I’ll have to decline. I don’t want the kind of free time I’ll end up with if I surrender,” he said. He pulled out a strange-looking prism, and, when Len fired a beam at it in the hopes of knocking it out of his hands, the prism didn’t just reflect the beam back—it split the beam into a rainbow of seven differently-colored light beams, all of which shot in Len’s direction. Len automatically threw up a shield, and realized a second too late that the yellow beam wouldn’t be blocked by the shield. This beam hit him square in the chest and sent him hurtling towards the ground. He managed to save himself from colliding with the ground by quickly creating a giant pile of green blankets, but the impact was still enough to knock the wind out of him—and to send the Mirror Master’s bag of loot flying out of his hands.

“My prism shield works even better against your Green Lantern beam than I predicted it would!” the Mirror Master exclaimed. As Len struggled to regain his breath and get back on his feet, Mirror Master pulled out another device, and suddenly there were dozens of Mirror Masters.

“As much as I’d love to stick around and engage you in a battle of light manipulation, I have places to go and jewelry to fence. So…catch me if you can!” All of the Mirror Masters started moving at once. Len blasted several to pieces, then realized that he was being stupid. If he wanted to catch the Mirror Master, all he had to do was command the ring to find the real one. 

“Mind findin’ the actual human in all those reflections?” he asked. A few seconds later, a green light appeared over one of the Mirror Masters. He was one of many who seemed to be carrying the bag of loot. He didn’t want to take any more chances with the prism shield, so instead, he grabbed the Mirror Master from behind with a giant green hand. The Mirror Master reached for what was probably another weapon he had hidden on his costume, but before he could get to it, Len ordered the ring to create a pair of green handcuffs around his wrists. Then, just to be on the safe side, he also ordered the ring to remove any hidden weapons from the costume. A few seconds later, an improbable number of mirrors, prisms, and ray guns were floating in the air, suspended in green bubbles. How in the world did the Mirror Master manage to fit that much stuff in such a skintight costume? 

Len then used the ring to lower the Mirror Master, his loot, and all of the confiscated weapons back to the ground. As soon as his feet touched the ground, the giant hand vanished, but the handcuffs remained, and the weapons continued to float in their green bubbles. 

“How’s that for light manipulation?” he asked as he started floating the weapons down to the ground. 

“Don’t break any of the mirrors! Don’t you know that’ll bring seven years’ bad luck?” the Mirror Master shrieked as one of the mirrors hit the ground. Len snorted. 

“It must really suck for somebody who fights using mirrors to be superstitious about breakin’ ‘em,” he said. The Mirror Master continued to struggle against the cuffs—and then, all of a sudden, his costume gave off such a bright light that even Len, with his goggles that were designed to filter out excess light, was nearly blinded. 

The costume was gimmicked—which meant that he needed to get it off of the Mirror Master before he got away. There was a flare of green light, and then Len could see again. Although since the first thing he saw was the Mirror Master wearing nothing but a gray undershirt, blue socks, and yellow polka-dotted underwear (seriously?), he wasn’t totally sure that was actually a good thing. 

“What did you do? Where’s my costume?” the Mirror Master screamed. 

“You were blinding me with it, so I told the ring to get it off of you. Believe me, I’m regretting it as much as you are. Who wears polka-dotted underwear?” 

“It was on sale!” As the initial shock of seeing the Mirror Master in nothing but his underclothes wore off, Len started to focus on the younger man’s features, which he could now see a lot more clearly. Perfectly styled brown hair, big brown eyes, ski-jump nose—-wait. He’d seen this face before, and not just on wanted posters. 

“And give me my costume back! You can’t drag me to CCPD Headquarters in my underclothes at two in the afternoon. I’d never be able to live that down.” 

“Sam? Sam Scudder?”

“Of course I’m Sam Scudder! It’s not like my identity’s a secret. Now give me my costume back!” 

The Mirror Master’s identity might not have been a secret, but it was news to Len. Apparently, while he’d been off in space, the pretty boy he’d had to save from getting shivved when they were in prison together had become a supervillain. 

“Do you remember a guy named Len Snart, by any chance?” he asked. Sam looked at him with obvious confusion. 

“Yeah, I remember him. He was in prison with me while I was serving my sentence for robbery, and he saved my life while he was there. If he ever shows up again, I owe him a favor—but why do you care about that?” 

  Len let the glasses vanish from his face. He was sure the Flash would probably blow a blood vessel in his brain if he saw him doing this, but hey—it wasn’t like his identity was a secret, either. 

“Because you’ve found him. It’s been a long time, Sam,” he said awkwardly. After a full thirty seconds of staring in open-mouthed shock, Sam finally found his voice. 

“The Green Lantern is an ex-con? An ex-con that I know?” 

“Uh, yeah.” 

“How did a convicted felon end up as part of the space police?” Sam asked. 

“I get asked that a lot. And I still have no idea,” Len replied. There was an awkward pause. 

“So, what’s it like working on the other side of the fence?”

“A lot more rewarding than I thought it’d be.” It was true. Even though he had promised to become a good guy, Len had initially assumed that it wouldn’t be very much fun. He had been wrong. Sure, there were still days—a lot of days, really—where he missed the rush of living by his wits, outwitting the cops, and taking whatever he felt like, but that rush paled in comparison to how good it felt to know that what he was doing was saving lives. To know that his sister could finally be proud of her big brother, and that his grandfather would be happy to see how he had turned out. 

“Rewarding?” Sam echoed. 

“Yeah. You probably won’t listen to me, because I wouldn’t have before I got a wake-up call in the form of a literal crashing spaceship, but—turnin’ over a new leaf and goin’ straight’s the best thing you can do for yourself—not to mention for everyone around you,” Len replied. A dark look spread across Sam’s face. 

“You want me to do what you did? Give up crime and become some sort of superhero?” he asked. 

“Why not? If I can do it, somebody with a brain like yours would have no problem.” Sam shook his head. 

“Because I know what being a superhero gets you in the end. It gets you killed.” 

“Is that a threat?” Len asked. 

“From me? No. Never. I owe you my life—and I’m not one for killing anyhow. It would take the glamor out of being the Mirror Master.” 

“Then why’d you say it?”

“As a warning.” 

“You got a funny way of warning people, Sam.”  The Mirror Master cocked his head and seemed to ponder something. 

“This isn’t working. So let’s try this. Since you’re determined to hear what I said as a threat, take it as a threat from the rest of the underworld. There are plenty of them who don’t have the standards that I have. If you keep interfering with them, eventually one of them will kill you. Growing up under the Candy Man’s thumb taught me that.” 

“I ain’t afraid of the Candy Man,” Len replied. 

“I know. You aren’t afraid of anything, if what I understand about the Green Lantern ring is true. But you should be. I don’t want to watch anyone else I know get killed playing hero.” 

“I’ll be careful. I always am. Now, let’s get you to CCPD before—” 

“Green Lantern! Green Lantern! How did you capture the Mirror Master?” 

“Before the paparazzi shows up,” Len muttered. As the cameras flashed, Sam’s cheeks went bright red, and he darted behind Len. The Mirror Master was still going to be on the front page of the newspaper in his underclothes tomorrow, but Len couldn’t really blame him for wanting to hide. 

“So, you know how I said I wasn’t going to kill you?” Sam hissed. 

“Yeah,” Len replied. 

“I meant it. But that doesn’t mean I’m not going to make things very difficult for you if we ever fight again.” 

“Hey, don’t blame me for this. If you had surrendered quietly when I asked, this wouldn’t have happened.” Sam gave out a sad little whine. 

“I’m going to be the laughingstock of the underworld…” 

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

Len had thought he had done a good job at keeping in touch with Lisa. Over the seven years he had been the Green Lantern, he’d visited her every time they were both in Central City, attended at least four of her shows every year, and talked to her on the phone at least once a month. 

“I don’t care if he’s your partner, Lenny! I want the Flash to suffer—the way I suffered when he killed my boyfriend!” 

Len was starting to get the feeling that he hadn’t done quite as good a job of keeping in touch as he had thought. 

“You have a boyfriend? You never mentioned him before.” 

“I couldn’t tell you, because I knew you wouldn’t approve.” Len sighed. 

“Lisa, I’m an ex-con. Who exactly were you dating that I would have had a leg to stand on in terms of disapprovin’ of him?” 

“Roscoe Dillon—but you probably know him better as the Top,” Lisa said. Len’s mouth dropped open. 

“As in the supervillain who died of a brain aneurysm a few weeks ago? That Top?” Lisa nodded. Well, that explained why Lisa had thought he would disapprove. Even aside from being a supervillain, the Top had been a stuck-up snob—one who was freakishly obsessed with tops. Of all the Flash’s supervillains, he was one of the last ones Len would have wanted his sister to date. 

“Yes. Flash’s vibrations induced Roscoe’s aneurysm the last time they fought. He killed my boyfriend—and I’m going to make him pay!” Lisa shrieked. 

“Lisa, it was an accident. You know it was an accident. Nobody could’ve ever guessed that—” 

“What I know is that my Roscoe is dead because of him!” 

“It was an accident! If I had killed somebody accidentally, would you want their girlfriend to kill me?” Len asked. Lisa’s eyes narrowed. 

“Lenny, I didn’t come here for you to talk me out of this. I’m here to warn you to stay out of my way,” she said. 

“I can’t do that, Lisa.” 

“What do you mean, you can’t do that?”

“The Flash is my friend, and he’s a good man. I understand you’re upset about your boyfriend, but—I can’t let you kill him because he accidentally caused a supervillain to die.” Lisa burst into tears.

“Lenny, you don’t understand! I need this! I need to make him pay! Revenge is all I have left, now that Roscoe’s dead and you’re gone all the time!” Len swallowed hard. 

“Lisa, please. If you attack the Flash, I’ll have to arrest you. I don’t want to have to do that. I don’t wanna send my little sister to prison,” Lisa’s eyes went wide with shock.

“You’d side with the Flash over your own sister?”

“If it means keepin’ my friend alive? And keepin’ you from becomin’ a murderer? I have to,” he replied. 

“You promised you would always protect me! Are you going to break that promise again?” The words twisted like a knife in Len’s gut. 

“I promised I would protect you, and I will. I’ll never leave you alone again. But that don’t mean I’ll stand by and let you kill an innocent man!” 

“So that’s how it is, is it? You’re going to choose your cop friend over me?” Lisa demanded. 

“No, Lisa. But I’m not gonna choose you over him either.” The look of icy hatred in Lisa’s eyes sent a shiver down Len’s spine. 

“You’re just like our father. So I’ll tell you what I told him the last time I saw him. If I ever see you again, I’ll kill you.” 

As Lisa turned on her heel and walked away, Sam’s voice echoed in Len’s mind. 

“Since you’re determined to hear what I said as a threat, take it as a threat from the rest of the underworld. There are plenty of them who don’t have the standards that I have. If you keep interfering with them, eventually one of them will kill you.” 

Len hadn’t been afraid of that prospect at the time. But back then, he had never thought that his sister would be one of the crooks trying to kill him.

He was more than scared now. He was terrified. 

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

Lisa was a Snart. When she attacked the Flash, Len had shown up to stop her—and she had kept her word. She tried to kill him, and, even though she hadn’t succeeded, she’d killed a part of him all the same when she’d forced him to fight against the little sister he’d only ever wanted to protect. 

It wasn’t quite enough to make him wish he’d never taken up the superhero gig, not with all the good he’d done, but it was still awful. His little sister was in prison, and she wanted him dead. How was he supposed to move on from that? 

Suddenly, one of the mirrors in his apartment warped and twisted, and the Mirror Master stepped out. 

“If you’ve changed your mind about killing me, go ahead. You’ll never have a better chance than now,” Len said weakly.

“I’m not going to kill you. You’re a pain in the neck, and your constant attempts to get me to reform and put myself in the line of fire are really getting old—but I still owe you my life. And for what it’s worth, I’m really sorry about what happened with your sister. You didn’t deserve that,” Sam said. 

“Why’re you here, Sam?” 

“I’m here to tell you that I’m going to try to keep an eye on your sister and make sure she doesn’t get into too much trouble–either while she’s in prison or when she escapes. Because you know she’s going to. She’s a Snart, just like you.” 

“I don’t know if that’s such a good idea. She tried to kill me when I got in her way, and I’m her brother. I don’t think she’d even pause before killin’ you.”

  “Who said anything about getting in her way? I’m no hero, and I’m not about to try to stop her. I’m just going to tip you off if she needs help—or, more likely, if she’s coming after you and you need to be on guard,” Sam replied. 

“Well—thanks, then. But this don’t mean I’m gonna just let you go the next time I catch you stealin’ somethin’,” Len said. Sam laughed.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way. Without you and the Flash, life would be far too easy—which is why I’m not actually here.” Sam suddenly shattered into a million pieces on Len’s floor. Len swore. 

Another mirror duplicate. 

A few minutes later, there was a knock at the door, and Len went over and opened it. The Flash was standing on the other side, holding a gallon of Len’s favorite chocolate crunch ice cream. 

“I…I understand if you don’t want company right now, but I wanted to check in on you just in case you did. And bring you that ice cream you like,” he said. 

“Come on in. I could probably use the company—and I could definitely use your speed to help me clean up the mess my last guest left me with,” Len replied. The Flash glanced over to the pile of glass that had been the Mirror Master duplicate. 

“I take it the Mirror Master dropped by?” he asked.

“The guy can make holographic images that vanish without leavin’ a trace. Why does he always insist on sendin’ mirror duplicates that break into pieces when he wants to talk to me without gettin’ caught?” Len replied. The Flash promptly zipped over to the pile of glass, and after only a few seconds, all the glass was stored in some plastic bags and the bags were in Len’s trash can. 

“Thanks.” 

“It was nothing. Where should I put the ice cream?”

“The mini fridge is—” There was a red blur, and Len just barely saw the fridge door open and close. 

“You ever thought about hirin’ yourself out as a pizza delivery guy? You’d make a mint.” 

“If I ever lose my job as a police scientist, I’ll keep that in mind,” the Flash replied. Then he actually pulled off his mask, to reveal a blonde man with bright blue eyes. He was a lot better-looking than Len had ever been, and if he hadn’t known how desperate the Flash was to keep his identity a secret, he would’ve wondered why the guy even bothered to wear the mask. 

“My name’s Barry Allen, and I work for the CCPD’s forensics lab.” 

“You’re giving up your secret identity? Why now?” Len asked.

“Because you just risked your life to protect me from your own sister. If that wasn’t enough to earn my complete trust, I don’t know what else would be.” Len was suddenly struck by a horrible revelation. 

“Wait a minute. If you’re Barry Allen, then when Lisa was goin’ after Iris West-Allen, she was goin’ after your wife,” Len said. Barry nodded. 

“I’m afraid so. Len—I’m so sorry.” 

“You’re sorry? What are you sorry for? I’m the one who should be apologizin’! My sister was tryin’ to murder you and your missus!” 

“She tried to kill you, too. I know how much you love your sister—-and I can’t even imagine what it would be like to have my own sister try to kill me,” Barry replied. 

And suddenly the dam broke, and Len found himself crying for the first time in decades. 

When the tears finally ran out, he looked up at Barry wearily. 

“The funny thing is, the worst part wasn’t her tryin’ to kill me. It was when she looked me in the eye and told me that I was just like our old man. You…you know what he was like. That’s how much my sister hates me,” he said.

“You know, Len, if you wanted to stop operating as a superhero in Central City, I wouldn’t blame you. I can’t ask you to risk getting killed by your own sister.” For a second, Len seriously considered it. 

But then he thought about the people he’d saved, and the friends he’d made, and decided against it. As much as he loved his sister, and as much as he hated the idea of having to fight her again, he couldn’t leave Central City in the lurch. 

“You ain’t gettin’ rid of me that easily. Central City’s my home as much as it is yours, and I ain’t gonna abandon it just ‘cause things got tough for me.” 

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

Len had been Green Lantern for ten years when the Flash—Barry Allen— died saving the universe. 

The mantle didn’t sit vacant long. Barry Allen’s sidekick, Wally West, took up the job. He was still just a kid—barely twenty—and, though he’d had a good amount of experience as Kid Flash, that wasn’t quite the same thing as being the Flash in his own right. 

Which was why Len had to spend a lot of time giving the kid pointers—pointers which he more often than not ignored, and then fell flat on his face. 

If a thuggish ex-con like him had managed to become the Green Lantern, he had no doubt that the kid would be able to make his mentor proud one day—but sometimes that day seemed really far off. 

After an exhausting few hours of trying to referee a fight that had broken out between the kid and his current girlfriend, a police officer named Julie Jackam, Len was sitting at home and eating his chocolate crunch ice cream when there was a knock on his door. He took the ice cream with him as he opened the door–and nearly dropped it when he saw his sister on the other side. 

“Hi, Lenny. It’s been a long time,” she said. She looked older and wearier than he remembered her looking, but since she had spent the last three years in and out of prison and on increasingly-crazy revenge attempts, that probably wasn’t too surprising. He knew from personal experience—-a decade ago or not, some memories stuck with you—how exhausting being a crook could be. 

“Lisa?” he asked.

“I think this is the part where you close the door in my face. I tried to kill you, Lenny.” 

“Why are you here, sis?” Len asked. Lisa sighed. 

“I’ve spent the past three years trying to make the Flash suffer for hurting me. And now he’s dead, and I’ve got nothing to show for it. I’ve thrown away my skating career and my clean record, and I’ve burned every bridge I ever had—-and Roscoe’s still dead. I…I don’t know where to go from here, and, well—you’re the only person I know who might be able to tell me what to do next. Not that I expect you to after I tried to kill you,” she said. Len gave her a small smile. He didn’t know if he’d ever be able to trust Lisa the way that he once had—it was really hard to go back to baseline after someone tried to kill you—but Lisa was still his little sister, and he was very glad to have her back. 

“Lisa, I promised I’d always look after you. And I’m gonna keep that promise.” 

“You shouldn’t. Lenny—I was horrible to you.” 

“Can’t argue with that. But I ain’t got a lot of room to throw stones when it comes to bein’ a criminal,” Len replied. 

“You never did anything like what I did.” 

“I never had someone I love die like you did, either. If you’d died while I was still a crook, I hate to think what I might’ve done.”

“This was a bad idea. I should go.” Lisa turned to leave, and Len used his ring to make a green stop sign appear in front of her.

“We’ve already lost each other twice, sis. Once because I made a bad call, and once because you did. I don’t want us to lose each other again,” he said. Lisa spun back around. 

“You can’t save everybody, Lenny.”

“I know. But I’d be a pretty lousy superhero if I didn’t try to save my own sister. Want some ice cream?” Lisa gave him a small smile. 

“Is it chocolate chunk?” 

“It’s always chocolate chunk.” 

The two of them were sitting together on Len’s couch, eating the last of the ice cream, when Wally suddenly came flying into the room through the door Len had forgotten to close. And for some reason, he was in nothing but his boxers. 

“How did Uncle Barry do this?” he asked. 

“Is that the new Flash? He’s kind of cute,” Lisa said.  Wally’s face went as red as his hair. 

“Who’s she?” he asked. 

“I’m Green Lantern’s crazy sister. My name’s Lisa Snart, but you probably know me as the Golden Glider,” Lisa said. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. 

“Wow. You’re even more gorgeous up close,” Wally said. Len groaned. The last thing he needed was for Wally to decide to strike up a romance with his sister. That would only end horribly for both of them—not to mention Julie Jackam. 

“Kid, focus! Why the heck are you runnin’ around in your boxers and nothin’ else?” Wally sighed. 

“It’s Dr. Alchemy! He’s back!” “Which one? Dr. Albert Desmond and Mr. Element, or the creepy gremlin?” 

“The gremlin. He transmuted my costume into oxygen in front of everybody, and now  the whole city thinks I’m a total idiot!” 

“In that case, kid, maybe you should—” 

And Wally was gone. 

“This must be some sort of cosmic payback for the headaches I used to give Kilowog,” Len muttered. 

Still, he wasn’t surprised when Wally found a way to triumph over Dr. Alchemy a few hours later. 

“Kid’s got the makings of a great hero in him. He just needs to slow down and learn how to control that temper of his.” Lisa smiled. 

“Well, if anyone would know what it takes to make a great hero, it would be you, Lenny.”

[littleblueberryartist]

slides into inbox. hands you a blue cupcake

may i ask about any silly grover cor silvam lore or shenanigans :3

Hi yes hello thank you for the blue cupcake :)))

Silly Grover facts!!!

- He and Brock both have a shared special interest in animals (Brock had it first and then dragged Grover down with him) but where Brock loves bugs he loves birds

- ironically he is afraid of heights

- He studies healing magic! It's a tough magic type to master but he is smart and also very determined

- You wouldn't expect it, but he knows a few defensive magic spells because mom got understandably protective over him after his twin vanished

- He's just like me fr and needs reminders to go eat food. In the timeline where Brock never got eebied he uses reminding Brick to eat as his own cue to eat too. In the main timeline he sets alarms and uses school lunchtime as a routine. Cecilia (Mom) also calls him for meals

- Grover is a writer and an artist, though he focuses more on writing. He's kind of anxious and insecure because of his magic, especially without Brock there to support him, and uses writing as a creative outlet. That eventually became a hobby!

Yes this does mean that he partakes in fandom culture (Something something fanfiction about people with no powers bc in CS almost everyone has magic so what if the fiction switched things around lol)

He used to draw a lot with Brock :)

[littleblueberryartist]

AAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!

BORTH UPON ME THANK YOU SM LANTERNNNNNNN 💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞

happy borth @littleblueberryartist :]

[fountainpenguin]

"And the women, they all pity me... because I'm married, but not in love! Frozen at the center...?" (x)

---

New Dog's Life chapter today! ~ 3rd Life series fan-season

Chapter 20 - “Sizzle (Grian, Scar)”

❤️ Read on AO3

💛 Start from Chapter 1

💚 More Pixels Imperfect fics

---

Grian makes plans to set SnifferMyFeet up on a date, then buys some very special bread. Scar comes home to a wrecked apartment and confronts the gingerbread-loving demon in his closet. Just your average Traffic SMP fanfic- nothing to see here.

(First 1,000 words under the cut)

---

Grian

Status: Dear, bewildered, and awkward

💙  🧡  💚

Grian leaves a very special cloak hanging in the closet of Lounge 3LF specifically for full moon nights. It's black and heavy. Not at all as flamboyant as he'd like, and decorations would certainly make it more fun. The biggest thing that mars the inky blackness is the giant red symbol on the back: a circle with a slash down the center. More red marks, spaced a few centimeters apart, wrap the hems of his sleeves. He's got one on each shoulder too, and it's really not flattering…

… but the stifling, peculiar nature of it is really the whole point. It's a full moon tonight, you know.

Grian wraps it around his shoulders and clicks the silver clasp at the front. The thick cloak is padded (on the off chance anyone nips him with teeth or claws). It's not armor, but he can't use his wings like this. It'd be a massive liability in a fight, but it dulls the color and rustle of his feathers, and it's excellent at diverting the eye of anyone who's out tonight seeking visual or auditory courting cues.

TwoMuchGrian's still fussing with his feathers, scowling in the mirror. Pearl and Jimmy don their black and red cloaks in turn. Martyn, for the first time Grian can remember, struts from the lobby without one. Grian tries not to notice anybody else. He flips up the hood, smothering his hair. He pauses for Two so they can leave together. While waiting, he catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror and almost snorts.

Nah, certainly not flattering… but totally effective. I wouldn't flirt with me either tonight.

The lanterns and copper bulbs that glow inside the multiplayer hub stay fluorescently bright all night long. Defining "night" is difficult in the underground, especially with time zones from around the world all dumped in one small perimeter. The Between dimension keeps chugging along anyway.

As Grian leaves the multiplayer zone, stepping out into the bedrock streets, the clock tower chimes to signal 12k ticks. Out there, above ground, the world's officially bathed in pink and orange sunset lighting. So they say, anyway. Hmm… Grian tips back his head, gripping the hood in both hands. He pulls the fabric downward so it digs against his pores.

He breathes.

New Star Station's bustling tonight. The city population ebbs and flows with account activity at the best (and worst) of times, but for now, chattering voices ripple through the air. Happy, friendly people bounce along wherever they want to go.

Pearl brushes past him then, sending one last I'm sorry grimace with her mouth and eyes. Grian nods back to indicate All good. Each moon phase stretches out for four days in Between, and tonight's the second one in the batch. The pull against his fluffing scarlet feathers is much, much stronger now than it was on Monday. It prickles over every shaft and barb.

Since neither he nor Pearl care for random hook-ups, they usually go out for food together or catch a movie on nights like tonight. It depends what's going on with Hermitcraft. Really, Grian doesn't make a habit of jumping online for projects immediately after an exhausting Life series recording session like this one. He usually gets Pearl's second full moon night- Gem and Impulse hang out with her on the third.

But tonight, Pearl has a refugee at her place… and not exactly someone he's thrilled to go looking for. His last encounter with EthoCam (Sorry… Rhetoric) left a less than pleasant aftertaste behind. At that thought, Grian stares down the dimly lit street, letting his eyes fall halfway shut.

I need to warn SnifferMyFeet not to go near him…

Maybe another time. Maybe when it isn't the full moon. Vex posture and flaunt themselves like mad this time of the month. Sniff might bite, and that's really not something he's in the mood for. There's still server clean-up to do on Hermitcraft. He's been meaning to add a nicer bridge design to the dolphin path. Maybe he'll send Scar a whisper in a bit.

He rocks forward, setting a brisk pace down the street. Blaze powder and slime balls are already mixing into magma cream on the bedrock. Two drifts after him without touching the ground. As much faith as Grian likes to put in the 'Not on the market tonight' cloak designs, it's an extra blanket of reassurance (like a knock to the head) knowing his twin's there to watch his back. Two might split off for some flirting later on, but it's nice of him to walk him home.

His comm buzzes, rattling up his arm like a shockwave. Grian looks down.

TwoMuchGrian: are we going to bigb's?

"… No, not tonight. Just back to our place."

Cheery people flit around on feet and wings. Some dress in 'No' cloaks and chat anyway, just excited to catch up while they have the chance. Some hook their arms around those of friends or acquaintances they've got their eye on for the evening. Strangers, maybe (some of them). No love hearts flicker in the cracks and crevices, but the warm eyes and friendly laughs say just as much.

It's an early courting night. It's posture. It's a show. Expect a few fights to break out tomorrow morning as people settle in and get more cherry-choosey, fussing over the partners they want to keep for the next 100 days. The block turns next Wednesday or Thursday. Scar won't even hunt until a couple nights into the full moon. He says souls taste better when they're satisfied on their post-loving time high, and they put up less of a fight.

Loving time. Sure.

So… What's everybody doing if these were never real hook-ups to begin with? No kisses. No nothing. His digital, programmed peers have no need nor desire to reproduce. All these empty courtship tugs they feel beneath the full moon just lead to… nothing.

[Full chapter on AO3 - Link at top]

[studentinpursuitofclouds]

*Pops out of the hole under a rock* Hi :D, may I request the sequel of the Ghost!Farmer story? thank you!

Of course 😃 Enjoy, and have a great day 💕

This is Part 2 of Ghost!Farmer Headcanon

_______________________________________

"I'm telling you for sure, man, there was a ghost here! A real one! Right here-" Abigail didn't have time to finish her sentence before she stopped and grumbled quietly to herself as she tried to pull the dried thistles off her clothes. Wading through the thicket of tall grass at the old abandoned farmhouse was an ordeal.

"I hope so. Now that would be a cool way to capture a ghost. We'd be like those characters from 'It Howls in the Rain', that would be sick!" Trying to keep up with her purple-haired friend, Sam followed Abigail, where already the tall shrubs had been muffled by the girl's footsteps.

"Need I remind you exactly how that movie ended?" To be honest, Sebastian thought the idea of seeing a ghost at least once was a pretty exciting, but he wasn't so happy about the idea of going this far, and at such a late hour, where he couldn't see further than his nose because of the darkness (only Abigail have a lantern). He was also a little grumpy by the thought that he could not smoke here, for the dry grass could catch fire even from a small spark of his cigarette. A shame. Still, Sebby tried to keep up with Sam and Abigail.

Finally, the trio of 'monster hunters' found themselves near the porch of a wooden house, where even in the dim light of Abigail's lantern, they could see how the wood was rotten from moisture and time. A breeze was the young people's only escape from the unbearable summer heat.

"Okay, we're here. This is exactly where I saw the ghost," the girl put the lantern down on the grass, as the moths gathering in the bright light were already starting to annoy her. Sam pulled a video camera out of his backpack. Sebastian was looking around the overgrown fields, and his gaze stopped on an old pet house. Who lived here before the place became abandoned, he wonder.

"And what are our chances of finding the ghost?" Sam finished setting up the camera, and turned to Abigail.

"Hell if I know, dude. To be honest, I don't even know if we'll see a ghost tonight. Or ever again. I feel like the ghost scared of me..." The girl answered honestly.

"You mean you're not even sure?" Sebastian still risked taking a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket and pulled one out of the pack.

"Ugh, I don't know!" Abigail rolled her eyes and began to survey the area with thoughtful looks. Sebastian had no luck with his lighter, no matter how hard he tried. While he was trying to light the fire, an icy wind whipped through him. Not the warm summer breeze that pleasantly caressed his skin and refreshed him, but a cold, piercing breeze.

"H e l l o..."

The voice was quiet enough, but all trio jumped up like a scalded man. The same pale silhouette, instead of eyes - the eternal emptiness. The Farmer's feet didn't touch the ground. Their coy smile, no matter how hard they tried, still made the blood freeze in the trio's veins.

Abigail thought she would show courage after her first contact with the ghost.

She hadn't.

Screaming, as heartbreakingly as the last time, she quickly grabbed Sam and Sebastian by the arms, who were frozen in place with fear, and led her friends away from the abandoned farm. The ghost, just like last time, frightened by the woman's scream, hid in the old farmhouse.

Here we go again... And it seemed that everything should have been different.