#light em up boys (the incense sticks)

[taraneeno]

Burning away the time 🌒

A short little visual story based on a habit of mine. When days are slow, and I have nothing much to do in the way of work or commitments, I like to measure the passage of time according to how long it takes for an incense stick to burn out. The ones I have at the moment take about 45 minutes to burn down :)

[ladey]

When I Brush Your Hair | Chapter 2

Jinx x Fem!Reader 🌙🦋🎀

Word count: 4.3k

⭐️ ⭐️ ⭐️ ⭐️ ⭐️ ⭐️ ⭐️

"How many do you got now?" Dorothy asks humorously, chin resting on her hand with a wine glass placed in front of her. Y/n juts her tongue out against the inside of her cheek and looks off into space. Dorothy chuckles.

"As long as you let me borrow them, girl." Her raspy laugh travels through the room as Y/n smiles at her.

"Sure, Dora." She sighs and looks down at the pallet in front of her. The design is evidently high-end; royal blue crystalline surface with gold design cutouts along the sides of it. Her fingers trace the smooth edge as her mind wanders again. She feels kinda bad; usually she's so much more lively and engaged when visiting her aunt. She hopes she isn't being too boring or depressing. She's aware of the kind of job she has too. So she likes to think she can be a sort of relief and sense of home for her. However her aunt's voice halts her running thoughts with an unexpected question.

"So that white haired boy, ey? You two a little duo?" Her voice is teasing, but Y/n can detect a sense of actual curiosity.

Oh...!

Y/n jumps back in her chair with a look on her face that resembles revolt.

"Ew, no! Gross. Just the thought makes me wanna vomit!" She gags as Dorothy laughs at her, shifting in her seat to pull out a long skinny cigar from her pocket.

"Coulda thought you had a little crush on him. You're with him all the time with that other girl— what's her name again?" Dorothy asks while she lights up her cigar. Y/n doesn't immediately answer at first. Her mind wanders and she feels a funny feeling in her stomach.

"N-no. And it's Powder." She answers vexed. She narrows her eyes, feeling almost offended that she'd forget her best friend. She wasn't sure why though.

"Oh my apologies." Dorothy chuckles with a trail of smoke leaving her lips, feigning defense.

"Whatever." Y/n gets up from her seat and walks around while her eyes flit around for the smelly sticks her aunt keeps in a jar.

"Where are the smelly stick thingy's?"

"The incense is in my room on the night stand." When Y/n comes back with the jar in her hands, she's smiling mischievously.

"You got the lavender ones."

"Yup, you can take em' out of your bag now."

-

About a month has passed since then. Not much has changed. The weather is slowly getting warmer, which Y/n is exuberant about.

Except now it's a late Saturday night. The Last Drop is filled to the brim with visitors seated at the tables holding vast amounts of different concoctions of alcoholic drinks.

Alcohol.

That's what Y/n, Power & Ekko are trying to steal at the moment.

Not too long ago, the three were sitting outside on a couple of discarded barrels and crates left at the side of the building. They were getting bored of playing the same card games over and over again, when Ekko brought up the epic idea of sneaking into the bar to steal a bottle of alcohol. Powder was reluctant at first, and   Y/n was having an internal battle with herself about trying to be more "grown-up and live a little."

But in the end, the two girls gave in. Because why not? You only live this life once. Plus they're bored, this could be fun; sneaking around. Growing up Y/n always really enjoyed exploring the smaller hidden areas of the Undercity, crawling through secret doors and windows into other buildings to find out where it would take her. Her excitement would soar whenever Ekko told her about a new area he found while out doing whatever he did.

Now the three of them look through the glass door, peering at the people surrounding the bar, and at Vander who's currently leaning on the bar chatting with folks.

"Okay, we need some sort of distraction." Ekko whispers.

"Can't we just ask Mylo to get something for us? I think he'd be willing-"

"Are you stupid?" Ekko cuts Y/n off before she can finish. She crosses her arms with a pout.

"It was just a suggestion..." Y/n mumbles. Ekko sighs.

"We don't wanna risk anything."

"He'd probably end up keeping it for himself, anyway." Powder scoffs rolling her eyes. Ekko agrees.

"Yeah. We need someone to distract Vander while another sneaks behind the counter and gets the goods." He peers into the bar then looks back at the two girls.

"I'll distract. As for the sneaking... The smallest needs to do it." There's silence when Powder and Ekko stare at Y/n. She looks at both of them bewildered.

"Oh, c'mon!?" She exclaims as she throws her arms in the air. Powder giggles at her and Ekko gives her an encouraging pat on the shoulder.

"Sorry shortstack." Y/n just sighs defeated.

"When I give you the thumbs up that's your signal. Be quick and don't get caught." He then opens the door and shoves them inside.

"As for Powder, you can come with me. I have an idea on how we can cause a little mayhem..." His face and tone scream mischief as he rubs his hands together.

"O-okay." The two head off in the opposite direction and Y/n veers over to the left side of the room.

She wonders what Ekko could have planned. It's sometimes a mystery with him. Although he always keeps her informed, the ideas he comes up with can sometimes get risky and chaotic in some way. Not to mention they've gotten caught a handful of times over the years. He's agile but clumsy.

Y/n slowly makes her way over to the far end of the bar, being mindful to stay hidden behind crowds. A part of her is scolding her about looking too suspicious while another is yelling at her to just keep going and ignore her nerves. In the meantime she stays standing beside a pillar a few feet away from the bar, where Vander continues to chat and pour people drinks. She tries to look at the bottles stored behind the counter, eyes flitting over the array of alcohol, when she hears a loud laugh on her right. Her head automatically whips around at the noise and her eyes land on some middle aged man sitting at a table smiling patronizingly at her as he lifts a drink up to his lips.

She hopes to whatever's out there that he doesn't ruin their plan.

Only a minute or two passes when she spots Ekko and Power walking between a couple of small crowds. Their eyes are searching around the room when they finally land on Y/n. Who is smiling at them, but it looks more like a grimace. They stop some 12 feet away from the bar, then Ekko gives her a nod and turns around to face Powder, who stands timidly behind him with fidgety hands. That's when Y/n takes notice of the bag around her shoulder.

She watches their mouths move and Powder reach into her side bag who pulls out one of her bombs... Is this going where she thinks it's going? Powder hands it to Ekko then takes out a second one. They briefly look around scanning the room, and it's all Y/n sees before a group suddenly blocks them out of view. She curses under her breath and leans over to try and see past anyone. But it's no use.

She feels her heart begin to drop. What if she misses the queue? She doesn't want to disappoint them by failing what should be a simple role she was given. Should she just try and go get a bottle now? But what if she does end up given the opportunity to see her queue but misses it, all because she went too early and ends up screwing up the whole plan by making Vander catch her?

There's suddenly a boom resounding within the whole bar. There are shouts and screams coming from everyone in the near vicinity. And those observing from a distance watch on in shock and confusion. The people previously blocking Y/n's view are scurried away by what looks like a second blow of some sort of pink goopy substance. In that moment she catches the back of Ekko's figure and Powder slowly backing away as she looks around at the crowds with an as equally apprehensive face. She stays trained on Ekko, determined not to mess up when he hides his hand behind his back with a thumbs up.

Y/n had been so focused on the others that she didn't notice Vander staring at the scene unfold with a nearly dumbstruck look on his face before stomping off in the direction of the chaos. She wastes no time and makes her move.

Weaving between a couple of people, she makes it through the opening to the bar, making sure to stay crouched. Wanting to make this fast, her eyes zoom across the agglomeration of liquids and bottles; some bubbling or having some sort of odd object submerged inside. She feels herself beginning to get overwhelmed by it all. She has no idea what to grab, some literally look deadly.

In the heat of the moment, her hand reaches out for a square shaped bottle filled with a purple liquid; which she thought had looked pretty. She stays crouched as she peeks around the corner of the counter. Vander is still dealing with crowd control, and there seems to be a great deal of people standing around watching to use as cover. The geezer from earlier had stood from his seat and was now watching with his jaw slack and his drink spilling onto his shoes which he seems to completely fail to notice.

Standing up, Y/n begins to run. Letting out panicked noises as she clutches the bottle in her hand with a death grip. Squeezing through more people, she meets her friends half way who are waiting near the wall covered by some other folks.

And with a giddy triumphant lift of her hand holding the bottle, the three run to the exit and down the street, letting out laughs and giggles that echo through the foggy night air.

-

The three kids end up finding an empty grotty alleyway with a big dumpster and crates. They heave as they finally sit down to rest. Powder slides down the wall into a ball across from the dumpster, where Ekko leans back and looks up at Y/n. He gestures to the alcohol in her hand with a nod.

"Shall we?" Y/n slowly walks over to him while glancing down at the liquid inside.

"There were so many back there. I didn't know what was what so I grabbed this because I thought it looked pretty. I hope it's up to your expectations..." She rambles timidly. She saunters over to the crate beside Powder and jumps up onto it, sitting on her hands. Ekko turns the concoction around in his hands as he inspects it. His eyebrows suddenly shoot up.

"Plum vodka.. I hear that stuff hits." Ekko says with an eager expression. He pops the cork off with his teeth,  Y/n visibly cringing, and looks back up at the girls across from him.

"You still in?" Y/n purses her lips and looks down at Powder to her left; she looks up at her. Y/n shrugs with what she hopes looks like an encouraging smile. She sticks out her hand for Powder to take and the bluenette stands up. Ekko smiles wickedly and raises the bottle up in the air.

"Salud." The boy swings his head back and takes a big gulp. How he didn't spill it from his mouth was beyond Y/n. He immediately starts coughing as he pounds his fist against his chest, eyes watering as he tries to catch his breath. The two girls giggle as they watch their friend struggle.

"Holy shit-" He chokes out between coughs. He extends his arm out to Powder, almost desperate to get the thing away from him as soon as possible.

"Fair warning, it burns." He breathes out. Powder gently grabs it and looks into the funnel of the glass bottle, wearily examining the purple liquid before releasing a deep breath.

"You got this!" Y/n shouts softly, shaking a fist into the air. Powder smiles gratefully. Bringing the bottle up to her lips, she too takes a mouth full. She struggles to get it down at first, a bit dripping down her chin as her face screws up in disgust.

"Bleh! That's gross!" She covers her mouth and nearly bends over into a coughing fit. Y/n has to pat the poor girl's back. The bottle is shoved into her hand, the alcohol sloshing around and almost spilling into her lap. Ekko can be heard laughing, but it grows distant as Y/n stares at the bottle in her shaky hands.

She wants to do it. But she's scared of the outcome. Not that she's much of a pessimist; she loves doing sneaky things. But why does her anxiety have to be acting up now of all times? She's beginning to notice a pattern of fear and over-thinking as of recent; she wants to slap herself in the face over it. The other two did it! If they can why can't she!? Stick to your guns and just take a drink like it's juice.. Yeah! Pretend it's juice! She tips her head back and downs two gulps.

Even if it tastes like dog shit.

Y/n has to repress the urge to gag from the burning sensation travelling from her throat all the way down to her stomach. The others eye her with raised brows.

"Oh my god-" She says between coughs.

"Yeahh told ya." Ekko steps over and takes the drink back.

"Doesn't even taste like plums." Y/n says upset.

"Maybe we can try a different drink next time." Powder suggests, taking the other two by surprise. Ekko chuckles.

"Is the alcohol hitting you already?" The three laugh, and proceed to take turns having their share of the purple concoction.

-

It's been over an hour and all three of them are no doubt visibly intoxicated. Initially, the bottle had been filled nearly to the top. Now it sits discarded on the ground, a couple gulps away from being empty.

Powder is sitting against the large crate, and Y/n lays on her back on the ground. Both are laughing at Ekko who stands ahead of them, moving in odd and silly ways while making a hard attempt to resemble a scarf. They're now currently playing a game where they take turns guessing what they're pretending to be.

"A tissue."

"A unicorn!"

"A lion! RAAAA!" Y/n roars. Ekko huffs.

"You guys aren't even trying."

"Pfft I got no clue.. A kite?" Y/n guesses, a slur to her speech noticeable. Ekko sighs and stops what he's doing to stand awkwardly in the middle of the alleyway.

"C'mon you guys. I'm a scarf." He says, like it's the most obvious thing ever.

"How were we supposed to guess something like that?" Powder scoffs. Y/n slaps her hand against her forehead with a groan.

"It was kinda obvious."

"Scarfs are used in so many different ways. You could've demonstrated more. And much better than that." Y/n patronizes.

"Oh really? Like how?"

"Well-"

Before an argument can take over, a shadow coming from the entrance of the alleyway casts over them.

"Oi, what you lot think you're doin'?"

Sheer panic washes over all three of them.

Benzo stands with his arms crossed and a deathly glare shooting at them like lazers. The three kids make eye contact with each other, silently communicating.

"I heard about a couple of bombs going off in Vander's place. Think you have any idea what that could be about?" It's silent for a couple of seconds before Ekko hesitantly speaks up.

"Must've been a robber." Benzo loudly huffs.

"Off you go, boy. I should see you in your bed by the time I get home." Ekko wastes no time to speed off, stumbling into the wall as he passes Benzo. When he's out of sight he eyes the two girls with squinted eyes.

"Get on with it." He says simply. And the girls get up as quickly as their unsteady bodies allow them. Powder grabs the bottle that was beside her and hides it behind her back as she passes Benzo with a sickeningly sweet grin, trailing behind Y/n.

They survey their surroundings in fear that Benzo is still around before falling into a steady stroll down the empty side street. Neither have any idea what time it is, but both assume it must be early in the morning considering only the odd person is seen walking or standing outside smoking.

"That was so scary." Powder giggles, the bottle swinging with her arms. Y/n turns her head to look at her. Her figure is relaxed, much more carefree than the Powder she's familiar with. Although Y/n likes to think she has that effect on her whenever they're together no matter the situation.

"Yeahhh." Y/n says, elongating the last syllable and giggling too, stumbling over her feet a few times. Then Powder giggles again. And now both girls are having a small giggling fit and bumping into each other as they continue to bound down the street.

They very soon come across a ladder that leads them up to a rooftop. Y/n's foot slips when she almost reaches the top making her let out a frightened squeak.

"Here.." Powder reaches her arm down for Y/n to take her hand, and she hoists her up. They tumble onto the ground below them in a fit of giggles and don't even bother to get up, choosing to crawl over to the edge and lay down on their backs. Both are out of breath, and    Y/n groans.

"I'm so tired now." She says just above a whisper, eyes fluttering closed. She hears Powder hum in agreement and shift beside her. She suddenly feels something soft brush against her right hand but it's gone before she can even fully process it. Her cheeks warm and she opens her eyes.

"I wish I could see the stars from here." Y/n mumbles. Powder hums in agreement again. Y/n turns her head to look at her with a teasing smile.

"Why are you being all quiet now?" She can only see the side of Powder's face. She always thought she had such a pretty side profile. While lost in her thoughts, she ends up poking her cheek. This causes Powder to laugh, eyes closing as she grins.

"I don't know." She shrugs nonchalantly, voice airy. Y/n purses her lips then sighs, turning her head to look back up. There's only silence between the two girls as they stare up into the misty sky, watching as it dances around in the lights shining through the windows. A butterfly suddenly lands on Y/n's nose making her squeal, but it flutters away before she can swipe it away.

Y/n is suddenly heard giggling playfully making Powder look at her with furrowing brows, and Y/n is turning onto her side to face her.

"So Miss Powder. Do you.. have a crush?" Her tone sounds as though she's interviewing her. The blue haired girl beside her is startled by the question.

"Uh- What?!"

"I asked you if you have a crush. I was just thinking, even though we've been friends for so long you've never talked about people that you liked before." Y/n says thoughtfully. Powder thinks about it too for a moment as she turns so she's now facing Y/m as well.

"True. I guess neither of us have." Y/n nods at that. But then shes giddy and starts the dreadful discussion again.

"Sooo, do you?" She tries to pry. Powder shakes her head quickly with a funny look on her face.

"Are you sure?"

"Mhm." Powder nods her head.

"I don't believe you. You're all rigid." Y/n laughs out loud, making Powder pout.

"C'monnn tell meee." She boops Powder's nose, making her scrunch her face with a giggle. Then all of a sudden, all foolishness is wiped from Y/n's face.

"You can be honest with me.." Powder bites her lip, a nervous tick of her's that Y/n had taken notice of the more she spent time with the girl.

"Is it a boy?"

"No."

"Is it a girl?"

"Do you have a crush on anybody Miss Candy?" Powder veers the topic onto Y/n instead, smiling triumphantly at the taken aback look on her face.

"Uh-" It felt like the air got punched out of her lungs.

Y/n should've expected that to be honest.

She always knew that she wanted to experience some sort of romance in her future, but she's only twelve. She never really thought too deeply about it before. Even so, she can recall certain moments where she felt some sort of attraction or "giddiness" that ones gets with a crush.

She thinks about Ekko; her visit at her aunt's house where she had that very awkward but very brief conversation about her "relationship" with him. Obviously, they have no relation of the sort. And she still feels the same since that day. So he's a no-go.

She thinks about Vi; who she's always viewed as a person of guidance and wise words. Strong words. Strong arms. Which she hopes to achieve someday possibly. She always liked tall girls, they made her feel safe and protected, that's all... But she can't lie to herself. Vi is a good looking girl and she knows that. There had been numerous times where she smiled softly at her and praised her for finally achieving something and she'd feel her face redden with faint butterflies in her stomach. In fact; when she first met her she couldn't stop smiling and would always have to turn the other way to force herself to stop.

But then her mind wanders to the girl laying in front of her, only inches away from her face. She considers Powder to be one of her closest and dearest friends. She barely remembers her life before she met her. She always was fascinated by her. She couldn't get over the fact that both her eyes and her hair were nearly the same shade of blue. Whenever shes with her she finds herself admiring a specific feature on her face, and her soft hair that she sometimes has the urge to run her hand through just for fun. Not to mention she loves it when they get into a teasing match that eventually ends up turning into a play fight. And lastly, there's no ignoring the racing of her heart the moment she first sees her on a brand new day.

Oh...

Powder is staring at her expectantly. Y/n is panicking. But she's saved by the bell when both girls lift their heads up at the sound of heavy foot steps approaching them.

"Where the hell have you guys been?!" Vi's wild voice immediately breaks the aura surrounding the two girls, and suddenly they're overcome with the feeling of being caught. They shoulda guessed she'd come looking for them. They stand up, Powder more quickly which causes her to stumble.

"I was worried sick! And your dad's been looking for you!" Her face expresses fear and worry. She's panting, seeming as though she's been running around for a while. She probably has.

Then Vi eyes the two of them with suspicion, noticing the dazed look in their eyes and the way they waver in their spots. And then her gaze travels down to the ground where the empty bottle lays forgotten. Ah..

Vi scoffs and has to look away as she takes a deep breath.

"Y'know? I can't believe you two sometimes. Come on." She guides them down the ladder, and soon they're making their way back to The Last Drop. Vi occasionally having to hold onto one of the girl's arms to prevent them from tipping over.

What happened back on the rooftop lingers in the back of both the girl's minds. But it would soon be pushed away to be forgotten until a very long time.

Chapter 3…

—

the actual plot starts next chapter. there you go.

fair warning though, evidently my chapters tend to end up being longer than i anticipate them to be. not to mention i intend to write a tiny bit more chapters about their childhood/teenhood before the time skip, just for relationship development and dynamic purposes. i want y'all to have a clear idea of it. just wanna let yk in case u start questioning why it seems to be a slow start.

(this book also may or may not be based off of my arcane dr. so idk how things are going to play out in the future just yet... we'll see).

[officialscaramouche]

Companions

pairing: Chongyun x Xingqiu

summary: As playful, oddly suspicious, and teasing big Xingqiu was, the duo leave with some pretty good intel. With the end in sight, little Xingqiu feels a sudden disconnect with his traveling partner and begins to worry about going back to his time period.

warnings: none

word count: 4,106

also posted on ao3!

Ch. 4 of 5 < prev | next >

Xingqiu crossed his legs, leaning back against the tree. The bark dug into his back too uncomfortably but he knew that if he sat up again, it would tug at the delicate silk fibers and he didn’t want to ruin it any more than he already had. He admired the sunset before him as it flowed into the edge of the plains across the river. This was nice, he admitted, eyeing the area they had come from and began to understand a little bit about why he chose this secluded area to reside in later in life.

He observed the river closely, watching the current pull gently along, leaves drifting unbothered in the slight breeze. Lolling his head to the side lazily, he watched Chongyun drop small stumps of wood onto the ground. He stripped himself of his long, linen vest, his arms stretching either way to shrug the material off. Then, he rolled up his sleeves to air off his arms that procured a bit of sweat from cutting the small trees, his moisture-wicking sleeves clinging tightly to his muscle. And one by one, Chongyun placed a small log onto the large rocks there and brought down his blade with harsh force, splitting the wood in two. The longer he did this, the more tired he became. Soon he was panting heavily and sweating more than before. He tugged his sleeves off, exposing the skin finally, and wiped his forehead with the cloth.

Xingqiu was in a trance. Watching the exorcist chopping wood over and over again had him hypnotized. It wasn’t until the pole in his hands flew off his lap and down the river that he came back to Teyvat. “A-Ah!” Xingqiu dashed after it, feeling the bark pull apart the silk threads once more. “The pole!”

Chongyun, sitting on the rock now catching his breath, groaned when he saw the young boy chasing after the fishing rod knowing that he had to get it himself. He gets up reluctantly and begins a light jog that quickly becomes a sprint, swiping the rod from the river and pulling it back to at least try to catch the fish. He tugs it back firmly, reeling it in when the line tightens. He’s wrestling the fish as it tries desperately to swim away with it’s free meal but Chongyun is just as desperate to catch it after Xingqiu let every other fish go. “X-Xingqiu!”

The boy perks up and looks at Chongyun for orders. “Y-Yes! How can I--”

“Get the knife! I’ve almost got it!”

Xingqiu grimaced. “You want me to touch--”

“Quickly!!”

The scholar whines a little, stomping his feet in disgust. “Oh..fine!”

The boy kneels by the edge of the water, watching with disgust at the water thrashing about. Behind him, Chongyun plants his feet firmly on the ground, turning to the side and, with the last of his strength in a final attempt to get some food, he swings his arms down with a guttural shout, sending the fish flying into the air. It flies right over Xingqiu’s head and onto the ground, flopping in the dirt and grass. Chongyun tumbles to the ground, exhausted from the sudden burst of energy. Xingqiu stood there, holding the small pocket knife with both hands and staring at the fish. “Will you stun it already?” Chongyun breathes, his chest heaving.

Xingqiu shuts his eyes tightly, and slams the blunt end of his knife into the fish’s head. When he feels the fish still in his hand, he falls back and lets out a dramatic sigh. “I killed a fish…”

“Yeah and you’ve eaten plenty of em. Hurry up, give me the knife so I can clean it.” Chongyun crawls over to the boy and grabs the knife from his limp hand before crawling over to the fish and taking it to the rock. Xingqiu lifted his head slightly to watch Chongyun cut the head off the fish and slice it in half along the bottom. He stares intently at his back, admiring his broad shoulders for the first time since they left his estate. Oh, Xingqiu quit it, he thinks, laying his head back down. He rolls over and slowly picks himself up, dusting off his now ruined outfit.

He watches on, again, now filled with a tinge of sadness. After being on such a wonderful adventure-- his first adventure-- Xingqiu had briefly forgotten that he didn’t belong here. The Chongyun in front of him was not his Chongyun. This Chongyun was a seasoned exorcist. This Chongyun had lost his innocence a long time ago. This Chongyun does not look at him the way he looked at him. And most importantly, this Chongyun belonged to a different him. It was painfully obvious how loyal he was to his Xingqiu. His expressions when he talks about him are softer and kinder. His words are carefully selected and intentional. But when he talks to this Xingqiu, he’s terribly sarcastic and irritable.

Xingqiu missed his Chongyun. He missed the puppy-like devotion and the few words spoken. He missed being looked at like a treasure and being touched like a paper thin vase. His Chongyun was always so gentle and tender with him. His Chongyun appeared anywhere he wanted him to and at any time. His heart ached at the idea of not seeing Chongyun again, perhaps the same way that this Chongyun ached for his Xingqiu.

The boy watched as the older man ran bamboo sticks through the flesh of the fish, each puncture meticulous and careful. He placed them on his linen vest that he discarded moments ago to prevent the fish from getting dirty and opened a rolled-up pouch that had little vials neatly stored inside. Taking only a specific few, he dusted the fish skewers with what was inside the vials and the smell wafted over to Xingqiu. He recognized the smell of salt, pepper, dried onions, parsley, and mint. These were the spices Xingqiu liked in his fish. The boy shakes his head slightly and sighs with a small smile on his face. Maybe this Chongyun wasn’t very different from his at all.

It was quiet with the exception for the croaking frogs, the rippling river, and the fire cracking. The stars twinkled particularly brighter this far out from the city. Xingqiu had never seen the sky so plentiful and bright before. He stared up at the sky, resting his head on his arms beneath him. As he was getting lost in the stars, a bouquet of fish skewers wrapped in a leaf popped into view. Xingqiu sat up and took the skewers, noting the absence of any more on the fire. “You’re not gonna eat any?” Xingqiu took a bite out of the chunks of fish on his skewer and watched as Chongyun crushed different dried herbs between two rocks.

“No,” he answered, twisting the stone to grind the flowers into a fine powder. “I need three of them to give to the you hun ye gui. There’s only two left.”

Xingqiu blew gently on the steaming fish. “Yeah, two. One for me and one for you.”

Chongyun funneled the powder into an empty vial with a leaf and continued with other herbs. “Two would hardly be enough for you. It’s fine, I don’t eat much. I’m okay with fruits and nuts.”

Xingqiu peered at the exorcist through his lashes and pursed his bottom lip into a pout. “Is it because I’m a ‘growing boy?’”

“No, it’s because you’re a glutton.” Chongyun held the half-full vial up to look at it.

“What are you doing?” Xingqiu scooted over to the other side of the campfire, cradling the other skewer in his arm.

Chongyun gathered the next dried herb onto the center of the rock and began grinding it beneath another rock. “Making incense.”

“Oh yeah,” he said with a mouth full of fish. “What else did I say we needed?”

Chongyun paused and sighed. “...Guidance talismans.”

“Oh right...and you can’t make any?”

Chongyun chuckled, shaking his head. “No way. I don’t even know how to.” The man turned to face Xingqiu. “See, the difference between guidance talismans and, say, a sealing talisman is that it moves. It’s easy to make a talisman that doesn’t need to make its own decisions-- especially since I have no clue as to what this demon wants. But if you need a good one that stays still, I’m your man. The only person in my family that could make guidance talismans was my great aunt…”

Xingqiu tossed his bamboo skewer into the fire and eyed the last one. “I’m assuming she didn’t leave any notes, huh?”

“No…” Chongyun placed his elbow on his thigh, resting his chin in his hand. “The steps can’t be any different, though...right?” Xingqiu shrugged. He didn’t read a lot of exorcist, Taoist, or talisman books. He always kind of assumed that Chongyun knew everything. Chongyun leans back onto the ground, laying in his hands. “Well you should go to sleep. We’re gonna set off bright and early.”

Xingqiu felt that wave of sadness wash over him again as he looked on at Chongyun laying down and gazing at the stars. In the beginning, he felt like his journey would never end but now that they knew how to quell the demon, he wasn’t all too sure about what would happen for him next. Over these past days, almost week, he had grown attached and used to this older Chongyun. He found himself accustomed to sleeping in the dirt rather than a freshly made bed. And he found a bit of joy from traversing over the spanse of Liyue. But the most pressing question was whether or not he was going back home.

When Xingqiu woke up, Chongyun was sitting criss-crossed with his hands on either knee, his forefinger and thumb touching delicately as his palms faced the sun. He was incredibly still. Xingqiu had never seen Chongyun meditate as he wasn’t very good at it. He was always too restless and often found himself bored and seeking enrichment elsewhere. But Chongyun was a master exorcist now. Xingqiu wasn’t sure why he imagined that Chongyun couldn’t meditate now, and perhaps he did this often while he slept, able to rest peacefully while also keeping watch of their camp. And he knew Chongyun was aware of the area surrounding them, because when Xingqiu opened his eyes, he was greeted almost immediately with a grumbly “good morning.”

“Ah, good morning,” he croaked, his voice laced with sleep. “Did you sleep?”

“I haven’t slept this whole trip. Not like you, anyways.” He was right, he had been meditating all this time. “Are you ready?”

Xingqiu smoothed down his bedhead and combed his fingers through the knots. “Can I at least rinse out my mouth?”

Chongyun stood up, twisting left and right to crack his back. “Fine, but be quick.” Xingqiu hurried to the river to swish water around in his mouth, remembering his lingering thoughts from last night. If he could return to the beginning of this adventure, he probably would once more. But he was also very anxious to return home to a bustling harbor.

When the scholar returned, Chongyun wrapped something neatly into a thick leaf, tying it closed with strong fibers into a little box. Xingqiu’s footsteps grew louder as he approached the exorcist and he extended the box over to the boy. “What’s this?”

Chongyun chewed something and spit it onto the ground, wiping the corner of his mouth with his thumb. “Mint. I use it to freshen up when I’m out on a journey.” Xingqiu untied the fibers and inside were crushed up mint leaves. The refreshing smell wafted out of the box and Xingqiu smiled, putting his nose to the rim. “You can do this,” Chongyun swiped a finger through the mint and Xingqiu watched as he rubbed his teeth and gums with the mint. “Then you can chew it until the taste is all gone.”

Xingqiu mirrored his best friend, swiping a finger through the mint to gather a bit and rubbed his teeth, cheeks, and gums before chewing it. “Thank you for sharing your mint,” he sings, handing the box back to Chongyun.

“No, that’s yours. I picked the mint this morning while you were sleeping. Keep it.”

Xingqiu looked at the box in his hand and blushed, tying the box closed to save the mint. “Thank you,” he said with a toothy grin. “So where are we headed now?” The boy asked, seeing Chongyun straighten out his linen robe and setting off. “Closer to the harbor.” Chongyun turned around and extended a hand for Xingqiu to grab, helping him up and over a big step. “The you hun ye gui stays in that area. I’m assuming it used to live here when the harbor was still being built.”

“I don’t know,” Xingqiu hummed, recalling one of their earlier nights together. “You said it only sought out exorcists and others similar. Didn’t exorcists only grow popular a couple of generations before you?”

Chongyun ran his hands through his hair, pulling his fringe out of his face. “Exorcists have always been around. It just didn’t become a large career until a few generations ago.”

“So I’m guessing that guidance talismans weren’t often made way back when either, huh? Since it’s hardly in production right now.”

“No, they were made more in the early years of Liyue. People were still very close with their archons and were often granted ‘favors,’ if you will.”

“Like what? What do you mean?”

“Exorcists weren’t a thing until Rex Lapis shared his power with my ancestors. Mortals were not to interact with the dead, but you can consider Rex Lapis as the escort to the other life.” Xingqiu closed his eyes as he thought, listening to Chongyun’s history lesson very carefully. “Now, the archons’ powers are watered down into these little pendants we call visions. We get a bit of their elemental prowess, but none of their omnipotence. I’d eat a million chilis right now if it meant Rex Lapis would reincarnate and give me but a pinch of his power.”

“Wow, I didn’t know that about visions! But why don’t we have geo visions?”

“We were recognized by other archons, that’s all. Anyways, we’re here so get comfortable.”

Chongyun dropped to a grassy spot underneath shade and crossed his legs once more. “What’s the plan?” Xingqiu sat atop his knees and placed his palms delicately in his lap.

“This whole trip, I’ve been meditating to try and communicate with my great aunt...but so far nothing has worked,” Chongyun said, without opening his eyes and with only moving his lips. “Hopefully I’ll be blessed by Rex Lapis’ spirit and he’ll give me wisdom.”

Xingqiu clapped his hands together in excitement. “You can speak with Morax when you meditate?!”

“I’m being sarcastic.”

“Oh.” Xingqiu sat back down and enjoyed the moment in silence for a bit. He studied Chongyun’s perfectly straight posture, the entirety of his body as still as stone, and his breathing so small that his chest was not visibly rising. “Is there anything I can do in the meantime? “Yeah, see if that book says anything more.” Chongyun opened his eyes suddenly and slouched a little, relaxing his hands. “Shit, I should’ve asked Xingqiu for the enochian decoder. Oh well.” Just like that, he resumed his straight posture and closed his eyes again.

Xingqiu pursed his lips and quirked an eyebrow. “Hmmm.” He laid the book flat on the ground, flipping through the pages and scanning the text for any recognizable words. Only few and far between words were revealed, but none of it helped to translate. ‘Demonic hatred coursed through the fingers wrapped around my throat. This is where I die, without answers, in the hands of my beloved.’ He revisited the early translations to try and find similarities in other words.

He looked back to Chongyun who sat motionless. He looked peaceful-- the most unbothered he’d looked this whole trip. Chongyun had grown into a capable young man who can take care of himself all alone. And he, too, became a successful individual doing what he loved. It was clear to himself, though, that he may not have gathered the courage to do certain things but he was still as constant in Chongyun’s life as much as he could. He remembered the somber look on his face when Chongyun explained to him that they’d both become busy. And when he got sick, Xingqiu was hardly around to help him get better. The boy sighed, telling himself that he needs to do better. He looked back to the book and clapped his hands on his cheeks. They were going to be here for a while, he might as well be productive.

‘The privilege to be bored was something I took for granted. I had realized that I had done not a single thing, not been helpful with the exception for entertainment. Which, in hindsight, I believe is what kept us together for so long. I am intolerable and loathsome, but my dearest sees through me and the facade and brings me along anyhow. Quiet moments like these will forever warm my heart in memories. We are not sharing a single activity, yet we are bonded by the coexistence. The rays of the sun stunk like poorly washed laundry and our hair clumped together from the bodily oils but it is fun to reminisce and I enjoy being sullied every now and then.’

“Ugh!” Xingqiu threw his brush as far as he could across the plain in frustration. “This has nothing to do about the demon! Stupid book!” Xingqiu crossed his arms in anger and huffs to the air. He jumps a little, afraid that he had been too loud and slowly turned to peek at Chongyun. He continued to sit there as lifeless as a rock. The shade he was in had now moved as the sun positioned itself differently in the sky and his cheeks began to flush a bit red. The stray strands of hair stuck to his face from the sweat, but he still looked as cool and collected as ever. But Xingqiu had an idea.

“Hey, Chongyun!”

The exorcist was shaken awake. He opened one eye to see what the matter was. “Yes?”

Xingqiu pushed something into his lap. Chongyun closed his eyes. “Can you freeze this for me?”

Chongyun, in a desperate attempt to get back to undisturbed meditating, grabbed the round object and coursed ice through it. He held it out for Xingqiu to grab.

“Thanks!” Chongyun could hear the young boy shuffling around. The sound of water being sloshed around hinted that he used his vision. Then, the boy came running back. “Here!”

Chongyun huffed in frustration, irritated by the harsh sun. “Please, I’m trying to--”

The exorcist opened his eyes to an amateur wooden carving of a bowl filled with a messy, dirty looking bowl of frozen water. Inside, he could see little blades of grass and granules of dirt but also recognized the petals of the qingxin flower. “I don’t have popsicle sticks, but I still remembered how to make it!”

Chongyun took the bowl in tired, shaking hands and stared into it in shock. “You made this for me? Where did you get the flowers?”

Xingqiu pointed to a small hill behind him. “I climbed up there! I got a little dirty, but that’s fine. Taste it! Is it good?”

“You climbed up there?!” Chongyun shot a finger in the direction of the mountain, his brows turned down in anger. “That’s dangerous!” Xingqiu didn’t know how to respond. Chongyun had never yelled at him before. Maybe raised his voice, but never yelled. “Ah, I’m sorry. I’m burning up.”

Xingqiu sat next to the exorcist. “Then eat up!”

Chongyun eyed the contaminated water in the bowl in his hands and shrugged. He held a hand out to the scholar. “Can I borrow your short knife?” Xingqiu slipped it out from the inside of his boot and Chongyun hacked at the ice deliberately, cutting out a small piece and popped it in his mouth. He sucked on the ice for a bit before it started to melt and gulped down the ice. It didn’t take long for the medicinal properties in the flower began to take effect. Chongyun continued to tear pieces out of the bowl, popping them in one by one each time with more vigor. Once the bowl was empty, Chongyun got to his feet with newfound energy, his sweat nearly gone. “That was so good, Xingqiu! Thank you!”

Xingqiu stood too, and tugged at Chongyun’s sleeve. “Before you go back to meditating, I want you to look at what I’ve done these past few hours!” The boy leads him to where his book lay and pulls out a paper from underneath it. “I haven’t got much, but I managed to decode some of the script.”

Chongyun looks at the messily written notes. There were enochian scripts next to legible characters and various drawings of symbols. “These,” Chongyun references, pointing to the drawn symbols. “Are the designs for the talisman. You did all this?

Xingqiu grins, holding his hands behind his back. “Yeah! And look, I got some of this translated. I didn’t care to check the beginning yet because we’re nearly done, so we only need the ending, right? But none of this seems relevant to the demon and what we’re doing.”

Chongyun reads the translated text and looks at Xingqiu who stood on his tippy toes to see the book. “Can I?” He asks, lifting the book and paper.

“Well, sure.”

Chongyun leads the two of them to a shaded area and he sits against the side of the mountain, flipping the decoded notes over to the blank side. His eyes shift from the book to the paper, making notes as he reads. They sat there until the sky had darkened and the book was no longer legible. “You were right,” he says with a smile. “This is a diary!”

Xingqiu snaps awake and throws himself over the book. “How do you know?”

“The writer continually refers to himself in first person. And these last two chapters are all written from his perspective. He’s travelling with his significant other and he’s talking about the you hun ye gui. The style of writing though…”

“Hey! Kind of like us!” Xingqiu grabbed the paper and read what Chongyun translated.

“Anyways, what I translated gave me an idea. Can you fill this bowl again and also draw me another talisman, but bigger this time?”

“Sure!”

Xingqiu pulled his finger out of his mouth and held it in the air. “The wind stopped, finally.”

Chongyun organized the fish on a large leaf and picked up the incense on the floor. “Good, maybe this time it will stay lit.”

The moon was high in the sky and the world was oddly quiet. At least to Xingqiu. They weren’t close to the harbor, but usually the liveliness could be heard from out here. He looked back to the moon and felt his stomach flip. He missed home. “How do you think I’m gonna get home?”

Chongyun struck flint, causing sparks. He stopped to look up at Xingqiu, who stood above his kneeling form. “I don’t know, I’ve never dealt with time travel before.” He looked down to continue striking the flint. “You’re probably the first.”

“Do you think I’m stuck here? Forever?”

The incense lit and Chongyun stuffed the flint into his pocket. He threw an arm around Xingqiu’s neck and they walked back towards the mountainside to hide behind some shrubs. “Well...if you’re here in the future, doesn’t that mean that you do? I mean, we grew up together. If you didn’t then you’d probably have disappeared by now. Or I might have even lost my memories of you.”

“Maybe another Xingqiu took my place!”

Chongyun laughed and ruffled his hair. “I think I’d be able to recognize a fraud, fanboy!” Chongyun paused and blushed. “But, in all seriousness, I did have fun on this trip.” Xingqiu looked at him quizzically. “And...seeing you as a kid again...I should’ve told you how much you meant to me more. I really did-- and still do-- enjoy hanging out with you. So thank you for being my friend.”

Xingqiu felt his heart beat a little harder. It was relieving to finally know that his strong feelings weren’t unrequited. But he might have to work on expressing his feelings just the same.

[galli-writes]

Anything at All    

(Click here to read on Ao3!)

(Click here to listen to the podfic!)

fandom: Teen Titans

pairing: BBRae

genre/warnings: AU - Canon Divergence; Implied/Referenced Abuse, Abusive Parents, Childhood Trauma, Graphic Depictions of Violence

additional tags: Angst, Family Issues, Friendship/Love, Protectiveness, Slow Burn, Romance, Hurt/Comfort, Love Confessions

summary:

There are a few things that Beast Boy knows for certain:

He’s 21….and a total lightweight. He’s a vegan (but not like…a pretentious vegan). He’s not going to be single forever.

And the Teen Titans are the only family he’ll ever need.

a/n: Sorry it took me so long to get this next chapter out! I've been very busy lately. Hopefully things should be getting a little more consistent soon.

Enjoy!

Chapter 2: The First Fight ( words: 7,525 )

Lately, Beast Boy had decided that his least favorite part of being called out on a mission was changing into uniform. Calling it a uniform and not a costume made it only slightly less embarrassing.

He understood the point of it—at least from Robin’s perspective. But the rest of them didn’t have much of an alternate identity anyway, so the costume always seemed a little redundant. Like Raven had pointed out when they first met, trying to ‘conceal your civilian identity’ seemed a little pointless when you were green. But they’d still kept it up all these years regardless. Robin’s leniency toward costume redesigns was the one saving grace.

Beast Boy quickly grabbed a pair of slick black athletic pants off the floor, along with a form fitting long sleeve shirt. It was still raining outside and, heading into October, that meant it was probably pretty cold out there too. Both pieces were relatively plain, save for a few purple accents here and there and several obnoxious zippers. He strapped on his extra-grip running shoes as tightly as he could without cutting off his circulation. He’d learned from experience that this was a necessary evil.

Before running out the door, he made sure to grab one last thing. A red and white sports jacket that he’d been recently trying to incorporate into his look. Raven always complained that he needed to just pick one color scheme and stick with it—the purple and black or the red white—but Beast Boy refused. She told him the jacket was stupid, and actually seemed actively annoyed by the clashing colors. So naturally he wore it every opportunity he got.

He glanced at the clock on his desk, muttering a curse under his breath. He darted out of his room, nearly tripping around the corner as he ran. It had only been a minute or two, but sometimes that wasn’t fast enough for Robin. The guy seemed to live in his uniform. Beast Boy suspected he always had on it underneath whatever he was wearing--just like in the movies.

By the time he got to the garage, only Robin and Cyborg were still there—Robin about to hop on his bike, Cyborg tinkering with his car again.

“There you are,” Robin said, in the middle of putting on his helmet.

“Sorry,” Beast Boy panted.

“Don’t apologize,” Robin said flatly. “Apologies don’t fix mistakes. Actions do. Just try and get here sooner next time.”

“Right,” Beast Boy said. The words weren’t unfair or mean spirited, but they did leave him with a small pit in his stomach. Raven could teleport anywhere in an instant. Cyborg didn’t even have to change. And any time Starfire was ever late or unprepared for a battle, Robin barely seemed to noticed. Maybe that was one of the perks of dating your team leader.

“I’ve already sent Star and Raven out to do some recon. You should try and catch up to them,” Robin said, revving the engine.

Cyborg had stood up from behind the car, and was now typing away at a keypad on his arm. “Just sent their location to your transmitter. You shouldn’t be too far behind them.”

“On it,” Beast Boy nodded.

Without looking back he turned on his heels and started running as fast as he could—at least in his human form. Then, in one quick movement, the ground disappeared from under his feet, replaced with the damp, whirling air of a rainy day.

He hadn’t been lying earlier. With a hawk’s eye view he really could see every detail below him—everything from the man shushing his child at the bus stop to the woman handing out religious pamphlets on the corner of the street. If the clouds hadn’t been blocking it, he figured he probably would have had a pretty good view of the sunset. Instead, the sky was dark and gray. The city easily made up for it with every streetlight, headlight, and illuminated office building that cut through the rain.

The bank was just around the corner--the sirens and flashing lights confirmed it.

Beast Boy glided down to the roof of a shorter building just across the street from all the action. He perched on the back of a patio chair--one among many on the rooftop. The air smelled like coffee and freshly baked bread, even through the rain. And based on the number of sparrows that scattered when he landed, he figured the roof had to belong to a restaurant or coffee shop. The thought alone was enough to make his stomach rumble again. Turns out two handfuls of Fritos couldn’t really count as a meal.

Beast Boy whipped his transmitter out of his pocket and clicked the button on the side.

“I’m here,” he said, looking around. “Not sure exactly where everyone else is.”

“Hold on a sec,” Cyborg’s voice crackled through his ear. “They just left. Heading west in pursuit. Towards the outskirts of town.” The sound of frantic typing echoed through the speaker. “Their signal’s dying though. Fast. I think I’m gonna lose ‘em any second.”

Beast Boy smiled, even though no one could see. “Piece a cake.”

He slid the transmitter back into his pocket and leapt off the building once more. He flew directly over the sea of blaring lights and sirens, bypassing them entirely. Two blocks ahead, he dove into an alley and landed on all fours. Fortunately, the GPS he had up his sleeve was powered by smell, not cellular signal. And in this kind of weather, a green wolf prowling through the shadows could easily be mistaken for a mangy stray dog.

The rain admittedly made things more difficult. Every trace of a scent he found was vague and foggy. But he was confident he’d find the trail eventually--the scent he was looking for was hard to miss.

After trotting through the shadows for a good ten minutes, he finally caught what he was looking for. The aroma itself, sweet and slightly smoky, was faint at first. But it was so distinctly different from every other smell—exhaust fumes, humidity, and now wet dog--that just one whiff was enough to send him into a small sneezing fit.

The buildings around him had begun to change pretty drastically as well. Instead of skyscrapers, narrow apartment buildings made up the majority of the street face. He passed an old-fashioned gas station with only three pumps. Several men were standing outside the convenience store connected to it, laughing and smoking cigarettes. Another block down he passed a 24 hour pizza place that was totally empty. Then another convenience store with a busted neon sign. The street lights changed for only a few passing cars. He could count the number of people he saw on four paws--one of them a stray cat that had hissed at him violently as he passed.

Beast Boy knew he was still very much in the city--but he didn’t know where. Somehow even with the lights and the people and the apartments, it felt like he was trekking through a ghost town. A place that the rest of the city had forgotten about altogether. He couldn’t explain why exactly, but his breath suddenly felt more labored and tired. Like each time he exhaled it was more of a sigh. A shadow of sadness he couldn’t trace back to any one thing in particular.

When the ground shifted from asphalt to grass, he breathed a sigh of relief. The dewy forest floor felt so much more natural when he was in this form. Needless to say, the relief was not just physical. As he put more and more distance between himself and the streets behind, the sentiment began to fade. And it disappeared completely the moment he spotted some flaming red hair poking through the trees.

He bounded forward and leapt into the air, sneezing mid-transformation. To top it all off, he quickly realized that the ground beneath him wasn’t so much ground anymore as it was a pile of mud. A pile of mud he promptly slid right into.

“Beast Boy!” Starfire gasped.

“’Sup ladies,” he said with a wink, meeting Raven’s eye roll from the ground.

“How were you able to locate us?” Starfire asked, helping him up. “We do not have any of the signal.”

Beast Boy stood, trying (and failing) to wipe the mud off his jacket. “Oh, that was easy,” he said, flicking some off his shoulder. “Raven stinks .”

Raven glared at him, her eyes two menacing slits under a cloak of shadow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You always smells like that weird store downtown,” he continued. “With the Buddha statues and weed socks.”

He should’ve seen her next move coming--but of course he hadn’t.

Suddenly Beast Boy’s footing gave and he found himself on the ground again-- magically --like he’d never gotten up in the first place. Raven was looking over him.

“It’s called incense . And I’ve never set a foot in that disgusting store in my life.”

Beast Boy got to his feet again. This time unassisted. “Well it stinks,” he said dramatically wrinkling his nose. “Why can’t you just burn sugar cookie candles like a normal person?”

Raven frowned. “Well at least I don’t smell like a soggy doggy daycare,” she replied.

Beast Boy looked down at his drenched, and now very muddy, clothing. No grade of athletic fabric would have been enough to save him from the laundry he’d be doing after a fall like that.

“So you have no news from Robin?” Starfire quickly interjected, looking around a little more urgently than either of them.

“I think he was about to head this way—maybe he’s asking some questions back at the bank?” Beast Boy shrugged. He instinctively reached for his transmitter. “Lemme check if I have any bars.”

Flipping the device open in his palm, he squinted at the top left corner. Miraculously, he had a flickering signal--if only for a second. The number in the top right hit 2%...then 1%...and then the device shut off entirely. He snapped it shut.

“Uh--nope, nothing. No bars,” he said, biting his lip.

“Oh, glorbnaf,” Starfire said under her breath.

Beast Boy looked around them, but could only make out the shadowy outlines of the towering trees. Out here, the only light they had to guide them was the glow from Starfire’s eyes.

“Sooooo...”

“We just lost them,” Raven said flatly.

Beast Boy grit his teeth. ““...What’re we gonna tell Robin?”

“Exactly what I just told you. Unless you have a better idea.”

Beast Boy looked around the clearing they were all stopped in. And when he really started to absorb his surroundings, the feeling from the streets returned again. He couldn’t place what it was, but something didn’t feel right. It was something about the ground. Now that he wasn’t running across it or slipping in a mud puddle, he could feel something. Hear something deep below.

“Hold on a sec,” he said, furrowing his brow. Instantly, the green elephant from earlier reappeared in the clearing, landing with a crash. Starfire and Raven’s eyes both widened in confusion, but they remained silent as Beast Boy slowly walked around the clearing. With every step he took, he could feel it more clearly--a sort of vibration, a humming reverberating up through the earth. He stopped directly in the center of the clearing and transformed back.

“I think...they’re still here,” he said slowly. “They’re just...underground.”

“Underground?” Starfire said.

Raven frowned.“So you turned into an elephant and stomped on their ceiling. Because that’s not conspicuous at all.”

“Eh heh hem,” Beast Boy said as he spun around. “Elephants can hear through their feet, Raven .”

“You know what else can hear underground?” she replied. “Tiny mice and mole rats that don’t alert the enemy that we’re standing right on top of them .”

Beast Boy just threw out a hand dismissively. “Yeah, right. Like they really heard that.” He shook his head. “I heard some kind of weird humming noise. They’re probably blasting music while they count their money.”

“Um...friends,” Starfire’s voice cut in, once again much more urgently.

Beast Boy and Raven turned simultaneously, eyes following Starfire’s gaze as she pointed to several metal objects rising out of the ground.

Without missing a beat, Raven raised her hands, eyes aglow. A translucent purple dome instantly appeared around them--and not a second too soon.

Lasers bounced viciously off the barrier, coming from every direction. Even though the dome easily deflected the shots, the action began to produce a troubling smokescreen on all sides, completely blocking their visibility.

“You were saying?” Raven sneered, brow furrowed in concentration.

Starfire began to throw shots out in every direction. Each time she was lucky enough to hit something, a small burst of light leaked through the smoke, which was only now beginning to clear. Just enough for Beast Boy to see the lights coming toward them.

“Uh...guys,” he said, his voice cracking slightly. “We’ve got company.”

Starfire spun around, now following his line of sight. She began firing once more, this time with slightly more precision.

“They’re gonna be right on top of us,” Raven said, gritting her teeth. “I have to drop the screen. I think it’s--”

But Beast Boy didn’t wait for her to finish the thought. He hadn’t been able to do much on the mission so far. But now, with so many targets in front of him, he could feel the blood thumping in his ears, more loudly than the voice of his friend.

In the next moment, he felt his claws dig into the wet earth, and then into sharp metal and sparking wires as he pounced and ripped off one of the approaching figure’s arms. Having the jaws of a bengal tiger made the the task as simple as snapping a toothpick. Beast Boy pounded forward, barely dodging several strikes from what appeared to be some sort of metal staff. When he was within a foot of the wielder, he leapt directly at them, aiming for the center of the staff they now held up in defense.

But instead of reveling in the satisfaction of watching the staff broken in half at his feet, Beast Boy suddenly found that he was the one of the ground again. His right leg coursed with a numbing electric pain, and every nerve in his body felt distant--misplaced.

With a nearly invisible swipe, the staff and its wielder had spun out of his reach, only to knock him down with an incredibly basic low sweep. On his back, reeling with pain, he looked up at the shadowy figure hovering over him now. Blue and white sparks flew off the cold metal of the staff, which they raised above them, ready to deliver the final blow. Beast Boy closed his eyes tight. It wouldn’t actually be the final blow of course. But it definitely wasn’t going to be pretty either.

Just as he was about to accept that being bedridden for a week wouldn’t be all bad, a blaring noise passed over him, followed by an inhuman scream. He opened his eyes, squinting just enough to see Raven hovering off to his left.

“You can thank me later,” she said, barely glancing at him before firing another bolt of shadow into the fray. “On your right.”

Beast Boy looked up again and, with his good leg, used the same move that had bested him to take out the oncoming attacker. In one swift swipe, the figure was on the ground, falling face first into the mud. With a subtle smirk, Beast Boy quickly transformed again--this time into an alligator--and chomped down on the attacker’s leg.

The figure fell limp, but just as it did, Beast Boy felt the pain coursing through his right leg again--this time radiating all the way up into what would have been his thigh. He slipped back into human form, pulling the knee tight up against his chest. No matter which way he turned it, the pain didn’t disappear.

It was during this moment that he realized just how quiet the scene had become. When he looked back up at the battlefield before him he only saw a handful of enemies left standing--and they were clearly outmatched. In the entire time it had taken him to take down two goons, his friends had managed to wipe out the other thirty or so.

He rested his forehead on his knee and exhaled a long sigh. Yeah. Typical.

“I’ve found something!” Starfire called in the distance.

He lifted his head to see her crouched over one of the bodies on the ground. After a moment she stood back up, brandishing a small object in her hand. Meeting Beast Boy’s eyes, she flew over to him.

“Beast Boy--are you the hurt?”

“I’m fine,” he said, shaking his head. “Just...tired.” Though even as he said it, he could feel the muscles in his leg throbbing in pain.

Raven appeared silently behind Starfire, who looked down at the object again. She sighed. “It is the same symbol as that from the other attacks.”

There was a pause as Beast Boy studied her expression, which was relieved and distraught at the same time. And then he noticed Raven, who was staring straight at him, squinting.

“Why’re you looking at me like that?” he said, eyebrow raised.

“I’m not looking at you ,” Raven said, rolling her eyes.

“What?”

“Scoot over,” she said, waving her hand.

Even though it hurt to do so, he did, moving a foot away from the tree trunk he’d propped himself up against.

Raven crouched down next to him and began digging through the soggy leaves. The rain was starting to let up, but in the aftermath of the storm everything was still a muddy mess. After a moment, her efforts revealed an incredibly dim, blinking red light buried under the roots of the large oak tree.

Beast Boy furrowed his brow in confusion “How’d you--?”

“Your ass was blinking,” she said, pressing the dim light, which was apparently also a button. A small translucent panel popped out of the bark of the tree just above it.

“Why were you staring at my ass?” Beast Boy said, unable to resist flashing a snarky smile at her as he said it

Starfire giggled, a hand at her mouth trying to contain herself.

Raven shot her a look and she immediately dropped it. She looked back at the panel that had appeared on the tree. “It looks like a fingerprint scanner,” she said, eyes narrowed.

Without a word, Raven looked back out over the battlefield. She extended a hand out in the direction of one of the fallen androids. In an instant, a dismembered arm flew into her hand. She removed the dirty leather glove from the end of it, revealing a small bit of ultra-realistic latex skin that had managed to stay attached to the hand. Sure enough, the grotesque realism included fingerprints.

She pushed each finger up against the scanner, one by one. When she got to the ring finger, the panel finally blinked green and, after a moment, receded back into the trunk.

For a moment, nothing happened. And in that short span of time, Beast Boy managed to climb to his feet, making a conscious effort to look as uninjured as possible. Of course, when the ground began to shake and he fell flat on his ass again, he was sure he wasn’t convincing anyone.

To their right, a particular pile of leaves rustled a little more than the rest. With a loud click, a perfect circle began to cut itself out in the forest floor. There was just enough moonlight now to illuminate a narrow metal ladder leading down the edge of it.

“Well that was...easy,” Raven said, her tone tinged with even more distrust than usual.

“Who cares?” Beast Boy said, finally making it to his feet for the second time. “Time to kick some secret society android ass motherfu--!” He took one triumphant step forward, and, for the fourth time that night, found himself covered in mud on the forest floor.

Raven looked down at him from where she was standing, specifically eyeing his right leg, which he’d instinctively reached out for after the fall.

“You’re not coming,” she said, matter-of-factly.

“ What ?”

“Stay here and wait for Robin. Starfire and I will take care of it,” she said, ready to turn around and be on her way.

“But I just got here!” Beast Boy whined. “And I—“ He began to complain, but winced as the numbing pain coursed through his leg again.

Raven shot him a look over her shoulder. A look that told him that arguing with her wouldn’t be worth the trouble.

“Alright, alright,” Beast Boy grumbled. “Staying here.” He threw his arms up in the air in surrender and plopped down on the damp forest floor, leaning back up against the tree.

Starfire gave him a sympathetic smile, but drifted away with Raven as soon as she started to make her way down the passage. And in a moment, he was completely alone again.

“You know,” he yelled at the nothingness, “there’s lots of dangerous animals that don’t even have legs!”

The ironic chirp of crickets in the distance was the only reply he got.

Beast Boy looked around once more at the bodies littering the ground. He felt something akin to frustration bubble up in him. Seeing them all lying so still, he could actually get an idea of how many enemies they’d been up against. And how he was only responsible for taking down two of them. He couldn’t just quit here. If he did, it would be like he’d never even showed up to begin with. Like he’d barely contributed to the match. And that was the last thing he wanted.

Beast Boy eyed the opening in the ground that his two friends had just disappeared into. Then he shot one last glance at the army of androids littering the ground like old rag dolls.

“Raven wants me to play babysitter? Yeah, as if.”

With support from the tree trunk behind him, he pulled himself to his feet one last time. He could manage to stand on his own--and even walk a little if he was careful. But he was kidding himself. As much as he hated to admit it, Raven had been right about the severity of his injury.

He thought for a moment about what he could transform into. Something that wouldn’t require him to use his legs—at least not for movement. Something small and inconspicuous—something not even Raven would notice. Something that wouldn’t have any trouble getting down that tunnel.

One idea quickly came to mind. In a flash, he went from standing still to beating his miniature wings so fast he could barely see them. He felt invisible--which was exactly what he wanted. He hovered over the pit. And as for his usual dilemma, he didn’t have a thing to worry about. After all, humming birds were already green.

The passage underground was dark, damp, and at least three times as cold as the wind chill on the surface.  As Beast Boy fluttered downward, a slight breeze pushed back against him, which admittedly made him start to second guess the whole humming bird thing.

Eventually however, the breeze started to level off, and Beast Boy could make out a faint yellow glow coming into focus beneath him. When he finally reached the source of the light, the breeze dispersed altogether as the tunnel opened into a wide room.

It was roughly what he’d expected. If you’ve see one underground hideout you’ve seen ‘em all.

Old subway tiles lined the wall. Though they’d probably been white at one point, now they were as brown as the rough dirt floor. The room itself was empty, save for a stream of water running along one edge of it. The water originated from somewhere beyond a grate in the eastern wall. It simply passed through, and exited out another grate at the opposite end. In the far left corner, another dim yellow light illuminated the only other point of entry built into the room. The whole scene looked a bit like the indie horror games Beast Boy never had the guts the finish.

He flew across the room toward the light, which revealed a long empty hallway.

Unmarked doors lined each side of the dirty tile, walls. The narrow space reeked of antiseptic and decaying wood. He quickly made his way down the hall, which fortunately had few twists and turns. Smaller hallways occasionally branched off of the main one, but they only led to clusters of doors. Doors that were all either locked or held nothing but some unremarkable chairs and tables inside them.

Whoever had designed this place had clearly been playing too many video games.

As he went deeper however, the atmosphere began to change slightly. The tiles lining the hallway gradually looked whiter, cleaner, newer --as if the hall had only recently been constructed. Down here, instead of just blank doors and empty rooms, signs began to pop up next to the door handles. They ranged in description from things like ‘JANITOR’ and ‘STORAGE’’ to things like ‘NEUROEPIGENETICS’ and ‘CRYOCONSERVATION’. Beast Boy was just beginning to wonder what the last two could possibly mean when he heard the faintest echoes of voices bouncing around an upcoming corner. And at least two of them were instantly recognizable.

He darted forward as quickly and as silently as his wings would carry him. It wasn’t long before the familiar sounds of Starfire’s energy bolts and Raven’s chanting joined the mix. When he turned a corner at the end of the hallway, the scene came into full view before him.  

The room, or rather warehouse, was incredibly large, the decor just as plain and white as the route to get there. But unlike the other rooms he’d seen on his way over, this one wasn’t empty. Stacks upon stacks of large wooden crates and cardboard boxes lined the walls and sat in groups all over the floor. The ceiling reached incredible heights--it had to be at least fifty feet tall—and there were several stacks of crates that reached all the way to the top. It resembled the backlot of a Home Depot, that is, if the mulch and flowers had been replaced with suspicious, unmarked boxes.

The boxes aside, the room was wide open, so it wasn’t hard to get a good look at the fight going on. Beast Boy swallowed hard.

On the floor, there were already several people down. They looked just like the androids--black jumpsuits and masks that showed only their eyes. But none of them were sparking or twitching like broken machinery. Instead, they were writhing on the floor in pain--still alive of course. But it was the alive part that changed things.

In the ceiling corner diagonal to him, Beast Boy watched as Raven raised her hands, gritting her teeth as she heaved a forklift into the air and shot it toward a group of people, their weapons aimed directly at her. There was a loud crash, followed by a stream of red bullets flying from the cloudy aftermath of the wreckage. Raven dodged each one of them with an expert precision.

On the other side of the room, Starfire brutally yelled at one of goons in Tamaranian. She whipped around, blasting another small group of them with a beam of green light from her left hand. With her right, she cut down one of the ceiling beams, which subsequently crashed down on top of another few.

But despite their efforts, there were just too many of them to handle all at once. And the extras didn’t seem particularly interested in fighting back. They were trying to run away--and they were trying to take something with them.

In the corner the farthest away from the rest of the fighting, Beast Boy watched about ten or fifteen individuals scramble to transfer a particular set of crates into a white van. The engine was already running, the driver ready to take off at any moment.

Raven and Starfire were more than qualified to handle anything their opponents were dishing out. But they were outnumbered--and now they were stuck holding off the distraction.

Beast Boy felt his blood pumping again. This was his chance. Er...second chance. To not just be the distraction or the plan B, but to take center stage. And once again, it sparked something in him that he didn’t quite know how to control.

So he didn’t try to control it.

Any worry he had about Raven catching him immediately vanished. He didn’t care about being inconspicuous. He wanted to be seen. And a two ton rhinoceros was definitely more visible than a humming bird.

He hit the ground running, savoring the crack of the tile beneath his legs as he ran. The adrenaline coursing through his veins rendered all of the pain it caused him irrelevant. The ground shook, and instantly he could feel that all eyes were on him, even though he was too focused on the target in front of him to see them. He charged, head lowered, horn pointed directly at the group behind the truck, ready to—

“BEAST BOY!”

He instantly skidded to a stop. But he’d put the brakes on a second too late.

The criminals ducked out of the way, spared by his split second of hesitation. The driver revved the engine, Raven’s furious words still echoing off the walls.

They were the last thing he heard before he smashed head first into the wall.

When he opened his eyes, he felt his knees going weak underneath him. The only thing holding him upright was his horn, which was firmly pinned through the tile, behind the plaster of the wall. Pain shot through his leg again, and with a yank to free himself, he fell over, his thick skin scraping against the cold shards of broken tile that littered the floor.

Reverting back to his human form was less a choice than it was an obligation. Again, Beast Boy pulled himself up against the wall for support. He looked down at his bloodied palms, felt the taste of blood on his lips. And those were just the new additions to the injuries he’d already sustained.

“Fuck,” he whispered to himself, rubbing a hand across his temple. More blood.

He closed his eyes tight. But the room was bright enough that, even so, he noticed the instant a large shadow fell over him. He opened his eyes, squinting against the lights in the distance. Looming over him was the entire group of individuals he had pinned as easy targets only a moment before.

“Uh...hey there,” he said, with a faltering half smile. “Nice outfits. They new?”

Suddenly, one of the figures stepped forward out of the group. In their hand they held a long metal staff. They gave it a shake and blue sparks began to fire off the end of it.

“Oh. Right,” he said, his shoulders slumping. “That.”

This time he didn’t try and fight it.

Surprisingly, knowing what was coming actually just made things worse. This time he wasn’t caught off guard. And with no distractions, every single brain cell was free to experience the electrifying punch that landed smack in the middle of his chest.

“AHHHHH!!” he yelled so loudly he could barely hear himself think. His eyes shut tight again, this time automatically, and he could feel his entire body curling in on itself. The only control he had left was his ability to scream, and even that felt alien. Like it wasn’t really his voice he was hearing.

He tried to open his eyes, but the entire world was fading into a black static screen. The static itself became more and more muted, like even the TV was starting to lose power. His stomach wretched, and his breathing quickened. But no matter how many breaths he took it was never enough.

Not far off in the distance he heard a loud, muffled growl, followed by the crashing of crates in every direction surrounding him.

The roar of a truck engine and skidding tires rang in his ears, then grew more and more distant.

“Raven!” A second voice yelled, a little farther off. “They are escap—“

Another growl. A voice spitting words in a language Beast Boy didn’t understand. More explosions. The ping of stray bullets reflecting off the walls.

Beast Boy dared to try and open his eyes one more time. Everything was still hazy, but he could make out the shapes and colors before him. He inhaled, finding that his breathing was already beginning to even out. His muscles ached. His chest ached. Every inch of his body hurt like hell.

But he was...fine. Relatively speaking. He was a superhero after all. He’d just gotten his ass handed to him. Again.  

But Raven didn’t know that.

The instant the thought occurred to him, he froze--and not just because of the literal paralysis.

Raven didn’t know he was perfectly conscious.

Beast Boy had dedicated countless hours--entire years of his life--to the art of pulling off the perfect prank. He’d gotten everyone at least one point or another over the years. Even Silkie . But pranking Raven had always been like trying to solve a puzzle where none of the pieces fit together. It was impossible. He’d tried everything. Or so he’d thought.

He shut his eyes tight again, this time biting the inside of his lip to keep himself from blowing his cover. If he could get away with this, he could get away with anything .

In a matter of moments, the noises began to fade. The last shots were fired, followed by the thud of a body hitting the floor. And then footsteps that stopped right up next to the side of his face. Someone pausing to lean down.

“Beast Boy, get up,” Raven said sternly, her voice close to his ear. So close he could nearly feel her breath on his face.

Instead of responding though, he continued to lie there, focusing every bit of willpower he had on holding his breath and keeping as still as humanly possible.

Needless to say, doing so became more difficult when he felt two icy fingers press up against the side of his neck. The minute Raven’s skin made contact with his own, he felt a shiver run down his spine. For a brief moment it occurred to him how foreign her touch was. Despite have known each other for so many years now, they rarely ever made physical contact. The only exception was accidentally kicking each other under the table at dinner or smashing into each other in a fight. Raven wasn’t exactly the kind of person you casually brushed up against in the hallway or high-fived after wrapping up a mission. It was a small thing, but in that moment, it felt huge.

“Oh come on,” she muttered under her breath, more to herself than to him. “Look, I already said I don’t have time for your stupid jokes.”

Beast Boy continued to hold his breath, dually to keep himself from breaking character and to keep himself from snickering.

And then she grabbed him firmly by the shoulders and started shaking. Lightly at first, then a little more abruptly. That was something he hadn’t anticipated at all --but at the very least the motion was enough to obscure the rise and fall of his chest as he snuck in a quick breath. Once she set him down on his back again, he relaxed his muscles completely, picturing the image of a rag doll and trying his best to mimic it.

Raven paused. She pulled away for a minute. There was a soft whistle as she breathed in sharply through her teeth.

“Shit,” she whispered, the syllable uttered harsh and quick. It gave Beast Boy pause for a moment.

“ Shit ,” she repeated, her voice shaking a little. There was a distinct lack of apathy in her tone as she said it. For a split second it almost sounded like she was...concerned. Actually concerned .

And suddenly Beast Boy was too.

This had been a bad idea.

A very bad idea.

But before he could pretend to ‘wake up’ and avoid fucking up the situation any more than he already had, Raven picked him up. Not with magic. She actually picked him up full on princess style. Of course, Raven was naturally stronger than the average person, despite mainly relying on magic when it came to fighting. Just another tiny detail about her that suddenly felt very significant.

Beast Boy felt himself freeze up again--but this time it wasn’t an act. What exactly was going on here? And why did he feel so...weird about it?

A second later they were moving.

Beast Boy’s heart began to pound. If he’d been able to pick up on Raven’s scent from over a mile a way, he could definitely smell it now. It was on her clothes and on her skin--both of which he was pressed directly up against. Suddenly two fingers on his neck seemed like nothing. He took a cautious breath in through his nose, not having really decided whether it would be best to keep playing along for now or blow the whole thing.

But the idea of there even being an option didn’t last long, because in the next instant, the unimaginable happened.

He sneezed.

Raven skidded to a stop immediately. When she looked down, she locked eyes with a very conscious, very much alive, very much panicking Beast Boy.

There was only one road out now--and it was the one he least wanted to take.

Playing along with his original joke. His shitty, poorly thought out joke .

If he could play it off as much, maybe he’d be able to slide out of this. Raven would roll her eyes and drop him on the ground. And it would be like it never even happened.

He threw a hand over his forehead. “The...light...” he choked dramatically. “Closer to the light.” He outstretched his other hand toward the sky—which was suddenly moving upward with lightning speed...as he fell flat on his back.

He’d expected as much. What he didn’t expect was the absence of a snarky remark from the girl who’d just dropped him.

Just then, he noticed Starfire finally making her way over to them. She was panting, sweating, completely out of breath. “I tried to follow them but--” She gasped, hands flying up to either side of her face. “Is everything the alright?” she asked, looking down at Beast Boy on the ground.

There was a pause.

“Yeah. Everything’s fine,” Raven said, a hint of hostility in her voice. Without another word, she turned sharp on her heel and began to walk back the way they had come.  

Watching her go, Starfire extended a hand out to Beast Boy, helping him up. “What is wrong with friend Raven?”

“Pfft,” he said, trying his hardest to laugh it off. “Nothing’s wrong with her. She just doesn’t know how to take a joke.” But even as he said the words, he knew that what he’d done had been more than just a joke. It had teetered on a pretty dangerous line. Maybe even crossed it.

Starfire looked puzzled. “How can a joke be taken if it is merely a string of sounds?” she asked.

“I—it’s not important,” Beast Boy said, his mind elsewhere.

The trip back was slow and tiring. Beast Boy insisted that he could walk on his own for all of two minutes before letting Starfire carry him the rest of the way. By the time they made it back to the top of the tunnel they’d entered through, it felt like the battle they’d just fought took place a week ago. Maybe more. Time seemed to move more slowly--maybe because Beast Boy was preoccupied, mentally slapping himself every passing second.

When they reached the clearing, Raven was sitting criss cross in the air at the opposite end, meditating.

“I suppose we will have to tell Robin that we have failed,” Starfire said sadly, helping Beast Boy sit up against a nearby tree.

“Eh, what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him,” Beast Boy said, trying desperately to sound uninterested and unaffected. “I figure we’ve got some time to make up a convincing story before he gets here.”

But just as Beast Boy closed his mouth, a flash of bright yellow headlights cut through the trees, rushing toward them. A vehicle—unmistakably Robin’s motorcycle—skidded to a halt just at the edge of the clearing. The figure riding it lifted off his helmet and gave his short dark hair a ruffle before swinging off the bike and walking toward them.

“Finally! Do you know how long it took me to find you all without any tracking devices?” he said, panting. “Cyborg’s been going nuts trying to--” Then he paused and took a moment to look around more closely at the scene. First he looked over at Raven in the corner, her back to the rest of the group. Then he glanced down at Beast Boy, limply propped up against the tree and covered in blood. Finally he looked at Starfire, who had never learned how to keep a particularly convincing poker face.

Robin’s own facial expression shifted dramatically, his tone dropping. “What. Happened .”

“I—we—there was—” Beast Boy fumbled, pointing at himself, then Raven, then at the hole to his left.

“Beast Boy happened,” Raven interjected, harshly, her back still turned to them.

“Beast Boy?” Robin repeated, addressing him directly.

“I don’t know what she’s talking about,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest, avoiding eye contact.

Robin threw him a skeptical look.

“He was hurt,” Raven said, finally turning around. “So I told him to stay behind—and did he? No. Of course not. He came running after us trying to ‘help’,” she scoffed, making air quotes as she said it. “Queue Mr. Genetic Mistake rushing in with a broken leg and getting knocked out, making ajoke out of it, and buying the idiots we were chasing just enough time to escape.”

Robin turned back to looked at him, disappointed.

“She forgot the part where I was the one who figured out where they were hiding,” he said defiantly, pointing at himself. His caution momentarily replaced by an edge of defensiveness.

“Yeah,” Raven sneered. “By ringing the doorbell.”

“At least it helped us find the entrance!”

“An entrance they’re definitely going to close off or relocate because now we know where it is .”

Robin sighed a long, deep sigh. “Alright. That’s enough.” He rubbed his temples, eyes shut. “We can’t do anything about it now except hope to do better next time. Raven, help him out, would you?” he said, nodding toward Beast Boy. “Star, there’s some stuff I wanna ask you about the people you fought.”

Before she turned her back on him, Starfire shot Beast Boy one last sympathetic look. Though this one felt less like a ‘I feel for you,’ look, and more like a ‘glad it’s not me’ look.

Beast Boy looked down at the ground. He couldn’t risk meeting Raven’s eyes.

She approached him slowly, also avoiding looking directly at him. She crouched down next to him, silently placing her hands over his injured leg. A cloud of energy began to swirl above it, and the pain started to subside slowly but steadily.

Beast Boy snagged a quick glance at her face, trying to read her expression. She didn’t budge, as if healing him took every ounce of her concentration. He knew it didn’t.

For the third time that night, he felt somehow...uncomfortable with their close proximity. The silence only made things worse. So, without thinking, he tried to break it the only way he knew how.

“You’re just mad ‘cause I finally got you ,” he said, trying to manage a playful smile. He imagined that the one he mustered up wasn’t completely convincing.

Suddenly Raven stopped. The light faded from her hands. She stood up and looked down at him, this time dead in the eye.

“Not everything is a joke, Beast Boy,” she said sternly. “And one day, you’re gonna learn that the hard way.”

Beast Boy just sat there for a moment, processing what she had said. He tried to think of a response--some offhand one-liner that would lighten the mood. Those were his speciality. But he was drawing a blank.

“Alright you guys, let’s head home,” Robin called from the distance. “We’ll figure out what to do next tomorrow.”

Raven remained silent for another moment. She continued to looked down at Beast Boy, then she looked off to the side. It was subtle, but Beast Boy thought he heard her whisper something to herself under her breath.

She turned her back on him and walked away.

He crawled back to his feet on his own.

No one turned back to help him up.

[lunasohma]

phantom menace (under the weather)

[ ao3 / ff.net ]

Kuroko is sick, but he has good friends. 

Momoi places her hand on Kuroko's forehead. He startles and she tsks.

"Tetsu-kun," she starts seriously. Kuroko backs up a little. "I'm going to get Akashi-kun if you don't go to the nurse's office right now."

"Momoi-san, are you my mother?" She raises an eyebrow. Kuroko plows on. "I didn't think so. Now kindly let me get back to practice."

It's Momoi who keeps him from face-planting onto the gym floor. She helps him to the nearest bench and gently lays him down.

"Tetsu-kun, are you... pouting?" Kuroko turns so that his face is acquainted with the slatted surface of the bench and resolutely ignores Momoi's soft laughter.

Kuroko Tetsuya has nothing against winter. But he also has nothing against microbes. His weak constitution was always a large concern of his grandmother's, but now that she's been permanently hospitalized, Kuroko fends for himself.

The winter months bring out the worst in Kuroko because with them usually comes a virulent tempest of sickness. The storm cloud that brews around Kuroko typically goes unnoticed by those around him. No matter how ornery or sickly he becomes, his weak presence masks his angst effectively.

This time, however, is different.

"Tetsu!" Aomine's voice rings out in the empty classroom and does nothing good for Kuroko's sinus pressure. "I've got notes for you!" The taller boy states this proudly, standing before him. He has the enthusiasm of a puppy who's retrieved a stick. Kuroko has to consciously keep himself from pointing this out; the fog of sickness somehow loosens his tongue.

"Aomine-kun," Kuroko looks up at him. "Has notes for me." Does not compute.

"Come on, Tetsu - don't be mean! I pay attention in class sometimes!" Kuroko levels a blank stare at him. "And you were, uh, sleeping through most of it, so I figured you might need 'em," he adds, with a small grin. Kuroko belatedly notices the small puddle of drool on his desk.

"So yeah! Notes!" The chicken scratch is remarkably earnest and thoroughly indecipherable. It was kind, Kuroko thinks.

"Thank you, Aomine-kun." He means it.

Kise is being extra clingy today, probably because it's cold, and Kuroko is having none of it.

"Kurokocchi, are you pinching me?! Owowowow—" Kuroko has no remorse and stamps down on the blond's foot with all the wrath of an angry god. Kise yelps and bounces out of range, looking hurt.

He feels bad (relatively quickly for where Kise is concerned) and apologizes as sincerely as he can with a stuffy nose. The other boy recovers quickly as per usual and they continue walking, Kise talking enough for the both of them.

Massaging his temples, Kuroko closes his eyes and rifles through his pocket for tissues.

"Kurokocchi, do you have a cold?" Kise asks, tilting his head to the side. Kuroko cracks one eye open to look at him.

"Something of the sort," he blows his nose dejectedly, "always happens around this time of year." He waves goodbye to Kise since they've reached the intersection where they part.

"Wait!" Kise frantically scampers after him. Kuroko turns to fix him with a deadpan glare. Being sick usually cuts his glares' effectiveness in half (something about red, rheumy eyes), but he's gonna work with what he's got. However, Kise is doggedly determined.

"I can help!" he says excitedly, "Let's go to the store first - I gotta pick some things up!" He leaves no room for argument and takes a hold of Kuroko's wrist. He has no strength to dig his heels in (damn these cold aches), so he ends up trailing around after the other boy.

Kise pays for everything—

("Model's paycheck!" A signature wink was tossed his way. Kuroko resisted the urge to walk out of the store.)

—and they end up taking it all back to Kuroko's.

"My sisters used to take care of me when I got sick," Kise is explaining as he's deftly slicing vegetables. "And then I took care of them when they finally allowed me near the stove." Kuroko is seated at the table, his appetite actually surfacing for the first time this week. Savory cooking scents fill the kitchen for the first time in a long while. If Kise had noticed the disuse of the place, he didn't voice it.

"They've both moved out now, but they left me some great recipes and I've memorized them all!" He sets the steaming bowl in front of Kuroko with a flourish. He's beaming with pride and it's rightly warranted.

It's really good.

Aomine crouches in front of Kuroko's prone form and neatly rolls the ball out of his limp hands, wiping it off on the front of his shirt. Kuroko, even in his feverish state, can recognize this as unsanitary and says as much. At the same time, Momoi aims a pack of disinfectant wipes at Aomine's head.

The taller boy grins and tells him not to worry. Apparently, he can't get sick. Momoi recounts all the times that Aomine ate dirt as a kid. He's bizarrely proud of the fact ("Must've done something right!") and Momoi shakes with silent laughter behind him.

Kuroko rolls onto his back with a long-suffering sigh, blinking hazily in the too-bright lights of the gym.

"I feel like shit," he utters dully.

That gets Aomine's attention. "What was that, Tetsu?"

"I said," Kuroko grouses, "I feel like shit and I want to die." He rolls back onto his front, soundly ignoring Aomine's howls of laughter and Momoi's expression of horror.

Midorima had gotten wind of Aomine's abysmal notetaking skills and had promptly taken over from him.

"Unexpectedly, Midorima-kun is quite the mother hen," Kuroko deadpanned.

That had gotten Midorima on a passionate rant about academic responsibility, which kind of proved Kuroko's point, but he didn't reiterate it.

Midorima's notes are exceedingly competent and Kuroko feels as though he's been blessed. And no matter how much Aomine and Kise whine, he makes sure they don't get so much as a peek. He even surprises himself. A sick Kuroko can be quite vindictive.

Midorima sews, as it turns out. And knits and crochets - the whole nine yards. Kuroko learns that knitting and crocheting are two very different things after an offhand comment of Aomine's. Kuroko had wisely kept his mouth shut.

It had started with the threadbare elbows on Kuroko's coat sleeves; Midorima had zeroed in like a hawk. It only escalated from there. He now has an assortment of homemade goods, ranging from scarves to mittens to a quilt. Soon enough, Kuroko is drowning in yarn.

It's very warm.

It's 9 a.m. on a Saturday (read: too early) and Akashi has the aura of a benevolent monarch, looking quite satisfied with his showing. There is, absurdly, a small moving crew accompanying him, unloading a small van.

"Akashi-kun-"

"Not another word, Kuroko." The red-haired captain is fairly giddy. Kuroko may be hallucinating. "I won't take them back until you're feeling 100% again."

Kuroko glances around at the various items starting to pile up. An assortment of humidifiers and incense diffusers, a space heater, surprisingly technical blankets (apparently they heat up and cool down), numerous baskets of citrus. The list goes on and floor space is shrinking at an alarming rate.

Kuroko opens his mouth again, but he really has no words.

Akashi beams.

Cold rain is pelting the windows and Kuroko is grateful for the fact that he's inside, cocooned in a myriad of blankets. He's working his way through the limited-edition snacks that Murasakibara has been giving him throughout the week, many of which are vanilla-flavored. In moderation, of course.

He hears a knock at the door and he is loath to leave his nest. Since there is no one to hear his petulant stomping, he pads quietly to the door.

"Kuro-chin. Our cat had kittens." Murasakibara is wearing an all-encompassing raincoat, which is also shielding a very small cat. Kuroko hurriedly ushers them in.

In the kitchen, Murasakibara is tending to tea.

The kitten is wading its way through the peaks and valleys of Kuroko's blanket nest, curiously sniffing all the while. Kuroko falls in love (just a bit). It's mostly black but has white-socked paws. It also has startlingly blue eyes.

"It must be fate," Murasakibara says, handing Kuroko a steaming mug.

"I didn't think you believed in that sort of thing too, Murasakibara-kun." The taller boy simply shrugs, joining Kuroko on the floor.

"They always make me feel better when I have a cold."

"I would've thought that snacks and sweets did that." Murasakibara considers this.

"It usually takes both," he replies as he carefully places the kitten in Kuroko's lap.

Akashi is saying something, but Kuroko can't quite make it out. The captain's words are muffled and Kuroko's head is full of fluff. His vision is getting blurry.

"Akashi-kun." The other boy stops. "I think I am going to faint."

He does.

He wakes up in his bed, miracle of miracles. He can hear familiar voices downstairs.

"Breaking and entering," Kuroko accuses, narrowing his eyes from the doorway. He's brought his comforter down.

"Hardly, Kuroko," Akashi looks pleased. "We used your keys."

"Entering, then," he amends, making his way to the last free seat in the kitchen.

Kise's at the stovetop. At this point, he's pretty much memorized the fridge, cabinets, and pantry. Aomine's helping him and he has a knife. Everyone must be getting sick if that had gotten approved.

Kuroo's up on the table. The kitten is alternating between chasing the feather toy Murasakibara's got and the loose yarn of Midorima's latest project. It looks like another scarf.

Momoi gives him a warm smile as he sinks into his chair, sliding over some cold medicine and a glass of water.

"Feeling better, Tetsu-kun?"

Objectively, no. His head is pounding, his nose is stuffed up, and his throat burns, but somehow—

The atmosphere of the room is warm and comforting, the low buzz of conversation and sounds of cooking are soothing.

"Yeah," he says, "I really am."

[activatingaggro]

I’LL BRING THUNDER (i’ll bring rain)

RICCIN KAYATA | 9 SWEEPS / 21 YEARS OLD

A SEATOWN IN THE EASTERN SEA | 5860 WORDS

"You look nice," Liyiji tells you. "Almost like you're a decent fucking person."

The times that you've worn full paint can be counted on one hand. True paint, at least - concealer and cover-up has always felt lighter than the pigment smeared across your skin, pulling it gray enough to match Gliese, and it's always let you breathe. Concealer and cover-up have never felt like a shield between you and the crisp night air. You'd thought, even only a few perigees ago, that wearing full paint was just another burden that the indigoes were forced to adorn. The dank sort of joke that the Messiahs laid down upon the most blessed of castes, to even them out and pull them the fuck down when they got uppity. Grease paint always seemed like it was a punishment, as much as it was proof of your devotion.

But the weight of the paint's almost fucking merciful, right now. It's a different sort of sensation, something new and novel, and exactly what you need to distract you from your deja vu.

Because as you step off of Li's ship, and onto the thick, pink bridge anchoring his to the nearest houseboat, it feels almost like you're four perigees again, and you're finally coming back home.

You're deep in the Eastern Sea, at one of the seatowns that you'd used to visit as a sprog. It's too small to have ever gotten a name from the Empire. Only the largest of the Rickshaws get that sort of endorsement. No, the only name you've ever learned for it is what the locals called it: Kah Kin, to hurry, the place where everything is always moving, and nothing ever stays still. Because while some of the seatowns are anchored, entire flotillas of planks and boats permanently anchored around abandoned oil rigs and flooded lighthouses, Kah Kin is different. It's mobile, and the location changes every perigee.

So does the size. High above you, the moons have tucked themselves away behind their veils, and the sky is blood deep in its absence, deep enough that even the spackling of the nebula far above can't fucking light it. In the distance, it streaks into the horizon, rich purples blurring into the wine-dark sea until there's no way to tell them apart. If it weren't for the lanterns aboard each ship, you might've missed them entirely. But the sails are bright tonight, huge banners of white that pulse in the night sky like clouds, and fires sit on the deck of every boat, casting off just enough light to illuminate the next. Some nights, there's hardly any ships here at all.

Tonight, you think, there might be six hundred ships here, all hooked together by teetering ladders and bridges made of rope. It certainly sounds like it could be that many, the din loud enough that even you can hear it.

It's a queer feeling deep in your chest as you take it all in. You hadn't known you could be nostalgic for something like this, but here you are, mooning like a wriggler witnessing their first murder, and.. it's not often that you want to stand still, soak in the atmosphere. The air reeks of salt, harsh enough that your throat chafes at the stench of it, but it smells like the markets, too, that you'd grown up in. Prior to the program. Prior to Kindra, even, back when it was just you, Myrrha, Orpheo, Melete, and -

"Stop gawking," Liyiji scolds you, and gives your braid a sharp tug before he pushes past you on the rope.

"Who says I'm gawkin', brother?" You shake your head, casting your braid back over your shoulder, and the way the veil shifts across your shoulders is unfamiliar enough to stir you from your thoughts. "Maybe I'm just thinking." The last time you'd come here, you'd been four and a half, bright-eyed and eager for an adventure that Melete had promised you. Your hair'd still been short back then. That's another difference. You just need to keep remembering those.

"I said you're gawking. Are you deaf," he drawls, warm, "or just fucking stupid?" Liyiji's pushing forward, ignoring the welcoming volley of words from the shopkeep he passes. The way the boats are set up, everything's connected. If you were the right kind of psionic, you could leap high into the sky, take it all in proper, but you don't have to - you know how things are situated, out here. The boats are woven together like the strands of a net, tied to each of their neighbours like flies caught in a web. If a Rickshaw came across the lot of you without that network, you'd be ruined. There's be no room to flee, no room to flee: the boats would crash into each other in their hurry to get out, the frantic rush to save their own hides even at the expense of everyone else together. If the ropes were hemp, this sort of set-up would never be viable.

But the nets hooking the lot of you together ain't hemp. It's biowire, harvested by some stalwart soul before the adult Exodus, and kept in hand ever since. It's not made for space, these gunky pink lines: nah, they're old, made specially for ships, and the Empire can't bring itself to care about tech so fucking outdated. The biowire connects the logic centers of each ship together, like cells in a brain, and when one sends off an alert that they're being attacked, it draws on the energy from all of them to put up a shield, made of the same psionic energy that some folks use to go deep underwater. It'll let things out, but anything bigger than air just can't filter in.

It's the sort of thing that means there's a helm here, buried deep into one of these ships guts, with just enough ability to put that sort of thing up.

It's the sort of thing that's got you dressed in indigo from head-to-tail, with a clown's full paint coating your mug, all despite the fact that your veins run with liquid gold. You can be whatever chrome you want on land, where the law protects you, and folks have the Messiah’s sense to know what the white on your face means. Out here? The only time law matters is if it’s around to see you.

And the legislacerator’s on the seatowns keep their eyes closed shut.

"If you gotta ask.." You fall in step beside Liyiji as he steps onto the next bridge. The air's heady with incense here, drifting from the burners resting on each ship you pass through. None of 'em have had the courtesy to coordinate: the first you pass by has oranges burning away, the sticks still smoking, and the next has cloves, heavy enough that you can taste them on the back of your tongue. For you, it's just a bother. For Liyiji..

Well. Your invertebrother might be navy, but he's always been the weakest out of all the motherfuckers you've ever met. His ears are pinned as he navigates the crowds, dead-set on a spot that you ain't quite sure either of you know. Wretch must be bothered by the smell, living as he does all on his lonesome - but least he ain't showing it. Ain’t like there’s anything the either of you could do, if he did. "Oh, brother, look at this mug. Look at this goddamn rack. This pan’s too gilded to be fucking empty," you tell him instead, as a distraction, and he snorts, ears flicking forward for the briefest of seconds. "Unlike your ugly-ass mug. You tip out your pan to the gods, brother, or you actually know where we goin'? ‘cause when you said you had someone for me to meet, shit, I was expectin' - iunno - a goddamn teashop?"

You pause, peering at the next ship over. They're a ramshackle of a boat, with plywood nailed in to cover the holes in the cocoon, and a deck that keeps leaking what you hope's gotta be slime. They've got the door of their cabin swung wide open, covered from top to bottom in bowls, and the rest of their ships covered in baskets and displays, each full of stoneware that mostly ain't broken. "I ain't seen a teashop anywhere," you complain. There's snakes coiled over the plates, their eyes strange and wet like they were freshly painted, but that ain’t uncommon. The seafolk always decorate with snakes, like calling down on his kin will stop the Leviathan from wreaking their homes. "One that don't look like a lusus took a bite out of it."

"Why the fuck would I take you to a teahouse? So you could hit on the waitress, and I have to tip to make up for it..? Please, Riccin." He sounds peevish. But that's the delight of Li, you reckon: if he’s got the energy to act like someone shoved a sack of bees up his nook, then he’s still calm, not letting himself get bothered by the crowds brushing past the both of you. He’s navy, and you’re dressed in indigo, but that’s the wonder of the seatowns: so’s everyone fucking else. "No, I'm taking you to someone I think you want to meet. That's all."

He pauses. The tip of his ears flush blue, same way they always do when he gets to paying attention. Then he looks back at you, lashes low. Boy's got heavier lids than even Dysseu: when he does this, it's hard to get a feel on him at all, but for a moment, you almost think he's going to apologise.

The moment passes. "She's almost as foul as you," he says instead, then sets back to walking. "But she's got foresight. And you have questions. She takes payment in alcohol. She'll cut you for it to work."

Foresight. It's a tricky psi, that, and one of the rarest: there was a jade in Chiloa and Ico's creche that'd sported it, back when you were young, but you haven't thought of her in sweeps.  You whistle, low and impressed, then arch your eyebrows at him. "Foresight, brother? Does that shit work better than yours, or are we about to get fucking fleeced?" The crowd’s thinned around you as you’ve walked: it’s just the two of you on this next boat, and the boats surrounding you, the merchandise abandoned as their residents drifted towards the center.

"Mine is perfectly standard." Li's got a way with words. Each one drops like it's a personal goddamn disappointment, but you know him: the fact he's saying them at all is a sweet enough kind of affection. "And more useful. So fuck off. She does probabilities. She can tell you what’s most likely to happen, and how likely it is, and divine from there. Or you could just ask me, and I’ll -”

“- tell me all the grisly ass ways a motherfucker could die?” Something shifts inside one of the houseboat’s doorways, but when you squint, it’s just a ward, catching in the wind. A snake winks at you from the edges, all gild in gold, even as the shape calls for protection. “You ought to give up the divin’, brother, and just sell here. Why, look at these poor fools. Look at the lines they have fucking writ.” There’s another set of wards on the next boat’s shack, three stacked in a row, calling for protection, for health, for light. This tradition isn’t of the Mirthful faith - it’s some remnant kept live on the ocean floor, the sort that trickles up in streams and gasps to the sea’s surface, so you’ve got no qualms pulling it from the wall, waving the ward right at his face. “Look at this shit!” you crow. “They fear death so hard, they bring it into their fucking homes.”

“Sell divinations, so I can be surrounded by strangers, even when I’m asleep?” he asks, dry. “I’ll pass. Stop playing with the deco, Riccin, and hurry up. We’re almost there.”

And indeed, you almost are. The ships are abandoned this far out. The air’s clean, with naught but the fucking salt on the wind, and even the sounds are so far away, they’re muffled. The last few ships are spartan in their solitude. There are no lights on their rails, no candles in the windows or leds along their awnings. There’s just wards, their gilded edges catching the stars light, and the faint pink pulse of each bridge, visible now in the absence of the light.

When you cross the final bridge, onto the boat at the farthest outskirts of the town, you think the sea’s churning around you. But then your eyes adjust. It’s not the sea.  It’s a dozen little canoes with shutters drawn tight on their lanterns, staring in.

You pause mid-step.

“Li,” you say, but he’s seen it, too, and he’s pushing past you.

“Loxias!” he calls, then he pauses.

The brownblood sits in the middle of the boat, her head thrown back and her braids strewn across the floor around her like a cloak. From this angle, the line of her long neck looks like the sort of things trolls would've fought wars for, but then she moves. She's too long-limbed, too bony: the skin pricks at the back of your neck as she pulls herself to her feet, hands splayed with their spider-thin fingers flat against the deck.

She stands up, each movement jerky, like she ain't quite sure how to make each bit of her move on its own, and you take a step back. Liyiji’s paused beside you, his ears pinned back, eyes wide in the darkness.

"Something's wrong," Liyiji says, his voice strained. "Just -" He drags a hand down his braids, mouth drawing thin into a slash, then he glances at you side-long. "Just wait here? I'll check in on her."

She's not looking at the either of you. She's standing, half hunched, her back crooked like she can't quite manage to stand straight. She's still got one long, ungainly palm lying flat on the deck, but she doesn't look up when his feet hit the deck. She doesn't react at all, even, as he steps in closer, but your mouth's gone dry. You're right behind him, never mind his goddamn order, because there's something feral about the way she's holding herself.

It's the sort of look that you've seen on lusii gone rabid, and while you're sure trolls can't go rabid..

Well. It's not worth a risk, is it? Because she’s not looking at the two of you yet, but when Liyiji’s heel catches the deck hard, her ears twitch up. She looks at the two of you then, braids falling away, and there’s something queer about her eyes --

"Oh, for fuck's sake - don't go over there!" someone shouts from the nearest boat, hangs cupped around her, and Loxias pivots.

There ain’t nothing troll about the way she moves, that's the thing. It's limbs pushing like they don't know how limbs work, like a puppet with three strings cut: she jerks and she tilts to the side hard enough you think she must be about to fall right over with those foot long horns, but she manages to haul herself upright just in time.

She lunges for the side of the rail, fingers wrapping hard around it, and she tenses -

- then screams as the troll snaps the shutters on their lantern open. They swing it out wide and hard, so the oil splashes up against the walls and her face is caught in the full light. Your eyes ache with the change, enough that orange floods the corners, but it ain’t any cause to scream. It’s a sting, that’s all.

But she’s howling like something hurt, like the oil has gone through the glass and is eating into her skin.

"She's gone dark!" the troll hollers over the noise of her. "Get off the fucking boat! We’re burning it to the ground!'

"Gone dark," you repeat, looking at Li - but his face's gone bone pale, all his blue fading at once. "Li, what the fuck they on about?"

He wets his lips. But he's not looking at you. He's staring at Loxias, who's taken in a long, shakey breathe, deep enough that you can see her ribcage rattle with it. She slips back to the deck like all of her bones have been lost, her hair falling forward, her hands pressed to the front of her face to block out the light. She's back to moving her lips, words too high for you to hear proper, but you catch snippets - shit that don't make any sense, angels and songs and homes, but said all wrong.

"Li!" you snap, and you lean in, landing an elbow hard on his shoulder. He doesn't quite react, not until you hook around his horn, claws curving in - then he jerks away with a snarl, his pupils slit fear-thin against the blue of his iris.

"The fuck do you think it means?" He starts to curl his arms around himself. Then he stops, shoulders drawing up, and he drags a hand down his face instead. "We've got to go, Riccin," he says, ragged, but for all that he's speaking to you, he's looking at her. Loxias is back to looking almost harmless, but after the way you saw her moving.. there's nothing attractive in that shit now. "She's contaminated. If we stay near for too long, she might infect us, too."

"Contaminated with what?"

"With something dark," he snaps, "something worse than any of your fucking gods! Seatown bullshit! The reason they had those wards up! And we don't have anyone here to get rid of it, so we're just - we -" He swallows, takes a step back. "We're just going to have get rid of her. And if we stay on this boat any fucking longer, they're going to get rid of us."

"Get rid of her," you say, slow. "As in - what, brother, they gonna burn her? Her own people?" But of course they are. The troll off in the distance is still waving their lamp, their face too bright under it to make out their colour. And for all that there's a sea of faces all around you, everyone collected against the edge of their canoes to watch, ain't nobody stepping up to do a damn thing. Should you care? You don't suppose you should. This isn't your town. This isn't your fucking people.

The ward hangs heavy in your pocket, where you’d crammed it down. What point to care is there, when their own ways did fucking naught?

But you know what it's like, to have folks that ought to stand by you turn on you instead. Raphae did his job right when you asked him, no matter how Chiloa sniffed, or how distraught Kindra became. There's no ache left when the thought strikes you anymore, no pain: nah, there's just the sour-sweet sting of the truth, and that's a taste you're learning to get used to. You've never wanted to get used to it. But there hadn't been a choice, had it?

You’ve got a choice now.

"No," you decide. "We ain't."

"Riccin -" He snatches at your shoulder, but you're already striding forward. He doesn't follow, and that ain't a slight. Li's seatown raised, seatown bred, and who are you to ask him to turn against himself? He's true to his nature, same as any lusus, but he's loyal, too: when you look back, he's pulled his trident off of his back, and angled to look towards the crowd. His chin's up, his horns angled in a rake, in the sort of dare that no one seems keen to protest.

He won’t follow you on, but he won’t let none of ‘em intervene, either.

Let him hold them back, then, as you approach the girl. Or, no - the adult, for what you'd taken as an adolescent's gangliness is just the queer shapes of an adult underfed, lengths all wrong for any troll ascended. She's got the knobby knees of Dysseu, when you get closer, stretched thin whereas Sipara'd been squashed short. She's got his long fingers, too, and when she looks up, she's got his gaunt cheeks.

But her eyes are the opposite. These ain't bone-white: they're black, deep as any pit, and your breath catches in an involuntary growl when you see them. The colour's too dark for psi, too curved to pass of as an empty socket. You would've blamed contacts, if you thought anybody was fool enough to play that kind of game. But it ain't contacts. It's like gas, almost, and as you stare into it, you think you can see it moving, strand by strand, thick as an atmosphere over a planet. You can't see her bulbs behind all of it, but she angles her head towards the sound of you, like she can see you.

You can't even see if she's got bulbs, still.

She pulls herself up, rickety, her shoulders bending like they might pop straight out.

"What's going on? Is she - is she burning out?" Liyiji calls, but it's not quite a question

For the best, because it ain't one you can answer. Loxias isn't stepping towards you. Nah, girl just flings herself straight at you, hard enough that you have to catch her with your hands, and she's keening, low and heady in a set of sounds that just don't work together, a lusus's keen of 'come here' hooked in with a pupa's screech for blood, for food, for attention, for anything and everything they can receive. It’s all slip-slod over words too low for you to properly hear, her mouth-gestures too mealy for you to properly read, if you had the attention for it.

You don’t. It's a good thing she's bone thin, more waifish than even Pheres for her size, or else she might push straight past your grip. As is, she pushes and she presses, making that sound until your ears pin to escape it, and - Messiahs fucking above.

This close, you can see the way the things over her eyes coils, the movement undeniable. It's like watching stormclouds, almost, in a way that makes you bare your fangs, your words caught in a tangle at the back of your throat. You hate it, is the thing, for all that you don’t know what it is. A pupa doesn’t have to know the sun to fear the light, and the urge to pick her up, throw her into the sea or the flames each time that smoke churns, is almost impossible to fight.

But you're not going to cull her, no matter how much your pan’s screaming it needs to be done. You're going to help her, and with that thought, you shove her back, hard, then step into her space while she staggers. Your elbows brace against her shoulders, then you hook your hands under her chin, thumbs pressed firmly to the corners of her eyes. Part of you is surprised, when the ink rolls over your fingers, that it doesn't hurt. It doesn't stick, either, because it's not liquid at all. It's like gas, almost, or smoke from one of Iconic's cigars. It doesn't stain your hands: it just pours over them, like something curious, or like aura. And that's it.

This must be psionics, you think, but then you catch a whiff of something else, something sharper, like the smell of ice at the heart of winter. She’s stilled under your hands, losing the wild energy that’d overtaken her, and now you can read her lips. It’s still nonsense, for the most part.

But part of it’s legible enough. "The angels are calling me home," Loxias mouths at you, with a cadence just short of song, and then your hands are burning, a sharp, aching pain that cuts straight through to the depths of your awareness. It's more than just hurt. It's everything, for one heart-stopping moment, sensation so much that it blocks out everything else -

- you're jerking your hands back, hard as if they were scalded.

When you look down, they're bleeding, gold seeping through the lines of your palms and curling down your wrists like water. It aches like frostbite, or like needles in your skin, soaking all the way to the deepest parts of you, but there's a kind of shock to it. There's gold meeting the indigo, brilliant as Grand Highblood Myddus's palms, and.. you can taste the pain in your mouth, almost, the sickly sweet tang of iron, but you can't quite process it.

So you take a deep breath, then grab her face again, more firmly this time. She actually chitters at you, baring her teeth. This close, she could tear out your wrist. This close, with your palms bleeding and bile falling from her eyesockets, she could be contaminating you with the same filth that's taken up in her core. What proof would you have? What protection could anyone fucking give to this?

"Oh, sister, sister," you breathe, like your heart ain't wrenching to escape, like there ain't bile on your tongue. No: your words are like the water around you, still and soothing and more weight than any one troll ought to muster. You speak to her like she is a lamb in your flock, and she has been lost, and like your soul isn't curling away at the sight of the black coiling over your fingers. Because what else can you fucking do? "What have you done? What lies with which did they fucking lure you? These mirthless fucks have taken you astray. They have stripped away your sense. They have stolen away your dignity. But they ain't taken your mind, have they? There is a soul in here, one that is being bound in the chains of this noissome song. There is a troll buried in that deep, dank space, too weak to break free."

"But don't you worry none, little brown," you say, "for I have brought a fucking light."

Deep within you, you pull your psionics together like armour, curling them one point at a time over your mind. You link them together, tight as a shield, and you take a breath, and you think to the past. Myddus of the Golden Palms, they'd called him back before he was the Grand Highblood, and Myddus of the Golden Tongue. He'd pulled the angels from the heart of a sinner, and he had called her soul back with the song on his lips, and the Messiahs had loved him for that.

They'd killed him for that, in the end, but it'd been his place. And what troll can reject their place?

It strikes you, suddenly, that you might die here. But you don't want to die, no matter if it's your place, no matter if it's the Messiah's fucking plan, so you draw your psionics tighter. You think of the Messiahs, their eyes bright, their words full of mirth. You think of the light of their moons, the cast-off spawn of the terrors, and how they'd caught them in the sky - how Pink had stripped them of their tails, and Lime had stripped them of their feathers, and those castoffs had become the angels, who longed for their old bodies, but were destroyed by the glow within them.

You think of the ward in your pocket, painted with the gold of the angel’s servants, and the call for light scribed upon it.

"I'm going to help you, girl," you tell her, and if your voice is shaking, then who is around that would tell?

Then you lean in, placing your mouth to her nearest eye.

The stories had never mentioned the sting of this. To breathe in the gas is like swallowing the sun. It feels like it's flaying away your flesh as it pours down your throat, stripping away everything it touches and making it its own. You've never tolerated pain well, never had much cause to learn, but what other choice do you have? To let her die at the hands of her own? To toss her away, like so many have tossed you?

Life is a sacrifice, the fifth Highblood told his choir. Life is naught but a set of strings set to be snipped, and the joke of it all - the truth of it all, the noise that the Empress tries to filter is  - is you decide if you'll be the strings, or the hands holding them. You'd never thought much about that quote, before, but now it's weighing.

When the sting is too much - when you can't handle it any longer - you pull away. Her face is sallow under your hands.

"Sister," you say, or you try, but the words that come out ain't nothing that you've ever heard before. They ain't words at all. They're just filth, tearing out of your throat like cicadas from their coons, and there's iron in your mouth, coating your tongue as thick as the ink on her face.

Chiloa and the IEP - they'd raised you to be the string, and they told you there would be nothing sweeter than the snap, and they held the scissors to you, and you'd never even thought to fray, not until it was nearly too late. And has it ever helped you? Has it ever done jack shit but cost you?

Maybe it's worth it to be something else, just for one night.

You’d made a choice, when you stepped onto this ship. Right now, all you’re doing is abiding by it.

Loxias blinks. When she opens her eyes, one eye is clear, free of the filth, and flooded with only her blood.

So you lean in, you press your lips to her other eye, and you pray.

Second time around, it's not any better. If anything, you think it's almost worse, for now you've got the taste of the pain in your soul, and you know what's coming. There's no shock to keep it away from you now. It's just pain, washing over you like a wave, and all you can do is close your eyes, and kick towards the surface. Because sure, there's pain, but you know, now, what sort of sick beast is raining discord upon her soul. You can feel the coils of it, pressing in on you from every side. You can feel the way it -

- and you can feel the way it recoils, when it brushes up against your psionics and the light flares.

The world flashes orange. When you open your eyes, the sky's bright, brighter than it ever should be, even this late in the sweep and with the boat lit aflame. But nah. The boat ain't lit. There's no heat save for the reek of your own blood, streaming down your face and leaking from your hands. Loxias's eyes are clear, but the light ain't from her or hers. Her irises are blown big, large enough to take over most of the yellow, but there's scarcely any glow to them, even this close: the dusting of brown light across her cheeks could just as easily be blood.

No, the light's coming from you. When you reach out, careful, to wind it back in, all it does is flare brighter, with a pulse of energy that leaves your veins burning in the aftermath. Your eyes are shining, bright enough that they feel ready to start weeping. There's sparks drifting down around you, like the snow that ain't yet come, but it's fine. There's none of the pain of burnout, none of that sick siren call that comes with destruction. Your psionics are just there, flared, caught up in the grid of armour you'd wound them into, and you'll have to figure out how to fix that later.

And you’re just tired, right down to the bones.

But right now, you have different problems. Loxias's gone limp in front of you, but when she lifts her hands, it's with the movement of a troll, not whatever fuck had been wearing her skin. And when you turn to face the crowd behind you..

There's a few hundred eyes all on you, watching, and in the darkness, with shadows cast harsh on their faces and jaws, it's impossible to tell what they're thinking of you: all dressed up in indigo, with the morning sky in your eyes and the sun's light dripping from your palms. You ain't Iconic. You've never had to go and figure out the beat of a crowd, whether the crook of their arms was to clap, or to grab a rope. You've never fucking wanted to, but Liyiji's tongue-tied and pale next to you, and you know he won't be any help at all.

So you take a breath, you cast your eyes across them, and you pull yourself up tall.

"And what the hell," you ask, voice pitched low, and oh - your throat's gone raw, so the words fucking rasp, deep as any highblood's purr. "Are all of y'all looking at? Do you even fucking know? Has fear stripped the sense from you, that I have laid down salvation in front of you and all you can do is stare? A terror would've plagued your goddamn cities. They would have ripped the bones from your flesh. They would've supped on your quadrants, and left you to fucking watch, for how could some fucking flame - the detriment of the land, the Messiah's first joke - ever quench what comes from the origin of us all? Do you drown your fish in the waters, cousins? Do you hold them there until they stop fucking moving? Because if one does - if you have ever - that would be the most rank of goddamn miracles."

"And you have not earned a miracle." Your mouth tastes of iron. It drags down your throat when you breathe in, but what is that discomfort compared to the patter of your heart? There’s a fire in your veins, burning like it’ll eat its way free of you, and it pours out in your words, like a lash with which you could burn away their sin.  "You have earned jack and shit, motherfuckers, save for the most righteous of ire. What sort of shit is this? Trouble comes, and you sinners, you feckless fucks, all you do is fucking cower. You swing a lamp, and you promise a resolution that you cannot - will not - fucking deliver.  You don't deserve a fucking miracle.”

“If the gods were just, I would have let this motherfucker wreck all of you."

"But the gods ain't just," you tell them, heat enough to match the pulse in your veins, "so we must be, you worthless wretches. Remember that, next time you think to fucking cower. Think of that the next time you go to claiming you'll light a flame upon a motherfucker still occupied. C'mon, Li." The crowd isn't moving. They're just watching, but that's fine - you don't expect they'll move at all, not after that show. "Get your girl, and let's fucking go."

[creppyweirdo]

idk here’s my murder khajiit’s backstory or something

Somewhere in the tent, cloaked in the warm, hazy lamplight, a Khajiit cub whimpered softly as it lay upon its mother’s breast.  Nuwali weakly laved her tongue over her infant, cleaning the mess from its downy fur and purring.  

Clan Mother Dar’Jeera’s nostrils flared as she took in the scents of the birthing nest – incense smoldering in a bronze basin, the sweet, cloying smell of moon sugar, and the pungent reek of blood and birth, of darkness and ill-omen.  

“You cannot keep this child, Nuwali,” she said softly, swiveling her ears toward the sound of the kitten’s cries.  “You know what must happen.”

The midwife had given her a tonic laced with moon sugar to dull the pain of labor, but despite its lingering haze, Nuwali pulled herself up to a sitting position, tucked her kitten against her chest, and fixed a fierce gaze upon the Clan Mother.  “You will not take this one’s child from her. You will pry her from my dull, dead claws, or you will not have her at all.”

Dar’Jeera slowly closed her eyes and tucked her hands into her sleeves.  “As the Blood Shadow falls over the Sacred Moons, the spirits creep forth into this world and weave their souls into the new-born.  The dro-m’Athra sharpens its claws-“

“She is not dro-m’Athra!” Nuwali hissed.  “She is a cub.  She did not ask for the Blood of Jone, and she will not pay its price.”

Dar’Jeera could not see, but she could hear the resolution in her voice, and feel her panic creep across her own fur like an oncoming summer storm.  She sighed.  “Then you will leave us.  Recover your strength this night, and be gone from this place as the sun rises.” The Clan Mother’s voice softened as she made to exit Nuwali’s tent.  “I am sorry, my child.  But the life of one is not worth the fate of this village.”

Nuwali waited until the Clan Mother’s footsteps receded into the night before settling back amongst the pillows with exhaustion.  She tucked her cub beneath her chin and began to purr once more to soothe her.  

“M’abami,” she cooed. “My sweet M’abami.”

***

Across the village, the acolytes raised their hackles as Dar’Jeera approached.  

“You would allow the monster to live?  Would you so easily forsake us all, Clan Mother?”

Dar’Jeera turned her face to the sky and could feel the glare of the blood moon reflecting in her milky-white eyes.  “May the Bright Moons protect us…” she whispered.

 *** Several years later, Firsthold, Auridon***

Nuwali had very few pleasures in her life, and Wash Day was one of them.  Once a week, the maids of Firsthold gathered on the shore to scrub the dirt and grime from the fancy garb of the haughty Altmer. The cubs played in the shallows, and the women gossiped amongst themselves as they gently massaged the richly colored fabrics against the sides of their washtubs.  

Out of the corner of her eye, Nuwali watched M’abami as perched on a sun-warmed rock, observing as the other children poked at the mudcrabs with bits of driftwood and collected seashells.

“M’abami still does not play with the other children?” asked Sahira as she vigorously attacked a pair of breeches with a scrub-stone.  

Nuwali shook her head. “She is a quiet child, very calm. Even when she was a kitten, she rarely made a sound.”

Further down the shore, Hylda, the big-boned Nord woman who helped run the fishermen’s tavern, gave a derisive snort.  “Something is wrong with that child!  Little ones are meant to play and squeal and cause mischief, not watch them like a hungry sabre-cat watches its prey.”

Nuwali felt her fur begin to prickle, but she soothed herself and met Hylda’s judging eyes with a cold, proud look.  “This one’s daughter is a blessing from the Bright Moons.  I wouldn’t not change a single thing about her.”  Hylda rolled her eyes and returned to her laundry, but Sahira cast one more glimpse at M’abami.  The tip of her tail twitched ever so slightly as she sat upon the rock, unblinking, and Sahira thought she looked unnervingly like a Senche preparing to pounce.

***

The cat-boy continued to yowl even after Finneon pulled M’abami off of his back.  The shallow gouges her claws had left on his throat would heal fine, but they would hurt like Oblivion once the healer got ahold of them.  

Finneon tightened his grip on M’abami’s shoulder, feeling her tense as she watched the other children scatter back to towards the tenements.  Sensing that she wouldn’t speak unless spoken to, he let out a long sigh and pushed her in the direction of her home.  “And what was it this time?”

“He said my mother had dull claws.  I showed him how sharp my claws are instead.”

“Scrapping I can understand – kids scrap all the time, it’s natural.  But you’re not supposed to go right for the jugular and pin him like a wild animal.”  At her doorway, he gave a polite knock on the wood frame before shrugging under the tattered curtain that served as a door.  “No wonder the entire city’s terrified of you.”

Nuwali abandoned her sewing and lunged for her daughter.  “My sweet M’abami, this one heard fighting, were you hurt? Was it the other children?”  She ran her hands across her daughter’s face, checking for lumps, feeling for nicks in her ears, searching for a broken claw or hangnail.  She noticed Finneon standing awkwardly in the threshold, bowed awkwardly to avoid the low ceilings (Khajiiti tenements were not built to accommodate High Elves), and gave him a grateful smile.  “You have brought this one’s daughter home safely again, Walker. Jone and Jode bless you.”  Nuwali looked back toward the fire pit, where two potatoes were roasting amongst the coals and a pitifully small fish was cooking on the spit. “We do not have much, but please, join us for supper.”

“I appreciate the offer, Nuwali, as always…but there is a matter I would like to discuss with you, if you have a moment.”

Nuwali bid M’abami to wash up and change before dinner, then beckoned Finneon closer to the fire to hear his proposition.  

***

All of M’abami’s worldly possessions did not even fill a small burlap sack, and what little she had stuffed within it bounced against her leg and she strode to keep up with Finneon.

“We’ll teach you everything you need to know in order to survive on your own and make a living.  Way I see it, this is what you were meant to do anyway, what with that wild streak you’ve got.  Follow our rules, and you’ll fit right in.”

They made their way to Vulkhel Guard on foot and skirted the coast under the cover of darkness. Finneon stopped just short of a stone door, the entrance to some long-forgotten Ayleid ruin.  Under the moons, the white Outlaw’s sigil seemed to glow with an otherworldly aura.  

Finneon clapped M’abami on the back and grinned.  “First things first, we’ll set you up with a nice dagger and teach you how to stick ‘em with the pointy end.”

***

For several years now, Nuwali lit a candle each night and prayed to the gods to keep M’abami safe. Around her neck, tied to a piece of leather, was one of her baby fangs – the only thing she had to remember her child by.

As she clasped her hands before her makeshift altar and began her prayers, something in the alley behind the tenement fell loose and clattered terribly against the ground. Nuwali gave a startled gasp and spun about toward the noise, her hackles rising and her claws sliding free in preparation for an attack.  Sensing no danger, she composed herself and turned back to her altar, only to find a satin coin pouch dropped into the offering bowl.  Attached was a note:

Take this and return to Elsweyr, Mother. May Jone and Jode light your path.

               -M

As Nuwali clutched the heavy purse to her breast and began to weep, M’abami turned from the window and pulled her cowl over her face.  She brushed the pads of her fingers against the sea-worn wood of her childhood home once more, and then faded away into the shadows.

[doubledaffy]

January, 2017. Daisy and I went to Japan to visit Kevin and Shoko. I wrote a lot about it and made this little video. XO.

1-5-17 Thursday

Kyushu island

Hippo Bakery

Beach walk. Bread. Blendy Stick. Laundry mat. Itoshima - wife and husband. I forgot my back pack on the beach it so happens. Moto guys. Daisy thought Japanese surfers were big water turkeys. Ancient pine forest. Karatsu burger. I hated. Aka egg and cheese. Kagamiyama mountain. Body move move. Karatsu castle. Ripped the cube into traffic towards Akasaka station to meet Tsuyoshi. (We got the laundry while I sat in the car). AirBnB guy. Boom box grocery store. Dars. Wasabi potato sticks. Crying toddler. Google translate sucks. Shoko made hot pot meal. Nummy. Kevin whipped his chocolate pops.

Fun fact. The man who invented Tenga, has the Guinness world record for longest JO. How fitting.

Gross airbnb hair on comforter and towel. Do not want to stay there. Wasting more money. :(

1-6-17 Friday

Big dry heave last night. Woke up at 1am thinking "oh boy, something's going on. Whoops!" Ran to the bathroom, felt the heat rise up my body. Was it the broth? The chicken? The Sake? I placed my hands upon the electronically heated seat of the Japanese washlet and began to dry heave. No barf. I felt like Barfing. But nope. My body wouldn't let me. I felt better though and went back to bed. Daisy told me in the AM that they made the HotPot with pork broth, thought of me, and then decided not to tell me. Maybe it was that. Who cares. I feel better today. Kev made Spanish French toast (torijas) for us. It was lovely. Daisy said the shower she took was the best she's ever taken. That's because there's a huge window looking out in the the sea. It's magic. Daisy and went to 7-11. Big presence here. Kev fully loves it. Apparently they make great stuff and the ATM is reliable. Located right next to the "Titty mags" as Kev explained. I took out Shoko's penny board and we stopped at HIPPO tiny surf bakery and got some snacks for the house. No salty bread. We showed up too late. I left the penny board outside and no one stole it! --- Shoko drove us to a special lunch and snack spot. Snack spot was very Japanese and cute and had weird dessert stuff. Lunch spot was closed at 3pm! Great shoe horn though. I Bought the best spoon ever. White metal. Feels like stone. Expensive ceramic gift shops. Hotto motto dance and curb eat. Sake factory great traditional architecture. Drove to muji and inkcube in the mall. Went nuts at Muji. And stuff. Daisy neck hurt. Back home. Cream soup. Organize pack. Test journals and pens out. Daisy in bed by 9. I stay up and eat cream soup and some dars. White chocolate. Do some photos and stuff. Kev teaches himself Japanese on laptop then plays StarDewValley.

1-7-17 Saturday

Woke up early. Beach walk. Big shell find. Hippo. Too early for SheoPan! 9:30 is the best time. Come back. Blendy stick with Scones and Cream Soup left over. Computer time clicky and and work / taxes shit. Shower ocean view. Skate to Hippo at 9:30. got the SheoPan. Groin pull fall on the way back. Saw Osky and the Corgy photo shoot. Kev takes us to train. I dropped 40 on the train card by mistake. Taking photos on the train is illegal, Kevin explains. Photo sound on iPhone mandatory. Unpack at AirBnb. Then Bounce to Lunch at crazy under ground mall. Green noodle soup. So many people. So many things. So many structures. So much lighting. So much movement. No white people. Babies dressing nicely. Cool gear. Women in mens wool long straight overcoats. Tan and black. Big buttons and ties. Underground mall culture. Walk tour through FuK with Kev. Side of building greenery stair case hike to views. Photo shoot women and man.  Stop at Julette’s letters. Got a CLIP and stuff. Wooden baby toys nice. Japanese Love Pop and cool pencil, etc. Walk to DONUT spot. Lots of walking. Donut spot in crazy OTHER mall under ground. Madness. Hot down there. Amazing donuts. Weird that in a mall though, but maybe that’s great. Mall Mall Mall. Energy to go to MUJI. Big walk again. Lots of stores and big streets. Mega complex. Water light projector show. Muju is calming. Hot in there. Got more shit. Wanted everything and a new house to decorate. Book for Ben. Meet up with Shoko at Hippo and crazy recycling bear. Walk to restaurant called CHIKEN. Allow smoking, but place is cool and hip and nice. Light beer life. Moscow mule. Was off, from walking and hunger. Kev big adventurous eater. Raw Chicken - SASHIMI. Crazy. Got a little buzzed and let go. Crazy smokey chicken dish. Tasty food overall. Walk back in the Rain. LAWSON Dars and purple gummy candy and Crunky! Shoko peeled off before the AirBnB after party. Incense at the Airbnb made it smell better. Muji lights. 1/4 xanax or whatever to sleep. Pushed beds together with D and passed out.

1-8-17 Sunday

Woke up. Jon Bellion hate listen. Shower in tiny shower. Trying to meet with Kev at Eggs and Things. Big American style food. Just love the American food. Not so much THAT< I love knowing what I’m eating because I have a special little diet that doesn’t really include meat or fish or pork or anything, and here in Japan that’s hard. Kev showed up. After Eats and Things we popped on the train(s) to Dazaifu - a very old (16th century) Shrine (or could be a temple, hard to remember which is which) about 1hr on the localish trains. People on the trains sleep a lot. It’s nice. Also, no one is loud. Very quiet and respectful. Trains are on time and the stations are clean. One train we took was just the loveliest color scheme - light green/blue and red. V. calming. Tons of people in the terminals at times. Felt like Grand Central Terminal. If I ever felt like wanting to go to a Bigger Japanese city, nope - this amount of people is fine. Dazaifu is amazing. Tiny village full of a billion people swarming up to see the shrine, but it was oddly peaceful because no one is rude and it’s generally quiet. Tiny shops and people cooking meat sticks and shit on the sides on the way up. At the end, before the gate, there was a naturally formed single file line just to take a pic with the whacky animal statue. Formed by the people in a simple organized way. Not like the monster americans at Disney. Just a nice simple civilized line. Inside, we had to do a special hand and mouth wash routine to cleanse ourselves a the water zone. I touched my lips to the water bucket stick because it’s hard to know the customs in other countries. A million Japanese people cycling through there each day, and Jeff touches his lips to the community water bucket. We hiked up into the woods and saw an amusement park on the other side which seemed weird being so close to a shine or whatever. We got soft meatless sweet pucks and sat at a low table. Very relaxing stroll. Felt bad that Kev was in the Glum zone not knowing if his relationship is in the pits. Train back Komono woman sleeping among all the other sleeping Japanese people. Kev bounced, had to work and wanted to be home for the night. We wish we could all just stay at the house. Going back to the AirBnB and not having family dinner with the homie was bumming us out. I was excited to take the reins and figure out where to go in the new city. Apple Maps is great for walking directions on this trip. Great UI. Google Maps looks like garbage. Daisy found a place that has burgers and veggy options called Brooklyn Parlor. No shame in just going to a cool hip place that I know I can get something I like. The thing is, the Japanese food I have eaten is amazing. But when you’re without your Japanese speaking friends, it’s very hard to make sure you aren’t eating shell fish or meat. We saw some other cool small restaurants we’d thought looked nice on the walk. 7-11 stop after dinner to get snacks. The Titty Rags had censorship thingies on the genitals and they also had tape on the pages so you couldn’t open em. Old man barfing at the bus stop, but overall we’re getting a friendly vibe from the city. Plans to watch Finding Dori on the lappy, but might just crash. Trying to plan what to do tomorrow with the rental car with Kev. Hard to plan sometimes! We’re living out of a backpack now because of the AirBnB and would like to re-up / swap out our gear.

(First horn sound we’ve heard here. Wow. Just now as I was typing this entry, just goes to show you, why honk, when you can be patient and kind?)  

1-9-17 Monday

Giants

Eggs and things iced coffee?

Train to Kevin's

Rental car madness - couldn’t find Nissan. Goosechase.

Senyoji temple - Magic. Soft. Quiet. Milltion Monks on hill. Old artifacts. Incense. Chanting on Mic.

Everyone backs their car in to the parking spot.

Ichiran Noodle Factory - ticket system. Rice and Egg and cold Mushrooms. Put the plate on the sound thingy and it makes a big sound all across the restaurant signifying that you want your next little order.

Tea Garden Madness - Light up trees across this huge empty yard with pop music blasting from a ton of speakers hidden all over the grounds. I did a BodyMoveMove, naturally.

1-10-17 Tuesday

Tried to go to Hippo today. It’s hard to go there, apparently. Closed on Tuesdays. Whoops! Came back with no pastries, so Kevy Cab hooked up the Pancakes and I took care of the Blendy Sticks. Grabbed the laundry and popped out to the long driving day through windy roads in the beautiful Japanese country side. First we stopped at the big Caldera overlook where a volcano made a blast hole a very long time ago. Then we popped down more windy roads to see the Aso Volcano. It was cloudy, but you could see a massive mountain with a big hole in it smoking underneath sets of ominous clouds. The museum center looked like something out of a Russian Post Apocalypse B movie. Drove to the wrong hot springs, I was getting car sick, so moved up front. The steering wheel is on the right side here, so sitting up front is a treat cuz you feel like you’re just controlling the car with you mind. Finally made it to the real hot springs. It’s a 24hr spot and it’s magical. You pick your favorite little hot spring house for around 1500 Yen (15 bucks). Then you pop in there, shower off, put your coins in the slot thingy that makes hot water blast out of a long tube into a beautiful wooden tub. We would have splurged for the rock tub for an extra dollar. Yup, a dollar for the upgrade. Daisy and I never felt so relaxed. I bought some sheepy slippers at the gift shop and am wearing them now. I also bought a sprite type drink that was about 1/4 size of a glass coke bottle, with a label designed to win design awards. Shoko is now getting car sick, so it’s me and her up front, with her driving. She drives very fast. On the highway she was passing mother fuckers with ease. I was nervous. Grabbed our laundry from the trusty laundry mat (drying only for us). I lay down on the bench while Daisy read Japanese Nylon. I was trying to still my body. Bopped over to the UDON noodle place and got some Tofu Noodle Udon and white rice. It was simply great. Ate at the counter and took some iPhone vids of stuff. At home raging on some 7-11 snacks we got at some point today. 7-11 here is what I want a convenience store to be. It has lots of shit I like and cheap. Daisy in bed now cuz I feel I owe it to myself to document these trips. They’re super important to me and special and I’m lucky to go on them.

1-11-17 Wednesday

Woke up at 8am and popped out to the ocean magic tree zone to dance in public for my BodyMoveMove & Exquisitemovement project. Dancing really gets the heart pumping. Daisy said she wanted to go for a run on the beach but where is she now? Face down in bed, that’s where. I can’t seem to sleep past 8 and I’m loving it. Slid over to Hippo for a pastry run. Scored that ShioPan which is very rare and special, as we all know. Came back and missed the “let’s go” and rushed to get ready. Everyone was making fun of me for being a space cadet on this trip, but I kinda like being loose and spacey when I’m not at the wheel. Most of my life is dictated by me and only me so it’s been really nice that Kev and Shoko are handling everything and being great tour guides. We zap over to Shoko’s parent’s house which is a traditional Japanese magical tiny compound. Garden’s and outbuildings and paths tucked and squeezed into the tiny suburban hillside. They have another house that they open as a cafe and art gallery and everything is as you’d expect a modern day / ancient Japanese house to be. They have a fucking COY POND in the middle of it all with lots of buddies swimming back and forth. Their toilet has a button that lifts and lowers the seat - no touch lifestyle. That sums up the house and how rad it is. We jammed over to a fast food Sushi Roll place that uses a conveyer belt system to deliver your food and you pay per plate. You order on the touch screen and it makes a lot of loud chimes and screams at you, which is the only downside. All this annoyance is overruled by the convenience and novelty. I ate no fish because fish grosses me out and I feel bad for them. They say fish is good for you, but not for me because it’s disgusting and smells like low tide. Your kid isn’t dressed up like he/she is headed to fashion week? Don’t bring them outside then. That’s the rule. Tolls here are very expensive, but the roads, even though I can’t read a god damn word, seem to be great and tight and efficient and clean. Next, we bopped over to the largest bronze Buddah that is laying down. It’s magnificent and peaceful. Snagged a Bodymovemove before going inside and praying at all the little pray stations. Then we got little balls with feathers on them to toss into the tiny buckets but none of us were successful. Guess what? This place is manicured to perfection and has a very hand made feel. Lots of paths into the forest and mini shrines and stuff. Even a tiny Torii Gate you can crawl through. Whoops, sun is setting, so we blast off to another Temple Shrine they’re calling Hay something. It has a lot of stairs and you can see the ocean and whatever. Big hay knot thingy you can pray to. We got gas and stopped at Aeon for food and snacks for gifts. The Nissan March really gets good gas mileage. I can’t find my lens cap, but who cares, I already got the good Bokeh shot on the highway. We’ve been using a “Shared Wallet” System, which is neat. You all put in the same amount of $ at the beginning and when you do group activities you all take out of that. At the end if there’s any left, you split it up. It works well or whatever. Back home Shoko made hot pot - no pork so I don’t need to dry heave over the wash-let again! Beers for everyone but me and desserts and funny convo on the futon and stuff. I took a bath listening to the ocean waves pulse. So nice. That pulsing really does wash away everything bad.

(so that’s it for what I have written. I know we stayed in Japan longer, maybe I wrote the rest of my thoughts in an actual journal? Hard to care to search for it right now. Maybe the video above will do the trick closing that gap. I’m updating this blog right now and it’s 5/11/19 10:07AM)

[thearticulatesk]

Last night I had the pleasure of seeing Timber Dreams, the cabaret review masterminded by Joel Bow, of Joel Bow Productions, as a part of the Anywhere Mackay Festival.

The concept was simple and seamless; stage a performance of some kind in a random location- anywhere but within a theatre- and bring on the entertainment. Of course even when Joel Bow does something simple he sets the bar at extraordinary, so he enlisted not only two very talented local songbirds, Kyra Geoghegan and Molly Rossetto to take up the challenge, but he got them and pianist Sarah Rosekrans to accompany the one, the only Kurt Phelan, whom a lot of lucky or theatre-savvy folks will recognize as Johnny Castle from the Australian production of Dirty Dancing. Together, this very talented quartet performed a variety of numbers from a few different genres over two sets in the highly original setting of Porters Timber Stockyard. I will set the scene for you now- stacks of treated timber shelved all the way to the monstrously high ceiling, soft candlelight and colored mood lighting, heavenly incense wafting through the door to mix with that lovely timber smell (my husband works in a timber yard so that scent is borderline erotic to me now, lol) an intimate but eager audience scattered around the front of a very simple, vintage-inspired stage and two very gracious hosts greeting you at the door and making sure you’re not wanting for a refreshment or five. Everything Joel does is elegant, but Timber Dreams managed to be mysterious and cozy with a hint of rustic, and I guess that is one of the many upsides to the Anywhere Festival– it takes people out of one comfort zone but then introduces them to a new and very unexpected one. With the right eye, anywhere can be romantic, and Joel Bow has that eye, all right.

The performers were beautifully dressed in gorgeous evening wear too, and they absolutely sparkled under the lights- not just on the outside but from within. Molly Rossetto is still pretty fresh out of the Conservatorium Of Music, but she has the stage presence of someone who has been doing what she has done for decades. I’m currently in the production of MMCP’s Wicked with her and have seen her perform in quite a few things over the last year, and I’ve noticed that she tends to take on a lot of very dark or intense roles, which suits her perfectly because she has an incredibly strong voice and a very high range, which is hard to find. However, I saw a lighter side of Molly last night as well and I was delighted by that. She had quite a few songs and they were incredibly catchy and cheeky, so much so that I ended up Googling them earlier this evening because I was immediately a fan, and I don’t think I was the only one absolutely enamored by the tune: ‘A Contemporary Musical Theatre Song,’ which resonates like a cheeky in-joke for Thespians and theatre goers. Molly’s voice is a big one, not unlike Adele’s, and I really enjoy how effortless she makes singing a string of big-belt numbers look. Though younger and fresher onto the the scene than Kurt Phelan and Kyra Geoghegan, Molly definitely held her own last night and then some, and I think it’s safe to say that we can expect to see a lot more of her around the region in the future.

Kyra Geoghegan is a very seasoned local performer, and one that I have had the pleasure of seeing with and woking with many times before, but I was absolutely dazzled by her rendition of ‘How Bout A Dance?’ from the musical, Bonnie & Clyde last night. It was pitch perfect and luxurious, and proved why she so often gets cast as the lead in local productions: the girl just has that quality that puts asses in seats. She has an incredible Mezzo-Soprano sound and a belt that never fails to hit the back of every room, but more than that, she has this natural gift for connecting with the songs that she’s singing and then forcing that connection on the audience too. Seriously, I don’t get how she manages to make even eyebrow movements hypnotic but she does- when Kyra’s singing, one cannot take their eyes off her face and with the right song, she’ll move you to tears. I’ve always said that Miss Geoghegan is wasted on Mackay because I know she could move people anywhere, but truth be told, I’m very grateful for the fact that she’s chosen to not only stick around Mackay to dazzle audiences, but to endeavor to pass on her many gifts to her students at Aspire Performing Arts.

And then there was Kurt Phelan, and I don’t think even I have enough words to sum up exactly what seeing a Kurt Phelan performance is like, but I’ve seen him perform three times now, and I know that I will continue to drop whatever it is I’m doing in the future to see him again. Kurt is a top shelf singer and there’s absolutely no denying that, but he is is a performer in every sense of the word and so there is never a dull moment or a lull when he’s around. If you haven’t seen one of his shows yet, you’re missing a real treat, because he knows how to make you laugh, cry, snort-giggle and drink more, and you don’t see a single drop of effort behind anything he does. The man’s just a natural charmer with exceptional comic timing, and he knows how to string songs together with a few well-worded anecdotes that are delivered in a manner that will move you from tears to laughter without a beat being missed. I enjoyed every single song he sang last night whole-heartedly, but ‘Burn for You’ was the highlight for me, and I’m a big fan of the way he interacts not only with everyone from the production team, to the audience, but the way he draws attention to his fellow performers as well, bringing credit where it’s due. Really, if you haven’t been fortunate enough to catch one of his shows yet, do yourself a favour and follow him on Facebook or Twitter so you known when he graces a Mackay stage next, and ladies, take your husband along as I did but Kurt’s sense of humour is accessible to all kinds- and it wouldn’t hurt for some of his personal style to rub off on ‘em either because the boy from Ayr can wear a suit like no one’s business!

And in the vein of bringing credit where it’s due, I must say that I’ve never seen a musician captivate a room quite the way Sarah Rosekrans does. She chooses to be off stage and often to the right of it but Sarah has as much presence in every performance she does as anyone with a microphone in the spotlight. The way her fingers fly over piano keys is stunning in itself, but like Kyra, she has a way of connecting with the music while inviting others to connect with her. She never misses a note, she always looks stunning and when she’s inviting to jump in and start singing too the audience is always wowed. Her and Kurt have a fantastic chemistry that I noticed during his performance Phelan Groovy in 2014, and I believe, a very similar sense of humour so they’re a delightful combination every single time. As satisfying as the entire show was last night, I have to admit that my favourite moment was hearing the thunderous applause that was all for Sarah because she earned every beat of that.

Timber Dreams was definitely a singular experience, and I can honestly say that there wasn’t a face in the crowd that didn’t look like they were having the time of their life (pun intended like a mother) last night. Like everything that Joel Bow has done so far, and will certainly continue to do, it was an evening of perfect harmony, class and laughter delivered in a way that was seemingly effortless even though I know just how hard the cast, Joel and his crew; Greg Sugden, Tim Philips and Leah Edwards work to deliver such beautiful illusions. Five stars from start to finish guys, thanks for doing everything you do, and so well.

A Dreamy Evening : A Review Of Timber Dreams, Joel Bow Productions. Last night I had the pleasure of seeing Timber Dreams, the cabaret review masterminded by Joel Bow, of Joel Bow Productions, as a part of the…