#maybe as a gesture of good will after causing so much trouble chaos and drama

[the-jam-to-the-unicorn]

Zelenskyy awarded Zaluzhny and Budanov the title Hero of Ukraine

[itsany62]

SteveTony - Alternate Universe

Here are some Alternate Universe fics that I love. Don't forget to leave kudos and nice comments in every fic!

Food for the Heart, by LagLemon, 14 k >, Cooking, No Powers.

After being introduced to a gourmet food on a budget blog by Pepper (a gift for her elderly, cheapskate mother) Tony starts cooking again. The recipes are good, but the blog owner is even better. Still, Tony isn't so sure Captain America, the guy who runs the blog, can compete with Hot Bagboy, the gorgeous blond who works at the grocery store.

"Free to Good Home" by Captain_Panda, 7 k > words, Alternate Universe - Animals.

"Oliver and Company" AU.

There's a great big world outside the box.

But it's a dog-eat-dog world, and Tony's just one cat. Then a stray dog comes along, looking for a friend.

A Day In Principal Stark's Office, by nannersmelo, 10 k > words, Steve Single Parent, Director Tony.

Tony Stark has his hands full with not only Stark Industries, but also his beloved mother's life project: The Maria Stark Academy, and as he enters his office in order to deal with a ferocious mother whose son was apparently assaulted by one of his brightest students, he was sure this day would culminate in nothing but a heinous headache. Little did he know - he was in for one hell of a surprise.

I Am the Night by gottalovev, 6 k > words, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Vampire Tony Stark, Wizard Steve Rogers.

That's it. Tony is doomed. He rolls on his back, crosses his wings over his belly and closes his eyes. He'll await death here, misunderstood by the world to the bitter end.

C is for Calculus and Compromise, by heydoeydoey, 11 k>, Gifted AU, Post-Divorce, Angts with a Happy Ending.

Steve's just trying to give his prodigy daughter a normal childhood. Enter a meddling school administrator, Tony Stark, and too many lawyers.

tell you my love for you by jelliebean, 22 k > words, Alternate Universe - Normal High School, Based on Love Simon.

A guy at Shield High comes out on tumblr, anonymously. Tony thought he was the only gay guy on campus--not out, because of Howard--and sends him an email.

“Hey, Flying. Same here. I’ve got a secret too, and it’s like I’m hiding who I am, every day. From everyone. All the closest people to me. But I just can’t tell them. I’m gay, too. It feels like I’m putting on this mask, this shell of who I think they want me to be. Even though I don’t think my friends would judge me. I don’t know why. I just. I’ve got a secret. –Shell”

The guy seems great--amazing, even, and then Hammer has to step in and ruin it all.

Mergers & Acquisitions by Robin_tCJ, 33 k > words, Angst, sex as currency.

Steve Rogers is the CEO of the Rogers Corporation, which he built from the ground up. When he learns that Hydra International is making a bid for a hostile takeover of Stark Industries, he decides he has to do what he can to stop Hydra from overtaking the market and becoming an unstoppable, unethical conglomerate. Tony Stark asks for something Steve isn’t sure he should give, but he does it anyway – and it completely changes everything. But when Hydra keeps coming, Steve and Tony realize there’s more to this than they’d realized.

Meeting the Monsters by itsallAvengers, 23 k > words, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Creatures & Monsters.

Tony's at public school with kids his age for the first time in seventeen years, and he is determined that this year is gonna be his year. He's going to make friends. He's going to be popular. People will like him.

Unsurprisngly, none of that actually happens.

He does sort-of-maybe fall in love with a vampire in his class that everyone is terrified of, though. So... there's that.

(I Want You To See) The Darkest Side Of Me by ann2who, 45 k > words, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe - Fusion, Post-World War II.

In Monte Carlo, Steve meets the wealthy widower Anthony Stark. It’s love at first sight—at least for Steve—and he can’t believe his luck when Tony asks him to live at Stark Mansion, his large estate in Malibu. Never in his life had Steve thought something like this was possible… never had he been this happy. However, soon Steve realizes that Tony is still deeply troubled by the death of his first wife and haunted by the many ghosts she left behind. The longer Steve lives in her shadow, the more he understands that… He can never be what Tony’s wife had once been for him. And Tony might never truly love him.

Gift With Purchase Remix by sabrecmc, 43 k > words, Alternate Universe - No Powers, hooker Steve, Sugar Daddy.

Gift With Purchase Remix wherein Steve actually is a hooker. But for a Really Sympathetic Reason.

The Little Glass Screwdriver by ann2who, 19 k > words, Cinderella AU.

When Prince Steven is forced to find himself a bride, true love gets in the way. As the night of the grand ball unfolds, the prince meets a mysterious knight who might just change his entire life in a way he could have never imagined.

**Cinderella AU**

Covered in Lines by royal_chandler, 3 k > words, Alternate Universe - Student/Teacher, Alternate Universe - College/University, Age Difference.

He can’t lose sight of pale, deft hands that gesture on transitive verbs, an ink-stained thumb edging underneath Tony’s ribcage with an affection that can only be called dangerous.

half-wild and glimmering by deathsweetqueen , 15 k > words, Alternate Universe - Western, Prostitution.

“Give me a drink, Tasha,” Tony sighs as he lands in front of the bar. “I’ve had one hell of a day.”

Natasha raises an eyebrow. “Have you really?” she asks, loftily, sliding a tumbler of whiskey along the well-polished wood.

Tony lets his head hang, the sweat beading on the back of his neck. “You wouldn’t believe what I’ve had to put myself through today,” he sighs, wearily.

“I would not know. You will not let me work the rooms,” Natasha retorts, her voice a little strained, busying her hands in a dirty glass.

“I don’t let you work the rooms ‘cause you’re liable to kill anyone who touches ya the wrong way and we can’t lose that much of our business,” Tony reminds her, wryly amused, sipping at his whiskey. He shakes his head at the burn. “We peddle flesh, darling, not death.”

peers, fears and holiday cheers by jacobby, 24 k > words, Parent Tony Stark.

“He’s only two years older than you,” Tony finally says when the silence becomes too much to bear.

“Dad, Teddy is turning twenty-seven next year.”

“I am not dating your husband—”

“I’m not implying you are. I just want you to be...aware that he’s practically the same age as my husband.”

AKA

Tony Stark's new boyfriend is only two years older than his adult sons. Telling them is one thing, introducing them is another. What Tony doesn't expect is that the past always has a way of catching up to him, of biting him in the ass when he least expects it. Well, at least they're all together for the Holidays. What more can he ask for?

A Higher Form of War by sabrecmc, 292 k > words, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Historical Romance.

Tony is a King with a surprising number of people out to kill him. Steve and the rest of the Avengers are fighting for Pierce's rebellion and end up with Tony as their prisoner. Oops.

you can call me babe for the weekend by complicationstoo, 10 k > words, Alternate Universe - No Powers, actor Tony Stark.

Tony left his small town for Los Angeles after high school, leaving behind everything to pursue his dream. Ten years later, he comes back for the first time and finds that some things are impossible to let go of.

Lord, What Fools These Mortals Be by iam93percentstardust, 72 k > words, Alternate Universe - Theatre.

Famed director Phil Coulson brings Shakespeare’s beloved play, A Midsummer Night’s Dream, to Broadway. This production though comes with a twist: a brief but passionate love affair between the faerie king, Oberon, and his attendant, Puck. In the roles of the two star-crossed lovers, Coulson casts America’s darling Steve Rogers, fresh off his third Academy Award, and Broadway royalty, Tony Stark. Steve quickly finds himself falling for the quick-witted and sarcastic actor but Tony is dating the stage manager. Unwilling to come between the seemingly happy couple, Steve steps back but all isn’t right behind the scenes and Tony may need him when everything falls apart.

and so we rebuild by raeldaza, 26 k > words, Alternate Universe - Star Trek Fusion, Soulmates, Mutual Pining.

Sometimes, a voice whispers: you will never atone for your mistakes.

Tony believes that, believes it so strongly some days he drowns in it, but he still tries. Tries through Starfleet, tries through inventions, tries through missions. Then, one day, he meets his new Captain, and things change.

and teach this heart (how to beat with light), by starklystar, 40 k >, AU Hospital, Single parent Steve.

Eight years ago, at a funeral with a baby's cries ringing in his ears, Tony Stark decided to turn his life around. He's a genius, billionaire, philanthropist. What's so hard to adding 'doctor' to that list? And after that, it can't be that hard to add 'husband' and 'father' too, right? But the past has a way of haunting even the very best of us, and in any universe, Tony Stark and Steve Rogers have never had an easy love.

Featuring: drama, chaos, Peter's scheming, meddling friends, and doctors learning again that the heart can never be as simple as four chambers and four valves.

Catching Lightning in a Bottle by sabrecmc, 120 k > words, Alternate Universe - Sweet Home Alabama Fusion.

College student Tony meets janitor Steve at MIT and they fall blissfully in love, until Howard happens and things fall apart. One divorce paperwork snafu courtesy of the ever-helpful Jarvis, and ten years later, Tony has to get re-divorced from Steve.

This does not go as he imagines.

Or, the Sweet Home Alabama AU that no one--well, okay, a few of you--asked for.

The Night Shift by weethreequarter , 16 k > words, Alternate Universe - Hospital.

Welcome to the Emergency Department of San Antonio General where Dr. Tony Stark joins the team fresh from his most recent tour in Afghanistan and - much to the consternation of the other staff - strikes up an instant rapport with Nurse Steve Rogers. Meanwhile, new resident Bruce Banner refuses to give up on his patient, and Dr. Sharon Carter learns something from her own patients. Throw in a pissed off hospital administrator, Clint using the coffee pot as a mug again, and a major car crash and you have, well, just another night shift.

Cake It Till You Make It by ChocolateCapCookie, 10 k > words, Kid Fic, Alternate Universe - Bakery.

Steve Rogers and Tony Stark have a lot in common. They're single parents, they own rival bakeries at the center of town... and they both hate each other's guts.

When a mix-up at Peter and Morgan's school has both fathers scrambling to prove they're the better baker, they do the mature, adult thing and compete in a bake-off. Between the mixing and the creaming, the baking and the icing, Steve and Tony find that hate is actually not that far from love.

Looking for Heaven by foxxcub, 31 k > words, Alternate Universe - Regency, Marriage of Convenience.

When young Lord Anthony Stark learns Steven Rogers has enlisted in the army, he thinks he's seen the last of his tiny, headstrong, haughty stable boy. But four years later, Lord Stark gets an unexpected visit from Steve, whose mother has fallen gravely ill and into financial ruin. Even more unexpected, Steve agrees to a shocking proposal: they will marry, giving Steve the necessary funds to save his mother, and Tony the much-needed reprieve from harassing would-be suitors. It is a business arrangement, nothing more. But as time goes on and circumstances arise, Tony begins to learn that keeping his heart away from his husband is easier said than done.

just a guy, standing in front of another guy by theappleppielifestyle, 12 k > words.

“It’s not real,” Tony says, still smiling, jaw twitching with effort. “The fame. It’s - I’m just a guy."

(Or, Notting Hill AU, with a twist.)

Mother of Exiles (A Titanic AU) by BladeoftheNebula, 21 k > words, Alternate Universe - Titanic Fusion.

“You’ll never guess what just happened!” Steve said, taking a deep breath to try and calm his breathing. “I met someone. A guy from first class.”

Dublin 1912: Steve Rogers is barely making ends meet, living in the tenement slums of Dublin. But a stroke of good luck gives him and his best friend the chance to change their fortune. Two tickets to America on board the RMS Titanic.

The Devil You Know by shetlandowl, 17 k > words, Alternate Universe - Detectives, Alternate Universe - Author/Novelist.

Best selling author Tony Stark revives the bodice ripper genre for a modern audience. From frisky gay cowboys to ravenous lesbian pirate queens, he consistently delivers riveting thrillers full of romance, drama, and the filthy, unapologetically kinky sex that has become his trademark specialty.

Tony has everything a man could dream of - horny, adoring fans, and boatloads of money. Or that's what he thought, until Detective Steve Rogers walks into his life and turns it all upside down.

Bears and Mountains and Lumberjacks Oh My! by justanotherrollingstony (adoctoraday), 24 k > words, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Lumberjack Steve Rogers.

It was supposed to be easy--go meet the reclusive artist and buy some art. And then came the broken down car. And the snowstorm. And the lumberjack with a face like a greek god. So yea, Tony is stuck in a cabin in the woods with a hot lumberjack till the storm clears. Could be worse.

Series: A Furious Vexation by Annie D (scaramouche), 18 k > words, Alternate Universe - Post-Apocalypse.

A Steve/Tony post-apocalypse AU that exists pretty much just for the smut.

That Feline Beat by Tito11, 5 k > words, Alternate Universe - Animals.

Presenting Steve and Tony in the Aristocats!AU

Tony and his three kittens have been kidnapped from their fancy Upper East Side apartment while their owners are away and deposited on the mean streets of Harlem. Unsure of where they are or how to get back home, they'll have to rely on street cat Steve to guide them. Will they get home safely? Will Tony's fear of abandonment cause him to drive away the best tomcat he's ever known? Only time will tell.

do you fondue? by calciseptine, 16 k > words, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting.

Tony has done crazy things in the name of food, but falling in love with Steve Rogers really takes the cake.

a glimpse of heaven's love by parkrstark, 13 k> words, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Terminal Illnesses.

The child begins to empty his pockets. He starts to count coins on the counter. Tony huffs a little impatiently as he realizes most of them are pennies.

The cashier actually humors the kid and counts along with him. They reach 3 dollars and 54 cents before he shakes his head sadly. "Sorry, kid. There's not enough here."

The kid sounds close to crying. "I need these paints for my Papa. It's Christmas Eve and these...he doesn't have any. The doctors said he doesn't have long. I want him to have these. In case he meets Jesus tonight, I want him to paint one more time. Please."

Tony takes a step forward, arms still full of toys he's buying just because. He can cover this child's gift for his dying father. Money. Money is what he's good for.

"I'll buy them."

--

Or, the Christmas Shoes AU no one but me asked for.

If you survive first impressions, you're good to go by itsallAvengers, 3 k > words, Parent Tony Stark, Alternate Universe - No Powers.

The first time Peter Parker-Stark sees Steve Rogers, he may or may not be standing in direct path of the man's motorcycle.

His daddy is really not going to be happy about that one.

A Rat-ional Conclusion by BladeoftheNebula, 6 k > words, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe - Veterinarians, Parent Tony Stark.

He had a strong flurry of patients throughout the morning and by the time it rolled around to noon, he was just about worn out.

He walked out into the reception, stretching until he felt a satisfying pop. “Are we done?”

Bucky checked the screen. “Just about. One more before lunch - a rat, singular.”

Steve breathed a sigh of relief. Hopefully straight forward then. “Great, let me know when they-”

He was interrupted by the bell over the door and looked up to see a little girl cradling a small animal carrier, being shepherded through the door by easily one of the hottest men he’d ever seen in real life.

Oh wow.

Tidal Pull by sabrecmc, 97 k > words, Octopus Tony Stark, Alternate Universe - Shipwrecked.

After the American Civil War, Union soldier Steve Rogers takes a chance on an opportunity to sail with the Stark Trading Company down in the Caribbean. During a terrible storm, his ship is lost. To his surprise, he survives, and ends up stranded on an island that isn't quite as deserted as he first thinks.

Or, a reverse Little Mermaid tale where Steve has to fall for the fish-man.

Twelve Days by elysianprince, 22 k > words, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe - Ghosts.

In which Tony finds himself in a town that looks like it crawled out of a Hallmark Christmas movie, trying to sell an inn he didn't know he owned, all while dealing with Steve Rogers, the resident ghost who has returned to haunt the inn each December during the twelve days of Christmas for the past seventy years. Tony has only one logical solution that benefits them both: break the curse that binds him - but falling for a man almost a century old wasn't among his plans.

She kissed me by S_Horne, 1 k > words, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Howard Stark's A+ Parenting.

“Your mom kissed me.”

Steve blinked awake and lifted his head from his pillow to look over at the silhouette in the doorway. “What?”

“Your mom,” Tony reiterated. “She kissed me.”

“Yeah,” Steve said simply, “she does that.”

[haloshornsinkstains]

Spirit Week - Monday: Wedding Day

In which everyone is dressed up for a wedding and chaos ensues.

Sorry this took a while, my laptop keyboard has been throwing hissy fits and seems to believe I’m holding down / constantly. Seems to be behaving today so here’s Chapter 2. As always it can be found on AO3 also here (I tend to update AO3 first)

Sunday night found Kore, Mammon. Levi and Beel all curled up on Kore’s bed watching the latest episode of a show Levi had recommended to them. They didn’t quite fit, Kore was sandwiched between Mammon and Beel - though with Mammon’s insistent tugging at her she was almost on top of him - while Levi pressed up against her legs. It had taken some convincing to get him out his room and here in the first place, and now she felt bad he seemed almost separated from them. “You can come up here if you want Levi?” She shifted slightly, making a vague gesture towards her torso that made Mammon frown, even if Levi didn’t bother to turn his head away from his D.D.D to look. “Why would I want to get closer to a normie like you?” Kore laughed, reaching forwards to gently ruffle his hair, momentarily exposing the reddened tips of his ears. “It’s a good thing you’re cute, you grump.” She didn’t need to see his face to know he’d be bright red by now, fingers flying across the screen as he muttered something about ‘normies’ and ‘waifu’ under his breath. She relaxed back against Mammon, still smiling softly. “So… you guys all prepared for Spirit Week? What’s the plan?” Mammon groaned. “It’s a pain in the ass, I’m not doing it.” Beel swallowed and shook his head. “You know Lucifer won’t let you get away with that.” “... crap.” Kore laughed, shaking her head. “Besides that, you can’t let Asmo out-do you with his dress!” She glanced over to him, watching his cheeks flush just a little. “I think you’d look dashing in a tuxedo.” She hadn’t said it just to get a rise out of him, but he looked so pretty with his face flushed like that it was hard to resist. Still, she thought, he really would look dashing in a tux. “Yeah, well… maybe I’ll do it. Only ‘cause Lucifer would be mad at me, nothing to do with what you just said. Of course I’d look great in a tuxedo, I look great in everything. I’m the Great Mammon.” He paused. “What’re you looking at me like that for?” Kore shook her head, “No reason. What about you Beel?” He shrugged, chewing a mouthful of popcorn for a second before swallowing. “Guess I’m wearing the same as everyone else.” “Awh, not joining me and Asmo in our dresses?” She pouted a little, eyes sparkling with mischief. “He’s really going for a dress?” Levi looked up from his phone with a frown. “Of course he is, that idiot will do anything for attention.” Mammon grumbled from somewhere behind Kore’s head, shifting slightly. “You’re wearing one too Kore?” “Asmo insisted.” She frowned a little. “I hope it’s not too ridiculous.” The boys fell suspiciously silent and she sighed, shaking her head. “I’m clearly the smart one doing lessons online, I don’t have to do any of this.” “I think you should anyway Levi, school spirit and all that. You can join the spirit of suffering with the rest of us.” Kore bumped him lightly with her knee. “At least we’ll look good doing it?”

Kore was roused from her sleep by the sound of hammering on her door. Groaning she rolled over to check her D.D.D. Well, she hadn’t overslept despite what turned out to be quite a late night, in fact it was still 30 minutes until her alarm… what in all hells was happening? Couldn’t be an emergency, no one else sounded like they were awake. Maybe Lucifer? What had she done to get in trouble this time? Grumbling she hauled herself out of bed, tugging down the oversized tee shirt she’d stolen from Beel, and opened the door. “Lord Diavolo you look awful!” “Why thank you Asmodeus, how nice to see you too.” She stopped just short of shutting the door in his face, settling for a tired glare instead. “Why are you here?” Asmo grinned brightly, holding up a large black bag. “It’s Monday! We have a Wedding to prepare for!” “It’s barely Monday, why so early?” Kore grumbled in response, stepping back to let him into her room. “I have to get your makeup and hair done too!” “I can do my own makeup, it’s not that hard. I was happy to just steal a suit from someone you know?” “I cannot be the only one in this house in a dress, besides, it would be a crime to let a pretty girl like you go without a wedding dress today!” “Flattery won’t get you anywhere Asmo.” She flopped down on the bed, staring at the black bag. “Go ahead, do your worst.” Grinning from ear to ear Asmodeus descended on her, makeup brushes in hand.

It felt like it took forever.

Kore was pretty certain it didn’t take her this long to sort her makeup in the morning. Granted, her makeup was more basic than this, because sleep was very important, but still. She stared at herself in the mirror, at least it was more her style than the stuff she saw in wedding pictures in the human realm. He’d done a good job with her hair too, an elegant updo in contrast to her usual simple style. “That’s… pretty good actually, thank you Asmo.” She smiled softly, turning her face this way and that. “Wait until you see the dress!” She turned to see him holding an elegant black dress, a beautiful gold pattern that looked almost like flames framing the bottom edge. Eyes wide she took it from him, studying the intricate details carefully, from the low back to the sheer sleeves. “That’s… wow.” She looked back up at him. “Is it really okay for me to wear this?” “Of course! You should see mine!” He held up an even more extravagant black dress, though this time the details were pink and included the symbol for lust… in sequins. Kore giggled. “Very you.” ‘So, wedding dresses in Devildom look like they’re generally black. Good to know. Much more my style than white wedding dresses I guess, though it would have been nice to wear one just once in my life…’ “Hey” a pair of fingers snapped in front of her face “are you going to put that on or not?” “Oh yeah, sorry.” Her face flamed slightly. “Are you going to just stand there?” “You expect me to leave and miss out on this show? Besides, you’ll need help doing it up.” Kore narrowed her eyes. “At least turn around.” With a huff and a series of muttered complaints Asmodeus turned his back to her, leaving her to change in peace. The dress was surprisingly easy to put on, though he had been right about her needing a hand, she couldn’t quite get the zip at the back all the way up. “Erm, zip help?” With a grin Asmo spun around, though his idea of zipping her up involved way more caressing her back than strictly necessary. “I said zip, not feel me up.” “Couldn’t resist.” Just as she opened her mouth to say something the door flew open. “Yo, Kore what’s the…” Mammon froze half way though his sentence, staring at her. Oh no, he looks good. Kore’s eyes trailed over the half open shirt and tie that he hadn’t even attempted to do up before glancing back up to his wide eyes and half open mouth. ‘Oh hells. Wait, why has he gone quiet? This can’t be good’. “Oh… does it really look that bad? I’ll just…” She whirled to head to the bathroom and change, but a firm hand around her wrist stopped her. Expected Asmo she turned ready to snap at him, but instead her eyes met tanned skin and blue eyes that were a bit too close. “You look good… uh, for a human.” Suddenly he released her wrist as if he’d been burned, blushing furiously at her wide eyes and broad grin. “Thank you!” She reached up to touch her hair. “I do kinda like this tiara, I might have to keep it.” “Yeah, well, don’t get any ideas. C’mon, we’ll be late if you don’t hurry up.” She glanced at her D.D.D and winced, ‘hells Asmo, this took forever’. “Please let me get coffee first.”

The day had mostly been uneventful, outside of the initial surprise from all of the Demons gathered in the breakfast room at her appearance and Kore’s flush and excited gushing about how good they all looked (much to Mammon’s poorly hidden irritation). Once they’d reached the school and were surrounded by other students all wearing fancy wedding attire she felt much less awkward and actually started to enjoy it, complimenting several students on how nice they looked, to mixed reactions. Even Solomon and Simeon had got in on the act, though Simeon didn’t look quite so different in his priest outfit as most of the rest of the student body. She managed to sit next to one of the brothers in almost all her classes, usually Mammon, though occasionally Beel or, since he seemed to be feeling generous today and offered to help her in one class - Satan. It was only her very last class of the day where she sat alone, and the only one that seemed to drag. Solomon had sat in front of her, and occasionally turned to give her a pointer when she grumbled particularly loudly about being stuck, but it just wasn’t the same. And for some reason she was sure she could feel eyes burning into her the whole lesson. Finally the bell rang and she was free, though part of her didn’t really want to have to take this stunning dress off, she stood and stretched, letting a soft groan slip past her lips as she felt her back cracking. “Need me to walk you back home?” She looked over at Solomon and smiled. “Thanks for the offer, but Mammon and Beel said they’d be waiting for me in the courtyard. I should be okay getting there.” She glanced towards the door and smiled. “Besides, I think Asmo is after your attention.” Solomon turned and laughed. “The girls in the school really didn’t stand a chance did they?” “Not at all, Drama Queen.” Kore grinned. “I’ll see you tomorrow!” With a wave Solomon headed out, leaving Kore to collect the last of her things and head towards the courtyard. She was almost there when she heard voices behind her. Cruel, angry sounding voices. “Hey you, human!” Kore stopped, turning to look at the owner of the vicious sounding voice. A demon was stood there, one hand on her hip as she fixed her with a vicious glare. A few of what Kore guessed must be her friends were gathered around her in a way that reminded her for a fleeting moment of a pack of hungry hyenas. “What do you think you’re doing?” Kore blinked. “Um, going to the courtyard to meet my friends?” That just seemed to make the demon more angry. “I meant with Mammon. Putting your filthy human hands all over him, he’s going to me mine you know. I don’t want you getting your filth all over him. You’re disgusting.” Kore frowned, fighting down the painful sting that made its presence known in her chest. “He’s just protecting me, it’s his job.” “Yeah right! I’ve seen you, pawing all over him as if you think someone like him could ever be interested in you! You’re trying to soil him with your disgusting human body.” Whoever this woman was she was furious now, barely contained rage boiling under the surface as she lunged at Kore. “You can’t have him!” ‘ Run or die. Run or die. ’ The words echoed in Kore’s head as she spun on her heel and tried to dash away, faster than even she would ever have been able to give herself credit for. The demon’s claws caught in her dress as she tried to flee, ripping the gorgeous material and sending Kore sprawling on the floor as the force of it tugged her feet from under her. ‘ Well, I guess if I’m going to die this is a pretty nice outfit to die in. I really wanted to see the beach though. ’ “What in hell are you doin’ Sitri?!” Kore blinked, ‘ well, not dead ’. She looked up to find Mammon stood in front of her, almost like he was guarding her. The demon who had looked so ready to kill her was now pouting and fluttering her eyelashes in his direction. “Oh c’mon Mammon, come hang out with us. We’ll have a much better time than you would with that human.” She reached out to touch his chest but in a flash he’d wrapped a hand around her wrist stopping her. “You can’t go tryin’ to kill the human. And I’m not coming with you.” “I wouldn’t kill her, I was only going to hurt her a little.” Kore flinched, trying to shift back across the grass, but her body felt like it was made of ice. “You’re not gonna hurt her either. If you try again you’ve got me to answer to. And Lucifer.” The demon, Sitri, blanched at the mention of Lucifer’s name. She threw one more furious look back at Kore before gathering her pack at heading away. Kore couldn’t look away from them, though Mammon blocked a lot of her view. She was so fixed on watching them leave that she let out a yelp of surprise when a pair of strong arms wrapped around her and lifted her to her feet. “It’s me, Kore.” Beels voice was soft in her ear and she relaxed a little, letting him support her as the tension started to leave her limbs. Mammon turned to frown at her, giving her a look she couldn’t stand to look back at. Not after what that woman had said. It almost looked like he really cared. Her downcast eyes caught sight of the rip in her dress and she choked back a sob. “Oh… my dress.” Strong hands caught her shoulders. “What’re you on about? You could’ve died and you’re worried about a dress? Stupid human.” There was real worry in his voice and it stung. “You’re just lucky Lucifer told me ta protect you or you’d be dead.” She looked up, blinking back a few tears. “Thank you.” “Yeah well, it’s my job. It’s not like I like ya or anything.” He was blushing, but he paused at the hurt that flashed across her face. Usually she played his comments off with a laugh or an affectionate smile, but this time what they’d said must have really hit her. Trying to hide both his blush and her tears he pulled her tight into his chest, wrapping his arms around her. “They’re just jealous hags ‘cause you looked better than them is all. You should ignore ‘em.” She sniffled, pushing her face harder into his chest as he gingerly pet the top of her head. Not sure what else to do Beel joined them, enveloping her back in his warmth.

Across the courtyard Asmo sighed, leaning his head against Solomon’s shoulder with a pout. “And that’s why they hate her, it’s almost enough to make a man jealous.” Solomon chuckled, bumping his shoulder slightly. “Well at least I’m glad she’s okay.” “Hmm. Those bitches ripped my dress.” Asmo, clearly not paying attention, scanned the courtyard for the retreating demons. “I think I should go have a chat with them.”

[nureyevv]

The Thief and The Secretary (...and the detective)

Juno Steel didn’t need to say he loved Rita. Sure, she got on his nerves from time to time but... she was also the most reliable person in his life. That had to mean something.

And Peter Nureyev? Well they’d finally patched things up, and yea, the situation still wasn’t perfect, but they were healing. Even just as a friend, it was intoxicating to have that eccentric, one of a kind man back in his life.

Those were two unwavering truths in a galaxy of uncertainty, but the reality of the first two statements did nothing to make the third fact any less prevalent.

Peter and Rita together? Seems good on paper, but in reality they produce a level of chaos previously unknown to man kind. In short, it was a lot.

So despite what Buddy and Vespa and Jet and... well all of them who said he was being to sensitive! He knew it was more than that.

Yea, maybe he was a bit put out when Rita turned to Peter instead of him to ramble about her shows. Yea, maybe he missed being Nureyev’s go to in a pinch— his partner in crime. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t be rational. The two were a force to be reckoned with and he could prove it.

It started out innocent enough. Peter would paint Rita’s nails and do her make up. Rita would doodle on his arms with pens during mission briefings. And, of course, anything they did together seemed completely adorable— honestly the two could have robbed a person stupid and they wouldn’t even know. They’d be too caught up in how Nureyev stood two feet taller than Rita and she’d still found a way to snatch his glasses from his face.

The dynamic was simply too powerful and too unstable.

The thing about Rita was, no matter how level headed a person was, it was hard to say no to her. Even when Juno managed to be blunt with her it still felt like there might have been a bit of a yes in there. The thing about Nureyev was, despite his cool analytical demeanor, the man had a little crazy genius in him waiting to be let out.

They also both had a fondness for drama

This combination was nothing less than devastating.

Two weeks on the ship together and Rita had found that it was impossible to make enough popcorn for everyone on the ship with their microwave. Not enough space for that many bags. Now, if it were Juno he would have just taken turns. Sure it would have taken longer, but there was the same end result

Rita though... Rita wasn’t that patient. But she was also very smart. Smart enough to known the ships energy production system reached about the same temperature as the microwave, and smart enough to know how to get six bags of popcorn there.

And Nureyev? Well Nureyev was just slippery enough to get those bags where they needed to be.

Long story short, the ship had smelled of popcorn for weeks— not to mention Nureyev had nearly lost his eyebrows on the trip back down when one of the bags caugh aflame.

Juno liked those eyebrows, too.

For the life of him, he couldn’t figure out how two certified geniuses could get into so much trouble. And figuring things out was quite literally his job.

They talked about him too. Nothing bad he supposed, but it was still... frustrating.

Like- like he’ll be minding his own business and Nureyev will mention his pocket toothpaste, unprovoked

It’s none of his business if Juno liked to have emergency access to toiletries? It was sanitary!

And besides, Nureyev had pockets full of junk from the outer rim to the sun and back. He had no room to judge!

Oh, and, of course, there was the peter and Rita movie nights

Rita had just about every show in existence downloaded onto her comms long before they left mars, but the biggest screen on the ship was in the public sitting area just off from the kitchen.

Ever since the two of them had started hanging around each other it seemed like they were always watching something new. With Rita, it made sense. She’d been addicted to shows as long as he’d known her. Peter, though? Juno couldn’t see the appeal of watching a bunch of reruns for a master thief.

It didn’t matter— it was harmless in comparison to their popcorn related highjinks— and yet... well it was a lot of things.

Juno hadn’t got a good nights sleep in a couple days. THEIA was long gone, as was the misfigured shape as Miasma just before she was the victim of an unknowing suicide. He’d been moving on from all that, slowly but surely. In sleep, however, it was difficult to be in control of his mind.

When he closed his eyes he still heard voices sometimes, not exactly like when the Martian pill had still be in his head, but more of an echo of searching through others minds. He saw the face of Yasmin Swift and heard Ramses’s drawl. Bad dreams, that was all they were. He was never actually back in that blood sucking chair, but in the moment before he woke it sure felt like he was.

He was used to the nightmares— their intensity would fade and fluctuate in the months to come. He could handle that. For now he couldn’t help being a bit irritable. Lack of sleep always seemed to do that to him.

So sleep deprived asshole Juno was at the wheel when he stubbled across Nureyev and Rita having one of their usual movie nights a few days after they passed Saturn. Rita’s hair was in two tight braids, platted with Peter’s expert precision. Curlers were scattered across Nureyev’s own head, leaving Juno amazed that his hair was long enough to even hold them. They both sported green face masks that looked like just another skin care tip he didn’t know the first thing about. The biggest difference between the two was that Rita’s mask had pink salmon snack dust near the mouth.

“Y’ want wan?” Rita asked Peter, mouth stuffed full with crackers. Peter’s response came in the shape of a pained smile— one that said he’d fallen into that trap once and wouldn’t go back. He just had to find a way to put it nicely.

“I’m going to have to pass, unfortunately. I’d hate to deprive you your treat.”

Rita seemed to consider this and nod in agreement. “That’s a very good point, Mistah Petah”

By all means Juno could have just kept walking. The exchange was, admittedly, very sweet. With all his complaining, he had to say he was happy to see them both enjoying themselves. But then he caught sight of their film of choice.

Andromeda, the original. He knew the story well.

That was the last straw— Juno knew just about everyone in the galaxy had scene andromeda, but it felt... personal. Like they were watching his life story unfold on screen. It made his skin crawl, and, suddenly, he couldn’t take it anymore. He had to know how this pair had gotten so close so fast. Some of the most impactful people in his life were gathered in that room. He had a right to know how it’s come to be.

“Alright. Fine. I’ll bite. Someone explain to me what’s going on here,” he snapped, harsher than he’d expected.

Peter raised an eyebrow at him. “Just passing the time, detective.”

“That’s not what I— I mean when did this even happen?” He asked, gesturing vaguely at the two of them. How did I miss it his mind added, silently.

“It’s a small ship, Mistah Steel, we were bound to cross pathes eventually,” said Rita with significantly less snacks in her mouth. They looked at him with that look they both shared— the one that said, even though he was being an asshole, even though they’d make him apologize later, they were more worried about him for the time being. How could two people so incredibly different look at him the exact same way?

“Juno... are you alright?” Asked Nureyev when he didn’t answer. He wanted to be angry, to let himself fester in the self pity of being left out. But then again, it seemed almost natural now.

Of course— of course these two would get along. After all, if they could put up with him, they could probably put up with just about anyone.

If Juno was being honest, they were two stellar picks anyway

He let out a groan and collapsed onto the empty space on the couch right in between them. “I can’t understand what I’ve done to make you encourage her like this. I can’t stand this show.”

“Boss, weve been over this— just cause your taste is the absolute worst and you hate everything universally loved doesn’t mean everyone else feels the same way!”

Juno gave her an unconvinced look.

Nureyev chimed in: “actually, I have to agree with Miss Rita, I quite enjoy this— oh what was it called again?”

“Andromeda” answered Juno and Rita in unison.

“Ah, yes, Andromeda. We didn’t have anything like this in the outer rim.”

This seemed to catch Rita’s attention, her extensive movie knowledge kicking in. “Andromeda was a galaxy wide success, though. Surely you must have heard of it?”

There was a pause.

Juno knew Nureyev had never been in one place long enough to keep up with pop culture, and if he did stick around he wouldn’t have had the kind of spending money on him to see a movie. After that, he and Mag had been too busy trying to save the world to bother with things like that.

Rita, of course, hadn’t seen that side of Peter Nureyev. Juno thought he’d save him the trouble of explaining. “Rita the outer rim was ravaged by war. I doubt things work the same way they do on mars.”

This answer was enough to satisfy Rita. Nureyev, with a grateful half smile, nodded in agreement. “It’s a nice change of pace. I’m fond of this Andromeda, though. I can understand why she became to popular.”

Juno rolled his eyes while Nureyev continued. “Actually, now that I think of it, she reminds me a bit of you, detective.”

Rita snorted from beside him, finding the comparison immensely funny after all of Juno’s comments. She then descended into coughing, evidently having choked on one of her salmon crackers.

Juno... well he wasn’t sure how he felt about it. He’d always seen Sarah Steel in Andromeda— in all of North Star’s shows, really— but ever since he had his eye removed things had been different. Not exactly better. Knowing what he did now wasn’t easy, but it also left a lot less room for being bitter over twenty year old mistakes.

And now that Peter pointed it out, he thought he could recognize a bit of his brother in Andromeda, too. They said to write what you know, and Sarah had known her boys, at least back then.

He glanced at Nureyev to his right and Rita to his left. A few months ago, thinking about the old days would have sent him spiraling into a whole abyss of Things He Didn’t Want To Think About. But now? He felt strangely ok.

“You know... it has been a while since I’ve seen it. Maybe I’ll stick around.”

Rita nearly spontaneously combusted at that sentence. Peter smiled softly in that knowing way. “You know, I believe I have an extra face mask, too, if that sounds alright.”

Juno thought that sounded pretty good.

[benevolentcalamity]

Nobody  in your life had truly dared call you confrontational. Maybe even slightly passive, but you preferred to follow rules and not cause trouble, lest you and your folks give each other grief. So even in a setting full of people - and provided you’re not half-dead from just having toast and cold brew coffee before school -  you’re able to carry yourself more calmly and coolly. Quite frankly you’re much calmer than you expect under stress, to get it all straight.

Being someone who makes friends a bit more easily, you’re never without someone at your side, and as a result you’re quite popular in comparison to the unlucky girls in dramas. So, your school life isn’t at all terrible aside from the mundane lessons and the mostly colorless walls of the buildings.

Aoba Johsai high, known for not a clean building, not great lessons or a high rate of graduates, but of all things - the volleyball team. You’ve seen the boys themselves here and there, given they’re regular students, but you haven’t bothered talking to them.

Most popular among them is the setter: Tooru Oikawa. Known for his crazy jump serve on the court, known for being a practical womanizer in the school. There’s always what feels like a cloud of girls around him, fangirling over him while he tastes their sweets. It feels very pointless to you, him leading them on while not even seeming interested in a real relationship, but you hope he enjoys it while he can.

Yes, you have been a target of him for a time, but he surprisingly has it in him to back off when it’s clear you’re not interested. So he’s respectable in that right, but the flock of girls still bothers you.

But then, not your circus, not your monkeys.

... “[Name]!” You’re brought from your musings from your friend’s voice.

“Kuri, what’s up?” You ask, putting your pens and pencils in the case and putting it in your bag.

“There’s this dessert place that popped up just yesterday. S’got mochi - you wanna stop by?” Her grin, though crooked, is the most adorable thing.

With a nod, you smile, standing and putting the strap over your shoulder. “Sure.”

“Yay!”

As if on cue, the bell tolls, and the two of you head outside the classroom, when something catches your eye.

There’s some students gathering, muttering amongst themselves. Given fast colors past them, they’re either egging on some chaos or watching to see what happens. Not too inclined to let it be lest something terrible happens, you softly excuse yourself from Kuri’s side, pushing through the students and biting your lip with each gentle push.

“Excuse me, please.” You nudge past some third-years. “I have to get over there.”

The sight awaiting you is shaking.

There’s a first-year boy on the floor, for one thing, staring fearfully up at a figure in the standard volleyball uniform. He looks on the verge of wetting his pants, and his face is coated in sweat. Efforts of trying to get up only result in his legs and arms shaking.

Realizing the immediate danger, you’re quick to step forward. “H-hey, what’s going on here?”

The one wearing the volleyball uniform - a delinquent, surely, with his buzzed head and crazed eyes - half-turns his head toward you. “Buzz off.”

Meanwhile, the first-year stares fearfully at you, silently begging to be rescued but expecting you to abandon him.

Pursing your lips, you step forward again until you’re between them, facing the volleyball player and putting your hand up to create a sort of barrier.

“Hey, knock it off,” You practically command. “Don’t you know you can’t treat first years that way? Or anyone, for that matter.”

He just growls at you, snarling slightly in a clear attempt to intimidate you. Though your stomach churns at this tennis ball headed, rabid dog of a guy, you don’t back down.

“The hell is wrong with you?” You hiss. “You know better than that, right?”

He about looms over you now. “Go away.”

“You first,” You growl, then make a gesture behind your back, hearing the first-year gathering his bearings. “You wanna be angry, take it out on volleyballs, not other students.”

His eyebrow twitches, and you notice a student piping up.

“S-someone get a teacher-!” She squeaks. “He’s gonna kill her! He’ll take off her head-!”

The first-year eventually scuttles away, prompting him to attempt to shove past you. Quickly, you put up both hands, harshly shoving him and maneuvering so you’re blocking him again.

A cacophony of gasps, and the students back up, sensing an imminent brawl. You’re not afraid, even if being aware he’s bigger than you and realistically you won’t stand a chance. You’d be on the ground in seconds.

But still, you stick to your guns. “Leave. The guy. Alone,” you warn.

His lips curl into a full on snarl, and his almost hairless brows furrow together until what you’re looking at is a wild dog ready to eat you.

“Rrrrgh... Hmpf!” He stands correctly, unclenching his fists. “Little pig...”

“Mad Dog-chan!”

Both of your heads turn towards a familiar figure pushing through the crowd.

You blink. “Oikawa.”

The Grand King sighs, exasperated, scratching the back of his head. With an upward not at you in acknowledgement, he turns to... Mad Dog-chan?

“Come on, Mad Dog. Gone picking on pretty girls now?” He asks, then another figure - Iwaizumi - pushes past him, prompting Mad Dog to turn to him completely.

“Mad Dog, let’s go. Don’t screw up practice again this time,” He commands, then glancing at you. “Is he bothering you?”

“Ask the first years, Iwaizumi.” You know him, casually so. Not that you’re friends, but acquaintances. “I just made him stop.”

Now the exasperated one, he massages his temples. “Sorry ‘bout that. Now let’s go, Mad Dog.”

Mad Dog huffs, at first beginning to follow Iwaizumi and Oikawa’s retreating backs, but at the aisle of students, he stops, turning back to you. Raising his hand, he points at you, lips still curled.

“I’m not finished with you,” He warns, before he follows.

A silence in the air, the prying eyes of the students back on you, before suddenly you’re applauded.

“[Name]...” Kuri pushes through to you. “That was amazing...”

You swallow. “Who was that?”

She glances in the direction Mad Dog disappeared into. “That was Mad Dog... Kentaro Kyotani, actually. He hasn’t been on the team much - he’s really aggressive and uncooperative,” She explains, being knowledgeable enough about the subject. “I’m surprised he backed off you.”

“Yea, me too...” You shake your head. “Ramen and dessert? My treat.”

___

The next day is wrought with strange emotions, swinging like a pendulum between a sense of liberation and an odd, unexplainable anxiety that won’t go away no matter how much strawberry milk you gulp down.

However, the first-year you rescued, a skittish boy named Taka Josuke, thanked you just this morning, explaining what had happened. To make the long story short, he was trying out for the team, but made an enemy of Mad Dog upon criticizing his attitude toward the team and suggesting he, and you paraphrase, “not be such an asshole.”

Taka lacks a spine outside the gym, so it’s no surprise.

Since that incident, however, his name’s been dropped from the list - not because of him starting trouble with Mad Dog, but because he lacks the muscle and jumping power to play properly. After asking the coach about it (purely out of curiosity) he said they’d reconsider should he practice, practice, practice, and build up his mass. He also made a point to commend you, hearing from Iwaizumi how you’d stopped Mad Dog from going too far.

“You’d be a good team manager,” He mentioned. “Let me know if you’re interested - someone with spine like yours could be just what we need.”

It’s tempting, so you did say you’d think it over, and you still are.

“[Name], it’s still incredible how you managed to chase him off,” Kuri mentions, walking with you through the halls to have lunch outside. “You’re braver than you give yourself credit for.”

“I just did the right thing.” You tug your bento out of your bag. “Don’t get how a guy like him is even here if he acts like that.”

“They probably put him in volleyball for anger management,” She chuckles. “He needs a leash.”

“He is ‘Mad Dog’ after all, huh...” You trail off, noticing something odd.

Just when you do, a voice rings out, “[NAME] [LAST NAME]!”

There’s a chill through your body, gluing your feet to the floor as not only does Kuri back up, but literally all the students in front of you and down the hall do to make an aisle.

And at the end is him - Mad Dog, standing with that same stance as yesterday. Surely he and the other students are expecting you to put up your dukes. But, you won’t do such a thing. If he wants to get himself expelled for assaulting a student, so be it.

Your bravado all but cracks, however, as he advances, and it’s not until he’s right in front of you that you feel... minuscule.

Still, you clench your fists. “You wanna fight, I will.” You’re still aware of his muscles.

His hand shoots out, and you flinch as he yanks it towards him and up so your now clenched fingers aren’t too far from his face. Then his other hand comes up, prying your hand open and gripping it tight for a moment. An odd sensation, then it’s gone.

Almost seeming to sneer, he then turns away, leaving you be, confused face and hand up and all.

The other students stare, dumbfounded, as Mad Dog disappears again, eventually (reluctantly) continuing with their business, visibly relieved you haven’t gotten beaten up.

Biting your lip, you bring your hand back, staring at your palm, seeing a paper in it outlined by red sore marks.

xxx-xxx-xxxx

You’ve got guts.

“[Name]?” Kuri asks.

You swallow.

Mad Dog...

[peachscribe]

Explain to me how if you’re my guard why I’m the one always saving your life? Prince Nico to the rescue of royal guard Will Solace... maybe

i actually felt so inspired by this (after so long - have you forgotten about this already?) that i wrote this in one sitting. hard to believe since it’s an absolute monster (not really, but 5332 words is a lot to write in one siting)

it’s late where i am, and so im going to be bad and not review this like i should,, forgive me if things don’t make sense or if there are typos. perhaps tomorrow (later today) i’ll post the edited/revised version on ao3

without further ado:

“Well, this is certainly a sticky situation,” Will said, because he was at the moment stuck to a wall. A rather archaic trap, but effective, apparently.

No one laughed at his joke, but he figured that was fair. He wasn’t laughing either, but he was smiling like a lunatic. An unfortunate side effect of a dizzying concoction nerves and confidence born of escaping many sticky situations without too much trouble.

“Gentlemen,” Will said conversationally, casually trying to pull his sword arm out of the tar his entire front side was glued to. “I’m sure we can talk this out.” The scent of it was pure awful, burnt rubber invading not only the nostril that was fully submerged, but the free one as well. He was already mourning his natural scent of sawdust and daisies that he always thought made him seem quite fetching. Now he would smell like the lovechild of a (non-romantic) fire and one of those monstrous machines that were becoming quite popular with Prince Nico’s Uncle Hephaestus. Fabulous, really.

It seemed the nice gentlemen didn’t want to talk it out because one of them wrapped his filthy fingers in Will’s (previously) freshly washed hair, yanking him back and causing a wonderful tearing sensation to begin to take root in the skin and hair stuck in the tar and the skin and hair that wasn’t stuck in the tar.

“Where’s the prince,” he growled in his ear, making the phrase seem much more like a statement than a question.

“Interesting that you should ask that,” Will said, wincing when the man pulled harder and actually pulled Will’s face out of the tar. He wondered vaguely if his eyebrow had survived. “I’m starting to wonder as well.”

The man slammed Will’s face back into the tar rather harshly and then spat tobacco on the side of Will’s face that had previously been clean.

“We’re not going to get anything out of him,” one of the other men said. “He’s trained by the Royal Guard.”

“That is true,” Will pointed out. “And I could tell you wonderful stories of my times during training. You know, there was this one night when my cohorts and I snuck out-”

“Could someone please shut him up?”

“I wish whoever the brave soul is luck in that endeavor,” Will said because he’d just caught sight of a lingering shadow in the one window that was in his line of eyesight.

The same filthy man from before (Will recognized him by his pungent scent of garbage that had fermented in the sun for a couple of days) leaned in again, his foul-smelling breath mixing with the already foul air of the tar. “You got something up your sleeve, pretty boy?”

“You think I’m pretty?” Will asked just as the front door of the cabin exploded.

Chaos ensued, although much of it Will was unable to see. He heard the familiar growls and barks of Nico’s three headed wolf and the screams of the men that had been holding him, and he assumed enough.

When a heavy silence descended over the room and only the heavy breathing of the wolf heads remained, he ventured to speak. “Well, I must admit that you’ve saved me from a rather sticky situation.”

He heard a sigh. The sheathing of a sword. “How many times have you made that joke since getting stuck to the wall?”

“Only enough to be annoying,” Will responded, and in the quiet that followed, Will imagined that Nico was smiling. “Do you have a suggestion on how to free me from my current prison?”

“Mrs. O’Leary,” Nico said, his light feet moving about the room, “please take care of this buffoon.” Mrs. O’Leary, the previously mentioned three headed wolf, bounded over to Will immediately, her three pink tongues digging into the tar surrounding him and lapping it up like it was a particularly nice treat.

“So,” Will drawled as Mrs. O’Leary went to town on his tar-covered trousers, “how’d you spend your hours free of me?”

“The theatre,” Nico responded, followed by the swishing of rope, “followed by a tavern that serves the greasy foods that Persephone’s mother so hates.” More rope, followed by the casual sliding of dead weight on the wooden floor. “And then tracking you down.”

“How exciting.” Mrs. O’Leary had made quick work of his legs and had moved on to his torso. It was torture to resist laughing. “Tell me, my dear prince, was it worth it?”

Nico grumbled something unintelligible, and then seemed to purposefully lose himself in the work of tying up the culprits (all of which were still breathing, despite the drama they’d all fussed about it) and gathering them all together.

At last, Will was unstuck from the wall, and he stepped back, stretching out his neck and admiring the Will-shaped hole in the tar. Much still clung to the front of his clothes and the side of his face, but it was better than being stuck. Mrs. O’Leary propped her paws up on his shoulders and slobbered happily over his face.

Will was a relatively smart man, and so he kept his mouth firmly closed during this ordeal, although he kept an eye open and observed the prince.

He was standing, back straight and positively regal, against a wall. He had unsheathed his sword while waiting for Will to be freed and was polishing the pure black metal with a cloth that Will knew he kept in his bag. His face was tired although his body didn’t seem to be, and his hair looked as if he’d just rolled out bed, directly contrasting the awake posture. There was no crown adorning the messy curls, and Will suspected that was on purpose.

When Mrs. O’Leary had finished with Will’s face and had moved on to the side of his head where (hopefully) hair remained, Will dared to speak.

“I told these nice men that I was the prince, but they didn’t seem to believe me,” Will said, gesturing to the tied up men and crossing his arms as Mrs. O’Leary made his hair stand up only on that one side.

“You look nothing like my father,” Nico said without looking up from his sword. “It’s no wonder they didn’t believe you.”

“Really?” Will asked. “I’ve always thought my nose was quite similar to his.”

Nico finally looked up at him then, dark eyebrow raised. Will could see it took a lot for him to maintain that expression and not break into a fit of laughter, no doubt at Will’s expense. “It seems the tar has had a fight with your eyebrow,” he said, confirming Will’s worst fear.

“Who won?” Will asked, touching the offending eyebrow and immediately knowing the answer. Only a few hairs were left.

“The tar. Most definitely.”

“I’ve sacrificed so much for you, Prince Nico. How much more are you and your dastardly schemes going to cost me?” The was the second time in as many weeks that Will’s glorious (if he did say so himself) appearance had suffered because of Nico. First it was being forced to cut his long, luxurious hair to just around his neck, and now it was this. One whole eyebrow. Gone.

“It wouldn’t be so bad if you could save yourself, William,” Nico said, sheathing his sword once more and stuffing the cleaning cloth into his black leather bag. “What’s the good in being my personal knight when I’m the one saving you?”

“You say this as if the reason you’re having to save me isn’t that you are constantly putting me into bad situations,” Will quipped, and Nico scowled

“Is that any way to talk to a prince?”

“I suspect not, but I’m mourning the death of my best eyebrow, so you must excuse me.”

This is what made Nico’s face crack open into a crooked smile. Will thought it belonged right beside the stars. Nico ducked his face, quickly controlling his errant facial muscles and clearing his throat. “We must alert my father immediately concerning the kidnapping attempt,” he said, all prim and proper business as he straightened out his peasants’ shirt.

“These men will have to accompany us on our return to the castle,” Will responded, catching Nico’s stride in conversation and rolling with it. “Mrs. O’Leary will prevent them from leaving while we go and summon a carriage and a pull cart for the prisoners.”

They walked out of the cabin together, Nico having changed back into his princely attire and directing Mrs. O’Leary to stay behind. Will still wore his tar-stained white knight tunic, and he had picked up his golden sword from where it had been tossed when he had first entered the brawl with the unknown gentlemen. He was sure he was quite a sight with half his head all slobbered on and one whole eyebrow gone.

“It doesn’t look that bad,” Nico said, a sad attempt at reassurance tinging his voice as he pulled his golden crown out of his bag and fit it atop his curls.

“Well, if you’re saying that, then I know it’s bad.” He tried in vain to comb his wet hair covered in hellhound spit over the empty space, to no avail.

“You’re right. It’s hilarious.” Delivered in a deadpan. Nothing less of the prince, Will supposed.

“Speaking of bad,” Will said, eager to direct the conversation away from his missing eyebrow, “let’s discuss your habit of running away while in my care.”

“I’d rather not,” Nico grumbled.

“I’ve avoided telling your father,” Will continued as if Nico hadn’t spoken, “for your sake as well as my own, but I believe that it has become an excessive and needless problem.” Will cast a sideways glance at Nico as they entered the outskirts of the town. “The other knights say you’re perfectly behaved in their care. It’s only me you despise so much.”

“I don’t despise you,” Nico said, but that was as far as he got because they were then swarmed by townsfolk, demanding to know if it was truly the Prince of the Underworld standing before them. The reached out to him, but Will stood in front of him, hand on the hilt of his sword and eyes narrowed.

“This is indeed the prince you speak of,” Will said, making the line of the crowd push back a few steps. “And so you shall treat him with the respect he deserves.”

They all dropped to a knee or both knees, murmuring their prayers and praises for eternal life and prosperity. For Nico as well as themselves.

Despite Will being certain that Nico was quite embarrassed with this display, he jut his chin out and looked down his impressive hooked nose he’d inherited from his father. “Rise,” he said, and they did. Will stepped to Nico’s right side, hand still on his sword for the purpose of safety. Nico regarded the crowd with his deep set eyes, and then he spoke again. “My knight and I require a carriage for the purpose of returning back to the Underworld. We will also be needing a prisoner’s cart.”

The crowd looked around at each other. “We don’t have a carriage fit for a prince,” said a man with enough authority and sympathy in his voice for everyone to agree.

“A carriage fit for two people, whatever status, will be perfectly fine,” Nico replied, and the people sighed in relief. “The carriage will be returned, and a reward will be paid to its owner, as well as the rest of the town, for your hospitality.”

A chorus of praises rang out, and Will and Nico were escorted to the finest inn to await the preparations of the carriages and the prisoner’s pull cart.

Once they were alone enough, Will looked over at Nico, smiling broadly at him. “So you don’t despise me,” he prompted. Nico scowled.

“I’ll have your other eyebrow shaved off in your sleep.”

The men, after an interrogation conducted by Will that lasted far less of a time that he thought it would, were low-level criminals hired by an unknown person to kidnap the prince. For reasons unknown. What a great help they were, truly.

Will’s eyebrow grew back slowly and painfully, and he found himself checking its progress everyday in any mirror or flat surface of water when he had the chance. It had finally reached acceptable levels when Will was caught preening at his reflection in the waters of a fountain that stood in Persephone’s garden.

“One Narcissus is enough,” Nico said, and Will stood up from his perch on the fountain, saluting him and then breaking into a grin.

“At least I wasn’t making kissy faces at myself,” Will said, relaxing as Nico sat down on the fountain ledge and raised an eyebrow at him.

“You were far too close for my liking.”

“So what is to your liking?”

Nico’s eyes fell to his lap, and he turned away from Will, facing the fountain waters. He seemed almost like he had started counting the amount of golden coins that had been thrown into the magical waters.

“What brings you through the gardens in such a late hour?” Will asked, making Nico lose count of the coins.

“Well,” Nico said, still not looking at him and instead fiddling with his thumbs. “I was planning to sneak out.”

“Ooh,” Will cooed, sitting beside Nico at a safe distance for the both of them. “And you’re actually telling me as opposed to keeping me in the dark?”

“I’ll run now if you continue being strange about it,” Nico snapped, and Will laughed.

“Sorry, pretty prince. I’ll stay quiet.” Will mimed zipping his mouth shut. The pretty prince glared at him, pale face ablaze with a pink blush.

“There’s a festival Upstairs that I’ve been wanting to attend,” Nico continued, not breaking eye contact with Will, probably out of spite. “My father doesn’t like the idea because of the hitmen from that time-”

“Smart man.”

“-And I know he’s warned the knights about being persuaded by me-”

“This is true,” Will admitted with a nod. Hades had made the announcement earlier that day.

“-But I know that you have some things that you’d prefer my father not know,” Nico finished, expression blazing and determined. Will couldn’t help but laugh.

“Are you blackmailing me?”

“Yes,” Nico replied without hesitation.

“Prince Nico,” Will said, smiling a shaking his head, “if you wanted to invite me to the festival, all you had to do was ask.”

“So you’ll take me?”

“Sweet prince,” Will said, patting Nico’s cheek. “Absolutely not.”

Nico blanched, his perpetual scowl turning fierce. “But you just said-”

“That I’d be delighted to accompany you on a nice date through a festival, yes,” Will said, standing up and stretching out his limbs. “However, as much as you think I’m an idiot, I still believe in my duty to you and you father.” He offered a hand to Nico, which he took, and he helped the prince stand. “I swore to never purposely put you in harms’ way, and I plan to stand by that.”

“Why is it now that you choose to be valiant?” Nico asked, dropping his hand and shaking his head.

“Oh, little prince, I’ve always been valiant,” Will said, planting a hand on the small of Nico’s back and guiding him out of the gardens. “You’ve just never given me a chance to show off.”

Will took him back to his bedroom, making sure to keep his feet safely outside of the threshold. “Please sleep, Prince Nico,” Will said as Nico glared up at him. “Perhaps next year I can accompany you to this festival you so desire to attend.”

“Yeah, next year,” Nico scoffed, and then punched Will so hard in the jaw that stars danced in his eyes. He fell to the floor, and all went black.

Will woke up to a splitting headache and the familiar rumble of a carriage. Except the rumble was making his head rumble, and that was neither familiar nor pleasant. He groaned. His jaw throbbed.

“It’s good that you’re awake,” a nice voice said. Prince Nico. “We’re almost there.”

“You punched me,” Will said, opening his eyes and glaring over to Nico, who sat leisurely across from him.

“And cast a sleep spell on you,” Nico said, as if this wasn’t extremely offensive and criminal.

“For what purpose?” Will asked, sitting up and rubbing his aching jaw. He noted the warmth and weight of Mrs. O’Leary beside him with her heads resting in his lap. He gave her a pat.

Nico looked out the carriage window, scowling.

“I’ll find a way to turn this carriage around,” Will threatened.

“I’m never allowed freedom,” Nico muttered after a small space of silence. “Always guarded, always protected, as if I was never taught to defend myself.”

“You’re the only heir to an important kingdom - arguably the most important,” Will said. “What do you expect?”

“My father can walk outside of his kingdom, and he can do it without a bodyguard or a knight in shining armor.”

“Your father is also objectively terrifying.”

Nico’s sharp gaze turned on him. “Are you saying I’m not?”

“I must admit I’m biased,” Will said, and Nico rolled his eyes.

“Everyone is always preventing me from going out because of some mysterious threat,” Nico continued, shaking his head. “As if I won’t be threatened for my entire life. These things happen, and they happen, and they happen, and they never stop happening. And I’m told to cower in the face of things happening.”

Will pursed his lips. “What are you trying to prove, Prince?”

Nico turned his steady gaze to Will, all sharp angles and contrast. “That I’m not afraid to have fun.”

Having fun with Nico was probably the best thing that Will had ever semi-chosen to do. Nico was dressed in his peasants’ clothes, and he forced some on Will, too, and so they blended into the crowds of festival goers.

There were bright lights hung up on strings and stalls that glowed with the promise of prizes or food or both, and it was divine to hold Nico’s waist while attempting not to lose him in the crowd and pretend.

Pretend that they weren’t a knight and a prince. Pretend that they weren’t bound together by duty. Pretend that things were very different.

They took a break from the games at an empty picnic table, the spoils of their dominating the festivals games stuffed into cheap moleskine bags that they put by their feet. In front of them was a single plate of something fried and sweet with strawberry sauce, and already their fingers were covered in sugar and grease. Mrs. O’Leary sat upright, begging for a taste, and Nico let her lick three of his fingers.

“Now you know what you missed out on every time you abandoned me,” Will teased. “A good time with lots of laughs.”

“Oh, be quiet,” Nico said, swatting at the air. He didn’t look annoyed or angry, though, and in fact looked as though a smile was fighting its way to the surface.

“It’s okay to do that more often, you know,” Will said, lost in the pretend.

“What?” Nico asked, looking up from the plate of sugar. The smile was there, caught in the phase before its birth, right when it started to sparkle in his eyes.

“Smile,” Will said, pretending it didn’t take his breath away when the smile broke across Nico’s face. “It’s quite stunning.” Brighter than the festival lights, that’s for sure.

“And you wonder why I always ran from you,” Nico said, shaking his head and hiding his smile with another mouthful of the sugary sweet.

Will was still trying to figure out how to respond when someone yanked his head back and cold metal was pressed against his throat. Given that it was sharp and uncomfortable, Will guessed it was a knife. Nico stood, unsheathing his sword in the same breath as when the knife touched Will’s throat but more attackers surrounded the table. Mrs. O’Leary leaned close to the ground, growls low in her throats.

“Move and he dies,” said the person holding Will’s hair.

“What business?” Will asked, putting on his best imperial voice and tilting back his head to look his attacker in the eye. He was wearing a mask, a ridiculous one from the festival, and it wasn’t hard for Will to metaphorically look down his nose at him.

“We’re here for Prince Nico di Angelo of the Underworld, renowned dark sorcerer, heir to King Hades,” said one of the other attackers, also wearing a festival mask. That must’ve been how they were able to slip under Will’s radar, disregarding his distracted state.

“This is he,” Will replied coolly, and the group of attackers advanced. Nico opened his mouth, but Will shot him a look.

“The smaller one looks like him,” one of them commented, and Will rolled his eyes.

“We are wearing glamours,” he said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “That one is my white knight, disguised as me in the case of this kind of event.”

The attackers shifted uncomfortably. “You’re lying,” said the man holding the knife to Will’s throat.

“Am I?” Will challenged. “See how quickly he drew his sword. See how he is ready to defend me although there are so many of you. He only stopped because I started talking.”

Will was sure Nico would slap him for this later.

None of the attackers seemed to be able to argue with his logic, but none of them were willing to take it at face value. The knife at his throat pressed harder. “Why would you expose your ruse if you are the prince?”

“I would like to survive the night,” Will quipped. The knife dug in harder.

“That’s not enough.”

“And I love him,” Will blurted out, acting as if the words hurt him to say out loud. They did, but in a different way than what he was portraying. He cast his eyes downwards. “I love him, and I would rather be taken than allow him to fall by your hands.”

The attackers laughed, and Will raised his eyes to lock gazes with Nico. He was surprised, he could tell, but Will didn’t bother wasting precious facial expressions when he was being so closely watched.

“Please,” he sobbed, squeezing his eyes shut. “Take me and spare him.”

“Don’t do this, Prince,” Nico warned.

“My only wish is for you to be safe, my love,” Will said, opening his eyes and leveling a look heavy with meaning at him. “Safe and happy.”

Nico seemed to be relaxing into his character. His sword hand dropped, and he leaned forward, pleading and open. “How could I ever be happy without you by my side to protect?” he asked, and Will actually felt his heart squeeze in response.

He turned his face away. “Do not make this harder than it has to be, darling. Let me go.” Nico was a really good actor. He looked as though his heart was breaking.

“What a show,” the man holding Will’s head snarled. He yanked Will up so that he was standing, knife still pressed against his throat. “Beck and Selina, stay behind and take care of the knight. The rest of you come with me.”

Will was paraded off, the knife coming off from his neck as they entered the crowded parts of the festival and taking its place at the small of his back. “Scream, little prince, and I’ll make sure your death is slow and torturous.” Will nodded silently.

He was unceremoniously shoved into a carriage, a blindfold tied around his eyes and a gag stuffed into his mouth. The tied his wrists behind his back and took away his sword. And then they laughed and talked about normal things, as if they were normal and not currently kidnapping someone.

About an hour passed (Will had counted), and then he was paraded off the carriage and into someplace cold, and then to someplace cold and dark, where he heard locks clicking and the laughter fading. He counted, and prayed Nico was okay.

A day passed on the floor of the cold cellar - surely it must’ve been a cellar with how cold and damp it was - with no change. Will was hungry, but not starving, and although he was cold, he wasn’t freezing. All free thoughts were spent praying that Nico had made it to safety.

He was less sure the more time passed.

Another day passed, and then another. He was dehydrated and weak and probably the worst situation he’d ever been in because of Nico. But he didn’t blame him. He only begged the gods that he’d made it home safe.

It was during the third day that Will was forced up and poked and prodded through hallways and up staircases until his was panting with the effort to keep his balance. And then a hand shoved at his back, and he was forced to catch himself with his knees on hard, cold floor.

“Remove the blindfold,” said a rasping, cold voice that fit right in with the atmosphere. The blindfold was removed.

The bright light of day was harsh on Will’s sensitive eyes, and he was forced to close them right after he opened them. Slowly, he opened his eyes again, though they watered and burned, and he raised his face to stare at his captor.

It was a man withering away. Centimeters from death, though it looked as if he was closer to simply turning to ash. His hair was long and gray and brittle, seamlessly blending in with his beard, which matched the color of his robes, which matched the color of his skin. The only hint that he was alive at all was the surreal glow of his golden eyes, disks of color pressed into a statue of a dying man.

He sat on a throne made of gold, and the rest of the room was a mess of black and white. But Will spared only a glance at that. He focused on the man’s eyes, defiant without saying a word.

“You’re glamour has lasted a long time,” the old man said, as if it was a joke.

“No less quality expected for a prince,” Will replied, his voice rough and grating without an ounce of water to smooth it out.

“Where is the prince?”

“You’re looking at him,” Will replied, and there was a kick to Will’s back that made him double over in an attempt to catch his breath.

“He knows you’re lying,” said the voice of the man who’d captured him.

“Luke,” the old man chastised, “let’s be nice to our guest.” The golden disks had never left Will. He knew this even though there were no pupils to speak of. “I will ask you again. Where is the prince?”

He was asking it so nicely, but Will felt the aura of power and dread. He wasn’t a fool.

“Perhaps you should listen to what I’ve told you,” Will said, catching his breath. “You’re looking at him.”

“Tell us where the prince is, and your life will be spared,” the man said, sounding bored.

An unexplainable hope barreled through Will’s traitorous heart, and he found himself saying: “The prince is here.”

The man sighed, waving a frail hand. “Take him away.”

The one called Luke hauled Will to his feet rather roughly, and then shoved him to the door. And then the door burst open, and Will whirled, kneeing Luke between the legs and diving to the side as Prince Nico barged into the room, slashing Luke with the knife so quickly, the boy had no time to dodge the blade as it tore open the skin of his face. Luke cried out, falling to the ground and pressing his hands over the bleeding gash.

Nico stood like a knight, black sword unsheathed and sharp face positively warrior-like as he stared down the man in the chair. The air crackled with power, and then Will laughed.

“I told you,” he said, and then Nico helped Will to his feet as he continued laughing. The man said nothing.

“I will be taking what’s mine now,” Nico said, throwing out a hand and making the shadows of the room circle around each other to make a portal. He was just about the push Will through when the man spoke.

“I will find you again, Nico,” he said, calmly, patiently. “And when I do, you will be giving me what I want.”

“You’ll find me again, Kronos,” Nico said, just as calmly. “But I’ll find you first.”

And with that, he pushed Will through the portal and then jumped in after him.

When Will woke up, Prince Nico was resting his head on the hospital bed, fast asleep even as he clutched one of Will’s hands in his own.

Will had been catching up on the nutrients he’d missed out on while in captivity, and on sleep, which he’d been doing most of the hours of the day. Nico had visited over the past couple of days, but this type of vulnerability was uncommon. Will nudged him awake.

“Hey, pretty prince.”

“You’re feeling better,” Nico grumbled shifting and rubbing his face with his free hand. Will noticed that he didn’t let go of Will’s hand, and he tried not to focus on that too much.

“You’re entirely correct,” Will said, voice quiet even though he had his own personal room. But it was still dark, and it felt wrong to speak too loudly. “I feel ready to take on a few hydras and perhaps some greasy food.”

“You’ll throw it all up,” Nico replied, his voice rough with sleep.

“You sure know how to talk sweet to me,” Will teased, and Nico looked away. “But you’re correct. I would probably throw up all the hydras.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Nico said, and Will laughed, keeping it low in his throat, closer to his heart.

“You should be more clear with what you mean.”

“You first,” Nico quipped back.

“That’s fair,” Will said reasonably. “I meant that hydra skin is so tough and an absolute hellion to cook, and so eating it at present would be-” He stopped, laughing again when he saw Nico’s scowl. “Kidding.”

“I don’t know why I saved you,” Nico grumbled, burrowed his face into the hospital blankets.

“Well, technically, I saved you first,” Will said.

Nico shifted so that he could see Will, and one of his starry smiles pulled at his lips. “Then that makes us even.” He squeezed Will’s hand, and Will’s heart skipped a beat in response.

“You’re entirely unfair,” Will whispered, and the smile spread over Nico’s face, lighting up his eyes and showing his teeth, almost against his will.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

Will squeezed his hand and brought it up to his lips, where he pressed a kiss to Nico’s knuckles.

A beat of stunned silence. Nico’s face was blazing.

“And you’re calling me unfair,” Nico said. “What was that for?”

“Saving me,” Will said, kissing Nico’s knuckles again.

Nico blinked, his breath hitching. “And that one?”

“Because I wanted to,” Will said, pressing another kiss to his knuckles. “Because I meant it when I said I wanted you to be happy and safe.” Another kiss. “Because I meant it when I said I loved you.”

It was a confession. A dangerous one, and they both knew it.

But Nico just ducked his head, pulling their conjoined hands down to his lips, and pressing a kiss of his own to Will’s knuckles. “Because I meant it when I said I couldn’t be happy without you by my side.”

It was dangerous. It was probably looked down upon. But when they fell asleep again, dawn close and warm, their hands were still together, and smiles rested on their lips. The waking sun didn’t wake them, but it welcomed them with open arms.

thanks for reading!

[nastyaphrodite]

Mother Tongue - Demetria Martinez

fyi one of the most poetically written books I’ve ever read, quotes are too good to lose to time.

(will be tagged personal, but this is not personal ...)

pg. 4: and I was one of those women whose fate is to take war out of a man, or at least imagine she is doing so.

pg. 5: before his arrival the chaos of my life had no axis about which to spin, a center far from God that I asked for forgiveness in advance.

pg. 12: Everything else is remembering. Or dismembering. To create a man out of blanks that can never wound me.

pg. 15: From day one I looked for ways to graft a piece of myself onto him, to become indispensable. My gestures were perfectly timed, touching his hand, twisting my hair, excusing myself to touch up my lipstick---ordinary actions that would reverse the tides of my life as in the theories of physicists who say the dance of a butterfly can cause volcanoes to erupt.

pg 16: Love at first sight, this how I explained the urgency that would later shed its skin and reveal pure desperation. Some women fall in love in advance of knowing a man because it is much easier to love a mystery. And I needed a mystery---someone outside of ordinary time would could rescue me from an ordinary life, from my name ... a blessing that had become a curse. At age nineteen, I was looking for a man to tear apart the dry rind of that name so I could see what fruit fermented inside.

pg. 19: Yes, from the very beginning I wanted him. In that time of my life, men were mirrors that allowed me to see myself at different angles. Outside this function, they did not exist. It was a supreme selfishness, the kind that feeds on men’s attentions, a void flourishing in a void. **** In the end, I had no choice but to love him. Desire was not good enough. Love would ripen in the light of time we spent together, like an arranged marriage. Except that I was doing the arranging. And calling it fate.

pg. 20: I swear to God the moment I laid eyes on him I knew he was The One. And it can’t be a coincidence—that he arrived on the scene just as I was asking the universe whether or not there was more to life than just holding down boring jobs. I’d been so depressed. Now everything has changed. Still, I know I should slow these feelings down. Or else I’ll want to act on them—which always ruins everything. I’ve got to remember I can’t “make” anything happen beyond doing the footwork for some greater purpose that may be trying to manifest here. Maybe I’m supposed to just be his friend.

pg. 22: It’s like I’m going for longer and longer periods of time forgetting I’m depressed. Which maybe is a definition of happiness.

pg. 23: Peace. Joy. Openness to the future. How else can I describe what I’m feeling except for the big “L” word, which I don’t dare say out loud. Because it’s like yelling fire in a theater. Men flee and my girlfriends say to me, you fool.

pg. 26: Very often, when I try to remember those days, everything comes to mind except for memories of myself: what I looked like or said or felt. This is where it gets painful. You see, memory does not always serve me. It seeks images and feelings to hook on to, but at times encounters only voids. The facts are easy enough to recite. *** I fled the world, went inside, ceased to feel. You could say I fell asleep. There was no mystery to it. Quite simply, it was easier to sleep and pretend to be awake than to stay awake and pretend to be strong. *** They had words for women like me. Insane fell out of favor as did nervous breakdown. Clinically depressed was, I believe, in vogue. But ask any woman who has had times in her life when she was not all there. She will say she was asleep. And women who fall asleep and don’t know why lack a plot line; this is the secret source of their shame. So I concocted a plot of my own, orchestrating what I could until characters began to say and do things I had never imagined, me included. To prove the gods at least were interested in me, I courted disaster, set out to love a man I knew full well would go away. Falling in love was a way of pinching myself. It proved I was alive only on that thin line between drama and trauma. I handed my body over ... like a torch to help him out of his dark places. I felt no shame. I was utterly unoriginal. To love a man more than one’s self was a socially acceptable way for a woman to be insane.

pg. 32: It was like taking one last look around a hospital room where someone I loved had died. And I cried, I couldn’t stop, it was a surprise. I thought my arroyo of grief had long ago dried up, leaving only an imprint of the storm.

pg. 49: I was young, future tense came naturally to me: Iré, irás.… I will go, you will go. I have always lacked talent for living in the here and now, and back then I was easily transported into luminous, unobtainable futures.

pg. 55: Where others saw indigo, I saw blue; where others saw teal, I saw green. It’s the draining away of color that happens in a woman’s life when she can’t name her own reality. It is only now that I am able to go back and color in the pale places, creating a mural on the walls of the life I now inhabit.

pg. 59-60: The truth is, some of our tenderest moments are the ones I am least likely to remember. It has to do with what I said about sleep, how women like me sometimes flee, letting loving words or glances melt on the hot pavement of some nameless fear. So forgive me if I embellish; even a conjured memory is better than no memory at all if you would dare to give your life what the world did not, a myth, a plot. Besides, I never intended to reconstruct him from memory, just from love, which may be the only way anyone can ever hope to get at the whole truth.

pg. 61: I knew the name but not the man.

pg. 63-64: Now I have reason to improve my Spanish. I have a word and a way of life to conjugate: Quiero, quieres, quiere, queremos.… To want and to love, the same thing! God, make this thing last. Make it last. I sound crazed, I know, but with good reason. My period’s due any moment, and I have found true love. The kind that pulls all of life in one direction. It’s too much. Already, his presence in my life is helping me forget all the sadness (what was it about?) that pulled me down for so long before he came. *** The thought of being with him forever is intoxicating. But I’ve got to be careful. I’ve got to stay in the present. The minute I get hung up on the idea of forever, on what will happen tomorrow, I ruin everything.

pg. 65: But I don’t need sleep, I don’t need food, just you, I answered. I unpeeled myself from him, removed myself like a bandage. The cruelty of limits stung: the need for sleep, food, a paycheck however small. If an hour were a house one could move into for good, I would have built a wall around the 2 o’clock hour, a brick wall arrayed against the disfiguring fury of the future.

pg. 66: We opened each other up like sacred books, Spanish on one side, English on the other, truths simultaneously translated.

pg. 68-69: But I’m deceiving myself again. Lying. For a long time after (he) I continued to believe a man could touch my essence, make me whole. All that time I could have been writing, touching the fires of my being and returning to the world, purified and strong. *** You see, I was one of those women who is at her best when she wants something very badly. The mating dance, the yearning and flirting, surrenders and manipulations—I was good at that, so good at the pursuit that when I actually got what I wanted, terror appeared. Terror that wore the silly mask of disappointment.

pg. 73: The few friends I had during that spell of my life quit calling; the word must have gotten out that (I) was in love. They knew I wouldn’t come out of the house, the house I drew with crayons, a house of primary colors I called love. The first time I fell in love, friends tried to tell me it was not real. To prove them wrong, I drew a keyhole on the front door and invited them to look through to the other side. See for yourselves, I said.

pg. 76: It’s dangerous for a couple to promise to stay married until they die. It’s better to vow to stay together until the marriage dies—and to do everything in their power to keep it alive. If you don’t think of marriage as a plant, fragile and in need of attention, then you’re asking for major trouble.

pg. 77: That’s what I hate about love. Bit by bit you start to give things up. You become like a good parent. But I love him so it’s all worth it. I’ve never felt this way about anyone.

pg. 81-82: Unfortunately (or fortunately?), wounds will often start healing even if you don’t want them to, even if you would rather die quietly in the corner of a cell. The body’s will to live sometimes is greater than that of mind or spirit.

pg. 86: Do I just let things continue until they fall apart? The warmth of her flesh is all I have to make me forget. But alcohol does the same thing. Am I using her? Or is she using me each time she looks at me and loves what is not there?

pg. 87: No, I haven’t forgiven myself for being disappeared from myself any more than I have forgiven him.

pg. 88: He carved that question mark into my heart and kept watch over it until I could wake up and cry out.

pg. 89-90: Things began to happen. There were times he didn’t call, times he didn’t say I love you, nonevents that hurt in little ways, like paper cuts, but that added up. It could be these nonevents had happened all along, the normal ups and downs of relationships. But at a certain point, I began to perceive that he was pulling away from me and thinking about other things. And fear ate at my heart like battery acid. But it’s very likely that I only imagined him pulling away, imagined the whole thing. You see, the fear I am best at is always based upon a myth. *** ... assumption that to survive one sometimes must flee all that is loved. This is what terrified me. His body was branded with the equation, love equals flight.

pg. 94: You see, real love is quiet as snow, without chaos, hard to write about.

pg. 95: They were not like the white God I’d had to kill, that women like me must kill if we are to have any hope of ever finding God. Nothing replaced Him for a long time. But looking back now I can see that the growing chaos inside blazed away dead growth, clearing a space, however violently, for God to be reborn.

pg. 96-97: There were so many moments I would rather not talk about but in this dark night of remembering, they are blooming like night flowers. *** When he didn’t call, my world shriveled. Fetal position. Blistered finger pad. Or when he called and didn’t say, I love you, I shattered, then mistook a piece of me for the whole, a mistake that disfigures women’s lives time and again. But I lacked the nerve to tell him how I was feeling.

pg. 101: Now, as I write this, I can’t remember the real me. It’s terrifying, that you can love someone so much that you lose your own self in the uproar. I can’t remember the me who loves September, who loves to walk or read.

pg. 117: But every woman should have a special place inside where she can think, where no man is allowed, a place that will, you know, endure. Why do you think I took up letter writing? No man is worth falling apart over. Take it from me.

pg. 146: love could not be used like a cage to make a man stay. What if the universe now was telling me that it might take even greater love to let someone go? But I was not capable of detachment.

pg. 155: And as it is at times with bones, my heart needed to be broken and reset properly so it could carry me through life.

pg. 163: I’m tired, frightfully tired. Like snake venom, this story’s medicine had to be drawn from my own body. Maybe you won’t even read this, I don’t know. Long ago I began this tale for reasons I could not yet articulate, maybe for no reason at all. *** Promesas are as dangerous as skydiving, leaps into thin air. Nothing frightens me more than an answered prayer. And nothing taxes a body more than giving something back to God. This is why I am so tired, why I have spent this day crying in my room.

(4-2-19/4-2-19)

[savingpartoftheworld]

Saving Part of the World - Part One - Chapter Twelve

Summary: Set after G-Rev, the World Championships have come to Belfast, Northern Ireland in the hopes of spreading the interest and drawing in tourists. In between all the teen angst and the team drama, something powerful and hungry lurks on the horizon and with the help of the beybladers, it may just destroy part of the world.

Rated: T for cursing and mild violence

Ships: Hints of Mariah/Rei, Hilary/Tyson, Enrique/Julia

Previous Chapters: One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten Eleven

Chapter Twelve

“Hey, Hilary and Amber must have made up,” Tyson said to Max as the two of them sat in the arena watching the battle below them. The preliminary matches for the Singles weren’t gaining much of an audience, certainly not as much as Ming-Ming or the BBA had expected, so the two boys had decided to be the best cheer squad any new blader could need. Tyson believed that the most inspirational thing was knowing you had support and that you entertained people. “Oh? Hey, that was a nice dodge.” “He could go far,” Tyson agreed, before continuing with the pervious conversation. “They’re going to the park. At least she’s not dragging us with her, heh.” He grinned, swiping his thumb over his upper lip. It would be nice for Hilary to have a friend, especially since Mariah was still spending time with Rei – even if they were just helping Kenny improve his blade. “That Ukrainian is good,” Max mused, resting his hands on his knees as he leaned closer. “He’d definitely be on a team if the BBA had an office there.” But Boris gave the whole system such a devastating blow that many Bladers were going unnoticed unless they could move closer to a BBA registered office. However, this tournament was giving everyone a chance to get noticed and receive potential sponsorship. That was something that really inspired Tyson. He was even thinking of talking to Dickinson about being a Beyblade talent scout once he gave up blading for good, and recently that idea was becoming more and more appealing. Not that he didn’t love the sport, he just wanted a change of pace. A camera popped up to zoom in on them and both boys did their duty as world champs by smiling and waving to the audience at home – if there was one. As the camera glided off, Tyson turned his attention back to the dish, fixing the collar on his jacket emblazoned with the Bladebreaker insignia. “So are you planning to talk to Hilary about Kai?” Tyson’s lips thinned. He didn’t even need Max to expand on that question. What she and Kai did in the privacy of their rooms was their business, just as long as it didn’t impact the team. “Nope.”

“I really think you should. You do know there’s nothing going on between them, right? They’re just friends.” Tyson’s stomach flipped but he squashed down the quick swirl of hope. “Sure.”

They were friends. He and Hilary were friends, but she didn’t spend the night in his room, in fact, she barely spoke to him anymore, and when he did see her she acted awkward around him as if he was bothered her. Of course, she’d prefer Kai; all girls liked the guy who brooded.

He flinched at his malicious thoughts. Kai was his friend. Hilary was his… friend. He could accept them as a couple, just as long as he never had to see them be a couple. The blade shot out of the dish and almost wedged in the floor.  Tyson’s tension eased and he grinned at his friend. “Did you see that hit? Man, I love this sport. You just never know what’s going to happen next.” Max chuckled and patted his shoulder. “Too right, buddy.” “Hello,” Enrique greeted, taking a seat beside them. Both boys greeted the Italian who looked like he’d seen better days. Tyson passed him one of the energy drinks they’d picked up on route to the arena. “You look beat, is everything okay?” Enrique made a face. “We have a token match tomorrow and one of our three-man-team refuses to blade.” Refused to blade? What kind of participant did that? Tyson frowned and twisted in his seat. “The Irish guy?” Because he knew Julia would never refuse, she thrived on the sport and the adoration of the crowd. “Si, good old Eoin,” he pronounced it ‘Own’, “doesn’t want to blade, so he’s leaving it up to me and Julia and we need him because there’s no sign of our fourth teammate.” Tyson nodded. He’d heard about Europe’s team trouble, which was to be expected. Not one year had gone by where their preliminaries hadn’t caused chaos of some sort. There were the Dark Bladers during the year of the Majestics and then the Barthez Battalion year. But it had all come good in the end. “So tell him he has to play.” Tyson shrugged, exchanging a bewildered look with Max. Neither of them could imagine not wanting to play. In fact, they had more arguments about who would sit on the bench during a battle. “Exactly,” Max agreed. “Maybe he’s shy or doesn’t feel he fits in. You and Julia have met before, perhaps you just need to make him feel more included. Talk to him, get to know him.” Just like Max had done with Rick, Tyson thought with a smile. Goosebumps rose on his tanned arms as the aircon kicked up a notch and he rolled the sleeves of his jacket down. “I would. I am very sociable, but I can’t get in contact with him and he hasn’t met with us. He doesn’t show up for practice and if it wasn’t for the fact that he lives here and the local media constantly talks about him, I wouldn’t even know that he’s on the team. It’s got to the point where I’m tempted to tell Dickinson that we have to pull out. Julia and I can’t hold the team together by ourselves.” Tyson closed his mouth audibly. “Man, that does suck.” “We won’t do it.” Enrique sulked, dropping his chin to his arms, which he’d folded over the back of the chair in front of him, his messy blonde curls turning blue in the strobe lights flashing over them as new bladers were announced. “Why aren’t the others here?” Enrique muffled a yawn and sipped at the drink. “After the situation with Barthez and how none of the top dogs could see how he’d cheated or cared to hear about it, Robert felt he couldn’t in good faith take part again. It was something about ethics and betrayal. And Johnny said he’s studying for his degree so he couldn’t just up and leave for a tournament during the middle of his exams, but that’s probably half the reason. He wasn’t too happy about Barthez either. Meanwhile, Oliver’s opening another restaurant in the South of France and can’t leave it mid-project — which is a shame; out of everyone, I miss hanging with Oliver the most. So it was just left to me to represent the Majestics, though we were never really a conventional team.” “I was hoping to see those guys again, maybe get another turn at Robert, see how we stack up now.” Enrique smiled but then it flattened and died. “This is my last tournament before I’m forced to take over the Family Business and give up my ‘Lothario’ ways. This was my only excuse to justify leaving the country.” Max snorted in disbelief. “I can’t imagine being forced into doing anything.” “Does your family own a multi-billion Euro company?” Enrique shot back; then grimaced. “I apologise. Quite frankly, I don’t know why they want me involved. My father’s deathbed will be the desk he sits at. Sorry, that was unfair. You’re lucky, Max. Your dad seems great. My family is strict and business orientated. Kind of like Robert, but without the beyblading to release some of the stress.” Tyson flinched. That could not be easy to live with, especially for free spirited and flirtatious Enrique. He had probably tried so hard to gain his father’s respect but to no avail. Rubbing the back of his neck, Tyson frowned. “I can’t really understand your dad’s attitude. My dad spends a lot of his time digging in the dirt, so I rarely see him but when he does get in contact, he always encourages me to follow my dreams.” “Same with mine,” Max murmured. Enrique made a face. “So it’s just my dad then. Wonderful.” Max and Tyson looked at each other. “No, Kai would understand.” “Well his dad is dead and his grandfather is in jail,” Max hurried to explain, “but the whole taking over a company thing, he would get that.” Enrique jerked a shoulder then slumped. “Doesn’t matter. I don’t even get economics. It’s all foreign to me. This” – he gestured to the arena – “this I understand. And girls.” Tyson breathed in deeply. “Yeah, this I understand.”

For a country known for its rain, the sun could certainly reach hot temperatures. On the rooftop where Brooklyn had sought some privacy, the concrete burned, heat radiated off it in waves that distorted the view below. With his white shirt beginning to dampen with sweat, Brooklyn inched further into the diminishing shade offered by a low wall and stretched out his leg to ease a gathering cramp in his muscles. With a soft sigh, he turned his beyblade over in his hand and studied it. Without the bitchip — which burned in his shirt pocket — it looked naked, harmless. And wrong.   Pressing his lips together, he slipped his fingers between the fabrics and retrieved it. It was so innocuous, this piece of plastic that slotted so perfectly into the top of the beyblade but which contained so much power. Only the fierce depiction of the beast upon it lent any credence to the danger it could unleash. A flash of movement caught his attention and his teal eyes flicked to his silent companion, sitting crossed legged on the ledge overlooking the city of Belfast. If the height distracted Mystel, he didn’t show it. Brooklyn admired that. It made being with the younger boy soothing, easy. As Brooklyn flipped the bitchip over in his fingers, Mystel smiled faintly and turned his face to the sunlight. Brooklyn’s mouth tightened further. He didn’t want Mystel to fear him, but sometimes he wondered if his companion really understood what could happen. Brooklyn hadn’t dealt with the bitbeast since his battle with Tyson. That jaunt into madness had been more than terrifying and proved a greater deterrent than any words of warning ever could have.

Despite Tyson bashing through the madness, Brooklyn couldn’t help but fear another breakdown. It had come upon him so easily, how could it not happen again? On the surface, he told everyone that he was better; it was true, he now understood the value of friends and that he wasn’t alone. However, that didn’t mean he felt comfortable with his bitbeast. Zeus forced him to confront his inner demons. Zeus took the form of them. And now he was going to connect with his bitbeast once more. “Are you certain this will work?” Mystel hummed and popped open one eye. “Certain? No. Hopeful? Yes.” Brooklyn scowled. “That doesn’t make me feel good.” Mystel shrugged and pulled a knee to his chest. “The visions come from Zeus, right? And they’re stronger now you’re here in Ireland, but they’re not clearer. So perhaps connecting with Zeus himself and gaining some control over him will help with that. This is just practice, you won’t be in a battle Brooklyn and I’m right here to knock you out of a psychotic episode if you need it.” That wasn’t the most reassuring statement he’d ever heard. But it would do. Grimacing, Brooklyn snapped the bit chip into place and felt the pulse of power as his bitbeast began to awaken - no, he was always awake, now it was as if Zeus was stretching his limbs and getting ready to rise. There was a giddy eagerness rushing through the bond that clicked into place between them. It was like having a puppy bouncing at the door to the kennel. Brooklyn would have smiled if he wasn’t afraid the bitbeast would take complete control of him in an attempt to ‘save him’. “So I launch him, and then focus?” “Yes. It’s like basic practice for endurance. You just need to connect with Zeus again, exercise your bond with him, that psychic link we all forge with our bitbeasts in order to make our blades do what we want them to do in the dish. You need to listen to him so that he’ll learn to listen to you. He’s giving you visions for a reason; let’s find out what they are, especially if you want to save the girl.” Brooklyn ignored the last comment. He didn’t want to think about the girl just yet. “He’s not giving them,” he said. At least he hoped Zeus wasn’t because that suggested something that Brooklyn was too terrified to face. A sentient being that was constantly linked to him, beyblade or no beyblade. “He’s amplifying them.” His tone was forceful, refusing to be denied. Mystel rolled his shoulders and leaned his head back to bask in the sunshine. Brooklyn’s fingertips buzzed at the urge to pull his friend back. Not that he need worry, Mystel was so agile that he would land on his feet, even from the fifth storey. Getting to his feet, Brooklyn threaded the ragged chord through the basic launcher - another thing he hoped would remind Zeus that this was not an actual battle. Zeus’s pulse became more pronounced, greedy little growls escaped, the creature desperate to be released. Steadying his arm, even as beads of sweat rose on the nape of his neck, he concentrated on the spot he wanted to launch the blade and ripped the chord out, sending the black beyblade spinning to the ground. It landed, bounced and abruptly locked into position, swirling with an intensity that made it blur. The bitchip began to glow. “Suppress him,” Mystel ordered. Brooklyn nodded and pressed against the bitbeast’s desire to rise. He focused on the shining spot because his will alone would be the plug upon the well that was Zeus. The shining became more intense, splitting as it tried to rise, the aura flickering and spreading over the beyblade. It continued to spin until with a jerk, it veered and hit a stone. It wobbled, circled twice more before coming to a halt. Brooklyn sighed. “Like dealing with an irate child,” he murmured, picking up the now hot blade. The attack ring burned as if it had been out in the sun for hours, rather than a few seconds. “There’s no balance,” Mystel said. He rose to his feet with the grace of a panther, before dropping off the ledge onto the roof. Were it water, he wouldn’t have made a ripple. “And how do I gain balance?” “You wish to be master of Zeus, but Zeus wishes to be master of you. You never worked together; it was always a dominance issue.” “Mystel,” he growled. “Tell me how to do this.” He didn’t need the mumbo-jumbo. He needed the know-how. With a soft laugh, Mystel bent backwards and flipped over with a perfect stance. “Meditate.” “You’re kidding me.” “You and Zeus must become partners otherwise there’s no cohesion; no balance, no success.” “I don’t know how to meditate. I tried it before. I got bored.” Once he’d even fallen asleep. “You also nearly died by toothbrush. I’m guessing you really want to get this sorted.” Well, when Mystel was right, he was right. Death by toothbrush was so unfitting. Brooklyn looked at his beyblade. The sunlight caught the etching of the beast and created a refraction of light, almost as if Zeus were winking at him. Snorting, Brooklyn dropped back down to the ground. “So how do I do this?” “Lie down and close your eyes. You’ll need to clear your mind, try to sense Zeus; I’ll act as your guide.”

Some days, Mariam loved her job. Not every girl could spend the day, soaking up the sunshine under a cloudless, blue sky, while loitering on a windowsill high up on a towering building, watching boys work out in a gym across the street. It was a nice life, and she didn’t feel one bit sorry for her quarry. Poor Blitz-boys, they probably thought they were quite safe from prying eyes four storeys up from the ground, but Mariam was flexible; Mariam was very good at her job. After all, there had to be some minor perks to being a female in a male-dominated village and sport. Below her, a car jerked to a halt and blared a horn at a jay-walker who responded in kind with a desultory finger. She was pleased that the windows to the gym faced onto a rather quiet road, which meant her chances of being seen had lessened significantly. Really, gathering a crowd torn between wanting her to save herself and to see the drama of someone jumping had no appeal for her. She was just here to do a little spying on the Blitzkrieg Boys for Ozuma and if she happened to enjoy the sight of glistening muscles, then all the better.

The boys, almost men she supposed, had been working out for the past two hours. And since Kai had arrived, half an hour ago, a tension had settled over them, which intrigued her. Why would Kai play on a team that didn’t quite trust him when he could be back on his old team who adored him? That was a question she couldn’t find a satisfying answer to. Perhaps Kai was simply perverse. Sucking on her ice pop, Mariam draped an arm around her knee,and swung her other leg. She definitely had the easier gig. The B-boys were encamped for the day it seemed; all she had to do was sit with her treasure trove of sweets and other delights, and watch them sweat and flex.

That was no hardship at all.

Red was gorgeous, no doubt about it. A startlingly beautiful man with such vivid blue eyes, the kind she would find herself staring at if she saw him walking down the street, and had he the perfect personality, she’d probably lose her senses. Luckily for her, he didn’t. Kai was… well, Kai. He definitely had stoic and brooding down to an art, though his mood swings probably cost him more admirers than he actually gained. Then again, his voice could probably bring them back. She had to admit, he had a nice voice. Big Blond looked like he’d had a run-in with a bus and she wasn’t sure which came off worse. His nose had obviously been broken and was flattened out of shape, his mouth thin and wide above a square-cut jaw.  His straw coloured hair was shorn into a buzz cut that was held off his face with a headband. He wasn’t ugly, but in comparison to Red and Kai, well he wasn’t winning any beauty competitions. Then there was the pale one. He was striking. Not stunning, not conventionally handsome but… striking. She couldn’t even pinpoint what it was about him that stood out because by rights his features seemed average and yet he was attractive. Short, cropped, pale hair — not quite grey, not quite purple — pale skin, pale eyes. He was stocky and muscled, but not the tallest, not the shortest, just average. But she couldn’t seem to ignore him. And God, the man had arms to die for; even the t-shirt he wore had split the seams of his sleeves.   A drop of juice hit her bare leg and she scooped it up. Well, at least she wasn’t drooling quite yet, but why didn’t her village breed men like this? Ozuma was okay, but she knew too many of his bad habits and the one time they’d kissed had been disturbingly bland. Besides, she was fairly certain she could beat him in an arm wrestle. And Dunga… well yeah, that was never going to happen. Not even if she was blind drunk again. She needed to leave her village, she decided, crossing her legs at her ankles and swinging them gently. Her grandmother was making noises about her settling down and starting a family. The elders were muttering about her settling down and starting a family. Heck, even Ozuma and Dunga were doing it, though each for different reasons. And hadn’t that just put an awkward spin on the team dynamic. Dunga fancied her. Oh, the gods were laughing at her. She’d thought they’d genuinely had a dislike/hate relationship, but it turned out that that was his method of courting. How did he honestly think that his sexist comments would be a turn on for her? The whole episode had been alarming. Having a crush on Max once upon a time did not mean she was attracted to any blond within standing distance. So yes, leaving the village was her best option. Except, Mariam wasn’t sure on how to do that. She had planned to talk to Dickinson, but when Ozuma’s plan went into motion, she didn’t think the old man would be willing to help. What would she say: ‘Oh hey guys, your friends and the sport you loved is gone, but can I hang with you?’ Yeah, that was going to be a Big Fat No! Wow, now those were the kind of thighs she’d like to climb, Mariam mused, as Pale Boy squatted. They were as big as tree trunks and those arms would have no trouble holding her up. Why wasn’t he shirtless? Mariam! “Yes, oh almighty leader?” Popping a handful of jellied goodness into her mouth, she chewed slowly and wondered what it’d be like to sink her teeth into those muscles. What are the Russian team doing? “Uh…” Melting brain cells was not the answer that Ozuma wanted. “They’re just hanging around the gym.” Kai was literally hanging from a pole as he did chin-ups. Holy Spirits, she’d only ever seen that on TV during her missions. Damn sure Ozuma and Dunga never did that and they were ‘the strongest in the village’. Keep an eye on them. “Oh, I’m keeping two.” And hands off. Don’t let them catch you if you can. “Aw Zu-Zu, you ruin all my fun.” She wouldn’t mind getting her hands or her teeth on them. Particularly pale boys thighs. She bet she could leave a nice set of indents on his skin, the pallor of it would mark wonderfully. She sighed and sucked on the wooden stick. “So what is the plan? Divide and conquer?” Not at the moment, we need to see how dangerous everything is. Keep in contact. Resting her head back against the wall, she fanned her face. Gods, it was getting hot. When she looked back, she froze. Pale Boy was staring in her direction. A frown played over his face and he stepped forward to get a better look. Wonderful. Was he…? Oh yeah, he’d seen her. Time to go.

Mariam blew out a breath and grabbing her bag of sweets, she quickly tied it over her shoulder. Casting a look at him, she saluted and then threw herself off the building, catching a pole on the way down, she flipped herself around. Shifting her weight and anticipating the landing, she dropped to the ground with effortless grace. When she glanced back up, he was still standing there, a hand pressed against the glass. Grinning brightly, she blew him a kiss and trotted down an alleyway. He wouldn’t recognise her, but she couldn’t let Kai spot her, that would end all their fun and she wasn’t finished watching the B-Boys yet.

[lightningflash55]

Thoughts Dump on Season 7 Episodes 10-13

Shall we do this little read more thing here cause this is going to get long? Probably. Def open for talking about them if you decide to read all the way through! I’m up for some good MLP discussion.

A Royal Problem

Can I just start by saying how much I LOVE that we got an episode that actually has more in depth on the Princesses? I’ve been aching for one for forever, and honestly it feels like we’ve gotten more Luna over time cause she’s the one who’s had bigger problems that she’s needed to sort out. 

CELESTIA THOUGH, you cannot tell me she’s the boring blob that being the princess she is demands her to be all the time. This is why I need moreeeee. Give me Celestia’s wild side PLEASE.

On that note, I love how good she is at covering it up compared to Luna. Issues? Don’t fret my little ponies, they are being solved and I assure you, everything is alright. She’s just so GOOD at her role in being the one that takes everything just to make everyone else’s lives easier and brighter. Dang Celestia, how do you do it. Also the personality contrast between she and Luna is still great and it also shows their age/experience difference. 

The Twilight music box was a good example of how wonderfully odd this show can be and how, after 7 seasons, it continues to catch me off guard. I LOVE IT.

CELESTIA MAKES PANCAKES FOR EVERYPONY IN THE MORNING. I DIED. She is far too good and I highly appreciate the fact that she enjoys cooking, especially such silly yet comforting things?? Lmao

Not that I didn’t see it coming (I mean duh, but it’s just been awhile), but also holy heck is she a morning person. This is definitely where I connect to Luna more, and I love her snark.

Both the Princesses are just too good tbh, they both try so hard and do so much good in their own ways. LIKE HOW CONCERNED LUNA WAS ABOUT THE FUNDRAISER EVEN THOUGH IT WASN’T HER USUAL DUTY. She tried and immediately failed and felt super bad about it. All because she can’t hold a smile sjflksdjfjhdfj

Was telling my sister the whole time that nobody would ever, ever be as bold as Starlight Glimmer and that’s why this episode worked, and so I was glad Luna said nearly the exact same thing at the end. Applause for Starlight tbh.

Daybreaker’s design tho. On a more personal note, I was admiring her snarly face the whole time cause it’s definitely the closest design i’ve seen in the show so far that would work for Kelpie shape-wise. Putting that note aside if I ever try to do canon style stuff with my OC’s!

Luna’s dream was legitimately creepy for a show that seems to tone stuff down so much. There are like, magic battles and villains and stuff, but rarely does something strike me as dark? Maybe it’s just me. 

THAT’S IT FOR THIS ONE, I probs give it a 9/10

Not Asking For Trouble 

I don’t want to get too into this one, but for quite awhile Pinkie’s characterization has bothered me. Compared to the first few seasons, it seems recently she’s been over the top to the point of making others upset, but not even in a silly Pinkie way. It almost came across as less annoying others, but using her silly personality as a cover to let her freely say mean things? I’m not sure what happened there, but it sorta rubbed me the wrong way and this was just a good example of Pinkie being Pinkie. 

She went with everything the Yaks said and tried to understand them and fix the issue without being too much of a bother to them! That’s the Pinkie I know! I was honestly waiting for disppointment and was relieved when it didn’t happen. 

Not sure if this is an unpopular opinion or a lot of people thought this too, but what can I say, some episodes just seem more consistent than others

7/10?

Discordant Harmony

I FLIPPIN LOVE DISCORD

HE’S SUCH A BABY AND A PROTECTIVE GRUMP, DEFINITELY THE UNCARING OUTSIDE MUSHY INSIDE CHARACTER THAT I LOVE 

HE’S SOOOOOO ODD IN THE BEST WAY 

I reminded my little sister of this 50 times during the episode. I just feel the need to emphasize how much I love my dumb noodle horse dragon at all times. 

I don’t specifically like or dislike Fluttercord but you gotta admit there’s some good cheesy content here. THEY’RE CUTE FRIENDS AAAAA

Sometimes I wonder what the inside of Discord’s head looks like if he appears that crazy on the outside. Just, his mind must work in a very different way lol

THE SINGING GINSENG IS CUTE I WANT 100

I still marvel that the Discord we first saw is so taken by Fluttershy in such a legitimate way, but I am starting to get it. I suppose that his thing was always just chaos and messing with others and not necessarily being evil, and that’s probably what got me. He iiiiis kind of an attention hog so honestly, making friends that allow him to be his chaotic self around them is probably a fair compromise. Still, sometimes.

Explain to me though why he needed to go to 5 different stores to get things he could’ve just conjured up himself. Smh he likes to make things difficult and it pains me!! Stop being such a drama queen, but also don’t xD

Did u see the part where he hyperventilated into the bag but his neck expanded instead. Okay top wacky cartoon humor LOL

“Do something chaotic Fluttershy” “Oh no, I tipped over that cup!” MY SISTER AND I HAD A GOOD LAUGH AT THAT FLUTTERS PLS

There was probably an even mix of me expressing my love for discord and shaking my head actually. They go together hand in hadn though, no?

Hmm this one was also probably 9/10

The Perfect Pear

WHAT CAN I EVEN SAY ABOUT THIS EPISODE 

IT JUST GOT ME GOOD

IT WAS NICE TO GET BACKSTORY ON APPLEJACK’S PARENTS AND EQUAL PARTS HAPPY AND SAD

I MEAN THEY DEF AREN’T AROUND ANYMORE, DON’T THINK THERE WS ANY OTHER WAY TO READ THE IMPLICATIONS 

SO MANY GOOD FEELS

Just story and writing wise though this episode was so well done. There are always the funny episodes and everyone has their own favorite for reasons or because of their favorite characters, but sometimes some are just GOOD. Like classics, or everybody’s favorite, the ones that continue to stick out from the 100+ episodes the show has.

I’m rewatching these as I type this out and you know an episode’s good when you finish it and rewatch and things make more sense the second time around. Like how Grand Pear comes across as just a nice old pony the first time you watch it and if you rewatch it you’re like “Ohhh that look and being nice specifically towards Apple Bloom wasn’t just a random kind gesture”

Applejack’s over-reacting to everything: “PEAR JAM??? IN MY KITCHEN??” *DRAMATIC GASP*

“The food smells great Applejack i’ll brb for dinner” You mean the pancakes that are scattered all over the floor???

“And her cutie mark was a preserved jar, but pear butter don’t look too different from apple butter, so you know...” LMAO (true??)

The “the apple didn’t fall too far from the tree” moments got me, THESE KIDS TAKE AFTER THEIR PARENTS IN THE BEST WAYS. The sibling bonding was adorable in this ep.

Also I have to note, Pear Butter with her little bit of sassiness and curly ginger hair gave me Puck Connolly vibes the whole episode, which is always a good thing

DAMN THESE APPLES THAT STRIKE ME RIGHT IN THE FEELS EVERY TIME ONE OF THEM GOES INTO SONG

Def the part that got me the hardest right there. Like trying not to tear up, even

Ship goals tbh

What happened to them though honestly

GAH THE ENDING’S GIVING ME FEELS AGAIN I’LL END HERE 

10/10 EASILY