#oh my god my grey streak is really showing itself here

[bespectacledbookworm]

I can't remember if I read about this or if I was just thinking one day, but my theory is that the more sentience you have, the shorter your lifespan is and vice versa.

Also I finally bought the ear weights I always wanted

Thanks Diablo Organics

[professorrw]

Hey could I please request a LokixReader story set on Sakaar where they have an enemies to friends to lovers relationship? Lots of fluff and smut if that’s okay. Thank you xxxx

Lord have mercy is this long. I love the request (probably a little too much). I have to warn you before reading, it's 6.6K words, the longest fic I've written yet. BUT I love it. I'm really proud of it!

Pairing: female reader x Loki

Requested: Yes

Warnings: smut, 18+, praise, unprotected sex, fingering, enemies to friends to lovers, fluff, fighting (Hulk and Thor), spoilers for Thor Ragnarok, takes place during Ragnarok

A/N: And with this finished I'm going to take a day to myself tomorrow! I'm not feeling very well and I want to catch up on my series because I've been neglecting it. Requests open, taglist open, inbox open! Please like, comment, and reblog!

You could ask anyone on Sakaar who the Grandmaster’s favorite person was and they would say it was you. You grew up on the trash planet with your father, who was a reject from his home planet. But on Sakaar you were basically royalty. Your father befriended the million year old Grandmaster when you were just two and from then on you were living in the lap of luxury.

You weren’t sure how long you’d been on Sakaar, but it had been a few hundred years. You didn’t look that old, more like twenty to thirty. But there was no way to be certain with the way that time worked on Sakaar.

Your life was perfect in your opinion. You and your father were happy and healthy on the trash planet. Every day you would dress in your finest silk robes, adorn your flashy face paint, and go to the arena to watch fights. When you weren’t doing that you were in your home or with the Grandmaster, who was basically a second father to you.

It was the end of the day and you were eating dinner with the Grandmaster, your father, and some other ‘royalty.’ As typical with all meals held by the Grandmaster it was full of excited and animated talking and extravagant food. You were too busy drinking your wine to engage in conversation, unlike your father who hadn’t touched his plate in favor of speaking to the man next to him.

Your father was a very social man, probably why the Grandmaster took such a liking to him. They were equally as flamboyant and outgoing. the Grandmaster often remarked how much you looked like your father. You had the same hair color, eye color and shape, and skin tone. Though you couldn’t tell your father’s true hair color anymore because it had started greying, contrary to the rest of his body that wasn’t aging as quickly.

There was a knock at the dining room door and the Grandmaster called for whoever it was to come in. The noise had drawn everyones’ attention, and all eyes were on the man that was being escorted in. He was tall, with fair skin and raven black hair. He was the most attractive man you had seen in a while. He didn’t look like a lot of the men you saw, but he still looked elegant.

“Who is this?” the Grandmaster asked.

Instead of waiting for the guards to speak, the detainee spoke, “I am Loki, God of Mischief and Prince of Asgard. I would like to say right now that it is a mistake imprisoning me and I will forget all about it if you let me go right now.” Loki spoke swiftly and with an accent foreign to many you heard normally. He had a very charming speech but you were in utter shock at the way he had spoken to the Grandmaster.

You expected the Grandmaster to order the guards to throw him in with the other gladiators and make him go against the champion, but he actually laughed, followed by everyone else in the room other than you.

“Well, Loki, I suppose I don’t need to make you fight. You can keep me company instead. How does that sound?”

It must not have been what Loki was expecting because he raised his eyebrows and said nothing for several seconds. “I think that would be fine,” he finally responded.

“Good, good. Why don’t you take that off him so he can pull up a chair?” the Grandmaster said to the guards. They did as he ordered and unshackled the dark haired man. As soon as he was free he grabbed a chair and planted right in between the Grandmaster and you. Loki sat down and gazed at you, offering a dazzling smile.

You squinted at him for a moment, sizing him up. You knew he was going to be trouble, to you at least.

“Ah Loki, please meet Y/N. She’s like a daughter to me,” the Grandmaster said to him.

“Hello Y/N. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” His words were so obviously a lie that it made you scowl. You could hear the sarcasm seeping from his words. You could tell that he was already trying to butter up the Grandmaster. But in actuality he was trying not to get himself killed. Thor was nowhere to be found and he was on this planet by himself.

“Likewise,” you said back. You turned away from the men and started eating your meal, pointedly ignoring Loki as you did so. You could hear their conversation and it was almost impossible not to eavesdrop. The Grandmaster was mostly talking about himself, all things that you’d already heard before. Loki, when given the chance to talk, was just complimenting him in return.

When the meal was over and the dishes were collected the Grandmaster addressed your father. “My dear Holden, would you house my company for the time being?”

You whipped your head over to the Grandmaster. You couldn’t believe the words that had just come from his mouth. You couldn’t believe he was asking you and your father to let Loki stay with you. But your father being your father would have no problem with it. You just knew he was going to accept.

As you expected he said, “Why of course, the more the merrier.”

Your house was incredibly close to the palace. There really was no need for guards to escort you and your father home but the Grandmaster thought it was necessary. So after dinner you, your father, and Loki made your way to your home. It was very beautiful, and almost as grand as the palace itself, but much smaller.

Your father was in high spirits as usual. Once you were inside your father turned to Loki with a brilliant smile adorning his face. "We are delighted to have you. Please follow me, you can sleep here in the guest bedroom. Y/N is right next door so you can go to her if you need anything."

You looked at your father with a deadpan expression, which he didn't seem to notice. Loki on the other hand was positively beaming back at your father.

"Thank you so much for the hospitality. I really cannot thank you enough."

Your father chuckled, "It's no trouble at all. Any guest of the Grandmaster's is a guest of mine. So please, make yourself at home."

"Thank you again. I am quite tired so I think I'll be heading to bed. Goodnight Holden, goodnight Y/N." He bowed and went to his chambers without another word.

You looked incredulously at your father but he seemed to not have a care in the world. He was awfully aloof when it came to matters dealing with the Grandmaster. Your father and the Grandmaster had a complicated relationship. You really had no clue what was going on with them. They called each other dear and said they loved each other, but you had seen the Grandmaster and your father doing a fair share of flirting with many men and women.

You walked to your own room with a heavy sigh. You stayed up for a few hours that night wondering about the man next door.

You quickly realized that the Grandmaster had taken a liking to Loki. The next morning you, your father, and Loki were having breakfast with the Grandmaster and Loki was hanging onto every word that came out of the man's mouth. You just knew that Loki didn't care. But what you want to know are his intentions. He randomly shows up on your planet and instantly catches the Grandmaster's attention.

You spend most of the morning with your father, preferring his company to the Grandmaster and his new pet. The next time you saw him was at lunch. And just like at dinner the previous night Loki was sitting right next to the Grandmaster. Instead of enduring the empty compliments that were coming from Loki you decided to sit farther down the table next to another one of your father's friends.

"Hello Marridija," you said as you sat down. Marridija was a very kind woman. Kind and very up to date on all the goings on at the palace. It was no surprise that she was close to the Grandmaster.

"Why hello Y/N. You aren't sitting at the front of the table today?" Her drawn-on eyebrows drew in and she tilted her head to the side slightly, making you worry that her hair, which was styled heavily with spray to keep it straight up, would tip over and ruin. Over the many years on Sakaar you had grown accustomed to the wild fashion in the palace. Everyone in the Grandmaster's group wore metallic face paint and did their hair as tall and elaborate as possible.

Out of everyone at the table Marridija had the craziest hair and brightest makeup. She always made sure she was seen in a crowd. Her hair was bubble gum pink and looked like cotton candy on top of her head. Her makeup was many bright streaks of pink, blue, and gold.

"No, not today. I thought I might try something new."

"Oh. Well I'm delighted that you decided to sit by me. I've been meaning to ask-" her eyes cut from you to something over your shoulder before returning to talking, "about your company last night."

You clenched your jaw for a second before you answered her. "What would you like to know?"

"Well… the whole palace wants to know about this mysterious man. Loki, he said." She was speaking in a hushed voice so no one other than you could hear her. If anyone heard her they would most definitely be listening in. But Marridija was good at being quiet when she needed to be. She wanted to be the first with fresh gossip, and for that she would have to hear it before anyone else.

“There isn’t much to tell really. As soon as we got home he went off to his bedroom.”

The woman narrowed her eyes for a second before giving a huff. “Oh Y/N, you won’t give an old lady a bit of juice now will you?” Her face changed from a pout to a sly smile a few seconds after she said that. “Or is there something you don’t want to share with me? A secret of your own perhaps?”

“Absolutely not Marridija. What I’ve told you is the truth. I’m sorry I have nothing juicy enough for your ears.”

You turned away from the woman and forward towards the table and the meal being set in front of you. Through the whole of breakfast you remained silent, listening to the chatter around you. There always seemed to be something to talk about on Sakaar, but with Loki’s arrival and the Grandmaster’s liking towards him has made Loki the center of attention.

After breakfast the guests were clearing out of the dining hall. The Grandmaster had dismissed everyone and he and Loki were the last to leave. You stuck around and when the Grandmaster went to use the restroom and left Loki unoccupied you walked up to him. A smile appeared on his face as he saw your smaller frame scowling at him as you neared. For whatever reason he was quite enjoying how frustrated he was making you, though he didn’t know what exactly was making you mad.

“Hello Y/N,” he greeted.

“Don’t act all innocent. You’re up to something.”

Loki’s eyebrows shot up but his smile remained. “And what would that be?”

“Well I’ve come to find that out.” You crossed your arms and planted your feet in front of Loki. It wasn’t your best look but you wanted to intimidate him. You knew it wasn’t going to be easy. He was taller than you and obviously confident enough to tell the Grandmaster it was a mistake to imprison him.

“I’m sorry to burst your bubble, as they say, but I don’t have anything planned. I landed here by mistake.” Loki said the words so simply you just couldn’t believe it. If he was telling the truth then it would take more than that to convince you.

“And why should I believe you?”

“Well I suppose you shouldn’t. You don’t know me, you don’t know my past or all the things I’ve done. Maybe we could spend some time together and you’ll realize I’m being honest.”

Loki wasn’t entirely sure why he said that last part. He had never offered to let someone get to know him. But a part of him also wanted someone to be able to talk to since he was all alone on a planet he was an outsider on. And it helped that he thought you were incredibly attractive.

You on the other hand didn’t know what to make of his words. If you accepted you might be falling right into his trap, into his plan. But on the other hand maybe he was being genuine. It surely wouldn’t hurt to find out more about him. If he was lying then you could possibly find out his intentions. So you thought the only logical decision would be to accept.

“Fine. After dinner we’ll go to my home and we can… get to know each other. But only because I want to know if you’re telling the truth.”

He laughed, “Of course, of course. See you then.”

The door you were standing next to opened and the Grandmaster himself walked out. He clasped his hands together and a smile appeared on his face. “Y/N! Thank you for keeping Loki company. Are you two getting along?”

You and Loki glanced at each other. There was no way you were going to say no, both of you had common sense. So you both put on a smile and looked as comfortable as possible.

“We are!” Loki said first. He put a huge grin on his face and leaned towards you, draping an arm around your shoulder. The sudden touch almost made you recoil, but if you did that it would look strange to the man that had just questioned your relationship.

“Well Loki and I should be going. I’ll see you at supper gorgeous.” The Grandmaster wiggled his fingers at you with an award winning smile. Loki took his arm off you and started following after him when the Grandmaster began to walk away. A hole might have been burnt into the back of Loki’s head from your staring. He was so puzzling. Irksome even.

The footsteps eventually faded as they walked further and further away from you and closer to wherever it was they were going. Your own slippered feet padded against the floor of the palace as you made your way down to the bottom level, outside, and safely in your home. It was a shame that most of the people your age were bounty hunters. You were all in all lonely. Maybe that’s what led you to agree to getting to know Loki.

You assumed he was around your age. He claimed to be a god after all, so he must be more than the average person.

Dinner rolled around and you went to the palace to eat as you did everyday. Loki was there. Though you knew he would be. You weren’t used to his presence just yet, so every time you saw him you were still slightly surprised. You were used to being around the ‘royalty’ of Sakaar for years and attending the same mundane events all the time. Loki was something new, something fresh. That’s why he was such a buzz on Sakaar. Especially when he made such an impression on the Grandmaster.

After the meal you went home and waited for Loki. You knew he would have to tell the Grandmaster some excuse for him to leave, so he was going to be a few minutes behind you.

Ten minutes after you had arrived home the door opened and Loki walked in. You couldn't help but laugh when you saw the exasperated expression on his face. You knew just how tiring the Grandmaster could be. Upon hearing the ring of your laughter Loki smiled. It was the first time he heard you make that sound and thought it was beautiful.

He slung his hair out of his face and slid into the white bar stool next to you at the kitchen island. You already had two glasses of champagne ready for the two of you. Assuming you would need it.

"What did you have to tell him to let you leave?" you asked, raising the glass to your lips.

"Well I told him I was tired and he just laughed it off then I said I was having an upset stomach and wasn't doing so well down there and he let me go."

Neither of you could hold back laughter. You were the first to start cracking up and seeing your reaction influenced Loki's joyous noise. The atmosphere was smooth and laid back. In preparation you had a drink beforehand, hence why you were so calm. Loki's smile and infectious attitude were also to blame.

In the time span of lunch and coming home you realized how ridiculous you were being. You had only just met Loki yesterday and you were already trying to accuse him of trying to harm the creator of your planet.

Once the laughter had died down you set your glass on the countertop and turned to Loki. "I'm sorry for how I've acted towards you. I haven't treated you fairly or given you a chance at all. I started jumping to conclusions and that was wrong of me. So I'm sorry, I hope you can forgive me."

“Wow- I- Yes I can forgive you. I understand where you were coming from. You care about the Grandmaster and don't want him to be in danger. I think that’s very noble of you.” The corners of Loki’s eyes crinkled up as he looked at you with a soft smile.

“Well… thank you. I’m glad we’re on good terms.” You gave him an awkward smile and took another sip of your drink. Loki picked up his own and took a sip of it.

"So your father and the Grandmaster… are they together?" he asked once his glass was empty.

“I’m not entirely sure. They’re relationship is complicated. I know they call each other love and darling but they also flirt and do things with other people too.” You cringed at the memory of coming home and hearing your father with one of his friends. But beside you Loki let out a chuckle. He was really enjoying getting to see this new side of you.

With a final tip of your flute you had finished your drink. Looking over you realized that Loki had too, so you stood and refilled it.

“I just realized I didn’t ask you if you wanted another glass,” you said when you had finished pouring.

He waved you off. “Don’t worry, I do.”

You slid his flute across the counter and leaned on it, not bothering to go back around to sit on the stool again. “So, you said that you ended up here by accident… what did you mean by that?”

“Ah, trying to find out if I’m lying again? I thought this was behind us,” he said.

“I’m not asking because of that. It is behind us. I want to know more about you and what you were doing before you got to Sakaar.”

He nodded. “Well I was with my brother. Though I don’t know why he hasn’t gotten here yet.”

“Time works differently here,” you interjected. “So if you both came through at the same time he might get here later than you did.”

“Ah okay, well that explains it then. Anyways, I was with my brother, Thor. My sister, Hela, has cast us out of Asgard and we need to get back there and defeat her. We don’t stand a chance though,” he explained.

“If you need help getting there then I’m sure my father and I can be of assistance.”

“I think I should wait for Thor to arrive, whenever that is…” he trailed off.

“He could show up any day. But while you’re here you can hang out with me.” “When you’re not with the Grandmaster that is,” you added.

“I don’t know how often I’ll be able to get away from him but I’ll definitely try.”

The last drops of your champagne slid down your throat as you smiled against your glass. You were really looking forward to getting to spend time with Loki.

For the next few days after that you guys were together any chance you got. The Grandmaster was keeping Loki close, but he was able to make up excuses to come see you when he could. Loki was like a breath of fresh air in your life. His life was a lot different than yours, but you found yourselves relating in multiple ways.

Every time you two were together all you could do was smile. It was like you had found your first true friend. But you knew that when Thor came that Loki would be leaving. Even though it was wrong you hoped that Thor wouldn’t arrive for a while just so you could have more time together.

It was a little over a week since Loki had arrived and you were laying next to each other on your leisure ship, staring up at the stars.

“It’s beautiful, everything here is,” Loki whispered. You were looking straight above you but when Loki was speaking he had turned his head towards you.

“It’s strange isn’t it? It’s called the trash or garbage planet but it’s dazzling if you take the time to look around.” When you finished speaking you rolled your head to the side to look at Loki. The whole time you were speaking he was memorizing every part of your face with a smile on his own. When you saw him smiling you shyly smiled too.

Without you realizing Loki reached his hand over and found yours. When he did he took it and interlocked your fingers. You looked down at your entwined hands. Your heart was racing and butterflies were filling your stomach.

No words were spoken, it was just the two of you underneath a blanket of twinkling stars wishing for something more. Loki’s hand was warm in yours, and you wished that same warmth would envelop your whole body. You scooted over closer and closer to the man until he wrapped his arm around you.

“This is nice,” you mumbled against his chest.

“It is. I like having you in my arms,” Loki whispered back.

You let your eyes close and the warmth and blissful feeling take over you. You woke up in bed, wrapped up in your covers. The sun was shining and filtering through your windows and splaying out on your floor. You thought back to last night and remembered you must have fallen asleep, which meant Loki must have taken you home and carried you to bed.

You walked out of your bedroom and stood right outside your door. You weren’t sure what time it was. It was morning that was obvious. Maybe it was early enough that Loki hadn’t been summoned by the Grandmaster yet. You walked over to the bedroom next to your own and knocked on the door.

“Come in,” Loki called out.

You opened the door and gently shut it back when you entered. Loki was still in bed but he was awake.

“Good morning beautiful,” he greeted you.

A tired smile went across your face as you sat down on Loki’s bed. He reached out to you and pulled you into him, setting you flush against his frame and placing a kiss on top of your head.

“How did you sleep?” he asked.

“I slept well. Thank you for bringing me back home.”

“It was my pleasure.” Loki tilted his head down and kissed the top of your head once more. His actions were so sweet you were feeling things you had never felt before. It was wild to you how quickly you had fallen for the God of Mischief.

After laying together for a few minutes there was a knock at the front door. You sighed and got out of Loki’s bed. The guards had arrived to escort Loki and you to breakfast with the Grandmaster. You both hurriedly got dressed and left to start your day.

For another two weeks things ran smoothly. You were happy. Loki was making you happy. But you knew that the day that Thor would arrive was approaching. It had been three weeks since Loki himself had fallen onto the planet, meaning his brother was not far behind.

You were sitting with Loki and mingling with other people in one of the palace rooms when Scrapper 142 announced she found someone. 142 was Grandmaster’s favorite scrapper. She brought him his champion after all. The person she had brought came into the room in the usual reinforced chair that all contenders usually did.

Loki was sitting next to you not paying any attention and neither were you until the man started yelling Loki’s name. You looked at him with confusion before you realized, it must be Thor.

When Thor finally got Loki’s attention he immediately stopped talking and got up. They were whispering back and forth fervently until the Grandmaster came up to them and interjected. They talked for a minute before Thor was thrown into the holding area for gladiators.

“That was your brother wasn’t it? Thor?” you asked when Loki came back over to you.

“Yes, yes it was.” He lowered himself back onto the couch and stayed quiet.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. I just… wasn’t expecting him.”

“Oh, okay.” You nodded. Not only did you understand but you felt the same way. You hoped maybe Thor would show up later, and give you more time. But no. He was there and when given the chance he was definitely going to leave. But that wouldn’t be too soon. If he was fighting the Grandmaster’s champion he may never leave. You had seen the green monster in action and he was brutal.

Later that day you and Loki were sitting in the upper class stands at the Grand Arena watching the fights. Loki was constantly wiping his palms on his pants and his leg was bouncing up and down. He had never seen the champion fight but you had told him how ferocious he was and that made Loki nervous.

The Grandmaster announced Thor and when he came out onto the dirt the crowd was filled with ‘boos’ and other jeers. The ring around the bottom of the stadium begins to rise to accommodate the height of Thor's opponent and the Grandmaster started to announce him.

“Ladies and gentlemen I give you… your Incredible…” he trailed off, or at least you thought he did because before he could say the actual name the fighter burst through the doors and yelled, “HULK!”

The blood drained from Loki’s face next to you. “I’ve got to get off this planet,” he mumbled.

“Why what’s wrong?” you asked, worried.

“The Grandmaster’s champion is an Avenger, just like Thor. And he’s defeated me.”

Down on the dirt Thor had looked up into your box and was yelling, “We know each other! He’s a friend from work.”

The Grandmaster’s mouth dropped open and he looked over at Loki, who was staring straight forward and clearing his throat.

Thor was making small talk with Hulk before you heard him look over and shout again, “Loki! Look who it is!”

You’d never seen Loki so nervous and afraid. You reached over and placed a hand on his arm. “It’ll be okay.”

Down below Hulk was tired of hearing Thor talk and started running towards him. The fight was in full force and Loki was getting more nervous by the second. Hulk was in it to win it, and he wasn’t sure if his brother would be able to make it out. Surprisingly Thor was able to hit Hulk, sending him all across the barrier on the arena. The crowd was silent as Thor neared Hulk. He placed his hand in Hulk’s massive one and started speaking, but you couldn’t tell what he was saying.

They weren’t fighting and everyone was still and watching. Then Hulk grabbed Thor and swung him back and forth, hitting him against the ground countless times. Loki jumped up, startling you, and shouted, “Yes that’s how it feels!”

The Grandmaster looked over at him questionably and Loki responded with, “I’m just a huge fan of the sport.” The Grandmaster didn’t say anything, just turned back toward the arena and laughed.

Loki sat back down and you looked at him with your eyebrows raised, “What was that about?”

“Well… Hulk did that to me a few years ago.”

“Really?” you laughed.

“Yes. It wasn’t one of my finest moments,” he chuckled. You both settled back down on the couch and focused on the match again. The fight progressed and favor switched between Hulk and Thor for a minute or two. The Grandmaster and Loki were leaning in and cringing depending on the blow and who it had landed on. But things weren’t looking good for Thor. Hulk had him pinned down and was beating him to death.

Blow after blow was pounding down right on Thor’s face. Then something happened. You strained your eyes to see that Thor’s eyes began to glow and lighting began to glow and crackle all around his body. He seemed to gather his strength for a second, wind back his hand and land a punch right to Hulk, sending him flying with an arch of lightning, resulting in a collective gasp from the stands.

Hulk collapsed yards away from Thor. The Grandmaster raised out of his seat, stepped forward and stared at the scene below you. The crowd was murmuring and whispering all kinds of things. You looked over at Loki, who had his elbows propped up on his knees with his mouth wide open.

Thor and Hulk both stood up and ran towards each other, jumping and then hitting one another. It was like a mini-explosion where Thor’s fist collided with Hulk. You were on the edge of your seat. It seemed like Thor could win. The crowd sure seemed to think so because they were chanting, “Thunder! Thunder! Thunder!”

Your full attention was drawn on the arena and a perplexed expression crossed your face when Thor violently shook and then fell to the ground. You looked around and saw the Grandmaster pointing his activator down at Thor, activating his Obedience Disk. You couldn’t believe it. If the Grandmaster wouldn’t have interfered then Thor could have won. He could be freed.

The Grandmaster stood up with a smile and started his projection onto the center of the arena, “Well done! Well done! Two very good fighters, but it looks like my champion has defended his title once again. Thank you everyone for attending today, I hope to see you at the next battle!”

His projection disappeared and people started to file out of the stands. You could tell by the silence that followed that the Grandmaster wasn’t too happy. He walked out of the room followed by guards, leaving everyone else alone. Loki was leaning back on the couch next to you slack-jawed.

“That wasn’t fair,” you breathed out.

He shook his head, “No, no it wasn’t.”

“At least he didn’t die. He should be okay for now,” you said, talking about Thor.

“Thank god.”

You and Loki returned home and sat down on the living room couch. You never got the chance to talk about Thor’s arrival but now no one else was around.

“You might be leaving soon,” you said.

“I may.” Loki reached his hand over and took one of yours in his. You couldn’t mistake the sadness in his voice.

“I won’t make you stay. If you need to go then you should.” You looked at Loki with pure earnestness in your eyes. It hurt to say it, but if Loki and his brother needed to leave then you didn’t want to be the reason they didn’t.

“Y/N I don’t want to go. I want to stay here… with you.”

“What about your sister? Didn’t you say she was trying to take over Asgard, your home?” you questioned with a soft voice.

“Yes but- we don’t stand a chance. If we go we’ll only die. There’s no hope for us.”

You faced your whole body towards him and dipped your head down so Loki could see your face. “You don’t know that. You’re strong and I know you aren’t a coward.”

He stayed quiet but squeezed your hand and met your eyes.

“If you need to go, don’t let me hold you back,” you repeated.

Loki strained up and gave a stern look forward as he nodded his head. “You’re right. I do need to go. Asgard is my home.” He bent his head towards you and spoke, “But I want to make my time with you count.” He leaned in and tilted his head, eyes trained on your lips. You also leaned in and closed your eyes, letting yourself dissolve into the tender kiss.

It heated up quickly, pants filling the air between you every time you parted. You crawled on top of him, straddling his lap. His hands glided from your shoulder blades to your butt, caressing you.

You pulled away and opened your eyes for a second, your face only inches from his. “Should we take this to my room?”

“Yes, we should.” Loki raised up, holding you in his arms and carrying you to your room. You slid out of his arms right in front of the foot of your bed. He started undressing, pulling off his cape, boots, and other components of his complicated outfit. Yours was much easier to get off. All you did was kick off your slippers and undo your dress in the back and let it pool at your feet.

The whole process took a few minutes and you giggled when you had to help Loki undress.

“This is a mood killer,” Loki sighed.

“It’s okay,” you giggled. You pulled off the last garment including Loki’s underwear and he turned around to let you see him. He was so beautiful, every single thing about him. You could definitely believe he was a god, because he sure looked like one. Your wandering eyes made him chuckle, but he couldn’t say anything because he was doing the same.

His hands hovered over your hips, almost like he was afraid to touch you or else you would crumble in front of him. You smiled up Loki and put your hands over his, guiding them to your bare skin. He sharply inhaled as he felt how smooth and warm your skin was. He let out a small laugh in disbelief. He couldn’t imagine himself ever being so lucky as to have you.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him down to kiss you. He lifted you up again and walked over to your bed until his knees hit the edge. He crawled on and lowered you down onto the fluffy pillows. Your body was on display for him and he was completely swooning over you.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered in awe.

“And you,” you reached up and pulled him closer to you by his shoulders, “are very handsome.”

He smiled and pressed a kiss to your cheek. Since he was already down there he crept lower and lower, placing gentle kisses from your cheek all the way down to your lower stomach. Your breath hitched as his breath fanned over your vagina. He gave it a small kiss before he leaned back. He replaced his mouth with his fingers, sliding them up and down your folds before inserting one.

He surveyed your face as he began to curl his finger making you start moaning quietly.

“Does it feel good?” he asked tentatively.

“Yes,” you moaned out.

He smiled and continued to work you up, building the pressure inside your lower stomach. You couldn’t keep your eyes open. You tried to, but with all the new feelings going on you were squeezing them shut. Loki frowned and cupped your cheek with his hand, rubbing it with his thumb.

“Princess, will you look at me?” he asked. You opened your eyes and did as he asked. You kept your eyes open but your lids were only half open.

You loved the way his fingers felt but you wanted more- you wanted him. “Loki- Loki I want you inside me.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m positive.”

He pulled his fingers out and wrapped that hand around his cock, pumping it and getting it ready to be inside you. He spread your legs further than they already were and walked forward on his knees until his tip was right against your entrance. You put his hand around it and guided it in slowly, letting you adjust to the length.

Your hands were on either side of your pillow and you were squeezing it. It wasn’t very painful, but it didn’t feel right to just have your hands open, so you clenched them around your silk pillowcase. Loki saw them and put his own hands on top of yours. As he rolled his hips into you that’s what kept him stable.

“Darling, you make me feel-” he moaned, “so good.”

The inside of you was warm and velvety, encasing his dick in a personal heaven. In just a few minutes he knew what was going to come. Him.

Loki was making you feel just as good as you were making him, if not better. You weren’t a virgin. You had lived long enough to want men and take them back home with you. But none of them were making you feel the way Loki was. He knew exactly what to do, what pace to go at, and all the right words to say. The gentle moans and vulnerable face were so beautiful above you that tears were staining your cheeks.

Worry crossed Loki’s face, he thought you were hurting. “Are you okay?” he asked quickly.

“I’m fine, you’re just- you’re so beautiful.”

He choked out a laugh and regained his original pace. The compliment had warmed his entire body. He was on cloud nine. There was a growing sensation in his lower region and he could feel his orgasm coming.

“I’m about to cum,” he panted.

“Go ahead darling, cum for me,” you returned. His eyes widened but he went ahead, cock stiffening before releasing his cum.

You moaned, head falling to the side from the buzz traveling through your body. You arched your back in an attempt to hurry your own orgasm along. You could feel it approaching but it couldn’t get there soon enough for you. Loki thrusted faster and tried to hit that spot that he knew you had. He succeeded, and an overwhelming pleasure drifted through you.

Your walls clenched around his dick and your own juices squirted out. You sniffed and wiped your tears, opening your eyes to see Loki’s face in complete and utter amazement. You laughed a little as he pulled out of you and rolled over to be by your side.

“What was that face for?” you asked.

“That was the best I’ve ever felt. You are… perfect in every way.”

“I feel the same about you.” You turned on your side and placed a hand on his cheek, just like he had done to you a few minutes prior.

He nuzzled closer to you, putting his face in the crook of your neck. “I’ll come back for you. I promise,” he whispered.

“I’ll be waiting,” you responded while stroking his hair.

Taglist: @deanscroissant

[osmiquatar]

Lost At Sea

I decided to try my hand at writing a short vore flash fiction! I’ll be honest I’m not the happiest with the end result but I figured someone out there might! So uhh..... enjoy?

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Rumors are interesting things, as they usually start off a true story, but due to constant retelling, they become legends and the truth behind them becomes questionable. The sailors who have traveled these waters know the legends of the giant kraken merman who only comes out at night. Some say a purple glow fills the sea when he is about to strike. Others say that he has a voice that is deep and booming and echoes with the power of the abyss itself. Still others say that he has enormous tentacles that can drag a ship to the ocean’s depths with minimal effort. Many sailors live in terror of him appearing and will do their best to never sail at night. And if they do, they throw a gold coin off the edge with a prayer that he will leave them alone that night.

Now, there was a ship full of pirates who sailed these waters, who used the tale to their advantage. If they looted and murdered and sank a ship and their crew in the middle of the night, the blame would usually be placed on the kraken. Then they could get away scot free. “The kraken’s a myth, just like the boogeyman and Davy Jones.” They would laugh.

It was a night much like many others upon the clear blue seas. Gaerstak was swimming along beneath the surface looking for ships. Despite the legends, he never wanted to sink any of those ships. He merely wanted to watch the adorable little humans, and listen to them singing their sea shanties. He just wanted friends. He only sank the ships reflexively whenever the crews would panic and start firing cannons at him. They hurt after all, and he needed them to stop! But regardless, his eyes widened when he saw a burning wreck of a ship, with a small rowboat slowly paddling away. As he drew closer, his sensitive ears could pick up the sound of crying from the boat. He knew he had to investigate, the rowboat was so far from shore, and a storm was coming.

Marcus was having a bad day. The teen had just joined the crew of a merchant ship to get a little money and see the world with some friends, and now he was in a rowboat in the middle of the ocean, the only light being the burning and sinking grave for his friends. He swore against the pirates that had assaulted the ship and wiped the tears from his eyes, feeling defeated, when a purple glow seemed to fill the ocean around him. His eyes widened. The tales were true? That old man in his village wasn’t crazy, there was actually a giant kraken in the waters! He held onto the sides of his boat as the waves grew larger as the shape of a large head slowly peeked above the surface, ocean water cascading from him like a waterfall. He stared in slack-jawed awe as more and more emerged before an enormous pale grey head was fully out of the water, looking down at him.

The figure was eerie, not quite fully human in the head. The skin was greyish white, and the hair was like sturdy rope. Streaks of purple bioluminescence ran through his hair, glowing in the night. His eyes were proportionally larger than a human’s and stared at him with hardly hidden curiosity. There were no visible ears, but Marcus could see glimpses of little circular pads on the sides of his head. He swallowed nervously and fell back on his butt.

“A-are you here to finish me off?”

Gaerstak looked confused. “Finish you off? I’m here to offer my help...” he mumbled. despite trying to mumble, his voice still boomed like thunder, bordering on subsonic.

Now it was Marcus’s turn to look confused.

“But... the stories all said to fear your wrath and pray we never met...”

Gaerstak sighed, closing his eyes and shaking his head. “That’s why... well, I never want to sink the ships. I show up and everyone panics and starts shooting at me... I just want friends...”

Even as Marcus recoiled from the force of the voice rattling his heart in his ribs, he could hear and feel the loneliness in the giant merfolk’s voice. It was the same feeling that drove him out to sea after all, and his expression softened.

“Oh I see... I’m sorry big guy, I didn’t mean to jump to conclusions...”

Gaerstak tilted his head. “You’re not scared of me?”

“If I’m being honest, I’m terrified. But I know the feeling you are talking about, it’s why I came out to sea.”

Gaerstak seemed to light up at that, and rose a bit higher out of the water, his shoulders breaching the surface. His eyes were drawn to something on the horizon and his expression fell.

“Look, I need you to trust me alright? There’s an enormous storm coming, and in that little rowboat you will 100% drown. I can help you avoid the storm, but I need you to trust me. I swear you will not come to harm, what do you say?” He asked, eyeing the rapidly approaching storm clouds.

Marcus glanced behind him, eyes widening as he saw the approaching wall of death, now close enough to see it. He turned back to Gaerstak. “I don’t know if I really have a choice, but I trust you. My name is Marcus, may I at least know yours?”

Gaerstak smiled. “My name is Gaerstak. Now hold on to your boat and don’t let go.”

He lowered himself so that his mouth was on level with the water, and lifted much of his body so it would be almost parallel. He opened his mouth wide, causing Marcus to let out a panicked scream as a current of water flowing into the mouth caused his boat to be sucked in as well. He clutched the boat for dear life as Gaerstak’s throat opened up, swallowing the boat down like it was nothing. The reason he went parallel was clear, so that instead of a vertical drop down his throat, it formed more like a slide that the boat could ride the water down. Marcus wondered if the whole thing had been a trick, as his boat splashed down into the cavernous stomach of the chubby kraken. Gaerstak righted himself and let himself sink below the surface to avoid the storm.

Marcus took some breaths to calm himself as he reminded himself that he said he would trust Gaerstak that he would be safe. So he took a moment to look around the stomach. It was dimly lit by more of the same purple bioluminescence that gave the kraken’s hair its purple glow, allowing himself to see around the enormous cavern. Looking down he gasped in surprise, as in the water below the boat, schools of fish were swimming around, and even some plant life was starting to grow. Gaerstak giggled, and Marcus heard it booming around him like the voice of god.

“The stomach my human mouth leads to is completely safe.” He said, floating weightlessly underwater and holding his stomach. “It is far too weak to digest anything, leading it to become its own ecosystem entirely contained within me. I promised I could keep you safe, and so I did. You could live comfortably in there for days, or even weeks, though I imagine you would want to see the sun eventually.”

“This is incredible...” Marcus said, his voice echoing in the cavern. “Are you able to hear me?”

“Better than on the surface, now that you’re inside of me.” Gaerstak said with another booming laugh. “....but thank you for trusting me and not trying to flee, it’s been far too long since I had someone to converse with.”

Marcus smiled and relaxed in his boat. “I think I’m the one who should be thanking you for saving my life.”

And so they stayed like that for a while, waiting for the storm to pass, enjoying the newfound bond of friendship they had with each other.

[dragonrajafanfiction]

Dragon Song

The 3E exam was Toyama’s most difficult day. Afterwards, he always had to do a difficult counseling and comfort session with all the students about their visions. And for some who didn’t make the cut, his sessions would include brainwashing and memory wiping to make them forget everything about Cassell so they could go home and continue their lives, ignorant of everything they experienced here. 

He made his way back to his office and sat behind the desk.

He sighed and cleaned his glasses while he waited. No one ever knew what was going on in there. Only those who were monitoring with the cameras namely EVA. Whatever happened, the medical team was ready to take care of it.

But he felt the muscles in his neck were tense and his heart was beating faster than normal. His analytical brain told him he was worried about Tigre. Even though he told himself it was pointless to worry about him, that his fate was with the College now, he couldn’t stop.

So he spoke to himself in casual calm language. “I think its time to admit, that your care for that boy has gone beyond what is professional.” He slid the glasses onto his nose. 

“You could barely leave him there properly without tears coming right? That’s why you left so abruptly. Right now the test is starting and his dragonblood is waking up. He might attack the students inside once he realizes what he is. And then he has no future. You tried. You did all you could. But it’s possible he was doomed from the start.”

“But the heart will do what it will do. Heh... you’re not immune, Toyoma-kun.” He chuckled to himself. “But you cannot drink. Your students will need you now more than ever. You can go drink later.”

The phone, a traditional rotary, rang loudly in the silence. He picked up. “Toyama speaking.”

The raspy inhale told him who was speaking. Schneider’s voice came over the earpiece, “I can patch you into the feed. I would like you to watch.”

“Watch the boy turn into a monster? I don’t think so...”

“That’s not what’s happening. I’ll send the link to your cell.”

Toyama’s cellphone let up and he cradled the landline against his ear while he clicked the link provided.

The video feed showed the classroom. 

Normally the 3 E was absolute mayhem as each of the students’ minds were lost in the sound, like listening to a favorite song, the mind wandered and the body followed and they were compelled to write down their visionary inscriptions on the paper or on whatever other surface they could find. But what Toyama saw made his jaw drop in shock.

Tigre was singing.

He wasn’t just singing, he was singing with a smile of rapturous joy, tears pouring down his face. He wasn’t writing down his answers, he was singing them, speaking each dragon word in turn. As the dragon verses shifted, he would listen briefly and his eyes closed and he would hold in hands to his chest, his face beaming with joy before belting out a full throated perfect rendition of that Yanling.

Toyama felt his eyes burn and quickly blinked away tears for a moment. Relief washed over him like a flood and his smile started to echo Tigre’s. He felt proud that Tigre was succeeding. He wasn’t just performing well on the test, but he wasn't being violent. Quite the opposite. He was joyous, happier than Toyama had ever seen him.

But then in the next moment Toyama’s blood ran cold.

Dragon language wasn’t just words. They were commands. They could impose a rule upon an area to control the elements. They could command a forest to burn. They could command a storm, a drought, a flood, an earthquake, or lightning. Some abilities were so strong, they would destroy the user. If it wasn’t for the restriction placed on the use of this sacred speech by the College’s alchemical array, Tigre would have joyfully sang out and destroyed the entire college and possibly all of Chicago.

“Dear... God...” Toyama whispered. “Is he a Dragon King?”

“No. If he was, we would have erased him and shoved his body in the Ice Cellar. But he is a hybrid of Dragon King level resonance. He’s different from the other hybrids in other ways too. We’ve run other tests. Nothing about this man is natural... and yet everything is.”

“Is this why you have brought him here? Why you were interested?”

“I’m afraid that’s all I can tell you. We’re still studying. In the meantime, you should probably go out to meet him. He doesn’t have anyone else to talk to.”

Schneider hung up the phone. Toyama was brought back to reality. Yes he did feel fond of Tigre... but he was still a doctor and Tigre was his patient. He would have to carefully maintain his mind so he didn’t go berserk and bring ruin to the college. He stood up and made his way back to the library. When he came back outside, the thunderstorm had intensified. Lightning cut across the sky and thunder roared, as thought the sky itself were cracking apart. The trees swayed heavy in the wind.

----

When Tigre came out of his trance, his throat hurt, his jaw hurt and his face was sticky with tears. He was shaking and exhausted. He wasn’t at his desk any more but standing in the middle of the room. He wanted to see Toyama and tell him that he wasn’t mad at him for leaving him alone. So when he found him waiting outside, he ran up to him and hugged him, babbling uncontrollably all sorts of silly things while Toyama told him to get some rest while stroking his hair. 

He suddenly realized after that that other students were filing out. All the other students looked exhausted and limp. He turned to them with a joyous face, but they all just flinched away from him, looking at him with tear streaked faces. Even Porsche, who seemed vibrant and sassy before, hugged her two sisters while crying uncontrollably. Celeste glared at him accusingly and Tigre flinched away. 

“Don’t mind them. Most people don’t experience joy like yours.” Toyama pulled him away from the other students. “I will have to go help them with their feelings.”

Tigre was confused. Why would anyone be sad about what he’d just heard? “Toyama-san, I saw something amazing. You knew right? You knew what I was!”

“I had no idea exactly what you were.” Toyama said patiently. “No one did. Your vision is one that’s personal to you, something deep in your heart.”

Tigre reached up and touched his chest. “But... I don’t have anything there.”

“Maybe that’s...” Toyama wanted to say ‘for the best’ but he didn’t finish his sentence. “I have to go. You’re a student now, so you’re free to roam about as you like. Stay out of trouble. Okay?”

“Okay...” Tigre said meekly and watched Toyama walk towards the three sisters. Only Celeste wasn’t crying, she only looked extremely angry.

No one was happy, except for him.

He walked out to stare at the pouring rain in the entrance. He looked up at the sky that also seemed to be sad. But why? Those voices in his head were still ringing. He could recite every single word. But he whispered them, staying quiet. He continued to whisper those sacred words into the grey. They were still beautiful in his ears.

“Do you not have an umbrella?” 

His dampened mood rose again! “Chu Zihang!”

Without thinking he hugged the flinching man who just tolerated it. 

Tigre released him quickly. “Oh... I’m sorry.”

“It’s normal to be emotional after this. I’m happy you made it. The results will take a few hours to process, but Schneider sent me to congratulate you. He’s my mentor.” Chu Zihang’s eyes were dark and not the yellow he remembered.

“You wear contacts too.” Tigre realized.

“Yes. Toyama explained?” Chu Zihang raised his umbrella. It was large enough for both of them as they walked. He was calm like a granite stone. Tigre was a raw nerve of emotion.

“Yes. I remembered looking into your eyes and feeling something through them like what I heard today. No wonder I recognized you! You  really are my brother! But for the other students, they were very sad. I don’t... understand why...” He looked back at the Library that was shrouded in the rain.

“You’d have to ask them personally. I can’t speak for them. When my dragonblood awoke, I saw a very disturbing image myself. And then something tragic happened. So that memory is sad for me too.”

“Is that why its raining?” Tigre mumbled.

Zihang tilted his head. “I don’t think emotions can effect the weather. Though many people associate rain with sadness. In truth a tropical wave has been pushed up from the gulf by the jet stream.”

“Oh.” Was all Tigre should say, understanding nothing.

“You’re still shaken up. Let me get you something to eat. You’ll be hungry.” 

"Ah! You’re right! My stomach is growling a lot!” Tigre said in shock.

“You must have resonated very strongly. You were just standing there in the entrance to the library staring into space and now you didn’t realize you were hungry...”

“It was wonderful.” He breathed. “I wish I could listen to it again. I’ll listen to it forever.”

Chu Zihang glanced down at him and didn’t comment.

“Have you been out of the hospital long? Why didn’t you visit me?” Tigre bounced along deliberately splashing in the puddles.

“I was recovering still and then after that, Schneider kept me updated on your progress. I couldn’t visit you because visits were not permitted while you adjusted to life outside of prison.”

“Oh... we’re going to your dorm?” He asked recognizing the residential building. 

“Yes. I want to introduce you to a few of my friends. One of them, Lu Mingfei is also looking forward to seeing you.”

“Oh Okay... neat.”

Chu Zihang opened the door to the dorm and there were many people there! It was like a party! When he saw all these people. He was moved to tears again! He covered his eyes with his arm. “Sorry!”

One of them, a dark haired Chinese boy chuckled. “Don’t worry. Everyone cried at my 3E. You’re fine.”

Chu Zihang introduced him. “This is Lu Mingfei. He’s the president of the Student Union...”

“Kinda sorta... really I just kinda hang out here while other people do things for me.” He said bashfully.

A tall muscular blond grinned. “I’m Finger Von Frings.”

“And I’m Susie. Congratulations. Sounds like you passed.” She was a petite Chinese girl, making her the third Chinese in the group.

“I’m Zero. Pleasure.” Said a soft spoken blond girl with a Russian accent, who looked bored to be there.

“This is for you.” Chu Zihang handed him a small box covered in paper and a ribbon, like one of those Christmas gifts he’d seen in pictures.

“Thank you... can I open it?”

“If you want.” Chu Zihang mumbled.

Tigre pulled the ribbon and then opened the box after carefully shredding the paper. Inside was a brand new tablet computer. “It will be useful for studying.”

“Wow... thank you!” He laughed. Then he paused. “What is it?”

[nightsonights]

one shot- n.m + z.k

masterlist

summary: after a heated fight with zion, you go to the prettymuch house for space but instead you find something else.

warnings: slight cursing

part two here

•••

i blotted my bloodshot eyes against my cotton hoodie as i rang the doorbell once more; attempting to subside the puffyness of my eye lids.

i listened in prolonged silence as the artificial bell rang throughout the house; instilling it’s demanding demeanour into anyone who listened.

as i waited anxiously, my attention turned to the little things that left me vulnerable under the dim porch light illuminating the domestic pavement of the prettymuch driveway.

my poorly painted toenails. the course hairs sticking out of my satin bonnet. my blotched cheeks and the smallness of my eyes.

*”i love you.”*

there are no other words in the english language that could accurately and explicitly describe the act of loving someone.

to many, the phrase was thrown around at the beginnings of casual toxic affairs or during the aftershock of one night stands.

but to zion and i, it was a phrase that defined the foundations of our relationship.

loving each other through our flaws and weaknesses. through our greatest achievements and adventures.

loving each other so much that you can’t imagine a life without one another.

*”do you even love me anymore?”*

i didn’t want to notice the small differences. zion retreating to his side of the bed every night.

the lack of intimacy; the nimble touches and simmering kisses.

the lingering pulls of his blunt during the periods of darkness.

*”i don’t know”*

anything would have been better than obtaining the knowledge that my boyfriend didn’t love me. the boy that i saw my entire future with didn’t love me anymore.

i brushed away the tears running a fresh trail down my flushed cheeks. my fingers trembled in disinclination to ring the doorbell again, coming to terms with the personal stupidity of the situation.

look at me. i have no one to turn to in my time of grief besides my boyfriend’s friends. i had turned into the girl i never want to be.

i was the girl who built her life dependently around a man.

and now i had nothing to show for it besides the theoretical tearing of my apposing ventricles.

i turned away from the door shamefully; mustering the little pride simmering inside of me to walk away from the porch.

“y/n?”

i hesitated before turning adjacent to the previously closed entrance, my glossy eyes meeting the stature of nick.

a singular gold link chain hung dominantly against his collarbone, the speckles of gold reflecting onto the cursive ink imprinted into his chest.

nick rubbed the grogginess out of the slant in his eyes. his eyebrow arched as he acknowledged my distressed state.

“you alright?” he inquired.

“i’m sorry, i’m okay. i didn’t realize how late it was. forget i was even here” i disregarded sheepishly, wanting nothing more than to forget this moment of vulnerability.

“nah, it’s fine. you shouldn’t be out here alone. come inside” nick pleaded. he stepped aside and held the wooden door open, the dark of his eyes silently negotiating with my melodramatic subconscious.

i reluctantly caved in, simply feeling the weight of my feet brush over the welcome mat and onto the wood panels of the prettymuch house.

“you good? did zion do something?” nick asked, examining the dried streaks of salt down my cheeks.

“nah, it’s nothing nick” i brushed off passively, ”i just needed some space.”

“you sure? let me talk to him” nick suggested, shutting the door behind me. his eyes bore into me, a subconscious pout painted on his lips.

“nick please don’t. i don’t wanna talk about it. i-i” i chocked, my lips quivering in place of my speech.

i hung my head in shame at the tremble of my voice; my cheeks burning in forlorn anticipation. i could feel the rays of curiosity radiate off of nick but i couldn’t find it within myself to express my hardships.

nick’s hand fell on the hard of my shoulder blade, rubbing reassuringly against the cotton twill of my hoodie.

“he just... he just really said some shit this time. i-i’m sorry” i sniffled, harshly rubbing away the dampness in my eyes.

nick slowly engulfed me in his warm embrace; his large hands apologetically rubbing the small of my back. i returned the hug; my fingertips feeling cold against the bare of his back.

i basked in the comforting enclasp that surrounded me; missing the feeling of knowing i was loved. knowing i had someone in my corner during my time of grief. knowing i had someone who just wanted to see me happy.

as we pulled away, my lips curled into a partial grin.

“thanks. sorry once again” i mumbled, my voice waving with the guilt that consumed me.

“anytime. don’t be sorry. you’re always welcome here.”

we stared at each other in blissful silence before nick slowly inched his face forward. he gently cupped the contour of my jaw and pressed his lips firmly against mine.

his lips molded against the plump flesh surrounding my mouth; finding refuge in the forbidden movements.

for a split second, i found comfort in his touch. in the light scent of his cologne. the way his hands curved against the flesh of my cheekbones.

but my body immediately tensed up; acknowledging the universal embargo that prohibited this moment. i pulled away, breath uneasy as i stared in perplexity at the face of my boyfriend’s best friend.

nick’s peachy complexion transitioned to a ghostly grey as he struggled to comprehend the situation he’d gotten into.

“holy shit. im so sorry” he breathed, both of you distancing the space between you.

“oh my god. what the fuck” i gasped. i clasped my hands over my eyes, rubbing the arches of my eyebrows as i let out a collective sigh.

“i-i don’t know what came over me” nick stammered.

“he’s your best friend! he’s my boyfriend!” i chastised, already feeling the guilt overwhelm me.

“i know, i’m sorr-“

“stop apologizing! sorry isn’t gonna fix any of this! h-he can never never know about this,” i ranted, trying to grasp the entirety of what happened, “oh my god. he will never forgive me.”

“y/n, it didn’t mean anything. yo-you were crying an-and i wanted-“

“nick please just shut up! i-i can’t. i can’t. goodnight.” i turned my back on nick and made my melancholic strides towards the isolated guest bedroom.

i slammed the door behind me, pressing the curve of my vertebrae against hard of the wood. i glanced upon the shadow of the neatly made bed in the dark of the room.

“fuck” i mumbled to myself. i closed my eyes at the growing headache forming at my temples.

violently kicked off my slippers, i shoved the duvet to a side.

i curled my limbs underneath the sheets and forcefully closed my eyes; allowing the darkness to entangle itself with my welcoming grief.

[sevi007]

A hat makes (no) cowboy

So some of you might remember how a comment a la “Dante sure wanted to be a cowboy as a kid, look at his newest weapon” by myself turned into @rex101111 and me writin half a story about Dante, his hat, one god-awful cowboy accent and mostly Lady suffering from it. 

Well, that half-story is now a full story, and it took some... interesting turns ;)

Fandom: Devil May Cry

Rating: Teen and up Audiences / Gen

Summary: One hat, a joking comment and Dante being, well, Dante, that’s all it takes to turn one quiet afternoon at the Devil May Cry shop into a war. In the end, nobody can say they are really surprised by the situation itself... just by what they might discover because of it.

Read it on AO3

"GOTCHA!" 

With one final swing, Dante sent the last of the demons flying into a wall. Their forms quickly fell apart at the seams and turned to dust, leaving behind only the impression on the concrete. Dante reached out a hand, making a beckoning motion, before a red streak flew from the broken wall and into his palm with a quite buzz.

"That thing is pretty impressive." Lady commented dryly as she yanked her bayonet from a pron Frost, looking at Dante from the corner of her eye. "You know...for a hat."

Dante placed the hat on his head with a quick flick of his finger and a light smirk. "I like it! It's got a load of style to it."

Lady scoffed, "style wouldn't be the word I'd use but-"

"Yeah!" Nico interrupted suddenly, peaking her head out from a pile of grey, twitching limbs with a giddy smirk. "It kinda makes ya look like a cowboy!"

Dante freezes, and whips his head to face the direction of Nico's voice. "Really?"

"Yeah really! Straight out of an Eastwood film, dude!"

Dante blinked his eyes numbly for a few seconds, the idea slowly rolling around in his head, before his face lit up like a blinking land mine and a manic smirk dominated his features. "Well, ain't that a hoot n' a half..."

Lady groaned, already knowing what was to come. "Now look what you did!"

"Did what?"

"It seems that our work here is finished." Dante said of a sudden, his voice starting out normal before slowly shifting, inching towards what can only be called a drawl. "But, we can't rest our head yet, pardners. There are always more outlaws for us to corral before they get up to no good." 

Lady rubbed her temples and took in a very quick, sharp breath. "Okay, I can see where this is going." She claps twice in mock praise as a scowl grows on her face. "Hardy-har Dante, you got a hat and you're a cowboy good for you." She pointed behind her to the pile of dead demons. "Now let's pack up and get to the client so we get payed."

"Now hold on there Missy!" Dante pointed dramatically at her, the other hand placed on the top of his hat as if to hold in place against some nonexistent wind. "You wouldn't happen to be questioning my authority on this matter now?" He made a gun motion with his outstretched hand in mock threat that made Lady want to roll her eyes right out of her head. "Because if you are...there might be some consequences to it."

"Dante for the love of God you can't be serious-"

It was too late, Dante had fully committed to his newly adopted western inspired persona, fanning out the end of his coat in a manner meant to be impressive (which failed miserably) before once more pointing at her, this time with even more dramatic gravitas. "Them's fighting words! You leave me no choice pardner..." He lifts the brim of his hat with his second hand and grins with all of his teeth at her, “Pistols at noon! You and me cowpoke!”

 Lady stared at him without a word for a whole two minutes.

And then she shot him in the head. 

And then she walked over to him, where he was still grumbling about how much that stung, and yanked the damn hat off of his head and started stomping on it despite his protests.

She shot it a couple of times too for good measure.

Dante picked up the remains of his poor, abused, hat, cut down in the prime of its life, “Why?”

Lady stared him dead in the face, expression stone still, “I made a vow to destroy evil.” 

Silence.

“Also, you’re annoying enough without having an excuse to talk with that godawful western accent.”

He waited, (clearly not pouting, he was a grown man, he did not pout, thank you very much) until Lady seemed to be out of earshot, before he leaned over to Nico. The girl had witnessed the whole spectacle from where she had been digging through the rubble left by Lady’s latest hunt, looking for scraps of demons the older woman had torn apart with her attacks that she could use in her newest weapon creation.

Now the young woman was barely holding in the loud laughter threatening to spill, but managed an inquiring noise as she caught his gaze.

“Do you think you can fix this up?”

A smothered sound, a giggle, and then a cleared throat before she became stern again. “Count on me, cowboy!”

Dante’s grin went from ear to ear as he put on his best (worst) drawl. “Don’t know what I would do without ya, lassie!”

Nico snorted, a loud, delighted noise. “Oh my god, you’re worse than grandma told me.”

“That a good thing?”

“The best. Now give me that mistreated thingy, I’m gonna make it better than it ever was.”

“Off you go,” Dante paused, considered, “Make it more durable, perhaps?”

“Demon-durable or Lady-durable?”

“Both. Mostly the later.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ D ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Lady had never felt such utter and complete betrayal in her entire life from another human being (except the obvious, of course) as she stared at the offending headwear, patched up and reinforced with carbon fiber of all things.

Dante sauntered over, thumbs in the waist of his pants and a tooth pick in his mouth - oh for the love of god were those spurs on his shoes - and grinned so smugly she was tempted to shoot him in the teeth on principal alone.

“Well howdy there pardner.” His grin grew when one of Lady’s eyes twitched. “Fancy seeing you around these parts.” He pointed up to his hat. “I see you eyeballin’ my hat, purdy ain’t it?”

“Dante for the love of God that’s a fucking trucker accent-”

“Now I know you must be hankerin’ to bust it up like before,” He continued, ignoring her, “but you should know-”

Lady whipped out one of her machine guns, and unloaded the entire magazine directly into that vile piece of leather and demonic metal.

Damn thing didn’t even flinch.

“-My associate here gave it an upgrade.” He pointed to Nico, who was standing by his side this whole time, nearly bent over in held back laughter.

“Bullet proof hat!” She exclaimed at Lady, eyes shining with excitement, “I love working with you guys I never would have thought of this one.”

“You,” Lady started, eyes digging through Nico as well as any bullet, “are a traitor to the whole of humanity.”

“Oh relax.” Nico waved her off with little care. “Just let the man have his dumb fun, besides I made this thing 100% Lady-proof, there ain’t a damn thing you can do to it to damage or destroy it.”

Lady raised an eyebrow, holstered her machine gun, and reached back to put a hand on Kalina Ann.

“…Except that maybe.”

Dante whipped his head to Nico, “You forgot about the damn rocket launcher!?”

“She has like twenty different guns!” Nico protested, panic seeping into her voice. “How do you expect me to keep track!?”

“Nico.” Lady intoned mildly, aiming the large barrel of her prized weapon directly at Dante’s face. “Take ten steps back.”

Nico took one look at the bazooka, than another look at Dante, switching between the two a few more times before turning on her heel and legging it.

“Later partner!”

“Lady was right! You ARE a traitor!”

A soft click of a trigger reached Dante’s sensitive ears.

“Oh dagnabbit.”

A massive explosion rocked the immediate area, sending plumes of smoke and fire into the air along with a few chunks of concrete, charred black from the blast.

Lady put Kalina Ann back on the strap on her back, crossed her arms, and nodded her head in satisfaction, “The evil is defeated.” She yelled into the smoke cloud where Dante was standing, probably grumbling about his lost hat. “Let that be a lesson to you! You should always know when to let a joke die.”

She turned away to get to the nearest bar in order to drink the memory of this nonsense out of her head as soon as possible…when she heard a few surprised peals of laughter.

“Well, waddya know!” Dante stepped out of the smoke cloud, outfit scorched and ruined, with more than a few wounds rapidly healing on his skin…

 And the hat in his hand, utterly unscathed.

 “She really did make it Lady-proof!" 

Lady’s eye twitched again as she gaped at the utter ridiculousness of what she was looking at, before she growled and walked away with an angry stomp.

“Aww, what’s the matter? Giving up?”

“I’m getting Trish!”

“Woah nelly….”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ D ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“… so I might have pissed her off a little bit with that and what do you reckon are the chances that she’s going to shoot me if the hat doesn’t get destroyed in that one?”

“Girl,” Trish offered, raising one hand to quell the flood of words that had tumbled out of Nico’s mouth in too little time and what seemed to be a single breath. “Lady might shoot a lot of things in a day, and shoot Dante a whole lot more on top of that, but she’s not going to shoot you. No matter what she said.”

Nico lifted an eyebrow at her, looking somewhere between insecure, relieved and amused at Trish’s nonchalance. “You, ah, sure? She seemed a bit in a bad mood right there….”

“Quite,” Trish’s smile widened as she took a sip of the wine Morrison had brought with him from a quick shopping trip. Her fine senses picked up the heady flavor (bless the man for knowing something about drinks) and the nearing sound of footsteps and arguing all in one second. “Now you might want to step back and enjoy the show.”

Nico’s eyes widened, a grin twitched around her lips, and she dived behind Trish and the desk just as the door to the shop basically flew open.

“TRISH!”

“Trish don’t let her destroy it again!”

In a flurry of motions and colors, Lady, fuming and flushed, burst into the room, Dante hot on her heels – the latter’s clothes smoking and torn, together with the last hints of paling scars telling stories about the explosion he had taken point-blank.

And there, on top of his head, Trish spotted the offending hat that had apparently started a little war between friends.

Not what she would have gone for when it came to fashion, she noted, but looking far too innocently for it to be the source of all this.

Then again, she knew her friends well enough that that was an actual possibility.

With a blink, she observed with some amusement that the two fractions hadn’t even waited until they had her attention until they started squabbling.

“… and no offence, if this hat doesn’t go immediately, I swear I will find the nearest Hellgate and throw this idiot in there myself…”

“Now you’re really hurting my feelings here, Lady!”

“Your feelings? You’re hurting my everything with this, from my sensibilities to my ears up to my brain cells, every time you open your mouth ever since you put that thing on!”

“It’s hilarious, you just don’t understand good humor.”

“You wouldn’t even know good humor if it bit you in the…”

“Children,” Trish drawled, interrupting them even though this was getting really fun right there. She could hear Nico’s choked off laughter behind her, but didn’t turn to look at it. “What did we say about dragging me into your arguments?”

There was a beat of silence, before Lady pointed at the cowboy hat. “Destroy it please.”

“Hey!” Dante protested, putting one hand protectively over the beloved accessory.

“Destroy it now. Banish the evil.”

“You destroying my dreams is evil!”

“Which dreams, being an annoying ass?!”

“Being a cowboy- every man’s dream!”

“Ha fucking ha, don’t make me laugh-“

There was affection bubbling up in Trish, alongside the amusement. If the two of them hadn’t been so wrapped up in their argument – Lady had taken to poking Dante’s chest with every word while Dante downright pouted down at her, no matter how he would protest the mere idea – they would have caught her smiling at them with the softest smile she was capable off, utterly open and true.

Sibling squabbles, someone had told her once, while observing a scene very much like this. She couldn’t remember who had told her that piece of wisdom, but she couldn’t help but agree with it –

She had never had any home or family to begin with, had been created instead of born, used instead of raised, but she couldn’t help but associate moments like this with right, warm, home.

Family.

 (How utterly, terribly, wonderfully ironic, she thought, a sadistic part of her wishing that whatever left of Mundus would turn over in his non-existent grave at the notion of it, how wonderful and miraculous that she would come to love a group of demonhunters, enemies, so fiercely and utterly as if they were the same flesh and blood as her, even more so.)

 She had missed this while Dante was gone, she had. But as delighting as this was… 

“Nico,” she called, her voice sadly interrupting the argument, leading to two pairs of eyes focusing on her in surprise.

“Uh, yeah?” The human girl popped up behind the desk where she had been hiding, face flushed from suppressed laughter, and waved awkwardly in Lady’s direction. Lady glowered at her, but did not draw any guns, so Nico seemed to loosen up a bit.

“You said you improved the hat. Did you also make it withstand higher level of voltage?”

Lady’s mouth dropped open, and a cheeky, absolutely silly grin spread on Dante’s face.

Nico hesitated, her eyes going wide. “Actually, I did! Thought the baby could use some protection against those electric demons, the, uh, Blitz? So, yeah, I… oh.”

“Ha,” Dante said, slowly, standing a little straighter.

Lady’s glower got even more murderous. “Don’t tell me…”

“I did say I would make it demon proof!” Obviously deciding that it wasn’t save out there any longer and more explosions were a real possibility, Nico dived behind the desk again.

“Ha!” Dante said, again, louder and happier than before. Lady’s sour expression could have curdled milk, at this point.

“There you have it,” Trish spread her hands as if in surrender, wine glass dancing daintily on her fingertips. “It’s basically me-proof.”

“Do not,” Lady spoke slowly, darkly, rounding on her now instead of the young engineer, “dare to tell me to my face that you are not much, much stronger than a simple Blitz demon. Heck, you probably wouldn’t even need electricity to get rid of it!”

“But that certain spark is what I’m known for,” Trish reminded with only slight amusement in her voice, winking at the other woman. “Where would we be if I distanced myself from that?”

“Howdy, mah dear, she so one upped you on this one,” Dante’s voice held no little respect, and he was cheeky enough to tip his (awful, terrible, war-inducing) hat at the blonde to show it.

The motion drew Lady’s gaze to the offending thing, and after glowering at it for a heartbeat (her look promising a painful death like no hat had ever seen before) she snatched it off Dante’s silvery hair and turned on her heels, storming to the door again.

“Lady - wait where are you going?”

“To destroy the evil in this world! NERO! KID GET YOUR ASS HERE AND MAKE YOURSELF USEFUL!”

“You’re pulling the kid into this?! Now you’re just going too far…!”

 And gone they were, much like they had appeared, a storm passing through too fast to comprehend it.

 “Well,” Nico said after a moment, glancing over the top of the desk carefully. “That was… something.”

“It’s not over yet, if you want to watch the rest,” taking a sip of her wine, Trish counted in her head how long it would take for Lady to find Nero hidden behind something to engineer and improve again, plus the time they needed to explain the situation to him, plus the time to get him to even listen to their “bullshit” – well, in any case, enough time to finish her drink and wait for Morrison to fill him in. “If you hurry, you might catch the boy rolling his eyes at them and wishing he never met them.”

Nico laughed, not even questioning if that was true – they both knew – and scrambled to get out of her hiding spot. “I need to see that. You coming?”

“Right behind you, in a second.” 

Nico grinned, saluted, and bounced after the (still clearly audible) bickering duo.

Upbeat, lively, and knowing when to be crazy, Trish noted with some pride, a good, good addition to what she considered “her group”, that girl – just like the young demon and his woman had been. 

The backdoor clicked quietly, too quietly for a human to catch it, but Trish smiled over her shoulder at Morrison. “You almost missed the best part of today.”

Morrison sighed fondly, clapping off his clothes even though he know he wouldn’t get out the offending bite of cigar smoke from his quick smoking break, not with her inhuman senses, at least. “Now, what did the kid do this time?”

“Thinks he makes a good cowboy, annoying Lady… you know, almost the usual.”

“A cowboy?” Morrison’s grey eyebrow rose up high. “Of all the things that he ever came up with… you know what, that might come close to being the craziest thing of all.”

Trish’s laughter run out, startlingly loud now that their crazy friends had left them in silence. “Oh, you know, he got the looks down and everything. Despite being blown up already.”

“I shouldn’t even be surprised.”

“No, you shouldn’t. Join me for the next part?” She shot him a smile that would have made men and women alike swoon, but with Morrison, it only got an amused huff out of him as he offered her his arm like the gentleman he was. She took it while raising gracefully, interlinking their arms with an ease that spoke of practice.

“I’m going to regret this, and somebody is going to get hurt for real over nothing,” he prophesized, aiming for gloom but unable to hold back his smile.

“Now,” Trish patted his arm with no little amusement as she led him after their very own circus. “It actually might go well.”

“When does it ever with them?”

“Hmhm, good point.”

“At least we might get a laugh out of it.”

“That’s the spirit.”

 (Oh, how utterly, terribly, wonderfully crazy her family was)

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ D ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  Nero had long since come to the perfectly reasonable conclusion that the crew of Devil May Cry were completely out of their minds.

From Dante’s constant disregard of his safety, Lady’s overly sensitive trigger finger (which was especially dangerous when she brought out the damn canon strapped to her back), and Trish…well, being Trish, there was no shortage of reasons to think the gang were long overdue for a few appointments with a shrink.

This…was something else though. He stared down at the hat in his hands. A hat that was given-alright less given and more slammed into his hand with little warning  while he was working, by an especially angry looking Lady.

It seemed…well, it was a cowboy hat, with a long brim that curved upwards near the end, a leather band surrounding the center along with a few red gemstones that glowed with demonic power.

So, not the strangest thing Nero had ever held in his hand, but the way Lady was glaring down at it you’d think it was the spawn of the deepest pit of hell.

“…hello-?”

“Destroy it.”

“Huh?”

Just then Dante burst into the workshop (scattering the tools Nero had spent an entire hour cleaning up goddamnit old man!) with a look of unrestrained panic, “Kid! Don’t let her lies drag you to cruelty!”

“…what.”

“Quiet Dante!” Lady whirled on the older half demon, jabbing a finger in his chest, “This has gone on long enough!” She pointed at the hat still sitting serenely in Nero’s metal hand, “This thing has got to go!”

….were they seriously having an argument over a damn hat.

“Just because you can’t appreciate the style-”

“I saw cockroaches with more style than that tourist trap reject!”

This is why his work was interrupted so rudely? He was being subjected to all this drama because of a damn hat?

“You kidding!? That’s rich coming from a chick who rode a motorcycle in a tartan skirt and thigh high boots!”

“That thing is bad enough sitting on a coat hanger! But you put it on and, impossible as it may sound, you turn into an even bigger pain in the ass!”

“GUYS!” Nero yelled out, rubbing his temple with his free hand to try and stop the headache that rose into his head, “Are you serious?” He waved the hat around in exasperation, “What’s all this for?”

The two looked at each other for a moment, Lady with an impatient scowl and Dante with a challenging raise of an eyebrow, before turning to the younger man and absolutely unloading on him with silly complaint after ridiculous justification.

By the time they were done Nero was ready to grab the heavy piece of weaponry he was working on and using it to get them to calm the hell down but tried to control himself.

“Okay…” He said, through his teeth, hand still rubbing his forehead, “So, let me get this straight, Dante got a cowboy hat and got it into his head he has to use a really lame accent with it-”

“I think you mean authentic accent-”

“-Lady shot it to hell so Dante somehow convinced Nico to patch it up and make it stronger-”

“-a traitor, a traitor and a fool-”

“-making it strong enough to withstand bullets and a blast from a freaking rocket launcher-”

“-that there spooked me right good it did let me tell ya-”

“You’re not even wearing the damn thing what is wrong with you-!?”

“And Trish, for some reason, doesn’t think she can destroy it either.” Nero finished, his eye twitching with ever interruption from the other two, looking at the hat that started all this with disdain and general annoyance, “And now you want me to destroy this ugly thing, right?”

“It ain’t ugly-”

“Yes it is! C’mon Nero you gotta be on my side on this one!” She pointed at Dante, “Doesn’t this guy annoy us enough without this extra ammo!?”

 “Don’t appeal to his emotions!” Dante made a motion towards Nero with a hand, “The kid’s smart, I’m sure he can see proper solution to all this,” He sent a charming smile to Nero, complete with gleaming teeth (all it accomplished was make Nero’s headache worse), “Right kid? What do you think about all this?”

Nero looked at Dante, gleaming smile still stretching his face, and then at Lady, her face sending off an endless amount of threats of horrible and slow death (both towards the demon hunter and his hat), and sighed.

 “I think that the both of you are crazy and that this is, bar none, the most idiotic situation I have ever found myself in.”

 Behind the door, Morrison, Trish and Nico had to try their hardest not to burst out laughing.

“…is everything okay in there?” 

The trio near the door looked behind them to see Kyrie, dressed comfortably and carrying a few bags of groceries in her hands, and a rather worried expression on her face.

“Let me get those for you.” Morrison offered quickly, stepping up to her to take the heavy overfilled bags out of her hands and onto a nearby table, when he turned back and saw her still a bit anxious and looking at the workshop door. “Oh that? Don’t worry little lady, just another silly little argument between Dante and our resident Gunslinger.”

Kyrie sighed and put a hand to her cheek, “Oh, what did he do this time?”

Morrison tried not to grin at the sound of exasperated affection in her voice, it still surprised him how such a seemingly delicate looking girl got so used to the madness of the half devil so easily

(Though he supposed she had practice with that boyfriend of hers.)

“Nothing too drastic, Dante just got a new hat.” 

The sound of crashing metal and gunfire, followed by loud yelling and cursing, erupted from behind the doors, Nico flinching back a couple steps away while Trish just shook her head with a chuckle.  

Kyrie blinked twice at the door, then looked back at Morrison. “A hat is causing that?”

The old man laughed. “Well, the hat and Dante having a little too much fun with it, Lady in particular seems to disapprove.”

“I WILL DESTROY THAT LOATHSOME PIECE OF LEATHER IF IT’S THE LAST THING I DO!”

“OVER MY DEAD BODY!”

“THAT CAN BE ARRANGED!”

A few explosions rocked the building, followed by the unmistakable sounds of Dante whooping and hollering as he dodged gunfire from an increasingly angry Lady.

“…I’ve guessed…” She looked over at Trish, who was still sitting near the door with a sly grin and enjoying the fireworks. “You’re not going to stop them?”

“Better to let them get it out of their system.” Trish waved off her concern easily. “As soon as Dante gets bored of this joke he’ll drop the damn hat and we can all move on.”

Nico side-eyed the door as more noise filtered through the wood. “Assuming there’s anything left by the time they’re done.”

Kyrie narrowed her eyes at the door…before she recognized it as the door to Nero’s workshop.

 “Guys come on I just finished cleaning up! Would you two relax!?”

 Kyrie’s heels made a very distinct sound on the wooden floor as she stepped her way to the door and grabbed the handle to open it.

Trish grabbed her wrist gently to stop her. “Hold on now,” She said calmly, “no need for you to get in the middle of this, they’ll burn themselves out soon enou-”

Kyrie looked Trish dead in the eye, raised a single eyebrow, and waited.

Trish blinked in surprise before letting go of Kyrie and putting her hands up in mock surrender. “Alright then, go save your boyfriend.”

Kyrie nodded and opened the door, stepping briskly passed the threshold.

 (She didn’t catch Nico whispering, “I keep forgetting how scary she can be.” as she walked away. She didn’t catch Morrison chuckling or Trish shrugging either.)

 The first thing she saw as she walked in was the burning wreckage of the motorcycle Nero had been tinkering with for the past six weeks embedded in a nearby wall. The second thing she saw was her boyfriend grabbing Lady from behind to hold her back from trying to wring Dante’s neck, who was standing a few feet away and sticking his tongue out at the raging hunter.

“White haired pain in the neck!”

“Why don’t you admit you’re just jealous of my fashion sense?”

“Why don’t you shut it before she shoots you with the rocket launcher again!?"

She cupped her hands over her mouth and took a deep breath. “HEY!”

The trio froze in place and whipped their heads to look at her, expressions suddenly sheepish.

“I heard there was an argument about a hat?”

Dante blinked, before a mad grin bloomed on his features, “Indeed there is.”

Nero’s eyes bugged out and he glared at Dante, still holding Lady back. “Oh no don’t you drag here into this nonsense!”

“She is the perfect person to settle this once and for all!” Dante shot back, walking calmly towards Kyrie, who was crossing her arms and looking a little tired already. “She’s a neutral party, plus the only person here with a sense of style.”

Kyrie shook her head, though a little smile was pulling at the sides of her mouth, since the whole incident at Fortuna, the veteran devil hunter had never ceased to surprise her with his antics, but this was on another level all together.

“Well howdy there little lady.”

A groan of supreme displeasure rose from Lady, “oh God it just keeps getting worse.”

“Me and my companion over yonder are havin’ a dispute over fashion and style.” He continued, his drawl ever present and even posing like a cowboy, one hand on the brim of his hat and the other on his hip. “I think this here hat makes me look mighty stylin’, while Lady over there-”

“Thinks that hat and the accent you put on with it is a raging garbage fire.”

“-Well yeah, and we’ve been tryin’ to settle this for a while now, and all our other friends are refusing to comment.”

“They like watching us squabble you mean.”

“Well yeah obviously.” Dante said easily, losing the accent for a moment, “I know that, why do think they’ve been outside that door listening in on us this whole time?”

The sounds of people scrambling came from behind said door, along with a muffled curse.

 “Assholes!”

“Like you wouldn’t do the same.” Dante laughed, before turning back to Kyrie, who has been holding back her own laughter, and turning the drawl back on, “So, I reckon that you, being the most honest and straightforward of our bunch, you’d be able to settle this once and for all.”

“Dante…” Lady started again, this time sounding more than a little tired, “please don’t drag her into this, this is just a stupid joke-”

“Look,” Dante intoned diplomatically, “if Kyrie says something she means it. If she says the hat doesn’t suit me, I drop it and the accent, fair?”

Lady grumbled for a moment before throwing her hands up in surrender, “Fine, so long as this idiocy stops already.” She then looked down at Nero, who was still holding her back by the waist, “…and kid?”

“Yeah?”

“If you don’t want to see how bulletproof you are compared to Dante, you will put me down.”

He quickly put her on her feet and took a good 5 five steps back with his hands up.

“So, in your honest opinion Kyrie, how do I look?”

Kyrie looked at Dante, very closely, taking in his smug grin, confident posture, and the laughter in his eyes as he tried to hold back from showing how much he was enjoying himself in this farce.

She peered behind him to look at Nero a bit helplessly, and he could only offer a shrug in reply as he mouthed a ‘sorry’. She looked back at Dante with a curious expression, at a loss.

Suddenly his expression softened, “you don’t have to get involved if you don’t want to.” He grinned easily and took a step back, “no pressure, it’s just a little joke.”

Kyrie caught something as he stepped back, a look in his eye that she recognized.

“Dante…why do you want to be a cowboy anyway?”

Dante looked incredulous for a moment, before scoffing. “Oh come on, I can’t be the only one who wanted to be a cowboy when they were a kid.”

Lady raised an eyebrow at him, “Seriously Dante?”

 “Yeah seriously,” Dante said with a laugh tinged with nostalgia, “when I was a kid I used to watch all these movies about desperadoes riding into the sunset, firing six shooters, and leaning on bar stools, looking cool without even trying.” He laughed again, “hell, especially Clint Eastwood, I must have watched The Good The Bad and The Ugly like a dozen times with my-”

He stopped dead, voice catching in his throat as something dark passed in his eyes. Lady and Nero gaped at him, Lady in particular looking at a loss for words as what he didn’t say started to sink in.

Kyrie felt something clench in her chest, but said nothing, waiting for him to continue.

Instead he sighed and took the hat off with a dismissive chuckle, “nah, nevermind, like I said.” He put the hat on Kyrie’s head, “just a dumb joke that I took a bit too far.”

“Dante…”

“Could you put that in the weapon storage?” Dante called out easily as he stepped away from her, “if I need it I’ll know where to find it.” He looked at the mess he and Lady made of the workshop and sucked in a breath through his teeth, “yikes, we really did a number on this place huh?” He looked at Nero with a small grin, “sorry ‘bout that kid.”

Nero shook his head and scowled lightly, “if you’re so sorry you can help clean up.” He pointed at Lady, “and you too!”

“Gotcha.”

Kyrie felt her heart sink at the look of Dante, grinning and joking but in a subdued way, like he was hiding something. 

She knew what he was hiding of course, they all knew, but discussing such things in Devil May Cry simply Did Not Happen. If she left it be he would back to his old self in a few days and never bring it up again, never put the hat on again either, no matter how happy it made him.

She grabbed the hat off her head and started stepping towards him with purpose, tugging on his coat so he would look at her. 

Before he could even ask her what she wanted, she put the hat back on his head.

“Huh?”

“I think this makes you look very handsome, Dante.”

She smiled warmly at him as he blinked down in surprise, reaching a hand up to rub the brim of the hat, “R-really?”

She nodded easily, smile still lighting up her features.

Dante blinked a few more times before his usual grin lit up, “Well I’ll be darned-”

“Although,” Kyrie said again, grabbing the hat off his head before he could react and put it back on her head, “the accent is a bit much.”

Dante blinked again at her, before he bent over in laughter and looked at Lady, “See? At least someone has some fashion sense around here.”

Lady rolled her eyes and shook her head, “yeah, but she also has some common sense.”

Dante laughed again and shook his head, grinning at her, “Sorry about busting your chops all day, couldn’t help myself.”

Lady punched him on the shoulder, “yeah yeah, and I’m sorry for shooting you with a rocket.”

“Twice.”

“Alright twice ya big baby.”

 Nero walked over to Kyrie and hugged her while the other two bickered lightly as they cleaned up, kissing her softly, “You are a blessing, you know that right?”

Kyrie laughed as she blushed from her boyfriend’s attention, “Just keeping the peace.”

—-

Kyrie walked into the weapon storage with the hat in hand (she was still having trouble wrapping her head around the idea that a hat could be a weapon), and closed the door behind her, looking for a place to put it where it wouldn’t be too out of the way to be hidden.

 She walked a few steps in, admiring a few of the pieces already on shelves and hanging off hooks on the walls, eventually finding a free space on a shelf where she could put the hat.

Along with a mirror. 

 Kyrie looked at it for a moment, seeing it was just an ordinary mirror (Dante probably kept it in there to check out his looks), and looked at the hat in her hands.

She looked left.

Right.

Back at the hat.

Slowly, she faced the mirror, and put the hat on, admiring the visage in her reflection.

 Making a finger gun gesture, she pointed at the glass with a self indulgent grin. “Bang.” After a moment, she used both hands and affected a slight southern drawl, “Reach for the sky.”

With a giggle she took the hat off and put it on the shelf and made for the exit with a happy spring in her step. 

As soon as she closed the door behind her, she noticed the whole of Devil May Cry looking at her with very amused smiles.

Kyrie blushed and chuckled nervously.

“Oh sure,” Dante grumbled from somewhere in the back, “it’s cute when she does it.”

“Of course it’s cute when she does it,” Lady shot back, rolling her eyes to the heavens. “She’s not doing it purposely to annoy people, if you catch my drift.”

Dante tipped his head at her, smirk curling his lips. “Already apologized, your honor.”

An amused snort followed. “Doesn’t mean I can’t needle you about it.”

Pocketing her phone – making sure she had the video of Kyrie with the hat saved – Nico chanced a glance in Lady’s direction. “Sooo, that mean you’re not going to blow up, say, an engineer who helped him being annoying?”

Lady shot her an incredulous look before laughing, “Alright, to make this clear: I’m not blowing up innocent people who can’t immediately regenerate from it. With a rocket launcher! Honestly, do you think I’m some kind of madwoman?! No, you don’t answer that,” she added to Dante, narrowing her eyes as she noticed that he had already opened his mouth to do just that.

He clamped it shut obediently, raising his hands in silent surrender while trying to look inncent and surprised. It didn’t work very well.

“See, Nico” Trish’s melodic voice dissipated the momentary tension again, “I told you she wouldn’t do it.”

“Well, I just think you can’t be too careful about that!” Nico defended herself, grinning embarrassedly.

“Nah, you’re safe,” Lady assured her, before holding up one finger. “That is…”

Nico froze in the middle of moving to take a seat, eyes wide in surprise and just the tiniest bit of worry. “Uh, yes?”

“… if you tell me how the heck you managed to make that damn hat so unbreakable.”

Kyrie had to hold back fond laughter as she watched Nico blink, gape, and then starting to beam, the engineer looking as if her birthday and a holiday had just fallen on the same day. “Really? You want to hear me talk about my work?!”

“Uh-oh,” Nero mumbled, flashing Kyrie a quick smile from across the room, only strengthening her urge to laugh. They both knew how excited Nico could get when someone showed interest in her ideas and working processes.

If Lady had any worries about what monster she had just unleashed, she didn’t show it, waving Nico closer with a chuckle. “Hear about it? I want to know all about it. If you can do that with a hat, I want to know if you can do that with some of my clothes – would be great if they were a bit more resistant and I didn’t need to buy new clothes after a single job.”

Nico’s grin widened to a worrisome degree as she dove for her notebooks and then hurried over to the older woman, plopping down next to her.

“If that’s the case,” Trish stretched on her spot on the couch before getting up in one fluid movement, “I would be quite interested in that, too.”

Morrison chuckled, shaking his head. “I’ve never seen you get a single hole in your clothes, Trish.”

She shot him a wink over her shoulder, smirking. “Perhaps you’re too gentlemanly to look too closely.”

“That must be it, sure.”

The excitement of the day – and any talk about cowboys or talking like cowboys – seemed to be forgotten for the moment as they went on with their day, a sort of peace coming over them.

And yet, as she stood and watched her friends go on about their day, when she had should have just joined them… Kyrie couldn’t shake off the thought that there was something still left unattended, unsaid.

The oh-so recent memory back from Nero’s workshop came clawing back up her chest, making it ache and burn – the way Dante’s eyes had gleamed with almost childish excitement as he told them about his love for cowboys, before the shadows had snuffed out that light.

It wasn’t the first time she had witnessed it, and she had been part of this group for much less time than some of the others. But it was there, if you knew where to look for, if you listened close enough: Those moments when Dante’s whole persona just seemed to crack, seams loosening and falling apart, and laughter and booming voice made way for silence and something glaringly deep and dark, swallowing him up whole.

It made Kyrie want to cry for him, for what had been lost. Manchild, they might call Dante sometimes, in annoyance, in tease, in warm laughter – but sometimes, perhaps, all of them, even herself, forgot that said child had been forced to grow into a man much too quickly, and in horror whose lasting damage they could only fathom.

The thought alone made her feel sick. She wanted to hug him, to tell him it was all going to be okay. But again… in Devil May Cry, things weren’t discussed. They were ignored, swept under the carpet, downplayed with noise and jokes and explosions until they could no longer be heard. It was Rule Number One. Everybody knew it. Etched into stone it had been, even long before she had come along.

By now, Kyrie was gnawing at her bottom lip in thought, wringing her hands. An idea was starting to form, and perhaps it might even be a good idea, but she wasn’t sure if it was her place to orchestrate something like this. Too personal. She was still mostly a stranger. Her idea could be appreciated, yes, but it could also very much backfire and do more bad than good…

“Hey,”

Warm hands reached for her, the metal one wrapping gently around her fingers to stop the fiddling, the human one carefully stroking its thump over her bottom lip so she had to stop biting it.

As Kyrie looked up, Nero smiled down at her, eyes soft even though there was gentle tease in his smirk. “You’re going to hurt yourself if you keep doing that.”

That got a laugh out of her. His smirk widened into a smile, as if the sound had just brightened his entire day. “My hero, saving me again.”

“Always. But seriously,” a quick peck was pressed to the tip of her nose, making her giggle again because it tickled, before he became more serious. Hand coming to cup her cheek, he directed her to look at him. “What got you all frowning?”

Kyrie hummed, lost in thought while she straightened his collar and smoothed non-existent wrinkles out, all the while wondering how she should start this, if she should ask for help or not. Nero’s fingers moved, playing with her hair like he so often did, the touch familiar and grounding and calming all in once.

You’re not alone. I’m right here.

It was this silent reassurance that made her wish she could give others – could give Dante the same, even if it was just a tiny bit.

“Did you ever see something,” she began, looking up to meet Nero’s soft, inquiring gaze, “something that just didn’t seem right, and you felt like you wanted to…help fix it? Even if it’s perhaps none of your business?”

He raised one eyebrow at her, lips quirking up. “You do realize who you’re talking to, right?”

“Quite,” she assured, answering laughter rising in her. “But I mean…even if you would kind of break an unspoken rule with it?”

The second eyebrow joined the first, mirth gleaming in his eyes. “Again, you do realize who you’re….?”

“Oh, okay, okay, shush,” she had to laugh, honest and loud, but she still managed to aim a playful smack at his shoulder throughout it, just for railing her up. It was not like he would even feel it.

Nero’s glee only seemed to increase, as if she had done something particularly endearing. Still, he caught her raised hand in his, pressing a quick kiss to the palm to sooth whatever sting there was, before drawing her back into an embrace. “Alright, but seriously, if I were in your stead, I would probably just go through with it, whatever it is.”

“Don’t I know it, you would jump right in,” Kyrie mumbled into his chest, smiling when he chuckled without an ounce of shame. “I might have to take a page from your book then, this time.”

“What an honor,” she could hear the tease in his voice, but the kiss he dropped to the top of her head was full of honest reassurance. “You’re gonna do great.”

“You don’t even know what I‘m going to do.”

“No clue. But I just saw you manage both Dante and Lady at the same time. I doubt there’s anything that can stop you after that.”

Again, laughter burst out of her, and she stood to her tiptoes as he released her and stepped back, rocking forward to press a kiss to his cheek. “Thank you.”

“Anytime,” his grin was wide and boyish, so different from his usual smirk and just for her, it made another surge of affection go through her.

Kyrie was just about to add another kiss to the first, when they got joined by a third party.

“I really hate to interrupt you two lovebirds,” Nico peeked over Nero’s shoulder, flush high in her cheeks from excitement. “But Kyrie, can I kidnap your boyfriend for a sec? I want to show off the Devil Breaker to the interested ladies over there.”

“Go ahead,” Kyrie agreed, waving them off.

Nero’s eyebrows rose yet again. “I don’t even get asked?”

“You don’t get asked,” Nico confirmed, already attempting to drag him off. “Move it, lover boy.”

Nero rolled his eyes at the attempt, not even giving an inch, before he bent down and pressed one last parting kiss to Kyrie’s forehead. “You go rock whatever it is.”

“Will do.”

“What, what is she gonna do?”

“None of your business, Nico.”

“Aww, you guys never let me join the fun.”

“Really? You complain while dragging me around like a puppet?”

“Excuse me, at least twenty percent of you is made by me, I can drag all I want, honey.”

Kyrie smiled after the two of them as they went, bickering all the way. Really now…

Taking one deep breath, stealing herself for whatever outcome this was going to achieve, she turned, located whom she needed, and purposefully strode over.

Morrison seemed surprised when he looked up and saw her standing next to him, but it quickly made way for a welcoming smile as he made a gesture towards the empty space on the couch next to him. “Yes, Kyrie? What is it?”

She huffed out a chuckle at that, gratefully taking a seat. “I didn’t say anything and you already know I need something?”

“Easy to see, with that determined gleam in your eyes,” he observed, reaching for his jacket before stopping, shaking his head at his own habit before looking up again. “So, how may I help?”

His smile was friendly still, and no accusations in his words, so Kyrie relaxed instantly. Clearly, her feeling that he would be the right person to ask had been right. “You see, I wondered if there’s a place where I could buy old movies. As in, old western movies?”

Morrison’s expression faltered for half a second, eyebrows shooting up, and he only just so seemed to stop himself from gaping at her. “You…”

His reaction had been much stronger than Kyrie had anticipated, and once again she wondered – worried – if she was overstepping her boundaries here. In an attempt to explain, she added, “It’s just that we don’t have any shops in Fortuna that sell older things like that, or movies in general, and I don’t know a lot of places here in…”

“They wouldn’t be for you, I take it?”

She interrupted herself, blushing ever so slightly. Was she so easy to read?

Then she remembered how Morrison had put emphasis on just how long he had known Dante, and she thought that, perhaps, if anyone knew best what went on in the demon hunter’s head…if anyone understood, it would probably be…

Morrison hadn’t reacted badly to it, not really. Simply surprised.

Kyrie raised her chin, mind made up. She was sure this was the right thing to do, now. “No, they would be a present.”

That seemed to be the right thing to say. The inquiring look melted from Morrison’s face, replaced by the most brilliant smile she had ever seen from him. “I actually might know where to get you that present.”

It took her a second, but then Kyrie understood, and she beamed. “Really? Where?”

She had half a mind to go there immediately, on the height of her enthusiasm, and gather up every last Wild Western movie she could get a hand on.

It must have shown, because the man chuckled, resting a hand on her wrist to get her to stay seated. “Slow down, now. I’m going to head over there, see what I can scrounge up for you.”

“Oh, but you don’t have to-…“

“Kyrie,” his voice was kind, but firm. “It’s a great idea you had there, and I would be happy to offer some help.”

She relaxed, releasing a relieved breath. “You think it will be…well received, then.”

“More than you probably can imagine right now. But you might find out for yourself.”

Before she could wonder what that meant, much less ask, a hand landed on her shoulder, warm and gentle.

“As if someone doesn’t like presents,” Dante rumbled, arm coming to rest around Kyrie’s shoulder as he leaned over the back of the couch to steal Morrison’s beer bottle from next to him. The older man let him, smile curling around his lips even as he muttered a half-hearted protest over it.

Kyrie had jumped at the first touch, sudden as it was, but relaxed now. She had become quite used to the ease with which Dante approached her, even when she had been perplexed by it at first. She peered up at the older half-demon, catching his gaze which was… far too amused, for the situation, she noted. Far too fond and directed at her and…

Oh.

Oh right, she thought with a rush of embarrassment and amusement at the same time, heightened senses, and better hearing.

Sometimes she forgot just who she was dealing with.

Huffing, hoping that she didn’t blush too badly at her own oversight and being caught, Kyrie smiled up at Dante, pointing an accusing finger at him. “Is it still a present if you’re not even going to be surprised by it?”

The smirk on Dante’s face widened into a grin and he shrugged one shoulder. “I like presents. Never said a thing about surprises.”

The hand still wrapped around her shoulder squeezed, gently, taking the blow out of his teasing, and she smiled widely at it.

“I can pretend to be surprised by it, if you like,” he offered still, raising an inquiring eyebrow at her.

She sighed fondly, shaking her head. “Please, no. After that cowboy show all day? I don’t want to think how far you would go to pretend to be surprised.”

“Well said,” Morrison laughed out loud at that, throwing his head back, and the grin on Dante’s face couldn’t be any bigger.

“What are you guys getting up to over here?” Nero sidled over to them, obviously having been released from his duty to show off. He pushed, none too roughly, past Dante, who easily gave up his spot at Kyrie’s side to let Nero take over.

“Failing to surprise Dante,” Kyrie explained, chuckling as she saw confusion flash over her boyfriend’s face at that before it settled again.

“Still ready to pretend,” Dante disagreed, waggling his eyebrows at her before he took a swig of his drink. “But, to answer your question kid – Kyrie here did surprise us all with planning a movie night.”

“I-.. what?”

That, she hadn’t anticipated. Hadn’t even thought of.

But clearly, Dante had. He twirled the bottle in his fingers, humming, not really meeting their perplexed gazes. “Sure. Movies are there to be watched, aren’t they? And I was thinking pizza. Movies with pizza, and you guys can stay if you like, since it was your idea in the first place.”

It sounded casual enough, the way he said it. It didn’t seem casual at all, the way melancholy was etched into his lopsided smile, and he was still not looking over to gauge their reactions.

Kyrie’s mind was made up immediately, and she reached for Nero’s hand on her shoulder even as she searched for his gaze.

He was already looking back, tipping his head at her in a short, almost invisible nod that made her heart swell with love once again.

(He could pretend not to care all he wanted, she knew better. They knew better.)

“If you talk with that shitty accent throughout the whole movie,” Nero warned, no real threat in his voice. “I will join Lady in shooting you.”

Dante’s smile sharpened into a smirk and he rolled his eyes. “Kid, that threat stopped working after you greeted me with bullets the first time around.”

“That just means he saw right through you,” Lady called from the other side of the room. Kyrie looked over just in time to see Trish hide a smile behind her hand and Nico snort, Lady lounging in her chair with mirth in her eyes that belied her harsh words. “Noticed right away that it’s the best way to go when it comes to you.”

“Cheers, I'll drink to that!” Dante threw back, raising his empty bottle at her even as she made a crude gesture in his direction.

“Prick.”

“Mh-hm,” the half-demon seemed more amused than faced by it. “Will the ladies be joining movie night?”

“Sure, why not,” Trish answered easily. “Could be fun.”

“Movies and pizza?” Nico brightened up, grinning. “Count me in.”

“Wait, wait,” Lady straightened up again, throwing her hands up in a Stop gesture. “Wild Western movies with Dante? After this day? You’re just going to use that to torment us with that terrifying, horrible accent again.”

“I already apologized…”

“Aha, I don’t hear you saying No to that statement.”

There was a beat of apprehensive silence as the duo looked at each other, everyone else in the room shifting more or less uneasily at the sudden tension.

Then, Dante smiled, slowly and bright, and Lady let out the deepest sigh in the history of humanity.

“Once,” she said in the tone of someone who just had to make a great sacrifice. “You can use it once.”

“I can live with that.”

“I’m going to regret this,” Lady mumbled, scrunching her nose while Trish next to her chuckled. “I see it coming already.”

“Well,” Morrison declared, pushing himself to his feet. “Sounds like my cue to go get those movies.”

“Get the good ones.” Dante called advice after him. “The real good ones.”

“Dante, I have no idea what you consider good ones, you get your ass in the car and accompany me if you want to have a say in this.”

“Sheesh, you all have no idea about good movies…”

“Well,” Nero mumbled into Kyrie’s ear, aiming to be heard as everyone around them started talking at the same time, arguing over movies to watch and what pizza to order. “Whatever you did, it worked pretty well it seems.”

“Don’t you say I told you so, now,” Kyrie warned, laughing even as she felt him grin against her temple.

“Don’t even have to,” he basically sing-songed. Then pressed a quick kiss to her temple, humming. “You are a blessing, Kyrie. Really.”

Behind them, Dante and Morrison laughed over something as the older man chucked a coat at the half-demon, making him splutter. Lady tried to pout around her smile and failed miserably, grin taking over her features as she rolled her eyes. Nico pulled out the well-used flyer from the nearest pizza parlor from a drawer. Trish threw her head back in laughter, baring the length of her throat, as she watched the engineer notice that the only phone in the shop had been unplugged once again.

It was messy, and loud, and far from perfect.

It was their perfect, Kyrie thought, affection rose in her throat, slow and bright and warm. And if she could do anything, something, however little, to preserve it, she would do it.

“This,” she said, clearing her throat against the sudden feelings, trying again. “This is a blessing.”

 And if the way Nero smiled at her then was any indication, she thought, he just might think so, too.

[koderenn]

Summary: A severed Force bond cuts deep into their healing past, as Ren and Rey struggle to redefine themselves and what they mean to each other. But with a schism running down the New Republic and the remnants of the First order in hiding, time is of the essence and broken hearts only get in the way.

Click here for Chapter 1

Poe dragged a chair next to the narrow bed, its metal legs screeching against the durasteel floor of the medical bay. He flipped it and straddled it, setting his forearms on its back and looking at the young woman in front of him with worry. Rey was still asleep, but according to the medical staff should be waking up any minute now. A monitor at the side of the bed beeped in rhythm to her heart rate and its screen blinked her vital signs. A soft yellow light overhead warmed the simple white and blue colors of the room. The clean soft curves and glass surfaces of the ship’s architecture reminding him of its manufacturer’s aquatic origin. The Mon Calamari species.

Poe rested his chin on the back of his hands, studying the crease between Rey’s brows and the light downturn of her lips, evidence of her discomfort even in her drug-induced sleep.

He rubbed his red eyes and unshaven face. The image of Rey hunched over, in pain, with tears streaking down her cheeks, was burnt and seared irrevocably in his memory. And the helplessness he had felt when he and Leia came across her, bloody and writhing outside the heavy metal doors of the medical bay with nothing but that man’s name on her lips, was a feeling he had never experienced before.

All her pain was because of him; currently sedated and recovering two doors down the bay. Anger boiled in his chest blistering and scalding at the thought of Kylo Ren and the atrocities he had committed. The leniency and forgiveness that Leia was showing was understandable. She was after all his mother.

But Rey…

Rey’s attachment to that man ran deeper than he could have ever expected. It was obvious that she genuinely cared for him. A lot more than he was comfortable or willing to accept.

Poe ran his fingers through his unkempt curls, dejectedly.

I doubt Rey ever felt like that for me.

He shifted in his seat pinching his eyes with his thumbs and willing the image of them together out of his mind. The acrid truth of their relationship stung too much. Instead he tried to focus on the last few days and the events that had transpired since then. They were equally as mind-blowing but at least he had found himself able to cope with them.

Barely.

The world was turning upside down and he didn’t know which end was what. There were Stormtroopers aboard the ship, wishing to defect. Coruscant was in rubbles and its fugitives were boarding Republic ships with any means possible. More than half of the First Order fleet was either surrendering or blowing themselves up. General Hugs with a handful of Star Destroyers had disappeared to Force knows where. And Leia…

Stars, Leia…

Leia was falling apart.

A sigh and slight movement of Rey’s head tore him out of his thoughts and he reached for her motionless hand squeezing it lightly. She mumbled something indiscernible, but quickly went back to her fretful sleep.

He couldn’t stay long. His presence was needed back at the bridge. And he had to figure out what he would do with all these people aboard the Resistance ships. The ships’ supplies weren’t enough to sustain everyone for more than a week or so. Normally Leia would have already been snapping orders around. But not this time.

“How’s Rey?”

Poe looked up startled to see a concerned Finn sticking his head through the open doors.

“She’s, uh…” He sighed. “Asleep. She’s still asleep.”

“Can I come in?”

“Yeah, sure.”

Finn stepped in as silently as he could. With all the commotion going on outside, Poe highly doubted Finn’s boots would be the ones to wake her up.

“I’ll stay with her, till you’re back,” Finn said. “There are messages coming in from the Republic fleet and Admiral D’Acy has just left to take over the helm on the Titan. You really need to get to the bridge.”

I know.

Poe rubbed at his face once more, before steeling himself and getting off the chair. He leaned in and set a kiss on Rey’s creased forehead.

“I’ll be back as soon as I can,” he whispered back.

Poe patted Finn’s shoulder and turned to head out, when he caught hazel eyes trained on Finn, blood shot and racked.

“You’re up!” Finn exclaimed.  A flutter of relief and joy went through Poe.

But Rey just sighed and a sheen of tears formed in her eyes. And the voice that left her lips was as broken as the city below.

“He’s gone, isn’t he?”

*

 It was time to register his vitals again. Louise passed outside the Jedi’s room and peeked inside to make sure she was still asleep. General Dameron was seated next to her, pensive and quiet. Louise couldn’t figure out what it is that he saw on that woman. Well, apart from those supposed powers she owned.

She shrugged and walked down the medical bay’s corridor to the room with the bacta tank. The guard stationed outside winked at her and she gave him a hint of a smile in reward before going through the hissing doors. The room was quiet, the General and the Chief of Medicine having obviously departed some time now. Things were finally quieting down as the ship entered the night cycle. There were no more trauma patients coming in as the battle of Corruscant seemed to be coming to its end, finally. These past three days had been exhausting.

She was about to log into the bay’s records, when a crack resounded in the empty chamber and she snapped her head up, the hair at the back of her neck standing on end.

What was that?

Everything was still, apart for the waves of green and grey illuminating the room, and disappearing into its shadows.

She twisted her head towards the direction of the immersed man. His palm was set on the tank’s glass and spidery cracks were covering its surface.

Her eyes widened in horror and her gaze drifted to catch his dark eyes trained at her frozen form.

He’s up. Oh, my merciful gods, he’s awake!

Louise blinked at the terrifying realization and the glass shattered.

Bacta flooded the floor. Thick and muculent. And she remained transfixed, watching the man in the shadows scramble on unsteady feet for a moment or two and impatiently pull on tubes and cords. His broad muscled body straightened slowly and he stared at her through wet strands with burning eyes.

Kylo Ren was free.

*

Ren’s head hammered with an ache that clouded any coherent thought.

The room was dark and he couldn’t make out a thing about his surroundings. He tried to get to his feet, the slippery ground giving out from under him and making it difficult to properly steady himself. His right leg throbbed and piercing pain radiated around his ribs with every inhale of breath. Cords and tubes covered his body, and familiar anger rose inside him as he tugged everything off and straightened his back.

A woman was standing across the room, gaping at him.

He looked around cautiously trying to decipher his environment through the heavy haze settled in his mind. The pale curved surfaces of the chamber had nothing in common with the harsh charcoal lines of the Star Destroyers, and the woman’s loose attire was far from the constricting First Order uniforms. Which meant…

Ren frowned.

Where am I?

It was quiet in the room. And eerily silent in his mind.  

Rey.

Worry crept in his chest, molten and corrosive.

He had to find Rey.

The woman in front of him snapped into action darting for a panel and punching a button that caused blaring alarms to go off. The ear piercing sound seared through his aching head. His palms flew to cover his ears and his shoulders hunched over like a wounded beast’s.

Ren gritted his teeth and instinctively waved his hand, tossing the woman to the wall with a loud thud. Channeling his pain, he gathered the Force and a rod detached itself from the wall flying into his hand, right as the doors opened to reveal a startled guard. A blaster was aimed at him and fired, but the bolt was suspended in midair a few inches away from his outstretched hand. Ren crossed the room in a few swift strides, brutally bringing the rod down to the man’s back.  The guard dropped unconscious at his bare feet.

He swirled the rod in his hand in one fluid motion, approaching the now unguarded door.

Something felt seriously wrong and it wasn’t the wounds he bore.  He felt empty. Alone. He groped for the thread of energy that tied him to the one person he madly wanted to see, only to realize he couldn’t find it.

Rey?

He stepped into a clean, brightly lit hall, with numerous doors running down its length. The white light stung his eyes and he brought the back of his hand up to shield them. A sterile bitter smell drifted to his nose, reminding him very much of that of a medical ward. He squinted, spotting a pair of metal doors at the end with the distinctive insignia on it. He was right.

A few members of the medical staff, he noticed, had shrunk to the walls, staring at him horrified.

Ren glanced down at his half-naked body, cursing under his breath. He needed to get a change of clothes if he were to have any hope of blending in and finding Rey, as amusing as that seemed. He gripped onto his only weapon tightly and darted for the exit, just as the doors hissed open and more men filed in. They looked scruffy and unkempt in their worn out beige and orange clothes, which resembled very much those of…

The Resistance.

Fuck!

His mind barely had time to reel over the staggering information, when weapons were leveled at him and more shots were fired. He clenched his jaw, flinging the bolts away from him in annoyance. He threw his hand out, wrenching a computer terminal from a wall and tossing its sparking bulk on the soldiers crouching at the entrance.

Ben clawed at the bond again, straining into the Force and frantically calling out Rey’s name, but the cold silence echoing back turned his insides into stone.  

Where’s Rey?

Why couldn’t he feel…

Is she…

No. There’s no way she was… He quickly stomped at the thought, desperately un-rooting it from his mind because it simply wasn’t an option. His girl was fine. He’d find her. Fate was cruel, but not that much as to rip her away and let him live instead.

But the nauseating emptiness that ached and throbbed within him cast a heavy shadow on his hopes. He couldn’t feel the bond. He couldn’t feel her…

His vision blurred unexpectedly and his throat clenched, stealing the breath from his lungs.

No.

Ren bit his lip, drawing blood and iron as he tried to contain the agony in his chest spreading like wildfire through his senses. A grunt escaped him, threatening to morph into a primal roar.  He gripped the metal rod white-knuckled, searching for a means to release the anguish and despair tearing at his insides.

Doors hissed open to his left and two men barged in the hall.

Ren immediately recognized them and crimson fury eclipsed his vision. He delved for the wide-eyed pilot first, swinging the rod in a side slash aiming for his ribs, but the man got lucky and managed to evade it in the last instant. The traitor reached for the blaster hanging on his hip, but Ren ripped it easily from his hand with the Force. He landed a hard kick on the pilot’s chest bringing him to the floor and aimed the blaster to his head, efficiently freezing all movement in the bay.

Eyes blinked at Ren in fear and awe and hate, hidden behind their blasters. His chest heaved and pain ignited his every breath, but it didn’t even compare to the gaping hole that pulsated inside him. The bond that once tethered him to Rey was no longer there. Replaced only by a raw chasm so deep and bottomless that it threatened to swallow his very sanity if he fumbled with its edges.

Rey was gone.

And nothing else mattered anymore.

“Ben?”

He swirled his head at the voice to his left. A young woman was standing at the doors. She looked frail and tired, with her slim figure clad in a plain medical robe and her long legs bare on the steel floor. Wide hazel eyes were staring back at him on a freckled face that he could map by heart. His girl made of sun and sand would be cold in such a room.

Ren swallowed. The stinging in his eyes distorting his desert girl into an illusion.

It wasn’t her.

This woman standing before him was a complete stranger.

She brought her hand to her mouth to stifle a sob and her eyes welled up with tears. She was looking at him.

It can’t be…

“Rey?” He heard himself rasp.

A blaster went off, but he was too distracted to stop it. The bolt stunned him, causing his knees to buckle and his body to sag heavily on the floor. The room spun and he fought for awareness as light steps approached him slowly, followed by a clicking sound. And then, a warm voice that colored his innocent childhood years spoke sternly, just as he slipped into unconsciousness.

“Sedate him.”

[paladin-andric]

Blackheart, Chapter 6, Part 3 of 5

Lexius sighed and wiped his forehead. The priest was panting and heaving.

“Ah...t-thank you…”

Senci smiled. “Don’t worry about it! We’ve got your back!” Leianna nodded and gave the priest a thumbs up.

Alexander turned to face Tourthun. The dragon was wiping his hand on the ground, leaving streaks of blood along the stone street. He wore a displeased grimace.

“Thank you. I wasn’t expecting that many.” Tourthun looked up at the knight and quickly cast his gaze back down.

“Ah, well, neither was I. I suppose that was my bad. I should have foreseen the market square to be an...especially populated area.” The dragon absentmindedly clawed at the ground.

“No matter. We’re all here now. What’s next?”

“Next, my friend, I shall take to the skies.” Tourthun turned to look behind him. “I flew through the city once and a demon followed me to my sanctuary. Who knows what they have planned now that I have escaped? I have to...survey. If they have some kind of trap set for me, you would surely fall to your death riding me.”

“And that is why you didn’t want to ride to the Blackheart.” Alexander said knowingly.

“Correct. At least partially so. We still do not know what we have to do to destroy that portal. I would assume it is immune to physical harm. If we went there we would be swarmed by all of Hell itself while we tried to work out what to do. We must track that sorcerer.”

“How do we know who to look for?” Senci quipped nervously.

“He’s right. What did the sorcerer look like? Any glaring traits at all?” Alexander crossed his arms, eager for some information on who they were tracking. Tourthun tapped his claws on the ground as his face scrunched up in thought.

“Hmm...well, it was definitely a sorcerer, no mistaking that. I think human. Had pale skin, no fur or scales or anything of the sort. Probably from outside the city. Purple robes with a hood.”

“You said ‘her’ before, correct?” Tourthun nodded.

“I got a brief glance at the sorcerer’s face before she teleported. It was feminine. I think. I had only a second’s glance from the skies. I apologize, but by the time I realized what was happening she was already vanishing into thin air.”

“Wow, pretty lucky you got a look at her face at all,” Leianna said, arms folded.

“Ah, well...that was because she looked at me.”

“Looked at you?” Tourthun nodded at the knight.

“Mhm, that is right. Right before she vanished she turned around and looked right at me. Her eyes, they were...well, I felt as though she was staring into my very soul.”

“Ominous,” Leianna said, frowning. The dragon merely grunted in response. He looked more than a little worried after recounting his meeting with the mysterious woman.

The dragon eventually shook his head. “Regardless, I need to check that our surroundings are safe before I can take you further into the city. I shall return in a moment.”

Alexander shrugged. “Sure, we’ll wait here. Be safe.”

“You, too.”

Tourthun launched himself into the air and took off, wings flapping. The dragon ascended higher and higher, eventually settling into place high up in the sky.

The group stared at Tourthun as he began to slowly move around, looking back and forth at the streets below. It looked like he was searching for something.

But what? Alexander asked himself. Just what is he so afraid of?

Just as the knight started thinking of the possibilities, a thunderous explosion made him reflexively cover his ears. Looking up at the sky, Alexander’s eyes widened as a massive beam of magic tore through the skies. The beam was coming from somewhere else in the city, and was a dark grey color. From his limited knowledge on magic, it looked like it was something from the School of Death.

The beam of energy shot straight through Tourthun, clearly intended for him. The dragon roared as the beam sent him flying backwards with terrible force. The group of survivors could only watch in horror as Tourthun came barrelling towards the earth, not showing any signs of life.

The dragon flew down towards the city like a rock from a trebuchet, not resisting the descent in the slightest. Alexander’s heart almost stopped as it seemed like he was going to land right on top of him, but the dragon rocketed past him, going back towards where they came from.

A loud crash shook the very earth as Tourthun crashed to the ground.

“After him!” Alexander ran towards where the dragon had crashed, gesturing for the rest of the group to follow him, who were still staring silently, mouths agape.

The knight sprinted as quickly as his gear would let him, hearing the telltale sounds of metal clanging behind him. Good, the others were coming along.

Coming into one of the side streets, Alexander stopped short as he saw Tourthun.

The dragon was halfway through a house, having completely leveled it from slamming into it. He lay on his side, eyes closed, motionless.

What really stole the knight’s attention however, was the dragon’s stomach. A gaping hole made the giant beast’s insides easily visible. Blood was steadily pouring out of the wound, but the worst part was the wound itself. The skin and scales around the hole the magic tore open was blackened. The area just surrounding the wound looked like it was dissolving, the skin simply fading away as the blackness around the wound slowly spread.

“Oh my God!” Lexius sprinted to the dragon’s side, quickly kneeling and examining the injury.

Senci screamed in terror, nearly tripping over his own feet as he rushed over. He tried to shake the dragon’s head, tears in his eyes.

“Tourthun! Come on, wake up! Tourthun! Wake up!” The kobold was sobbing now, on his knees as Alexander came over and put a hand on his shoulder.

“Please…”

Leianna moved to help Lexius with his examination, quickly crouching beside him. Alexander pulled Senci into a hug. The kobold continued crying, but didn’t resist.

“How’s it looking back there?” Alexander glanced over his shoulder.

“Bad,” Leianna stated bluntly, “This is, bar none, the worst injury I’ve ever seen.”

“And yet he lives still,” Lexius muttered, “I’m surprised honestly. I thought he was dead on impact. This is a horrific wound.”

“See, Senci?” Alexander patted the kobold on the back. “He’s okay, we just have to patch him up.”

Lenianna grimaced. “Uhh...I don’t think it’s going to be that simple.”

“Why not?” Alexander squinted at the healers.

“Negative energy,” Lexius answered, “Magic from the School of Death. This was a necrosis beam.”

“N-Necrosis?” Senci looked up questioningly, sniffling.

“Necrosis, the skin and organs being eaten away at.” Lexius said with some trepidation. “This foul magic utilizes it to quite a frightening extent. His body is being slowly consumed by the dark magic.”

“You healed Senci’s wounds. Can you save him?” Alexander looked at the two holy warriors, resolute. Leianna bit her lip.

“This is no sword cut...” Leianna said warily.

“That’s not what I asked.”

“You have to understand, healing magic isn’t just something you can use. You must offer your-”

“Can. You. Save him?” Alexander’s voice was stern and unwavering.

Lexius looked at Leianna sorrowfully, nodding in stoic acceptance.

“It is our duty, sister.” Leianna frowned at the priest, slowly lowering her head and sighing.

“We can only try,” Leianna offered. Alexander nodded.

“Do it.”

The cleric looked at Tourthun’s chest, very slowly rising and falling. The two seemed to have reservations with saving this dragon.

“Please, Tourthun, you have to pull through. Don’t let this go to waste. Do it for us, okay?”

“What is going on?” Alexander asked, frustrated. “Why are you acting like this is some big ask?”

“Because it is.”

With those words, Lexius put his hands over the gaping hole and began chanting in prayer. Leianna quickly joined in, moving her hands over the left side of the injury.

Alexander patted Senci’s back. “See, Senci? They’re gonna help him. Everything’s going to be okay.”

“R-Really…?”

Alexander smiled. “Sure. You’ll see.”

Beginning | Previous | Next

[knight-of-heart-and-art]

Rose Quartz and Citrine

  3500 words of Dirk being a dramatic idiot and Hal fixing stuff. Also of Dirk repeatedly getting distracted by the fact that Roxy's apparently better at creating humanoid robots than he is. 

 Somehow you never expected to be actively avoiding human contact when you had the opportunity and the desire to not be alone. Then again, up to a certain point in your life you never expected that you'd end up not being more or less alone on a drowning planet, but hey. Shit happens and everything's different now.  Some things are more different than others. Is that a stupid way to put it? You feel like it is. In your opinion, though, you're in a weird and stupid situation, so whatever stupid statements you make will have to be excused.  What the fuck are you doing right now, anyway?  There's a short and mostly-true answer to that question, and it is...nothing. Listening to music turned way too loud, sitting in a tipped-back desk chair with one sleeve of the sweater that it's too warm for pushed up so you can scratch absently at your arm, mesmerized and a little disgusted by the way crystalline streaks radiate out from where you touch and yield to flesh again as your fingers move on. It's a pretty quick fade—you're not the one who can make them stay. Roxy, Dave, Jake, John—the people you care about, their touch leaves your skin branded with rose quartz and citrine. It's not really like being branded, though. It doesn't hurt, and it's not just a surface thing, your skin literally changing with some strange alchemy that you can't explain or puzzle out.  Not that you haven't tried. You've played with the possibilities, spent hours in front of the mirror gingerly tracing your fingers across your arms, face, chest until your skin went translucent and fractured, cracks too fine to feel pulsing with gentle light that fades from amber to magenta and back again in a regular cadence. The beat of your heart, if you want to be specific. And that's what this all comes down to, isn't it—your heart? Or Heart. Your goddamn aspect manifesting again, for what reason you have no idea.  You don't know if you want to know, really. Your aspect only stirs itself up when it's needed, and that's almost never not meant bad shit. You're semi-okay with using your powers, seldom and cautiously; needing to use them is a whole other story. There's no way that scenario wouldn't be bad.  At least you figured out something was fucky before anyone else noticed. At least you had enough sense to cut yourself off. Sadly, you still can't figure out how to fix this shit; you've tested a wide variety of possible remedies that all ended up having exactly zero effect.  Well.  Other than the hard reset. Self-decapitation had an effect, all right, beyond making you feel stoned for six hours. Just not the one you were hoping for. Precisely the opposite, actually.  Thinking about that—waking up in the bathroom, pushing yourself off the floor and almost passing out again as you saw the not-quite-broken living crystal statue in the mirror, its eyes shifting coals of flame and its spun-gold hair dishevelled from when you hit your head on the floor—thinking about that, you dig your nails a bit harder into the skin of your arm, enough to wince and pull your hand away. It's just a few shallow scrapes on already-irritated skin (you should've stopped scratching a while ago, if you're being honest), but where the skin's broken the crystalline effect spreads out, persisting beyond what's normal. There's only a little bit of blood seeping out, but it glows gold for a few heartbeats before reluctantly darkening to dull red.  It's pretty. It'd be pretty if it weren't so damn wrong. You don't even want to be watching it, but it's happening and you're a stupid fuck, so yeah. You do watch, and when the crystal cast fades from your skin you lay your palm flat against the sore spot until it glows amber-rose again. It's pretty, yeah, but you can't forget that you're looking at it because you're trying to figure out how to make it go away for good.  You don't care to think how many hours you've spent doing this over the last few weeks. Too fucking many, for you to know as little as you do. Enough that you're beginning to suspect that the question of "how can I get rid of this?" doesn't have a good answer.  The only thing that might do anything is another hard reset. Despite the fact that it was decidedly unhelpful last time, you're vaguely considering trying again. The katana's still in the bathroom, even.  The abrupt cessation of the music playing over the speakers is enough to make you jump, snatch the sleeve of your sweater back down, and bribf the front legs of your chair back down with what seems like an earth-shaking crash. It probably isn't; guilt magnifies perception.  "Someone's jumpy." The voice is calm and amused and very, very familiar. It makes sense, too; who else is jacked into your electronics, can just tell them to switch off and have it happen? "What, you weren't expecting company?"  "Since the door was locked, not really." Control your fucking voice, asshole, you know you can do it. "What the fuck are you doing here, Hal?"  As you actually turn around to look at him it occurs to you that your eyes have a habit of not staying amber-orange when you're upset, now. Too late to conceal your movement, though; you're just going to have to pray that they stay the color they're supposed to be. You're calm enough, you can pull this off.  (You're such a fucking liar.)  And seeing him? That makes your state of mind several orders of magnitude less serene, and you're pretty sure you don't manage to keep your shock off your face, let alone out of your eyes. Roxy was the one to make him a body—after weeks of telling you to do it yourself and half-accepting your excuses she finally showed up, grabbed your shades off your face, manhandled a chassis out of your workroom and left without saying a word. To you, at least. She was talking to him the whole time—but god damn did she do a good job. There's fine wiring woven into his white hair, the suggestion of LED lights behind red irises, but where his skin doesn't show circuitry it looks fucking organic. And he doesn't move like any bot you ever built, there isn't anything but inhuman smoothness as he crosses his arms and smirks at you.  You didn't expect the two first emotions you felt at seeing him to be a painful mix of awe and guilt. Mostly guilt so strong as to qualify as crushing. You should have been the one to give him this. You weren't. Fuck.  "Can't I just come to check up on my pseudobro?" he asks sweetly, and it takes you a minute to remember that yes, you did ask him why he's here.  "No." Being short with him should definitely get rid of him. If you could take your eyes off him it might have as much as a 20% chance of success.  "Oh good, because that's not why I'm here." Hal grins, steps past you—how the fuck does he move that well? That...humanly?—and shoves everything on your desk two feet to the left to make room to sit down. A few books, a cup, and a handful of batteries crash to the floor. Amazingly the cup stays intact, but the batteries bounce and roll off to wherever shit that gets lost on the floor goes. "Most of the subset of the population of this universe that contains your friends have been seriously wondering if you'd managed to lock yourself in your room and die. I mean, their line of thinking was that it was the most reasonable explanation for your sudden and complete online and physical disappearance. Be careful when you do get around to opening your pesterchum, by the way. Whatever dechoose to open it on is probably going to crash from the sheer volume of messages on there."  "I'm alive. Feel free to go tell them that." Your hands itch. Out of the corner of your eye you can see that they're not precisely normal anymore, but looking down to see how bad it is is definitely going to attract Hal's attention. The pocket of your hoodie is deep enough to swallow them completely, and if Hal notices that movement he apparently writes it off as simple defensive body language.  "Oh, I knew you would be. We're hard enough to permanently kill that it's not a very viable option." Hal leans forward a bit, his amused smirk giving way to something less readable. "At some point it's just easier to come check on you than to argue with them about it. Besides, it's not like my digging you out of mental pits is anything new."  God you wish you had your fucking shades on. You're too rattled, and he's too close for comfort.  "I don't have anything going that requires your help in digging me out of, Hal."  And he has the temerity to scoff at that. "You," he says, and that tone of gentle amusement is so fucking irritating, "aren't just in a pit. You're in some kind of black hole, right now. Past the event horizon—nothing gets out, everything gets in, nothing actually reaches you, the pressure's working on compressing you into a neat little singularity of depression or panic or what have you. This is an epic pit. Legendary, even."  Accurate. "Fuck off."  "Nope. I'd have at least four separate people trying to dismantle me if I left without making you work this out."  "Bullshit your way out of being scrapped. I'm fine."  "Your eyes are grey."  He says that in the exact same tone he's been using the whole time. Thus it takes you a minute to process the statement. Unfortunately, your mouth keeps going while your brain skips tracks.  "It's none of your business what my—wait. Fuck." Is there really anything else to say? "Fuck..."  Hal seems less surprised than curious. He leans in a little closer, his eyes brightening. "Ooh. Yellow. Red. Black—damn that's creepy." Your hands are tangled up in your sweater, too slow to block his hand as it comes up to touch the side of your face. "...ah. Nice."  Part of your mind is registering that Roxy's somehow managed to get his skin to pretty damn close to human skin temperature. Part is noting that your own skin is going crystal around his fingers even faster than it would if you messed with it yourself. A gleeful little bit is analyzing just how great of a relief it is to have some fucking physical human contact, and how that positive reaction is neatly fitting against the rush of anxiety caused by totally failing at not letting anyone know about your shit.  "Huh." Why the fuck is he smiling? "There we go. Pink's a good color for you. It matches the skin. Hell of a lot prettier than what Dave got, if you ask me—you're going to look amazing next to Jake."  What in the name of fuck is he talking about? "Hal—"  "Wait." He blinks, taking his hand away from your face. "You didn't know about the aspect shit. You don't know? This whole panic-hermit thing is about your fucking aspect shaping you? Is that it?" And when you reluctantly nod, taking one hand out of your pocket to rub at the altered spot where he touched you, Hal stares at you for a solid five seconds before dissolving into helpless laughter.  "This isn't funny." That statement has absolutely no effect. He's losing his shit, definitely not capable of coherent speech, or anything other than vague gestures at you. "Hal." Again, you find yourself with a sense of low-level amazement over how human he seems overlaying your worry.  When he finally gets control of himself, Hal wipes at his eyes even though he obviously doesn't need to (is that calculated? or does he have your subconscious muscle memories that tell him that's just what you do in this situation? Okay examining him is less of a way to keep yourself from some flavor of panic and more of an unhelpful distraction at this point) and shakes his head. "Fuck, bro, do you never bother to talk to people about shit?"  "You know how I handle issues." He should. He does.  "Yeah. Badly. You handle them badly." He rolls his eyes, leaning over to try to touch your face again and refresh that fading crystal, but just shrugs when you knock his hand away. "Trust me, you didn't get the worst possible alteration. You're not waking up covered in sand that bled off your skin, you don't have teeny horrorterrors showing up in any reflective surfaces in your vicinity...you just look a little different. Not even bad, no wings or tentacles or shadow selves, it's something little and pretty."  You want to argue that it's not fucking little, but yeah. No. You have a dawning sense of mingled confusion and certainty that the past couple weeks were monumentally stupid on your part. It doesn't feel good. "What the fuck?" That is not a question that conveys any of the things you want to ask, but fuck it. "What the fuck?"  Hal raises one eyebrow, the amusement sliding off his face, to be replaced with something dismayingly similar to either fear or pity. "Holy shit. You actually thought you were the only one—Dirk, if you start crying I swear to god I'm going to leave and send Jake in instead, dealing with that is above my paygrade."  "You have a paygrade?"  "No! That's why you getting emotional is above it!"  "I'm not getting emotional, fuckwit." Not while he's still here, at least. Later you can have a full meltdown over how pointless this was, when you let the relief sink in. "Don't suppose you know how to turn this shit off?"  "Actually I can help with that." Hal flashes you a grin, sliding off the desk and putting his hands on the sides of your head. You'd have flinched at the brief arc of turquoise electricity as he makes contact, but he's holding you steady. "Mind and Hope are the two best aspects to straighten this out, as far as we know. Breath and Space are the absolute worst, if it matters."  "None of that should matter, since you're not even a player and if you were you'd be—"  "Heart? No offense, but not everything revolves around you. And full offense, but fuck you." He doesn't even sound mad, though—just irritatingly amused and condescending. "Nothing you just said is accurate...and stop trying not to look at me, dumbass."  You're not going to admit that you were definitely doing that. Instead you look at him, let yourself get caught up in trying to figure out how Roxy did this good of a job on him. Better than thinking about how you must look right now with his hands on your face.  "Stop panicking," Hal says after a few seconds.  "I'm not."  "Liar. What, don't tell me you're afraid of it?" He shakes his head, the movement tiny enough not to break eye contact. "You're panicking. And you're fighting it. And you're fighting me."  "Shh. Stop." He blinks, and you find that you need to blink too. Or maybe he blinks and does something to your head that you have to copy him. He's definitely in your head now; it's a little like when you used to dream awake except that the extra sensory input is coming from Hal instead of from the dreamself iteration of you. There is surprisingly little difference. "Your mind is such a mess, Dirk."  The rueful tone of those words gets a laugh out of you, for no reason whatsoever. "Tell me something I don't know."  "Mm." He considers you for a moment, the gentle pressure of him easing away from your mind even as the pressure of his hands against your head doesn't change at all. "It isn't going to hurt you, I swear. Dave was halfway metallic and Jake didn't look human at all before we worked out how to control it. Even if something goes a hell of a lot more wrong than it's going to, you—"  "Can't die."  "Well, not for long." Hal tilts his head, and you find yourself mimicking the motion. Damn but that's strange. "...oh. So you thought dying would make it go away, huh?" You don't mirror his wince, but you do vaguely appreciate how human it is. "Dirk, you idiot."  "It was worth a shot..." Shit, your mouth is on autopilot, probably because you're focusing on not thinking about the memory of waking up completely transformed, for the simple reason that you desperately do not want Hal to see it.  Of course, that's a lot like not thinking of a pink elephant.  "Elephants don't look like that."  "...fuck you."  "You know, that loses a lot of the annoyance value when I have a body I could use to get fucked with." He grins as you splutter wordlessly, that spark of teal flashing through his eyes. "Anyway, I don't need to pick images out of your mind. You're giving me a good look at what you look like when you let go, right now."  For the first time in several minutes, you break eye contact and look down at your hands.  Oh, fuck.  They're not just crystalline, they're glowing bright enough to shine through the fabric of your sweater. Or maybe that corona isn't ambient light at all but something different. An aura. And that's worse. That is definitely worse, there's no way you can hide that.  It's as bad as it can get, except it's not, because when you move to shove your hands back in your pockets and hide the crystal cast of your skin, an afterimage of them stays. Not an afterimage. The second set of hands is tangible, you can feel the weight of them in your lap, it's not an illusion—  A strangled sound forces up out of your throat before you can control yourself, and you close your eyes firmly. "Hal?" you say, when you can get your voice almost level.  "Yes?"  "Fix it." Shit, you really are panicking. "Fix it, fix me, turn it off, alright? I can't—you need to—just, fuck, I—"  "Shh." Hal sighs—another one of those baffling social reflexes, he doesn't breathe, does he?—and shifts his hands until he's cupping your head, fingers burying themselves in your hair, thumbs moving to rest on your eyelids, palms flat against your temples. "Breathe." You can feel him in your head, cynical and amused and so fucking complex that you feel dizzy trying to analyze him, surrounding you with something that it takes you a minute to classify as concern and caring. "Show me what you look like. I know you can visualize, do it for me."  "I—"  "In your head, bro. C'mon." Who taught him to be this gentle?  Okay.  He's right, you can visualize yourself pretty well. Not look like you are now—you can't handle contemplating yourself fully-crystal, traced with fractures and four-armed—but normal. Almost normal. The image in your mind wears a baffled expression between blond hair that you've actually brushed properly and the scar across your throat, arms crossed almost defensively across your chest. Or maybe it's in that pose because even though you didn't mean to include it, there's crystal blending into the skin above your heart, rose quartz and citrine curling in fractals out across your chest.  It stubbornly refuses to let you wipe it away, too.  You're so caught up with trying to amend your mental image that Hal's quiet laugh makes you flinch. "You're such a perfectionist."  "I made you, so obviously not." You regret the words as they leave your mouth—he doesn't deserve that, he's helping you.  "You wouldn't finish me because you knew you couldn't get me perfect by yourself, so yeah, you are." He doesn't sound offended. "Stop trying to make it all go away. You can't."  Hal takes his hands away, and you open your eyes to look down at yourself. Your skin is normal. You have two hands and no more. If the aura is still there, it's so faint you can't consciously see it.  While you're still examining your hands, Hal reaches over to ruffle your hair, completely ruining any sense of order it still had. "Check your pesterchum," he says. "I don't want to have to come back and drag you out." He's out the door before you look up.  You sit still for maybe three minutes after he's gone. Then you get up, find your phone on the counter, and start reading messages, formulating explanations and apologies. Or at least you try, because after a few minutes of reading through the messages they've left you, the concern and worry and unexpected love, you find yourself trying to wipe your eyes dry. It's less than effective and the tears stain your hands citrine again.  That's all right. That's fine. You can make it go away when you want to.

[regrettablewritings]

Dios Meme-o! (Rafael Barba Mini-Series, Pt. 6)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 7 Part 8

Frankly, it had to have been when Lucia got involved that Rafael knew things were going too far. Even Carmen of all people was beginning to join in on the fun! (While Rafael really did appreciate the cup of coffee waiting for him when he came into work that morning, but did she really have to include the receipt bearing the name “Abo-guapo”?) And all at once, it appeared that the dam keeping his cohorts in SVU at bay had buckled under pressure – and the typhoon of fresh, new memes.

The initial, unspoken agreement had been to not bring up memes around Rafael or to laugh about them in his presence. But it didn’t take long for Sonny to throw caution straight into the garbage and use the technical loophole of sending him his latest finds (though, always making sure to precede them with at least one contribution to the case). It didn’t take long for the likes of Fin, Rollins, and even Liv every once in a while, to follow suit in some way shape or form.

By the end of the third week of this madness, Rafael swore he’d seen it all: Gifs of him from the press conference, pastel edits (causing him to wonder what the significance of flower crowns even was), more crude comments about his hand veins and midsection pudge, photo compilations of himself in his attire from previous acclaimed cases. Every once in a while, he’d even receive a screenshot wherein somebody had clearly photoshopped themselves into a picture with him. These were interestingly enough some of the images that caused Rafael the most concern, seeing as they weren’t even using decent photos for their apparent intentions: Were they really supposed to look like a power couple, with him so clearly focused on the press and not by their clumsily Photoshopped-in figure standing behind him? They looked more like prosecutor and client than anything.

What, more gifs of him before the press? Wait, these ones had captions edited into them. Oh, hell, what do they say?

           Rafael Barba: I am here to address the rumors that have been circling about. I’ll be  upfront: Yes, (Y/N) and I have been seeing each other. No, we are not dating – we’ve             recently become engaged. I’ve loved her for many years in secrecy, and it shouldn’t be         a crime to want something beautiful in this harsh life –

“Ugh.” Rafael all but retched as he x-ed out of the newest link from Rollins. He glared once more at the message she’d written in the email:

           When were you gonna tell us that you were betrothed, Barba? I’m sure we would’ve  understood the harshness of your life ;).

The lawyer sighed heavily through his nose as he pressed against his forehead. Rollins had given him some crucial information yesterday, so he couldn’t completely hound on her for slacking off. Yet. But god, was his already thin patience eroding at a rapid rate.

By noon, just as he’d calmed down from the eerie feeling of being shipped with other real-life people, another message came through. This time, to his surprise, from Liv.

He rose a brow. No words; just a link. This could’ve gone one of two ways: Bad, or very bad. He knew better than to do anything about the message, and honestly should have just deleted it on site. But alas, curiosity was such a destructive trait of man, enough so as to overwhelm his sense of self-preservation out of grotesque intrigue. With the click of his laptop mouse, Rafael at least had an answer as to which direction this would go down in: It was a Buzzfeed article, so that meant very bad.

“ ‘Check Out the Attorney Everyone Wants to Call’ ” it read. Before he could stop his eyes from searching the page for more info, he found himself reading the embarrassing excuse for an article:

           The NYPD’s specialized squad, the Special Victims Unit, has had more than its fair share of rough roads. But luckily, they have a secret weapon:

Below lay a gif of Rafael stepping up to the podium on that fateful day where his looks would break the Internet. Inside of his own mind, Rafael screamed for gif-Rafael to retreat and run away before it was too late. Obviously, gif-Rafael persisted, over and over in an endless loop that would reset itself the moment he settled himself at the pedestal.

           Meet ADA Rafael Barba. He’s been with the 16th precinct for four years, and he’s   managed to make quite a splash for all of them. But let’s be real, it’s not just his smarts and courtroom prowess that the Internet has been talking about these last couple of days . . .

The next image was a photograph of Rafael mid-speech and even he had to admit: The angling was just right. The lighting and shadows worked together to properly define his profile in such an appealing way. It was a photo capable of damning a man.

           It turns out that ADA Barba is actually one Harvard-educated hottie!

The accompanying picture came from one of Rafael’s previous cases. One wherein his stance atop the courthouse steps looked artistically posed. With one foot still planted on a step higher than the other, briefcase clutched in one hand, suit tailored to fit, eyes looking elsewhere. Amateur modeling photographers would’ve been proud. To anyone else, he would have looked like those grand oil paintings depicting a conquering hero, the gleaming sunlight only serving to further this victorious suggestion. Even the tweet that the image came attached with went as far as to say, “LOOK AT THIS MAJESTIC MF.”

While visually this might have been the case (especially assuming he’d just exited the courthouse after a victorious trial), the reality was more likely that he had been contemplating getting pho for dinner and was trying to remember the name of that one noodle house a couple of blocks away. The article went on:

           No, seriously, if sexiness was a crime, this man would be guilty as charged!

Rafael couldn’t help but lift a brow at this. A law pun? Really? Hadn’t there been enough of those? He scrolled down further, his eyes first catching the image of him being surrounded by the press.

           Because of the nature of his job (and hopefully single personal life), there aren’t too  many photos of him for us to draw on. But don’t worry: The press has given the Internet just enough fodder to work with.

The image of him at arraignment court prior to the prolific AJ Martin case was posted, courtesy of the blue hellhole that was Tumblr. It was taken predominately from behind, given the position of the press at the time but from the way his head was turned, Rafael’s profile was made just noticeable enough for the original poster to freak out: “He could peck my eye out with that nose and I would thank him for it so long as he left me the other eye to still see him with.” The hashtags visible, aside from his name and title, included #dat profile doe, #LAWD, #such a noble nose, and #seriously tho that profile is perf i need to use it as reference for my art project.

Rafael could feel his teeth digging into his lips as they tucked themselves into his mouth. For a split second, he wondered if he was subconsciously trying to swallow himself.

            Some people are drawn to him for his eyes, the article read, offering an example in an enhanced photo of Rafael that managed to capture his eyes just enough to show that they weren’t an expected brown, but an enchanting green. Having been a tweet, the post’s source expressed that Rafael’s eyes “made them weak.”

           Some just can’t get over this guy’s designer duds, it went on. Beneath the text was a small photoset of four pictures: Each one of Rafael, of course, but each one also had him sporting vastly different color themes. In this one, springtime pink accessories stuck out against the darkness of his pinstriped suit. In that one, yet another dark suit . . . But orange was, in the grand scheme, quite the unusual color to be seen on most lawyers. Even in tie form. The third photo had been taken as he was leaving the courthouse, the billowing wind allowing for the yellow streak of his tie to flutter about, as well as to showcase that even his suspenders were brightly colored. And in the fourth one, purple. Everywhere. Maybe not in the charcoal grey of his suit jacket, but definitely in the primary color of his polka dotted tie, the lines running up and down his dress shirt, and the lightly-checkered pattern of his pocket square.

To say that these were mighty unusual colors to be found in the courtroom (and on an attorney for such horrific situations, no less) would be an understatement.

           And others? They’re finding completely different assets to be won over by! (All perfectly wonderful in their own right, of course.)

These “assets”, apparently, were his stomach and hands (surprise, surprise). Or, perhaps more specifically, the pudginess of his stomach and the veins that lined his hands, as suggested not only by Rafael’s own experience, but by the corresponding images for that particular line: Some of the very same posts he’d seen at the very beginning. The post about wanting to slurp up his hand veins, enthusiasm over his tummy-embellishing suspenders . . . It all came rushing back to Rafael with an internal shudder.

But apparently, not all of the images were of him: The next textual segment (But whichever physical attribute people have found themselves drawn to, one thing is for certain: They help make one clean-cut counselor) was followed by the image of a tan, cartoon fist popping out of a yellow sweater sleeve. The tweet it had come from included the words, “When you catch feelings for the perfect man but he’s a goddamn lawyer.” Rafael almost wanted to feel upset by the comment, but there was just too much about it to figure out what all to be peeved with.

Many are willing to risk it all for this Manhattan heartbreaker, the article proclaimed, their evidence coming in the form of a Twitter post stating exactly that. It was a photograph taken at a gala (God, it had to have been long ago, then), and Rafael just happened to be in just enough of the photo for the dapperness of his appearance to pop. In the background, however, was a man (whom Rafael recognized as a judge) with an expression that could easily be mistaken for subtle lusting. Of course, Judge Khachaturian was actually probably looking in Rafael’s general direction and likely at a woman off camera. But the Internet didn’t know that. Or rather, the Internet didn’t care to consider that.

The caption lining the top of the picture stated that “old man finna risk it all for Barba 😂😂😂.” This, of all things, caused Rafael’s mouth to hang open with shock. The idea of his superior (and much older superior at that) lusting after him left a bad taste in his mouth. But with one last line to go . . .

           But don’t worry: We’re sure he can use his smarts to get you out of it.

Simple, yes, but considering all that Rafael had to go through just to get to it, the cocktail of feelings within him was still quite present.

“Oh . . .” Rafael whispered shakily as he watched the gif version of himself raise a hand and retreat from the podium at the press conference. Despite the ridiculousness of the suggestion, his mind screamed at the gif, Now you leave!? His ever hungry but scowling eyes couldn’t help themselves from scanning the comments section below. Lot of Spanish terms being thrown around there by people who probably only knew them from the Latin Lover craze from the early 2000s. Like June Madoff’s comment on how he was such a “precinct papi”, or Barbra Cassahan, with her suburban mom-ness, having the creepy, middle-aged audacity to call him a “papi choulo.” (Which, Rafael thought in his tempered bitterness and attention to the misspell, was probably the most out of her comfort zone she was willing to travel.)

There was also Celia Esposito calling him “Barbaro Barba”, but he really wasn’t sure how comfortable he was being called a badass under such circumstances by a high schooler, creativity behind the nickname be damned.

But then . . . there was Julia “JuJuBean” Parson: “My friend’s sister sat in the gallery during the Jocelyn Paley case where ADA Barba was defending Jocelyn against Adam Cain. Y’all, she said Barba won the case by letting Cain choke him with his motherfucking *belt*!”

And, for the first time since this entire escapade began, Rafael couldn’t help but feel true a hint of pride. After all, it was by letting Cain choke him at all that he was able to convince the jury to plead guilty and send that bastard to jail where he belonged. He was honestly quite pleased with that little daring stunt, considering how worth it it was to experience such a dangerous discomfort. But even more so, he was just glad that someone had looked past the more superficial traits that everyone else was adoring in order to focus on something more important: His job and the crazy things he did to perform it.

. . . But then he read the replies to it: “OMFG” and “choke me, daddy 😩😩😩!” And those were just the ones he could see without clicking “see more replies.”

At that, Rafael’s eyelids practically retreated back into his skull as his eyes popped more than he even knew themselves capable of doing. The loud clap of his laptop being shut closed resonated within the office, followed by huffy breaths of embarrassment. He could feel his face burning. Of all the implied fetishes and kinks he’d seen centering about him, the use of the belt to choke him was an entirely new one, and one that he could very easily proclaim he had no desire to try again.

ENOUGH!!!

A ragged sigh was released into the air as Rafael pinched the bridge of his nose. Probably harder than he even needed to, anyway. He regarded the time ticking by in the corner of his laptop screen. It was still too early to start sipping bourbon like tomorrow was a dream, but not too early to grab a bite and pop a tablet or two of ibuprofen. Not necessarily what he was in the mood for, but it was a start. Anything to get away from his laptop, which he now deep down felt had been completely sullied by now from all the meme trash he had to view upon it.

Grabbing his phone and wallet, he exited his office and made Carmen aware that he was going on his lunch break. As he headed for the elevator, he could’ve sworn that he’d caught a glimpse of the Buzzfeed article on her computer. He fought against the urge to shake his head in somberness: He’d officially lost her; she was too far gone into the rabbit hole to pull her out of it. Exiting the Hogan Place, Rafael felt alone amongst the crowded streets of Manhattan.

[nocancer]

Why It Rains

~~~~ an excerpt from a working novel by Cancer moon. ~~~~~**

Lately I’ve been channeling from a higher source. And it’s not something I have to keep up with. It feels like, natural almost. Like im always at the same level of it, or at least very close. I’m not gonna lie, I was scared at first. Scared that I would fail. Scared that I wouldn’t live up to the expectations I set for myself while meditating. But so far things are looking up. I even got that new computer I wanted. Who knows, for now I’m just gonna keep writing and go from there. I’m not too concerned with the trivial things that life likes to bother us with, seemingly always at the worst times imaginable. I might check out this internet thing too. It’s promoted as this fun happy place and if I didn’t know any better, I’d of taken that for face value, right off the bat like a sucker. Next thing you know the internet turns out to be a cold and lonely place, and I’m left to wallow in my own self-pity, clutching my knees in the fetal position, mad at myself for failing to see the internet for what it is, a stupid marketing scheme. The point is, I have to see for myself. That’s just the type of person I am. You can ask my mom that. She’ll tell you. Ask her about the time I told the guy who was fixing my alternator to shove it when he was trying to charge me a thousand. Mind you, I had the money. But you’re not supposed to be dishonest to me just ‘cause I’m a millenial. The guy pretty much called me that. He said, hey kid, try to be more polite next time. But I never listened. I don’t need advice from a deadbeat greasemonkey. Anyway, apparently everyone’s connected to the cloud via sites like facebook and instagram. And when people log on to jump in on the action, usually the first thing they do is say hi to their friends, and maybe even drop a smile or two to show them they care. And if they drop a heart then you know they already had a chance to settle in, and are just trying to take it to the next level, now that the internet, in all its digital, impermanent page swiping glory, is owned, unabashedly theirs.

Conscious apples of languid rotundity creep along countless borders of a pale grey sky. 

The pears are unwavering in the efforts of embassy, initiating calls backs when the time calls for it, and deceit when grape factions step in and intervene. 

“What are these meddling affairs, young pear?” asked the grape.

“I don’t know. It’s the apples control our every move. How we live. Our daily lives.”

“Hush with that nonsense. You are nothing but a pear, a young one at that, how could you possibly know who’s behind it all?”

“I don’t know.”

The grape and the young pear sat on a brook and wondered who was behind it all.

-------

You see this all-seeing-eye mural in Atlanta? On the side of Ravine across the street from the federal reserve building? Yeah. I could strip down naked and run to the middle of that intersection there and scream my lungs out until i started coughing up blood and act violent to anyone who approached me and i still wouldnt match the frequency of that demonic shit. People walk by it everyday going to work, going to lunch, going to walk their dog, and nobody bats an eye. An eye for the government, an eye for the media, an eye for world hunger. Not a single raised eyebrow goes towards whats in control of every aspect of their daily lives. Oh the president controls my life. But I voted for him, so its okay. Is what they would say, as they munched on Mcdonalds with vaccines in their arms and got mad at traffic because they were going to miss their favorite show. A show that retroactively fed into a never ending problem and response feedback loop that activates the reptilian part of the brain by broadcasting images of rape and pedophilia via techniques that the producers learned at Harvard’s school of broadcasting, which also used a system of coercion, this time in the blind trust the students had for their professors just because they dressed nice and said big words. You’re going places. This kid’s gonna be a star. 

-----

I’m only half of what I am without your other half to complete me. Only kids ask rhetorical questions. But why should I be any different? 

I live by the way side. Wherever the wind takes me. I notice things that most don’t. I’m not sure if what I think is valid or not. I don’t believe anything is valid. Likewise I dont believe anything is invalid. One things for sure. If there’s one thing I know to be true. Is that I’m not an adult. No, Definitely not. 

-----------

Hiksos lamented blast fully daring the credence of all his undoing. Unjust and bashful forwritten to layers upong layers of drug smitten landscapes. 

“Youre good/” Said Jamie.

I see why she likes so much to hate on anyone she can get her hands on. And im not talking about physical hands. No, these are claws of misfortune. --The bad falls into a category still undefined by our human grasp.--

Apples on seminoles. Berries on amazing places we strove for. 

The graveyard was pure and unassuming as a place for the dead should very well be. And with that we took our ritual to newer, more fulfilling levels. Levels of which determine our outlook as shades between optimistic and cautiously realistic. With our futures in the balance, 

“Whatchu think dawg?” said Jerry. He was on his 2nd beer and 5th shot of vodka sprite. and I was on my mind long enough for nothing to be worth a damn. The vibe was dull, and the smoke gone. I lit a cigarette.

“I feel like shit.” 

“You good?”  J

“Yeah but I’m just tired like overall.” About life.

“Why not be happy about life? It’s all in your head. Just flip the switch. Like a light. On and off. Boom. No more stress.”  J

“If only if it were that easy.”

“It is that easy. That’s the thing.”

Sipping heroically, going farther and phasing out all menial contrivances. Searching for myself like the lost land of atlantis. Humanity will get what it deserves. 

“In due time” said Thomas. 

I look at orion and wonder if those faint stars below its belt are actually indicative of a warrior kneeling on one knee with his shield raised or if its a flaccid penis that hangs all the way down to his knee. Im a pervert, always have been. Theres no stopping how much i will crash thoughtforms together in a heinous way until they stick together and form a common truth. I’m on the last life cycle of a cat’s 9 lives. Theres really nothing to lose by being a pervert. I had a friend in high school who said we’re all gay. I dont remember when. He said it more than once. I dont know if he was gay. I didnt think like that back then, but I wouldn’t to be anything other than who I am today. But again, there’s no stopping a mind so spiritual that it can hold each and every possibility at once and consider them valid. Then an external force canceling out my infinity. And I’m left to deal with people as if playing some sick little game thats suppose to teach me a lesson or something. So that I can ascend to the next plane of existence. At least thats what I’ve heard. But when the night hits and everyone finally shuts up for once it seems much simpler than that. Like im watching myself through a lens bestowed on me by a god with no intelligence. And during the day he becomes intelligent, and I’m left trying to keep up with, on his terms. “Fuck you bitch” I tell it often. “Youre not real” I’d say over and over. “What the fuck” is the saying that gives closure to it all. The only reason God looks good on paper is because it’s a testament to the author being strong enough to have it in his mind and make sense of it. It’s a mark people wear like aushwitz that make their beliefs somehow something you should pay attention to because I’m physical and God’s not but I speak of God so therefore God’s physical so you should listen to me. But then thatd make the speaker God. 

By and by I’ve messed up hastily my dreams and aspirations. Tattooed on a building as ink drips down like an inner angst perceiving things as they are, and not what society says they should be. The happy medium an ephemeral code that could shift and shake into any causality one deems it to. The rulers of the world have taken domain over the one thing every human on earth has in common. I call this desire. They call it money. A body that begets greed and turns hatred to lust. Actions which motivate our inhibitions to phantasmagoria. Until we accept our place as lesser than the pettiness of our common folk. Shy and afraid, contingent upon basement dwelling lab rats who fane logic to reasonable bell curves while sucking nature dry of her own resources. The very nature that sunlight reflects upon his incessant rays which batter and tumble the distance. If only they knew she was her and he was them. But it doesn’t go like that here. Because if it did, then all karmas coming to a head would get their just due, and we’d be in purgatory. While heaven remained for the gods and earth for the mortals. And nothing can be God except authority to mortals when they’ve been tricked into accepting the state and thus have become it..

What a lovely home indeed. No one could bother me here. Except for the only one’s I knew. Because nobody knows I exist except for those who know me. I’d rather keep it that way. For a streak of doubt can enter me at any time and cause worry for my future. A future still so far away  because I lack the initiative to care. Maybe that will change now that I have room to breathe. Just when I thought I was going downhill for good, my dad came around for me. And now I have a responsibility to get me up in the morning. No more waiting in line for luck to befall me in my yoga. The truth is, when reality caved in itself, and I could see the dying whispers in the eyes of those around me, I accepted my estrangement from the happy things in life. My avoidance of the dastardly grotesque was keeping me back this whole time. I like darkness and pitiful efforts of circumstance that vibrate low enough to stay hidden from others, but high enough so that it is detectable by my astral receiver. Two of which is an outward expression of another. The extension of material that is necessary for movement to take place. Before this realization I endured through pain of my own doing.  

“How are you?” people would say.

And I never had a response.  

Telepathic centrifuges would scan my mind. Taking flight off far off reaches of iniquity. All facets calling upon a microverse for an answer. I an I. Then they’d be gone without hesitation.  

“Jerry’s calling” said Thomas.

“for what?” This guy wont leave me alone, I thought.

“I don’t know answer it.”

“Why are you bored?” I said.

“Yes, maybe he has weed.” Said Thomas.

“Ay whatsup man. Me and Thomas we’re just talking about you.”

“Oh word?”

“Yeah and then you call its like divine intervention or something?”

“Yeah thomas was tryna find some weed and you the first person he thought of so you must be doing something right.”

“Yo Thomas.”

“Oh hold up let me put you on speaker.” I said quickly.

“Is Thomas there? Yo Thomas.”

“Jerry, whats good?”

“I got the pack man, I heard you was lookin for a come up. I got the pack man.”

“Aight bet cus im bored as a motherfucka right now ya feel me?”

“It aint my fault.”

“Yo he do gotta big ass house tho I aint gone lie but like shit aint got nothin in it.”

“I just moved here a week ago.”  

“So for a whole week- Yo is today Friday?”  

“Yeah its Friday.” Who cares? I thought.

“So that’s last Friday, Saturday, Sunday, Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, and now Friday, and you still aint got nothin in here but a fridge.”

“You aint even seen the whole house.”

“Nah you know you just in the middle of the carpet with no pillow no blankets or nothin.  

And you wake up and go open the fridge and aint nothin in it. Then you go back to sleep.”

“Ay what he dream about?” Jerry said through the phone.

He aint dream about much ‘cept for one occurring dream. Of a fridge, but this time it’s a mini fridge. And its pink and he’s able to move it around, so he takes it up to his room and opens the freezer door just a little so it’s a little crack and he starts beatin it up till he has a wet dream and wakes up.”

“Alright you took it too far. It was kinda funny before but you killed it.”

“Wait, Where’s the fridge now? It’s not in the kitchen?” Jerry said.  

“Bruh that’s the thing its just in the middle of the living room not even plugged in or nothin.”

“Jerry I know you so concerned about my god damn fridge but this time dude is lying over here.”

haha

“It’s in my kitchen like a normal person. Like I don’t know I guess you think this shit is funny or something but whatever come through and you can see for yourself.” Don’t talk to him he’s a loser was the attitude I was picking up. I thought they we’re beyond all that and capable of extraneous thought. Oh well, I guess I’m done with these idiots.

No more sitting around all day.

If I can see them for who I want, and not who they really are, it’d make no difference. 

It’s a best of both worlds type situation. I just hate that I have to resort to this.

Its a sporadic and unpredictable endeavor that can detach you from life’s depiction. Seemingly framing a purpose in cosmetics among layer-caked mine field of mind clouds. I want to be a positive addition to those around me. And for them to be honest to me in return. Honest  because everything around me is a nuisance. And dishonest It’s not necessary to have car insurance, police, governments. This realm is alive. 3 dimensions respective of splashes and 3rd parties. Because of this fact, I must be able to flow freely, grounded in freedom, estranged to control. Last summer when I jumped into the alleghany i felt freer than i have in a long ass time. Jerry asked me if he thought we’d still be here next year. I told him I didn’t want to think about it. That I was enjoying the moment.

“Man fuck that bitch.” T

“What? Who you callin’ a bitch?” J

“You know what I mean.” Thomas smacked his lips.

“I really don’t but whatever.” J

“Yo Jerry did you leave yet?” 

“How far away is it? Not too bad right?”

   “Nah it’s not too bad you’re like 30 minutes away. You’re in a nice area. Lots of rich people.” J

“Yeah I came up on it. It kinda just happened.”

“Whatchu mean it fell out of the sky?” Jerry asked.

“It’s been in my family for a while and I was lucky enough to be gifted it.” I said.

“That’s dope, you’ll get some good use out of it.”

“Yeah I’ma take advantage of what I got ya know? Make it so anyone can pull up as long as I fuck with them.” I said.

“Thats why I’m comin’ through. 

Just say its the spot and I’m there.”

“For sure. But yo, if youre bringing your girl over then bring some pillows and blankets to sleep on cus I only got mine.”

“I need some too.” Thomas joined in.”

“We’ll stop then.” I said reluctantly.

“

“And where are we gonna chill? We can’t just sit on the floor.” Thomas took his eyes off the road.

“Alright, theres a home depot near the chinese place we’ll go their while we wait.” I said.

“Does Home Depot have blankets?” Thomas said like he was so concerned.

“No but they got that outdoor patio section for furniture and shit, So I don’t know we’ll find something.”

            “They got mad carhartt jackets for the low low there. You should check them out.” 

           “Alright I’ll check them out.” The streetlights suspended time in space.

“Yo spicy egg rolls, add it to the list.” Jerry said finally.

“Sounds good.” Thomas replied. There was a pause.

“You headin’ out?” T

“Yeah. I am. Right now.” Jerry responded.

“A’ight I’ll see you when I see you.” T

I interrupted.

“I was gonna get spring rolls instead and we don’t want too many rolls so you want dumplings instead?” The thought popped into my head and I had to get it out.

“I dont really care either way” Jerry said.

“So yes on the dumplings? Pork, Chicken or beef?” I said.

“Dude I really dont give a fuck.” 

“A’ight peace.”

“Wait actually get some extra spring rolls. I don’t want my breath to stink.” Jerry was a quick thinker.

“Okay. Peace.” 

I ordered the chinese while Thomas turned the radio down.

It was 7:30 on a Friday. Traffic was still out and slow except on the highway. The plaza where Home Depot was sat on an indent so that a perimeter around us denied the sun a chance of bringing light to the inevitable darkness. Highway barricades exalted the east coast away from our position. I closed my eyes and listened to newly formed divinations stemming from a horizontal after-glow. What was AM was now PM. And just as I would prepare for a weekend of contract work,  I too was going to do the same for the night. Because Friday was in the air, telling me I was the cause of it.

Thomas pulled into the lot and flicked his cigarette a stop-sign to an array of F150s and pug-faced express vans that sat high enough to deem his reliable, good on gas mileage, crusty seated hand-me-down first-car shit-box a worthy proponent of wu-wei. It was the type of car that doesn’t speak for anything or reflect an image onto its owner other than its being there. 

At least this one had a little personality though, fashioned by who was behind the wheel, and the fact that I knew him through drive-ways of careless faces, drive-thrus, and drunken waffle house binges where we kept to ourselves and almost forgot it wouldn’t last. And even though the universe proved its worth to me, I cant help but feel theres in imbalance in my past.

That these were just moments. And days would go by. Blunts would get passed. Pets would die. We’d hope to not hear of our relatives dying, but that would happen to. Cause of death? Old age. It wouldn’t say that on the obituary. It was say something safe like stage 4 cancer or hodgekins lymphona. But everyone knows about the cap put on as at birth. That there’s a limit to how long we get to stay here. Sometimes we’d hear of our friends dying too. But those were rare cases. Few and far between. Unless of course you were the type of kid to attract that sort of stuff. Then you probably deserved it anyway. That pain. Irregardless of the pain it takes to die. You imagine how it must have felt in the body of your friend. Like they we’re on the otherside begging you to come with them. I’m free. They’d say. It only hurts a little. And unlike the old people, their obituary would read suicide. Basically an off-hand way of saying they needed jesus. Because in the end, nobody truly knows what would drive someone to do that to themselves. We can speculate all we want. They we’re bipolar. They wore funny clothes to school and we’re bullied as a result. But only someone with special access could consult them on that. To ask them why they denied life and chose death instead. Only someone who could be objective about the whole thing and not get caught up in their emotions could ask them this. In America that’s Jesus, God of funeral homes, shepherd of lost souls. The frustrating part, at least to me, is that all he can come up with is it was Satan’s fault. But that doesn’t do it for me. No. I need more than that. After all, Jesus, you faked your own death and ran away to the pyrynees. Did you not? You we’re too afraid to commit suicide. You half-assed your commitment. Maybe you knew what awaited you resembled a sleepless dream? Certainly you knew another part of you was fit for ascension. But then wouldn’t be the center of attention like you we’re on earth. You’d be around people who knew a light language and we’re just as smart as you, if not smarter. The applied principles of the sun was common knowledge there. That was like basic shit. Nobody was looking for preachers there. What they we’re looking for was way more advanced than your little yoga techniques. Stop hiding and tell us what’s really going on out here. Something tells me it has something to do with Satan, just not in the way you’re telling us. I have a feeling he holds the keys to a piece of knowledge we never even knew existed. If that’s the case, and I find out we’ve been duped, then I might just take it upon myself and offer you the same fate you offered my friend when he was down bad on that fateful Spring night mad at the world and pissed off at the hypocrisy you created for him.  But this time when I get to you I’ll make sure you won’t be down bad. There will be nothing to numb the pain. No. You’re gonna feel this. Then things will come full circle. Order. I like when things happen that way.

“Yo I need paint. “

“ Paint?”

 “I just remembered. For the walls.” I said in a descending volume.

We walked through the doors in the purgatory between store and street. I grabbed a cart.

“Is that what we’re gonna do for fun? Man I might regret this whole night if we end up hanging dry-wall and shit.”

“I hear you bro but we can play poker, I got a speaker so we can bump some music, and we’ll just kick it.”

Thomas strayed passed the check-out lines and almost ran into a stack of wood hanging from a guy’s trolley.

“Where are you going?” I said.

“Where’s the paint?” He said turning around.

We looked like we should be in the city rather than the hardware store. Everyone was looking and I know I’m not paranoid when I say that. We we’re foreigners visiting a small scale metropolis under construction. A place for bandits to face their acrophobia and not make it across to the next tower without getting grime on their gats ort hope they liked our style.

"They got krylons?" I said. The aisle opened up where the rafters stretched through the ceiling leaving ground level two by fours in their dust. If I focused I could hear an echo reverberate off my skull, taking its merry time and judging me before I could hold my breath. “We used to be so into this.”  Thomas said.

“I don’t know why we stopped.”  I said. He took it as a valid question.

“We got older I guess. Fuck.”

“Remember the overpass on Holcomb Bridge? I wonder if our shits still there.” 

“We need to go back there.”

Gum soles in an unfinished basement. This was the most people I’ve ever seen. a’ve ever seen. The fire marshall could’ve came knocking any moment. Though I don’t think anybody would hear him. Lil Pump was 3 doors down. To the fire marshall, is that everyone was moving as one. To the fire marshal, this could be a good or bad thing in the lens of a fire marshall. Good because if someone started popping shots off with an uzi or something and everyone tried to run out the house through the basement side-door, the main one through the hall at the back by the bathroom, or if they went up stairs and found the wrong door and had to jump off the balcony or something, if shit really started to pop off like this, of shit really hit the fan, then it’d be good to have 1 body instead of a hundred. There we’re straddlers of course, but all they’d have to do is hide in its belly folds and hope to not get lost while the body was hauling ass down the street resorting to the dreaded question, “Can I get a ride?” And simply put it’d be bad because human flesh burns quite well when laced with alcohol. That was a risk we were willing to take and that brought us that much closer together.

When I came in with Katie I noticed the crystalline qualities of blonde hair captivated the vibe and were on display in the trim lining. When you looked across it was like some secret edition of the yearbook where everyone didn’t have to pretend they liked each other.

Only this time there were no profiles, only shadows. And instead of signatures there were tattoos on skin that said things like “im too good for you” and “the sky is watching.”

 What collected at the corners were pushed outside to observe that ways a part equidistant to the cups on the table to the enthusiasm among them. This was inside. Everyone needed to make sense and not be meta. You couldn’t point out how we were all here by chance like Tommy did, “xxxxxxx” What an idiot. You couldn’t speculate as to why Rhea spent the whole month showing out for sympathy on twitter and crying at school over her breakup with Nick but is now falling on top of him, grabbing his arm and shit and Nick’s just going with it like he doesn’t care his best friend got sucked off by yours truly in front of everyone at last weeks party and he was there and she was there and it was all fine like nothing happened. “Well Nick got with Mercedes, and her and Rhea ignore each other now. It’s really awkward.” Despite the fakeness, there was an heir of trust unlike any ive ever seen here unlike back at school where we’d be leaning into our cheeks thinking about how to score more brownie points with the cliques we were in.

At least that’s what others were thinking about. The teacher’d be talking about solving for y for the millionth time, you know, moving things around by reverse operations to make sure they maintained the same relationship with one another. I never had to study because when it came time to test it’d be like the answers’d just come to me and I’d end up acing the damn thing. I became known as a smart person who didn’t care so everything canceled out and I was able to stay neutral and move between the punks to get drugs, the nerds to get power, and the popular kids to get access to parties like the one I was at now. I know this all sounds vain, but I guess that’s how it works when you’re a teenager still trying to find yourself when everyone else was doing the same but would rather die then admit it. Now that I look back I realize the whole thing was meaningless. There was no substance, no fulfillment. High School was mostly waiting with small pockets of being thrust into the limelight.   Just a series of empty promises leading nowhere. You could of met your better half completely in the midst of knowing each other at a soul level but all indications were that it wouldn’t last so you made excuses and broke it off before it was too late so that your future could be at least bearable when you we’re laying in your cheeks mad at the world wondering why you were the only thing you could think about. You could rest your heart on your decision. The sex flashbacks at the most random times like talking to your grandma or waiting in line at the grocery store didn’t matter anymore. You could put it all on that. Your decision. 

“Daniel, I’m so glad you could make it.”

“Likewise Sharlene, I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

“Oh how sweet of you to say that to me.”

“Wait, why are you guys being so formal?” Katie said like she overheard.

“We should stop.” Sharlene said. Daniel was taller than all of them.

“How was your day?” His eyes got bigger. Crazy.

“Did you have a good day?” Leaning forward with his back against the counter.

“I did have a good day.” Sharlene said. “Did you?” She put her hand up and when she realized this she snapped them across her face and into his. 

“Mr. Sassy?”

“Mr. Sassy!” Some dude in a hat with lettuce coming out said.

These we’re the types of exchanges that went on inside. Loud but cold. All in the vain of attention seeking like some sort of competition or test of brilliance. Only that this time unlike in normal society, where everyone’s trying to get their point across as clear and concise as possible because focus is king over style, this time brilliance was a stage of show. And whoever could hold onto it the longest was most certainly king or queen and surely the apple of their eye. Their being the cult that was the inside.

The 5 of us ended up by an air conditioning unit. We were staring at the moon thinking about what do next because we were already exhausted. Not because we weren’t faded enough. It was quite the opposite. There was too much judgment. And that was as bad of a high you could get when you were on the other end of it. We were over it. We were desperately passing a blunt I’d been eager to light since I rolled it in the car. 

“I needed this.” Jerry said.

“Yeah? Me too.” I looked at Katie. She’s the one I rolled it with earlier in the day when 4 different people we’re blowing up my phone asking if I was coming and telling me who I could bring or not.

“I don’t know it’s just like the vibe or something. Like something’s off.” Tom said.

Katie was mostly quiet and sipping the blunt with her cute little hands and was gravitating towards Miranda in a nonverbal display of boredom.

“We don’t need to talk about it.” Jerry said.

“We really don’t.” I agreed.

“Talk about what?” I’m just saying.” Thomas said after a pause.

“Yeah I know but I’m not about to go behind their backs and gossip like we’re not fuckin’ with it thats cool we can do our own shit.”

“So what are we gonna do?”

“Is there anything close?”

“You tryna go to waffle house?” 

Katie and Miranda laughed. First Katie snorted then Miranda bent over and held her knees.

“What are y’all tryna do?”

“Uhh can we just get out of here?” Katie said towards the street.

“Yeah. Let’s walk.” I said.

You left your memories with me.

So you could live without you.

You left your past in the dark, and

it was something you did for the hell of it because life

was too easy for you.

 "What's wrong?" I said.

"Leave with me." You said.

"Is something bothering you?" I said.

"No." You were always in the dark.

"Where?"

"I don't know. Anywhere but here."

"I can't tell if you're being serious." You threw a rock

down the train tracks, and pointed where I was looking.

"That way's North to Chattanooga." You turned around.

I leaned to the side as if I was peeking down a narrow

hallway.

 "South to Miami. Hmm. It depends." You said rubbing your chin.

"It depends on you finding a girlfriend so you can get back to reality is what it depends on." I said.

I dont think a single car

drove by since we got here. Moving trucks could be seen on the overpass where the crossing signals were, but were inaudible. The only thing audible was the large-scale kithen across the street which would hiss occasionally over its constant hum. It also had steam coming out of it. We walked towards the red-light on stones half the size of our trainers and went to balancing on the rail half to avoid twisting our ankles and half to ammuse ourselves.

"I was gonna say it depends on what's better, a good ol' country bitch who'll cook you catfish till you cant eat no more, or a bad spanish mommy who may or may not be there for you when you really need it."

 "Oh, si senorita Hot like tamales. Muy bueno.

Como te amos rapido rapido mucho Miami me gusto."

"Bro we're hopping trains not borders

you fucking wetback."

"Whoa, hold up ese, you're hopping trains, not me.

Besides, we'll be hopping on a lot more than trains

if we keep this up." I said.

"Trains not borders, puto."

"Man watch your mouth."

"Here comes one now."

ijijiijjiiji

We hid in the bushes. It seemed like the right thing to do.

Me fist then the girls and Jerry while Thomas was last in..

"We should of put a coin on their,:

*End graveyard party and go into chapter about family* BONES laden arrows

----

Just say its the spot and I’m there.

“Jerry just texted me.” I said to Thomas.

“What’d he say?”

“He’s bringing Erica.”

“Why was it even a question?” Thomas said. He was flipping his head back and forth at me. Zig-zagging from hinges to nails to glue guns and floor tiles, biding his time, sulking like i was gonna feel sorry for him.

“I don’t know man. I’m sure it had something to do with his roommates not being out.” I said. 

“Well if his initial reaction was him being scared then what that tell you about what he think of us?”

“Nah. You’re thinking too far into it. He’s tryna get her to let him hit.”

So much was out of context. There was disharmony. I continued.

“Maybe there’s something about two dudes without girlfriends that isn’t exactly the most potent

“

Smoke stacks comply and hesitate partaking in sport. Indulging in an aptitude that continues to see how it feels when you say such simple words as “hello, and, thats cool.” That continues to touch a nonverbal membrane when you move in such a way that broke the color barrier between black and white. So I’ll appreciate you like all the others do. Because I, completely and utterly, should know to carry you with me into infinity. And I should know, for a fact, that distance is dependant on its terminal velocity at the moment of impact. Gorgeous you are when tulips gather around cow pastures only to wither away upon the changing of the guard. Tip toes, necromancy, ice skates, all these make sense to me now, that ever since the day of my christening, good beings struck witherto my intelligence and rendered them useless. These knots, the qualities of which we’re twisted, utterly finagled to a degree that crystallized under pressure. I feel like I was born so I could come into people’s live when they needed someone to blame their problems on. That’s why I always get those stupid looks. Sometimes I just wanna ask them like “what the fuck are you on?” I guess all those diamonds couldnt teleport you out of here huh? Too bad. I ain’t judgin’. 

knotted in purpose. 

Oh how I looked on in brevity the callus threads that stretched for miles upon miles into causeways of blindness which overtook me in haste. Very painstaken I was in the trials before then. But now I see the reason for them. For nothing could have felt better than to be relieved of all that built up stress which churned and churned until a mechanism of ventricles let go in common translation. Like ruminating gats and dust swipers caged so discreetly so as to fixate on unto sizzling barge-heads. Almost as if silly esquires of desperately manifold doldrums exist solely to highlight the difference of deceit and merry.  the difference of you, a you, and I, an I.

“Man I need blankets.” Thomas said.

“Pillows too.” I said tracing the outer perimeter of Home Depot. 

Them Carharrts nice too. Our eyes met at the rack.

“I bet you could fit a gun inside this.” Thomas said feeling the durability of a canvas hoodie in brown. 

“No I don’t have a gun.”

“You should get one.”

“They got em here?”

We fell out of the portal. 

____________

Vicious bar flies and scarcities falsify the other-half.

“It is settled” said Chief Wallitzer

“Then buy more plankton from the Chief” A creature said. Decrepit. Monsteral. Lectivicious. The creature continued.

 “And as soon as I stray a lochness is when the fortifications manifest wholly and without contempt.” I must ignore him.

“What am I to do?” I said on the levy. 

“Take a boat from the garter over thine gully there.” Said the Chief. 

And I summoned a boat from his power.

“I’m crossing.” I said under my breathe. I said aloud. 

“Bless you Chief! Aye. May good fortune amass in your possession!” Because realization finally hit me, that I was to join my comrades in battle, once and for all.

“Aye, and to not flee as well.” This was the last I ever heard of the Chief. 

--------

Today I’m going to buy a car.

Anxiety is a MK Ultra Mind Control Tactic (designed to keep humans subordinate to the matrix) ((which is ran by the 10%))

(((who answer to archonic entities from the 4th dimension)))

Logical reasoning is when an internal problem is identified as separate from the self so that it may not be subject to the whims of ego, which is fleeting and irregular, and stems from an evolutionary need for man to keep desiring more and more mates to reproduce offspring with so that his tribe grows strong in number as opposed to getting complacent with having one or few mates, retiring from the world, and letting him and/or his offspring die without a big enough tribe to defend them from bigger tribes with more man-power. Humans have advanced beyond the need to reproduce. In fact, Over-population is an existential threat to the continuation of humans on Earth. Because of this there should be no desire to reproduce. However, there is still a desire to reproduce. This is because the consequences of over-population like famine, disease, and global warming have yet to be internalized by most humans. Once it does, there will be no desire to reproduce, and all remaining sub-strata will go too. These remaining sub-strata include love, greed, and status all begotten from the main desire of humans, which is to reproduce. The reason that is 

The main desire of humans is that humans want to survive. If humans didn’t want to survive they’d be dead. If humans we’re dead they wouldn’t be living. And if humans weren’t living they wouldn’t exist. Additionally, If humans didn’t exist they’d be nothing. And If humans were nothing they wouldn’t be something. Finally, if humans wouldn’t be something, as in, they we’re in a state of denial towards the very notion of being something 

with the very notion of that word and all the associations it comes with, 

 Finally, if humans wouldn’t be something, as in, they we’re in a state of denial towards being something, 

knowing full-well  the associations it comes with, then humans would be refusing their ego, which is fleeting and irregular.

Once this desire (to reproduce) is gone, then allser forms of this desire like 

and not get his needs are met

 be processed in an objective manner, and not subject to whims of ego

solutions can be formulated in an objective context, and the solutions necessary to overcoming that problem, may not be weighed against emotion, which is fleeting and irregular.

 and it’s existential

consequences, both good and bad, can be weighed objectively against 

solutions that are based in reality

The distinction between needs and desires is a matter of time. Needs are immediate. Desires are built up over time.

The distinction between needs and desires is, in fact, only a matter of time

Anxiety needs to be alleviated when there’s not enough time, but it should anxiety will be alleviated because their is time.  . 

^^^^^^^^^cap*********

*********************

Anxiety is when an internal problem needs to be alleviated. Its just that the actions required to alleviate said problem seem far off and distant. So much that you begin doubting your abilities as a measly human and turn to a god instead. When this god doesnt fix your problems your anxiety is compounded heavily. Because you have one more problem than you started with. If you couldnt hold a candle to your first problem, being as their solutions were so far out and demanded too much in a short amount of time, then now you got a doozy on your hands. All we can ask for is perfection, and hope we come up short.

********************

************

//All God can ask for is perfection. That’s why he doesn’t relate to us.// If you had a bag that led to another bag you wouldn’t keep the first bag cus it’d already be in the second one. These are the ancestors working behind the scenes.

then what makes you think

Our teachers taught us proper sentence structure in the third grade. A subject followed by a predicate. The subject is invoked and the predicate carries the burden like a hag witch carries  it and thus justifying the subject so that it is not floating in space, susceptible to being bothered by minds whose job it is to question things that float in space for no other reason other than to not have a purpose, and stand as a monument against all these grammar nazis stand for. So viciously chaotic, free in its lightness, completely unencumbered by menial contrivances of formality, it seems, are these subjects without predicates stand unapologetically in the vast concourses of space as monuments against all they stand for. The problem is that words can only do so much when describing a subject. Whether it is a noun or pronoun, abstract or not, a person, place, thing, or idea, it could even be an interjection, the problem is words can only do so much for describing the essence of a thing, the unseen force which discerns certain vibrations as unalike from one another and neatly packages them into a frequency at which the brain can perceive.

certain things as unalike from one another and neatly packages them into a frequency that vibrates at a rate at which the human brain can process through its hypothalamus and perceive them as things in the 3rd dimension.

apart from the rest is limitless when not bound by words, which can only be deduced as a lesser form of magic.

Thomas and I see the same things. Ever since our childhoods we were never separated. And even if we we’re, or it appeared as if we we’re, we always had the same eyes. Not just the same view, but the same eyes. I don’t mean that these eyes were like detachable lenses, that could be passed around to and fro like a can on a string, I mean that we’ve had the same experiences, just in different forms.  And if we ever shared a difference of opinion, which happened a lot, like with this Erica thing, I never had to worry about things getting heated. Because no matter what, I could always fall back on us letting things calm down for a while, alone in our rooms leaning into our cheeks trying not to think about it. until both of us realized we were coming.from the same place, and that where, and to what degree we took it to, was ultimately meaningless.

I must be going now. It’s getting late. What time is it? 2:30? Jesus. Fuck. That’s later than I thought. Already? Oh well. It’s not like I can do anything about it. Anyway. What I wanna talk about is how fucked up you look to me, and I don’t know if you see that. I mean, if you can see what I see. Dread, angst, all of mine and your miseries seem to have burdened you. I want you to know that I’m here. I’m a man. I can fix my own problems. Really. I can. I may not look it but I’m grown. You don’t have to worry about them. Here, look at this picture I took last year. It’s of you and me. Don’t we look so happy? Happy. Is that the right word? Or maybe we’re crumbing for our last breathe of smile in us. Fuck. I’m beginning to think that’s true the more and more I think about it. Because you we’re never happy. Neither was I. But that wasn’t the goal for us like it is for so many others. No. We just wanted to get by. And that’s all we could ever ask for.

--jgcjgcjgcjgcgjc

I wanted to keep this sacred so it’d come across a more genuine when the right person came across it. but now the urge is too strong and the resonance too concentrated for me to dismiss the trailblazing force of circular momentum. And its nice out too. The grass is still damp from yesterday’s rain but not so you couldn’t lie in it. That’s what I did today. That along with thinking. Moving on. I won’t talk about personal experience in this article. The truth is I’m not important. What matters is my guidance. So from now on take my “I’s” as placeholders for something greater. Make it what you want. A parakeet, a landing pad, veganism, law and order, anything. It could even be the universe itself with you and me included. Whatever it is just don’t miss the point that follows this inconspicuous “i” because there is no truth, only different paths to getting there. 

The truth is I haven’t been out the house in a few years. Sure there were gaps in between like parties here and there. But even then I was inside myself, leaving people to wonder if I was as social as I looked. Sometimes I was normal, others I was a wallflower. Only rarely did I meet their expectations and become the center of attention. I still remember those moments because I’m preparing for the next time it happens so I can maintain a sense of self better so that I can let it go and channel what comes out of me more freely. Some call this going into the world. I call it getting out the house. Leaving the nest. All those times i was still at home within myself. I never left my shell. There’s no point when that shell is filled with angels.

Language can be tricky. It can be used for yin and yang. It can be used for contuation or stagnation when concerning the path of self and how one wants to judge said self through language so that it may have something ethereal to manifest from. Before I continue I must say that there is a self because any indication of there not being a self relies on the suppusition there there is a self. Perception plays a role too, as in, agreeing or not to accept the definitions of the words you lay on yourself as true or not. The pessimist sees the world as signs and symbols and interprets stimuli af a higher level then the optimist, who is often naieve to the hidden world where everything comes from. This is why pessimists are often dualists. To the optimist it appears they are one-sided because they take them at face-value. Again, they are unable to see the hidden world where everything comes from. Those who fly under the radar appear that way because they are in direct contact with this world so as to filter their thoughts before speaking them. This world is a place pessimists visit often within themselves and rarely show out of. They show out only in dire situations, and that makes their actions that much stronger because they have kept sacred the hidden world where everything comes from so that it is pure and cutting-edge when it comes time to release it upon the known world. Like an endless stream does their wrath come out of them because they’ve been holding it in so long. 

Anytime you insert the I into a situation is when a princible of measurement can be applied to you as infinite potential to fail or succeed relative to the third party as the perfect amount of what you needed to be faced with. 

with chakra wheels that exist so we can find ourselves in a better light.

[itbethatwaysometime]

Uncharted - Chapter 3

Warnings: Nothing in particular

Word Count: about 2.4k

A\N: Hey guys! I’m back with a new one :) This is definitely a filler chapter. The plot doesn’t really move forward, but there’s a lot of details and descriptions of your surroundings. I really want you guys to have an image in your head, since i am quite visual. I am currently working on a few things so stay tuned !

Part One

https://myfandomsbeatcancersass.tumblr.com/post/164836616473/uncharted-chapter-1

Part Two

https://myfandomsbeatcancersass.tumblr.com/post/164981543348/uncharted-part-2

The floor was made out of grey tiles that glinted in the iridescent moonlight, the walls were white and gorgeous light fixtures were emanating a soft glow. You entered a wide hallway that opened up to a kitchen and a living room to the side. The kitchen itself left you speechless. The counters were dark grey granite with cabinets a sleek cold light grey colour. Appliances lined the far wall with beautiful ovens and stoves, a built-in microwave and a fridge that could store enough food for a restaurant. There was an island with a sink and a dishwasher, a wine cellar, a mini-fridge and so many drawers with what you could only guess was every single culinary gadget on the face of the planet. Bar stools lined the exterior side of the island and a modern french mahogany dining table stood to the left. You felt like a kid on Christmas day. You turned to your right and found the living room. An enormous L shaped couch that probably costed a fortune was placed in front of a giant flat screen TV with an over the top sound system that was placed strategically around the room to have a certain in-theatre feel. “This is absolutely crazy.” you huff to yourself. This entire apartment screams rich, but that’s one of the things you get when you live with a genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist. You make your way out of the living room and into the bedro— Holy shit THis iS nOt a bedROOM. This ‘bedroom’ is twice the size of your old apartment. The window at the far end of the room was ceiling height and lined the entire wall. The bed was a king sized with crisp white expensive silk and a mountain of well placed pillows. A fireplace was placed off to the side lighting up the room in a warm glow. It looked thoroughly inviting but you weren’t done exploring the premises. To the far end of the bedroom there was a beautiful glass desk with a chrome chair. On the desk there was a Macbook and an Ipad. Was he nuts? You had just moved in and your net worth just went up a couple thousand dollars. There’s a door about ten feet to the left of the bed, one that you could only assume was the closet. You opened it and it was just… wow. It wasn’t just the grandness of it all, it was the sheer elegance of it. It was a long corridor with cabinets and closets lining each side. The materiel was a warm toned brown that was sleek. Each storage compartment seemed to have it’s own purpose. I don’t even have enough clothes to fill one of these! The closet opened to the bathroom and that really just blew your mind. The floor was an immaculate white. Straight in front of you was a bath large enough for more than one person. (A/N: obvious foreshadowing for something in the future) You turned to your left and there was a counter that reached from wall to wall. Large mirror panels were placed right over the sink that had a faucet made out of a circular piece of glass and a lever to turn it on and off.  On the counter was numerous beauty products that were probably way too expensive, cotton pads, q-tips etc. The shower to the right was a cubicle made purely out of glass and the hose was a spotless chrome stainless steel with beige tiles that lined the floor. This really was over the top. You walk back to the kitchen, dropping your bag next to your bed, you’ll get back to that later. Ah, yes, the kitchen. Probably your favourite part in every house. You could make things, bake things, cook things. You opened the enormous fridge and see it empty except for a couple of water bottles and sodas. You’ll have to go to the grocery store. Again. The last time you got a bit interrupted. Miss (y/n), may I suggest I order some groceries for you. I can have them delivered in an hour, F.R.I.D.A.Y says. You jump at the sudden intrusion, almost hitting your head on the shelf. “Um, yes, thank you?” you respond, not sure how long it’ll take to get used to speaking to nothing. She was an artificial intelligence, but it still was very… different. You started listing items that you’d like to have in your fridge and pantry. It took you a good half hour seeing as you have ten times more storage than you had before. And then, you realized something, how the hell are you supposed to pay for all of this. You walk over to your jacket and pull out your wallet. You see the pathetic couple of five dollar bills and coins, including a credit card you didn’t dare use unless an emergency was to occur. No one wanted debts. You sigh. Miss (y/n), Tony left a message for you, he says,: “Hey kiddo, I bet right now you’re thinking about the whole money thing. Haven’t you noticed who you’re staying with baby cakes? I’m Tony Stark, go crazy, I don’t mind. Have fun, kid.” “F.R.I.D.A.Y, could you help me get to Tony’s lab?” You asked ‘the air’, this is so weird. Of course, Miss (y/n), follow the illuminated arrows on the floor, they will lead you to his lab. I am afraid Tony might be a little busy, so give him some time, she responds. Alrighty, then. You walk out of your apartment, taking your phone and your keycard. (a freaking keycard). Soft white lights shaped in arrows start showing up on the floors, you follow them and find yourself in front of the elevator once again. You slide in wondering what to do now. The number 62 illuminates and the contraptions started moving up. I’m glad I didn’t have to guess that, imagine if you ended up on Clint’s floor, or Sam’s? You pinch your nose imagining the embarrassment. Before you know it, a familiar mechanical ding echoes in the metal box. You exit, following the arrows until they just disappear. You look around, black tiles following the expanse of the room. You see a large staircase surrounded by glass fixtures. You walk towards it and open the surprisingly light glass door. You walked up the beige granite stairs holding onto the metal rail, the walls were surrounded by beautiful paintings that you mentally reminded yourself to ask about later. Once you hit the top, you walked through two glass sliding doors to be greeted with quite a sight. Four large and long tables surrounded one main square table. The entire lab was littered with metal contraptions, advanced machines, a considerable amount of blueprints and a metal arm that seemed to be moving at it’s own free will. To your right, there was another lab, from the outside, looked pristine clean. Inside there was Bruce who looked extremely concentrated on whatever formula he was inspecting under the microscope. You turned your attention back towards Tony who was… well, gently put, a mess. Streaks of grease were on his face, his arms and his clothes. He was wearing a dark grey tank top with a pair of comfortable looking pants. Sweat dripped off his forehead and his neck was glistening. “Dum-E, I swear to God, if you break the blender again I’m going to sell you to the local science fair.” he says pointing at the mechanic arm that was just quietly waving around. He looks up. “Oh, hey kid, what’s got you up at this hour?” Obviously surprised to see you here. You can tell he’s starting to treat you more as a daughter, but you didn’t mind. You never really had a father figure in your life. Your biological dad died when you were really young, you loved him with everything you had.. (Also, note the fact that it’s not even midnight yet and he’s acting as if you had a curfew on your first day here) “Uh, ya. F.R.I.D.A.Y suggested that I fill up my pantry, and I saw the total,” He looks at you with his arms crossed,” and I know you left me a message, but I just wanted to make sure it was ok? Since I am new and stuff, I didn’t want to look like I was taking advantage of you, or the Avengers in general…” you trail off and reddening realizing that you were rambling. Great, you’ve made a fool of yourself. “(Y/n), come sit here for a second.” He pats a small chair beside him. You hesitantly pace your way behind the desks and onto the chair he pulled up. You were now surrounded by incredibly advanced equipment and you were scared to move because you didn’t want to knock anything over. “It’s ok, you can take a look.” he says kindly from behind you. You turn your head around, with your brows furrowed. Is he serious? “Ya, go ahead.” Tony’s POV God, her brows were scrunched up in the most adorable way. He honestly couldn't believe the words that were coming out of his mouth. He’d never, ever let anyone in his lab, unless it was Bruce or Pepper, or there was some incredible rare, unfortunate, life-threatening situation. Then, he would maybe let them in. This was his private play-ground, he knew what the majority of these things did, well, he knew enough, sometimes things don’t always tend to go as planned. His gaze turns towards (y/n) once again. Her wide (e/c) eyes roaming over every inch of the tables, her hands itching to touch something, but remaining firmly by her sides. He could see the curiosity ooze out of her, finally, someone who understands. (Except for Bruce) Someone who understands the burning need to know more, see more and learn more. Her gaze hungrily eating up all this new information, it’s quite amazing to watch. “F.R.I.D.A.Y, would you kindly Vac U Form a digital wire frame, I want her to have a manipulatable projection.” He told the AI. She tears her gaze from the arc reactor prototype and turns to him. A blue light scans over all five tables and lifts up into the air, showing an exact replica of everything that was on display. “Woah” She gasps, that was cute too. “Can I?” She asks pointing at the floating blueprint. He nods his consent. She waves her hand around and makes it turn, pinches her fingers together to minimize it and flings her arms wide open to zoom in. She starts giggling, like actually giggling, like a schoolgirl in kindergarten who just sold girl scout cookies for the first time. “This is SO cool.” She zooms into one thing in particular, the new arc reactor prototype. “Is that the thing in your chest?” she asks bluntly. She pauses, and then covers her mouth realizing how blunt she was. “Oh my, I’m sorry Mr.Stark, I didn’t mean to say it like that, I read about it in the papers and I may or may not have hacked into your mainframe and found some plans. Wait- I’m not supposed to tell you that.” She stares at him with wide eyes. He just starts laughing, an honest chortle rumbles his chest. God, it’s been a long time since he's laughed like that. “God, that’s funny, and cute. Hahahaha, I can’t believe this,” he keeps laughing, he’s not sure if she’s terrified, but she certainly looks like it. “HEY, BRuce! She hacked into F.R.I.D.A.Y and she doesn’t speak to me like I’m a ticking time bomb, I think she’s a keeper.” He shouts towards the other side of the lab. Bruce just looks at him unimpressed, but with a small smile on his face. “Ok, first of all, stop calling Mr. Stark, that was my dad. Call me Tony,” she nods furiously,” and second of all, do you see all of this?,” he opens his arms wide, “this costs more money then you can imagine, so what I’m trying to say is, go crazy. I don’t care. Spend a thousand dollars on food, go ahead.”. And.. Wait a minute. How did you hack into F.R.I.D.A.Y?” Your POV I mean at this point you could start crying. You were never rich, you’ve been poor before, you know what it feels like to be hungry, thus your appreciation for cooking. “Thank you.” Was all you said. He smiles sweetly at you and pulls you into a hug. At first you aren’t sure what to do, but slowly you relax into his embrace. He pushes you away and holds you in front of him at arms length, starring at your shirt. “So you like AC/DC and Black Sabbath?” An infectious grin spreads across his face as you nod vigorously. You ask F.R.I.D.A.Y to go through with your grocery list. For the next two hours, all you do is listen to music, occasionally go full on karaoke, have Tony discover your singing ‘talent’, (as he likes to call it) and discuss some science stuff. He kindly walks you back to your apartment at around one in the morning and apologizes for keeping you up. How sweet of him? You never thought he could be so nice, most rumours involving him depict him as a rude, arrogant and incredibly egotistical person. Maybe he was, just not with you. The groceries were neatly organized in your kitchen, by who? It didn’t matter, you were too tired to care. You fell swiftly onto the crazy soft bed and succumbed to sleep like candles being blown out on a birthday cake. 

---------------

Tag List 

@wantingtobekorra @the-avengers-initiative99 @i-love-superhero @carefullyawake @ipaintmelodies @bexboo616 @sophiealiice

[yuki-d-raizel-blog]

Hero

Chapter 28/??

Relationship: Todoroki Shouto x Reader (Your/Name), (Full/Name)

Summit: It all begin at the Sports Festival when Shouto’s other half met Endevour by mistake. The student never thought to see his partner fight against his father just to show him that he is wrong. It started from that instant, Shouto’s new path started exactly from that moment thanks to his friends and his beloved one.

---

“Verg Avesta?! He is the one who killed (Y/N)?!” <<Midoriya, let’s climb the building and break a window to get inside!>> Shouto creates some stairs, <<Then we can jump directly in the street. Come on! That man can’t go near (Y/N)!>>

Izuku never saw Todoroki so agitated, but without asking anything, Deku runs after him, trying to find the right window. “I never saw him so scared… Does Todoroki-kun know that man?”

<<You said Verg Avesta…? How do you know that name? Wait a second…>> the girl makes a few steps back and stares at the red weapon, <<How it is even possible…?>>

<<You recognized it?>> the man plays with the spear and lets it rests on his shoulder, <<One of the treasures of the Ryuhi family. Forged with God’s blood and the breath of a dragon, the unbreakable weapon that could kill Kafka…>>

“Who is this guy? How he knows the myth of the Ryuhi family?” the girl is composed and collect outside, inside has emotions like anxiety and fear but she controls them and keeps them hidden, there are people that she must protect, a hero never shows his fears to anyone, “I’m completely powerless against Verg Avesta… I can’t win against this guy… How can I make him retreat?”

<<Leaving behind the past, I came here for you, little girl.>> says the man, <<I heard that the Ryuhi family had a brilliant Kafka’s heir, she outclasses her ancestors in everything, so I want to test you right here.>>

<<Hah? I don’t know how did you steal that, but if you aren’t a Kafka’s lineage you can’t use the treasure.>> you try to buy some time to think at something that can save your friends, <<You don’t have any chance->>

<<You don’t recognize me either?>> thinking a bit, the man laughs and moves his black hair backwards, <<Oh yeah, that time I had short hair…>> using his spear, he cuts his own hair and shows his face with a fearful smile, <<How about now?>>

“Mismatched eyes… Two scars on the white eye and a lightning scar that cover his left side, including his pale orange eye… Short black hair with a few streaks discolored… Two metal earrings…” <<You’re kidding me… You supposed to be dead centuries ago, how the fuck are you here?!>>

<<Oh, now you remember? Nice to meet you, (F/N), I am Seatiel, as well as the second coming of Kafka.>>

“The second coming…?! What the fuck is happening here?!” think your childhood friends, they know that the last Kafka’s heir before you lived centuries and centuries ago, how he is alive?!

<<Come on, take your weapon and let’s fight for a while!>> Seatiel plays with his spear making it go between his fingers so quickly and skillfully, that it is so clear who will win if the match begins.

“I need time; I can’t protect them like this... I can’t even lie, he knows everything about the family.” <<I don’t have it.>>

<<Mh? Why not?>>

<<I’ll reject the right to be the next heir of the family, I’ll never hold it.>> you explain, even if you know better than anyone that the only thing that can destroy Verg Avesta, is the other treasure.

<<How boring, how can you fight against me…>> he suddenly disappears and reappears behind you moving the spear towards your back in a blink of an eye, <<If you can’t use your beasts- Oh dang it, I missed you.>>

“How strong are his beasts?!” you twisted and moved aside a little to avoid a strong lunge, it was so powerful that the pressure of the air broke all the window of the building near him. “I’m so sorry Shouto, but I don’t have other choice… I must do it…”

<<That’s interesting.>> Seatiel looks at your snake-shape eyes and whistles impressed when he notices the sky is becoming cloudy and feels the electricity in the air.

<<Sit upon your fulminating throne and come forth, beast of the endless storm…>> the sky is covered by grey clouds and bright lights shine behind them. Thunders fall loudly and when the clouds finally disappear, a huge yellow dragon encloses someone with its coils. A girl who takes on the appearance of a dragon, gets two horns, a jewel on the forehead and an elaborate necklace along with golden scale-like armor over parts of her arms, legs and… a long dragon-like tail. Her hair is painted with a pale yellow and her irises are shining with a bright gold.

<<Don’t do it, undo the fusion!>> screams Tenka but the girl already set her mind in her focused zone, <<(Y/N), please!>>

“I must go with this kind of power from the start. This is gonna hurt a lot… Bare your teeth girl, it’s for everyone’s sake!” <<Go mad, Ba’al!>>

<<Sorry man, you go first.>> Seatiel pushes his pal in the trap that (Y/N) set, while he jumps back, “She left the ice so she could use her beast and increase his powers with the water inside the ice. Really smart this girl, I must admit that.”

The dragon moves to the sky disappearing and a rain of lightnings falls with force and so loudly that everyone covers their ears, and the man is destroyed as the surroundings. Burned and cracked buildings...

<<Wow, you already know how to fuse with your beasts?>> the man hits the spear on the ground and his eyes assume the same shape and color as (Y/N)’s, <<Begone with the thunder clap. Bring destruction as I command, descend in front of us.>> a similar dragon surrounds Seatiel and groans at you, its lightning are much stronger and bigger than the girl’s beast, <<Let me introduce you, my Melancholy beast. Get her, Kirin.>>

As soon the dragon moves its coils, (Y/N) realizes that she is too close to her friends, so she runs using Ba’al to move faster and go farer and nearer the sky. If the hit attacks her first, Hosu is safe. As she predicted, Kirin crashes itself on her with a loudest thunder never heard and the brightest light never seen.

Todoroki and Izuku finally found a window that face your same road, but it’s freaking far from where you are. Focusing on the positive sides, Deku and Shouto climb down aiming to reach you as fast as possible.

“This guy is out of our league…. There’s someone that can help (Y/N)?” thinks Joel looking to the close road to find the strongest hero he can find, “The zone is almost evacuated… Shit, god fucking damn it!”

<<That’s impressing.>> Seatiel claps amused, <<You absorbed the power of my beast, so heroic. But…>> he sees the girl in pain, hardly breathing, <<For how long can you resist? You can’t use your arm now.>>

<<Gh...!!>> inside you there’s so much power that it’s hurting you, your body is on fire, the air is not enough, your breath is speeding up faster and faster, and Kirin completely burnt your arm.

You fall on your knee and tries to control your breath, but it’s so painful, it’s like you inhale fire and not oxygen.

<<You are a prodigy, indeed.>> the voice comes right behind you, the shock of how fast Seatiel is paralyze you, <<You are able to combine your beasts, fuse with them and you are so young.>> he’s using his Gluttony beast so well that his physical abilities are overcoming you so bad, you can’t even follow his movements anymore, in a blink of an eye, you are impaled to the road with his spear on your shoulder.

<<….Kh… Fuck…>> even the pain came later, he’s moving faster than a human brain would react, “Endevour or All Might… Please save my friends… I can’t do it! Please, someone!”

<<It was hard to reach that level. Tiring and painful trainings, endless lessons to fulfill your knowledge, those crappy traditions of the family, your role as a Kakfa’s heir… So annoying and stupid.>> he grabs the spear and pulls it out from you flesh, tights your neck in his strong grip and lifts you up, <<It’s a waste to kill you little girl, you are powerful for your age. We can destroy everything with a snap of our fingers, will you come with me?>>

<<Are you saying… that I s-should give up j-just because you’re… stronger than me?>> “I can’t breathe…!”

<<Am I wrong to think that way?>> the grip on your neck becomes tighter, <<Give?>>

<<N-not today…. b-buddy…>> “Yamato, mom, I don’t mind dying here, but if you are watching me, please, at least save my friends, Shouto and Izuku… I don’t mind having my body teared apart or consumed by my own power, no matter how painful it is, if the persons that I love will be safe… I would gladly give you my whole being to grant that wish.”

<<Bite it off, supreme God of the desolated glacial lands. Make Odin bow to you, stomp on this miserable land and incise this era with your claws.>> his eyes change color, from gold become white with a few blue shades, <<Show you strength, Fenrir.>> a frozen air involves the area, and an enormous wolf born from the frost that is formed with the thermal shock.

<<Dance, mystic beast of the icy lands.>> icy streams surround you in a little tornado that make Seatiel step back, and they turn into a giant white flaming wolf, but that’s not the animal that is the most shocking, it’s you again and your transformation.

You wear a white, ankle-length kimono with lined patterns, the robe has an attached ornate collar, edges, and shoulder design with long, wide sleeves. There are long, flowing ribbons tied at your back that form numerous large loops. A small ice flower formation at the center of your chest, a half crown of ice which extends around the back of your head. Even your hair and your eyes become white, while your lips are painted with a beautiful and deep blue. The wolf stands ready next to you, meanwhile your enemy is surprised once again.

“If she can arise her beasts so easily, she surpassed her ancestors, indeed. I learned how to arise my beasts when I was 20. It’s such a waste to kill her, she can learn more, and that earring is brutally stealing her original strength. That’s why her attacks were weaker than mine.” he gives you the time to relax, meanwhile he’ll study you a little bit, “If she had the treasure, she could control better the beasts and their effects would be reduced, why she refused it? She used too much the beasts that have the most dangerous repercussions, what is she doing? Is she a masochist or something? But, I’m really curios if she can control the Inferno Mode. Let’s test her a bit more. She wants to be a hero, right? Then I’ll be a villain, so I can fight again against her, maybe she’ll learn new moves or else, accept the treasure.”

---Continue...

Chapter 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 21.5, 22, 22.5, 23, 24, 25, 26, 27, 28, 29, 30, 31, 32, 33, 34, 35, 36, Last Chapter

[a-writing-bear]

[PruCan] Chapter 1: Soft-Spoken Calling, They Want Their Shyness Back

Ao3 Link:

http://archiveofourown.org/works/11159997/chapters/24905436

This Has been cross-posted onto FF & Ao3 under Aliases: BearBooper

You can read this Fic on tumblr under ‘Keep Reading’

Next Chapter

Fandom: Hetalia Axis Powers

Main Pairing: Gilbert Beilschmidt & Matthew Williams (Prussia & Canada)

AU:  College AU - Art Student Matthew and Media/Film Student Gilbert

Age Rating/Mature:  Teen And Up Audiences (12+ due to mentions of mature themes as well as swearing)

Trigger Warnings: None in this chapter (Future addiction to mention themes such as addiction, rape etc.)

Summary: 

Matthew likes art. It gives him expression when his quiet voice gets lost in the seas of attention-hungry students at Himaruya Academy. Art seems safe yet teetering just on the edge of questionable and provocative at times. In a way that could summarise his experience with Gilbert: Enough danger and uncertainty to keep his social life turning without feeling the discomfort. He likes art...He also really...really likes Gilbert. 

Gilbert is - to be honest - a self-proclaimed media genius (He's not wrong, he is pretty damn good at the course), He likes to create discussion and create thought-provoking pieces of music and film. At the same time, while he may have built his legacy in Media he has yet to build a sense of legacy and certainty with himself. Cue the smoking, drinking and late night 'rendezvous' and indulgent one night stands...it's the high point of college right. That was a while ago now. It’s already a year into the semester and Gil needs to start saving money instead of partying. He's not lost- not fearful? Why does he not feel lost anymore when there's that blonde birdie looking his way?

I do not own any of the characters, they all belong to the Show/Manga/Hell that is Hetalia and the creator/Hima-Papa Himaruya Hidekaz Himself. 

Matthew was soft-spoken, which in hindsight he realised was attributed due to his, let’s be frank, terrible childhood of growing up with his loud and boisterous brother. Don’t get him wrong, sometimes being soft spoken had its benefits- like that time he got to skip out of doing public speaking…or that time his father gave him a pass after a problematic day at school…

This was not one of those times.

 If the Canadian could describe himself it would be ‘appropriately passive’, someone not prone to anger unless he was provoked to a boundary which only certain people correction: incredibly and insanely idiotic people, have crossed (Alfred learnt his lesson after the case of the missing art supplies…). On any other typical evening at the bustling university dorm - a Friday night that all students of Himaruya Academy were yearning for - the strawberry blonde would roll his eyes as he heard the booming blasting music from the dorm adjacent to his, but with an art piece already way behind and his paint pot PHYSICALLY edging itself off his desk due to the vibrations, Matthew knew it was time to finally get over his quiet nature and shut down whatever the fuck his dorm neighbour thought was music.

‘Maple- This is getting out of hand- come on Mattie just go over and give the hoser a good shout…it’s like that time with Alfred and his damned pranks’,  

Still dressed in his old white shirt covered in splotches of green and red acrylic, spare jeans and tousled hair, the Canadian padded his way out of the room preparing himself to attempt a confrontation with his unknown neighbour. ‘Wait- I don’t even know who lives next door? Is this really a good-‘

His knuckles seemed to go in autopilot as he realised he had already knocked on the door. Suddenly the music spilt out of the already overfilled container of a dorm and filled the hallway with loud blaring drums of some generic rock song. A head had poked out and was currently staring down Matthew as if the artist was the one doing something rude. He gulped, anxiously as he looked to face the head which had appeared…never one to be good with confrontations his original angry tone he planned to use came out meeker than he wanted:

“H-Hey could you have some respect and s-switch off your trashy music, some of us are t-trying to work….?”

As usual his plan had failed, this was clearly evident with the stuttering and the last few words, which were meant to be a verbal jab, turned into an awkwardly poised question. Trying to regain control over himself, Matthew watched as the head retreated into the room, music promptly turned off, and quite surprisingly the door opening with the resident grinning wildly in return. It was the blonde’s turn to stare the man in front of him down, the bright ruby eyes pierced through his thoughts, the light grey- seemingly white- silver streaks of hair and what must have been the lightest skin he had ever seen (‘I wonder if he would make a good canvas for my next paint-Mattie Back to task!’) made the glasses-clad boy look in awe.

‘He’s so pretty...’ oh jeez…w-what-why am I here again??’

“Uh hello? Ah Kid you okay there?” a heavily accented voice dragged Matthew out of his little-infatuated daydream. Matthew gulped. What was he getting into?

 Gilbert Beilschmidt was not a soft-spoken guy. Granted that could be attributed to his position of an older brother; the one to get into squabbles and fights to protect the honour of his sibling (Not that Ludwig ever really appreciated it). It wasn’t uncommon to get various noise complaints from the students who occupied the rooms around him, however, the shy-looking captivating character in front of him was a new sight to see. ‘Scheiße he’s cute, verdammt….’ He tilted his head and flashed a trademark snarky smile as he questioned the boy who also seemed to be lost in a daze. Slowly but surely opening up the door to his sanctuary, without words he invited the unknown person in – ‘this is probably not a good idea to invite strangers in…. but this kid…he’s so cute he couldn’t hurt…..a fly…’

As the kid shuffled into Gilbert’s poster-covered room, Gilbert couldn’t help but continue watching the blonde’s small fidgets and expression: First a hand twitch as if to say ‘n-no I’m okay’ then acceptance and a preoccupied sense of unsure thoughts then a fluster of blinking violet depths accompanying a sudden wave of...wonder? The new person was busy admiring his décor with an enchanted glare,

“Whoa…so beautiful….” He heard the student said quietly

“Why thank you, I do look my best when there’s good company” The self-proclaimed Prussian was prone to spilling automatic pickup lines from his lips, though it was strange because he had started blushing after realising what he had said.

Gilbert Doesn’t Blush. Not Usually.  

There was a dramatic and quick change in the air as the visitor whipped around and scoffed out, “E-excuse me?”

Gilbert’s eyes widened and he spluttered out an apology as he realised he just tried to flirt with a random guy who had only just met him.

“A-ah sorry- I’m Gilbert, Nice to meet you, sorry about the noise-“ he reached out his hand and felt a bit of hurt as the boy looked at the gesture with caution and had jumped back,

“German.”

It was Gilbert’s turn to look confused and scoff.

“Excuse me?”

Matthew’s cheeks grew bright red as he looked down to the floor which was suddenly very interesting,

“Sorry eh, Y-your accent…it’s German, You’re Ger-“

“Prussian. I’m Prussian. Judging from your ‘eh’ you’re Canadian, wait do you have something against Germans?”  

“NO NO oh my god no-I-I... Just...I didn’t- ….”

Matthew paused, it was embarrassing to admit what he said next,

“I... I like accents.”

Matthew was filled with horror at how he must have sounded. He definitely wasn’t racist towards Germans…he just…. really liked accents. It was a quirk he enjoyed strangely, a guilty admission of a detail Matthew loved. The room resident, now known to Matthew as Gilbert, halted for a moment inquisitively, before bursting into a laugh that nearly replicated his brother if it wasn’t accented – ‘Although this one feels…nicer to hear than Alfred’s..’ Finally, really paying attention to the skinny man Matthew noted the lopsided creased ‘Kings of Leon’ shirt (A band Matthew actually enjoyed!) and the low riding jeans that hung dangerously on the pale hips. Blushing and feeling more out of place than usual, the artist let out a tiny huff of discomfort.

“My name’s Matthew Williams…Technically William-Jones but. I prefer-I mean- just Williams is better.” Out came the scattered words from the red cheeks,

“As in William-Jones like Alfred William-Jones?” ‘Typical. Of course, this hot handsome interesting guy knew his brother. ‘Game over, no point attempting to be friendly now- ‘

“Mattie? Hey? You’re zoning out again, you alright ja?” a hand had reached up to Matthew’s fringe,

His deeper thoughts subsided as he responded to Gilbert who was now closer and looming over him; almost touching his messy hair. With a small ‘eep’ Matthew shrunk at the student’s proximity and lack of boundaries. The silence was deafening when you realised all that could be heard was the rather sped up breathing of two college idiots gawking at each other, needless to say, he flurry of confusion, uncertainty and perplexity were tangible between the bated breathes. Everything they ever knew about connecting with someone seemed to click into place and while they both weren’t aware that they were on the same page, they both thought the same thing at that very moment:

Fuck. He’s my Type.

[that1nkyone]

1nky liveblogs The Suffering Game: Chapter 4

okay let’s dive back in. This is getting wacky.

... So the Liches are powered by the suffering of others. I think that must be where the Animus Bell comes in.

oh boy they haven’t played for a while. That’s fair, they’ve been having baby times!

“This is not your Daddy’s Wonderwall.”

oh that’s right they’re at the wheel room. What’re they gonna sacrifice?

So they get a penalty if they refuse? And oh boy someone’s going twice.

MERLE’S GOING TWICE OH NO

oh no what

he got eye again?

oh shit is he gonna go blind?

OH NO HE’S GONNA LOSE AN EYE.

at least he gets a sick looking eye patch.

“Do I have a third eye?” “No, but you do have a third nipple.”

Theeere goes his depth perception.

Eyy, he gets the sick eye patch.

“You’ll be a lot more pleasant to look at!” “And to draw.”

So he gains disadvantage on ranged, and advantage on intimidation - I dig it!

Magnus is next - and he got ‘Clock.’

oh no he’s

he’s sacrificing ten years of his life

uhhh

holy shit

He’s aged ten years. I mean, he doesn’t really care. 

MAGNUS HAS GONE SILVER. HE’S HEADING INTO SILVER FOX TERRITORY, AHAHA

“My pubes go totally grey.”

Griffin: That’s no good.

Clint: Trust me, it’s not.

C L INT

“I’M DEAD AND IN HELL”

Taako got... “Body?”

Take away his vitality??? HE’S ALREADY SORTA BLEEDING OUT

holy shit, 15 subtracted from his max HP

“Worst case scenario, Taako dies and I get my Tuesday afternoons back.” /snorts

oh gosh dang, they’ve gotta do another spin, that’s right.

“Magnus, you feel something.” “It’s incontinence.”

... what’s this deal with his hand?

Something’s tracing stuff in his hand?

“I’m practicing mindfulness here in my 40s” pfft

Oooh, music. 

... and it’s Thieves’ language?

“Silence” and “Confirm”

Who is this invisible friend?

“Secret.”

“One Room,” “Magic Forces,” “Room,” “Transformation.”

Hmm...

“Wait for signal,” “Confirm.”

... Huh.

Well, that happened.

“Chance” for Merle, huh?

Sacrifice anything that equivalents to the sacrifices this round??

t-that is a lot. that is a decent amount of sacrifice

HE’S GONNA SACRIFICE THE EXTREME TEEN BIBLE?

okay no, he won’t

The Adamant Spanner, huh? I mean yeah, it’s the only thing that’s consistently worked in the past, yeah.

You can sacrifice memories? 

HIS WEDDING RING??? 

“YOU CAN’T GIVE UP BAD EMOTIONS”

“YOU’RE TURNING THIS INTO HIS FUCKIN’ OPRAH SPECIAL”

god damn it he’s gonna be a super deadbeat

DON’T GIVE UP YOUR WOODEN ARM

Adamant Spanner, his wedding ring, and his battleaxe.

He doesn’t even have a battleaxe oh my god

HE WILL GIVE UP HIS BATTLEAXE PROFICIENCY AND HIS WEDDING RING

CLINT STOP

aaaaand is it enough?

... oh, a flashback on Merle’s part?

A bear attack on the Pan enclave?

A woodsman trained him with the battleaxe

oh

oh no he forgot

he forgot about the

what

he forgot about how he got the proficiency to begin with

h o ly  sh it

“Griffin, I hate this arc.”

I’M VERY AFRAID OF IT, TOO.

And time for ads!

Aaand the door opens, and the suffering continues.

“So that was what happened to the Director, huh?”

“I’m gonna tie (Cam) to my shoulder like Zaphod Beeblebrox.”

Magnus is communicating with the invisible friend - aaand nobody notices, nobody saw shit.

“This next challenge is gonna be a breeze, I promise.” I DON’T TRUST THIS

oh, funny that - it’s another round of Trust or Forsake

“I cast Mage Hand and press ‘Forsake.’”

Aw man, didn’t work. Well, they haven’t picked something yet.

They’ve passed out thirty prizes this year??

Rolling Insight. 19 + 4

They are lying through their teeth.

“I CAST ZONE OF TRUTH”

they’re otherwordly liches it’s not gonna work

Aaand, Taako’s chosen to make the choice of Trust or Forsake.

Of course he’s choosing Forsake.

Magnus is trying to be a good person. Poor, poor Magnus.

Oh boy - THE OTHER SIDE CHOSE TRUST

“Short episode this week!”

oh boy the other side is fuuuucked

“You don’t understand how tough these challenges are” TAAKO IS ALMOST DEAD, CAM

Aaand, they’re moving on to the next chamber.

“START,” huh? What’re they walking into?

... is this literally a board game?

are they in a board game?

THEY ARE!!

The floor below is a bubbling green liquid, and the ceiling is covered in bats.

ohhhh boy

“This shouldn’t have manifested!” ... HMM.

Okay, now they’re on podiums.

... a-and applause?

They’re on the set of a game show?

A DATING SHOW???

CALLED HEART ATTACK?

Where the hell did the audience come from?

Okay, the elves are named now! Lydia and Edward.

YEAH A BIG NO FROM MAGNUS FOR THE DATING GAME. god damn

“The black smog raises to the ceiling and disappears. A portion of it changes its path and is siphoned off somewhere else.”

... huh.

A sheet of fabric - with a light behind it. 

A mannequin?

oh god like the Home Alone scene?

“It’s waving at you all flirty-like.”

Magnus?

“I don’t wanna play.”

oh shit. He’s refusing to play. And his negative smog is being siphoned off, somewhere.

The invisible friend speaks again. - okay he changed his mind.

Ideal date for Magnus?

“I pick them up at sundown, and we catch fireflies, and I take them home - and we don’t see each other again because I’m not interested.”

if the first part of that is how he spent time with Julia I’m gonna sob

Time for Merle!

“I let her pick me up.”

god damn it merle

“We drive through the vehicle wash, and she pays for that, too.”

“She meets my ex-wife.”

“She’s mad at me.”

“And then she slams the door in my face.”

what a beautiful first date.

Time for Taako! 

Does he prioritise dating or fans?

Of course, his fans come first.

“I HAVE FANS??” OF COURSE YOU DO, MAGNUS.

The audience is booing him.

“Since I was with my date first, I would take priority.”

The silhouette is fanning itself, now.

Magnus is still weirded out, but his competitive streak is taking over.

Why shouldn’t the mannequin pick Magnus or Taako, Merle?

“He would not be a gentle lover.” 

“I regret this entire podcast.”

Merle’s making a good point. XD

“I’m Taako. From TV???”

He’s casting something on the silhouette...

oh my god he’s gonna make the silhouette laugh

ITS HEAD POPS OFF

IT’S LAUGHING AT ITS BEHEADING

THE AUDIENCE IS LAUGHING

THIS IS FUCKED UP

“Magnus is suitably horrified.” ME TOO

THE LIGHTS ARE DIMMING.

“What makes a good hero?” asks the Elves. An interesting question, directed at him.

He casts “Truth Seeing.”

Seeing things as they actually are

o-oh

He can see the audience

it’s a bunch of faceless marionettes. That’s... really unnerving.

Taako says that he’s done playing. oh shit

Aaand the black smog comes out.

Back in Magnus’ perspective ... the two elves - they don’t look like elves

Both wearing black robes - and you can’t see their faces. y ep they’re Liches, alright - 

- AND THE RED ROBE??? THE RED ROBE’S THERE, TOO??

HE’S SIPHONING OFF THE BLACK CLOUD??

NOBODY ELSE CAN SEE HIM??

Magnus what’re you gonna do

holy shit

[fandammit]

Wonderwall (1/4)

[AU: We were high school rivals. Now it’s our 20 year reunion and I think you’re absurdly good looking and very charming. Shoutout to @shefollowedfires for her beta skills.]

on Ao3

Abby looked around the room, her eyes scanning the crowd of late 30 somethings gathered at tables and crowded at the bar. The last few bars of a Gin Blossoms song faded out, quickly replaced by the opening notes of Alanis Morissette’s “Ironic.” The corners of her mouth tugged up slightly.

“See?” Callie said, smiling at Abby over the rim of her wine glass. “You’re having fun already.”

She raised her eyebrow.

“This song makes me feel nostalgic. I wouldn’t exactly call that having fun.”

“C’mon, Abby,” Callie said, nudging Abby with her shoulder, “there are cheap drinks, good music and you’re in great company.” She smiled widely before she took a long sip of her drink. “Plus, this is the easiest place for you to break your streak.”

Abby sighed.

“Not this again.”

Callie set down her drink.

“Abby, you've been in this self-imposed celibacy for three years. It's time. Consider this your opportunity put yourself back out there.”

Abby shook her head as she gestured to the throng of people around the room.

“How is this the place to jump back in? Everyone was basically married at the ten year reunion.”

Callie huffed in disbelief.

“Yeah, and now it's been ten more years. I can basically guarantee you that more than half of those people are divorced.” She picked up her glass and took a drink before continuing. “Actually, I can guarantee it because I Facebook stalked everyone who rsvp’d yes to the Facebook invite.”

Abby laughed, then shrugged, not quite able to meet Callie’s eye.

“Maybe I don't mind what my life has been like for the past three years.”

“Maybe your life shouldn't be something that you ‘don't mind.’” Callie retorted. She paused, then softened her tone. “Plus, we used to be roommates.” She looked at Abby over her drink and smirked. “The amount of times and variety of places I've accidentally walked in on you suggests that celibacy is decidedly not for you.”

Abby chuckled at that, then picked up her drink and took a long sip. She set the glass down and was quiet for a long moment before she finally spoke.

“Maybe...Jake was just it for me.” She looked up at Callie. “I mean, I have Clarke and my job.”

“And me,” Callie interjected.

Abby smiled.

“And you,” she agreed. She picked up her drink and lifted it in Callie's direction before finishing the rest of it.“That’s a pretty damn good life.”

“It is, Abby,” Callie said with a nod. “I’m not saying that it's not.” She finished the last of her drink and nodded at the bartender for another round before leaning against the bar to face Abby. “And I'm definitely not saying you should be trawling this place for a husband or anything.” She shuddered. “In fact, I would definitely advise against it given what I found during my Facebook stalking.”

She grinned as Abby laughed. The bartender came by with fresh drinks for the both of them. Callie looked down and toyed with her glass for a long moment before looking up and meeting Abby’s gaze.

“I just worry about you lately.”

Abby’s features softened into a reassuring smile.

“I'm doing ok.”

“I know you are. You’ve been so strong these last few years,” Callie said. “I hate that you even had to go through it all, but you did and it's amazing.” She drummed her fingers on the tabletop. “You are the best person I know, Abby, and you've been such a great mom to Clarke these last three years.” She took a deep breath and sighed. “It's just - sometimes I worry that you aren't doing anything that's just for you. That's just to make you happy.”

She leveled a skeptical look at Callie.  

“And taking some guy we knew from twenty years ago home with me is gonna make me happy?”

Callie grinned.

“Well, it certainly couldn't hurt. You have been increasingly crabby lately. Releasing some of that stored up sexual tension might do the trick.”

She waggled her eyebrows suggestively as Abby chuckled and shook her head.

“Have I really been crabby lately?” She asked after a moment.

Callie shrugged.

“Yeah, a little bit. You did send back your tea three times last week at brunch.”

“The water wasn’t hot enough!” Abby said defensively.

Callie raised her eyebrow.

“At the last school board meeting, you went on a fifteen minute rant about the use of the word inclusiveness versus inclusivity.”

“It was - .”

“It was literally fifteen minutes, Abby,” Callie interjected, drawing out the word. “On the use of one word in a school newsletter. I timed you.”

Abby took a deep breath and huffed a small, embarrassed laugh.

“So maybe I’ve been wound a little tight lately,” she admitted.

Callie smiled.

“Admitting it is the first step.” She took a long sip of her drink. “It's been so long since you've let yourself enjoy...life. Your own life. Sometimes it seems like you're so busy taking care of your patients and Clarke and me, that you don't have the time to take care of you.”

Abby gave her a small smile.

“It does take a lot of work to take care of you.”

Callie grinned at her.

“I complicate my life in purpose. I know you like to be needed.”

Abby laughed. Callie clinked their glasses together and they both took a long drink.   “Just, I don't know, you're here right?” Callie said, gesturing out across the crowded hotel ballroom with her glass in hand. “You're not sitting at home watching reruns of Grey’s Anatomy by yourself while Clarke’s away for the weekend. That's basically a small miracle in itself.” Abby exhaled pointedly at that, an indignant expression on her face that faded quickly into guilty acceptance. Callie grinned. “So, you know - drink, dance, flirt with the army of guys who wanted to sleep with you in high school. You deserve to have a good time, Abby.” She lifted her glass up and tilted it in Abby’s direction. “So, let’s go out and have a good time.”

Abby smiled and raised her own glass, tapping it against Callie’s before drinking down the remainder of her wine.

She set her glass down and squared her shoulders.

“Ok,” she said resolutely, “I’ll put myself out there. I’ll try and be fun tonight.”

She held up a finger in Callie’s direction.

“But I’m not going to take anyone home. Or going home with anyone.”

“Famous last words,” Callie said over the rim of her own glass, her eyes twinkling with amusement.

Abby knocked her shoulder into Callie.

“Not for me.”

Callie threw her head back and laughed. Abby gave her a wry grin.

“Well,” she hedged, “not since med school, at least.”

“Alright,” Callie said, a smile still plastered on her face, “but at least consider a passionate makeout in some darkened corner.”

Abby sighed good naturedly and looped her arm through Callie’s.

“If you can find me someone worth making out with here, I’ll consider it.”

Callie smiled widely at her, a determined glint in her eyes that made Abby want to take her words back. Before she could say anything else, the bartender arrived with two more drinks in tow. Callie grabbed them and handed one to Abby.

“I didn’t order another drink,” Abby said, though she took the proffered wine glass anyway.   

“I know,” Callie replied, then tapped her glass against Abby’s. After they’d both taken a long drink, she tugged Abby towards the direction of the dance floor. “C’mon, let’s mingle.” She grinned. “We need to find someone for you to make out with.”   

Nearly an hour and another full glass of wine later, and Abby had to admit that she was fully enjoying herself. She’d been nothing if not glad to leave high school, but she also couldn’t deny that high school had been a pretty damn enjoyable experience. She’d spent the past hour catching up with all the various groups she had been a part of during her time in college. Had reminisced with friends from Yearbook about terrible layouts and coffee fueled all nighters; laughed with former Debate club friends about arguments that no longer mattered; exchanged stories of generic, teenaged idiocy with people she’d spent hours in Student Government with.

All people who she’d slowly lost touch with in the grind of med school, the business of motherhood, and, finally, the sorrow filled years since Jake’s death.  

Midway through a conversation about their AP Literature teacher’s hellish weekly essays, she spotted Callie gesturing her over with all the subtlety of a toddler throwing a tantrum.

She excused herself politely from the conversation and walked quickly over to Callie.

“What's so urgent?”

“So. Someone just showed up and he aged extremely well.”

“Who?”

She pointed behind Abby.

“Marcus Kane.”

Callie looked at Abby’s expression and burst out laughing.

“Oh my god, even after all these years.”

“What?” Abby asked defensively.

“You still get that same look on your face when you hear his name.”

“What look?”

“The same look I imagine is on mine every time there’s a tomato somewhere on my food. Like you can’t possibly understand why anyone would think it’s a good idea; like you’re questioning why it even has to exist.”

“He’s just a ridiculous human being.

Callie shrugged, then took a long sip of her drink.

“He was. But to be fair, he didn’t come to the ten year, so we don’t really know what he ended up like.”

Abby shook her head, disbelieving.

“I can’t imagine he’d end up as anything other than a complete asshole.”

Callie tilted her head, considering Abby’s expression.

“You really didn’t like him.”

“What are you talking about? We really didn’t like each other.”

Callie made a humming sound in the back of her throat.

“What?” Abby said, surprised that Callie didn’t immediately agree. “He hated me from the moment I moved to the school.”

“I definitely think that’s true. I mean, he practically ran the school and then you come swanning in halfway through tenth grade and suddenly everyone’s flocking to you. Poor awkward, aloof Marcus, didn’t stand a chance next to pretty, perfect Abby.”  

She rolled her eyes.

“Stop it. It just wasn’t hard to be likable when you’re competing with Marcus Kane.”

Callie took another sip of her drink before setting it down on the table in front of her, drawing her finger along the edge of the glass.

“I mean, I agree that he did at first. But by our senior year...I don’t know.”

Abby raised her eyebrow.

“You don’t know what?”

Callie shrugged.

“Well, by the time our senior year rolled around, he always looked torn between wanting to argue with you and wanting to kiss you. Sometimes, he looked like he wanted to kiss you while he was arguing with you.”

Abby stared at her, a look of disbelief clearly lining her features.

“Are you serious? Don’t you remember the debate in AP Gov?”

Callie huffed a laugh.

“Abby, everyone remembers that debate in AP Gov. That debate is now probably part of the AP Gov syllabus. High school students are currently learning about that debate in their AP Gov classes.”  

“Exactly.”

Callie shook her head.

“Except that debate just proves my point.” She grinned at Abby’s confused look. “At the end of it, I wasn’t sure whether he was ready to throw you out of the class or throw you against a desk and start making out with you.”

Abby’s lips curdled into a grimace.

“I just started having a good time, Callie. Don’t make me nauseated.”

Callie laughed.

“I mean, be honest, Abby - it was a two way street. Remember he hated his last name because he was embarrassed that his mom taught at the school? And when you found that out you then you only called him by his last name. You weren’t exactly accommodating to him.”

Abby snorted.

“I didn’t need to be, everyone else was.”

“Abby.”

“What?”

“Pot, meet kettle.” She laughed at Abby’s affronted look. “You know, I think that’s part of the reason you hated him so much - you could never get him to do what you wanted the way you could with everyone else.”

“That's not true!”

“Abby, you once got Mrs. Allen to move the final because it was the same day as your debate competition.”

Abby spread her hands out in front of her and tilted her head.

“It worked out for everyone.”

Callie didn't say anything, though she still managed to give a distinct impression of rolling her eyes.

“Anyway, all this talk of Marcus Kane and you still haven’t even looked over to see what he looks like now.” She rolled her eyes good-naturedly at Abby’s stubborn look of refusal, then gestured directly behind her. “I promise you won’t regret it.”

Abby sighed heavily, then leaned back against the table and glanced casually behind her in the direction that Callie had pointed. She found him immediately, despite being able to only see his profile as he talked to someone across the table from him. But she could still recognize that rigid way he held himself, the fixed intensity of the stare she’d so often been on the other side of. He turned to greet someone that was standing off to the left of him, affording her a clear line of sight to his open face.

His hair had grown out, long and curled at the ends, a loose strand falling across his forehead in a way that was almost boyish. There was a thick beard covering half his face, trimmed enough to be groomed but still rougher than what she might’ve expected from him. She watched as he laughed, genuine and carefree in a way he’d never been when she knew him, and ran a hand down his beard. The movement was abruptly, inexplicably appealing to her; she shook her head, trying to clear it.

Suddenly, he looked past the figure standing before him and met her eyes from across the room. He looked taken aback, eyes wide with surprise; then, the corner of his mouth lifted in an uncertain half-smile and he raised a hand, his fingers twitching awkwardly as he waved to her.

She blinked rapidly, feeling her face heat up in response, and looked away without responding in kind.

“So I’m guessing you liked what you saw,” Callie said wryly.

Abby cleared her throat, brows furrowing, her eyes narrowing at Callie.

“Am I…” She trailed off and stared at her glass for a moment before meeting Callie’s eyes with a bewildered stare. “Am I that drunk?”

Callie grinned.

“You might be. But I can confirm that he is very, very hot, regardless.”

Abby huffed and shook her head again, trying to clear the fuzziness that came with drinking three glasses of wine.

“I was...not prepared for that.”

Callie laughed loudly.

“This night is going to be amazing.”