#no sweat dude!! I really only get on once or twice a week recently so I get it lmao

[elspethc22]

Let's Talk

Sciles Week Day 6: Talks we should have had

Pairing: Scott/Stiles

Word Count: 2621

The school year had finally ended, and Scott was more relieved to done with school than he ever had been before. He’d had nearly three months of freedom and the only thing on his to do list (other than work and whatever chores his mum asked him to do) was spending time with Stiles.

So that’s what he was doing – heading over to Stiles’ house to, most likely, wake his best friend up. For Stiles, summer meant sleeping in and doing absolutely nothing when he didn’t have to, which is exactly what he’d spent at least sixty percent of his summer doing. And since he knew Stiles wasn’t ‘helping out’ at the station today (also known as monitoring his dad’s eating habits up close, filing reports and trying to sneak looks at case files) chances were he would still be in bed even though it was nearly noon.

After knocking and getting no answer, Scott let himself in with the key Stiles had had made for him (he’d thought it only fair since he had one for the McCall house). Heading up the stairs, Scott made his way to Stiles’ bedroom, opening the door and walking right in.

‘Stiles. Stiles, dude. Wake up.’ Stiles stirred once, then stopped, still deep in sleep. Scott looked at him considering, then kicked off his shoes and pounced.

He landed right on Stiles, who shot up, eyes opening wide.

‘What – Scott? What the hell? Dude, what was that for? I was sleeping!’ Stiles asked, still looking around wildly, as if expecting an attack. When he found none, he flopped backwards, throwing an arm over his face. His face which was half-covered in lines from where it had been pressed into his pillow in his sleep.

‘Stiles, dude it’s already noon. We only have like two weeks left of summer, so come on, get up.’ Scott grabbed Stiles’ arm and dragged it off his face, giving him a little shove.

‘Do I have to?’ Stiles whined, and Scott laughed.

‘Yep. Unless you’d prefer… ’ Scott trailed off but lifted his hand to move his fingers against Stiles’ side, making him squirm.

‘No.’ Stiles protested, moving away.

‘Well those are you options – get up, and please shower, or I do it again.’ He wiggled his fingers threateningly, and Stiles lifted his head to glare at him.

‘I hate you.’ He said, sitting up again, keeping his eyes on Scott’s hand. He was the only person besides his dad who knew Stiles was ticklish, and unfortunately he wasn’t afraid to exploit that knowledge when he wanted to get his way.

‘You know you love me.’ Scott said, laughing and Scott thought he saw Stiles blush before he turned his head away, climbing over Scott and out of his bed.

‘Whatever. Give me ten minutes to shower.’ Scott watched Stiles head out of his room for the bathroom, and relaxed back on Stiles’ bed to wait. While he waited, he thought about Stiles reaction to his words. Why would Stiles blush from Scott telling saying Stiles loved him?

He tried to think of a reason, but while he thought, all that came to mind was a conversation with Stiles a few months ago. ‘This new-found heroism is making me very attracted to you.’ Then another conversation before that. ‘Am I not attractive to gay guys?’

He was deep in thought when Stiles came back in to his room, towel sitting low on his hips as he moved to his closet to find some clean clothes. The movement caught Scott’s attention and he propped himself up on his elbows, and found himself staring at Stiles’ back as Stiles’ words kept echoing in his mind.

‘Scott? Yo, Scotty!’ Stiles turned to look at him, letting the towel drop to the floor as he’d pulled a clean pair of boxers on underneath it, and was even now stepping into some clean sweats. Suddenly Stiles was clicking his fingers in Scott’s face and Scott blinked, leaning back.

‘What?’ He asked, blinking at Stiles who rolled his eyes.

‘Where’d you go man? I was asking you what you want to do today? Movie? Video games? More lacrosse practice?’

‘Oh, uh, I don’t know. Whatever you want.’ Stiles pulled a t-shirt over his head, narrowing his eyes at Scott as his head popped through. ‘What?’

‘Ok, what’s going on? First you were came in here, woke me up, all raring to go do something and now you’re spacing out on me and don’t care what we do? Seriously, what’s up?’

‘Do you like guys?’ Scott blurted out, then snapped his mouth shut, his eyes widening in surprise at his own words, wishing he could take them back. Stiles just stared at him, frozen in place. For nearly a minute, neither of them moved, processing the question that had just come out of Scott.

‘Um – ’

‘Oh my god, dude, forget I asked that. That was so not cool. I don’t even know – ’

‘Yes.’ Scott stopped his rambling apology, looking up at Stiles who was still standing in front of him.

‘Yes?’ Scott asked, and Stiles looked away, took a deep breath and then turned back, nodding.

‘Yes, I like guys. I mean, I still like girls, I wasn’t lying about that or anything, but… I like guys too.’ Stiles told Scott, his voice soft.

‘Wow.’ Scott could kick himself for only being able to come up with that, but his brain was apparently a little slow on the uptake in this conversation.

‘Yeah. Wow. Um… what made you ask that?’ Stiles asked, and Scott looked at him.

‘First – I’m so sorry I just like, asked you that like that, that really wasn’t cool of me. I was just… you blushed, earlier, when I said you know you love me and then that made me think, about why that would make you blush and then I remembered when you were asking me if you’re attractive to gay guys and then saying that my new heroism or whatever was making you attracted to me and we should make out and I was starting to think that maybe you weren’t joking and then I just… blurted the question out.’

Scott placed his hands in his lap, watching Stiles for a reaction as he explained his train of thought. Stiles stared at him for a moment, then sighed, running his hand through his newly grown out hair. Then he moved, sitting on the end of his bed, facing Scott.

‘It’s ok Scotty. I’m not upset you asked, I know you weren’t trying to be like… it just caught me off guard I guess. I wasn’t expecting it.’ Scott nodded, and was thankful his best friend wasn’t angry at him.

‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ He asked, his voice soft, and Stiles looked at him and shrugged.

‘I don’t know. It was never really like a plan to not tell you, I just… I was waiting for the right time and then, everything went crazy and I just… didn’t.’ Stiles told him, and Scott nodded even though he wished Stiles had felt he could tell him.

‘You know it doesn’t change anything, right? I mean, like, I don’t care one way or another.’ Scott tried to explain himself, trying to convey that he didn’t care who Stiles liked, they were still best friends, and Stiles just laughed.

‘I never thought it would, Scott. I know you, you’re like, the best person I know, you’d never care if I liked guys.’ Stiles told him, and Scott smiled, but there was still something nagging at him.

‘Do you… do you like me?’ Scott asked, then bit his lip when Stiles’ head shot up to look at him, eyes wide, mouth open in surprise.

‘I – I mean – of course I like you, dude, best friend forever, right?’ Stiles said, trying to bluff his way out of an answer by pretending to misunderstand the question and Scott knew.

‘I mean do you like me, Stiles.’ He repeated, changing his emphasis, moving a hand to Stiles’ wrist to keep him from standing and moving away. Stiles blinked once, twice, then looked down at Scott’s hand. When he looked back up, Scott’s heart hurt when he saw sadness in Stiles’ eyes.

‘Yes.’ Stiles breathed out. ‘I’m sorry, Scott, I – ’

Scott cut Stiles off by leaning forward and pressing his lips to Stiles’. Stiles let out a sound of surprise, but when Scott brought a hand up to cup the back of his head, tilted his own head to change the angle and make it easier, Stiles let his eyes shut and let himself sink into the kiss and enjoy it.

When Scott pulled back slowly, he let his hand slip down to settle at the base of Stiles’ neck, his thumb moving gently back and forth over Stiles’ skin just about his t-shirt.

‘Why did you do that?’ Stiles asked in a whisper. Scott took a moment before he answered, not wanting to say the wrong thing. He wasn’t completely sure why he’d done that – he couldn’t lie and say he’d wanted to do it for a while, it hadn’t occurred to him to try before today. But as soon as he’d thought about it, it was all he could think about.

‘Because I love you. And I have to be honest, I don’t know if I feel about you exactly how you feel about me, and I haven’t really thought about it before but I thought about kissing you and I just – I couldn’t notdo it.’ Scott said, hoping Stiles could make sense of his words. When Stiles didn’t say anything, he started to panic, thinking he’d just ruined things.

‘What about Allison?’ Scott was shocked that that was Stiles said next, but then he realised it made sense. This was completely out of the blue, and the last time they’d spoken about anything Scott had told him he was going to wait for her then get her back.

‘Honestly? When she broke up with me, it hurt, a lot. And I wanted to speak to her every day, try to change her mind, especially for the first few weeks. But recently?’ Scott paused, shrugged as he tried to explain it. ‘It still sucks, but now it more about how it all ended then the fact that it ended. Thinking about her, it doesn’t really hurt now, and I don’t think about her that much, not like I did right after we broke up or at the start of summer. I haven’t wanted to call her in weeks.’

Stiles was watching him closely, as if trying to pick out any lies. Scott just sat patiently, waiting for Stiles to react.

‘And what about me? I mean, you know I like you, I’m pretty sure I love you, and you just kissed me. Was it, like, a test?’

‘No, Stiles. I wouldn’t do that, especially not to you. I meant what I said, when I started thinking about it, it was like I hadto do it. And… I’m really glad I did. It was amazing. It felt like… it felt right.’

‘So you think you like guys too?’ Stiles questioned, and Scott shrugged.

‘I don’t know. It’s not really about you being a guy, it’s more about you being Stiles. Does that make sense?’ Stiles gave a small nod.

‘Kind of, I guess.’ Scott could tell Stiles didn’t really get it.

‘I mean, I know we’ve talked about girls we find attractive before, but I don’t… it usually takes me a while to really be attractedto someone. Usually, I really have to know and like someone before I feel like I want to do anything… physical. I think that’s why the idea of kissing you took so easily. Like, I know you’re an attractive person, but I never really thought about you or us in that way before, but then when I did…’ He tried to explain, knowing he sounded awkward. He’d never tried to put it into words before.

‘But what about Allison? You were like, zero to sixty with her.’ Stiles said, and Scott nodded his understanding. That had been a big surprise to him, and he’d been thinking about it a lot since they broke up.

‘I think that had more to do with the wolf. It was really weird because like, I’ve never had that instant attraction to anyone before so I didn’t recognise it at first, and then at first I thought it was cause I’d never met the right person. But I kept having these feelings like I was fighting with myself – there were times where all I wanted to do was touch her and kiss her but then I’d stop and think well, let’s just get to know her first. And obviously, then I did get to know her, and… but I think those first few weeks was not all me.’

Stiles looked at him, cocked his head.

‘So you’re saying the wolf had the hots for Allison first?’ He asked, and Scott rolled his eyes but nodded. ‘Ok. Ok, that sort of makes sense. It’s a little weird, but then, what isn’t in our lives nowadays?’

Scott laughed in agreement, and Stiles smiled.

‘What does this mean then? For us?’ Stiles asked, and Scott smiled.

‘It means… I think, I want to try this. If you do.’ Scott told him, and he could hear the hope in his voice.

‘What if it doesn’t work?’ Stiles asked, and Scott heard, and understood, the fear.

‘What if it does?’ Scott countered, and Stiles smiled fondly at the typical optimism. ‘I think we need to promise each other, if we decide to do this, that our friendship comes first. If anything goes wrong or it just doesn’t work, we can take some time, but we’re always friends.’

‘Do you think that can work?’ Stiles asked.

‘I think we’re Scott and Stiles – ask anyone, if we decide we want to do something, we’ll do it no matter how many people tell us not to, or that we can’t.’ Stiles rolled his eyes at the reminder of the many, many times they’d been told their ideas were crazy or impossible or just plain not allowed (or illegal). But it was true – anything that they’d really want to do, they’d found a way and they’d done it. And then when necessary (at least fifty percent of the time) they’d found a way back out of whatever situation they ended up in.

‘Ok.’ Stiles said, nodding. ‘Ok. We promise that no matter what happens, we’re friends first and always.’ He held out his hand, fingers curled except his pinky. Scott looked down at it, then up at Stiles and smiled.

The first time they’d made a promise to one another, Scott had held out his pinky to a very confused Stiles. When he explained what he knew about pinky swears and how they couldn’t be broken, Stiles had nodded enthusiastically and stuck his own out to complete the process. Since then, every important promise they’d made had been sealed with a pinky promise.

Scott moved his hand off Stiles’ wrist and looped his pinky around Stiles’.

‘I, Scott McCall, pinky promise that no matter what happens between Stiles Stilinski and I in our romantic relationship we will be friends first and always.’ Stiles smiled at the words romantic relationship.

‘I, Stiles Stilinski, pinky promise that no matter what happens between Scott McCall and I in our romantic relationship we will be friends first and always.’ They grinned at each other, and then Scott used the hand still on the back of Stiles’ neck to reel him in for another kiss.

[jesuschrististheway]

Unsaid Things

Requested by: @ai-kizu-rp

Tmnt type:2014-2016

Prompt: Mikey and Raph’s crush(reader) get super close, and Raph ends up getting really jealous. He tries to get closer to you, but brutally fails. After he flips out, you realize you had been kinda insensitive, and you try getting closer to him.

BTW, you call Mikey honey, but it’s just like a friendly honey, kind of like a nurturing honey

Includes: romance, anger, sadness, and BRUTAL rejection

Warning: um idk Raph yells at you once(not trying to scare you or anything, just was really emotionally broken). The word cringe is in there(i know it’s not bad, but I just don’t like the word, except there is no other word for it. I don’t know what it is, I just don’t like it.

(Y/N)=your name

I think there is some mistakes, and maybe the story is poorly set up, and I’m really sorry. I tried my best! Hope you enjoy it!

It had been about a year since you met the turtles, and you were over there quite often. Your stays mostly consisted of you meditating, studying for your college exams, and just hanging out watching tv with the turtles.

You were showing Donnie how to make waffles, while frequently humming metal songs to yourself. Raph was at the kitchen counter when this happened, glancing up at you and cutely smiling to himself thinking you were awesome/adorable. He had kind of warmed up to you after a little while. Mikey struts in with his hands up in the air hollering, “ WHAT’S UP ANGELCAKES!!” He suddenly stops, and wonders what the little jail cell looking things you were cooking were. “Huh, what are these?” He reaches out to see what they were, only to burn his hand after putting it straight on the waffle maker. “HOLY FLUFFBUCKETS!! (softer voice) they just looked kinda yummy..” He bit his lip while holding his hand, while you were bending over laughing like a spray bottle.

“Oh, Mikey, honey... EECH!!!! EECH!!!!! Haha, those are waffles, here honey let me get you some ice.” you say in a nurturing way to Mikey.

Raph giggles to himself at your laugh, and slightly cringes at the fact that you called Mikey “honey”. He tries to brush it off.

You all cool down and then you sit down next to him on the couch while he’s icing his hand. “ Oh no, angelcakes, my hand is on fire right now, and I can’t play my video game. Can you play it for me? You agree and then Mikey directs you on how to play. You guys laugh together, and you soon start to get the hang of it. “YES!!!! ANGELCAKES IS ON FIYA RIGHT NOW!!!”

Raph growls slightly and then goes off to lift his weights.

You and Mikey start getting closer and Raph is getting more upset, because at the same time he starts developing major feelings for you. He just can’t help but stare at you with the excitement you have in your eyes. Mikey starts teaching you how to break dance, and he wants to teach you how to rap also. He will soon find out that you already know how to rap and can easily rival him. Raph overhears the conversation about how you already know how to rap after Mikey asks to teach you. He listens in and hears you start popping off with ya rap skills. He walks out from the dojo, and says “ wow, uh, er didn’t know ya could pop off like that.” He says blushing. “Maybe ya could teach me sometime...” You smile a little and say “ yeah, maybe..” and go back to laughing with Mikey. He gets just a crushed look on his face after seeing you completely ignore him. He walks to his room and turns on his metal/rock music, and slowly starts to question himself.

-of course, why would she like you, you’re just a big, mean, aggressive and ugly turtle. Of course she wouldn’t care about you, you act like ya don’t care about anyone else- Raph thought, even though he knew he cared deeply about his family and would do anything for them.

A few weeks later, Mikey goes out to go and hang out at your apartment. “ going to (Y/N)’s!” You and Mikey are inseparable lately and Raph is over it. Raph is enraged at the thought of Mikey going to your apartment, especially with how close you guys have been. He growls and struts angrily over to the weight rack and starts benching like a million pounds, slowly adding more every couple minutes. Raph tries to talk to Splinter, and Splinter is telling him that he can’t force someone to like him, and he’ll just have to keep trying. So he does, constantly. All you do is just tell him that you’re busy, or ya hangin out with Mikey. You’ve only hung out with him twice in the past few months. 

However, this time was the last straw. Mikey points out your necklace with a cross on it, and asks about it. You tell him you wear it because you love Jesus and owe your life to him and God. You tell him all about it, and he says he wants to get into it. This was a time when you guys got closer than ever. Although Raph loves that you love God, you guys getting even closer is upsetting Raph(even though it’s a great thing to get closer about), and he can’t stop from stomping angrily away. You and Mikey kind of questioned it, but you figured it was just Raph being Raph. You soon hear yelling between him and Leo, while Splinter is trying to defuse the situation. It’s not working. This goes on for several minutes and you are surprised you didn’t hear any crashes. “Huh, wow.. that’s surprising. Didn’t hear anyone being smashed against the wall.” You joked with Mikey. You continue bonding, and then decide to play candy crush.

Raph angrily walks out, and just stops, and looks into your eyes. “Hey (Y/N), uh can I talk to ya real quick. Or maybe we can at least hang out?” You stare into his deep, stunning eyes, seeing that he really needs someone to talk to, and...

“eh, sorry, can’t. Playing candy crush with Mikey. You’re welcome to join though.” You smiled sweetly. Although he loved seeing you smile, this feeling was overpowered by rage. His soul had just been chewed up and spit out, and he trudges into the dojo. “Yup, always with Mikey.” He mumbled in his gruff voice. He had been expecting this, but he never truly thought that you would say no that easily with that look on his face. You see his face, and hear his mumble, and you are curious. Your mind goes back to the times when he invited you to hang out. You remember seeing that same look on his face, and your heart just breaks. Had you truly treated him like that? Did you truly care that little for him? You decide that your answer is no.

You walk up there cautiously, and you hear the punching bag being pummeled. You also hear frequent sniffles. You go in.

When you see him, all you can see are his bulging muscles. Sweat dripping off of them from his fight earlier and his current workout. You do the Radio Rebel thing.

  “Uh, hey Raph, I’m really sorry. What did you need to talk about?”

ignores

“Um, Raph, I’m here now. You can talk to me.”

He looks at you, and then continues punching the punching bag.

“Raphael! (softer voice)...dude...please...talk to me.”

His eyes quickly narrow at the use of his full name. “DON’T SAY I CAN TALK TO YOU!”

He quickly walks up to you, his feet making the ground shake a tad. You are stunned by how much he towers over you. Girl, how had you never noticed this before?

(softer voice)” I’ve been trying to talk to you, hang with you, get to know you. But all you ever do is ignore me.” His eyes are watering greatly. 

Although he had just yelled at you, you knew his only intentions with you were kind. In fact, even though he is mean to his brothers, you know that deep down in his heart, he cares. All he’s ever done is care about you. You deeply admire this trait about him. 

-He likes you. He definitely likes you. I can feel it,- you thought.- I guess my recent actions and thoughts indicate that... I like him too. All he’s ever done is care, and I’ve all I’ve ever shown is that I’m insensitive.-

You take your hands, and tilt his face downwards. You see his big green eyes, and the pain behind them.  You wrap your arms around him, and pull yourself close to his plastron. “I’m so sorry,” you whisper, tears forming in your eyes, “I was so insensitive, and rude. You were always so kind, and patient.” You grab a nearby stool(convenient, right?), and you set it down in front of him. You’re still not tall enough, and he thinks this is cute. You give him a deep, passionate kiss. 

Man, you were both blushing hard.

Although he had already been holding tons of tears back, even more happy ones started to spill out. He picks you up by the waist, and spins you around.

“nah, it’s alright angelcakes. Sorry i got so jealous.” 

Apparently, it sounds great when he says it, too.

He sets you down. You walk over to a little corner, and sit down. You pat the ground and say “So, uh, what do you want to talk about?”

[thetriggeredhappy]

°68 napoleon complex? -🦂

this is so goddamn sappy and sad dude. (warnings for blood, severe injury, and major character death)

#68. A Hoarse Whisper “Kiss Me”.

Engie frantically scribbled down a series of numbers, picking up the compass for the sixth time in a minute to squint at it again before putting it down on the map, visibly frazzled.

“I—I think you’ll end up somewhere in one of the chambers at... at Suijin, I think. Kong King is out of range,” he said, glancing over at Spy fretfully.

“Japan,” Spy mused, voice weak but still somehow managing to be snarky. “Unfortunate that I haven’t been brushing up on anything besides my Mandarin for the past several weeks.”

A mission had gone awry. The Engineer was meeting with some potential business partners of their employer who wanted to talk to him personally about his inventions, to ensure that he was indeed as intelligent as they’d heard. Spy was sent along as backup and to help translate during business proceedings. And things had gone off largely without a hitch, and they’d been returning to their hotel, when suddenly Spy noticed a dot of light flickering against the wall, a mere half-step behind the Engineer and closing.

He’d shoved him into cover in an instant, and received a bullet to the lower abdomen for the trouble. They’d gotten through the remaining two blocks to their hotel, mostly through the use of Spy’s cloaking watch quickly secured to the Engineer’s wrist and Spy ducking and moving expertly through cover. Once in their hotel room, Spy had all but collapsed, managing to sit himself in the bathroom and fumbling fruitlessly with the first aid kit in trembling hands for the two minutes it took Engie to pull their blinds shut and shoot off a call to Miss Pauling about the situation.

Spy had lost a lot of blood, and Engie couldn’t seem to stop the bleeding. He’d managed to fish out the bullet, managed to figure out what all had been hit. Clearly, several very important things, because Spy just kept getting weaker and weaker, bleeding out there at the edge of the bathtub, only barely fighting shock as it tried to set in. It occurred to Engie that he outright might not make it, and he’d quickly busted out a series of maps, desperately trying to figure out if the two of them were in range of any of their outpost bases, whether he would be able to rely on Respawn or not.

He didn’t have exact numbers, not on him. If he was in his workshop, he’d be able to figure it out. But he was half-remembering numbers—was it an 18 or a 19?—and his hands kept shaking as he handled the compass, triangulating. And the result seemed to be a hearty maybe. Maybe Spy would Respawn and be alright, if admittedly probably in for a bit of trouble in regards to having a way to get back to their base proper. Or maybe not.

The Engineer moved to pull his glove back on shakily, pulling off his goggles and fixing Spy with a look. Spy had been moved to lie in the bathtub itself, mostly for the sake of cleaning up mess.

The machines would absolutely try to pick up Spy’s dead body. That wasn’t the question. The question would be whether he would show back up alive somewhere.

“You tore up my suit for nothing,” Spy complained mildly, blinking at him slowly.

The gauze on his side had long soaked through. His suit was ruined anyway. Sitting down and trying to get comfortable on the tile floor next to Spy, Engineer tried to get the voice to taunt him back, make fun, make light of the situation. But he couldn’t.

Spy just looked at him, expression fairly calm. “I was hoping I wouldn’t be awake for my funeral,” he admitted, voice just a rasp. “That it would be quick and I would not see it coming.”

“You might make it,” Engie protested weakly.

Spy snorted. A brief silence fell between them, words unsaid, words running out of time to be said, but Engie wasn’t sure how fast. “Laborer,” Spy said suddenly. “Take my mask off.”

Engie blanched. “What? No, I can’t,” he protested.

“You can and you will,” Spy replied, deadly serious. “I want you to have seen what I look like. Even if you don’t remember me without my mask, I at least want someone who might have a chance at remembering.”

“You’re not thinkin’ straight, Spy, you’ve lost a lot of blood, and anyways if you don’t die and I’ve seen you—“

“If I don’t die, I’ll have nothing to worry about,” Spy snapped. “If I don’t die, I might as well spend my last moments here drinking a margarita and watching reality television. But we are not preparing for that, because there is nothing to prepare. Instead I would like to prepare for what will happen if I do die. Now take off my mask.”

Engie hesitated for another moment before he did so.

He moved carefully, working hard not to yank or hurt Spy in any way, gently guiding the fabric off of him. When it was finally free, he was only slightly surprised. Fewer scars on his face than expected, a smattering of stubble, clearly cleaned up fairly recently but not so recently as to be called properly near. His hair was going grey in places, a dark brown, and while it apparently was usually straightened and slicked back against his head it was starting to spring free of the gel thanks, presumably, to sweat and the mask being removed, and it would appear that it was naturally quite curly.

“I apologize,” Spy said muzzly, eyes dropping further. “I promise I would have cleaned up had I known there would be a special occasion to do so. Forgive me.”

“It’s fine,” Engie assured, laughing lightly, working hard to keep it a laugh and not a hiccup or a sob. “You’re still gorgeous.”

Spy rolled his eyes lightly, looking away, even as a grin ticked at his mouth. “Mercenary the majority of your life, and you’re still a terrible liar,” he managed, throat rough.

“You are,” Engie insisted, reaching forward to cup at his face and turn him to look forward again. “Really.”

Spy hummed, tilting some mild amount into the hand, looking him over slowly. “If I do not Respawn, I will need you to pass along an amount of information,” he started in even though his voice clearly hurt. “There is a locked suitcase in the closet of my room with the passcode carved into the underside of my desk in my false room.”

“False room?” Engie repeaed.

“Oui. When the Sniper decided he would not be using his room in the base, I made a deal with him that I could have it. The room with my nameplate is not where I actually sleep. There is a false room to make it appear that I do, but the back of the wardrobe pops free and you can go through into the other room. That is where I actually sleep, and that is where the suitcase is.”

Engie nodded, blinking at this new information.

“In the suitcase are several letters I’ve prepared in the event of my death.” A muscle in his jaw went tight. “It is up to your discretion whether you open your own. All it contains is several pictures of me without my mask and a short note telling you what I will tell you in a moment regardless. They have varying importance, but make sure that Scout recieves his. That is the most important envelope there.”

He nodded again, and Spy cleared his throat.

“And...” Spy paused for a moment. When he laughed, it was weak. “It just occurred to me that this is selfish of me, to be saying this to you.” When he looked up at Engie, his eyes, usually so sharp and alert, seemed to be having trouble focusing. “Damn you, Conagher. You made me care about that sort of thing.”

Engie’s laugh really was more of a sob this time. He took Spy’s hand in his own. “I didn’t make you do a single thing you didn’t already wanna do, Spy,” he said, and Spy managed a smile. “Go on. What is it?”

Spy blinked once or twice to reorient himself. “I... I am in love with you,” Spy said, and looked up at him again.

His lungs felt entirely empty of air.

“I have been for several months now,” Spy continued to fill the silence. “The idea was that I would continue to win you over for some time before I told you. However long that took. I understand that sometimes I can be... difficult. And... I don’t know, I really don’t know. But I thought you deserved to know.”

“You’re serious?” Engie asked, cupping his cheek again, thumb running over a scar there. “You’re not just sayin’ this to... to, hell if I know, make me feel better?”

“How would that make you feel better?” Spy reasoned with a huff. “I am dying.”

“True,” Engie acquiesced. A brief silence fell between them, and Engie desperately wanted the silence to go away again, because all of a sudden he could hear Spy’s breathing, hollow and shaking and rattling in his chest, and he didn’t want to. But he couldn’t think of anything to say.

“May I make one more request of you?” Spy asked, voice barely a whisper now.

“Of course,” Engie said, squeezing his hand.

“Kiss me?” he asked hoarsely, voice so horribly quiet, and he did. Of course he did. How could he not?

Spy’s lips were dry, his movements slow and unbalanced, but Engie didn’t, couldn’t complain. All he could do was try to memorize the feeling of Spy, here with him, his presence. All he could do was pray.

Engie wasn’t a praying man. A father and a grandfather before him constantly playing god rather than raising him would do that to a person. But he wracked his brain to try to remember his Hail Marys, any prayer that he could get any grip on, anything at all that might persuade some kind of god—hopefully a kinder one than his lineage—to spare Spy just then.

When he pulled back again, Spy’s eyes were damp, and his chest was moving in jerky motions rather than a smooth up-and-down. “Thank you,” he managed. Then he tried to murmur something in French, furrowed his eyebrows as he tried to figure out how to say it in English, and in that moment, he watched Spy finally black out.

He shifted, rested his cheek on Spy’s hand, moved his free hand to check for a pulse. For about twenty seconds, it was weak, but it was still there. For ten of those seconds, he just waited. In the final ten, he was hit with the horrible realization that he hadn’t said it back.

“Oh god,” he gasped, reached up to hold Spy’s face, a burn at his tear ducts. “Oh god, Spy, I love you too. Oh god, can you hear me? Spy? Please, c’mon!”

He got no response, but a few seconds later, he felt Spy’s pulse finally stop, his pinky of his human hand resting over his pulse point.

For ten seconds, it was just him and a body, and then it was whisked away.

He had to get up, because he had a call to expect from Miss Pauling. Some time fairly shortly she’d promised to have answers on who might be targeting him, whether he was safe to get a taxi to the airport to flee back to America. He would have hours, maybe, until police arrived at the hotel to ask several very uncomfortable questions, and they would likely not be deterred for long about the fact that the blood trail had up and disappeared.

So he sat by the phone, trying to collect himself. His breath wouldn’t stop heaving, the tears wouldn’t stop flowing. Very briefly, he became convinced that he was going to be sick, but he couldn’t go back into that bathroom again, couldn’t stare at the empty bathtub.

The phone rang, and he picked it up before it was even halfway through the first ring, croaking a greeting.

“I could hear you,” came a purr through the telephone, and then a familiar snorting laugh, and then Engie cried some more, feeling very much like he was about to collapse. “By the way, you were incorrect. I am in Hong Kong, not Japan. You may need to brush up on those math degrees of yours, mon petit cher.”

“Maybe,” he agreed, wiping at his eyes self-consciously, as if Spy could see him. “Maybe.”

[bigskydreaming]

Thank you for the boosting and the donation! Got the rest of the rent there now, which let me sit down and whip out my first commission, yay! Someone who said they didn’t need to be credited asked me for 2K about the idea of “what do I think Dick’s opinion would have been of the Felipe Garzonas situation at the time.”

Which is a fucking awesome premise, and not one I’ve spent a lot of time thinking on, but it hit me right away....like, you know I’m always talking about how Jason and Dick have a lot more in common than most people think, IMO, and also that Dick isn’t nearly as incapable of understanding the impulse to kill as he’s normally assumed to be.....but thinking about Jason as Robin and whose side Dick would fall on that, if he’d been asked to weigh in....and given that he was still on iffy terms with Bruce and thus probably more inclined to side with the kid in his literal shoes, who he could remember being in certain ways, at certain times...

It made my mind jump straight to Robin: Year One, and how when Bruce fired Dick as Robin that first time, after the Two-Face incident, he kinda pinned the judge’s death on Dick, like as a direct result of Dick’s choice there...and this definitely affected Dick throughout the entire rest of the mini...which all culminated in him being trained at Shrike’s Vengeance Academy and literally holding a gun on Two-Face himself, having been ordered to kill him by Shrike, and wanting to...because of how Two-Face had so recently hurt him, and in Dick’s eyes...also been the direct result of his fallout with Bruce, the thing that made Bruce run away.

And so with all that in mind, here’s what I came up with. It’s open-ended, because my commissioner said they would rather me leave it unfinished if I felt there were more places I could take it, if other people wanted to commission further additions to it or I wanted to finish it myself later when I had time.....so here’s 2,695 words of Dick and Robin!Jason in the week immediately following  the Garzonas case. I got in a groove with it so went over the commission mark, lol, (I don’t charge extra for that, FYI, lol) but also I wanted to make sure I left it in at least a somewhat place for a break, rather than just in the middle of a thought.

This is definitely something I’d come back to on my own, just to finish it, no further commissions required, but like.....being able to use the commission to pay towards food or rent instead of waiting until I have the time and energy to bang out actual fic, like...definitely would make that a sooner rather than later thing, not gonna lie. LOL. I mean hey, I wrote this in the last hour. 

(Which also means its unbeta-ed, but they said that was okay and I think it still reads pretty cleanly as is). Anyway!

********

UNTITLED FOR NOW

The way Jason Todd warily eyed the device in his hand, one might think it was an instrument of great and terrible destructive power, rather than just…his own personal cell-phone.

To be fair, he was Robin, and pretty used to the idea that even the most unlikely of things could be used for evil in Gotham. It could’ve been stolen and replaced at some point by a henchperson of Mr. Freeze, and using it could unleash some kind of cryogenic freeze ray that would turn him into a Robinsicle. Mad Hatter could be up to shit again, and dialing the phone at this very minute might mean syncing it up with a remote radio signal that would override his natural brainwaves and turn him into Tetch’s mindless minion of like…doom and stuff. Or…or…

Or sometimes, even in Gotham a phone is just a phone, and Freud is still a dumbass. And neither of the above possibilities had anything to do with why Jason was being a giant freaking pansy about entering the last digit of the phone number he would never ever admit to having had memorized for months now.

Nightwing had said to call if he ever needed to talk. He wouldn’t have done that if he didn’t actually want Jason to call, right? Like, its not as if Jason had remotely been expecting him to do that, so its not the sort of thing someone did just because it was ‘expected’ or shit. He was pretty sure. Rich people manners were weird though. Had to factor that in.

But Nightwing had also even made a point to say not talking to people about stuff was Bruce’s problem and that Jason shouldn’t let it be his problem too, and even though months ago Jason had been a starry-eyed dumbass who was totally drunk on the Bruce is the Bestest Kool-Aid or whatever, ‘Wing had definitely known what he was talking about there. So maybe he’d get it, and having this conversation with him wouldn’t be. Like. The actual worst idea in the history of ever.

Deductive logic said that Jason was getting worked up over nothing and there was no rational reason for him to be this nervous about dialing a fucking phone number. And he’d gotten pretty good at the whole deduction shit, given all the work he and Bruce had put into training his mind to view the world through entirely new paradigms, so Jason was pretty sure his math on that checked out. But on the other hand, Bruce was a hypocritical asshat that Jason was currently not speaking to, so what the fuck did he know about anything?

Aaaaand he was back to square one. Well damn. This was excellent. Very productive. Good hustle out there, Jay.

Sighing gustily, Jason flopped back on his bed, staring up at the ceiling and trying to pretend he hadn’t gotten used to how luxurious and cushion-y his ridiculously expensive mattress was. He’d gotten soft, he told himself. Then he scoffed at the idea that the past year and a half of rigorous Robin training and patrols had made him less tough than the pipsqueak he’d been back when living on the street, getting his ass kicked by bigger and badder on the regular. That hadn’t been hardness, that had been bravado.

But it had gotten him this far in life, so maybe there was something to be said for it after all?

Ugh. Decisions were hard. He objected on principle. He also really wanted to understand why he was this nervous…if he could literally fill the guy’s shoes and kick supervillain ass as Robin, what freaking sense did it make that he couldn’t even call him up on the phone?

Maybe you just know better than to ask him questions you don’t really want to hear his answer to, a smug voice said in the back of his mind. It sounded suspiciously like Willis Todd, which was all kinds of weird and fucked up, cuz Jason was damn sure his abusive a-hole of a deadbeat dad had never said anything that insightful in his life.

Which meant it was his own screwed up subconscious - presenting in the voice of his not so dearly departed douchebag dad, no less - that had Jason reacting out of spite, entering the last number and hitting Talk, all while totally on autopilot. Because apparently we’re all making healthy life choices in this Chili’s tonight, Jason snickered somewhat hysterically while his phone rang once, twice, three times.

Ugh. Was he always this fucked up in the head and he just never noticed, or was it a side effect of running around rooftops in a cape. Inquiring minds wanted to know.

“Hello?” Someone said then, answering on the fourth ring. Jason sat bolt upright, his nervous humor vanishing as quickly and unexpectedly as it’d hijacked him in the first place. For all that he’d only actually interacted with the older man a few times, his voice was instantly recognizable. As was his slight confusion.

Right. Because why would Nightwing have the untraceable number of the latest burner phone Bruce had given Jason, when the ever paranoid Bat had him swapping out phones every freaking week? Duh, Jay.

“Uh, its me,” Jason said hastily, as if he could somehow catch up to and overtake the epically long ten second silence he let lapse before his mouth started making words again. “Jason?”

“Jaybird! Hey! What’s going on?” The older vigilante’s tone instantly morphed into one of surprised delight, so apparent even across the phone that Jason actually pulled it away from his ear and stared at it, as if that could explain Nightwing’s inexplicable giddiness. He’d literally only met the dude three times. Give or take a concussion he was forgetting about maybe? Weird.

Then again, the older man was a circus performer from birth. Might just be good at faking being super excited to hear from people? Whatever. Still weird.

“Uh, you said to call if I was ever having, I dunno, issues with Bruce I guess? So I kinda had a question? I mean, if you’re not busy or anything.”

Just one question? Willis’ voice asked snidely, echoing in time with the rapid tripartite beat of Jason’s heart. Since apparently everything Jason said was trying to come out with a question mark attached to the end of it at the moment. Ugh, fuck you, subconscious, Jason thought forcefully, even as he ransacked the recesses of his mind for that bravado he was thinking about earlier. It had to be in here somewhere…

“No worries dude, I’ve got time. Hit me!” Nightwing said cheerfully. His lighthearted cadences were so at odds with the sweat suddenly breaking out on Jason’s forehead, the younger teen couldn’t help but wince in anticipation of its inevitable change once he got his actual question out. This was a bad idea, he decided, way too fucking late for it to make a difference. He had a hunch Nightwing wouldn’t be content to ‘just forget it’ or whatever even if Jason chickened out now.

So he took a deep breath, shrugged and did what Jason Todd did best. Said fuck it, put pedal to the metal, and drove at full speed for the metaphorical police barricade that was his way of picturing all the things telling him He Should Definitely Just Not.

“Do you think I’m someone who could kill somebody in like, cold blood?”

Aaaaand there went the lightheartedness. Well, he’d definitely stone cold killed that, Jason thought grimly into the silence that followed.

“Huh,” Nightwing said at last. “You’re gonna have to give me a second to switch gears here, Jay. I was kinda expecting something along the lines of ‘how do I avoid Bruce giving me the safe sex talk.’”

Jason flushed and nodded jerkily, not that the older man could see it. Still, it’d been enough of a workout just getting to this point. He didn’t trust what might come out of his mouth next if he kept trying to force it. Thankfully Nightwing didn’t make him wait too long before continuing.

“I think anyone’s capable of killing somebody in the right circumstances,” Jason’s predecessor began carefully. Except that was not remotely what he wanted to hear. Or helpful.

“I’m not looking for platitudes,” Jason grit out, not angry at the other vigilante so much as the whole fucked up mess and his inability to think about anything else at this point. “It’s just a simple fucking question. You’ve met me, do you think like, I’d be capable of just killing somebody or not.”

“I’m not offering platitudes,” Nightwing continued calmly, as if he wasn’t phased by the younger boy’s interruption or sudden aggression at all. “And its not a simple question at all. Speaking from experience, most people wouldn’t think of an eight year old as a cold-blooded killer, but that’s what I could have been if Bruce hadn’t stopped me from killing my parents’ murderer when I first tracked him down. And yet that’s still totally different from when I held a gun on Two-Face barely a couple years later, about to shoot him because somebody else told me to, and because I wanted to hurt him like he’d hurt me. Wouldn’t you agree those are two different situations and two different ‘kinds’ of cold-blooded killer? Context is kinda a big deal here.”

Huh. First off…what the fuck? Jason stared blankly up at the ceiling, trying to hurry up the processing functions of his brain because, again, what the fuck? He was like ninety nine percent positive none of that had been in the Dick Grayson Is The Greatest and Here Are All The Reasons Why brochure he’d had read to him every time someone new found out he was Wayne’s newest stray, and like. Uh. Yeah, that part would have definitely stood out. Because once more, with feeling:

“What the fuck?”

Oops. That hadn’t been supposed to be out loud. Bad mouth. Bad.

Nightwing just did a weird kinda half laugh half sigh combo. Rueful, Jason would describe it, if he were describing it to someone else, which it kind of felt like he was, relaying the conversation to himself now that it’d taken a hard right turn into the surreal.

“Blindsided you with that, huh? Sorry, should’ve figured neither of those are the kinda stories Bruce would want to share with you. Then again, I don’t really have any idea what Bruce has told you about me.”

“Not much,” Jason admitted. Which was a major source of irritation, if he was being honest. The much sung praises of Dick Grayson came from literally everyone he met except for Bruce. Who usually just got a pinched expression whenever Jason brought him up, and a rapid subject change that was not nearly as subtle as Bruce seemed to think it was.

“Yeah, that sounds about right,” Nightwing sighed. “I hope you haven’t put too much stock in anything else you’ve heard about me then. I’ll admit to a bad habit of enjoying my mystique, so secondhand hearsay tends to lose my best nuances.”

Despite himself, Jason’s lips curved up and he let out a rueful huff of his own. “I mean, this definitely isn’t where I saw this conversation going.”

The older man chuckled. “Thought I was going to just assume the worst and chuck the book at you?”

“Well. Yeah.” Jason shrugged, even though he knew it wouldn’t come across. “Bruce did.”

Nightwing heaved an exasperated breath. “Yeah, that’s kinda the thing about B. Sometimes, he’s great. Other times, he’s an ass. Its kinda an either or thing. He’s never really mastered the art of finding a midpoint between two extremes. Mostly because he’s never seen the point of aiming for middle ground.”

“Well its not like he’s ever really had to,” Jason griped. It just slipped out before he could stop it, leaving him feeling guilty for bad-mouthing B when he wasn’t around to defend himself. Especially since he knew Nightwing wasn’t the guy’s biggest fan these days. But he couldn’t deny it also felt good, in a way.

To his surprise, Nightwing just laughed. And not even in a malicious, spiteful kind of way, but almost relieved.

“God, thank you. You’d think that ‘hey, so my billionaire guardian kinda has entitlement issues’ would be a water is wet kind of revelation, but try saying something like that to pretty much anyone else…”

“And they look at you like you’re an ungrateful asshole?” Jason finished for him. Not that he’d ever actually tried saying that to anyone before, though he’d definitely thought it a time or two. But he could all too easily imagine the reactions he’d get, which was pretty much why he’d never gone so far as to speak the words.

“Yup,” Nightwing drawled, dragging out the p and popping it with emphasis. “And its not about being grateful or not, its just…there are some parts of everyone that just aren’t up for grabs, for other people to weigh in on or take charge of, you know? And a lot of people just don’t get that…because nobody’s ever tried it with them, or had to deal with expectations that…overstep, let’s call it?”

“Is that why you left?”

Jason winced the second it left his mouth. Too far. Definitely way too far, but he’d just gotten unexpectedly comfortable with the back and forth, and now he’d done the overstepping thing himself and was left with just dead air.

But ten seconds of heavy silence stretched into twenty, and went no further, as Nightwing sighed into his side of the phone again.

“The spiteful part of me wants to say it was more of a push than me just up and leaving,” he laughed again, but this time with unmistakable bitterness. “But even while that’s true, its not really the right answer to your question, because no matter how much of a clusterfuck that was at the time, its not…I mean, I knew at the time how to fix it. Where and how I needed to cave in order to make up with him and let things get back not quite to normal, but at least close enough.”

The pause wasn’t as heavy or tense this time, as Jason could almost sense the older man gathering his thoughts, trying to put them into words. He bit his lip rather than risk any more unexpected utterances escaping. This might not have been where he’d thought his phone call would lead, but now that he was here, hearing the answers to questions he’d wanted to ask for over a year and finding them almost comfortably familiar, he wasn’t going to risk distracting Nightwing or shutting him up for well. Anything.

“But it would have meant me caving. Settling in ways that I just…couldn’t. So in a way, yeah, I did leave, it was still my choice. And all of that was definitely a big part of it. I love Bruce, I do. I just couldn’t live with him anymore. Not without feeling like I had to give up my own autonomy and just be what he wanted. Or what he’d expected me to grow up to be, back when he first took me in. And as grateful as I am to him for that, I can’t honestly say I would have stuck around back then if I knew that was the price tag attached. I’m not…I don’t do well with people trying to force me to stick to one place, one thing. I was born on the road, you know? When I was a kid, I expected to spend the rest of my life living like that. Home was people. Not places. And so Gotham…its never fit me quite right, the way it does him, or even Barbara. Its not like I was miserable there, its just.”

“It wouldn’t have been your first choice,” Jason finished again, quietly. There was silence again for awhile.

“No. No, it wouldn’t have been. Not then.”

[booksinpublic]

Endometriosis and male birth control

I turned 30 last November and I'm just now realizing the all-consuming power that my menstrual cycle has on my body. Like most women I know, I've been constantly medicated via injections, implants and pills for more than 15 years, trying to find a birth control option that doesn't ravage me with cramps, cause ruptured cysts on my ovaries or thrust my mind into a vicious darkness at random and always-inconvenient moments. 

Maybe I would have reckoned with my natural cycle by now, soothed it and learned how to live with it in peace, had I removed birth control from the equation for any significant stretch of time. I don't know. But I do know I've never wanted kids, and I really like having sex with dudes (and ladies, but they’re polite enough to not randomly impregnate their partners). Male contraception doesn't exist, ergo I've always been on birth control. I've lived with the consequences of unproven, barely tested, hormone-ridden contraception methods my entire adult life, often signing up for consequences even my doctors didn’t anticipate. I've been hospitalized twice in the past two years with heart attack-like symptoms, only to have my period start between the EKGs and X-rays, explaining away my discomfort in one bloody rush. The gut-smack of realization -- Of course it’s my period, I’m such an idiot -- never fades. The second time I went to the hospital, it was in Austin, Texas, during a work trip to cover SXSW in March 2019. After nearly 10 years of reporting at shows like E3 and CES, I don’t exactly look forward to most conventions, but SXSW is different. I enjoy the casual, creative vibe of the show, and this year, I had a lineup of fantastic interviews. I was eager to get going. 

My period started because I had recently switched to the pill from Mirena, a high-hormone intrauterine device that for half a decade pushed my emotions to spike and plummet unpredictably, and possibly contributed to years of debilitating nausea. 

I vividly recall the day I had the Mirena implanted; IUDs were still relatively new on the mainstream circuit and there weren’t many first-hand accounts of the process online. My gynecologist said I might experience some cramping that night. I felt a pinch around my ovaries as she inserted the device with its dangling strings, t-shaped polyethylene body and 52 mg of LNG, a steroid hormone that mimics progesterone. I drove home, cramping slightly but pleased I didn’t have to pop a pill every day to maintain my non-parent status.

By that night, I was curled into a ball on the bed, clutching my abdomen, riding waves of the worst pain I’d ever experienced. That remains true to this day. I questioned everything that night, but mostly, it exists in my memory as a blur of white-hot agony. I kept the Mirena, of course. Eventually, my periods became erratic, punctuated by agonizing bursting cysts on my ovaries every few months, aftershocks of that initial night. Still, I kept the Mirena.

Fast forward five years. I’d just had the Mirena removed and was in a month-long waiting period before my gynecologist would add Skyla, a smaller and lower-hormone IUD, to my anatomy. After living with Mirena for so long, I forgot to pack my temporary birth-control pills for the Austin trip. On the third day of the show, my period arrived. Before I started bleeding, I had a fantastic day. I interviewed one of my literary idols, Neil Gaiman (and a bonus Jon Hamm), and had the rest of the afternoon to write; it was a dream situation for a convention like this. I walked to a coffee shop to work alongside some colleagues, opened my laptop, and was hit with an intense wave of nausea. My mind was gradually swathed in fog; my stomach roiled and acid hit the back or my throat. I couldn’t eat the soft pretzel I’d ordered. A colleague asked if I'd drank too much the previous night and I laughed it off, heart threatening to leap straight out of my throat. I went back to my hotel room, exhausted, and tried to finish my story. What should have taken an hour took four, and even then my editor called the draft a fever dream. I puked three times while writing it. Dizzy, short of breath, heart thundering in the pressurized cabin of my chest, I tried to eat dinner and sleep. I actually ate half of the burger I ordered. The night wore on, my colleagues went to a SXSW party, and once midnight rolled around, I tried to sleep. The tornado under my ribcage sent prickling tingles down my limbs, making my hands shake and sweat. Sleep eluded me. The signs of a heart attack are different for women and men. Many “traditional” symptoms, such as sharp pain in the chest, don't always appear in women. I knew this, vaguely, and my own body was out of whack enough that I Googled "female heart attack symptoms." I matched them all with uncanny accuracy. The websites I visited recommended calling 911 -- but then, they always do. Around 4:30AM, I called my boyfriend and then a 24-hour nurse line. I explained my symptoms and was advised to call an ambulance. After another half hour spent trying to convince myself I could fall asleep if I just tried a little harder, I got a Lyft to St. David’s South Austin Medical Center (that was $13, compared with an estimated $1,000 for an ambulance). I puked again in the waiting room bathroom, light-headed and paranoid my left arm was going numb. My period started (idiot). Over the following four hours, the doctors ran a few tests, I took some anti-nausea medication, and that was that. I was young and relatively healthy -- it was probably just anxiety or indigestion, according to the hospital staff. Even as I sat in the back seat of the Lyft on the way to the hospital, I knew the tests wouldn't return anything notable. They never did. Which, generally speaking, was a good thing. I wasn't having a heart attack -- great -- but I wasn't all right, either. There were a range of possible causes for my symptoms in Austin, and the same culprit may also be responsible for the years of isolating stomach issues I've experienced. However, by the time I left the hospital, it was clear that these episodes of heart-attacky symptoms were tied to my menstrual cycle. I did some quick online research and found a number of results that might explain my situation, all of them related to my period. This was new information. I knew about PMS and PMDD, the more extreme and debilitating version of PMS, but I'd never heard either word attached to heartburn or heart attacks specifically. I'd seen a gynecologist regularly for the past 15 years, but in the mess of other, more pressing consequences of female birth control, heartburn just never came up.

This is how it goes. I switch contraception methods and a fresh new hell is unleashed on my unsuspecting body, whether it's pain or emotional turmoil or fatigue or personality tweaks or changes in sex drive, and it takes me longer than it should to realize my symptoms line up perfectly with my new sterility regime. Shockingly, I'm not always thinking about birth control, though it's always, always in my life. All of this is to say it's bullshit there is no widespread form of male contraception yet. 

THE MALE BIRTH CONTROL CON | An informational interlude by Jessica Conditt

For men, the options are, essentially, condoms or vasectomies. Vasectomies are effective, but they’re also designed to be permanent. In an outpatient procedure, surgeons snip or block the vas defrens, which normally serve as the sperm highway in a man’s scrotum. Planned Parenthood describes the process as relatively pain-free, quick and nearly 100 percent effective after a three-month waiting period. However, vasectomies are for men who are done having kids, as they’re difficult (and sometimes impossible) to reverse.

There have been a few other attempts to fill the birth control gender gap: Vasalgel is a potentially reversible solution that acts like a vasectomy, but with an injected solution rather than actual surgery. This means the process is reversible, in theory. Vasalgel made headlines in 2017 when it was successfully tested on monkeys, but there hasn’t been much movement since.

There is one potential bright spot for the future of male birth control, and it comes in the form of a thin needle. 

“Most of the research has focused on the combination of testosterone plus a progestin, another sex steroid hormone that is found in men and women,” University of Washington chief of medicine Dr. Bradley D. Anawalt told Endocrine News in 2016. “Previous studies of male hormonal contraceptives have shown that injectable formulations provide effective contraception that is far superior to the condom and compares favorably to most female contraceptive options.”

In October 2016, researchers reported the results of a study into a particular injection-based method of male birth control. The shots (200 MG of norethisterone enanthate and 1,000 MG of testosterone undecanoate, injected every eight weeks) were tested in 320 men and found to be 96 percent effective. However, the study was halted because the men involved reported particularly high rates of adverse side effects, most notably depression and other mood disorders, but also acne, muscle pain and increased libido. Even with these effects, more than 75 percent of participants said they were willing to continue using the shot.

The most recent advancement in male birth control comes from the National Institutes of Health, which announced in November plans to study a gel designed to prevent pregnancy. The gel, NES/T, is rubbed into a man’s back and shoulders and works via a progestin-based compound called segesterone acetate and testosterone. The NIH is recruiting participants and the study is set to be completed in September 2021.

And that’s about it, when it comes to the technological landscape for male birth control. Promises, tests and silence.

The point here isn't that female birth control sucks or that men are purposefully thwarting attempts to devise a male version. In fact, most men I know are eagerly awaiting the day they can pop a pill and not worry about making a baby. 

I'm simply tired of treating my body like a hormone-bomb test site. I'm sick to death of the daily side effects of protecting myself -- and my male partners -- from pregnancy. 

That doesn't mean I'll stop any time soon. The possibility of pregnancy is still scarier than the side effects of birth control, for me and for now. I just wish men had as many terrible, effective, agonizing, freeing and emotionally disruptive options as I do.

* * * * * *

I wrote the above words in March 2019, while waiting for my Lyft to arrive at St. David’s South Austin hospital and take me back to the hotel. I typed them deliriously into the Keep Notes app on my phone, caught a few hours of sleep and then got back to covering the show.

When I returned home, I told my gynecologist about the hospital visit, the pain, the convincing heart attack symptoms. She nodded sympathetically and slid a Skyla device into my uterus. One week later, she checked on it with an ultrasound, and found a 5cm cyst inside my left ovary. It was a dense, black hole on the monitor. Endometriosis.

“Wow, it’s big,” she commented. “I’m surprised you haven’t been in more pain.”

I had been. I’d told her about it. But she’s a gynecologist -- her entire job is dealing with women in pain. My complaints of nausea and vomiting, significant weight loss, spasms of agony in my gut and irregular heart rhythms were not cause for alarm in this space. They were simply the price of having ovaries.

I had surgery last week to remove the endometrial cyst and surrounding damage. The procedure was supposed to take about an hour, but mine took three. At one point, my gynecologist was concerned she’d have to remove my entire left ovary, but she managed to keep my organs in place. Regardless, surgery isn’t the last step in living with endometriosis. It’s just the start.

The birth control bouncing around my body for the past 15 years likely kept my endometriosis at bay. The brief gap in IUD placement simply allowed my doctor to finally see it. All along, what I thought was pain from rupturing cysts was actually this disorder sticking my uterus together and filling my ovary with pus the color and consistency of melted chocolate. The cyst was apparently pushing against my bladder; since having it removed I’ve realized how painful peeing used to be.

Like with so many other symptoms, I’d gotten used to it.

[the-walking-memelords]

Allegiances: Chapter 8

Prologue | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 |Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 9

Series is rated M

Word Count: 3278

Louis briefly manages to pull Clementine away from her work for a card game, the experience making her decide to be a little more open with some of her new friends.

Read it on Ao3!

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Beads of sweat dripped down Clementine’s forehead as she stood under the late afternoon sun, her jacket and hoodie discarded across a nearby couch. She held her breath as she lined up her arrow. The wooden target swung slightly in the light breeze, arrows sticking out around the red painted bullseye mocking her faulty aiming.

This is easier with a gun.

Her fingers felt raw against the rough wood as she released the arrow. It stuck with a satisfying thunk just barely within the center circle.

“You’re uh, getting pretty good at that.” A nervous voice came from behind her. She turned to see Marlon standing hesitantly a few feet back, his own compound bow in his grip.

“I don’t think I’ve seen you drop that bow all week.”

“It's been a long time since I shot a bow.” She twirled another arrow in her fingers, barely looking at the blond boy.

“I need to get used to it again.”

“Mind if I… join you?”

Probably easier for him to talk to me now that that damn bruise is gone.

“Just don’t get in my way.” She spat, pulling the other arrows from the wood.

They each took turns firing at the target, the former leader having no problems hitting the bullseye. Clem bit her lip in frustration as her arrows landed scattered across the different rings of the target. Once the arrows ran out Clementine leaned against the couch with a sigh. Had this been a real competition, Marlon would have won by a mile.

“You're too good at this.” She said as the boy plucked out the arrows.

“I’ve had a lot of practice.” He smiled

“Though I imagine if we were shooting guns instead of bows you would be the one schooling me here.”

“I don’t doubt that.” She managed a chuckled.

Marlon still seemed a little nervous to be around her, but grateful he was able to do so. Unlike someone else, she was at least willing to give him the time of day.

“Did you talk to Brody recently?” She asked but the sombre look in his eyes told her he hadn’t.

“She won’t even look at me.” He sighed, crossing his arms.

“She’s been avoiding me like the plague for over a week.”

“You put her through a lot.” Clementine shrugged.

“Now that she has other people to open up to it’s going to take a while for her to be around you again.”

“I don’t expect her to forgive me, and honestly I don’t deserve it.” His gaze fell to the dirt.

“I put her through hell for the past year all because I was too afraid to tell everyone the truth. I hurt her… so much… because I am a coward.”

Marlon’s voice broke as he tried to get the words out. Clementine couldn’t help but pity him. It sometimes felt hard to judge him too harshly. Hurting others to protect someone you care about rang pretty close to home for her.

“I just have to let her go.” He decided.

“Brody and I… I don’t know what we were… before the twins were taken. Everything changed once that happened. The feelings were still there, but they were all so… twisted.”

“That might be for the best.” Clem flashed a small smile.

“There’s no point in trying to force it if it just makes you both miserable.”

“Yeah.” He nodded with a slight smirk, examining the bow in his hands.

“We’re not like you and Louis.”

“Excuse me?” Clementine choked on her own spit. She coughed for a moment as heat rushed to her cheeks.

Please don’t tell me he thinks there’s something going on between me and Louis.

“Oh, nothin’.” He teased.

Clementine crossed her arms with a huff. She knew her face was bright red. She wondered what gossip had spread about them.

“Try shooting with this one.” He held the compound bow out to her, changing the subject back to archery. “It’s a lot better than those wooden ones we scavenged.”

Clementine took the bow. The fact that it was metal made it significantly heavier than the other one she had been using. Pulling back the bowstring took extra effort, making her overworked muscles even sorer. She fought against the discomfort as she lined up her shot. The arrow flew with a lot more power, dropping less mid-air before it sunk into the middle of the target.

“I finally got it!” Clem smiled proudly.

“Indeed you did.” The boy smirked.

Clementine looked over the bow one more time before handing it back to Marlon.

“Keep it.” He said, refusing to accept it.

“You’re the protector these people deserve. You should have the best weapon.”

“Thank you.” She nodded, wanting to feel happy but unable to shake the claws of anxiety digging into her chest. Clementine wasn’t sure if she would be able to live up to Marlon’s words.

I have to be certain.

The bow suddenly felt heavier in her hands

I don’t have room to second-guess myself.

A week of deliberation did nothing to help Clementine fully make up her mind. She knew what Lilly was capable of, the lengths that evil bitch would go to to get her way. If worse came to worst, Clementine was afraid she would have to abandon her new friends to keep AJ safe.

God, when was the last time I saw him?

She had been denied the opportunity to say goodbye before they loaded her onto the ship. Closer to cargo than to a member of the group.

Thirty-two days ago.

It was a thought that slowly picked away at her heart, shaking the ground beneath her as she tried her best to stay on her feet.

“Clementine?”

Her eyes shot open as she blinked back the first pricklings of tears. Clem felt as if she had lost time as she realized her surroundings, a concerned Marlon included.

“Sorry, I just… zoned out.” She laughed weakly.

“It’s too hot out here.”

“I see you two are getting along finally.” The cheerful voice of Louis chimed as he approached, smiling hopefully.

“Don’t push your luck.” Clementine smirked at the freckled boy, trying to calm the gnawing feeling in her chest.

“What’s up, Lou?” Marlon asked his best friend.

“I uh, wanted to talk to Clem for a minute.” Louis said, scratching the back of his head.

“Really?” The blond teased.

“Dude, shut up.”

“Can we go inside?” Clementine suggested, wiping the sweat off her forehead with her bare arm. The sun felt like daggers in her somewhat watery eyes.

“Sure.” Louis cast one final glare towards Marlon before he lead her towards the admin building.

---

“Where are you taking me?” Clem asked as she hurriedly followed behind the taller boy, her steps moving twice as fast to keep up with his longer strides.

“It’s a surprise.”  He kept facing forward but his smile was wide enough for Clem to see how the corners of his mouth curled upward.

“Trust me, it’ll be worth the suspense.”

“Are you always this dramatic?” She giggled as she followed him up a winding stairwell. Their footsteps echoed as they ascended.

“I prefer charming and theatrical.” He winked, slightly out of breath as they continued to climb.

“Entertaining is another word that comes to mind.”

They climbed flight after flight until they finally reached the top. Clementine leaned against the railing, panting from her efforts to keep pace with him.

Why are tall people so damn fast?

The top of the stairwell ended in a small room. Cobwebs hung from every corner and a layer of dust covered the floor, their footprints being the only thing that had disturbed it in some time. Louis stood in front of an old rusted metal door, hand reaching back to the handle as he faced Clementine. Golden rays of the outside sunset peeked over his shoulder through the cracked glass window of the door, causing the boy to be slightly silhouetted

“Right this way, my lady.” He struggled with the rusted handle for a moment before getting it to open. The door squeaked loudly on its hinges as Clementine stepped past him onto the outside roof.

She squinted, using her hand to shield her eyes from the light of the sun as it hung just above the treeline. From up here, Clementine could just barely see overtop of the expansive forest that surrounded their school. Puffy clouds scattered the sky above, painted in soft, warm hues by the sinking sun. The dark trees reached for the heavens with their pointy branches, unable to taint the beauty of the sky with the corruption of the earth below.

“It’s incredible up here.” Clementine gasped.

“I know, right?” He took a spot beside her.

“It feels so suffocating down there sometimes, almost like we’re stuck in a cage. But up here? It’s like we’re above everything like nothing can touch us.”

“Free.” She said softly, admiring how the sun turned his soft brown eyes to pools of honey.

“Exactly. It’s easy to forget that there’s a big wide world out there.” His face seemed wistful as if he was stranded.

“You’re the only one here who’s seen it. The way it is now, at least.”

“There’s not much to see I’m afraid.” Nothing but the dead for as far as you could go, and worse, the occasional living.

“Everything out there is either overgrown or broken down.”

“There’s gotta be something left to enjoy.” He jammed his hands into the pockets of his trenchcoat.

“But hey! Since we can't on a vacation out there, how about we have a little one right here.”

“Uh, what?” Clem raised an eyebrow at him as he grinned.

“How is this a vacation?”

“Simple. People go on vacations to get away, right? Have some fun? Well, up here, we can forget about all of the other bullshit going on down there. No walkers. No people. No stress or worries!” He spun as he let his theatrics take over for a moment before slowing again, pulling his card deck from his pocket and holding out towards her.

“One game?”

How could I refuse?

“What’s the game?” Clementine accepted the halved deck, kicking a few broken twigs out of the way as they sat on the roof facing each other.

“Twenty Questions. Nothing crazy.” He smiled, shuffling his half of the cards.

Simple and fun!”

Her heart fluttered as she messed with her own deck, pulling her first card. Her seven of spades defeated his five of diamonds.

“So…” She smiled devilishly as she held up the winning card.

“How’d you lose that tooth?”

“When I was thirteen I was doing this song and dance routine out in the yard trying to annoy slash cheer up Violet into smiling for a change.” He chuckled at the memory.

“There was one part where I jumped onto the picnic table, but my foot slipped on the seat and I hit my face off it instead.”

“Seriously? That’s what you did?” Clementine couldn't help but burst into laughter at the mental image.

“Hey. I’ll have you know it worked like a charm.” He smirked, shaking his head.

“Violet didn’t stop laughing at me for a week.”

He’s such a dork.

Clem continued to giggle as she drew another card, pulling the high card once more.

“Two in a row.” She pondered what to ask.

“Hmm… Where are you from, before everything?”

Louis looked down for a moment, biting his lip. Clementine felt a tinge of regret as she hoped she hadn’t brought up any painful memories.

“You don’t have to answer tha-”

“New York City, actually.” He cut her off.

“Always loud and busy all the time, but the skyline at night was a sight to die for.”

He looked off towards the woods sadly. Louis really was a long way from home.

“You usually couldn’t see any stars from all the lights on the buildings, but those were pretty enough to admire.”

“I grew up on the outside of Atlanta.” She reminisced.

“Born and raised in the same house before everything changed. I’ve been all over since then.”

All these years later but if Clementine went back to her old home tomorrow, she knew she could walk the halls blindfolded.

“My parents and I went into the city all the time, I used to love it when we drove past the skyscrapers.”

They shared an empathetic smile, silently flipping over their next cards. Louis’ king of hearts gained him a victory against her four of clubs.

“Third time’s the charm!” He cheered, holding the card high.

“Just ask your damn question.”

“What’s the craziest thing you’ve ever done?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Surely a badass like you has had a few interesting adventures.”

Clementine paused to think for a moment, attempting to pick a story he would find most impressive.

“I once helped a former baseball player overthrow a corrupt government and save an entire community from a herd of walkers.”

Louis’ jaw dropped. He stared at her in awe, completely speechless.

“His name was Javier Garcia, he was pretty cool. His nephew, Gabe, was really sweet. I hadn’t met someone my age in forever.” She smiled as she thought of another card-playing dork she once knew.

“I miss him.”

“Was he uh, good looking?” Louis’ smile dropped as he stared at his deck.

What kind of question is that?

“I didn’t think about that, but he was cool, I guess” Clem was confused why that was the part he was interested in.

“The city of Richmond used to be run by a group called the New Frontier, lead by this psycho bitch who raided other towns to get supplies.”

Clementine’s right hand scratched hesitantly just above her left elbow. She took a deep breath, finally deciding to roll the sleeve of her henley shirt up farther, revealing the circular branding scar.

“I used to run with them before Javi showed up, this was their initiation.” She bit her lip, the feeling of the red hot metal scorching her flesh still a crisp memory.

“That is fucked.” Louis said plainly, staring at the angry red mark.

“How could you let them do that to you?”

“I didn’t have a choice. I was all alone, barely able to keep myself going and I…” She trailed off, digging her nails into her palms as she tried to remain calm.

“I had… someone… I needed to protect.”

Clementine pulled her legs up to her chest, resting her chin on her knee. She watched the sun dip below the trees, unable to look back at Louis.

“I’m sorry.” Louis apologized.

“I didn’t mean to bring back bad memories.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong, Lou.” She assured, hiding the brand once more.

“I’m alright.”

The first cold breeze of the night blew past them, causing goosebumps to form over her exposed skin.

Dammit, I left my jacket down there.

“I think it might be time to bring this vacation to an end.” Louis stood, offering the shorter girl his hand.

“Let's get inside before you freeze.”

She graciously took his hand, bringing herself to her feet. Clem’s face felt warm while the rest of her was chilled. Hardly thinking, she wrapped her arms around the freckled boy. Her arms wrapped around his torso inside of his coat, head resting on his chest. His heart rate picked up, causing her own heart to feel giddy. Louis immediately returned the surprise embrace, wrapping his coat around her. Neither spoke before she pulled away, the boy releasing her.

“Thank you, Louis.” She brushed a few loose curls behind her ear.

“I needed this.”

Through the last light of day that dwindled on the horizon, she could see his cheeks dusted red.

“I can’t wait for our next ‘vacation.’” She smirked at the flustered boy before making her way back inside.

Maybe next time we can actually call it a date.

---

Clementine yawned as she read over the school map for what felt like the millionth time. The flickering candle was the only thing dimly lighting the music room. The pale moonlight barely able to shine through the clouds outside. The tip of her pencil lightly traced the creases in the paper as she tried to organize the new defences. The barbed wire had been set, the sharp coils guarding the top of the brick walls that surrounded their home.

This won't be enough.

A few practice drills and barbed wire wouldn’t be enough to hold off Lilly and the others. Somehow, Clementine was going to have to turn these teenagers into real fighters. The collection date was fast approaching, less than a week before the Delta would come knocking on their door. She used what remained of her closely chewed nails to scratch the wooden writing desk.

“Clementine?” Violet’s voice broke her out of her thoughts.

“Shit, Vi you scared the hell out of me.” Clem practically jumped from her chair upon hearing her friend’s voice.

“Sorry, I just uh… wanted to talk to you.” The blonde seemed on edge. Clementine was starting to think it was something she’d done to make them act this way around her.

“About what?”

“Well, about that.” She gestured to the map that Clem had been practically burning holes in with her eyes.

“You spend almost all your free time locked away with that thing.”

“I’m planning our new defences.” She looked back to the paper. Every mark, fold and tear was already memorized in her brain.

“Yeah? Well, it seems more like you’re gearing up for war.” Violet said almost accusingly as she crossed her arms.

“What’s going on with you?”

“I just want us to be ready for anything.” She scribbled on the desk with her pencil tight in her grip.

“Well, it feels like you’re getting us ready for something.” Violet walked around her to be back in her line of sight.

Shit.

“I’m not a dumbass, Clem. You’re worried about something out there. The drills, the training, this fucking map.” She sat on the edge of the table.

“You know the outside world better than any of us.”

Clementine’s heart started to race as she waited for what her friend would say next.

“Do you know something?”

The graphite tip of her pencil snapped She let it clatter onto the desk as she took a deep breath. Clementine felt almost as if she was back in that train station. Her little boy’s life hanging in the balance of the words she spoke.

“I-I…” She tried to find the right words.

“I know… of… something.”

A lie, but not quite. The truth, but not full. Something of a balance between the two.

“There’s a war going on up north. Two communities at each other’s throats. I’ve been trying to get away from it for a long time.” She still couldn’t meet Violet’s eye.

“One of the communities has been moving farther and farther in this direction. If they find you, they’ll take you. Make you fight for them. If you don’t, they’ll hurt you, or they’ll hurt someone you love.”

“Shit.” Violet cursed.

“Do you… do you think that’s what happened to Minnie and Soph?”

Clementine finally looked up at her. Violet’s face was twisted with grief as if she had just lost the twins all over again.

“Yes, I do.”

A heavy silence hung between them for a moment. Violet began to pace the room a bit, contemplating this new threat.

“If you’re right, and they come back for the rest of us…” The blonde panicked.

“What are we going to do?”

“We’re going to fucking fight.”

[feelingfredly]

The Fox Guards the Wolf

Part Three

The Rooster and the Hen House

The dojo was humming with activity, and Ichigo breathed in the familiar scents of sweat, leather mats, and incense, pulling his focus tightly in upon himself, and letting all of his stress melt away.

The first Saturday of every month was for officially refereed matches, and he’d faced three different opponents over the course of the morning, but none of them had beaten him so far. Now he had one more round, and he was done for the day.

He bowed to the referee, and then to his opponent, sending his best friend a challenging smirk.

“Hajime!”  

The two were evenly matched.  They’d been training together for four years, but this was the first chance they’d had to face off against each other recently due to Renji’s crazy study schedule.  Not many of the students at the dojo had as much experience as they did, and it was nice to be able to stretch his skills without being afraid he was going to accidentally hurt someone.

Ichigo raised his hands and lunged, thrusting one leg out and hooking it behind Renji’s foot as he trapped their hands high between their chests.

Grappling was Renji’s bread and butter.  He was taller, and a little heavier, and if he could get a good grip Ichigo would be in trouble. Today Ichigo was faster, though, and getting a good foothold off the bat gave him all the edge he needed.  He twisted, pulling Renji’s body closer, and then threw him over with all his strength, slamming the taller man onto his back.

“Ippon! Soremade.” The referee’s voice cut through the background noise. Match over. Three for three.

The friends stood, faced each other, and bowed again.

“Shit, Kurosaki,” Renji said, once they cleared the mat, “You were really in the zone today. I haven’t seen you move that fast since Inoue-san tried to get you to eat her chocolate-wasabi onigiri.”  He laughed but Ichigo remembered that day. He had moved pretty fast.  With Inoue’s food you had to—it was run or die.  “Three ippons in a row! You could have at least given me a chance.  You had me on my back faster than a fūzoku.”

Ichigo shook his head and tried to ignore the trace of red the teasing brought to his face. Renji was shameless.  Luckily, he’d taught Ichigo to give as good as he got.

“Just didn’t want to tease you too much, Abarai.  I know how hot and bothered you get thinking about pinning me like that.  You’d never have been able to spar with a hard-on.”

As freshmen the two had met in the dojo.  Ichigo had taken judo lessons since he turned twelve, and had been expected to keep training by his father, but Renji used judo as an outlet for some of his less socially acceptable impulses. He loved the physicality of it, and said more than once that it was the only thing that kept him from getting kicked out of school. It had only taken a few weeks for the two sparring partners to become friends, and after that first semester they found an apartment close to their classes and moved in together.

They’d fought off and on that first year. Renji went out drinking every weekend and slept through half the undergraduate population—male and female—and didn’t understand why Ichigo spent all his time studying. After a while, though, the newness of freedom wore off and he settled down into a more reasonable routine.  He had an ambitious streak that pushed him, and he strove to be the best in every class, but it never turned him into an asshole. He was still the charming, outgoing goofball he’d been from the beginning, and he only occasionally teased Ichigo about his volumes of Shakespeare by the bathtub, and the medical journals he left on the kitchen counter.

His dad hadn’t been thrilled when he said he wanted to move off campus, but after a few meetings he and Renji had hit it off.  Both Renji’s parents had died when he was small and he’d been raised in foster care, and while Kurosaki Isshin would never admit it, the redhead had become almost a second son. When Renji had been accepted to law school, he was just as proud as he’d been of Ichigo’s MCAT scores, and he’d bragged about them to anyone who would listen.

Hopefully, he’d never realize what his sons had gotten up to over the years.

“You working at the clinic tonight?” Renji asked. “I didn’t check the schedule this morning.”

“Not tonight.” Ichigo said. “I swapped with Yamazaki-san, so he could attend his little sister’s graduation ceremony last week, so I have an unexpected evening off.”

“Hot date?”

Ichigo rolled his eyes.  “Only if you count my laptop.”

Renji snorted.  “Sadly, that might sound better if I knew you had a porn addiction, but no.  You’re going to find some dusty corner and commune with your muse again aren’t you?”

They hit the lockers and Ichigo pulled his clothes out, focusing on getting dressed so he didn’t have to answer.

Renji was more supportive than most about his writing. He agreed that spending a year working on getting his novel finished and finding an agent was important, but he didn’t understand Ichigo’s choice to stop dating until he’d made a final decision about med school. For him, getting laid was a priority—like breathing—and he was convinced Ichigo was crazy to try to deny himself.

It wasn’t like Ichigo had completely given up on sex.  He’d had a few dates where he’d ended up in someone’s bed, but they’d been one night with no strings attached, and he never ended up in the same bed twice.  There just wasn’t enough attraction with any of them to make it worth the effort.

“My muse, as you put it, is better company than anyone I’ve been out with recently.” He tugged his shirt over his head and pulled it down. “Anyway, you know how I feel. Until I get things settled it isn’t fair to ask someone to put up with my shit.  Hell, I don’t want to put up with my shit.”

Renji came around the corner, dress shirt unbuttoned and untucked, and Ichigo sighed.  It wasn’t fair. The man was hot as hell, with his chest tatted up, and his muscles rippling subtly under smooth skin. At one time Ichigo thought he’d found his perfect match, but it wasn’t meant to be. They’d slept together a few times, and the redhead was as enthusiastic a lover as he was a sparring partner, but there was something missing and they both knew it.  

“Don’t sell yourself short, man.” Long fingers made short work of his buttons. “There are lots of people out there who have less of an idea of what they’re doing with their lives than you.  You’ve got a job, you’re writing a novel, you’re smart, you’re good looking,” he looked down at him and grinned, “and you have the hottest roommate in the history of cohabitation.”

Renji cocked his head to one side, looked at something over Ichigo’s shoulder, and stage whispered.  “Someone’s taken notice at least.  Although he seems a little on the shy side.”

Ichigo turned to see what he was talking about.  “What? Who?” All he could see were a few other judo students.

Renji shook his head, and looked a little dismayed.  “Dude was just standing by the door.  I noticed him watching the matches earlier.  Good looking guy.  I guess he saw me watching him, uh, watching, and ducked out.”

Ichigo slid his feet into his shoes and grabbed his bag, the weight of the laptop heavy as he slung it over his shoulder.  

“You sure he was watching me?” He looked at his friend. “Of the two of us, you’re the one who gathers groupies.”

Renji lost his smart-ass grin and shook his head.  “No way.  I gave him a good long look—you know I like the ones that look like they could do a little damage, and this guy looked like he could hold his own—but he didn’t notice me at all.  He was all about you.”

Ichigo felt his heart speed up a little.  “What did he look like?  Kind of tall?  Shoulders? Blond hair?”

Renji shook his head again, but looked questioningly down at him. “No.  Your height. Dark. Black hair, dark eyes, mid-twenties? Moved like a fighter.”

Sounded like another not-Yakuza, but this one had found him. Shit.

He shut his locker door a little too hard and tried to tamp down the disappointment he felt that it hadn’t been the geta wearing man from the day before. It wasn’t like there was any reason to expect to see him again. He hadn’t even told Ichigo his name.  

Even if he had said he’d see him again.

Renji stared at him a minute, and Ichigo could hear the wheels grinding away in his head as he put two and two together and as usual, ended up with five.  “What’s going on, Kurosaki? Are you in some kind of trouble? Is this blond you mentioned giving you grief?”

See? Five.

Still. While Renji could be as over-protective as Isshin, it was hard to mind. One of the things they’d first connected over was a hardcore desire to avoid the local gangs, and it was still a hot-button topic for his roommate. Renji had more than his share of run-ins with tough guys in the foster care system and he’d considered it his job to protect the kids who were weaker or smaller than him, whether it was from lousy foster parents, or predatory thugs looking to recruit cannon fodder for their turf wars.   For a lawyer, it was an excellent skill set. He could usually smell gang members a mile away, and it helped keep him out of trouble.  So, if this guy didn’t set off Renji’s sensors, maybe he wasn’t a bad guy.

Maybe.

Hopefully.

“Something strange happened yesterday at Como’s.  I was getting ready to  head in for my shift at the clinic when these two guys showed up with neon signs over their heads screaming We’re Bad Guys. Before I knew it, I was running a little interference in the middle of some sort of throw-down.  No one got hurt.” He thought about that and changed it. “Well, one of the guys with guns got hurt, but he was kind of asking for it.”

Renji stopped dead in the middle of buckling his belt, his eyebrows halfway to his hairline.  “Guns? Why am I only hearing about this now?  Did you call your old man and tell him?”

This was so not a conversation Ichigo wanted to be having.

“I’m telling you now. I didn’t tell you yesterday because you were balls deep in the flavor of the week when I got home last night and I didn’t feel like ruining the mood.  And no, I didn’t call my dad because there was nothing he could have done about it.  He’s retired.  Anyway, the man who was at the center of the whole thing seemed to have everything well in hand. He was so smooth you’d think that sort of thing happened to him every day.”

Renji made a strangled noise.  “Competence isn’t a good thing in these situations. You have to take this seriously. If you got in the middle of some turf war…”

Ichigo scrubbed his hand over his face. “It wasn’t like that. These guys were more like high-end kidnappers than gangbangers.”

Oddly enough, that didn’t improve things. Renji looked like he was going to have a stroke.  His face was almost as red as his hair.

“Kidnappers.” He glared. “Do you have any idea how crazy this sounds? And you didn’t let your dad, the retired police lieutenant, know? What the fuck, Kurosaki?”

Ichigo ignored the questions and walked out into the dojo with Renji struggling along behind him, still trying to get his shoes on.

“You know how Goat-face gets.  The minute he heard he’d start freaking out and acting like I was fourteen and being brought home from getting my ass kicked, again. I’m twenty-three, Abarai. I have a black belt in judo and a brown belt in karate.  I can handle myself. I don’t need to run to my dad for help every time something happens.”

He didn’t mention that it would terrify his sisters, or that it would throw the entire Kurosaki household into turmoil, forcing his dad to relive the nightmare of his wife’s death.  His father had many skills.  Moving on wasn’t one of them.  

“Kurosaki-san!”

The voice came from one of the younger instructors trying to flag him down as he headed for the exit.

“Someone left this for you at the desk.” Ichigo took the message with a respectful bow and murmured thanks, and continued out the door.

After the dojo the street was oddly quiet, the background buzz dropping to just faint traffic noise, and the two friends stopped and stood against the wall, looking down at the card in Ichigo’s hand.

It was a white card with a small red embossed inkan in the corner, the writing clean and precise, and it was clearly addressed to Kurosaki Ichigo.

“What’s that?” Renji asked, peering over his shoulder. “Love letter from a secret admirer? Maybe he was too shy to stay and ask you out in person. Or maybe it’s a ransom demand from your friendly neighborhood kidnappers. It’s even odds.”

Ichigo made a fed up sound. “Drop it, Abarai. Remember, I know where you sleep.”

Renji waggled his eyebrows suggestively. “As if I could forget. I keep my door open in case you ever want me to comfort you after a bad dream.”

Ichigo stared at his friend. It was like living with an overgrown puppy with ADHD and a sex addiction. How the man managed to survive in law school was a mystery.

Maybe he fucked all his professors.  It would explain a lot.

“Who is Tsukabishi Tessai?” Renji asked, switching his focus back to the note and Ichigo groaned at the mental whiplash. Definitely ADHD.

“I met him yesterday at the coffee house.”

Ichigo thought back and tried to remember all the details about the man that he could.  He was tall, even taller than Renji, with dark skin and tiny braids running along his scalp. The most powerful feeling Ichigo had been left with about him, though, was one of almost preternatural calm.  It was as if nothing short of a bomb going off could unsettle the man.  A good trait for someone faced with armed bad guys, he supposed.

“He was not one of the kidnappers I’m presuming?”

Ichigo sighed but didn’t feed the troll.

He re-read the note wondering if it was some sort of trick, but it hadn’t changed.  “No. He showed up after everything started to go to hell. He was driving, but he didn’t act like any chauffeur I’ve ever heard of.  Instead of freaking out over someone trying to grab his boss, or over the fact that we basically beat the crap out of two guys in the middle of the sidewalk, he just apologized for being late, took their guns and tossed the men into the back seat of his car.”

Renji looked like he wanted to start yelling again, but he restrained himself.  Barely.

“And this is… what? A thank you note? A threat? He wants to make sure you keep your mouth shut and don’t tell the authorities?”

Ichigo shook his head again, and gave up trying to make sense of it all, and handed the card over for Renji to read for himself.

“He’s offering me a job.”

[manymessyfandoms]

Hiya! I am in love with your writing style and recent MCU fics. I was wondering if you could do one about Peter being touch starved/lonely? With all his Spider-Man and highschool he just never gets a break like goddamn. Give that boy some love

HI THERE, i’m so glad you’ve liked my stuff! 

I hope you like it! read on ao3 here)

Peter Parker wasn’t lonely. 

He’s just been… on his own a lot lately. Between school and patrolling, he’d been finding him by himself most of the time, and it was fine. Totally and completely fine.

Except it wasn’t. 

It started getting bad when he couldn’t sleep at night. He’d get home from patrolling and May would already be in bed. He’d just lie there for hours, unable to relax. 

Then he’d get up in the morning and rush through his morning routine before racing to school. By lunch time, he’d be tired enough to snap at anyone that tried to talk to him. Immediately after that, the guilt over being rude would make his heart race for the rest of the day.

Then afterwards he’d patrol, and repeat.  It was a never-ending cycle that had Peter always on edge.

“You want to come over after school and help me build the new set my mom bought me?” Ned asked as they were packing up to leave, their last class for the day finally being over.

“I can’t, man. I’ve got some stuff to do.”

Ned scoffed. “Yeah, I know what stuff you have to do. But, dude, you need a break. Come on, Peter. Come over,” Ned said, whining the last words.

“Another time?” Peter’s heart sank at Ned’s disappointed face. 

“Yeah, yeah, sure. Okay.”

“Ned-”

“I’ve got to go. My mom’s waiting for me.” And with that Ned left, leaving Peter standing there trying to calm down.

He didn’t know what was wrong with him. He should’ve been able to go hangout with his friend, but the thought of not patrolling stressed him out because what if something happened that he could’ve stopped? He couldn’t abandon these people. 

But as he watched his friend walk away, the thought that he was abandoning someone anyways had him frozen in spot, his heart going faster that normal. 

“Watch it, Penis!” Flash yelled as he ran into Peter, sending him stumbling towards the wall. Peter shook his head to shake him out of his stupor, and then he left the school. 

It was about two hours into patrolling when things took a turn for the worst. Peter was webbing up a couple car thieves when Peter heard a bang and felt a sharp pain in his side. He didn’t realize they had another friend. 

“Karen, call Tony,” he grunted out before whipping around and adding the third guy to the pile with the others. He had just finished securing them when he blacked out. 

After an indeterminable amount of time, Peter started to wake up to the feeling of fingers running through his hair. “‘Ello? What happened?” he mumbled.

“Peter, oh thank God,” Tony’s voice replied before Peter opened his eyes. “You scared me half to death, kid. From now on, I forbid you from getting shot.”

Peter laughed and involuntarily curled towards Tony. He glanced at the closing wound on his side. “Sorry. I’m, like, already healed though, and I even called you. That’s progress.”

Tony let out a thick chuckle. “Right. Progress.” There was a pause. “You’re taking a break from patrolling.”

“What?”

“I talked to Karen. She told me you haven’t been sleeping and that you’re heart rate is almost always above normal. You never take any time for yourself, kid, and it’s taking a toll on you.”

For some reason, Peter felt like crying. “Traitor,” he mumbled to Karen before turning to Tony. “I’m fine, Mr. Stark. I can’t not patrol. People need Spiderman, people need me.”

“Exactly, people need you, Pete, and you can’t help people if you don’t help yourself. Peter?” For some reason, Peter’s breaths had gotten shorter and shorter until he couldn’t get anything in. “Hey, breathe, Pete. Breathe with me.” It took seconds, minutes, hours, for Peter to calm down. “That’s it. Good job, just keep breathing.”

“Something’s wrong with me, Tony,” he said tiredly when he was able to get words out. “I- I always am on edge. Not patrolling makes me feel bad, but patrolling makes me feel bad. I’m always disappointing someone. I don’t know. I just- I don’t feel right.”

Tony looked at him with a sad look on his face before pulling him into a hug. Peter shuddered and a few tears escaped his eyes. “It’s okay, Peter. I’ll help you.” Peter just nodded. 

The next day, Peter was shocked to find Tony Stark waiting outside for him after school. “Pete, Ted!” he called out when he saw Peter and Ned. “Come on, we’re going out.”

Ned turned to Peter with wide eyes. “Dude, what’s Tony Stark doing here? Dude!” Peter shrugged and walked towards the car.

“Tony,” Peter said when he got to him. “I… I’ve got stuff tonight.” His palms were sweating and his heart was racing already. 

“No you don’t,” he replied immediately. “I’ve recruited a few friends of ours to patrol tonight. You’re taking some time off.”

Peter blinked once, twice. “What? Who?” Just then Steve Rogers and Natasha Romanoff appeared, and Peter’s jaw dropped. “Are you kidding? This is a little below their pay grade, don’t you think?”

“Hey, Peter,” Steve said before Tony could reply. “Tony said you need some help. We’ll takeover for a little bit. Go relax.” The look on his face had Peter wondering what Tony had told them. 

“But- but-”

Natasha stepped forward. “It’s alright. We got this.” Peter almost laughed. Of course they had this. This was nothing to them. 

Just then, a hand clapped around Peter’s shoulder, and Peter once again leaned into it. “Come on, Pete,” Tony said. “It’s time to take care of yourself.”

Peter genuinely smiled for the first time in weeks and nodded. The knot of anxiety that had settled in his gut finally loosened a bit, and he felt his body relax slightly. “Okay, sure.” 

“Great! Ted, get on in the car.”

Peter held back a laugh. “Actually, it’s-”

“Yes, sir! Mr. Stark, sir,” Ned scrambled in the car. Peter laughed when Ned whispered to him, “I’m Ted now.”

Tony took them to a science museum and it was the most fun Peter had in awhile. He didn’t want it to end. 

But it did, and Peter prepared for things to go back to normal as they dropped Ned off at his house. “Mr. Stark,” Peter said as they drove away. “My house is that way.”

“We’re going to the Tower, kid. You’re spending the weekend with me.”

“Huh?” Peter so eloquently got out. “I- I mean, aren’t you busy?”

Tony shook his head. “Nah, not really. Only plans for this weekend are hanging out with this pain in the ass kid that I like a lot for some reason.”

Peter laughed. “Sounds like a lot of work. You sure that kid’s worth it?”

“Oh yeah,” Tony clasped a hand on his shoulder. “I’m sure.”

That night they were laying on the couch watching a movie when Tony spoke up. “What’s been going on with you, Peter?”

Peter shifted, uncomfortable. He knew what he was talking about. “I told you,” he mumbled. “I just don’t want to disappoint anyone.”

“You had a panic attack the other day just talking about this. Come on, what’s going on in that surprisingly brilliant head of yours.”

Peter cracked the smallest of smiles before it faded. “I… I don’t really know, actually. It’s just… I’m always alone with myself. When I patrol I’m alone, I go to bed I’m alone, I go to school on my own. I don’t know. It’s like, I feel like I’m disappointing someone always, and I hate being alone, but I need to be alone, and I feel like I’m suffocating-” Peter broke off when Tony put a hand on the back on his neck and pulled him into a hug. Peter clutched him like a lifeline. 

“You know I had really bad anxiety for awhile,” Tony said. “Similar thing to you, but then I was reminded that I can’t help anyone until I help myself.” Tony pulled away and looked at Peter. “You have a whole network of people around you that want to help. You’re not alone. Let us be there for you, Pete.”

Peter nodded and a few tears leaked from his eyes. He felt as if a weight was lifted from his shoulders. “But I can’t let Captain America do my work, Tony,” he said with a laugh. “The Avengers have more important things to do than walk old ladies across the street.”

“Newflash, kid, the Avengers do what they want. And if what we want to do is be the friendly-neighborhood-Avengers for awhile to help you out, then that’s what we’re going to do.” Peter grinned and Tony ruffled his hair. “You’re going to be okay, Pete. We’re going to help you.”

Peter smiled, the warmth in his heart overtaking the cold, and for the first time, Peter thought he was going to be okay.

“Thank you, Tony.”

Tony grinned. “Anything for you, kid. Anything for you.”

[intimatevoid]

Stolen from @littledonkeyburrito, as usual~

1. Do you prefer guys to shave down there? I have no preference. As long as the hair isn't making things difficult, like getting caught in hands and toys and teeth, he can do what he wants.

2. Do you prefer liquid, mousse or powder foundation? Why? I don’t really think about it because I don't wear foundation. My skin's clear enough that I don't need it, and even if it wasn’t, I wouldn’t wear it because I would sweat it off in minutes. (Setting spray? I destroy setting spray ;A; it’s the worst.)

3. How much does your mother know about your sex life (or lack thereof)? Next to nothing, I guess. All she knows is that I've been with Ash for a while, and that I was with Seb for a while too.

4. Do you enjoy watching cooking shows? Not really. Like if one's on in a waiting room or something then I'll absently watch, but if I have any say in the matter then I don't know watch them.

5. Do you worry about gaining weight? Only if it affects my health somehow. Aside from a recent fluctuation from hormonal fuckery, I can usually do whatever I want without my weight changing at all.

6. Have you ever used fake tan? Nah, I've never needed to. I tan really dark, really quickly.

7. How do you organize your make-up? I just put different kinds into little ziplock bags to keep them from getting lost in my makeup bag. Pens in one, eye-shadow and eye brushes in the other.

8. Do you ever look at someone cute, and automatically make a move? Hahaha, holy fuck, I would never have confidence in my own desirability to do something like that. What would the point even be?

9. Do you live in a house, apartment, or another type of arrangement? An apartment, but I’m hoping like crazy that later this year I’m able to move into a house.

10. What’s one event your town has that you don’t like to participate in? Toowoomba has the Carnival of Flowers. I usually avoid it because it’s too hot, and too noisy.

11. Are any of your siblings married? What are their spouses’ names? Nope, though Clare (the bitchy, transphobic one) is engaged to a lovely guy named Simon who deserves so much better.

12. Does your father have any creepy or scary friends you don’t like? I haven’t spoken to my dad in years. I haven’t spoken to any of his friends in even longer. Though he’s all about being friends with Jesus, who certainly creeps me the fuck out. Does he count?

13. Do you watch any shows that you know your parents wouldn’t approve of? Ha! Literally anything that’s not conservative or whatever, they would disapprove.

14. What venue was the last real concert you went to at? Some concert hall in Brisbane, I don’t remember what it’s called.

15. Does your best friend and their mom have the same last name? Yes, no, no, yes, and half plus their dad’s last name.

16. What color is your cellphone? Black.

17. Are you currently waiting for a phone call? From whom? No, thank fuck.

18. Do you have any drugs in your bedroom? No

19. Is there a feature on your face that people compliment you on? Sometimes my eyes or my skin.

20. What are your plans for the rest of the week? Nothing, thank fuck. This past week has been exhausting and I am grateful for the chance to finally fucking rest.

21. How many studded belts do you own? None.

22. Has your partner ever had braces? I don’t think so?

23. What have you eaten today?

 A sandwich, and some spicy noodles.

24. What’s your favourite thing to do? Quietly spend socially antisocial time with loved one/s, perhaps gaming or reading, gently touching but otherwise not interacting.

25. Did you wear a jacket today? Lord no, it’s way too hot.

26. Have you kissed more than two people of the same sex? Eyyyup!

27. How many times have you had sex in one day? Twice I think? Or maybe only once. I don’t have sex very often.

28. Did you exercise at all today? Nope, but I’m scheduled for it tomorrow.

29. Would you ever move far away for a job opportunity? Only if the new location was geographically close to somebody I care about. I’ve worked too fucking hard on my relationships to waste it all by distancing myself from any more of my loved ones.

30. Are you too shy/embarrassed to tell people your middle name? Negatory.

31. If not, what is it? No bc internet, but anyone who knows me well will know it anyway.

32. What day of the week is garbage day on your street? I always forget the exact day; it’s either Tuesday or Wednesday.

33. What is something new you learned today? That it’s possible to complete Dark Souls without ever levelling up.

34. Do you need a haircut? Not a full haircut, but I do need a trim. It’s been about six months since my last one and my split ends are insane.

35. Can you say the alphabet backwards? If I try, yeah.

36. When was the last time you ate popcorn? Too long ago! Probably during a D&D session.

37. Do you like eating out at restaurants? Cheap restaurants. The more expensive they get, the less I enjoy the atmosphere.

38. Is your name common? My first and middle names are semi-common, and my surname is very rare, at least in australia.

39. Do you look older or younger than your actual age? Before I transitioned, I was mistaken for up to ten years older. Now that I’ve transitioned, always younger.

40. Were you ever a Pokemon fan? Yus!

41. If you could get rid of one season, which one would you choose? Of which show?

42. Have you ever performed in front of a large group? A couple of times, yeah.

43. Are you hungry right now? Nah, I just ate.

44. Have you ever had the chicken pox? Nope. I should probably get vaccinated. 44. How often do you do laundry? About once a week.

45. Do you know anyone who snores? I do. It sucks, cause I used to not snore at all. Then randomly, about a year and a half ago, I just started snoring for no reason at all. 46. Would you make a good movie critic? I think, with some training, I could. I’m good at being analytical and critical of things. 47. What goal are you aiming for this year? 1) Move house in March/April, 2) yisit Dusty in May/June, and 3) build a computer in July when my tax return comes in! 48. What’s the farthest you’ve walked? In one day? Hard to say, I used to walk a lot but not so much anymore. 49. What does your favourite shirt look like? My current fave is just a plain black blouse. I like it because it goes with almost everything. 

... what? I’m poor, I don’t own much clothing. 50. What made you feel most accomplished in your life so far? Realising just how many people I’ve surrounded myself with who care about me. Realising that I’m going to be okay. 51. What can’t you afford but wish you could? BASIC LIVING REQUIREMENTS LIKE DECENT FOOD AND CLOTHING AND STUFF LIKE THAT

Last 10 people in your Facebook messages inbox: (excluding group chats)

1.       Moses

2.       Sage

3.       Ash

4.       Maz

5.       Kathryn

6.       Maddie

7.       Seb

8.       Chloe

9.       Tammy

10.     Ruin

1. How long have you known 1? Since the day he was born.

2. When did you meet 2? A few years ago, though we didn’t really talk til Miitomo became a thing.

3. When was the last time you saw 3? About half an hour ago.

4. Have you and 4 ever gotten into trouble together before? Oh ho ho, have we ever.

5. How old is 5? 31? I think?

6. Have you ever taken a shower at 6’s house? Nope, I’ve never been to her place at all.

7. Have you ever taken a dump at 7’s house? Haha, yeah.

8. Have you ever thought about going out with 8? Mmmmmmmaybe :3

9. What about 9? Not going out, but we’ve fooled around together.

10. Would you ever go out with 10 or ask 10 out? I actually used to want to, but now we’ve settled into a much more satisfying dynamic.

11. What’s the best memory you have had with 1? No specific ones, but watching him start animating from scratch and achieve great things has been amazing.

12. What’s 2′s lastname? nooooot my place to spill it on the internet :P

13. Would you ever take a bullet for 3? Maybe. It’s hard to say without the situation actually happening.

14. What would you do if 4 died? I’d be pretty fuckin’ sad.

15. What would you do if you found out 5 killed someone that you were related to? Depends on who it was. I’m not very close to most of my relatives.

16. Would you take care of 6 if they were sick? Of course, assuming she was close enough to do so.

17. Would you kill 7 if it was the only way for your other friends to survive? Yep. Sorry dude. If it’s any consolation, I’d say the same for literally everyone else on this list.

18. Has 8 ever cooked for you? She has not, on account of her living half a world away. But we have promised to cook for each other when we finally meet!

19. How many times have you and 9 fought? I don’t think we ever have.

20. Have you and 10 ever cried together? I don’t think at the same time, but we’ve each had times where we cried with the other, yeah.

21. Have you and 1 ever kissed? Ew. No. He’s my brother.

22. Do you ever dream of 2? They’ve been in my dreams once or twice before.

23. Is 3 a boy? Nope.

24. Does 4 have any kids? Noooope.

25. Do you want to marry 5? Nah, I don’t think we’re really suited for that. 26. How did you meet 1? it all started when my mother gave birth to him

27. What was your first impression of 2? meme master 28. Would you ever date 3? I currently am dating 3! 29. Are 4 and 5 friends? They have never met.

30. Who is 6 going out with? Nobody at all. 31. Is 7 a boy or girl? It feels weird calling him a “boy”. He is a man. 32. What would you think if 8 became your stepbrother/sister? I would wonder how the fuck her parents 1) met mine, and 2) didn’t despise each other 33. Is #9 a dork? Of course, and I love that about her.

34. What is a random fact about #10? They make incredibly tasty vanilla custard. 35. Who does #1 have a crush on? Probably his girlfriend 36. Does #2 have any stalkers? Alas, I think they do, though hopefully they’ve all fallen away by now 37. If #3 said they were in love with you, what would you say? I would say it back to them, and we would kiss, because it is already common knowledge that this is a thing.

38. Is #4 hot? My sister is an incredibly gorgeous lass and anyone she fell for would be very lucky to be with her ^_^ 39. Who is #5 best friends with? Her sister, I think. 40. Does #6 have good fashion sense? I don’t think she tries to, but she certainly doesn’t look bad or anything. Her hair is excellent for sure. 41. Is #7 single? He is not! He started dating a lovely lady recently, which was delightful to hear. Hopefully I get to meet her in a couple of weeks. 42. Would #8 and #9 make a cute couple? Ahahaha, I think they’d drive each other up the wall.

[dreamings-free]

NEW DIRECTION

How Louis Tomlinson survived the break-up of the world’s biggest boy band and became his own man

The Observer Magazine 25 Jun 2017

Photographs ALEX BRAMALL Fashion editor HELEN SEAMONS

Coming out of a dissolving boy band must be a bit like being an entrant in one of those dystopian jungle fights –a Hunger Games- style event in which bandmates are scattered across an unknown terrain and challenged to slog their lonely route back to fame. Justin Timberlake, after NSync, enjoyed the unsporting edge of natural talent and crushed his former colleagues. Robbie Williams looked supreme in the Take That scrimmage, at least until Gary Barlow circled back, gathered up the other three, and made the fight a more compelling four- on- one. By the time One Direction announced they were to go on indefinite hiatus in 2015, many of us were familiar enough with the conventions of boy-band bloodsport to start picking favourites for the coming melee.

Harry Styles – charming, a grinner – was best placed to succeed on his own. Big-lunged Zayn Malik was already out of the band by that time and had used his head start to good effect, preparing a solo album that went to No 1. Liam Payne and Niall Horan – always second-tier members – were given middling chances. And ranked last in any serious analysis, the most fitfully appreciated member of One Direction, was Louis Tomlinson. Here was a combatant you might expect to find curled up in a fox hole on the battlefield, pale and chain-smoking.

It is in roughly this position I find the 25-yearold, one afternoon earlier this summer. Slender, tracksuited, a little wan under his manicured facial hair, Tomlinson sits on a garden bench outside the photographer’s studio and rewards himself with an entire pack of cigarettes. “I know, I know,” he says of the smoking. “It’s not great. But there’s so much hurry-up-and-wait in this job. It helps me get ready to go again.”

I’ve often wondered why the fringe members of boy bands do this to themselves. Why they gather themselves to “go again”. As Tomlinson acknowledges, in One Direction he was seen by some as “forgettable, to a certain degree”. “The others have always been… Like Niall, for example. He’s the most lovely guy in the world. Happy-go-lucky Irish, no sense of arrogance. And he’s fearless. There are times I’ve thought: ‘I’d have a bit of that.’ Zayn, back in the day. He could relate to me on a nerves level. In the first year we were both the least confident. But Zayn has a fantastic voice and for him it was always about owning that. Liam always had a good stage presence, same as Harry, they’ve both got that ownership. Harry comes across very cool. Liam’s all about getting the crowd going, doing a bit of dancing…” And then there’s you. “And then there’s me.” Tracks from Tomlinson’s solo record have been playing inside the studio. They’re modest, rather lovely pop songs that in their quiet way seem to acknowledge his underdog status. Tomlinson lights another cig. “You know I didn’t sing a single solo on the X Factor,” he says, recalling the time back in 2010, when One Direction were first put together as a band on the ITV reality show. “A lot of people can take the piss out of that. But when you actually think about how that feels, standing on stage every single week, thinking: ‘What have I really done to contribute here? Sing a lower harmony that you can’t really hear in the mix?” He guesses, smiling wryly, that in those months he was best known as “The kid wearing espadrilles, stood in’t back.”

Not the best singer, not the high-energy guy, not the dude, Tomlinson discovered he was the one in the band who was most tuned into backstage logistics – the one who paid attention when “the 20th approval form” was passed around for a signature. “And if there was any bad news that needed giving to the label I’d always be designated to have the argument.” Later this would lead to Tomlinson founding a small record label of his own, Triple String, and to starting a side project managing a girl band. In his day job with One Direction, meanwhile, he toured the world, released five albums and amassed a large, equal-parts fortune like the rest of the boys. Somewhere en route, Tomlinson says, he found his feet as a performer. “In the last year of One Direction I was probably the most confident I ever was. And then it was: ‘OK, hiatus!’”

Tomlinson argued against it, he says, when the band first sat down to discuss separation. “It wasn’t necessarily a nice conversation. I could see where it was going.” Tomlinson remembers his instinctive assumption being simple. He would step away – try writing for other people, keep his label going, wait the “two years, five years, whatever it be” until One Direction reformed. “If you’d asked me a year or 18 months ago: ‘Are you going to do anything as a solo artist?’ I’d have said absolutely not.”

What changed? If the management stuff made you happy, I say, why not sit back and focus on that? “But then I’d be conceding,” he says. Conceding to who? To what? He waves his hand in the air. He could mean anything:

Niall is the most lovely guy, Zayn has the voice, Harry is very cool, Liam gets the crowd going… And then there’s me

I honestly think they’ll write books about One Direction fans. They are so fanatical. The intensity. It’s remarkable

history, bandmates, doubters, the press. Tomlinson is quiet for a while and eventually says: “I’m trying to work out why it is that I’m [doing this], now that you’ve asked that question.” He fidgets and trials a few answers that run out of steam. “It’s frustrating, because I know what I want to say and I can’t articulate it.” He pats for his lighter. The odds are against this tilt, Tomlinson seems to understand. But as we start to talk through his reasons for at least trying, I find myself hoping that this Last Directioner makes an unlikely go of it after all.

pop industry has an ineREASON ONE . TH E luctable momentum, and the star who begins something ( like a skier inching off a hilltop) can quickly find themselves bound to ride out whatever thrills and trials comes next. Tomlinson gives the example of how he first became famous. Born in Doncaster in 1991 he was raised by his mother, Johannah Deakin, and later also by her new partner Mark Tomlinson. He was 16 when he went to his first X

Factor audition. Prompt rebuff. A year later he made it into the audition process, but still nowhere near the part where ambitious young singers are briskly embraced or condemned by that great gatekeeper of celebrity, Simon Cowell. In 2010 Tomlinson, twice unlucky, gave the auditions a final try.

“I told myself I’ve just got to get to Simon, get his opinion, that’s all my ambition was. Then all of a sudden everything changed. To my friends in Doncaster I would always say [getting into the band] was the most incredible thing that happened to me. And it was. But it happened when I was already having the best year of my life. I was 17, 18, just started driving, didn’t need fake ID any more, going to house parties. That’s the time. That’s the age. And to a certain degree… ‘Having it taken away’ is the wrong phrase. But there was a price to pay.”

He says his current efforts as a soloist came about in similar fashion. In 2016, Tomlinson had become a father. (His son, Freddie, “who I love so much”, was born after a brief relationship with a Californian stylist called Briana Jungwirth.) He had some other personal matters to work through and in the summer he went on holiday to Las Vegas to blow off steam. At a club the American DJ Steve Aoiki was playing. Tomlinson, giddy with delight from Aoiki’s set, suggested to the DJ they try writing something together. In career terms, he had inched off the hill again, without necessarily considering the gradient of the slope.

A few months later, Tomlinson says, a single he’d written with Aoiki was being rolled out for release through One Direction’s old record label, Syco. Tomlinson was booked in to perform it on live TV. “And I was, like: ‘Did I really think this through?’”

Which leads Tomlinson to reason two. He’s well aware he was fast-tracked into his music career. That, as a part of One Direction, he was only a piece of a “heavy machine”. And as a self-aware northerner, from a proudly working class family, this has left Tomlinson with residual guilt to answer about wealth and status that do not feel to him fully earned. “And I know, I know it sounds ungrateful. But I think about a man, on a nine-to-five, working his arse off for six months so he can go to his family and say: ‘Guys, I’m taking you to Disneyland.’ That moment… I’ll never have that in my family life. And I’ve worked hard. But I’ve never worked hard, not like that.”

Tomlinson says he has already sweated more for this record than any before. When you’re putting together material as a soloist, he says, you quickly learn that those hot-shot collaborators who once dribbled to work with One Direction no longer pick up the phone

so readily. “I couldn’t say to you now that I could definitely get a superstar writer in a session with me. And I understand that.” Tomlinson adds, with no real vinegar: “Harry won’t struggle with any of that.”

In their One Direction days, no question, Styles got the most attention. But all the boys had their devotees and Tomlinson wants to prove to his own fans – reason three – that he’s been worth the backing all these years. “I honestly think they’ll write books about One Direction fans,” Tomlinson says. “Because they are so fanatical. The intensity. It’s remarkable.”

Tomlinson cannot talk about it with me, not without getting into muddy legal waters, but there was recently a difficult episode involving a small crowd of fans at an airport in LA. He was travelling with his partner, Eleanor Calder, who is viewed with some distrust by the fiercest corps of Louis fans. Video footage seems to show Calder being surrounded and attacked by a group of girls. Tomlinson, unable to discuss the matter, says to me more generally that he hopes his new music will reveal to fans a more complete version of himself than before. “Honestly, it’s crazy. It’s hard for a lot of people who are fanatical to believe that you are a real entity and a person.”

Which brings us to reason four. Reason four Tomlinson discusses with caution. Reason four he enshrouds with disclaimers: that it is not his intention to tell “a sob story”, that “I don’t like people feeling sorry for me”. Reason four concerns his mum.

Johannah Deakin was diagnosed with leukaemia in early 2016. Tomlinson had been worried his luck would run out; that having been “dealt that amazing hand” to squeak into the last berth in One Direction, he was due some sort of equalising blow. And he gives a bleak little laugh when he recalls where he was when the terrible phone call came. “At Jamie Vardy’s wedding of all places. Talk about your places, for something super-traumatic. My mum told me, uh, yeah, that she was definitely terminal.”

They were unusually close. He recalls how she was often one step ahead “because she had the password to my email”. It was an intimacy he attributes to them being close in age. “I remember the day I lost my virginity. I hadn’t even told any of my mates and I was, like: ‘Mum? I know this is really weird. But I’ve got to tell you…’ I remember thinking this is a bizarre conversation to be having with your mother. But it’s testament to how comfortable she made me.”

When Deakin died, in December 2016, Tomlinson was only days away from the live gig he’d agreed to do on the X Factor. “I remember saying to her: ‘Mum, how the fuck do you expect me to do this now?’ And she didn’t swear much, my mum. She’d always tell me off for swearing. And this time she was like: ‘You’ve got to fucking do it, it’s as simple as that.’ It was football manager, team talk stuff.’” The footage of Tomlinson’s performance that weekend is hard to watch. When he first appears on the X Factor stage he looks rigid, almost plastic, with grief. He’s clearly able to lose himself in the three-minute drama of a pop song. And after that the colour drains right back out of his face.

Tomlinson smokes for a bit. He says: “I’m not gonna claim this is all for me mum. But it was definitely… It was…”

He thinks. Throughout his life, he says, his mum always had greater belief in him than he did. “Sometimes my reservation, or my confidence, might have prevented me from doing something. And I’ve needed a mum in the past to kick me up the arse and go: ‘You’re doing it.’”

The boy bander has his reasons, then. “I’ve enjoyed this,” he says. “An opportunity to talk super openly. Not, y’know, answer questions about who my favourite superhero is. I don’t feel I get that many chances.”

The pile of cigarette butts in front of him has mounted to quite a height. Tomlinson, seeming to notice it for the first time, mutters: “Sorry. I’ve been chaining.” His mum hated smoking, he says. Then he smiles. “Though I remember she had the occasional cigarette herself.”

He taps his lighter on the table and asks what I make of everything he’s said. “Do you think your readers are still gonna wonder: ‘Why doesn’t he just not do it?’”

I’m not sure, I tell him, trying to be honest. But let’s see.

Louis’s new single ‘Back To You’ featuring Bebe Rexha and Digital Farm Animals is coming soon

[seigaku9th-blog]

japan week three ➜ sea opening premiere event

on july 22nd, i went to the sea opening movie premiere & cast talk event in osaka. i've been curious about the movie since it was first revealed that mario (7th eiji) & wada (6th tezuka) would star in a movie together, so i was thankful to get the chance to see it as soon as possible!

but of course, seeing mario & wada in person was even more of an incentive. i actually had no idea that saeki daichi, who you probably know as iwatooshi in toumyu, would also be there! i've developed some sort of stockholm syndrome towards tsubasa, ryo & him since i really enjoyed the first toumyu cast, so it was a lovely bonus.

i saw mario earlier this month in kurosute already, but seeing him as himself was just that much more amazing. i felt less starstruck this time, yay!! he feels like he’s constantly tense, it's especially funny to see after i met ikkei earlier this month, who is so loud and extra and talkative and comfortable, while mario has all of his attitude and spontaneous burns and ruthless honesty while also being so quiet and slightly awkward... i love this strange child

wada is. such a star. he's so big and charismatic and funny... he literally ran & slid unto the stage... and his smile. god. Father... protect me... also he's twice mario's width

i think it took a record time of 10 minutes for them to start talking about tennis LOL daichi is the one who brought it up!! i'm convinced he's a fan now, i remember him doing the same thing in an interview with tsune & mario in a recent cast size issue... they made oujisama jokes and talked about the audition process i was like yo dudes let it go (no, don't, please continue.)

since there's a baseball scene in the movie, wada brought up the Unnoficial Tenimyu Graduates Baseball Association, and said that tatsunari (7th kaidoh) & him formed a battery together!! i was so !!! at them mentioning him lmao. when i got home, i went to look at those old pictures of everyone playing baseball together and noticed that it was true, there’s pictures of wada in a catcher uniform, tatsunari pitching & them sitting together?? (here & here)

while talking about this, wada kept making a swinging motion with his arm and the MC was like WHAT IS THAT and they were just like tennis... tennis.

they asked mario how it felt to have turned 24 and i think wada had a midlife crisis in that moment... they also um... talked about how wada & mario went to a public bath together... (me sweating and it's not bcuz of japan's summer heat)

at some point the MC asked wada something and mario just started talking over him and wada was like HE WAS TALKING TO ME!! i was very emotional to have witnessed classic 7th asshatery in person...

we were allowed to take pictures of them in a short little photo op as a form of promotion, a bit like when 9th first wore their costumes at TSCPP, remember? they were so extra in their poses for the other sections of the crowd, but when it got to my section mario kept leaning on wada's shoulder i was emotional and also my pictures are so terrible and shakey i wasn't prepared for this

we were given a photobook, the making of DVD & a clearfile for free! it's amazing! the photobook is so gorgeous! i also bought every single bromide set because i couldn't choose... i can't believe this event only cost 6000 yen considering everything & everyone involved...

on to the movie itself! i want to keep this spoiler-free since i really want everyone to get to experience it when the DVD comes out. i will try to buy & share it once the time comes.

i went into this screening with incredibly low expectations, and came out utterly impressed. i actually genuinely adored the movie, even beyond the actors involved. i feel like the director inspired himself from xavier dolan's movies honestly hehehe

i had a roller coaster of perspective towards mario & wada's characters, where as soon as the movie was announced i was praying for The Romance (cue the daimao jokes) and then with the trailer i was worried it'd be yet another classic edgy queerbaiting pseudo-gay-but-actually-not-really movie (very common with movies featuring 2.5D actors) and then... Ah.

mario's character is textually gay and in romantic love with wada's!!!!!!! i know this is a spoiler, but whatever, it's too important!! and it was so beautifully done. i’m actually glad the movie wasn’t marketed as ~BL~ because it did feel more sincere than that.

i was so impressed and incredibly touched by mario's performance, as well as by his character. being used to him playing cheerful/eccentric/silly characters, it was so interesting to see him playing a more subdued and believable character. i guess you could compare it with his performance in udagawachou and see just how much he has improved as an actor.

mario portrayed his character with so much loneliness and melancholy but such pure and open emotions, it hurt but it was so beautiful. as a gay person, i was really able to connect with his performance, and i was so happy to see mario playing him.

as for wada, it's hard to talk about him without spoiling things, but aaah. i definitely had a crush on him but i think that's the sole purpose of every character ever played by any tezuka actor ever

by the end of the movie, i think everyone in the theater was crying & sniffling, me included... i had to try to not laugh thru my own tears over the people who were literally sobbing... me whenever i see mario's face

that'll be all for now. feel free to ask me questions off anon if you'd like more details/spoilers about the movie :D!!

[6-v-6]

1-100. Just give it to me all

ALNLSNGLSG ARE YOU SERIOUS OMFG im so sorry this is going to be Long

1. Spotify, SoundCloud, or Pandora? I’ll say Pandora just because it’s the only one I’ve actually ever used. If I used Spotify I’d probably like it the most but I don’t use those apps so

2. is your room messy or clean?VERY VERY MESSY I need to clean it but im lazy

3. what color are your eyes?Brown!

4. do you like your name? why?My birth name? No. And that’s why I changed it ahahahaha yes I like the name Jae since i chose it myself. It’s short and simple

5. what is your relationship status?Single 

6. describe your personality in 3 words or lessContradictory ....... Situational 

7. what color hair do you have?Currently it’s blue c: Natural color is a lightish brown

8. what kind of car do you drive? color?I don’t have a car nor a license :/ I want a motorbike tho ! a black one

9. where do you shop?I shop pretty much exclusively online. Buyma or Amazon, typically

10. how would you describe your style?I’ve been told that I dress like a “bad boy”. I like leather and black and ripped skinny jeans but I do like casual stuff too. Like hoodies and sweats

11. favorite social media accountIf this is talking about my own social media accounts, then this one right here on tumblr. I’m not very active anywhere else

12. what size bed do you have?uuuuhhhh I don’t know proper terminology but it is small

13. any siblings?Yup! I have an older sister and a younger brother

14. if you can live anywhere in the world where would it be? why?Japan probably? It’s super pretty and I’ve always wanted to visit

15. favorite snapchat filter?hmm I don’t use snapchat that much but probably the flower crown one it’s cute

16. favorite makeup brand(s)I don’t wear makeup tbh so i dunnooooo 

17. how many times a week do you shower?7 I don’t ever skip showering 

18. favorite tv show?Psych? I also like the 100 currently

19. shoe size?asglnasg... god .... im a 6 in mens nd like a 7 in womens i have small feet

20. how tall are you?ALNSLGNSG im trusting no one has read this far so it’s okay to disclose this info...exposin myself.. im 5′2″ ............

21. sandals or sneakers?Sneakers !! I don’t wear sandals like ever

22. do you go to the gym?Yes! Only recently, actually! I just bought a gym membership with my friend and we’ve been going 3 times a week c:

23. describe your dream dateoh geez I havent really thought about this? I’m not very romantic or anything (im on the ace spectrum) but... i dunno. I think it’d be nice to just have fun together. An amusement park maybe? And just a lot of hand holding and smiles

24. how much money do you have in your wallet at the moment?Upwards of 100 bcuz my mom keeps giving me money even tho i dont use it

25. what color socks are you wearing?HAH im not wearing any 

26. how many pillows do you sleep with?1-2 it depends on the night

27. do you have a job? what do you do?I work at the cafeteria in my school. I run the register and help to stock items and also serve food to people

28. how many friends do you have?wow this is a Tragic question. Online I have quite a few! In person i literally have....... 2. Barely that lol. More like one

29. whats the worst thing you have ever done?Killed my sister’s fish (on accident)

30. whats your favorite candle scent?I’ve never thought about this or really smelled many candles to begin with :( something mild though. Maybe a mild vanilla??

31. 3 favorite boy namesuuhghg 1) Cain 2) Luka 3) Eden

32. 3 favorite girl names1) Erin 2) Rayna 3) Kira

33. favorite actor?I rly dont give a crap about actors if I’m being honest lmao. Uhh choi minho :)

34. favorite actress?Lupita Nyong’o?? she’s gorgeous

35. who is your celebrity crush?I don’t have a crush on him but does Lee Taemin count

36. favorite movie?Princess Mononoke

37. do you read a lot? whats your favorite book?I read ff more than books these days. I don’t have a fav book

38. money or brains?is this what I prefer? Money binch if I had money I wouldn’t need brains also I’m dumb anyways 

39. do you have a nickname? what is it?No I do not

40. how many times have you been to the hospital?Twice? Maybe 3 times

41. top 10 favorite songscheck out shinee’s entire discography 

42. do you take any medications daily?Nope

43. what is your skin type? (oily, dry, etc)i ?? have no idea?? I guess oily? My skin doesn’t get dry so

44. what is your biggest fear?Probably flying. I hate planes

45. how many kids do you want?Exactly none

46. whats your go to hair style?? uh side-swept? I have no idea what to call it just what my hair normally looks like I guess

47. what type of house do you live in? (big, small, etc)A moderately sized house

48. who is your role model?Not to be cheesy but Lee Taemin also Kim Kibum also Choi Minho also Kim Jonghyun also Lee Jinki

49. what was the last compliment you received?that I’m great? lol

50. what was the last text you sent?’okay’ to my mom lmao

51. how old were you when you found out santa wasn’t real?ARE YOU TELLING ME SANTA ISNT REAL??? okay but for real who remembers the age they find out omg .. i was Young so idk maybe like 13

52. what is your dream car?ohhh boy a lambo for sure

53. opinion on smoking?Gross. Smells terrible

54. do you go to college?I do indeed. I’m gonna be a senior ya’ll

55. what is your dream job?To be a writer I guess. I don’t really have a dream job

56. would you rather live in rural areas or the suburbs?Suburbs? I dunno. I like living in the city I’d probably die of boredom in some rural area

57. do you take shampoo and conditioner bottles from hotels?hell yea binch

58. do you have freckles?nope!

59. do you smile for pictures?Not for selfies but for other pictures yes I feel like it’s weird or rude not to

60. how many pictures do you have on your phone?like 300 something

61. have you ever peed in the woods?what the fuck?? lol?? no??

62. do you still watch cartoons?does voltron count :/

63. do you prefer chicken nuggets from Wendy’s or McDonalds?neither if I’m being honest but Wendy’s I guess. I never ever eat at mcdonalds

64. Favorite dipping sauce?barbeque sauce?

65. what do you wear to bed?An oversized shirt and boxers lol

66. have you ever won a spelling bee?no i cant say I have

67. what are your hobbies?Writing, sometimes. Playing video games. Bein unhealthy

68. can you draw?Naaaah

69. do you play an instrument?No :( I wish I did but I never learned any

70. what was the last concert you saw?SHINEE WORLD V IN LA!!!!!!!!! BEST DAY OF MY LIFE!!!!!!!!!!!

71. tea or coffee?Coffee bcuz i h8 tea

72. Starbucks or Dunkin Donuts?Well the coffee at dunkin donuts is worlds better so dunkin donuts

73. do you want to get married?no

74. what is your crush’s first and last initial?i dont have a crush

75. are you going to change your last name when you get married?’when’ lol i dont plan to get married

76. what color looks best on you?black, in my opinion

77. do you miss anyone right now?no not really

78. do you sleep with your door open or closed?open because if it’s closed my cat will scratch on it incessantly until she’s let in

79. do you believe in ghosts?hell yeah dude

80. what is your biggest pet peeve?when people like, dance around a subject. I prefer it when people are straightforward. Especially if they want something from me

81. last person you called`Honest to god I can’t remember. I don’t ever call people lmao so probably my mom

82. favorite ice cream flavor?I like Rocky Road a lot!

83. regular oreos or golden oreos?regular. Golden oreos are a lesser creation

84. chocolate or rainbow sprinkles?RAINBOW. GIMME DAT GAY SHIT

85. what shirt are you wearing?It’s just a plain white t-shirt

86. what is your phone background?ot5

87. are you outgoing or shy?Horribly, annoyingly shy although I can mask it pretty well

88. do you like it when people play with your hair?yes :D

89. do you like your neighbors?lmao I don’t know them?? They arent noisy though so yes I like them since they aren’t annoying or anything

90. do you wash your face? at night? in the morning?Both. I take a shower in the morning and wash it then. And then do a skincare routine at night

91. have you ever been high?no.... not that I know of. One time I took nyquil though and it Fucked Me Up i felt high but idk if I was or if that’s even possible

92. have you ever been drunk?nope. I’m not a huge fan of the idea of getting drunk. I don’t like letting my guard down like that so if I ever do it’ll be when I’m alone

93. last thing you ate?a mento 

94. favorite lyrics right nowthe entire lyrics to So Far Away by yoongi

95. summer or winter?WINTER. I hate summer fashion i like being able to wear my jackets and jeans and not Die of heat stroke

96. day or night?night I guess just bcuz I can be alone

97. dark, milk, or white chocolate?dark chocolate is superior in every way

98. favorite month?uhm.. December? Because its the end of the year and I’m on break then and Christmas and cold weather and hot chocolate

99. what is your zodiac signI’m a virgo 

100. who was the last person you cried in front of?uhhhHHHH I really make it a Goal to never cry in front of people since im just super uncomfortable with that and honestly dont feel comfortable enough around anyone to do that. My sister walked in on me when I was crying once though so her I guess

[lostinyourears]

Super Viernes Arena Mexico Report! 7/7/2017

This week featured Block B of the Universal Tournament, which is all I covered from this week’s show. This show had more singles matches than CMLL has in a normal week of broadcasted shows.

The undercard had some decent talent on it as well, Blue Panther continued to feud with Trump loving Sam Adonis and the continuation of the Vangellys/Pierroth feud which will have a hair vs hair match I think next week.  

Seeding Battle Royal featuring : Mistico, Ultimo Guerrero, Niebla Roja, Mephisto, Ephesto, Soberano Jr., Diamante Azul and Marco Corleone

Who’s who?

Mistico is in his signature white mask/pants with gold trim, Ultimo Guerrero is the maskless older Latino talent with long black hair, Niebla Roja has red boots, white pants and the back of his mask is red, Mephisto is in camo pants/mask with black hanging cloth coming off the back of his mask, Ephesto has a red devil’s mask with horns and has his name on his shirt, Soberano Jr is wearing his signature blue pants/man, Diamante Azul is the stouter guy in blue with a diamond on his forehead, and lastly we have Marco the maskless jacked white dude.

How’s the match?

These seeding battle royals are always just fine, but easily skippable and you aren’t really missing anything. There is a group powerbomb on Soberano Jr. and Marco Corleone gets teamed up on, those are really the 2 moments of note in the brief match. 

Ephesto(Mexican National Trios Champion) vs Diamante Azul(Occidente Heavyweight Champion)

Who’s who?

Diamante Azul is the dude in blue mask/attire and famously won the mask vs mask match in CMLL of importance back in March when he unmasked Rush’s father Pierroth(Not the real Pierroth who wrestled ages ago or his son, Pierroth Jr. I think this current Pierroth bought the name rights from the family though).He wasn’t suppose to be in this, but was a last minute addition when Atlantis was injured. His belt actually is inactive/retired, but apparently good enough to get into the tournament.

While in the devil mask we have Ephesto 1/3rd of the Mexican National Trios, but probably the 3rd most powerful member of his stable Los Hijos del Infierno(the sons of hell).

How’s the match?

It was pretty good for a first round match. Diamante Azul is a guy who I don’t love, but he can impress with strength and the odd dive. Still, his suicide dive is awful. I’m in the camp that if you can’t do a move well, don’t do it at all. His suicide dive always feels a foot too short and makes both him and the guy receiving it look off. Ephesto didn’t really impress, but he wasn’t really supposed to. He was obvious first round fodder in this tournament and he played that role excellently making Azul look strong going into the second round. 

Marco Corleone(CMLL World Heavyweight Champion) vs Ultimo Guerrero(NWA World Historic Middleweight Champion)

Who’s who? 

Marco Corleone is the taller/whiter guy in red briefs and kneepads. He worked briefly in the US as Mark Jindrak and recently won the CMLL Heavyweight title in a multi-man match to crown a new champion after it was vacated when the last champion was fired for vandalism... strangely the enough vandalising Marco’s opponent's car.

Ultimo Guerrero has long black hair and is wearing black/blue pants. He has been NWA WHM Champion for a long while now winning the belt off of La Sombra before CMLL 82nd anniversary back in September 2015. 

How’s the match?

Brief and mostly uneventful, we do get 2 top rope crossbodies from Marco. So that’s something to look for, but the second one costs him the match. I don’t really like that because it just logically doesn’t make much sense imo, though that might be a little nitpicky. 

Mephisto(CMLL World Welterweight & Mexican National Trios Champion) vs Mistico(CMLL World Trios Champion)

Who’s Who?

Mistico is in his signature white and gold trim attire and mask. His is one 3rd of Sky Team with Valiente & Volador Jr. who have been climbing the all time reign ranks of the CMLL World Trios belt, being the 2nd longest reign since

How’s the match?

Good, probably the best of all the first round matches and MOTN contender. Mistico really stole the show tonight and made a great case as to why he should be getting more singles competition, though perhaps CMLL wants to protect Sky Team as they seem to be climbing towards being the longest reigning CMLL Trio champs in the belts 24 year history. If this match isn’t MOTN, the other one would probably the second round match with Mistico.

Niebla Roja(CMLL World Light Heavyweight Champion) vs Soberano Jr.(Mexican National Welterweight Champion)

Who’s who?

The link should start you looking at Niebla Roja in gold/white attire his boots and the back of his mask. He is currently embroiled in a feud with Ultimo Guerrero, after Niebla left Ultimo’s rudo stable Los Guerreros. He was crowned CMLL Lightweight champ after the last champion La Mascara was fired for the same vandalism mentioned earlier. 

Soberano Jr. on the other hand is in the blue mask and pants and won his belt about 2 months ago off of

Rey Cometa. Soberano has been doing nothing but win. Having won both Copa de Junior and Gran Alternativa this year, 2 of CMLL’s yearly tournaments. Though one is a rookies tournament and the other is a tag tournament it’s still a really good sign CMLL see’s him as a raising stock within the company.

How’s the match?

Good, both these guys know what they are doing. Soberano Jr. continues to impress every chance he can. The biggest issue of this match is a common complaint for me with these CMLL tournament matches in that it’s shorter than I want it to be. This match could have stole the night with a few more minutes. 

Diamante Azul(Occidente Heavyweight Champion) vs Ultimo Guerrero(NWA World Historic Middleweight Champion)

Who’s Who?

Covered them earlier, but for the basics Diamante is in blue with a mask while Ultimo is maskless with long black hair in black and blue pants. Both have hair their belts for a long time though Diamante Azul’s is actually inactive/none promoted by CMLL at this point he was a stand in because Atlantis was injured and couldn’t take part.

How’s the match?

Good, these two guys mesh pretty perfectly character wise. Massive tecnico Diamante Azul vs dastardly rudo leader Ultimo Guerrero writes itself. Diamante makes up for his weak suicide dive from the earlier round by having a fantastic stage dive in this match up. 

Niebla Roja(CMLL World Light Heavyweight Champion) vs Mistico(CMLL World Trios Champion)

Who’s who?

This is probably the most any 2 people will look alike tonight. Niebla Roja though has red books and red parts on his mask. Mistico on the other hand has gold trim and boots. Mistico is a much longer running champions, with Roja recently getting his belt from some backstage drama at CMLL that saw 2 talents getting fired.  

How’s the match?

Good for the most part, Mistico continued to impress. I feel like he really wanted to show how good he was tonight so the next yearly event he’ll get even farther. Both men got some good offense in, my only real complaint : the ending was hit less perfectly than it needs to be. If Niebla is going to use the Canadian Destroyer as his finish it needs more impact than the one here did. It also came rather abruptly to Mistico mounting a comeback, though I suppose that’s the point. 

Niebla Roja(CMLL World Light Heavyweight Champion) vs Ultimo Guerrero(NWA World Historic Middleweight Champion)

Who’s who?

Niebla Roja is wearing red boots and a mask while Ultimo is maskless with long black hair. This is a continuation of the two’s feud over the last 2 months or so, when Niebla Roja left the rudo group Ultimo leads Los Guerreros Laguneros. Niebla wears a mask design that is very close to Ultimo’s old mask design which he isn’t really cool with now that they aren’t stablemates. Ultimo Guerrero has had his belt much much longer than Niebla about 2 years longer so he is definitely the favorite in this match up, he also has much more experience, being a veteran while Roja is relatively new in comparison.

How’s the match?

Good, though much more one sided than it needed to be or should have been. It’s hard to complain too much, because this isn’t the blowoff match obviously. The match was pretty much all Ultimo though with him schooling Roja throughout. 

It’s almost akin to Undertaker vs CM Punk at 2009(?) HiaC. I like Undertaker so seeing him beat some young punk up is fun, but when it’s one sided and the grizzled vet looks like he hardly broke a sweat it’s not as fun as say Taker vs CM Punk WM29 where they had a much better much more competitive bout. 

Still, this match does have it’s bright spots. Particularly a much better looking Canadian Destroyer out of Niebla Roja than the one he did to tend the last round over Mistico. Plus, after the match there was a promo and Ultimo vs Niebla are certain they are having a mask vs hair match. Because of that and the possibility that Roja will shave Ultimo’s head at a later date makes the one sided affair here seem like a chapter 3 downfall of Roja before being victorious later on. 

Final thoughts

I think it was a pretty decent block B, in fact I’d say it was better because no one who got into the second round felt like someone who dragged their matches down... no offense to shocker last week. He can be good, he just wasn’t in Block A, probably having the worst first and worst second round matches. 

I don’t really like Ultimo vs Volador Jr. in the finals. Ultimo has already won this tournament twice since it’s inception in 2009, the first and only person to win it more than once. So it just makes Volador Jr. seem like an obvious winner in the finals, which will mean Sky Team will have won twice in a row with Valiente winning last year. I think Mistico vs Volador Jr. would have been a much better choice, but you don’t always get what you want. 

I’d suggest both Mistico matches if nothing else, a great performance by him in both his rounds. I’m excited to see Roja vs Ultimo, but I wasn’t impressed by either guy as much as Mistico in this show. I’m really starting top hope Pierroth gets all his sons under the Ingobernables banner soon. He already has Rush and if you added Dragon Lee and Mistico, Mexico might start having a Los Ingobernables worthy of rivaling the Japanese brand. 

Highlights (2 or 3 have pretty bad green static) : 

Super Viernes Arena Mexico Highlights 7/7/2017

[shorelineshelter]

King of This Hologram: Fallout 3

(Warning: Graphic description of past torture, sexual slavery, and other various nasty things.)

They’d been traveling together for two years. Charon had started to shake the years of experience telling him to just stay silent. To just be there to look mean. He found himself more than a little interested in his boss’s past. He’s all too aware that every scar has a story. Especially for folks with histories like they both did.

Rivet City wasn’t one of their standard stopping points, but it was the closest (and softest) bed KG had access to. Said human was gradually winning over the town. At first they wrote him off like everyone else in his life had done before. KG was intent on changing their minds.

In all honesty, KG could charm the mutated birds out of the trees if the put his mind to it. Even Charon himself was captivated (not that he would admit it.) with him. He perked up when he heard some half-hearted shouting, relaxing when he caught sight of KG trotting over to where he was waiting. The smoothskin waved, just being sure to catch his attention.

Charon stands, nodding to the man. Together they made their way back to the hotel. KG was already unfastening the gun holster Charon had insisted he buy. Just because he was a poor shot didn’t mean KG could do without any firearm. It falls onto the covers with a muffled thump.

Charon finishes securing the door, then turns to see KG undoing the buttons on his sweat soaked shirt, shrugging out of it. The ghoul bites his tongue, ignoring the warmth setting under his tough hide. KG was just comfortable with him and not to mention, it was totally against his few remaining morals to get into anything less than a professional relationship. So what if they shared a bed sometimes (most of the time), and a bath once (or twice)? There were still those last few lines he hadn’t, that he wouldn’t cross.

That didn’t mean he wasn’t allowed to ask him things. He wanted to know about this and it provided a solid distraction from the dangerously romantic thoughts that had been plaguing him recently.

“Tell me about the scars, boss.” Nailed it. Perfect boner killing material.

“Which one?” the man replied as he flopped onto the bed.

“All of them?”

“Pick a place to start then.” his voice is masked by the bedclothes, but he’s watching Charon for his reaction out of the corner of his eye. There’s an unsaid, ‘finish what you started.’ in that gaze.

Instead of trusting his steadiness of his voice, Charon steps over and hesitates for a moment before brushing his knuckles over the largest of the scars on KG’s back. It arches over his left shoulder blade, wider than his admittedly massive palm.

KG turns his face so he’s not speaking through a mouthful of sheets. “That one was probably the last major one from my first trainer. He was showing me off to Starr, publicly mind you, so I decided to...embarrass him a little. Well…” he scratches at his arm, “A lot. I bucked him off and threw him onto his back, then walked off whistling some jingle I used to hear all the time out west.”

Charon blinks for a moment, “You’re not from the Capital?”

“Naw.” he hums, fiddling with a loose thread on the covers. “I was from a vault out in the NCR. Was only here for two weeks when I got snatched. Said I looked exotic.” he flourishes a little, voice tinging bitterly. “It’s why you couldn’t figure out how I’d never dealt with mirelurks before. Kinda like how I’m sure you’ve never had to tangle with geckos.”

“I’ve been to the NCR before. Shot plenty of them.”

“Oh shit, really?” KG perks up, excited for a moment before realizing something, sobering. “I guess the contract can travel easily, huh…”

Charon nods, shrugging a little. “But we’re getting off track.”

The man looks sheepish, and chuckles. “Sorry. Anyway, dude was out of his mind pissed. He’d always had a gift for knives, so he took this wicked looking one and skinned me like I was a damn molerat or something. They kept it clean, thank fuck, but Starr was livid that he’d done so much damage to me. I’d only been there for two months so it was like he was still trying to keep me nice. After that, he stopped caring about them leaving marks on me.”

Charon’s hands clenched, but curiosity compelled him to delve deeper. Thick fingers tapped another scar above it. It was only a fourth of the size, but looked much deeper. The center was puckered in, as if it hadn’t healed as smoothly as the larger one. Small round blemishes were peppered around this, and many of the others. Cigarettes, maybe heated rebar? Call it an educated guess on his part.

“Third trainer.” the detached manner in which he spoke made it clear Charon wasn’t the first to wonder. Why had people asked about it? Were they actually concerned, or just bored clients between rounds?

“She’s who gave me most of them. Mean old dame liked leaving marks, and Starr was happy to let her at this point. I was starting to piss him off, but it made him want to break me all the more.” KG rolled onto his side, back still to Charon. From this angle, he could better make out the curving scar on his hip, but they’d get to that one later. “I...heh, I sucker punched her.”

“You hit your trainer?”

“Fuck yeah I did! Gotta make it clear I’m not some mutt to be tamed.The center, where it’s deepest was a filleting knife. She drove it in about half way and it snapped off. She used what was left of it to strip the skin around it. It took weeks for me to recover the use of that arm.” KG drawled, his western territory accent creeping in at the edges of his voice.

Charon knew this wouldn’t be pleasant, but he pushed down the wave of nausea and said, “The little one, other shoulder?” Fuck, his voice was uneven with that restrained disgust. Not at KG. Never at KG. At all the trainers that flayed him open like he was a hunk of meat. That had burned him, probably for nothing. That had forced him to his knees, giving him a crash course on servicing clients. At those clients, bending him over filthy tables, chairs, beds, anything in reach and fucking him until he bled.

And if he was being honest, at himself for those late nights where he found himself in the same bed, struggling to control his urges to loom over the man who’d found the humanity he’d thought he lost and brought it out from wherever he’d locked it away. To not give in to the traitorous voice demanding he capture KG’s mouth, licking his way into it. To pull the human into his arms before- oh. KG had been talking, hadn’t he? Charon chided himself for getting lost in his own head, again.

“I, uh...didn’t catch that.” he admits.

The man gives him an all too knowing smile, “I figured as much. It’s just from a bad gecko bite when I was little.”

It was such an innocent explanation. Much more run of the mill than he’d been anticipating. Charon can’t contain a small snort from how out of place it seemed.

He can hear the grin in KG’s voice, “Yeah, they can’t all be horror stories from the sex trade.”

“Just most of them.”

“Pretty much, Char’. Where to next?”

They continued like this for some time. KG hadn’t exaggerated when he’d haid the third trainer was the worst. Only a small knot of scars under the gecko bite wasn’t credited to her, so far. (‘First trainer, thought it was easy to hide it there.’) All of the burns were her doing. The long, neatly placed slashes to his lower back. Dozens of thin marks, almost like tallies that he hadn’t seen until he’d looked closer.

“So, what about your second trainer?” Charon asked at some point.

“Oh, yeah. He was the first ghoul I met. He didn’t leave a mark on me...not one that lasted anyway. He didn’t believe in scarring his ‘projects’. He carried his tools with him at all times. A crop and a club.”

Charon’s blood ran cold. “Ivan Popov.”

KG suddenly looked over his shoulder at Charon. “Yeah, how-” the words die in his throat as he sees the tension in his companion’s shoulders.

There had always been a gap keeping their histories, their experiences with training apart. Charon was trained for war, KG was trained for sex. With one name, now there was a bridge linking them together, and it was terrifying to realize a man like Popov had also survived the bombs. Had carried on offering his skill set to slavers instead of generals. Had kept using his favored tools.

“He...designed the training protocol for my unit. Gave me my designation.” was all the ghoul could admit.

KG was watching him carefully for any tiny scrap of expression to give him a hint of how to approach this. Then he offered, “I know it’s not going to make the hurt magically go away but…” a momentary hesitation, “He’s dead now. I laced his canteen with poison.”

The breath he’d held rushed out of his lungs so quickly it hurt.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to remind you of h-”

“You had no way of knowing.” there was a sharp edge of pain he couldn’t mask in his voice. “You still have more scars to tell me about.” he settles his warm hand over the scar curving over KG’s hip. “This one seems the most recent.”

KG shifts underneath his palm, stumbling for his words. “O-Oh, yeah. You’re right, it’s the last one I got in the trade. A month and a half before I met you.”

Charon boldly (foolishly?) decided to leave his hand where it was, giving in to his need for contact slightly. He’d never admit how touch-starved he really was.

“I made a break for it when we were going through an overgrown farm plot, looking for any food that hadn’t been taken before we got there. Starr saw me and caught me as I shot by him...with a sickle.”

Charon flinched hard. “You’re lucky you can still tell that story.”

“That’s not the closest call I’ve had.” KG says, quiet enough that Charon almost thinks he imagined it. Then the man rolled onto his back, displaying those three long, ragged slices that tore from his left armpit to his right hip. They looked old, but Charon had a good idea what caused them.

“Deathclaw.”

“Mhmm.” KG nods. “I was 14 when what was left of my vault decided to leave home, looking for more sustainable food sources. I got spooked by a herd of bighorner, and wasn’t paying attention. I got separated from the group and the ‘claw found me first.”

Charon waits, hands still resting near his hip, displaced from the man turning over.

“I killed it. There was a ruined old fence, the kind with metal poles and they were all jagged on the ends so I made a trap, sorta. I lured it into a corner and when it lunged it used it’s weight to drive the pole into it’s brain. The group heard me screaming bloody murder and found me before I could bleed out. The doc’ said I was an inch away from being disemboweled.”

Charon’s voice was surprisingly emotional when he spoke, “You’re not even 24 yet.”

KG must’ve been startled by his display, watching him warily. “Yeah? What about it?”

“You shouldn’t have this many stories to tell. This many scars. You should be with your family.”

“My family is dead.” the man states, dryly.

“Exactly. You shouldn’t have lost them so early. You should be somewhere safe. How many times have you been on death’s door?” the ghoul’s hands are restless, plucking at the blankets. “More than me, when I was your age.”

“The world wasn’t on fire when you were my age.”

“But it was at war. I was being conditioned by Popov, and I still didn’t have the pain you have to carry.”

The human sat up, expression full of shifting emotion, unable to pin down. “We’re both fucked up, Char’. Just in different ways.”

That struck Charon deeply. That was the truth, plain and simple. He couldn’t argue it if he tried. He found himself longing to hold KG again. To pull him tightly against his chest, and never let him go. It made him feel weak.

“Char’...can I ask you something personal?”

A nod is all he can manage.

“I’ve been thinking about this for a while...do you think there’s a way for me to ask that we be more than companions...more than friends, without you being honor bound to say yes?”

Oh. Well damn.

He must’ve been hallucinating. Things like this didn’t happen to people like Charon. Shockingly pretty smoothskins like KG didn’t want nasty old ghouls like him. Good things didn’t happen to people like him. As he struggled for an answer, Charon could see his boss grow nervous, thumbs beginning to twiddle. Impulsively, he takes one of those tiny gloved hands. He stares at how KG’s fingers curl over his own, heart stuttering at the sight.

He didn’t so much step over that line, so much as leap.

“If...if you’d permit me, I’d like to answer that with my own question.”

KG gives one of those odd lopsided grins Charon has grown to like. “You can always ask me questions.”

“I am-” the ghoul’s voice cracks, causing him to clear his throat. “-not the type to have flings. If I say yes, I need to know you’re in it for me, and not just some experiment on what it’s like to be with a ghoul.” he drags a thumb over the back of KG’s glove. “Tell me, will you change your mind when you’re bored of waking up next to me?”

KG looked like he’d been slapped. “I don’t do flings Char’. It’s against my character.” he threads his fingers through Charon’s. “It’s been two years. Hell, I’m pretty damn sure I’m in love with you at this point. I’ve just been afraid that you would be forced to go along with it because of that piece of paper.”

“...you could have anyone you wanted.” Charon is careful not to sound too bitter about that.

“Yeah, and anyone includes you.” the look in KG’s eyes makes Charon feel like he’s going to melt or something sappy like that. “You actually listen to me. You didn’t check out the second you saw the collar.” he holds up a hand to stop Charon from butting in. “You’ve been through many similar things to me. I mean, we shared a trainer! You’re different from when we first met. You’re becoming whoever you were before you were Charon.”

“Not really. I was a hooligan.”

That earns him a poorly contained giggle. “Let me rephrase. You’re becoming you, Char’. And I’m in really deep for you.”

There was a beat of quiet where Charon considered verbally replying, but he went against that in favor of leaning in to press his lips to KG’s. His training was faintly rebelling over the fact that he didn’t ask for permission, but when an arm looped around the back of his neck, he couldn’t find it in himself to care.

Charon broke the kiss, and KG was grinning brightly at him.

“You kiss like a fucking prince in those old picture books.” There’s warm laughter in his words.

“What would that make you?” Charon huffs, glad it was hard for smoothies to tell when ghouls were blushing because he could feel it creeping up to his ears practically.

“Probably a dragon. I gobble up cute princes like you for breakfast. I’ve been told I kiss well enough to make folks reevaluate their lives.”

“Bullshit.”

KG just looks at him. “You just want me to prove it, I know that for a fact.”

“So?”

It was KG’s turn to blush, before he set himself to the task of proving to his partner just how true the claim actually was. Charon swore he could get addicted to this man.

[womanintheword]

One of you asked about my love story, so here it is, in the form of a few small nonfiction essays I’ve written about my life thus far:  Junior year of college. Late morning. Late September. “He just texted. He’s heading this way now.” My roommate Kate invited her friend from class to go with us to Mountain Heritage Day. We walked through campus, heading for the clock tower, red faced and already sweating. A boy in a camo t-shirt and matching hat strode towards us, phone in one hand pressed against his ear and a blue drink in the other. “Tell me that’s not him,” I said. “That’s him.” “I am not walking around with someone wearing a camo shirt and hat all day.” “Shhh, he’s really nice! Trust me.” And so I did, even though I wasn’t proud of my southern roots at that point in my life, and even though this boy was wearing the one type of clothing I despised most. We waited for Matt to get off the phone, Kate introduced us, and we made our way towards the fair with the rest of the crowds to look at things we couldn’t afford to buy and then spend the only money we had on the fair food, which was the main reason any of us went in the first place. Kate and I got ice cream and Matt got a funnel cake.  “Do you want some?” he said, holding his plate out to me. I had only had funnel cake once before, years prior. It wasn’t something I would ever get for myself, but it looked and smelled fantastic, like a perfect warm summer day filled with uninterrupted sunshine and laughter. I nodded. “Can you pull a piece off for me?” I didn’t explain that I had a weird quirk about getting my hands dirty, and, luckily, I didn’t have to, because he immediately ripped a giant chunk off, dunked it into the powdered sugar to make sure it was completely covered, and handed it to me. “Can you pass me a piece too?” Kate said. “You can get one yourself!” he said. He was joking, but held out his plate to her for her to get her own bit just the same.  Looking back, this was my first inkling that he was interested in me.  “Dude, I want McDonald’s so bad,” I said. We were still eating the funnel cake. Leave it to me to not even be finished with what I’m currently eating before thinking and planning my next snack/meal.  “Mmm, that sounds so good,” Matt said.  “Let’s do it!” Kate said, swiping another piece of funnel cake off of Matt’s plate.

After I learned what a McGangBang was (a concoction involving two McDoubles and a McChicken and then squishing them all together into one giant sandwich), we picked up my pup Jake and headed to the park, where we walked for over an hour and talked about things that I think I have purposely pushed out of my mind because they were things I never would have talked about with Matt had I known I would start dating him soon after the fact. Going into the day I told myself that this boy would be just a friend, because I had never really had a guy friend before, but while walking in the park I think I knew: I felt more comfortable about this boy than any other in my life. It was different. Still, I didn’t push it. He went home after the walk in the park and Kate and I went back to our apartment, where we, after some gabbing, eventually went to our own rooms to study and work on homework. Later that evening I heard Kate squealing in her room. “Are you okay?” I shouted. “Come here right now!” I groaned. I was exhausted. Padding my way into her room, I knew something was up the second I saw her face. You know the one: the one your best friend gives you when they know something you don’t, when they’re so overly excited about something involving you that their eyes seem twice as large as usual and they won’t stop staring at you, and you think their smile might be permanent because it’s never changing for such a long portion of time. “What?” I said, my voice flat, crossing my arms. She patted her bed. I shuffled over, sprawled out, and stared at where she sat in her desk chair opposite the bed. While my room was plain and calm, hers was loud. She had pink wall stickers everywhere, writing on her mirror, stuffed animals lining the top of her bookshelf and wrapped up in the blankets on her bed. She had a giant flat screen tv and the newest video game system. I had played video games growing up with dad, Andrew, and Ames, but hadn’t played in well over 10 years. I spent a lot of time in Kate’s room making my character spin around in circles while getting shot at. Needless to say, I didn’t have the best techniques. “Guess who just texted me?” Kate flicked her eyes back and forth from her phone to me. “Lindsay?” One of our mutual friends at the time. A bad guess on purpose. I knew it was a boy from the way she was looking at me, eyebrows raised and head tilted to the side. She didn’t ask me to guess again. “Matt!” she said, her voice a normal pitch again. “Okay… What did he say?” It wasn’t a big deal that he was texting her. They had class together and had become friends. They texted back and forth most days, most of the time talking about the current girl Matt was trying to woo. Kate was his feminine perspective. “Quote: ‘Hey, I had a really good time today and was wondering… Do you know if Stephanie is talking to anyone?’” My entire body warmed, the heat traveling from my cheeks to my feet. I was ecstatic, though I tried to hide it. I’m sure I didn’t do a very good job. “Did you respond yet?” “Not yet. I wanted to see what you thought first.” “I mean… what do you think? And are you sure you’re over him?” Yeah, that tiny detail: Kate had originally had a crush on Matt, though she claimed a week or so prior to Mountain Heritage Day that she had decided she didn’t like him anymore, or rather, that she had never liked him, just the idea of him. “Yes, totally.” “Okay… because you say the word, and I won’t talk to him.” “Steph, I promise I don’t like him.” She held out her phone to me so I could see the screen and the text he sent. “Go for it.” “Okay,” I said, grinning.  She turned her phone back and started typing. “What are you saying?” I jumped off the bed and skipped over next to her so I could see what she was doing. “I’m telling him that you’re not talking to anyone,” she said, not looking up. “Because you aren’t.” “This is so weird.” The whooshing sound of Kate’s text sounded. “Well, what are you thinking? I mean, did you have fun today? What do you think of him?”  “I had a really good time. It’s weird because… I felt really comfortable with him.” I met Kate’s stare. “Like, really comfortable. That’s never happened before.” I thought back to the random conversations we had while walking through the park earlier that day and slapped my hand to my face. “Kate, I talked to him about masturbation. Oh, my God.”   She paused, jaw dropping, and began laughing hysterically. “Oh my God, you did! You seriously talked to him about masturbation.” “I’m humiliated. I’m… mortified. I can’t speak to him again!” “Yes you can. Now calm down,” she said, unable to stop or hide her laughter. “He obviously likes you if he’s asking me whether you’re seeing anyone or not.”  I nodded. “True, true. But still,” I sighed. “God, this would happen. I meet a nice boy and act totally vulgar around him the first time we hang.”  Kate’s phone dinged in her hand. She glanced at the screen, then jumped up in her chair. “It’s him!” “Well… what’d he say?”  “He wants your number.” She flicked her eyes up at me. “Can I give it to him?” “Yeah,” I breathed. “Sure.”  She typed the message out and set her phone down on her desk. I laid down on her bed, stared up at the ceiling, and thought about how just weeks prior I had declared that I was swearing off boys. That lasted a good 20 minutes, I thought, fiddling with Kate’s sheets. I had met a boy my freshman year of college, and I use the term “met” loosely because he lived in Florida and the daughter of the minister at the church we were attending at that point introduced me to him. We only actually hung out in person two or three times. Other than that, it was a total text relationship. Which is fine. It’s what I needed at the time. I wasn’t ready for anything real, but I liked having someone “there” for me, if only through text, who I could talk to. After talking to him for almost two years and having nothing much come of it (mostly my fault because, like I said, I definitely wasn’t ready), and then having an incredibly ugly falling out (also via text like 99% of our relationship), I had told myself that I was going to stop trying to find a guy and was going to “let go and let God” as they say and was going to trust His timing. After all, if it was meant to be it would be.  And boy was it meant to be.  I got lucky, I will admit. Many people have told me this, my sister most recently and most often. Matthew was the first boy I ever really dated. He was my first real kiss. My first romantic love. My first… well, everything. And I his. We both got lucky. We both are blessed.  My phone went off in the other room. Kate and I looked at each and grinned.  “Yeah, you might want to go get that,” she said. My feet couldn’t carry me fast enough. I snagged the phone off my desk and jumped onto my bed, landing face first and stomach down. Graceful as ever. I read the text, responded, and saved his number into my phone.  “How’s it going in there?” Kate called across the apartment.  “Spectacular,” I said, loud enough for only me to hear. 

He had spent the day over at my place, walking the pup in the park, laughing together while watching silly TV shows, and asking each other questions. We spent most of our time together in the beginning doing these kinds of things. There was so much to talk about, so much to learn about each other. And we’re still learning, because even now, years later, we are changing each day, molding, becoming different people, and so we continue to ask questions and learn about one another, about the one we will be spending the rest of our lives with. We walked out of the apartment together, the three of us: Matt, Kate, and myself. (Kate because I was still so nervous to be alone with Matt, even though I was getting good vibes from him and trusted him more than I had trusted any other guy before that point. Sometimes having a friend nearby can calm the nerves better than anything else.) Kate walked several feet behind us, and then several yards. “I’ll text you later,” Matt said. “And maybe see you tomorrow?” “That sounds good,” I said. “This was fun. I love spending time with you. I really like you.” “I really like you too.” We hugged and I turned to walk back up to my place with Kate. I made it halfway back to my friend before turning around. I had kissed boys before, but only a few, and only ever pecks. Also, I didn’t consider any of them to be of any importance as they were either dares or I didn’t actually care about the person I was kissing. Still, I was nervous because I knew what I was going to do the second I decided to turn back around. “Matt,” I called. He turned, holding his hand above his eyes to shade them from the sun shining ferociously behind me. “Wait.” I jogged back to him and kissed him, fast. His lips were soft and he smelled like the mountains, like home. “Bye,” I said, my voice high pitched and nervous, waving like a maniac. I ran off without seeing his immediate reaction, but halfway to Kate I turned around. He was still walking but was turned around looking at me too. I smiled, waved again, and kept jogging until I reached Kate. Our first kiss, and it had been perfect.

The night Matt asked me to be his girlfriend, we went to a Greek restaurant in Dillsboro, two towns over from the University. Before we left the apartment I shared with Kate, she took a picture of us standing by the door and we joked about how she was my stand-in mom and Matt was the guy taking her daughter out. I still have the picture: me in a black shirt with a gold, detailed tree on the front, and a red jacket thrown over top, Matt sporting a blue shirt under a blue and white plaid flannel, both of us wearing matching cheesy grins, and his arm around my shoulder. There’s another picture from that night, of me with a wine holder that stood in the corner of the restaurant where we waited to be seated. It’s a moose lying on its back, downing the wine, and I’m standing in front of it giving a thumbs up, smiling with my mouth open. The photo is blurry, probably because Matt was chuckling while he took it and couldn’t hold his phone still enough for it to focus. We thought it was such an odd decoration and were entertained by it most of the night. We’re still entertained by it now, actually. It’s still there. We point it out each time we go and remember our first time there. I ordered a tuna melt and Matt a gyro. I had gone into the night incredibly nervous, but it didn’t take long for my nerves (and stomach) to settle. Matt was wonderful. Like always, he carried the conversation, asking me questions about myself, my family, my friends, my interests, the books I was reading, the classes I was taking, and he made no comment and wasn’t at all phased that he seemed to be the only one asking questions. I prayed he knew my lack of questioning was due to my anxiety and wasn’t a lack of interest. I’m sure some people think me an egoist, but I tend to ask less questions of people in return of their questions directed at me, opting instead to observe them and learn from what they weren’t saying. For instance, someone may seem confident by the way they’re talking or by what they’re saying, but maybe they’re rubbing their hands together or shuffling their feet. We all have different quirks and tells, too. “Ready for part two?” Matt asked me after paying the bill. “There’s a part two?” I grabbed his hand and we walked out the door, past our moose statue, and towards his ‘96 Ford Explorer. It was my first time heading towards the Jackson County Airport and “The Lookout” (as locals had dubbed the area further down from the airport where you could pull off the road onto a small patch of grass on the side of the mountain). The roads, like most of the ones here in Western North Carolina, were skinny, windy, and a straight shot up with the edge of the road doubling as the edge of the mountainside. We drove up to the airport, a small airfield about three miles from town that sits on a ridge, and used the entryway as a turn around to get back to The Lookout, where Matt pulled off the road and onto the side of a mountain and I tried not to have a panic attack. I zoned back in from staring out my window as Matt opened my door for me and held out his hand. We could see for miles. We could see everything: the forest, the University, my apartment, the Fraternity house Matt was living in. It was all lit up, trying to keep up with the moon and stars above us. “So this is part two,” I said, turning in circles looking up at the sky and the world around me, feeling very, very small. “Almost,” Matt said as he opened his trunk and pulled out a blanket and some candies. “I brought this,” he said, holding up the blanket--blue and white, I saw now, with sheep on it-- “in case we get cold, and these,” he held out the candies, “because I know they’re your favorites. Junior Mints, Sour Patch Kids, and Swedish Fish, right?” “Yeah,” I said, smiling like an idiot. He put the blanket and candies down and we walked to the edge together, where I was reminded of the first time I had a panic attack (also on top of a mountain) years prior, and thought about far I’d come. Look at me, standing feet away from the edge of a mountainside, not completely freaking out. (I would have started to though if I could see future me sitting on the edge of a rock face that juts out from the mountain thousands of feet up, smiling and swinging my feet.) “You know, there’s this study,” Matt began after we stood in silence together for a minute or so.” “Uh huh?” He turned me around so I wasn’t facing him and trailed his fingers in circles all over my back. “That only a small percentage of people can actually figure out what someone is saying to them when it’s traced onto their back.” “Mm, I used to love doing that with my friends when we were kids.” His fingers began tracing. I tried to focus more on what they were saying rather than how good the tingles felt and how they traveled up and down my entire body. “W,” I said, when he was finished with the first letter. “Yes.” One straight line down followed by two horizontal lines, one at the top of the original line and one on bottom. He was writing in all caps. I shivered in pleasure. “I.” “Mhm.” One vertical line and a horizontal one stemming from the bottom of the first, the whole thing repeated right away. “L. Twice. Will?” “Correct!” He traced just a horizontal line and said, “That’s a space.” Y - O - U - space - B - E - space - M - Y - I knew the last word before he began tracing it. I had known the second he finished the second word in the question. His hands became more and more unsteady as he was further into the sentence. He even “erased” a letter or two that he had messed up by rubbing his hand, open faced, all across my back. G - I - R - L - F - R - I - E - N - D - ? He paused, waited. “Girlfriend,” I said. “Will you be my girlfriend?” I turned around to face him. “Stephanie Cheryl Wooten,” he said. “Will you be my girlfriend?” I let myself have a mini freak out session in my head before saying, “Yes.”

We were making macaroni and cheese and dancing in the living room while the water boiled. Matthew and I had been dating a few weeks, and he had already told me, “I love you.” It was the middle of the night. We had stayed up kissing and talking and keeping each other warm in between the sheets. After he said it, I told him that I really liked him, and that I thought I was on the way to love, but that I wasn’t ready to say it yet, to which he understood and held me until I fell asleep in his arms. While we were dancing together though, with the water boiling in the next room and our feet sliding across the carpet, I looked at him and I knew: I love him, I thought to myself. And I think I had loved him for some time. I just wasn’t ready to admit it to myself yet, or maybe it was that I had never been in love before--not this kind of love, anyway--and I didn’t know that was what I was feeling. “Come on,” I said, pulling him into my room by his hand. I closed the door so Kate wouldn’t hear what I was about to say. It was a private moment, just between Matt and me. “What is it?” he said, laughing, breathing hard from all the dancing. “I love you,” I told him, taking both of his hands in mine, lacing my fingers through his, and squeezing. The outer corners of his eyes pinched together as he smiled down at me. “I love you, too.”

Two years and nine months after Matthew asked me to be his girlfriend, we went out on one of our typical “date nights.” Our friends and family made fun of us, dubbing us the “old married couple.” Which we were, kind of. We spent most nights together, and most days. We ate together, walked together, made love together, fought together, laughed together, played board games together, watched TV together, went to the movies together, jogged together, cried together. We were going through life together, and even if it was only for a short time, I was ineffably happy. “Where are we going?” I asked Matt as we walked to his Ford, dressed up in our summer clothes. “You’ll see,” he said, opening the door for me. When we passed the town of Sylva, I began to have an inkling as to where he was taking us. I waited until we got closer, until we passed the place where you could paint pottery, to make sure my inkling was more than that. “I knew it!” I shouted as we turned left when we were across from the Jarrett House and pulled into the almost full parking lot. “No, you didn’t!” “Mhm. I did. You’re so predictable.” “It’s our place, though.” He cut the engine and jogged over to get my door for me. “Thank you.” “You’re welcome. I love you,” he said as he laced his fingers through mine and we started up the ramp to the front door. We talked about the moose statue, per usual, while we waited to be seated, and eventually wound up choosing to sit outside on the patio rather than to wait much longer. It was warm out and the patio was screened in. I ordered the same thing I did on our first date there and, just as the first time around, it didn’t live up to my expectations for it. “Why do I keep ordering this every time? It’s never as good as I want it to be.” “I’m putting a note in my phone,” Matt said, whipping his phone out of his pocket, “reminding you to never order this again.” He chuckled at me, put his phone away when he was done, and then looked at me like he always did, like he still does, like no one ever has before. It’s a look reserved especially for me, I know, and it makes me feel like we’re the only two people left in the world. I had a feeling this was the night: the night Matt would propose to me. We’d talked of it often together, talked about what our life with one another might look like. Plus, Matt had dressed much nicer than he usually did, and he was much more fidgety. I could tell he was nervous about something. We ate on the patio, surrounded by others whom we gave stories too. “Couple behind you and to your left. Guy is in the green shirt and girl in white dress.” I snuck a peak behind me. The couple in question didn’t look much like that. They were young, around our age. The girl was on her phone, presumably texting someone else while she sat across from the boy, who looked around the restaurant like a pendulum, back and forth and back and forth, anywhere but the girl sitting across from him. “First date,” I said, turning back around. “Or… Maybe hundredth date, and now they’re bored. Or in a fight. Something’s going on there. She won’t look him in the eye.” Matt nodded in agreement as I scanned the patio. “All right,” Matt said, putting his napkin on top of the food he couldn’t finish. “Are you ready for part two?” I lifted my sweaty glass to my lips and took one last sip. “Ah, yes. Always.” Once we passed the new Health and Science building and turned onto the familiar windy road, I knew: he was recreating our first date. “The lookout?” I said. He squeezed my hand, his warming mine, and grinned, his smile warm like the rest of him. We were quiet most of the ride up there, the silence a comforting one, like the feeling you get when you sit down in your favorite chair early in the morning with coffee and a well loved book. The view was the same, but different, mostly because we were different. I was different, and so while the view hadn’t changed over the past two and half years, my view had. We look at things differently at different stages in life, I think. It’s like I can read a book and have a very specific experience, and then read it a year or maybe even five or ten years later, and because of all the different things I’ve gone through and felt, because I’m a different person than I was one or five or ten years prior when I first read the book, the second time will be completely different. And I’ll get something different out of it. We parked and stood together at the edge of the mountainside, and I looked up at the stars and crescent moon. We listened to the crickets and frogs and stood still, enveloped around one another. “Do you remember that study I told you about the first time we came here?” he said, turning me away from him. “The one you made up? Yeah. Why?” “I’ve got another one for you.” He began tracing the letters. The first few words were the same: Will you be my… W - I - F - E ? I turned around to Matthew down on one knee, holding out a black velvet box with a ring I had pointed out casually once in our local jewelry story in it. “Stephanie Cheryl Wooten,” he began. “I know I’m not perfect, and I know we have our disagreements, but I love you to the moon and back, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Will you marry me?” I was tempted to be cruel and say No but then really quickly after say yes, just to mess with him, but I didn’t want to give the poor man a heart attack. “Yes,” I said. “Yes.” He reached for my hand and slid the ring onto my finger, then rotated it side to side, admiring it on me. The diamonds shined almost as much as his eyes when he stood up and looked at me. Those summer sky blue eyes that had me the first time I saw them that October in 2011 at Mountain Heritage Day. I never would have thought that I would be engaged. I never thought I would ever get married, or even fall in love. I had been hurt so much by someone who was supposed to love me, who did love me, in a weird way. But then, I knew how blessed I was. I thought about the day God created us both. Did He know we would find each other? Was this His doing? One thing was certain: whether it was all God or our free will that led us here, I was grateful. Matt has the best heart. He takes such good care of me. We take care of each other. And he’s a Godly man, which I love most of all, because we lead each other closer to God each and every day. I mean, I get to hike and snuggle and read and build blanket forts and watch movies and eat good food and read and talk about the Bible and God with my best friend for the rest of my life. I am so incredibly lucky. Thank you, thank you, thank you, Jesus. I love you to the moon and back too, Matthew.

[authorelizabethhunter]

I’m so very pleased to announce that Midnight Labyrinth is available to preorder at all retailers now! It releases on November 7th. Here are your links:

Amazon: http://amzn.to/2vTuXtN

iBooks: http://apple.co/2gyESmr

B&N: http://bit.ly/2vAHyGM

Kobo: http://bit.ly/2vALPtX

Smashwords: http://bit.ly/2esTdN7

    FAQ for new and old readers

Do I have to have read the Elemental Legacy novellas or any of your other books before I read these?

Nope! This is a stand alone book. Which means that even if you’ve never read any of my other Elemental universe books, you’ll be able to pick this one up and enjoy. This is an entirely new series set in an existing world, but you won’t be lost. I’ve even had beta readers who aren’t familiar with my other books read this one to be sure. So far, they’ve loved it.

Is this a paranormal romance?

Though there are some romantic subplots throughout the series, this definitely leans more into the paranormal mystery/urban fantasy genre. The focus is on Ben and Tenzin’s adventures, not on romance. (Though fans of Gavin Wallace will probably get a nice surprise.)

Will all my favorite characters from your other Elemental series be here?

I don’t know about ALL of them, but main characters like Giovanni and Beatrice, Carwyn and Brigid, Cheng (the pirate), Baojia, etc. will likely be popping up as supporting characters in these books. Ben and Tenzin have been an integral part of the Elemental universe, so you’ll see many familiar characters, though the focus will stay on them.

Will Midnight Labyrinth be available in paperback?

Absolutely! I might even be able to work out a preorder for paperback. I’ll let you know if I do.

Will the Elemental Legacy books be available in audio?

Yes! I’m working with a fantastic narrator for this series and he’s been working hard on the prequel novellas to be ready before November. The first, Shadows and Gold, is already finished and going through quality control over at Audible. I’ll post the sales links as soon as I have them. The second is going through proofing right now, and we’ll be starting on the third this month. Midnight Labyrinth audio will probably not be available on the same day as the paperback and e-book, but it should be available soon after.

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Is Ben going to turn into a vampire?

Dude. You didn’t really think I was going to answer that one, did you?

Had to try…

And for those of you who are not signed up for my newsletter, here is a preview of Chapter One:

MIDNIGHT LABYRINTH

An Elemental Legacy Novel

Chapter One

  He chased his quarry up the ladder, launching himself onto the gravel-strewn roof in Hell’s Kitchen. Ducking under a broken scaffold, he followed the dark figure who threatened to elude him. She was half his size, dressed in a black hoodie and leggings. She moved like a cat in the dim, pre-dawn light.

She was getting away.

He ran left, skimming the side of a cinderblock building before he leapt across a narrow vent, using longer legs to his advantage. He landed hard, rolled in a single somersault, then took to his feet in one smooth movement. He could feel gravel in the small of his back, and his arm was bleeding from the bite of a rusted ladder, but he kept running.

He was gaining on her. He scanned the landscape as he’d been taught, mentally calculating the most efficient way to get from his position to hers.

His lungs pumped in steady rhythm. In-in-out. He pulled in the humid air and tried not to choke. He’d been running at seven thousand feet the week before. His thin black shirt stuck to his skin. Grey light filtered over a city that still clung to the memory of the previous day’s heat. New York City in July. Another day; another sauna.

The small figure scrambled up the side of a building—sticking to the stained brick like a spider—then she disappeared over the edge and into nothing.

He wasn’t concerned for her safety.

He found the lips of the bricks she’d used to climb. He wasn’t as fast as she was. He was forced to take his time crawling up the side of the building, finding each finger hold and jutting brick to move his body up the wall. From a distance, he’d appear to be sticking too. He felt a fingernail tear, but he didn’t pause.

Hoisting his body over the edge of the wall, he kept himself low and scanned the urban landscape. Water towers and rusted fire-escapes mixed with recently gentrified gardens and sleek patio furniture.

She was barely visible in the distance, leaping from the top of one building to the next.

He ran after her, but he knew it was futile. She’d gained too much ground during his careful climb. She disappeared over the side of another building and Ben knew he’d lost her.

Panting, he followed her tracks, not allowing himself to slow down. He leapt over the edge of a familiar building and jumped fire-escape railings five stories down until he hung on the last rung of the old ironwork.

Ben Vecchio closed his eyes and did three rapid pull-ups, pushing his muscles right to the edge of exhaustion before he gave them a break. He had a runner’s build, but he was six feet tall. Moving a large frame quickly would always be a challenge. He dropped to the ground and jogged down West 47th Street to the deserted playground. The gate was locked, but he easily jumped over.

She’d taught him that trick early.

A small hooded figure perched on the top of a red and green play structure. Still breathing deeply, Ben jumped to the first platform and squatted in front of her.

“Believe it or not, you are getting faster,” Zoots said.

“That wall nearly killed me.” With the adrenaline waning, Ben was starting to feel his hands.

“But you made it up. That’s a ten foot brick wall and you climbed it.”

“Slowly.”

“But you climbed it,” Zoots said. “Remember, I grew up here. I know every inch of those roofs. I have the advantage.”

He shook his head. “Doesn’t matter. I have to be faster.”

It had to be more instinctive. He wouldn’t have the luxury of running in familiar places.

Zoots rolled her eyes and pulled out a cigarette. “Whatever, man.”

When he’d first moved to New York, he’d watched. There were parkour and free-running groups, but they were cliquish and Ben was a beginner. Though he’d been drilled in martial arts and weapons training since he was twelve-years-old, parkour was new to him. It was only the lightning-quick reflexes of a girl he’d met a few years ago that had attracted him to the practice. She’d moved inhumanly fast.

Of course, she hadn’t been strictly human.

Ben was. The sweat dripping into his eyes proved it. He wiped it away and sat next to Zoots.

He’d found her by watching. She wasn’t part of the group, but they knew her. She was the one they wandered over to talk to when they were practicing. Zoots was tiny—barely five feet tall—with a slight figure. Her skin was pale under her hood. Her short hair and her eyes were dark. She came out in the early morning and at night. He’d never seen her in the middle of the day.

It had taken Ben weeks to figure out who she was  and what she was to the runners in Central Park. If the young traceurs in the park had a guru, it was Zoots. She claimed to be self-taught from YouTube videos, but Ben suspected that Zoots was like him. He’d been running since he could remember, mostly to get away from trouble. She was just better at it.

Zoots ran everywhere, and she was a loner. She ignored Ben for weeks, until her curiosity got the better of her. She’d talked to him, and he’d eventually hired her. He wanted to learn parkour, but he wasn’t interested in joining any group. Zoots nodded and told Ben to meet her at Hell’s Kitchen Playground and to bring two hundred bucks cash.

So he did.

She finished her cigarette, flicked off the cherry, and carefully tucked the butt into a tin she kept in her pocket. “Same time next week?”

“Yeah.”

“You’ve been doing this for six months now. You know the basics. You sure you want to keep paying me for lessons?”

Ben raised an eyebrow. “You trying to get rid of me, Zoots?”

“It’s your money, man.” She smiled. “I just spend it.”

“I need to be faster.”

She eyed him. “That’s practice. You’re twice my size; you gotta figure out your own style. Tall means longer legs and longer arms, but it also means more meat to move.”

“I’ll keep paying you if you keep teaching me.”

“Like said, it’s your money.” Zoots narrowed her eyes. “You told me once you needed to learn this for work.”

“I do.” His fingers itched for a cigarette. He’d stopped smoking when he was fourteen—his uncle could smell the slightest trace of cigarette smoke—but he still wanted one occasionally. Especially when people started asking personal questions.

“But one of the guys in the park said you were in antiquities or something.”

Damn, nosy kids. “Yeah.”

Zoots frowned. “You jumping roofs at the museum or something?”

Ben couldn’t stop the smile. “I work for private clients.”

“Huh.” She nodded. “So… you’re into some serious Indiana Jones-kinda-shit, huh?”

Ben rose and raked a hand through his hair. “Don’t be ridiculous, Zoots. You think I’d look good in a hat?”

He caught the quick flush on her cheeks before he jumped off the play structure and walked toward the gate. “See you next week, Zoots.”

“Later, Indiana.”

* * *

Ben caught the train to Spring Street station, walking toward Broadway and his favorite cafe. He sat at the picnic tables outside Cafe Lilo and watched the growing rush of pedestrians filling the sidewalk. He read a newspaper someone had left behind while he drank coffee and devoured a bagel.

There was no typical crowd at Cafe Lilo, which was one of the reasons Ben liked it. Stock brokers, dog walkers, young parents and college kids all frequented the family-owned cafe. A few tourists came in, but it wasn’t a flashy place. That morning delivery and sanitation trucks competed in the narrow streets while a growing crowd of taxis and hired cars dodged between them, heading toward Lower Manhattan.

He flipped to the Arts section of the paper and made a few notes about gallery openings. An auction announcement. A charity gala sponsored by some outfit called Historic New York. A new surrealist exhibit opening at the Museum of Modern Art.

His sunlight quota met, he headed back to the building on Mercer he was still renovating. He’d called the massive, unfinished penthouse home for two years. Both stories had finished floors and the semblance of rooms. The roof garden was a work in progress.

He nodded at the silent doorman, who was known for discretion more than amiability, and took the elevator to the top floor. He had two full floors of the building. He pushed the button for the living area on the top floor, bypassing his office on the floor below.

The loft was home. It was office.

Finely honed reflexes were the only thing that saved him from the three inch thick book that dropped from the loft overhead.

The loft could also be a death trap.

He glared up. “What are you doing?” There were books—his books—scattered on the floor under her loft. “Tenzin, what the hell?”

Another book fell flat on the floor to his left.

“Stop throwing my books!”

A dark head poked out, cloaked in carefully placed shadows that protected her from sunlight. “Did you move my swords?” She held out another book, narrowed her eyes, and dropped it.

“Cut it out!” Ben shouted. “And no, I did not move your swords. I swear, Tenzin—”

“Are you sure?” A small figure floated out of the loft like the proverbial angel of book death, arms stretched out with two of his massive art books in her hands. “Are you sure you didn’t move my swords?”

Damn, pain-in-the-ass stubborn air vampire.

Ben glared at her. “I did not…”

Oh shit. He had.

“I told you,” she said.

“One sword, Tenzin! One. Sword.” He held his hands out, ready to rescue his books. “Do not drop those books.”

Tenzin hovered over him, a pissed-off, flying demon with a pretty, round face and a sheet of black hair falling around her. She looked young, but she wasn’t. She was one of the most ancient elemental vampires on the planet, born on the northern steppes of Asia thousands of years before. She was also Ben’s partner.

And a book abuser.

She wouldn’t have tried it when she’d been working with his uncle, Giovanni Vecchio. Of course, Giovanni was a rare book collector and a fire vampire who would have seriously wounded her if she tried.

Tenzin narrowed her eyes. “It’s not nice when someone messes with your stuff, is it?”

“I didn’t damage your damn rapier! The way you had it placed, it almost took out my eye every time I left the downstairs bathroom. So I moved it. I didn’t drop it on its hilt from a height of twelve feet!”

“It wouldn’t have taken out your eye if you weren’t looking at your phone all the time. You should watch where you’re going.”

“You’re making me mental.” His hardbacks were still suspended in the air. “Please put my books down. I will tell Giovanni you’re abusing them if you don’t.”

Tenzin had been friends with his uncle hundreds of years before Ben had been born, and they’d worked as assassins for a time. Tenzin wasn’t afraid of his uncle, but she found Giovanni’s disapproval annoying.

She floated to the ground, still staying in the shadows, and handed him the books. “There. Don’t move my stuff again.”

“Then don’t put it where I could do myself permanent bodily injury, Tiny. Not all of us can regrow body parts if we lose them.”

She cocked her head and looked at him. “That is a very slow and painful process, even for vampires.”

“And since I’m human, not an option for me. Please don’t put your swords in places that will gouge out my eyes.”

“Fine.” She bent down and picked up a single book. “Here.”

He took the book and ignored the dozen on the ground. “Thanks.”

Tenzin smiled, all ire forgotten. “You’re welcome.”

Then Tenzin flew back up to her loft and disappeared.

Ben looked at all the books on the floor. “Do you have any more up there?”

“Yes. Do you want me to—”

“Don’t toss them down.” He took a deep breath. “Hand them down please. After I put these away.” He picked up two more books. “Any calls or emails while I was out?”

“No calls.”

“But did you check your email?”

“No.” She sighed. “I wish you’d never made me an email account. It’s not the same as letters.”

“I know that, Tenzin, but it’s how the modern world communicates. And if you don’t check it every day, your inbox will take over the world.”

“Is that why you take your phone to the toilet?”

“Yes,” he said. “Now check your messages.”

Tenzin flew down and picked up a magazine from the coffee table. “Cara, check my email.”

A polite artificial voice filled the living area. “Checking electronic messages for Tenzin.” There was a soft hum before Cara said, “You have six new messages.”

“Read subject lines.”

She complained about it, but Ben was continually amazed by how quick Tenzin was with technology. She’d had limited access to the electronic revolution until an immortal tech company in Ireland came out with the Noct voice recognition program. Vampire touch wreaked havoc on any electronic gadget because of their amnis, the electrical current that ran under their skin and connected them to their elemental ability.

Wind and water vampires had bad reactions to electronics. Earth vampires could handle some gadgets a little better than others. Rare fire vampires like his uncle could short out the computer in a modern car just by sitting in the front seat.

No computers. No mobile phones. No iPods or tablets or new appliances.

But then came Noct.

“Reading subject lines,” Cara said. “From Beatrice De Novo, ‘I need a recipe, don’t ignore me.’”

“Delete,” Tenzin said.

“You should at least write her back,” Ben said.

“I don’t cook from recipes, so that would be useless.” Tenzin turned a page. “Next message.”

Cara read, “From Blumenthal Blades. ‘Desirable saber for your Eastern European collection.’”

“Save,” Tenzin said. “That sounds promising.”

Ben shelved three more books. “Because you definitely need more swords.”

“I always need more swords.”

“From Viva Industries,” Cara read. “‘All natural male enhancement from Asia.’”

Tenzin laughed. “That’s what he said.”

It took Ben a second to realize Tenzin had actually made a joke, then he grimaced. “Delete!”

“I do not recognize voice signature for the current account,” Cara said. “Shall I log out Tenzin?”

“No,” Tenzin said. “Delete ‘All Natural Male Enhancement,’ Cara. Next message.”

“From Jonathan Rothwell. ‘Confirming details for upcoming travel.’”

“Save,” Tenzin said quickly, glancing at Ben. “I’ll read that later.”

He kept his eyes on his bookshelves. “You going to Shanghai?”

“I haven’t decided yet.”

Ben tried not to react. Jonathan Rothwell was the personal secretary for Cheng, an honest-to-goodness vampire pirate who ruled Shanghai. He was also Tenzin’s ex… something. Former lover? Current lover? Ben had met Cheng on the very first job he and Tenzin had done together four years before, but he still didn’t have an answer.

It’s none of your business. Ben said, “We don’t have anything on the schedule, so whatever you want to do.”

Ben decided to reorganize the art section of his bookshelves. He’d had the hardbacks arranged by color, but Tenzin had screwed it all up. He might as well reorganize according to style and period.

Tenzin called, “Cara, next message.”

“From Rene DuPont. ‘Think about it.’”

Ben’s head popped up and his eyes went wide. “What?”

“Cara,” Tenzin called. “Move that one to the folder labeled, ‘Rene.’”

“You have a folder labeled ‘Rene?’” Ben asked. “A folder?”

Tenzin shrugged. “Know your enemies and know yourself.”

“He tried to kill me last summer in Scotland. Several times.”

Tenzin squinted. “Did he really try to kill you, though? I mean, you did steal a sword from him,” she pointed out. “A really valuable legendary one.”

“One,” Ben said, “I didn’t steal it from him. He stole it from me after I found it. I just took it back. And two, he wanted that old vampire to drain me, so yes he tried to kill me.”

“Your points are valid.” She flipped through the magazine.

“Thank you. What does he want?”

“I don’t know. Do you want his email address?” Tenzin looked up. “He often sends me funny jokes. You might find them amusing.”

Ben blinked. “Rene DuPont, thief for hire and the vampire who tried to kill your partner, sends you spam emails and you don’t mind?”

“You know, I don’t think he was serious about killing you,” Tenzin said. “That’s just his sense of humor.”

Ben was half tempted to ask her to forward Rene’s “funny jokes” just to find out what a sociopathic immortal thief found funny.

Then he remembered he lived with Tenzin.

Rene DuPont was a part of a clan his uncle had strong ties with, so Ben didn’t want to pick a fight unless he had no other choice. He and Tenzin had come off of their last confrontation with Rene looking like the winners and the reasonable party.

Ben smiled. Rene probably loathed that as much as he loathed Ben.

Or as much as he wanted Tenzin. Rene hadn’t been shy about expressing his admiration in that direction.

“You know what?” he said. “Never mind. Seeing that name in my inbox would just make my head explode. Tell me if you think he’s going to be in the US or if our paths are going to cross. That’s all I ask.”

“Okay. Cara, next message!” Tenzin yelled.

“From Novia O’Brien. Copied to Ben Vecchio. ‘Monthly meeting at Bat and Barrel?’”

Ben looked up. “Better read the whole thing. She’s been trying to pay off that favor for six months. She and Cormac are getting annoyed.”

“I don’t care,” Tenzin said. She dropped the magazine and flew back up to her loft. “It was a pair of opera glasses, but it wasn’t an easy retrieval. I’m not willing to waste a favor so they can mark it off their ledger. Let them be annoyed. Cara, read message.”

Cara read, “Good evening. Would love to meet and touch base with the two of you when you have a free night. Gavin’s new pub is getting good buzz. Saturday night at eleven work for you two?’”

Ben waited for Tenzin to look at him. “We need to throw them a bone.”

“I don’t understand the idiom,” Tenzin said. She turned her eyes and stared at the opposite wall, swinging one leg back and forth on the edge of her room.

“Yes, you do,” Ben said. “Don’t play dumb. Throw them a bone. Let them pay us back.”

She shrugged. “I don’t need anything from them right now.”

“It was two days work at the most—”

“And I refused to let them pay us for that reason,” she said.

“The O’Briens are a huge clan,” Ben said. “They’re independent, and they don’t like owing people.”

She smiled. “Well, they owe us now.”

“I know you live for racking up favors,” Ben said, “but we live here at their pleasure.”

Tenzin laughed.

The vampires in charge of the great city of New York were the O’Briens, a clan of earth vampires who’d taken over the city in a violent coup and held it for a century through numbers, wise bribery, and clever manipulation.

Ben and Tenzin had moved to New York with the understanding that Tenzin—a highly powerful and connected vampire—would demonstrate no ambition that would challenge the current vampires in charge. She would also use her influence and connections in Asia to increase foreign trade.

“All I’m saying,” Ben said, “is that unless you want cause an intercity incident, piss off a powerful earth vampire clan, kill a bunch of people, and take control of the city—which obviously you could do if you really wanted to—we should probably just meet with Novia and let her do something nice for us so her sire feels better.”

Tenzin dropped from her room and hung upside down, her face level with Ben’s. Talking to her like that was always disorienting.

That was, of course, why she did it.

“Is there something you need?” Ben asked.

“I’m hungry.”

“Doubtful.” He’d seen her drink a tall glass of blood three days ago while she was binge-watching a British reality show. At Tenzin’s age, she didn’t need much blood to survive.

Nevertheless, she glanced down at his neck and licked her lower lip.

“Don’t piss me off, Tenzin.” That was not their agreement. They were partners. He wasn’t food.

“Novia said she wants to meet at Gavin’s? Why Gavin’s? There are too many humans there.”

And Tenzin couldn’t be around humans too often. Unlike most vampires, her fangs never retracted, which could lead to some awkward staring in the wrong places.

“Gavin pays the extra tribute to have neutral pubs in every city,” Ben said quietly. “Novia is leveling the playing field, making the effort to accommodate your status. We should meet her.”

Tenzin narrowed her eyes. “You meet her first. Tonight.”

“Fine.” Massaging egos was all part of the vampire package.

Tenzin flew back to her room and Ben continued organizing his books, mentally composing the email he’d send to Novia.

Ben Vecchio may have been born in the Bowery to good-for-nothing human parents, but he’d been raised and mentored from the age of twelve by his adoptive uncle, a fire vampire of fierce reputation and a deep desire to be left alone. Ben knew more about immortal politics than most vampires. Their world operated on a carefully balanced network of allegiances, loyalties, family ties, and favors. It was feudal, but it worked.

Most of the time.

* * *

Tenzin watched him as he slept that afternoon.

Shining boy.

The lines around Ben’s mouth and eyes had deepened. Not much. But he’d grown from the young man she had known and into the man he would become.

Even so, he was her shining boy, eager to fix problems, fight battles, and seek treasure. He’d dragged her to this metal city and made her a nest in the sky, quick to reassure her of his plans.

It will be brilliant. It will be fun. We’ll get rich. Well, I’ll get rich and you’ll get richer.

Tenzin smiled.

Ben would go to the meeting with the young vampire and charm her into a solution both Tenzin and the New York hierarchy could live with. He’d negotiate with smiles and debate with quips. Ben was both her partner and her better half. He was one of the few humans who’d ever understood her, and possibly the only one who’d never feared her. Even her own sire feared her.

Not Ben.

He picked and poked at her as a hobby. He antagonized her and did it with a smile. She pushed him just far enough to drive him crazy. Why?

It was fun.

Their partnership was good. He was finding his way and meeting his people. Making connections and learning the ways of their world. He had time as long as she was with him. As long as she watched. His human experience would only add to the being he would become.

Of course, he did have that white knight tendency.

She’d have to fix that.

White knights had a tendency to get their armor bloody, and that could not happen.

Not until it was time.

Copyright 2017 Elizabeth Hunter

All rights reserved.

MIDNIGHT LABYRINTH Roundup! Preorder links/FAQ/Chapter One preview I'm so very pleased to announce that Midnight Labyrinth is available to preorder at all retailers now!