#one piece live action made specifically to make me emotional (it is a low bar)

[apple8ees]

ok. i really like this live action

[talkfastromance4]

Best Years

So since my laptop crashed this morning I can’t do a read more. But this is what I wrote for Best Years. Tried to find what it is about this song that haunts me, not sure if this is it but here it is.

Written in the same style as  Red Desert + Lonely Heart so the guy is not signified as someone specific. So it can be Ashton, Calum, Michael or Luke.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Enjoy

•••••

The first time she heard the song, she cried. The lyrics were specific and precise to her relationship, the highs and the lows but the verses held promise. A promise that was broken and now when she listens to the album she skips that song in particular. Every time.

She couldn’t listen to it, it brought back too many memories of her time with him. The way he always chose his friends over her. The way he disregarded her feelings. The way he always put her last and how he ignored her for a month before finally making a not so clean break.

She was a mess already but then she just got messier.

And then she met him, his eyes captivated her in a way no other man’s has before but that’s also what made her hesitate. Eyes are dangerous, they can tell you one thing while the soul behind those windows can have a completely different motive. She withdrew within herself when he began asking questions about the book she held in her hands, a new book from her favorite poet.

“Look, I know where this is going, but I just got out of a terrible relationship and I’m not looking for anything right now. Sorry,” she tells him lamely and he just smiles.

“Understood. How about a friend, then?” he asks, holding out his hand.

Something inside her urged her to put her hand in his and she did. An odd sense of warmth coursed through her and with that handshake came the first solid promise; friendship.

They became close. Texting on the regular and going for lunch or a walk through the park. Then she started to join him on dinners with his friends, or going to clubs. Drinking was dangerous because she became one of two things, flirty or very emotional and spilling all of her secrets.

She was falling down the latter tonight.

She told him about all of her relationships, how she spent so much time on guys that reminded her about the one prior. She confessed how she’s always felt second best because someone was always chosen over her. That’s how all her relationships ended. Someone better came along and she was left in the dust.

He listened with intent sadness, his heart aching for her as she spilled her heart out to him. Tears falling from her pretty eyes and he promised himself as he held and consoled her that he’d make up for all her tears.

She was a pit stop of happiness while others hopped on the train and rode off into the red desert sunset. He disagreed wholeheartedly and promised that he’ll always put her first. She questioned him because of all her oddities and her baggage she collapsed on him those many months ago at the bar.

“I’ve given you a million reasons to walk away,” she told him bluntly.

“I’m not going anywhere, sweetheart.”

The friendship continued to bloom and flourish as months went by. One wasn’t seen without the other. He told her of his secrets too. How his own past relationships left him haunted by distrust and hidden motives of using him for fame. Some were toxic, and others just left a stain on his heart.

A tight bond was formed and while she was listening to his album while cleaning one day, he came over to pick her up for lunch. When track seven came on and she skipped it, he thought it was odd but let it slide.

The next three times when he noticed she always skipped it he saw the pattern and wanted to know why she skipped that song every time. In each instance her actions hinted at a deeper meaning.

The second time while they were out in the pool with everyone else and it came on over the speakers, she asked someone to skip it. Her voice shook a little when she made up the excuse that the next song was more fitting for the feel of the day.

The third time was when he was driving her home after a night of drinking. She drank a little too much and he picked her up willingly to make sure she got home safe. Track number seven came on and her actions were so quick when she leaned forward and pressed the skip arrows. She huffed and fell back against the seat.

The fourth time was while they were drinking again at a house party. He had to carry her home because she couldn’t stand up and the song was playing on the sound system and she began to cry, begging him to change it.

“It’s all right, it’ll be off soon,” he assured and carried her to the car.

She was sniffling in her seat, drinking from the large water bottle he brought so she could drink it on the way home. Her sniffles pained him and he had to know the reason.

“Why don’t you like that song?” he knew better than to name it.

“Because it’s a lie,” she sniffled and wiped her tears from her cheeks. “It hurts my heart. Makes my heart cry. I won’t let it so I don’t listen to it.”

As another year goes by and their friendship moves up a level he can’t stop thinking about her as more than that. She’s on his mind from the time he wakes up to the time he goes to sleep. They have something special and he knows how fragile her precious heart is.

While they’re walking along the beach, their toes squishing in the sand as the waves wash over them he takes her hand in his. She smiles up at him and he knows this is his moment. He stops in his tracks and her body jerks from his sudden halt.

His other hand cups her cheek and he gives her a kiss, his lips telling her what he’s been feeling for all these months. He feels her hesitancy and that’s when he stops.

“I know you’re scared, and all the broken pieces keep people at bay but not me. I’m here, and I want you. I’ll give you the best years I have because you’ve given me yours since the day I met you.”

•••••

Copyright talkfastromance4 © All works is intellectual property of the author. All rights reserved. Any redistribution or reproduction or any part or all contents in any form is prohibited. You may not, without written expression and consent from the author, distribute works amongst other social media platforms

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[souvcniir]

*  bopping  along  to  rude  boy  by  rihanna  is  𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐙𝐎𝐍𝐀  ❝   𝐑𝐈𝐙𝐎   ❞  𝐆𝐈𝐋𝐁𝐄𝐑𝐓  ,  the  twenty  one  year  old  cis  woman  thrown  back  to  their   hospitality  management with  some  of  her   memories  .  voted  most  likely  to  star  in  their   own  reality  tv  show ,  rizo  was  known  for  being  flamboyant  &  loquacious ,  go  figures  you'd  always  find  them  giving  drunk  pep  talks  in  the  girls  bathroom ,  but  grew  up  to  be  punctual  &  hard  headed.  

hi  ..  how  ya  doing  ?  it’s  me  ...   again  .  gi  back  again  with  my  second  muse  who  is  just  ...  have  you  seen  her  ?  stunning  .  beautiful  .  the  mother  i  never  had   ,  the  sister  everybody  would  want   ,  and  the  friend  everybody  deserves  .  ASDFGHJ  .  let  me  stop  .  down  below  is  a  little  about  my  baby  doll  and if  you  already  liked  my  last  post  i’ll  definitely  be  bothering  you  about  plotting  with  this  baby  too  !!

*   𝐎𝐍𝐄                          𝐓𝐇𝐄   𝐀𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐒  .

gold   wings   dangling   in   between   collar   bones   ,   sun   light   parting   cloudy   skies   ,   vowels   dipped   in   honey   ,   baths   filled   with   rose   petals   ,    sketches   under   a   cotton   candy   sunset   . 

*   𝐓𝐖𝐎                          𝐓𝐇𝐄  𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐒 .

full   name.   arizona  scarlett  gilbert  .   nickname(s).   rizo  ,  ari  ,  zo  ,  zona  .   preferred   name.   rizo  and/or  ari  .   past  age.   twenty  one  .   present  age.   thirty  one  .   date  of  birth.   october  eleventh  .  zodiac.  libra  . gender. cis  woman  .   pronouns. she  and  her  .   sexuality. heterosexual  .   younger  faceclaim.   charlotte  d’alessio  .   older  faceclaim.   alycia  debnam  carey   .

*   𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄                          𝐓𝐇𝐄  𝐑𝐎𝐎𝐓𝐒  .

(   death  ,   specifically  cancer   ).  

    in  her  first  cry    ,     she  was  gifted  an  echo   .    something  said  to  be  a  miracle  especially  upon  ears  that  had  once  suffered  the  news  of  a  lost  future  of  bearing   children  .     that  night  ,  prayers  of  thank  you’s  were  sent  to  the  heavens    ,  and  mouths  were  stuff  with  love  sculpted  by  two  pairs  of  glimmering  emerald  hues   .   

    granted  fifteen  years  of  sweetness  and  happiness  that  painted  countenances  .    the  two  were  split  from  the  same  soul  .   her  sister  was  contagious  and  arizona  was  syrupy  .   never  each  other’s  shadow  ,  just  each  other’s  biggest  fan  .  the  girls  were  great  apart  ,  but  together  they  were  unstoppable  .  but  just  like  summer  sunshine  ,  rapid  thunderstorms  creep  up  on  you  without  warning  .  their  thunder  fell  into  their  ears  as  a  disease  too  far  along  to  promise  hope  .   in  the  blink  of  an  eye  ,  cancer  had  disguised  itself  as  her  twin  sister  ,   the  light  that  once  sparkled  in  her  eyes  died  out  .

    equivalent  to  a  nightmare  ,  when  the  sun  forgets  to  rise  and  feet  forgot  how  to  move  ;   she  was  haunted  by  a  ghost  who  had  her  face  .   swore  she  could  hear  her  in  the  dead  of  the  night  ,  and  sometimes  even  in  broad  daylight  .   grief  left  her  clinging  to  bedsheets  that  still  lingered  of  her  sister’s  memory  ,  and  soon  her  emerald  hues  became  a  reminder  of  a  child  lost  .   she  no  longer  had  her  sister  to  hide  behind  ,  and  her  parent’s  were  no  longer  able  to  pretend  they  could  look  her  in  the  eye  .

reminded  herself  she  was  alive  until  tears  hung  in  her  eyes  and  screams  left  her  mouth  until  voice  was  no  longer  recognizable    .  she  might  not  be  able  to  live  life  by  her  sister’s  side  ,  but  she  could  live  life  for  her  sister  .    that  night  ,  her  hands  were  drenched  in  cold  glue  from  gluing  herself  back  together  .  and  after  that  ,  cloudy  skies  cleared  and  only  the  lingering  smell  of  raindrops  remained  .  she’d  never  get  over  it  ,  but  she  would  not  become  it  .

*   𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐑                         𝐓𝐇𝐄   𝐏𝐀𝐒𝐓  .  

grief  no  longer   visible  in  tawny  features  ,   she   radiated  a  warmness  that  seemed  to  be  nothing  but  intoxicating  .   clung  to  a  desperation  to  escape  a  town  filled  with  broken  hearts  and  disappointment   and  took  a  big  deep  breath  of  a  new  beginning  at   rom  valley  university  .

she  was  a  face  you  spotted  everywhere  ,  on  the  sidelines  with  pom  poms  in  her  hands  and  in  class  whispering  about  how  she  had  no  idea  what  was  going  on   .   being  involved  was  something  she  thrived  on  ,   and  because  of  that  she  was  known  for  being  the  social  butterfly  ,   the  chatter  bug  ,  and  the  girl  who  always  had  a  smile  on  her  face  . 

 not  a  dumb  girl  ,  but  she  happened  to  be  one  of  those  people  who   prioritized  their  social  life  instead  of  their  grades  .  had  to  really  apply  herself  for  anything  above  a  low  b  ,   but  as  we  all  say  c’s  get  degree’s  .  and   truthfully  she  was  more  worried  enjoying  life  rather  then  having  a  break  down  over  a  calculus  class  .  

had  a  bad  habit  of  speaking  without  thinking  ,  and  feeling  without  processing  .  life  is  too  short  so  she  refuses  to  be   someone  who  keeps  her  emotions  bottled  up  .   instead   wears  them  in  facial  expressions  and  words  of  anger  or  joy  or  sadness  .  if  you  did  something  wrong  ,  she’ll  tell  you  .  if  she’s  feeling  a  type  of  way  ,  you’ll  know  .  but  because  of  this  she  is  very  forward  with  showing  those  she  cares  about  ,  she  cares  about  them  .  her  love  language  is  pecks  on  the  lips  and  i  love  you’s  before  she  ends  the  call  .   

*   𝐅𝐈𝐕𝐄                         𝐓𝐇𝐄   𝐂𝐔𝐑𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐓   .

not  as  open  as  she  used  to  be  ,  but  she  still  shines  bright  .   learned  to  bite  her  tongue  and  control  her  careless  ways  .  in  some  ways  ,  she  simply  just  matured  ,  no  longer  that  twenty  year  old  something  that  can  get  away  with  screaming  in  the  rain  because  she  needed  to  get  it  off  her  chest  .

thinks  about  her  sister  more  then  she  did  before  ,   her  mother  says  it’s  because  she’s  experiencing  firsts  that  she  wishes  her  sister  was  there  to  see  .  she  still  refuses  to  show  her  bleeding  wounds  ,  instead  bandages  them  up  every  night  and  whispers  i  miss  you’s  to  the  sky  .

fell  into  the  career  of  a  wedding  planner  and  has  never  been  so  in  love  with  a  job  before  ,  it’s  everything  she  had  ever  hoped  for  .  she  gets  to  be  creative  ,  interact  with  people  on  the  daily  ,  and  make  other’s  happy  .  though  ,  it  has  made  her  a  true  romantic  .

her  relationship  with  her  parents  is  special   , something  that  formed  as  she  got  older  and  began  to  understand  that  yes  she  lost  her  other  half  ,  but  they  too  lost  a  child  .   she’s  grateful  for  her  parents  and  is  constantly  reminding  herself  to  give  them  some  extra  love  .  at  the  end  of  the  day  ,  they  are  all  she  has  . 

she  lives  in  the  city  of  new  york  in  a  beautiful  apartment  ,  and  while  it  is  such  a  different  atmosphere  then  the  small  town  she  was  raised  in  ,  she  enjoys  it  .   but  her  being  her  ,  she  still  needs  to  experience  as  much  as  she  can  and  so  you’ll  her  packing  her  bags  every  so  often  and  living  it  up  in  a  different  country  or  a  different  city  for  a  few  weeks  and  of  course  dragging  a  few  of  her  friends  with  her  .

*   𝐒𝐈𝐗                         𝐓𝐇𝐄   𝐏𝐀𝐒𝐓  𝐈𝐍  𝐓𝐇𝐄   𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐓   .

it  feels  like  a  case  of  deja  vu   ,  so  familiar  she  has  to  stop  and  think  about  it  for  a  little  .   swears  she  see’s  pieces  of  her  future  in  her  dreams  ,  and  yet  they  feel  so  real  it’s  almost  as  if  she’s  already  lived  it  .  sometimes  she  feels  like  she’s  going  crazy  ,  but  most  time  she’s  losing  herself  in  the  moment  .  

*   𝐒𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍                          𝐓𝐇𝐄  𝐄𝐗𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐒  .

she  wears  her  sister’s  ashes  in  a  wing  shaped  necklace  ,   and  later  on  decided  to  get  something  permanent  via  tattoo  .   her  tattoo  is  located  on  her inner  arm   and  looks  a  little  something  like  this  . 

she’s  a  travel  bug  ,  and  has  been  to  countless  of  places  .  she’s  one  of  those  people  who  has  a  journal  tucked  away  with  every  single  place  she  has  ever  wanted  to  visit  and  she  will  complete  her  list  .

in  college  ,  she  was  one  of  those  people  who  wrote  the  prettiest  notes  that  you  have  ever  seen  ,  did  she  waste  more  time  writing  them  then  actually  studying  ?  yes  .

she  started  playing  soccer  in  elementary   school  and  actually  studied  at   rvu  on  a  scholarship  .  it  was  one  of  the  first  activities  that  arizona  did  outside  of  her  sister  and  after  her  passing  it  because  a  way  to  get  her  mind  off  of  her  passing  .

*  𝐄𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓                          𝐓𝐇𝐄   𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒  .

*   again  ,  these  are  simply  just  ideas  to  give  us  something  to  start  with  ,  i  am  open  to  anything  that  is  not  mentioned  as  well  am  completely  and  totally  okay  with  switching  things  around  and  adding  things  to  these  ideas !!!  i  love  plotting  and  bouncing ideas  off  of  each  other  so  don’t  be  afraid  to  stray !

                    LOOK  ,  WE’RE  IN  TUNE  ,  WE’RE  IN  SYNC   .  EYE  TO  EYE  ,  DON’T  NEED  TO  THINK  (  PAST/PRESENT  CONNECTION  ┋  OPEN   )  .     labeled  as  the  duo  to  be  reckoned  with  ,  there’s  love  between  these  two  that  not  even  words  could  explain  .    a  friendship  that  has  last  a  decade  ,  you  can  hear  them  constantly  giggle  how  they’re  soulmates   .    that’s  just  their  bond  .  secrets  ,  laughter  ,  memories  ,  communication  without  words  ,  a  lifetime  of  inside  jokes  ,  being  attached  at  the  hip   .   this  is  just  a  forever  thing  .

                  WE’RE  BOTH  DROWNING  IN  GASOLINE  ,  BURNING  OVER  TIME  .   (  PAST  CONNECTION  ┋  OPEN   )  .    this  friend  is  someone  that  arizona  held  close  to  her  heart  ,  when  memories  crept  back  up  on  her  and  that  empty  feeling  in  her  heart  escape  bars  she  seemed  to  always  find  comfort  in  this  person  .  and  always  promised  them  ,  that  they  could  find  comfort  or  at  least  a  set  of  ears  in  her  .

                  I  KNOW  YOU  SAID  LEAVE  ,  BUT  FUCK  WHAT  YOU  SAID  .  CAUSE  YOU’RE  STEADY  CRAWLING  ON  YOUR  KNEES  AGAIN  ,  YOU  NEED  A  FRIEND  (  PAST  CONNECTION  ┋  OPEN   )  .    this  was  someone  that  brought  the  worse  out  in  arizona  .   they  are  the  whispers  of  careless  actions  in  each  other  ears  and  blurry  lines  of  what  they  are  to  each  other  .  stolen  kisses  and  screaming  voices  the  consequence  of  that  .  but  regardless  of  where  they  stand  in  one  another’s  life  ,  they’re  the  prime  example  that  not  every  bond  should  last  .

                  SAME  CREW  ,  I  AIN’T  HANGING  WITH  NO  NEW  BITCH   (  PAST/PRESENT  CONNECTION  ┋  OPEN   )  .    a  group  of  friend  who’s  energy  is  contagious  .  in  college  they  were  the  ones  people  watched  from  afar  and  earned  for  something  just  like  it  .  they  had  their  fair  share  of  fallout’s  ,  nights  of  blacking  out  and  holding  each  other’s  hair  back  ,  hungover  brunches  ,  embarrassing  stories  during  each  other’s  weddings  ,   but  their  bond  is  for  life  .  

              I  MIGHT  BREAK  UP  WITH  YOU  ,  JUST  TO  MAKE  UP  WITH  YOU  .  AT  THE  END  OF  THE  DAY  ,  BOY  ,  YOU  KNOW  THAT  I’M  ABOUT  TO  WAKE  UP  WITH  YOU  .  (  PAST  CONNECTION  ┋  OPEN   )  .    the  most  serious  relationship  arizona  had  in  college  ,  and  it  was  mixed  with  such  high  and  low  moments  but  regardless  the  two  always  found  their  way  back  to  each  other  .    for  arizona  ,  she  was  in  love  and  they  were  all  she  wanted  .  no  matter  what  .

             MANY  TIMES  WE  FELT  IT  ,  CAME  CLOSE  FOR  A  MINUTE  .  WRONG  PLACE  ,  WRONG  TIME  ,  YOU  WERE  ALMOST  MINE  . (  PAST  CONNECTION  ┋  OPEN   )  .    it  always  felt  like  more  .   lingering  touches  and  avoiding  the  conversation  ,  almost  never  given  the  right  opportunity  to  say  how  they  really  felt  and  in  return  for  years  watched  one  another  fall  in  and  out  of  love  with  other  people  .

[faulty-writes]

I really like your prompt list and was wondering if I could request prompt 146: “You’re my light in a world of darkness.” With Tomura? Maybe nsfw, if your comfortable?

[Rquests: OPEN.] 

[Oh yes, I am comfortable with nsfw, weather it’s fem!nsfw or male!nsfw. As long as it’s within acceptable bounds. That being said, I kept it somewhat vague since there wasn’t a specific gender chosen for it. I love my boy Shiggy <3 Enjoy!] 

Even villains had their soft spots and Shigaraki Tomura was no exception. Behind the walls that took years for you to crumble, laid a man that was protective, passionate, and though a tad crazy, caring about your needs. This included in bed as well, which you were thankful for. Everything Tomura did was for your sake, he’d tear down anyone and anything that tried to hurt you and if he was being honest, he never thought you’d be the one he’d fall in love with.

But it happened and now he found himself being more grateful than ever, but at times Tomura would scare you. Not because he would threaten to hurt you, but the villain had self-destructive behavior. Like when a plan didn’t go his way and he would resort to scratching his neck to pieces, leaving bloody lines behind. You always hated that, of course, it hurt to see Tomura do that to himself and most would be disgusted.

But you would always clean him up, wrap those bandages around his neck and kiss them until Tomura calmed down again. This was much like one of those times, he was at an all-time low. The League of Villains funds were running low and that resulted in them barely scraping by. It frustrated him, this isn’t what he wanted especially not for you. He was sitting at the bar when you walked in and you nearly screamed when he reeled his fist back and slammed it against the counter.

“Tomura!” you cried out as you stumbled back, your heart racing. However, Tomura didn’t move from his seat. Instead, you heard a soft growl come from him and the sound of it made a shiver run down your spine. You took a deep breath, trying to calm yourself as you shyly approached the man. Your hands held out almost in defense. “Tomura …” you repeated, “Are you okay?” your question was only greeted by another growl before his arm came out and pulled you toward him.

You grunted as you found yourself pressed against his chest, though your cheeks dusted pink as you looked at him. Usually, at home, he didn’t wear those ridiculous hands which pleased you as you enjoyed seeing his face. Despite the wrinkles and scars, you found Tomura to be beautiful and he, in turn, felt the same about you. A diamond among the rough, the one thing he wanted to live for and protect. To keep and have a future with.

You heard him sigh before he looked at you, those red pupils seemed to carry some emotion. “The League is low on funds.” he began, “I’m beginning to contemplate another murder to get money, but that’s getting old.” you swallowed, you knew he killed people but still. You loved Tomura, he did what was best for those he cared about. For the group, he had started from the ground up.

“Little pet, what am I going to do?” he questioned as he brushed the side of your cheek with two fingers, lately he had been wearing those special gloves. Part of you hated them thinking that Tomura didn’t trust his quirk enough around you but another part of you found them to be an interesting addition to his attire. You took a breath, reaching up to grab his fingers delicately. Pulling them back, you placed a kiss to each one separately.

Something that made Tomura shiver. “Baby,” you said, “I know you’ll figure something out. You always do and I’ll always be here to support you.” that’s what you would always say, believing that it would bring Tomura comfort. After all, he was a man with a lot on his shoulders and if you could ease his stress somehow, you would. “Mm, do you?” he replied before leaning down to steal a kiss.

You smiled and wrapped your arms around his neck, moaning quietly as you returned the kiss. His hot muscle came out, brushing against your lips before forcing them open. You shivered as your tongues danced but often more than not, Tomura sought out to dominate you and that’s exactly what he did. No matter what, he always had to be on top. It was his mindset and if you were being honest, you loved it.

You panted as he pulled away and he smirked, reaching out to wipe your bottom lip. He then pressed his forehead against yours, his long hair tickling your cheeks. “My pet …” he said in a soft whisper before smirking, his eyes lighting up and you knew exactly what he was planning next. He reached down, interlocking your fingers, and practically dragged you down the hallway and to his bedroom.

Once inside, he practically threw you onto the bed. Reaching down, he pulled his shirt over his head and his eyes narrowed on you. “Strip,” he said, that impatient growl in his voice indicated a warning. You better do as he said or punishment would follow. You quickly stripped yourself of your clothing and felt the bed drip, moments later Tomura was hovering over you. That same smirk on his face and a hungry glance in his eye.

You gasped as he leaned forward, kissing your neck sweetly. He then moved down to your chest, his lips working everywhere and his tongue came out to tease your nipples. Circling each one and giving it a quick suckle which had you moaning for more. But he ignored your cries and continued until he reached what he wanted. It was almost paralyzing, feeling the way his tongue worked to prepare you.

Lapping at you hungrily, trying to soften your entrance up enough for him to stick his tongue inside. You threw your head back, moaning as he thrust that hot muscle in and out. You clenched desperately around him, soft whimpers leaving your mouth. “Mm, my little pet wants me that bad huh?” he chuckled, the sound making you tremble before you nodded. “Please Tomura …” you said, and he took pride watching that lustful, desperate expression come to your face.

He leaned back, licking his lips of your essence. “Alright, pet. I’ll give you what you want.” another chuckle escaped him as he reached down, stroking his hard cock. The tip dripped with a thin line of precum and he carefully situated himself between your legs. Propping your feet on each shoulder before he lined himself up with your tight entrance and slowly pushed. You gasped as you felt him enter you, your walls clenching around his length.

Tomura hissed before snapping his hips forward causing you to scream out as he buried himself deep inside you. He panted, “So tight, maybe I should fuck you more often.” he swallowed before his arms extended out, resting right above your shoulders. His hands were curled into fists which sank into the soft mattress underneath you. In turn, you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him down for another kiss.

His hips began moving, thrusting himself in and out which caused you to moan into the kiss. “Tomura …” you whimpered as you pulled away from the kiss, a trail of saliva connecting your lips but Tomura didn’t seem to mind. In fact, he smiled and worked his hips faster. The bed moving and shaking underneath his actions. “Pet …” he said before leaning close, you looked into his eyes as he pressed his lips to yours again. 

You could feel him moan into your mouth and your nails dug into his back, though you knew you had to be careful. You didn’t want to give him any more scars, you gasped for air as he pulled away and brought one of his hands to your cheek, stroking it with his thumb. “You’re my light in a world of darkness,” he whispered and you nearly got choked up. “T-Tomura-ahh!” you clenched your jaw as his thrusts grew violent.

“Don't change pet, you’re mine and you always will be. Don’t you ever leave me. Understand!?” he snapped, his thrusts still violent as he pounded into you. The sound of your flesh slapping together echoed through the room. “Yes! Yes, Tomura! I won’t leave you, never I ...I love you.” you replied and he smiled before kissing you once more. “I love you too,” he whispered before emptying his seed inside of you, eventually he’d provide you with everything you deserved.

[spirit-of-the-void]

Ebony and Ivory (V x Reader Fanfic) Chapter Two

Author’s Notes: Holy crap, you guys are so kind! Im glad you all are enjoying this story so far! Just be warned, I’m kind of changing the timeline to days instead of hours in this. So they have time to rest and do shit. Its important to the plot ;)

Chapter 2

Upon entering the van, you realized right away that it was in fact a mobile home of sorts. On one end rested a leather couch, the area sized to be a small living space. It smelled of cigarettes and metal, yet also with a slight hint of something unmistakably feminine. A perfume or something. It felt cozy, albeit a bit messy. At that moment it was also pretty cramped. Nero moved to the front to sit by Nico while they discussed their course of action, V taking up a chair behind the driver's seat at a small table. His bird found its perch on an old jukebox off to the side, still looking pretty ruffled from his argument earlier. Did the bird and cat have names? You wanted to ask, but mister pretty boy goth was engaged in speaking to the other two about their plan of attack.

The panther settled down near V’s feet, still close enough to touch. You stared back at their piercing red eyes with silent longing. It looked so soft, and you were going stir crazy while waiting for the others to remember you were there. Gathering your courage and accepting the loss of an appendage, you slid to the floor and sat cross-legged, watching the creature’s pelt ripple warily now that you were closer. Upon further inspection, you realized the cat was a dark blue as well, although much more subtle. It growled lightly at you, ears flicking when kept looking at it hesitantly.  

V was still talking to Nero, discussing the Qlipoth roots they had to destroy. You already had the gist of what needed to be done, so you didn’t really have to listen in. You had always been easily distracted—how you had survived this long with a success rate that high you would never begin to understand. You came here to fix a problem and instead you were trying to win over a big cat, one that looked ready to bite you. You wouldn’t say you were stupid per se, but impulse control was definitely not at the top of your list of skills. Your emotions and desires often got the better of you, that was something very apparent even when you were just a human.

While the others continued to talk, you quietly summoned your Void power, murmuring a quiet incantation as you centered the ability on your palm.  

“From the Void into being.”

From that point energy glowed and weaved, creating the organic object you imagined. One of your many abilities, it was meant to be used when you had zero access to food. With the power you had, you could create something from the nothingness of the Void. That something usually just organic material like meats, fruits. If you absorbed something from a world you could easily replicate it. After going to so many worlds there were hundreds of things you could make, though the energy it took to do that depending on the item was too taxing. And it was only organic materials. Only medicines made from organic plants, only food and things of that nature. And here you were, expending energy to create fresh, raw red meat for this panther.  

Responsible, thy name is Y/N.

After you were finished, it occurred to you that the three had gone quiet. You blinked, and turned to see all of them staring at you. V looking curious and lightly bemused, the other two outright shocked.

“...Uh.” You cleared your throat, “Yeah?”

“Holy shit,” Nico whistled lightly, looking pretty excited all things considered, “How the hell did ya do that...?!”

You looked at the meat in your palm—it was even cold to the touch. Fresh, real and just as real as meat cut from an actual cow. You supposed it would be really fucking strange to people who didn’t have such an ability.

“It’s one of my skills,” You replied, holding out a piece of meat for Nero to take, “Here, touch it. It's real raw meat. I mean, I wouldn’t suggest eating it raw but...You could cook it if you had the time.”

Nero pinched the scrap between his fingers, bringing it up to his nose to sniff. You found yourself smiling at his reaction, patiently waiting as he and Nico both mulled over the meat like it was the most fascinating thing they’d seen all day. You remember being that entranced the first time you tried it, you still remembered the first item you ever made—A chocolate bar. You could still make one now if you wanted, but wasting energy was a bad idea and your dumb ass had already expended some.

“How does it work?” Nero finally questioned, handing the meat back to you and wiping a hand on his jacket.  

You fought a laugh, offering back a rueful smile, “I don’t know the specifics myself. I just know if I absorb an organic material, I can take it and remake it as many times as I want from my energy.”

He made an impressed expression, leaning on the inside door of the van, “That’s pretty damn neat.”

Before you could reply, you hear Nico let out a low hum, one full of mischief.

“Ohhh damn there, Nero. You already warming up to the new girl? Do I need to tell Kyrie?” She tsked, shaking her head as if filled with disappointment.

“Knock it off, Nico,” Nero frowned, crossing his arms over his chest and protesting indignantly, “Are you gonna say that any time I’m friendly to girls?”

“You ain’t friendly to me, pretty boy.”

“Give me somethin’ to be friendly about, you maniac.”

“Who’s Kyrie?” You interjected quickly, trying to diffuse a rising argument peeking over the horizon. And by peeking you meant inches from exploding in this small space you all were in. The pair looked at you when you questioned, and you instantly noticed Nero’s expression soften a little, just a slight difference compared to his cocky expressions you were growing to accept as normal. Clearly this person was special to him, no doubting that.

“Kyrie is his fiancé,” Nico answered for him, jabbing Nero lightly in the shoulder, “Focus, lover boy. She takes care of some kids at an orphanage in Fortuna. A total sweetheart—how she ended up with this punk none of us know.”  

She jabbed a thumb at Nero again, making him huff and release a little peeved “Hey!”

So, he wasn’t a twink?! This revelation both made sense and was vaguely disappointing. Was there a straight equivalent to a twink?

Regardless, you did have a task in mind when you summoned the meat. It occurred to you that V had said nothing during this entire exchange, and you glanced over to see him with a book opened in his hand, eyes scanning the page. Completely indifferent it would seem, which was pretty disappointing. If you were going to lose a hand to his pet cat, you at least wanted him to watch it happen, damn it. Still, you turned to look at the creature while Nero and Nico started to bicker a little bit again, completely distracted—you preferred it that way.

The cat looked at you again, nose twitching as you gingerly held out a piece of meat. A quick glance at the bird confirmed he was watching you like you were out of your god damn mind. That was pretty pleasing if you had to say so. You glanced at V again, and if you weren’t mistaken you thought he took a quick glance at you before delving back into his book.

You took in his appearance for a second--he was definitely an odd one. Long black pants, black sandals, black everything. Yet he carried himself with the energy of an old century poet longing for some lost love. Other than the fact that these two demons worked for him, he seemed pretty normal. The concept of familiars was not lost on you, many places you had seen touched on such things. Witches and warlocks often kept demons as companions and helpers, but you didn’t know if those things existed in this place.

Either way, you didn’t want to bother the goth in his musing. You instead turned to look at the bird on the jukebox, holding some meat out to him too.

“Hey, mister bird,” You quipped, “Do you and the cat have names?”

He looked surprised to be addressed by you again, and even more surprised that you seemed to be offering him food. You saw a gleam of interest in his eyes, but his feathers ruffled, stubborn and prideful as he tilted his head up.

“What’s it to you, princess?” He sneered lightly, clawed feet tapping on the glass top of the jukebox, “And no offense, I don’t wanna eat your weird magic meat!”

You sighed. That nickname again.  

“My name is Y/N,” You frowned in disappointment, “Come on I’m trying to be friendly here.”

He cackled a little, shaking out his tail feathers as the panther sniffed the air, still too wary to walk forward and take any food. You glanced at V again, expecting him to still be reading. You were instead startled when you found his dark green eyes meeting yours, a wry smile tilting his lips as you were caught in your expedition to win over his pet cat. If he was watching he might as well help you at the very least. Though you had to take pause—it had been a while since you found yourself dazed after staring at someone’s face. The guy definitely had the looks to make up for his bad fashion sense.

“Do they have names?” You asked him instead, since the bird was not cooperating at all.  

He closed his book with one hand, the soft thud very satisfying to hear.  

“They do,” He replied simply, much to the bird’s obvious annoyance, “The one you’re very determined to feed is Shadow. And the one you called ‘ten piece’ is Griffon.”

“V!” The bird, now dubbed Griffon, squawked indignantly.

He simply tilted his head, giving him an unapologetic look from underneath some long lashes. Boy, he had a smolder going on. It seemed like V was very passive and confident. His mannerisms were very strange, quiet yet carrying a sense of purpose and energy. You found yourself very fascinated in him—he was fairly mysterious to you. And you liked a good mystery. He also seemed fine with you trying to bribe his pet demons, which was always a plus in your book.

You looked at Shadow, holding out a piece of meat again as the cat twitched its nose at you.

“Come on, Shadow,” You said softly, desperately trying not to use the soft baby voice you generally used for cats. This was a demon and you were sure it was smarter than the average house cat and you didn’t want to insult it, “I swear it’s normal meat. I just wanna be friends.”

You heard Griffon snort loudly, head tilted toward you as he said mockingly, “How could you insult me at first chance but wanna be friends with the overgrown house cat?!”  

Oh jeez, he almost sounded offended. Griffon seemed pretty complicated—you had no doubts he hid behind a wall of insults and jibes to hide loneliness. You had seen it before.

“Don’t call me ‘princess’ and I won't call you ‘ten piece’,” You said with a genuine smile, offering some meat to him again while you felt V’s gaze burning into you from your right side, “Deal?”

He paused, and you swore you could hear the wheels in his head turning. You were a pretty patient person, and you could tell he was battling between pride and a million other things in that moment. You thought you heard a low chuckle from their goth master, your gaze briefly landing on him—he was leaning his head on one hand leisurely, watching to see how your little quest played out. Nico and Nero were arguing about Nero paying for his metal arms, but you couldn’t be bothered with that at that moment.

Suddenly you heard the scrape of claws, beak swooping down to quickly snatch the meat from your left hand. You smiled, incredibly pleased as you watched Griffon quickly slurp down the food you had produced as he took up his perch again. Then from your right you felt the brief brush of soft fur on your palm, a low growl sounding from Shadow as they too snatched some meat and slinked back away from you, curling around V’s legs as they chewed. You cheered internally, wiping your hands as you released a slow breath. You were easy to please it would seem—and pleased you were.

You heard V chuckle again, the man sitting forward and resting his hands on his cane as he grinned at you, eyebrow raised.

“Well now,” he remarked, tone so low and smooth it could have put you to sleep, “Don’t you look as smug as a peacock.”

You shrugged, leaning back against the couch and drawing your knees up to your chest, “It’s the little victories.”

“Oh?” He hummed in reply, fingers tapping on that cane, “An optimist are you?”

You snorted, “Maybe. I just find being happy about every little thing makes life a lot better.”

Before V could reply, Nico sat down behind you, her feet brushing against your side as she lit up what appeared to be a cigarette. You tilted her head back to look at her, wincing a little when you were met with a cloud of tobacco smoke. The sudden urge to stand and leave was pretty overwhelming, smoking was definitely not your favorite thing, as much as you liked Nico as a person. You saw V mimic your discomfort, waving a hand through the smoke to clear it away from his face.

“So, uh, Y/N,” Nico commented, blowing another cloud of smoke as she addressed you, “What other kind of funky shit can you do?”

You couldn’t really tell her your range of abilities. Not then at least, maybe later when you knew who was worth trusting. You had your limits like most creatures, but you drew energy from a strange and mysterious source—technically there was a lot you could do, but your body had limits. The power of the Void was heavy and chaotic, deeply hard to wield and a heavy burden at times. Too much at once could damage you, and you had an amount of energy you could use before you started to overextend. You’d be useless if you did so, and it damaged you physically so you avoided such things at all costs. You knew your limits; you weren’t meant to be a magic fix-all for these scenarios. Merely a guiding hand with enough energy to put the steps of fixing it into motion. Thus, why you had the foresight.

So you decided on the safest answer.

“I can provide energy and heal wounds depending on their severity,” You said, tapping your nails on your knees, “Plus I can use the energy to fight, and you already saw the creating aspect. I have a limit though, and passing that limit is dangerous for me.”

Nico let out a thoughtful noise, eyeing you with a mix of curiosity and fascination.

“So like, what are ya then?” She puffed more ash, making a perfect “o” shape with her mouth, “You seem human. Are ya half anythin’? Maybe ya got a demon daddy somewhere down the line.”

You shrugged at that, offering an apologetic smile as you replied, “Nothing that exciting. I get my powers from a deity of sorts—someone down the line probably made a deal for magic and I get the sloppy seconds from that.” Kind of a lie, kind of not. They didn’t need to know you were the one who made the deal.

“Whoa, that’s pretty cool!” Nico blinked, staring at you like you had grown horns, “Never heard of anythin’ like that before.”

You opened your mouth to reply, but was interrupted by V slowly rising to his feet. He was still waving away the smoke, brushing past you toward the door of the van as his companions followed him.

“I’ll be taking my leave now,” He said simply, offering Nero a half smile, “And If I don’t see you along the way...I’ll see you at the bottom of the Qliphoth.”

You felt a slight twinge of disappointment. You knew they were talking of splitting up earlier, but you were kind of hoping you could spend more time with the animals he kept with him. And, well...with him. He was a lot calmer and more collected than Nero, who’s heavy energy was a bit much for you if you were truly honest. As for Nico...the smoking was just too much. Brought back too many bad memories. The sensation of smoke in your face was definitely not welcome.  

You opened your mouth, unable to figure out how to ask if you could go with him. Luckily, you didn’t have to.

“V, take Y/N with you,” Nero put a hand on V’s shoulder, stopping him half out the door, “You could use the help.”

You saw V visibly pause, hesitation now showing in his frame as a couple seconds passed by.

“I assure you, I have the help I need,” He said simply, gesturing with his cane to Griffon and Shadow.

Nero crossed his arms, letting out an annoyed huff, “You’re pretty frail as it is, V. I don’t think your little bird friend can wrap a bandage and shit. You could use the healing energy and extra fire power as back up.”

There was another lengthy pause. Despite your mission here, you felt kind of guilty. You didn’t want to burden anyone or force your presence here—you had gotten the needed information, but this...You bit your lip, exchanging a glace with Nico as the silence stretched a bit longer than you liked. In theory you could have gone off on your own, did your own fighting. It would have been easier without hiding your powers, but these people made your foresight burn. They were a part of everything, at the very forefront of the conflict you were trying to fix. Whether with Nero or V, you'd still be getting the job done...but this was based on preference now.  

You nervously stood, brushing off dirt as you stepped up to address the two men.

“I don’t want to be forced on anyone,” You murmured, meeting Nero’s concerned gaze as you continued, “I’ll try to be useful where I can, but if V is uncomfortable, I—”

“Her presence is fine by me,” V interrupted you, despite how low and docile his tone was. Both you and Nero looked at him, but he met your gaze with one filled with calm curiosity, “I do have my moments of exhaustion. Nero is right, I could use a backup when that happens.”

Was that relief? Sure was. You tried not to let it show on your face.

Nero, however, released an obviously relieved sigh, “Perfect. I’m sure we’ll meet up somewhere along the way. Until then, Y/N, watch his back.”

Griffon let out an annoyed huff, raising a clawed foot at Nero’s face, “What are me and furball here for then? You don’t trust us, pretty boy?”

“Yep,” Nero replied simply, brushing past with an obviously fake smile and a pat on your shoulder, “Be safe, you two. Nico, I’ll call if I need anything.”

As you said that you felt a hand press a small piece of paper into your palm, your head turning to see Nico standing to your right now. You looked at the paper, seeing a phone number hastily scribbled there, along with Nico’s name.

“That’s my number,” She told you, tapping the paper twice, “Ya need anythin’ you find a phone and call, ya hear?”

You nodded, absorbing the paper into your palm after memorizing the number, “Thank you, Nico.” You would definitely call at some point, to see her if anything. Nico seemed friendly enough under the rough persona she projected. You liked that about her. It had been a while since you had any real friends, or friendly people to interact with. You had no idea how long you’d be there, but you were eager to savor every moment of it that you could get. So you patted Nico’s shoulder once and offered a kind smile, turning to meet V’s gaze again.

He gestured with his cane, that half smile still on his lips.

“Shall we?”

You nodded, following him and his companions out of Nico’s van. The door closed behind you, the sun still shining outside. You put up a hand to shield your eyes, but enjoyed the warmth regardless. It would have been a beautiful summer day if not for all the chaos in the world. You gave the van behind you a passing glance as you followed V away, unsure about how you felt about the whole situation. What the hell were you supposed to talk about? Would he even want to talk? Silence made you very nervous, but you didn’t want to be annoying either. You found yourself clasping your hands behind your back, taking small looks at V’s back when he walked. His shoulders were pretty broad for a guy so wiry. He had very slight muscle definition, and upon further inspection he did seem...frail.

Was he sickly? You frowned a little at the thought. He did walk with a cane, though you couldn’t tell if he had a limp or anything. His gate seemed steady, eyes fixed forward and...driven. He seemed very driven.

Or you assumed he was focused. He surprised you enough that you jumped when he spoke.

“There was always the option of staying behind,” He commented lightly, tilting that dark gaze to you with his typical wry smile. He never seemed to lose that little crooked smirk, like he was always in a state of constantly bemused. The only time he was without it was when he was reading that book.

“You seem very convinced that I wanted to stay behind,” You replied, jogging lightly to reach his side, “What’s that all about?”

He let out a light, thoughtful sound, tone light as he replied, “Merely an observation. You seemed to enjoy Nico’s company.”

You hummed quietly in response, taking in the buildings as you and V entered a part of the city still standing, albeit pretty damaged nonetheless. It looked like it would have been a nice city before the disaster. Gothic architecture with high windows, beautiful shops and what looked to be a market place in a city square. Or at least...they were beautiful once before. Now destroyed, bodies littering the streets frozen in their dying moments. You felt your heart sink as you passed them, seeing a child's form still holding a red balloon as ashes drifted from what remained of her.

Focus, the goth boy started a conversation.

“Nico is nice,” You replied after some thought, trying to shake off the images around you, “Nero is too. All three of you have been kind to me. But what can I say? I like animals and poetry.” You sighed softly, rubbing your arm as you added, “I also can’t stand cigarettes.”

He chuckled at that, tapping the book tucked away in his vest with light fingers. You took the time to observe that he had nice hands, elegant and beautiful.  

“That’s very understandable, although I am glad you find enjoyment in my musings,” He said, turning his head away once more, “It's going to be a long journey, so I’m sure you’ll be hearing a lot of it.”

You smiled lightly, running your fingers along a building as you passed by, “Can I ask about that? What’s up with the whole poetry thing?”

You saw him pause, both Griffon and Shadow stopping with him as he turned to look at you with a pondering expression.  

“...Strange,” He replied after a few moments, that half smirk coming back again, “You are the first person who asked me.”

Nero and Nico never once thought to ask? You blinked, wondering just why the hell no one had thought it was strange he just reads poetry at all times. Which, mind you, normalcy wasn’t your strong suit either, and you didn’t have a problem with his poetry reading. The more you thought about it, the more it made sense that they wouldn’t ask. From what you saw of Nero’s fighting style...he was pretty god damn extra. And Nico was not normal in the slightest. Everyone in the group was a bit quirky and odd in their own way, and you found that comforting.

“I was just curious,” You replied, scratching the back of your head, “Which, mind you, if it’s a private thing you don’t have to tell me.”

He let out a low hum, giving his cane a light twirl again.

“I find poetry clears the mind and brings focus in clarity in moments where there is none,” He still told you his reasoning, giving you a smoldering glance from under those lashes, “One could also argue a flare for the dramatic.”

Translation: He was just as extra as Nero, just in different ways.

You fought a laugh, clasping your hands behind your back as you replied, “Noted.”  

He hummed in response, starting forward again with a tap of that cane. Griffon soared behind you, landing his talons on your shoulders with a solid “oof” from you both as you stumbled a little to accommodate his weight. He wasn't light by any stretch of the word, he was a big bird. He just barely managed to settle, resting half his weight on your head as he trilled quietly and huffed.

“So, what’s your deal, Y/N?” His voice was loud in your ear, sharp talons scratching you ever so slightly, “Got all those fancy powers and shit, just wandering around a broken city? What were you doing there?”

Griffon was asking the questions you had hoped to avoid. You let out a low murmur of thought, inhaling softly through your nose as you formulated your response.

“I’m...kind of a drifter,” You decided to reply, grasping onto his clawed feet to help steady him as you walked, “I like traveling from place to place, and I like helping people. I had been looking in the ruins for anyone who may have needed help, and to see if I could figure out what was going on. In a way, it worked out." It wasn't a lie. You told yourself that.

You heard him let out a quiet “huh”, shaking out his feathers a little as his beak rested on your head. You smiled, enjoying that Griffon seemed more comfortable in your company now.  

“So, you have the gist of the situation right? Got any more questions?” He asked, tapping your head with his beak.

You winced a little, “From what I gathered...Urizen is a bad boy who did bad things and he needs a spanking in that big tree in the sky,” You pointed at the Qliphoth as you spoke, looking up at the towering behemoth with a disgusted gaze, “A guy named Dante may or may not be up there and need saving. Is that everything or am I missing something?”

Griffon snickered lightly, “Nah, that sounds about right.”

“Great. Then no, I don’t have any more questions.” That was a lie, you had several, but they were all more about personal things than the mission itself. You didn’t want to seem nosy and pry in on their business.  

You saw V smirk at you again from the corner of your eye, but by the time you turned to look he had turned away again. You frowned lightly, wishing you could even slightly begin to figure him out. He was full of mystery and intrigue, mild mannered and polite. But he also seemed easily amused, and pretty extra if you were being completely honest. He was a hard guy to read; mind you, you had only known him a few hours. You had plenty of time to figure it out, right?

You entered a small entry way tunnel of sorts, footfalls echoing as you both approached what looked to be an open back alley in the city. Griffon launched himself from your shoulders, causing you to stumble again and huff. You rubbed the skin there, feeling scratches through the think fabric of your shirt. You didn’t mind Griffon perching, but damn. His claws really did hurt. V looked at you again as Griffon glided ahead of you both, and you were sure you saw his gaze linger on the shoulders you had just rubbed. Upon further inspection you realized there was slight red on the fabric of your shirt from where griffon scratched you.

“Griffon,” He spoke, eyes meeting yours before he glanced at the bird, “Gentler.”

“Whoops, Oops, my bad,” Griffon trilled as he rounded back, seeing what V meant as he swept past you, “Girlie’s got fragile skin.”

You rolled your eyes, “I have normal skin, birdie,” You smiled again, looking at V as you said, “And don’t worry. I’m just happy he doesn’t outright dislike me.” You said that last part quieter, leaning toward V so only he could hear.

V chuckled, “Griffon is a simple creature. A mere bribe of food and he’s already on your side,” He tapped his cane along the concrete walls of the tunnel, the sound echoing hollowly in the space ahead of you, “As for you, Y/N...you don’t' really seem bothered by demons like Nero and the others.”

He was right, you weren’t. Sure, Demons were the enemy in this case and this scenario. But his companions were loyal to him, and in your travels, you had met plenty of kind demons and people who were labeled with bad stigmas. Making assumptions was bad, and you didn’t like doing that. Besides, neither of his creatures had threatened or wronged you—Griffon's taunting seemed harmless enough, and he was done with nicknames for the most part. As for Shadow, you were determined to get close enough to this cat to pet it, that's all you wanted. But V didn't need to know about that strange obsession of yours.

“I don’t make assumptions about people,” you replied, looking down at Shadow as it slinked along beside its master, “Kindness can exist in all manner of things, and your companions haven’t been outright unkind to me either. So why should I be unkind to them?” Empathy always came first before fighting—you much preferred making friends compared to outright hating literally everyone you met. Hell, some of the conflicts you had faced were resolved with just a little kindness and empathy. People would be surprised what you could accomplish if you just tried to help people.

V gave you a respectful nod at your response, a breeze traveling through the tunnel and sending his hair drifting slightly. You looked away, trying not to think about how nice that looked.  

Continuing forward, you and the group came out into the alleyway back into the sunlight. You looked around, seeing more debris and graffiti everywhere you looked. The hairs on the back of your neck started to stand up a little, foresight warning you something bad was about to occur if you kept walking. You held out a hand and grabbed V’s shoulder before you walked further, eyes scanning the area warily as that gentle breeze blew through again. Something was definitely here; you could tell that much. V looked at you, then looked around as well, gripping his cane tighter as Shadow growled and stepped forward, teeth bared and saliva dripping from its maw.

As soon as the cat entered the clearing, Demons began to appear, bubbling up from the ground and materializing into existence. The exit behind you was closed by tumbling rubble, and all other escapes blocked by...a shield of sorts? You stared in shock and confusion, sending what looked like red, magic veins and magic blocking any way out. This was a trap of sorts then. You and V exchanged a glance, and you were surprised to see he was incredibly calm, slightly bemused even. He walked forward slightly, your hand dropping from his shoulder as you warily waited to see what he would do.

Griffon swooped overhead, cackling as he said to V, “Oooh, genius says ‘be careful’! Yeah no shit, Shirley! Ain’t that right, V?” he swooped past your head, causing your hair to blow in that direction as he squawked, “I mean I know you’ve got girl wonder here now and all but you ARE still fragile, V! Wouldn’t take much to wipe you out in a sticky situation!”

You activated your Void power as he spoke, stepping up beside V as the sensation burned through the veins of your hands. You and V exchanged a look, you offering a light smile as you told him, “I’ve got your back.”

He inclined his head, giving you a small nod and twirling that silver cane.

“Excellent.”

Griffon made a noise of pain at your words, swooping by again as he continued, “Yeah well I’m just sayin’ running away is okay. It’s always okay to run away if you two aren’t up to it!”

You rose a brow, knowing damn well running away wasn’t really an option with how these demons were looking. In theory, you could use your Void powers to grab them all and yeet yourselves upward, over the shields and to somewhere safe. But these demons seemed easy enough. Squishy, one might say. The basic bitch of demons. You scrunched up your nose as one screeched at you, sending the stench of his breath your way. Yeah, that was definitely not your favorite thing.

On your left, V pulled out his book, opening it with one hand as he looked out at the demons with a half smile.

“He who desires but act not, breeds pestilence,” He read in that smooth tone, voice lilting and almost relaxing in the situation. He closed the book with a gentle thud, eyes tilting forward again as he inclined his head at the demons, “So it is written.”

You heard Griffon sigh, tone slightly exasperated as he landed on V’s outstretched arm, “Okay, Shakespeare, just remember this,” He shook out his feathers, a low growl in his tone as he continued, "You and I like to exist, so get rid of those demons quick, 'cause killin' them ain't my shtick!"  

You stifled a laugh, watching as he flew forward toward the demons, wings glowing with a bright blue mixed within the dark feathers.

“I got your back, ‘cause dyin’ is whack!” He finished his little improvised poem with a hefty cackle, Shadow stepping forward as well to punctuate it with a roar at the approaching creatures.

A second later, the battle began.

Read on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18136193/chapters/42882122#workskin

Tagged: @silentwhispofhope @just-call-me-no-name @nightshadow4713 @slightlylunatic

[seasaltmemories]

Suffering

Rating: T

Summary: You’re mistaken to believe hate swallows every other emotion.” Slowly he closed the distance between them. “Love and hate are a masochistic pair of dancers, yet they continue twirling around one another all the same." [Arranged Marriage AU] [Trigger Warnings]

~

Rigel Castle was quiet. After an exciting night of song and dance, it seemed no one had the energy to return back to the land of the living just yet. Few guards remained at their posts, and the ones that did were often, sleeping, drunk, or both. It was a blessing Celica was thankful for, but it did nothing to alleviate her anxiety.

The only things left fueling her plans were desperation and determination. Neither logic nor well-constructed strategies meant anything, anymore. Tonight might be her last chance at freedom, and if she wasted it and got caught then returning to the dungeon might be the least of her worries.

 Earth Mother, guide me please. Don’t let my escape me in vain.

Just then, Celica heard the sound of clear, hurried footsteps. Frantically, she scanned her surroundings for a place to hide. Like the rest of the Rigel Castle, there was a restrained formality that offered little decoration. The only break in its strict design was a large door that laid at the end of the hallway. It made the hair on her body stand on end, but there was no time for second thoughts. As quickly and carefully as she could, she cracked open the door and slide herself inside.

Just as she rested her back against the door, she heard the sound of voices, and like that ever muscle in her body froze.

“Disgraceful!” A low voice scoffed. “Absolutely disgraceful to see Rigelian soldiers like this. Doubt we’ll be able to find enough to form a half-sober platoon.”

“Aren’t you being a little harsh, sir? After the last few days, they’ve earned their relaxation.”

“They’re not done yet though.”

“Excuse me? I thought the Deliverance had already ridden out.”

“Exactly. We’re not done dealing with them yet.” At the news, Celica’s eyes widened in fear. “Like I said, get me the least drunk men you can. We ride out at dawn.”

Something like a scream curled in the back of her throat. Not just because of the footsteps growing louder and louder, almost upon her, nor the bitter taste of betrayal on her tongue, but because of all that had happened since the Rigelians first step foot into Zofia--since this terrible marriage bound her to them in the first place.

I will never go back to that dungeon.  Magic crackled at her fingertips. We all will die before that happens.

But soon the footsteps grew soft again, then completely silent. She was completely alone with nothing but her burning hatred as company.

Before she could dwell on it much longer, she notice that the prickling sensation had not gone away. In fact as Celica examined herself, she found the pain had all concentrated around her brand.

For the first time, she noticed her surroundings were much different now. This part of Rigel Castle felt like neither like its brutal dungeons nor its deceptive residential wings. It seemed...older, less another man-made structure and more as if it had emerged from the earth itself.

A flight of stairs descended before her, yet as she peered over the edge, she could see no bottom. It just extended deeper and deeper into the cave. Every instinct in her body warned against what might wait at the bottom, but her brand seemed to sting even more the closer she got.

What did such a phenomenon mean, Celica couldn’t say. But she wanted to it mean something. That was the only thing she was certain of anymore.

And so she mouthed another her prayer to herself as she ventured down.

Time seemed to elongate, seconds taking minutes to pass. The steeper the stairs grew, the more the brand burned her skin. Soon both facts were all that she was focusing on. What if in reality she was just falling into a giant pit? She usually wasn’t one to doubt her perception so much, but the pain seemed to twist and bend her sight. When she made it to the bottom would she find her limbs broken and mangled for her reckless endeavor?

Just when she was sure the pain in her palm would grow overwhelming, when her courage would finally give way and she’d scramble back to Alm’s room to forget about the attack on the Deliverance and play the good Rigelian wife, she came across a strange cell of sorts.

In the middle of it sat a great skeleton of a dragon with a sword piercing its skull.

“Oh Mila...” Celica murmured to herself.

“You called?”

It took all of her willpower not to shriek as she moved closer to find another dragon lying just out of her initial line of vision. Brown-dried blood stained its scales while feathery wings curled around its body. It had been centuries since she had assumed that form, but could it really be?

“Earth Mother!” Celica’s voice cracked with emotion. Her arm seemed to move with a mind of its own, straining to touch her, yet what little distance she could reach through the iron bars wasn’t enough.

“I’m here, child.” She sighed. “It pains me I can’t take a shape you are more comfortable with, but it really is me.”

After weeks of refusing to cry, it was like the floodgates opened. Celica found herself sobbing like a child again as she collapsed to the floor. There was so much she wanted to say, it all swirled together into a mess of tears. Had Mila heard all the prayers she had offered up, knew the pain and humiliation she had endured in her name? Dragon or no, she wanted to be there with her, pressed against her scales as she babbled away every hidden secret she had carried since the fire.

But no matter how close she was to true peace, Celica knew she couldn’t fall apart. Not yet. Slowly, she rose so that she could sink into a proper bow.

“I traversed all of Valentia in search of you, Earth Mother. How may I serve you?”

“You may rise, Anthiese.” It felt strange to hear Mila address her. Outside of the disaster of a honeymoon, she had only visited her once or twice. Her purpose had always been to stand as her father’s daughter rather than an individual, to be seen and not heard as the pageantry and rituals took place before her eyes. “My, you look so much like Liprica now. You’ve blossomed into such a fine lady.”

Celica stiffened. Sometimes even she forgot about her mother’s life before becoming just another wife of her father’s. She had been a sacred and well-respected priestess at Mila’s Temple. To directly serve their goddess was an honor only few ever received. She should have held that position until the day she died.

Yet after her father’s men had kidnapped her in the middle of the night, Mila hadn’t remarked on the situation at all.

“Her sacrifice was a tragedy I grieve to this day,” Mila closed her eyes and paused as she took a labored breath. “But without it, I couldn’t have claimed you as mine.”

“Claimed me?”

“Yes,” With one word it was like a spark had been ignited her eyes. “Neither Duma nor I knew the exact details, but we shared our blood with you humans, for a reason. One day our bloodline would return to save us from our darkest days.”

It was difficult to process such news, but something deep inside of Celica accepted it without question. Her pain and suffering had been for a reason. She wasn’t a failure. Her goddess needed her, specifically. Despite the rush though, she tried to remain calm and level-headed.

“What did they do to you, Earth Mother?” Her gaze drifted back to dragon skeleton with the sword. “Is that--”

“I’ll explain everything to the best of my abilities.” Mila tilted her head towards the other dragon. “That is, indeed, my brother, and that is Falchion. It was a secret weapon he held, back during our quarreling days. If he died against me, then one of his branded could return the favor and avenge him. Only it seems the current emperor has gone mad and fancied himself a god greater than Duma. I don’t know what spurred this betrayal, but I pity my brother all the same.”

“What about the prince?” She found herself interrupting Mila by accident. “Forgive me, but I perceived that he was the one to harm you.”

“He did.” Something like laughter bubbled up from her fangs, but it was as if her body couldn’t form the right sounds. “Poor boy has been twisted from his birth to hate his master and true destiny. He used Duma’s hair and teeth to create a special net to ensnare me. Can you imagine such blasphemy?”

It was only with that information, Celica finally noticed the wires extending from Mila’s body. They were thin, only visible when they caught the light. Usually such trifling things would be easily ignored by a goddess. It had to be something about coming from Duma that did this.

“Why haven’t they killed you too? What twisted purpose would they torture you for?” It felt like she was on the verge of something, like she was slowly putting together a puzzle and just needed a few more pieces, but she still couldn’t quite tell what the picture was.

There was that not-laugh again. Was she trying to smile? Mila was showing teeth, but there was little mirth in the action. “My dear brother isn’t dead. He almost is, but it seems sentiment got in the way at the last minute. Or spite, who can tell? But this is where you can come in and save me.” Mila strained to lean forward, yet could only move a few centimeters. “You are branded. If in his dying breath he gives you permission to wield Falchion, you could cut me free. Nothing else can break these ties. You’re my only hope, Anthiese.”

The weight of her gaze laid heavy on Celica’s chest. As honorable as such a role was, the responsibility was beginning to drown out her previous elation. She was so tired. She didn’t know how many more burdens she could carry before her body gave way.

“Are you sure this is the only choice, I don’t what would make Duma trust me now when I’ve--”

“Don’t question my judgment!” Her sudden roar made Celica flinch. “I apologize,” Quickly Mila lowered her voice. “But you do know what a brand means?” There was that spark again. “Your life is mine. I nursed your ancestors for centuries. As the product of their prosperity, you have no right to refuse me now.” This time, Celica could tell she was indeed trying to smile, although the expression was terrifying on her face. “I believe in you.”

Celica took a deep breath. Mila was right. How selfish could she be to abandon her country and people right at the last minute? If that ambush on the Deliverance was really going to happen, she couldn’t waste anymore time dallying about.

“I’ll do it.” She bowed deep and low to the ground. “I won’t let you down.”

After examining the cell, soon, she had found an entrance. Considering Mila was trapped in her dragon form, it seemed they hadn’t bother to lock a small human-sized door on the other side. When she entered, the size of both dragons took her aback, yet Mila continued to give that fanged grin in encouragement.

“Take Falchion. Then all will be made clear to you.”

As Celica took hold of Falchion, she didn’t know what she expected. Perhaps more pain, or holy fire damning her for touching another god’s sacred weapon.

Well she didn’t know when she closed her eyes, but when she opened them instead she found a tall man standing before her.

He was dressed in Rigelian armor, long green hair done back in a ponytail. Despite lacking any similar facial features to his sister, somehow she recognized him immediately.

“Duma,” Celica whispered. Then realizing her error, she tried to bow while still holding on to Falchion, although of course she couldn’t bow as deeply as she had for Mila, as that would be disloyal to her, yet for some reason she couldn’t see Mila nor Falchion anymore where had they--

“Peace, child.” His deep voice steadied her thoughts.

“War Father,” Celica ducked her head. “I petition you on the behalf of my own patron. Please excuse any sacrilege I might have committed against your Faithful and put aside any old grudges because the only way I can--”

“I said peace, child.” This time there was an edge to his voice. “Although I am in this decaying state, I still have not lost my hearing. I know my sister’s schemes. The only thing I remain ignorant of, is if you are worthy of my judgment or not.”

It took all her willpower to stay standing tall, to keep looking him in the eyes. She didn’t know what was more likely to happen once her nerve gave out, if she would cry or strike him.

“You have the bearings of a warrior, child of peace. That’s not something I’ve seen in many of my kings, much less a pet spoiled on milk and honey.”

“Forgive me War Father,” Before she could stop herself, the words were already slipping past her tongue. “But I don’t recall ever being given milk and honey.”

Red eyes set on her, and for a moment, Celica was certain she’d be vaporized any second. Instead, Duma tilted his head.

“Elaborate.”

“I don’t know what you want to hear, but Jedah talked as if you loved suffering. I’ve had enough suffering just to get to where I am standing now. I don’t wish to suffer more simply for your entertainment.” Alm had been the first to insist that pretty lies had no place in Rigel. Even if that had proven to be a pretty lie in of itself, she wanted to see how their god would fare against a brutal truth.

Duma just continued to study her. “Tell me, child of peace. Do you hate me?”

The question took her aback. “I respected you. Even if Mila guarded Zofia, without you, Valentia would have never survived. I’m grateful for that.”

“Why do you use the past tense?”

“Because when I was forced to pray to you until my voice went hoarse, when my torturers hurt me in your name, I truly did loathe you. Even if you never wanted any of that to happen to me, I can’t help but carry that pain with me when I think of you now. I don’t know which one will win out after this is over.”

“You’re mistaken to believe hate swallows every other emotion.” Slowly he closed the distance between them. “There’s a part of me that still hates my sister, yet the only reason I’ve refused to die yet is in hopes that she might be spared.” As large as he was next to her, there was something in the curve of his lip that seemed to bring him down to her level. “Love and hate are a masochistic pair of dancers, yet they continue twirling around one another all the same."

Something uncomfortable swirled in the pits of her stomach. She did her best to push it down. “So did I fail your judgment?”

“I wanted Prince Albein to wield Falchion so badly.” Duma sighed. “He reminded me so much of Rigel. I thought we might take all of Valentia together. Maybe even dethrone Naga and her precious people.” Whatever vulnerability that had existed before was gone now, replaced with a proud strength that could snap her like a twig if he so pleased. “But I supposed his soul partner shall do. I see fire in your eyes, child of peace. You know how to do what is necessary.” Gently he placed his hand on top of her head.

“I’m putting a lot of trust in you. Once Falchion is unsealed, there will be no going back. Promise me you’ll save my sister.”

“I will.” Celica clasped her hands and brought them to her lips. “I swear on my life.”

“No matter what she says.” The last part startled her, and her confusion must have shown on her face. “I’m afraid I don’t have enough time to explain. Still I always believe even the worst suffering can bring wisdom. I hope it may guide you well.” He turned around, looking at a horizon that didn’t exist. “Is it alright if I close my eyes now? I used to be too stubborn to ever accept peace. Perhaps this old fool still has time to learn.”

In an explosion of light, Duma’s image dispersed. When Celica found herself opening her eyes again, Falchion was free and the skeleton gone.

“I’ll pray for you, War Father.” Celica found herself whispering. “I’ll pray that you learn peace.”

“Good work Anthiese.” Mila’s voice was high and tinny, breaking Celica from her musing. “Now just cut the wires and then everything will be fixed.”

The weight of the sword felt heavier than it should. As she dragged it toward Mila, she tried to assess Duma’s words. Did he believe Mila to have lost all hope? Or perhaps he worried that she might unknowingly drag her own brand bearer into another trap.

“Wait,” Celica slowed to a stop. “Before we start this, there is something you have to know. I have soldiers who could be walking into a trap--”

“None of that will matter once I’m free!” Mila groaned. “Please you’ll understand soon.”

It seemed in this panicked state, there was little reasoning with her. It was selfish of her to not consider how Mila’s pain might cloud her mind just as it had clouded her own in the dungeon. There seemed to be one only one way to dispel the chaos. With a sigh, Celica readied her blade.

Once Mila is free, everything will be fixed.

With a single swing, Celica cut the wires embedded in Mila.

In an instant, she stood on her hindquarters, form shifting rapidly between her full draconic size and a woman of feathers and scales. Every time Celica’s eyes got used to one version, Mila snapped back to a different one, sometimes even ending up stuck in a grotesque half-form. It was only once her mind gave up on processing this did she finally register the guttral scream that remained just as pained and tortured no matter what.

“Oh Earth Mother,” Celica whimpered, not sure if she was calling out to the being in front of her anymore.

“No...I-I expected...this,” Mila croaked out between cries. “I apologize for my deceit.”

A great clawed foot crashed into Celica’s chest as Mila straddled her. Her claws tore through her shirt with ease and laid readied above her skin to do the same thing.

“Mila please, I didn’t mean to hurt you!” She pushed uselessly against her leg, unable to escape its weight. “I’m sorry, please forgive me!”

“Your soul is so bright...it’s such a beautiful thing,” Her voice was more gentle than ever, sounding scarily human-like now. “Just one bite won’t hurt,” Her right foot transformed into a human hand, and it gripped Celica’s chin. “Quit squirming and remember your vows, Liprica.”

What followed next shouldn’t have occurred. Falchion had been knocked from her hands and laid out of reach. And even without the lack of touch, enchanted weapons always took a while to master. Arts couldn’t be called from them without intense practice. Yet once Mila grabbed her, Celica felt as if her bones had been turned to gunpowder.

And well Duma had said the fire had been there from the start.

An inferno of red and gold consumed them both. Mila’s cries, their brilliant blaze, it was all drowned out by the blood boiling in her veins. The part of herself aware of what was happening wondered if this is what her siblings had felt in the villa, if they had now bestowed on her combined pain of their deaths as they had slowly burned to ash. Or maybe it wasn’t ghosts, but fate that had paid her a visit. Maybe all the times she should have died had now converged to make sure she couldn’t slip away this time.

The rest of her could only weep in fear.

As quickly as the flame had appeared, it died out soon after. Celica struggled to remain conscious, but darkness blurred her vision. The only thing her eyes could focus on was Mila, now charred and burned as she stumbled back. Yet as she regained her footing, she took off running towards her.

 Oh this is it

The thought came to her with sparkling clarity. Killed by her own goddess, how crueler could the universe get?

Yet right as Mila was about to trample her, she leaped and crashed through the cell bars. A roar filled the tunnels and once it faded away, equal parts dread and relief flooded her body. Soon she could tell her vision would darken completely.

 Seems I’m still the princess who refuses to die...

 I guess even I don’t deserve such kindness.

~

The first thing destiny took from Alm was his dignity.

A servant had barged into his room, and in his half asleep state he had cared little to listen to her. Rather he had frantically pulled at his covers to try and maintain some degree of modesty for him and Anthiese.

But as he reached for her, all he found was empty space.

While stunned, the servant had dragged him out at bed. She was an older matron who between frantic cries scoffed at his bashfulness. Rather than noticing his indecency at all, she kept yelling about a giant beast ravaging the halls.

In an instant, Alm became completely awake.

He sent the servant in search of his sword and armor as he dressed himself, mind whirling with worries. There was so much to consider, where to find Father, if the Duma wires had given way, and if so, would it be worth it to try and pry Falchion out of Duma’s skull for the umpteenth time. But one thought concerned him above all else.

She’s not here. She said she’d stay here.

His first instinct had been to run up to Father’s bedroom, but by the time he made it there, he was nowhere to be found. Anxiety and fear gripped his being. He searched for a servant or guard to guide him, but everyone he talked to proved to be just as agitated and confused as him. Would Berkut be any help? Or would there just be another naked, surprised prince to have to explain everything all over again to? Gods, where had Anthiese gone?

There were so many questions, so many possible answers he didn’t want to face. He couldn’t tell if it was a blessing or a curse when a rumbling shook the castle, jostling him from his thoughts. Before he could regain his footing, there was a crash, and a soldier was thrown through a nearby window.

“What’s going on? Can you report on the current situation?” His first instinct was to help the soldier up, but on closer expectation he found her legs broken, bloody things.

“Monster...” The soldier muttered as she clung to his breastplate. “You have to help the Emperor, he’s--” Her words descended into an unintelligible mess of groans. As much as her state pained him, he couldn’t help but drop her at the revelation.

For a split second, he almost prayed.

Instead though, he rushed out onto the ramparts the soldier had been thrown from. The night was still dark, with only a few torches to light the way. But for his lack of sight, the sounds and smells illuminated enough. There a low, constant moan, humming from station to station. With each source a disgusting mixture of blood and piss tainted the air. While Alm was no stranger to the battlefield, this wasn’t anything so honorable. This was a massacre.

 Don't look at them, find Father

He ran down its length, trying not to focus on the bodies the light settled on, trying not to listen to their calls for help. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry--” Maybe that was all he was good for anymore: useless apologies that were uttered too late. None of his words had ever been good enough for Anthiese, why did he thing they would do him any good as hurried whispers? At this point he felt as he was no longer himself anymore, but some puppet on a string desperately trying to remember his dance. Gods, he had to do something. He was the brand bearer, it didn’t matter who started the fire, if the world burned, it only do so because of his failure to stop it.

 They have to be alive, they have to be alive, please take me if you must, but they have to be--

Both his thoughts and steps came to a crashing halt once he reached the far bastion. In the darkness it was difficult to make sense of it all, but there was something almost in the shape of Mila. It was the right size, bearing both feathers and scales, but something in his mind couldn’t put all the details quite together. He had already seen her draconic form, already faced down the goddess and her greatest power, yet something about this terrified him to the core of his being.

The earlier rumbling crystallized into something like words as she bent towards the soldier pinned beneath her.

“Heretic, blasphemous rat, wicked man, rotting in my shit is too good a fate for you, you don’t deserve to wear my brother’s brand--”

“No!” The cry came from somewhere young and foolish inside of him. At the interruption, the dragon turned to reveal a beautiful woman’s face stained with blood. Her movement allowed a beam of moonlight to slip through and confirm the worse of his fears.

This time even just focusing on the details couldn’t save him from the truth. Even if he could have somehow missed the emperor’s lance which laid still clutched in his hands, if he brilliant red and gold armor wasn’t a give-away, if the entire face had been smashed in and not only halfway where he could still fear like never before on Father’s face--

His body was in motion before he could realize it, sword poised to hit not the most lethal locations, but the most painful ones. Yet with each swing, she deflected the blow with hardened scales lined against her legs.

“My, my, you need to save your breathe boy,” It was only then Alm realized he was screaming, no roaring as if he was a wild beast himself. Yet such taunts only made him grow louder and his lunges more frantic.

“I’m trying to do you a service!” She laughed. “While you couldn’t help your upbringing, your pain will be a long, (delicious) experience.” Despite her crowing, she stumbled at those words. Alm wasted no time. In one swift motion he raised his sword--

--and just missed her as jumped off the bastion and flew away.

For a minute, Alm could only stare at her slowly fading figure and seethe in his rage. He wanted to transcend his bones and flesh, become a force of nature with no higher purpose in his life than to destroy. But as he lost sight of Mila, the grief and pain became all there was left of him.

Before he figured it would consumed him completely, he approached Father’s corpse. There was little that would make such a grisly sight palatable, but he did his best to straighten his armor, to place his crown back upon his head. He did his best to fight against the tide of regrets. It was a warrior’s death. He had protected his country until his last breath. Better to mean something than to just waste away.

But it didn’t stop Alm from wishing more than anything that he had at least gotten to be there with him when he died, to have more memories of the end than a mangled corpse.

“Father, what am I supposed to do now?”

The only answer he received was his own chocked sobs.

A.N. Lots more blood and pain in this chapter, which was similar to the writing process for this lol, I had a rough semester, plus some outside projects, which made what I knew would be a difficult chapter even more of a challenge, sorry if this feels thin content-wise, but there is a lot going on with lore and action so I figured it would better to stop obsessively editing it and to just get it out before Three Houses takes up a lot of my free time

The plot of Echoes have finally come to terrorize the PLBT!cast, just when a stable status quo seemed in sight, now both of them most handle the consequences of their choices

[bat-losers-inc]

Collisions in the Dark (Ch 6): Gambit

Warning: dub-con

Summary: In the aftermath of his night with Jason, Tim learns many things. Like the target of Ra’s attack and that he might not know Jason as well as he thinks he does.

Pairing: Jason Todd/Tim Drake & Ra’s al Ghul/Tim Drake

Chapter Notes: Gambit: A sacrifice (usually of a pawn) used to gain an early advantage in space or time in the opening.

“Please keep him safe. Let him lay his head on my chest and we will be like sailors, swimming in the sound of it, dashed to pieces.” — “Saying Your Names”, Richard Siken.

The room was cast in darkness when Tim was awoken by Jason’s hand on his shoulder, shaking him gently. Tim stirred, shifting his cheek from Jason’s naked chest to search out the other boy’s face in the dark. Tim grimaced at the slick feeling of sweat that coated his cheek, wiping it away with his hand.

“You need to head back.” said Jason, his steady voice and straight posture suggesting he’d been awake for awhile.

Tim’s eyes had finally adjusted to the darkness of the room and he could now see how Jason would not hold his gaze. Had he had another nightmare? Tim had only witnessed one of Jason’s nightmares once and Jason had never told Tim what it had been about after Tim had woken him. He could imagine Jason waking in fright, limbs jerking as the paralyzing hold of sleep released him, only to lie still and wait for his heartbeat to calm as Tim slept soundly on the other boy’s chest. It was definitely something that Jason would do and it irritated Tim that Jason wouldn’t want to wake him and talk about it.

Then again, Tim realized, why should he? Tim had no claim on Jason, in fact... they barely knew each other as far as their personal lives went. If it wasn’t jeopardizing the mission or their secret identities, then it didn’t need to be shared with the rest of their family. Tim guessed that Batman’s emotional repression had rubbed off on all of them and for better or worse Tim would just have to deal with it.

“I don’t want to go back to him.” Tim admitted.

Jason rubbed at the dark stubble that lined his jaw. Was he going to grow a beard to match the locals who lived in this frozen landscape?. “Tim… you have to.”

Jason’s words betrayed how tired he really was, though Tim was not sure quite yet if it was emotional tiredness or physical. Probably both, thought Tim. If he knew anything about Jason he was worried about the events to come today and the future implications of that.

“Are you thinking about that family? Was that what the nightmare was about? Are you worried that you’re going to have to do something bad to them?”

Jason’s eyes flicked to his face for a moment, just long enough to show Tim his suspicious surprise. “Don’t you worry about my nightmare. It’s an old wound, nothing I can’t handle.”

And Tim flashed through the possibilities, oh how there were so many. The Joker…  the explosion…  his burial… the pit. There was a Lazarus Pit hidden somewhere deep in this mountainous compound. Ra’s wouldn’t feel safe dwelling here if there wasn’t. Did Jason know about it? Did it scare him being so close to it again? Once you’ve been resurrected by the pit there’s no way to use it again. You get one extra life with an added dash of pit rage, but it was still only one life. If you die again after that…  that’s it. Do not pass Go. Do not collect $200.

“Ra’s is expecting you to do whatever it takes to make the doctor work for us. Even if that means hurting his family.” Tim warned him.

“I won’t hurt that child.” Jason objected instantly.

“I know,” said Tim. “I’ll make sure to keep the girl out of the way and out of Ra’s mind as much as possible. But you might have to hurt the mother…”

Jason shrugged. “Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve hurt a civilian to get what I needed.”

It didn’t sound like something Jason admired in himself. He sounded a bit disgusted by his actions, but he also seemed to have come to terms with them.

“Not to sound like a broken record here, Tim, but you need to head back. Like seriously, you’re already risking your skin staying here this long.”

Tim slid out of Jason’s bed and started to pull his clothes back on. He found Jason’s clothes in the same pile where they’d been shed the night before and tossed them to him. “I told Ra’s we’d try talking to Dr. Stafford again today, this time with his wife and daughter. If we go there now and Ra’s questions me when I return to our room then he won’t suspect anything. I’ll just be following his orders.”

“That’s a weak out, especially for you, Tim.” Jason paused to pull his shirt over his head, his bed head springing loose once his head cleared the collar. “But I’m inclined to let you have it for once.”

He hopped into a pair of jeans, slipped on shoes, and made an honest attempt to tame his messy locks though it didn’t seem to do him much good.

Finally, he sighed.  “Let’s go see that family.”

They walked side by side down the dim hallways that turned Ra’s large compound into a confusing maze. It was only when they reached the lower levels that it became almost impossible to continue on as they had because of the traffic of people that passed by them.

Tim fell back behind Jason after that, Jason’s tall frame and broad shoulders blocking his view of anything in front of him. He would have liked to see the path they were traveling in case he had to return here by himself. Once again, Tim cursed his short stature.

They arrived at a gate and Jason nodded a greeting to the guards stationed in front of it. “Pemba. Tashi.”

The two guards returned his greeting with silent nods and unlocked the gate to let them pass through. Tim took notice of the old fashioned ring of keys in the guard’s hands. For all of Ra’s’ high tech in the command center, he was strategically low tech with some parts of his security. If Tim had to venture a guess, the only places with one set of keys to unlock them were probably here and the lazarus pit. Ra’s would not be foolish enough to risk those to any more than a few people.

They heard the the voices before anything else. The light cadence of a mother’s voice as she sang to her daughter. Jason paused at the sound of it, just for a second, long enough for Tim to figure he didn’t want to disturb the moment. He watched as Jason clenched his fists and continued on.

The mother heard the sound of their footsteps on the stones. Her voice was an urgent whisper as she hushed her daughter. “ — quiet for Mommy.”

A few hiccupping breaths were the only response she got. Jason shoved the bar across and yanked the cell door open. Mrs. Stafford was crouched on the dirty floor of the cell and recoiled to the far wall when she saw Jason standing over her. “Please…”

She didn’t bother saying anymore, for even Tim could see that she didn’t know what to plead for. He had no doubt that any past cries from her had gone on deaf ears down here.

“Do you remember me?” asked Jason. His voice was soft, entirely devoid of force to keep the woman calm and at attention.

She nodded.

“This is my friend, Tim. He’s going to be taking you to talk to your husband. You’re going to convince him to start working.”

“Why?” The woman’s voice was thick with confusion but Jason continued to talk over her unasked questions, trying to keep her focused.

“You’re going to remind him that the safety of his family depends on his involvement. That the longer he resists, the more he is putting your life and the life of your daughter in danger. Please, do not make me hurt you or your daughter.”

Jason seemed to have said all he needed to, for he shifted aside to let Tim through the doorway. Tim took the mother by her elbow and lead her out into the hall.

“Mommy!” a high voice cried out from another cell. The woman jerked around in Tim’s hold, swiping matted blonde hair away from her eyes as she found the cell her daughter was in, though she was too small to be seen through the window.

“Tim, go now. Cell 58. The guards there will take care of it from there.” Jason urged, voice loud over the continuous cries of the girl. Tim was quick to tighten his grip and tug the mother farther down the hall.

Mrs. Stafford did not put up any struggle as Tim lead her down the hall, her gaze turning back every once and awhile towards the way they had come, though they had walked far enough now that the voices of her daughter could no longer be heard. It did not take long after that for her to regain her composure.

“What are you two doing here with these people? You’re still children, you shouldn’t be tied up with terrorists.”

Tim scoffed a laugh at the idea of anyone calling Jason a child… or himself for that matter. Sure he had people in his life who cared about him, but none of those people had ever stopped him from risking his life.

“Jason’s not a child. He’s 21 and I’m 18. We’re old enough to understand what we’re doing. We can take care of ourselves.”

He was hoping that the sternness of tone would dissuade her from further discussion, but it only seemed to anger her more.

“You’re a child. ” she spat, coming to a stop so sharply that she nearly broke Tim’s grip on her. “And just like every child does you think that you’re invincible, but at some point something horrible is going to happen and you’ll know that you were the cause of it. You’ll be all alone and then you’ll wish there was someone there to take care of you.”

Perhaps you’re right, thought Tim but he said nothing. Instead he pulled his gaze away from Mrs. Stafford’s cold expression and directed it ahead of them. He tugged on her arm to continue forward. Cell 58 was in a small hall all on its own with another pair of guards monitoring the door.

They stepped forwards when Tim came towards them, grasping the woman by either elbow. Tim stilled the guards before they opened the cell door.

“Talk to your husband,” he urged. “and when you’re done knock twice on the door and your be returned back to your daughter.”

Tim specifically did not say “cell” for fear that she wouldn’t follow their orders. If she thought she was being reunited with her daughter after this, then perhaps she really would try to convince her husband to start work on the device. Tim, of course, could not fulfill this promise but he also did not want to deny Mrs. Stafford hope that her family would remain safe.

When Tim returned back to where Jason was waiting for him, he was surprised by the scene that laid before his eyes. The Mrs. Stafford’s cell door stood open still as they had left it, waiting for her to be returned to her cell, but open also was the daughter’s cell. Jason’s voice carried through from inside the small room.

“Shhh, didn’t your mom tell you to be quiet for her? You’ve got to be strong for her. How about I sing you a song like she did, would that make you feel better?”

There was a short silence that followed where Tim could not guess what the girl had answered with, but a moment later Jason’s voice started to sing quietly, so Tim knew the answer. The song was vaguely familiar, a rock song turned acoustic by the slow lull of Jason’s voice. Tim knew he’d heard it long ago but couldn’t remember the band or the song name.

Jason sang without hesitation, knowing that the girl was not old enough to truly understand the lyrics. He let his voice rise and hum, the part of him that recalled his own childhood remembering that it was the tune of the song that mattered more than the words themselves.

Tim crept forward until he could see Jason sitting on the ground next to the little girl, one of his calloused hands stroking the back of her head, his own head tilted back against the wall eyes cast up at the ceiling. Jason hummed the tune for a line, and tried to fill in the spaces with bits of lines that he could remember.

Tim blinked and froze at the realization that Jason’s eyes were now on him. Jason’s voice faded off and his hand stopped stroking the girl’s hair.   “I didn’t mean to—”

Jason gave a small shake of his head, looking tired. “It’s fine.”

But as Jason rose to his feet and watched the little girl curl up like a cat on the warm spot he’d made on her mattress, Tim couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d interrupted something deeply personal for Jason. And he knew instantly that it was a type of intimacy that Tim had never shared with Jason, even with how close they had recently become. Tim had followed him when he was Robin, he’d saved his life, shared his bed… but he did not know the Jason that sang to little kids. Perhaps Bruce had caught glimpses of that Jason years ago, but Jason made sure that no one else did nowadays.

He closed the cell door quietly and locked it, not looking at Tim when he said, “Let go. It’ll be awhile yet before the guards return Mrs. Stafford to her cell and longer till we know if the doctor will cooperate.”

“Doctor Stafford began work this afternoon. I brought the finished blueprints with me if you’d like to look over them together.” It was dark again when Tim was able to tell Ra’s the news and Tim realized he had passed the whole day away without seeing the light of day. Most of his time had been spent hanging around the lower levels of the compound where the cells were situated and the rest of the time perched on a stool under the fluorescent lights watching Mr. Stafford start his work. Getting to see the blueprints before Ra’s, though, had been well worth it. At least now he knew the size of the device and it’s potential range of effect.

Ra’s smile was genuinely gleeful, but that did nothing to calm Tim. “I told you Jason would do what needed to be done.”

“I guess we won’t know until that actually happens. The wife was the one to convince the doctor. We sent her in to talk to him and whatever she said must have worked. I’d be careful not to mistreat her if she has that much persuasion on her husband.”

“I believe you’re right. We should reward the woman. Tomorrow I’ll tell the guards to put her child in a cell with her.”

“That’s awfully nice of you.” said Tim, but then realized that though the mother and daughter would be together it could not distract them from the fact that they were still locked in a cell. Just like me and Jason, he thought, two prisoners locked together in this compound. We’re no freer than they are.    

“I told you I can be a lenient man, Timothy. I knew that it upsetted you to keep them apart, so I’m easing your conscience now that you’ve come through for me. “ Ra’s smiled. “But, I believe that one favor should be repaid with another and it is past time that we sealed our agreement.”

Of course he did, for Ra’s never did anything that was not in his favor. He took Tim’s hand. Tim allowed himself to be lead towards the bed. His mind already detaching itself to reside within memories of last night. His memory of the night was still fresh and it took no effort at all of pretend that the hands removing his clothing were Jason’s, wrinkled because he’d just gotten out of the shower instead of from old age. The stubble that rubbed Tim’s neck and chin raw was the beard that Jason had grown during his time here.

With thoughts of Jason’s muscular form in his mind, of him flexing over Tim as Jason panted and whispered his name in Tim’s ear, Tim’s body did not betray him. Neither did his words as a different man than the one in his mind thrusted within him. Tim dug his teeth firmly into his bottom lip, blocking off the name that threatened to pass from his lips, knowing it would condemn him if Ra’s were to hear it during such an intimate moment. His heart pounded in the same frantic beat as Ra’s own when the older man collapsed on the bed next to him, but for an entirely different reason.

Ra’s pulled Tim’s back against his chest, his arm firm against Tim’s torso. “You were just as beautiful as I’d thought you’d be, Beloved.”

Tim’s eyes closed tightly. He pressed his face deeper into the pillow under his head, his mind already thinking of another place to inhabit for the rest of the night. He thought back to the low croon of Jason’s voice bringing the sound of it into the front of his mind and trying to recall the words.

“I’ll look forward to having you at my side when we strike New York.”

Tim’s eyes flashed open, all thoughts of Jason vanishing from his head at Ra’s words.

“New York?” he asked, hurrying to turn around in the small room Ra’s embrace allowed.

When he came face to face with Ra’s, the older man smiled and shrugged. “You had been asking where the target was, weren’t you? New York City. We’re going to plant the weapon inside the UN.”

Tim swallowed around a suddenly dry throat. “We’re going to attack the UN.”

And once again Tim went another night without sleep.

[trliteraltrash-fics]

Grin and Bear It - Chapter One

Chapter One : No Way Out

[Ao3 Link]

Inspired by @miss-conduct !

Notes:  You’re a 27 year old military Lance Corporal. You’d think that’d be good thing, but on a covert mission gone south, will you ever get to go home? Or will you adapt and find comfort right where you are? oh, and maybe you hadn’t heard, apparently time travel is a thing?

Left. In. Right. Left. Out.

Feet pounding the dirt forest path. Child slung over your back. A wetness seeping over your clothes. Panic closing your throat. Your lungs burned inside your chest with every breath. This was your fault. Your responsibility. This was all your fault, the blood soaking through your shirt, having used your jacket to tie off the injury. The open wound. The small whimper and dry sobs didn’t sneak past you. She was trying not to cry, she was scared you were mad. Jesus knew you were furious, but not at her – never your baby sister. It wasn’t her fault, you were mad at yourself, how dare you think that going for a walk in the forest with her was safe. How fucking could you let this happen? Idiot!

You ran faster.

Over rocks and tree roots. Jumping and almost slipping on the wet stones across the creek, your feet slammed against the ground. She needed first aid, you didn’t think about it, didn’t think about the consequences – how stupid could you be? Letting her fall like that? Your feet pounded against the already compacted dirt ground. well-worn with time, the momentum slowly pushing to the point of toppling over. The path twisted on what felt like forever until you saw the tell-tale signs of nearing home. She could be bandaged up and she could stop bleeding if she hadn’t already. The crying that had started becoming louder, you could tell she couldn’t keep a brave face. But you were still so damn proud of her for being so strong, even when you were panicking.

You stepped over a log, running towards the edge of the forest and towards the back gate to your Aunt’s house, your home. Storming up to the door, you had to readjust your grip on your little sister as you got it open. Stepping inside as though you were a one-person army storming a castle, you ran over to the old leather couch you had spent too many nights sleeping on. Placing her carefully down so you wouldn’t put her in so much pain due to the jostling of having had ran about a half of a kilometre.

You rushed to the bathroom, around the corner at the end of the hall. You tore open the cupboard under the vanity, blood now covering the front of the cabinet. Yanking the first aid kit out and throwing yourself back to your sisters’ side, you scrambled to perform basic first aid as you took your cell-phone from your pocket. Your fingers slipped uneasily over the buttons, dialling triple zero. Each breath a struggle as you placed the warm, wet device between your shoulder and ear.

“[Y]--[Y/N]!” You hear her sob as you heard your phone tell you that it had insufficient funds to make the call. Regretting buying groceries this week now, aren’t you? You fucking pig. You pushed the thoughts away and tried again, weren’t emergency calls supposed to be free?

“It’s okay, Mari, it’s okay.” Your phone dialled out as you took her hand.

“Hello, you’ve reached triple zero, fire, police, or ambulance.”

“Hello? I need an ambulance! – my sister – she’s hurt.” You called into the phone as you shakily tried to cleaned her wounds – the amount of blood covering your hands was astounding. Etching into your mind like an iron poker.

“Hello? Is anyone there?” He couldn’t hear you – you looked at your phone, covering it with fresh blood from your hands, only one bar – shit. You didn’t know where to start. Your throat felt tight. It was becoming harder to breathe.

“My sister!” You repeated with urgency, voice cracking with desperation and thick with emotion as you tried to stop the bleeding. But everything was becoming quiet. You sisters cries, the sound of the man on the other end of the phone asking if someone was there.

You felt your shirt stick to your back with blood that wasn’t yours and covering your hands as you looked at her leg, foot at an awkward angle. What if it was broken? Oh god, what if you had broken her ankle? If your Aunt found out, she would kill you! Setting to work trying to make a splint for it in case, you tried your best to calm down, look at the situation logically. Remove your emotion and panic from the task at hand. It was so hard. You didn’t think you could do this. All you had was some duct tape, towels and the iron pokers from the fireplace. If you couldn’t get help, you’d try yourself. You had to help her. It was your fault. But you could fix this.

You wouldn’t be useless.

-

It had been eleven years since you made that promise to yourself, not to be useless anymore. Having joined the military ten years ago. You were a Lance Corporal, by official terms, denying any possible promotion to the title of Corporal due to your “lack of leadership ability.” Which was just to say that one of the higher ups didn’t particularly like you or your opinions. That didn’t stop you from working efficiently with your team and living life in the army – currently deployed for a twelve-month tour in Russia, due to the alliance the American president, one Mr. Trump, had formed with their government. You had been touring previously with American soldiers and it seemed the most logical source of action. Given the alliances of your country. Not that you agreed, you had family back home that you missed. God, what would it feel like to see them again after so long apart?

Walking out from the sleeping quarters into the open, cold air of the base, your attention was called to the main tent, the rest of your four-man squad already standing at attention in from=nt of your commanding officer. His sharp American accent carrying over to your ears, indicating that he was giving a briefing. It struck you as odd that you weren’t notified due to your seniority over them as squad leader. Making your way over, you adopted the same straight as a board stance they were already sporting. The glare from the commanding officer in front of you sent electricity across your skin, muscles tensing as he continued with the briefing he was addressing to your associates. Not an uncommon sight to your comrades.

“The facility is located here –” he pointed to a portion of the map with the coordinates 65◦38’17” North 99◦33’09” East. “Forty-Eight hours from now, you will report any note-worthy intelligence. Complications are to be dealt with quietly.”

He glared at each of you, announcing that you would be departing tomorrow morning at 0300 before your squad were each dismissed. To your dismay, not only had you missed most of the briefing, you were left standing there. The higher ranked officer looking you over as if you were the mud and slick that clung to the underside of the bases’ vehicles. The feeling in the air becoming threatening and so tense that it could be cut with a rusted knife.

“Watson, if you weren’t being deployed on this mission I’d tie you to a fucking tree and leave you to starve.”  His voice was low, malice dripping from every syllable, and changing position to stand directly in front of you. “You are the leader of a squad handling classified intelligences. I can’t have the weakest link in the chain be the fucking leader.”

You remained stoic, he was right after all and speaking was too dangerous in this situation. He might literally tie you to one of the trees littered around. Not that he hadn’t almost done similar before.

“I don’t want any complications. All mistakes will fall on you. I won’t have the rest of your team suffer because of your insolence. Is that clear?” You nodded.

“I said; is that clear, soldier.”

“Yes, Commander.”

“Better. Go clean the ACVs. Be prepped for departure – and don’t you dare be late.”

 ACV packed, and your squad loaded, you were filled in on the mission specifications. Russian science facilities were undergoing a security check due to allegations on a new type of tech being developed. The mission itself was new to you, but by no means was it against your line of work, however it still left you with a feeling of trepidation. There wasn’t much you could really gain in the first forty-eight hours if you were posing as security. You sat back and shut your eyes, rifle sitting in your lap, hands poised to pick it up and shoot if required. you needed to have at least a half hour of sleep or you’d be useless. You refused to be useless, besides. Your commander wasn’t breathing down your neck, and your ‘brothers-in-arms’ were already accustomed to your polyphasic schedule.

When you awoke, around two hours later, it was due to Jenks kicking at your feet. He had a smile on his face. “Can’t sleep for too long.”

“No shit, Sherlock.” You said to him, a small smile forming on your face.

“Fuck you, Watson.” He retorted. Your gaze momentarily turning to Mouse and Sprint. Of course, they weren’t their real names, but you accepted it as part of your day-to-day with them.

“How long until we get to Ground Zero?” you asked, rubbing your eyes and looking back to Jenks.

“Around four hours or so.” He nodded to your companions. “Boys wanted to get some sleep before we got there. Figured You’d keep me some company while we wait.”

“Fair. How’s the Mister?” You watched as his face lit up.

“Getting’ ready to adopt our kid in about six months. As long as everything here goes smoothly, I’ll probably get to go see Bubs get born.”

“’Get born’?” You repeated with a smile. “Best hope he doesn’t hear you talk like that. He’s probably correcting you all the way back in Texas now.”

He chuckled and looked down at his watch. “He’s probably asleep actually.”

“Figures. These time zones are a bitch sometimes.” You reached into your pocket and unfolded a piece of paper. Jenks looked at you.

“Yer looking at that little star again, aren’t you?” he asked, leaning forward.

You nodded and leaned forward, turning the photograph towards him. “Can’t go anywhere without at least one to brighten up my day. Why can’t I have this one in particular?”

“I can’t believe she was eight there. How old is she now?”

“She turns eighteen in a few weeks.” You smile at the photo. You wouldn’t miss her right now if you hadn’t have joined the army.

“Hey, what’s with that look?” He starts. “You’re lookin’ a bit depressed there.”

You look up at him, shaking away both your negative thoughts, and his concern. “It’s nothin’ really. Just don’t think I’ll be getting the all-clear to give her a call this year.”

“Can’t send her a letter?”

“Asters’ been holding mine, remember? I don’t know if she’s sent me any.” He nods at you.

“You’re not confident they’re getting out then?”

“Or if she’s changed her address.”

“Yeah…” he sighs and looks back to the photo. “Well, if I know you as well as I think I do. That’s not gonna stop yer stubborn ass from gettin’ back to her.”

You spoke with Jenks for the rest of the trip to the research facility, the topics ranged from your star back home, his husband, even the details you missed in the briefing. As it turned out, the intel on the facility had said something about some tests going wrong, and that they weren’t coming back with enough reports. It was suspicious, and, with the race to develop new tech, you could see how that could be perceived as a problem if you were working with another country. All it really did was remind you of group projects back in high school.

Arriving at the facility, you found the entire premises was empty and obviously ransacked, if the lack of security detail was anything to go by. The ACV was a few hundred metres south, leaving an impossible feat if you were shot at due to it being your only EVAC point. Sending half your squad around to the north of the premises, you made the decision to flank south, and look not only for survivors but for any potential threats. The gates were already unlocked upon arrival. Another candidate leaning towards a death sentence. You would ordinarily report this right away, but the radio chatter could be useless if the facility was deadening contact out of the premises.

This wasn’t something you would’ve seen yourself doing almost a lifetime ago, wearing sturdy boots, feeling too loose from not having retied them in a while. Nylon camouflaged military jacket, black shirt, and dark military pants, all of which was standard issue with a few modifications on your part. All whilst conducting highly dangerous work with the implication of no government help if any of your team was caught.

You swept the area, Jenks, your right hand doing the same to clear before moving on. The main floor of the facility looked to be a loading bay. Crates of equipment stacked up un neat piles around the general vicinity. A few had papers stuck to them, probably for organisation. However, no one was inside. It left the facility with an eerie feeling to it. The lights weren’t on, the sunlight filtering through to show the dust in the air, most of which was filtering from outside.

You turned on the torch at the end of your rifle, using it to clear the darker areas of the room as you walked over to a desk. You looked at the ground first, paper, pens and other potential intel scattered about. Crouching down, you looked down at the papers. Most of it had terrible handwriting scrawled along the pages. Some of it were what you assumed were types copies of different reports. You caught some names, but they meant nothing to you, or the mission at hand. You turned to the computer monitors. Turning one on, you were met with a blue light, a single line of test at the top left of the screen. It looked like that facility had power, but the computers themselves were useless.

You furrowed your eyebrows and continued, pressing the button on your communicator to inform your team of your findings. Frowning when you heard static, you continued onto another room. It was the server room for the floor, the casing around the hard drives, cables, and other equipment in building servers, ensured that none of the dust in the main room of the facility interfered with the servers. You took note and decided it was something you would have to set Mouse to hack and gather intel from. You spent a few minutes ensuring the room was clear in case there was something you had the potential to overlook.

Turning and exiting the room, you moved to the next one. The room looked to be a main office, which caught your attention immediately, an office you could work with. You searched through the small, ransacked room, under the desk, behind filing cabinets, clearing it of potential threats and any potential workers. Again, the room was empty. The feeling you got so far was increasingly suspicious, but your orders were clear, and if you didn’t come back with something you were sure that your Commanding Officer would make good on his promise. You didn’t fancy the idea of being tied to a tree. Not like it matters, you deserve it.

You started to go through the contents of the desk, there were a few forms that had only been half completed. The computer didn’t work, which you expected, what you found, however, was a schematic to the building. You look over the blueprint carefully, taking note of the different layout of each floor. There were three test labs, four server rooms, another two offices, and another loading bay. All set out in an extremely specific way.  You turned your attention to the contents of the draws, you found about what you’d expect. Paper, pens, manila folders with nothing in them. Nothing useful.

You couldn’t call it in, and there was no way to check in with your squad until you met them outside once again. You hadn’t heard any disturbances yet, but that didn’t mean there weren’t complications. With everything falling onto you as squad leader, you certainly hoped that there hadn’t been any interferences. You moved over to the filing cabinet, you pulled it open, the files inside were scattered and untidy. Some filing system. Just what had happened to the people in this facility?

You sorted through the files, looking at the titles, trying to find out what could have happened, and some useful info. So much of it was dated a good few years back. Perhaps research into whatever they were testing? The last file you picked up was dated around twelve months ago, and titled Project Streamline. The large ‘classified’ written over the text didn’t deter you from pulling it out and opening the file. It had schematics in it, but no real information. There had to be more information around here somewhere. The schematics were of a machine, perhaps if you could find it, you’d be able to find out more.

You took the contents of the folder, folding it and tucking it into your back pocket. Figuring that you would at least have something to show for this mission if nothing else. You searched through the rest of the floor but found nothing useful. You did, however, almost become trigger happy when Jenks footsteps registered in your ears on the second floor. When you saw him, he looked just as concerned at you felt.

“Jenks.” You said, voice low. “Anything?”

He looks at you and shakes his head, his voice matching your tone. “Nothing on this floor. Mouse needs to check the servers. Powers out though.”

“Top floor split?” you ask as the two of you find a staircase.

“Looks like we have to.” He places a hand heavily on your shoulder, nodding at you before heading left.

Turning right, you found what looked to be one of the test labs. You opened the door, the sound of the heavy door on strong hinges caused you to tense. Walking into the large space, you found stationary, research, equipment and general non-critical intelligence scattered everywhere. The room was mostly empty besides from the desk near the door, and the separation between the desk and the rest of the lab itself, linked by an internal door. A machine caught your attention, like nothing you had ever seen before. Well, not in person. You took the schematic from your pocket, unfurling it and placing it against the glass of the window separating the lab and testing desk.

It matched.

Your eyebrows furrowed as you walked over to, and pried open the heavy sliding door, the sound of it unsealing like a fridge door that hadn’t been opened for a long time. The air was stale, your bootsteps echoing much louder on the hard floor. Your gaze fell to clearing the room, despite feeling as though the room was empty. The room only held the machine in it. Standing in the middle of the room, you turned to the machine again – you knew that you really couldn’t hope to understand it just by looking at it, not that you had the time to do so.

A feeling of unease grew over you, something about this room was wrong. You took a few steps around the machine, tentative, with your rifle drawn, sweeping to re-clear the room. Boot-falls thudding as your gaze circled everywhere you had a clear view of. You had made your way to the middle of the room, next to the machine, investigating it now. Just what was it? You reached into your pocket, taking a small camera from your utility belt and took a few digital photographs of the machine. The schematics told you nothing of how it worked, just that it was. You weren’t sure what left you so uneasy, not knowing, or finding out.

Your eyebrows drew together as a gnawing began at your mind. It the suspicion that there were no staff present. Even more so that many doors were unlocked. The anxiousness that came with not knowing. Were you just that useless that you couldn’t find simple intel on the facility? You bit your lip, that couldn’t be it. You refused to be useless, not anymore. The movement of what sounded like the crumple of paper came from behind you.

Check your six, soldier.

You turned so fast that you slipped backwards. Grasping the first thing your hands could land on. Which happened to be the machine behind you. Everything stopped. A feeling of weightlessness and heaviness all at once as things felt too fast and too slow all at once. A force not unlike a freight train hit you, making you feel heavy and exhausted, body aching.

What the fuck was going on?

-

You awoke with an intense ringing in your ears. An ache running throughout your entire body. It started in your deadened feet, up your legs, torso, your arms, down through your fingertips, and up into your cranium. Light blinded you as you opened your eyes. Everything was sluggish and heavy, the sounds around you were overwhelming with the spiking headache hindering your senses. Everything felt so loud, so overwhelming. The air smelled synthetic, like fresh buildings. There was the sound of a car passing, it blew everything louder into your already over loaded ears. It was all so overwhelming, and you hadn’t even looked around properly yet.

The feeling of danger was suddenly prevalent. You pushed through the pain of your body, everything painful, the beat of your heart speeding up as adrenaline shot through your veins like lightning. Groaning, you forced your screaming muscles to just work with you. Give you a sense at what had happened. Figure out why it was so goddamned loud and overwhelming. Where even were you? Pulling your legs under you, one knee up with a foot flat on the ground. You pushed yourself up, everything begging you to just lay on the ground and give you a moment to recover. Your eyes slowly adjusted as you took the time to do this, gaze flicking around you. Heart picking up again, faintly causing you to wonder if you were going to have a heart attack.

You were on the corner of a street. Nowhere near the facility.  Everything was sleek, plants so green. It looked like the saturation of the world had been turned up. Everything hurt, and you were in a jarringly unfamiliar environment. The people wore clothes that you didn’t understand. The sun was bright, and your eyes hurt. Why did everything hurt?

You looked over yourself. Your jacket was torn, there was blood on your pants leg. Was it yours? You didn’t want to think about that, didn’t want to entertain the idea of having gotten yourself hurt. It would only slow you down. There were a few passers-by who simply walked past. They seemed as though they didn’t want anything to do with you. Their gazes politely snobbish. One passer-by did stop however, asking if you were alright, you think. The ringing was intense. You felt cool hands on you, disorientating you as you were pulled onto your feet. Your stance properly balancing out on your after a few moments, the dizziness becoming less overwhelming. You lifted your gaze to meet the person who pulled you up and almost fell all over again.

There in front of you, was what seemed to be a fully-functioning robot. No wires. No controllers. Nothing to suggest an external port in operating. It held the silhouette of a regular person, metal shaped like real limbs. Its face the only thing that really stood out as non-human despite the colour of its ‘skin.’ Such a sophisticated piece of technology was almost as jarring as the fact that you were in a completely foreign environment. Eyes widening, you stumbled back against the wall behind you. The robot looked at you with what you guessed was probably concern, head tilting a few degrees the right. It didn’t exactly have a moving facial structure. You reached into your holster and fondled clumsily for your sidearm. You aimed it at the ground between you, arms shaking. Attempting to force yourself to listen past the ringing which had dulled only enough to just make out individual sounds.

“Where am I?” you asked in a pointedly, if not highly distressed, voice that was somewhat hoarse. The robot seemed worried, almost flinchingly so. Unresponsive for several long seconds.

“You’re on the corner of King’s Row.” They responded, worry and fear in their AI voice. You grew confused, and significantly more distressed.

“Where the fuck is King’s Row?” You glared at the robot, who didn’t answer fast enough for your growing impatience. You raised the gun towards the sky and pulled the trigger. The sound, not unlike that of lightning rang out and echoed, leaving a painful jolt down your aching frame. A scream down the street alerted to that someone had seen, or heard you pull the trigger. You didn’t think so much as felt the panic that grew intensely within you, your heartbeat adding to the mix of sound in your ears. Gaze flicking around and back at the robot. “Where is the closest city?”

“Y-you’re in London.” The robot replied, voice panicked and arms out defensively in front of them, as if you were going to shoot them next.

London?!

The next thing you heard was the sound of police sirens in the distance, getting closer. You swore, for the umpteenth time and took off running. Gun gripped tightly in hand. Thoughts chastising you for making an idiot call. Shooting in the middle of a heavily populated area? Really? Legs screaming, knowing that you would be in for a hell of a time in whatever god forsaken reality you were in. Was all of this even real?

You turned down an alley way, finding the streets too open. Too vulnerable. It was too bright outside. You’d be spotted if you didn’t find a place to hide. But where would you even find that kind of solace? Maybe this was all a trick and you could go back… but back where? You couldn’t remember. It was foggy, too hazy to get a clear grasp. Maybe you hit your head a bit too hard. You knew you weren’t supposed to be in London.

Leaping onto a dumpster and over a wire mesh fence, you took a moment to assess your surroundings, legs screaming at you. There was a fire escape to your right, quite possibly leading to the roof of the building. A set of windows high above you on your left. The dank alley wasn’t more than about three metres. Maybe about 9 feet in width. You could make it. Moving under the fire escape, you jumped up onto an unstable box. You turned, crouching to balance and get the maximum amount of spring as you leapt up grasping the bottom bar of the retracted metal ladder. The pile of boxes falling over. Swinging your hands, and using your legs for momentum, you started to climb. It was hard, body protesting in the dangerous situation you had placed yourself in. But adrenaline was a hell of a drug.

On the sixth rung up you pulled your legs up onto the platform. The sirens were louder now. You could hear the law enforcement officers shouting to each other as they searched for the one who had been shooting. Looking for you. Climbing up the stairs towards the higher floors of the building, you ducked behind plants, crates, anything that could potentially serve as cover from the view of the officers below. Only a few more floors now and you’d reach the top floor of the building. All the while, your body down to your bones continued to beg, to stop. You counted your footsteps and ran as quietly and quickly as possible.

One, two, three, fo--

You heard a shout. looking down, you saw one of the officers walking down the alley you had come down, on the other side of the fence. Dammit. You got down as low as you could, moving behind a crate covered by a cloth, probably used as a table. You watched as he inspected they alleyway. They looked like the other robot you had encountered earlier. It sent a shiver down your spine, anticipation growing as goose bumps flared over your skin. Would they spot you? If you were arrested there was no way you could explain your situation. You weren’t supposed to be here.

You chanced crawling as quietly as you could to the next level, taking advantage of the cloth at the top of the stairs. You chanced a look. The officer was scanning the fire escape. You held your breath, blood like ice in your veins as you pressed yourself flat against the side railing. Your legs turning to lead. The ringing in your ears an annoyance that left you wondering how long you had to wait until you could move once again. Your hands were shaking, this was different than being out on the field. It was in a city. This wasn’t an open field or a sweltering forest. It was a city full of people.

You cast your gaze to the floor above you, the top level of the fire escape, and thus, the access to the roof. Somewhere they wouldn’t be able to see you from the ground. The thought of being away from the eyes of the police, in an environment you didn’t feel was safe at all what short lived as the sensation of being watched flooded your senses. You froze. You had to find a work around. A plan B. A way out of the eyes of the authorities.

You looked at the floor you were on. There wasn’t really anything you could use, was there? There were potted plants, tarps and other items that were too large to throw. Your eyebrows furrowed. You had to have something small. Preferably that would create a large enough distraction to take the officers’ attention for several seconds. But what did you have that you do that? You looked down at your hands, and then down at yourself. Your pistol sat in its holster. Your pistol, it had bullets in it, obviously, but would they provide enough of a distraction?

You took the clip from the handle and sat the pistol in between your legs, eyebrows furrowing as you carefully removed two bullets from the clip. You placed them into your pocket as you reloaded the clip into your pistol, returning it to its’ holster. You turned your gaze behind you, looking carefully to the alley way. The had to be a certain trajectory you could take to get at least one of your bullets to land in a way that would lead to your escape.

You found that the ringing was back as you tried to think, you could hear each breath you took, deep and anxious. You could almost see the calculations you were making in your head, written out for you to take in any and all contingencies. You took the first bullet out of your pocket and threw it, aiming for the pavement behind the officer.

Ducking, you heard a small, sharp pop. You chanced a look out to where the officer was standing, he was turned around, walking towards the street to investigate. You carefully went up the stairs, the movement itself causing more protesting from your aching legs.

At the top level of the escape, you looked down again, the officer was still facing his back to you. Leaning back, you let out a quiet breath. Looking up to see how far you had left to climb before you’d be seated on the roof. Another three metres roughly. You didn’t think you’d make it that far, not with the fresh blood you could feel on your leg, and the dull ache settling in your already exhausted bones. Maybe if you just rested for a minute, you’d be fine.

 You awoke once again to a someone patting your cheek, distinctively British accent trying to talk to you. Senses becoming overloaded, you felt the cool air against your skin, the quieter sound of pedestrians and other civilians, the same synthetic tinge to the air, the warmth of their hand. The feeling of danger and insecurity filled you as you opened your eyes, noting the darkness of evening. You took hold of the persons’ wrist with your left hand, glaring up at them, and reaching for your weapon. The person in front of you, was, in fact, a young woman. Her eyes covered by a type of orange safety googles.

“Hello, love. Are you alright?” She asked, her voice laced in a cheerful sort of concern. She didn’t seem too worried about the grip you had on her wrist. She looked like she was used to this sort of encounter. You took half a moment to take in your surroundings while she awaited an answer. Still seated on the fire escape.

“M’fine.” You croaked out, voice rather hoarse, throat like sandpaper. You weren’t in optimal health. The young woman in front of you looked rather surprised at you for a moment, until you shifted. Upon sensing the pain, your hand tightened its grip on her wrist. God, it hurt. What the hell happened to you? It wouldn’t have slipped past her if you wrote ‘I’m wrecked’ on your forehead in big, block letters.

“Are you hurt?” She asked, voice an attempt at reassuring. Her free hand falling gently on your shoulder. Her gaze running over you to look for injuries. You however, were pushing yourself into the wall at this point. You were caged by her concern. You didn’t know who the strange, all to ready to help woman was. For all you knew she was going to arrest you.

Heart beating faster, you made the most instinctive, impulsive and stupid move possible. you brought your legs up quickly and used your feet to harshly send her sprawling backwards, limbs protesting with both effort and strain it caused. You looked around as the young woman got her bearings, you climbed onto the railing and pulled yourself up. Panic and adrenaline overbearing the pain of moving. You set both feet on the roof before she could grab at you. However, a few steps across the new vantage point, she appeared in front of you in a flash blue. You stumbled, and she grasped your hands before you could fall back, sending a jolt of pain up your arms. Your skin on fire, and joints wanting to come undone. Her gaze was a little annoyed, but still rather confused, if not concerned.

“Love, I’m just trying to help. I can get you some help if you’re hurt.” She sighed, as she regained her cheery composure. “What do ya say, hm?”

Would it be so bad to just accept the help from this concerned stranger? She did appear out of nowhere, and she was dressed rather strangely. Don’t be stupid your mind chastised. You shook your head, you weren’t going to accept her help.

“Don’t be daft,” she tried to reason, her hands tightening their grip on you to tug forward so you could stand on your feet. “Let’s get you some help. It looks like you did a number on your leg.”

Your mind raced as she spoke to you, it felt condescending, like you had to be coddled like a child. You didn’t want to go with her, it felt unsafe. You shook your head, body moving before you could think it through properly. Hands twisting to removed themselves from her grasp as you stepped back, rather stupidly forgetting that there was no surface in that particular direction – god, maybe you weren’t worthy of your rank.

Everything happened so slowly and yet so quickly all at once. The feeling of weightlessness falling over you again, only supplemented by the sense of being pulled down farther than you had been standing. The woman in front of you became aware of your stupidly self-inflicted situation. You heard her voice, but not her words as air rushed over you and past your ears. A flash of blue and a rather hard bump on the head was all you processed before blacking out..

-

The young British woman, Tracer, felt bad. When she found you lying on the fire escape, she thought that you might’ve been looking for a place to sleep. It wasn’t the most uncommon sight in the world – seeing someone who could’ve been regarded as homeless. Your clothes had been torn and were, admittedly, rather dirty. What else was she supposed to think? Waking up and hearing your voice had been a shock. Her initial though was that maybe you were drunk, but she hadn’t found the scent of liquor on you. That only meant one thing.

You were Australian.

She wasn’t sure what had surprised her more, your nationality, accent, or the fact that you weren’t loud and uncivilised like the people left behind back in your home country. It made you somewhat of a rarity in her line of work. Her caring nature left her with the desire to help you, she knew you were in pain, and when you fell, an unsightly gash on your head opened. She had to get you help.

She had known she couldn’t go to the hospital, should she be recognised and arrested due to her not exactly legal heroics. So, instead she had taken you to the relatively underground, Overwatch safehouse in London. Her friend, and partner on duty, Lucio, had been stationed with her, their investigation leading them to London, where she found you. Which, in her line of work, had been complete luck.

That’s what lead to now, a week after she had found you. Tracer seated outside the infirmary of the New Overwatch HQ facility. Resident medic on the scene, having not allowed anyone near you since you were admitted into her care. Of course, that hadn’t stopped Tracer from asking after you, for your progress. Even if you’d be up and walking around soon. Sadly, nothing had come of it besides from the fact that the doctor had put you into an induced coma while she did tests and administered what she thought was the best treatment to get you up and running again.

Tracer really couldn’t get the look on your face out of her head either. Shock, pain, and then anger all mixed into a horrible expression of someone who looked cornered. Had she made you feel like that? Backed you to far that you felt like you had to run away? It brought to her an understanding as to why you had reacted the way you did. Kicking her off you like that. She could tell you were strong from the force in it.

Maybe she’d get the chance to ask you. Well, not until you were in good health. Besides, maybe you would grow to hang around and talk to her about it all on your own. Even sign up to the new overwatch once you were well enough? She certainly hoped so.

“Lena.” Doctor Ziegler called for her, suddenly derailing her train of thought. Her gaze snapped up to the doctor who was looking down at a file with her eyebrows furrowed.

“How is she, Angela?” Was the first question out of her mouth, concern evident as she stood, the expression on her face earnest.

“Tell me again, where did you find the young woman?” Angela’s pen tapped against your file.

“Out in King’s Row. After the posting in France. We had to go to London.” Lena’s gaze fell to you, lying in one of the hospital beds in the infirmary.

“And you said you found her unconscious?”

“Yes. And, as I said in my report, when I was trying to help her, she had a dreadful fall. Hit her head against the railing of a fire escape.” She watched as Doctor Zeigler furrowed her eyebrows, rubbing her fingers against her temple and turning to walk into the infirmary. Lena following her. The room itself filled with familiar scanners, monitors, medical equipment and the smell of disinfectant.

“I have some concerns.” Angela’s voice was strained, as though she hadn’t been sleeping. Lena furrowed her eyebrows.

“Concerns? What’s wrong? Is she going to be alright?” Her questions only caused a tired sigh from Doctor Ziegler. She watched as she ran her fingers through some of her blonde hair, tucking some behind her ear. Angela walked to her desk, the sound of your constant heart beat filling the room ofr a few moments. Tracer found a number of files stacked neatly on the desk.

“I’m not certain of her condition. I will have to consult Winston about this.”

“Talk to Winston… what’s wrong with her?”

“Her ribs are bruised, I have mended the wound in her leg. Her other minor injuries have healed rather well so far. However, it is her mind… despite the injury… there is an abnormally large amount of activity in this coma she is under.” She had started mumbling to herself as she looked over her reports and data. “It is moderately alarming.”

“Why is that concerning?” She asked, a slight bit confused. How was having an overactive brain a bad thing? “Wouldn’t that be a good thing?”

Angela runs her hands over her face, the lines painted over her face from stress only added to her look of exasperation as she looked down to the file she had. Mostly full of scans, the information Lena had told her, and a list of your personal effects. “It is… unclear, at this stage, Lena.”

“You’ll be able to fix her up, though, won’t you?”

“We shall see.” Ziegler told her, flipping over to a new page. “If she wakes.”

[joshterry]

there are no ugly women in oxford, mississippi & other thoughts on anxiety & taking a break

2 days ago i made a very out of character, last minute decision… i decided i was going to take a vacation… and i was going to take it in 2 days…and i didn’t give zero craps what anyone thought of it. i made the decision on my drive into work and the first thing i said as i walked in the door to my staff was “hey guys i don’t mean to freak you out, but i’m going out of town on friday for 6 days. cool?”

i gotta admit my employee & our interns were a little surprised. i’m a pretty predictable person, i love routine, i like schedules and i tend to think most of my decisions are pretty calculate and planned out over a long period of time specifically to make sure no one gets affected - i like that about myself and i think others like it about me too, it’s part of what i think makes me steady. so i didn’t really know how they’d react. this decision however was different, i just felt in my gut i needed to disappear for a bit and i needed to do it suddenly. i shouldn’t have been surprised by this but they (along with all my clients) were very supportive of it. i think everyone probably felt “yea you’ve been a little abrasive lately, get out of here you lunatic.” i don’t say enough lucky i am to get to work every day with people who not only have such strong character but also care for me seem to be able to tolerate my own unique brand of “crazy person.”

traveling’s always been a big part of my life and the past few years i’ve tried to take one vacation a year that’s non-work related. because of my job i’ve gotten to travel all over the word to a lot of big cities & cool places. i’ve been blessed with travel to 49 states (minus alaska, which is just cold and i don’t do cold) and several international countries. so to do something a little different for actual vacations for personal enjoyment one of the things i started doing that’s served me well is i now exclusively go to places i assume others wouldn’t go on vacation to. i’ve been to boone, north carolina, savannah, georgia, athens, georgia, and mobile, alabama over the years. there’s just been something comforting about planting myself in a very small, beautiful southern city for a few days and forgetting my “problems.” these trips always refresh me in a way that the big cities or beaches just don’t. there’s not a lot to do, and you’re forced to just soak in the local culture, talk to regulars and it’s easy to disappear and feel like you don’t have to be “on." my friend leslie who i’ve known since i was in middle school has been offering me for months to come use her family’s vacant home in oxford, mississippi. it’s only 4 hours away from nashville and it’s actually one of the few cities in america i’ve never been to. so on a whim i hit her up on wednesday & asked if if the offer still stood. she said yes, gave me a ton of ideas of things to do and places to eat at, and said “the place is yours, here’s where you’ll find the keys.”

i’m sitting on her couch right now in the quaint little house & i’ve got to say it feels like exactly what i need at this moment.

so why does someone who has amazing friends & family, owns their own business that gives him a lot of freedom and flexibilty in his life need a sudden vacation you might ask? what’s so urgent you whiney 1% whitey? well truth be told i don’t quite know. the funny thing is nothing’s really going wrong. work is good - my business continues to grow, my acts are busy, i’m wanting to sign a lot more things too, i’m not burned out at all (which i gotta say is unusual because i have my hands in a lot of things), and my stress level because of all that is super managable and surprisingly quite low. my personal life couldn’t be going better - i’m in the best health, both physically and mentally, of my life. and i’m being as social as a person like me gets - going out regularly, making plans with friends, seeing lots of movies & more concerts than normal, dating regularly (which comes with its good & bad). so as i evaluate everything on the surface (which yes i do, i’m a dork), nothing really feels disconnected.

but something was feeling off for the past month. i just haven’t been inspired and i’m a person who does need inspiration to feel like i’m growing. i’ve been working hard on my personal life & my professional life but not getting the overall satisfaction from everything i’ve wanted. i think we all go through that though, right? little things that normally wouldn’t affect me were really getting under my skin. anyone who knows me knows that i hate listening to people complain about their problems when they have no solutions in mind on how to improve their situations, i call those kinda people toxic venters and for some reason i was getting surrounded by the marvel avengers of toxic venters lately. i was starting to feel manipulated, taken advantage of, and just honestly like everyone was being rude, self absorbed pieces of crap with no concern for what it was like for me having to be the person taking on their burdens. but instead of saying “i’ve had enough” i’d just listen and try to help, all the while knowing none of them wanted my help. the truth is none of these people are bad people, some of their actions i admit were questionable but i should have felt honored that they were coming to me with their problems, but instead i started to get resentful. i was also feeling quieter and less willing to show myself in situations. most people that know me realize i can be very extroverted, not at a loss for words & able to sit genuinely with who i am. anyone who knows me really well though, knows just how introverted i actually am. my normal preference is to be home in the quiet and not having to be “on” for everyone. being social takes work for me, being in quieter places where i can be more internal is where i feel more at home. and again none of this is unusual. i work in music, everyone’s problems are the biggest deal in the world (please note i say that sarcastically, because really some of y’all are silly with the garbage you get fixated on and very few problems that involve “music” are actual problems in the grand scheme of things) and i’ve learned over the years sometimes you gotta let people get their stuff out so they can get out of their own heads and start thinking more pragmatically & not make emotional (also read “dumb”) decisions.

the other thing that was messing with my head is i was also getting really sick from traveling, not just like “ugh i hate traveling” kinda sick where i snap mean spiriting pictures and post them on instagram from airports, but actually physically sick. on a trip back from LA i got what felt like the early signs of the flu, on a trip to portland several days later my ears wouldn’t pop which gave me a migraine and i felt like i was going to throw up the entire time at the show. on a trip to new york a few weeks later, i started getting crazy anxiety on the flight there and then awful motion sickness once we landed. for someone who has traveled as much as i have in my life, all of this just felt super, super off. i started feeling helpless on these trips mostly because i knew once i was on the ground i needed to power through meetings and have impactful time with my bands and the people working for me. then all of that spread from work to just general social settings. the thought of going to parties, having meet ups with friends or even attending work related events or concerts started stressing me the hell out, like anxiety you wouldn’t believe. and again none of it made sense, when i’d get there everything was fine, i’d have a good time, but man the "getting there" part was awful. all i could think about was i didn’t want to talk to people who were going to just talk about themselves, or worse yet were going to want something from me. part of the draw backs about working in a city where your profession is the focal point of the city is the amount of mooches per capita who are looking for hand outs is overwhelming. i had a show in nashville a few weeks ago & i couldn’t even keep up with the amount of hangers on-ers that came up to me (and i reiterate these are people who never talk to me unless they need something) and they were all looking for work or advice on some bad idea they had that they’ll likely never execute because (and this is going to sound harsh) they’re not good enough to keep their own jobs or see their own ideas through because they let their personal crap get in the way of them completing things or just being a professional in general. sorry i said it - fake that til you make that why don’t you. so saying all of that, because of feeling sick, anxious and frustrated i started feeling like a bad version of myself. i didn’t want to be that grumpy person that everyone was like “what’s wrong with that dude” & i noticed i wasn’t being as positive as i wanted to be with others and worse yet, i didn’t feel like i was as fun to be around or even funny (and y’all, all humility aside, lets be real... i’m hilarious, so if i don’t feel like i’m funny in public, somethings wrong).

so off to oxford, mississippi, i went this morning in my car and after a brief stop in memphis to check out graceland (which by the way did you know elvis has a whole bunch of stuffed animals in his living room & a freaking jesus statue with his name on it right in front of his grave and that junk is wild) i pulled into the driveway. only a few hours later, as cliche as it might sound, i could just feel my soul feeling settled.

i had a wonderful dinner at a place called snackbar and then just spent a few hours walking around the square in downtown oxford. looked around square books & picked up a few things i’m going to read this week while i put my phone on airplane mode & ignore as many emails and text messages as i can. i popped into proud larry’s - a bar & music venue that some of my very first bands used to play every other month which gave me a very comforting and reassuring "how far i’ve come/nostalgic trip down memory lane” kinda vibe. i was able to settle in & remember that even back then i was also an entrepreneur, albeit a really green and probably bad one, but as i sat there and had my drink i could remember how i felt back then. so full of possibility, so full of life. the little things didn’t bother me and i was reminded how many doors opened for me just because i was willing to put in the work, how open i was to collaborating with others and letting them into my life, and how it felt like i had a new idea every day and wasn’t afraid to execute them because of financial concerns or even dumber how i’d be perceived. i just did me, and doing me worked out.

i’m looking to a few days of solitude this week. i’m going to write a lot, read a lot, watch movies and just explore & visit places & do things that are fun to me. did i mention there are zero ugly women in oxford? ZERO! jenn - we might need to open a satellite office here, just sayin’ :) enjoy your next week of work suckers :)

[notesfromthepen]

INAPPROPRIATE

     Weinstein, Al Franken, Louis CK, Tom Cole, Blake Farenthold, Matt Lauer, Charlie Rose, Donald Trump. The list goes on and on. I wonder where this road lead is leading. But first a disclaimer:

Predatory sexual behavior is not okay. Sexual assault is not okay. Sexual harassment is not okay. Abuse of power and aggression towards women is definitely not okay. In no way am I demeaning these very serious things. And in no way am I excusing these behaviors. Or mitigating the actions of the perpetrators.

     I humbly make this disclaimer as a plea for conversation. To say that we should never be above a worthy discussion or deem a subject below our effort. I only ask for a discussion free from the dogmatic judgment and reactionary anger that clouds the conversations in our society. 

Too often, at the first chance we get, we label any person or idea as either friend or foe, no matter how premature or inaccurate these labels may be. Some of you may even be doing this as you read these words, even before I've said much of anything. I simply wish, as much as is possible, to make observations about these 'hot button' issues without stirring the self righteous rage or reactionary indignation that drowns out voices and blinds our vision. 

This is just a plea, to put down our preconceived notions and emotional baggage, so that we can talk about the issues that we face as a society. Because we must come to some understanding.

This disclaimer might be misleading and it's unfortunate that it is even necessary. It might lead you to assume that I will have an offensive position or controversial stance. Something that will stir the preverbal pot, but this isn't the case, or at least it isn't intended to be. I sincerely pose these questions with humility and compassion, intended, only to spark conversation. I have no real agenda or preference for the out come or the answers put forth. 

I've come to see that our need to view issues as either 'completely black or white' is more of an illusion than a reality. So once again it is our responsibility to hash out the causes, the repercussions, and the solutions to the problems we face. 

We all know that this type of sexual behavior is a problem, or at least we should, but almost everyone I hear seems to be content with just claiming a superficial outrage. This is the safest and easiest stance but it does little in the way of a pragmatic analysis of the root causes and possible solutions to these harmful actions. Unfortunately this is all too common these days: Safe and easy, over, difficult but necessary.

Regardless of our preferences, there must be a line drawn when it comes to the issue of indecent sexual behavior. Especially in the work place. This piece is me, simply wondering out loud, where the line is to be drawn and what the consequences should be for crossing it. My attempt at a conversation that I can't have in here.

With that being said I want to make a prediction: That the nearly constant revelations of celebrities accused of sexual harassment will not stop anytime soon. At some point I think we will find that, in many instances, if we dig deep enough and reach back, far enough into someones past, that most people have had at least one moment worthy of shame, disgust, and embarrassment, depending on where our ever changing level of acceptable behavior currently settles. Especially when it comes to something as complex as human interaction.

Because most men, at some point in their lives, are flawed, confused, flailing idiots, stumbling through life trying to figure out how to deal with other complex people within social conventions. All while trying to figure out how to orchestrate the awkward, nuanced, and often ridiculous dance of courtship and sexuality. And like most bumbling idiots, many people get it wrong. 

It's obvious that, 'getting it wrong' or making mistakes is entirely different, than a habitual pattern of sexually aggressive or abusive behavior. I'm just wondering how low the bar will be set for an 'indecency' worthy of severe repercussions. If set low enough, we will find, few who are able to clear it.

OK, as I'm writing this, with my TV on in the background, more details involving the Matt Lauer accusations are being revealed and I can no longer continue this piece in the same direction without addressing these overt behaviors. I still have the same questions but his actions are ridiculous, seemingly ongoing, and overtly irresponsible. This asshole distracted me from my whole point. 

So with that being said I guess I'm going to have to be completely specific with my references as not to be confused with these types of acts. Dropping your pants and expecting someone in the workplace to give you a blow job or giving a sex toy as a secret Santa gift with a detailed and explicit note of suggested use is pretty indefensible.

But I guess that brings me to my first question: Are all acts of sexual harassment/inappropriateness equal? I'd assume not. First of all we must make clear that sexual assault is different than sexual harassment, which is different than sexual indecency, right? One is criminal in nature another other is 'wrong' and out of place in nature, and the last is 'creepy asshole' in nature. No doubt they are all wrong in varying degrees.

When it comes to, say Al Franken pretending to honk a pair of boobs over a flack jacket vest while smiling for a photo, compared with Matt Lauer having a secret button installed on the desk in his office, allowing him to lock the door without getting up, so he could drop trow without worry of a coworker escaping before getting a regrettable eyeful of 'unwanted Lauer', Are they equal? And if they're not equal, should the punishment or repercussions be the same across the board? 

The next question is: where do we draw the line? Sexual assault, is clearly not okay. Sexual harassment? Not okay. Sexual 'indecency'? This is where we need to figure out where to draw the line of what is unacceptable. And once we deem something unacceptable is it also unforgivable?

This is where things can get blurry. Indecency, is relative. Right? What one person views as acceptable behavior, another may deem as offensive or indecent. And if a vague 'indecency' is where the line in the sand is drawn, we will continue to see men of every position, in every industry, of every age and of every class outed as predators and ousted from their place of employment. Because, by definition, nearly every man, at some point in his life, has probably done something that could be considered sexually indecent. Depending on where you set the bar. 

A major part of the problem that we face is that people want to have sex. It's a fact of life. It is THE fact of life. And as long as people have this desire, the initiator of an unreciprocated advance will wind up as the asshole in the situation. Which is fine, I guess, but should the consequences, no matter how far in the past or regardless of the severity, be: public shaming and the taking of livelihood? 

I'm honestly asking because I'm not sure that we are all on the same page.

Should Lauer lose his job? If the allegations are true, which they seem to be. Absolutely. Should Franken lose his job, for an 'indecent' though obviously non malicious, prank photo? I'm not so sure. If he was asleep and a female comedian, like Amy Schumer, posed for a picture pretending to grab his ass, or crotch, should she lose her job? Is there a double standard? Should there be?

Another aspect that makes this subject less clearly defined is the 'wanted' versus 'unwanted' advances. 

Can a phrase or act be defined as appropriate or inappropriate depending on the reaction of the recipient? If that's the case, it can be a roll of the dice whether or not an advance is looked on as innocent flirting or an unwanted act of sexual indecency. And, in those questionable situations, where it is unknown whether or not an advance would be reciprocated, what should one do? Is the appropriate response to never risk it? This seems to be the intelligent and responsible way to behave in a professional setting, and that is fine. Why risk it?

If we do draw a clearly defined line between appropriate and inappropriate sexual behavior, is the line retroactive? Can someone, who committed an act of insensitivity or made a tasteless advance twenty years before the line was drawn, be held responsible for a line that he or she didn't know existed at the time?

I ask these things with honest curiosity. Because these are the questions that we need to answer as a society if we are to move forward. I worry that without some honest and pragmatic discussion, free from overwhelming emotion, we will get caught up in a reactionary lynch mob mentality, in which we will blindly equate all acts of indecency, sexual harassment and sexual assault. In our understandable fervor and outrage, will we lump together any person who has made a crude joke, an insensitive comment, or idiotically misread a situation at some point in the past, with those guilty of sexual assault or rape?

I want to make a few things clear: When it comes to sexual harassment and indecency, the bar must be moved to reflect the equality that we like to consider ourselves worthy of. No one should have to deal with such avoidable bullshit in the workplace. Assault of any kind, and specifically sexual assault, is unacceptable and we, as men, must listen and be empathetic to the experiences of women, both in and out of the work place. We as human beings must listen to each other, no matter our differences of; race, age, sexual orientation, or gender. For, without the ability to view the perspectives of others, we will continue to be brothers and sisters divided. Don't ever think that this need for a glimpse into someone else's perspective doesn't apply to you. It does. Victim or perpetrator, hero or villain, male or female, black or white, none of us are above our responsibility for empathy. And I pray that none of us are above the desire for more understanding. 

What does it mean, that sexual indecency, sexual harassment, and sexual assault is unacceptable in the entertainment industry but is acceptable when it comes to our politicians? Where are we as a country when we ask more from our celebrities than from our elected officials? 

The fact that numerous accounts of alleged sexual assault isn't enough to disqualify someone from the highest office in our county, disheartens me to the chances of reaching an agreement of what is acceptable and unacceptable sexual behavior. When pedophilia can't be agreed upon as a disqualifier when running for senate, as the nominee of a major political party, then what are our chances for agreement? 

This is yet another symptom of refusing to look objectively at issues. We have become so tribal and so unwilling to do anything against those we view as our 'team mates' or 'tribal members', that we have placed tribe loyalty over our own morals, decency, virtue and justice. 

So without the leaders worthy of leading or, more importantly, without the citizens capable of viewing issues objectively enough to intelligently elect the officials, worthy of the positions they seek, it is left to us. 

The responsibility is on those of us capable of putting our egos, our emotions, and our tribalism to the side to discuss the issues we face. As difficult as it maybe, as uncomfortable as it may feel, we must do the work of engaging in honest discussions of any and all subjects. We mustn't use shame or spite as weapons. We must remove the vitriol and emotion in order to pragmatically discuss, and, or debate, in order to agree upon a direction to move in.

So where is this road headed? There is no doubt that a reckoning is taking place. A reckoning that stems from a righteous cause.. But I wonder, is there anyone at the helm? Is it being steered or guided by anything other than raw emotion and vengeance? And if not, haven't we learned anything from the past? 

When a movement is left to be driven by emotion, vitriol, self righteous indignation, and the fervor of a mob like mentality, no matter how genuinely positive its roots are, it always loses its purity and becomes ugly in it's results. Such a powerful and unguided motor inevitably pulls unintended and undeserving victims into its gears, crushing them under the justification of a righteous cause. 

The true righteous and lasting endeavors of history were compassionate to all involved. Oppressed and oppressor, victim and perpetrator. Martin Luther King, Gandhi, and Jesus, all let the righteousness speak for itself to enact the lasting change that was necessary. Their missions were never tainted by the smog of emotion, because they realized the tendencies of human nature, to become defensive and to relinquish control to such strong emotions. 

As transparency grows, seemingly exponentially, with the information and accessibility of the internet, I suspect that we may eventually be brought together by our common bond, of our flawed nature. As time passes, our weakest moments and our, once secret, indiscretions will become exposed. And as terrifying as this may sound, I believe it can be a good thing. Hopefully this vulnerability will shower us with some much needed humility. With such raw exposure maybe we'll have less places to hold our critiques and less right to pass judgements.

Here in this present moment, in the midst of this reckoning, we must be willing to learn and also willing to teach. We have to come together to understand the affect that our words and actions have on our sisters and brothers. We have to discuss the parameters, with reasonable expectations, for defining unacceptable behavior. 

Or better yet we should teach and practice empathy, so that there isn't a need for a universal, all encompassing rule to guide our every circumstance with every person. This way we can treat each other as fellow human beings and discover where each persons individual boundaries lie. Where we can get to know and understand each other. Maybe we can stop seeing each other as objects or villains and we can listen to each other. 

Hopefully we can also release our expectation to go through life without being offended. Bad things happen to everybody and though this fact shouldn't stop us from doing what we can to curb these experiences, and hold people accountable, but it should prevent us from being irrevocably damaged and defined by those negative experiences. There is a huge difference in perspective between a survivor mentality and a victim mentality. 

This life is a chaotic, messy, and often painful ride. We all are a part of this experience, where none are veterans and all are rookies. The best we can do is to lean on each other (please, no groping!) using compassion, empathy, brutal honesty, and love to learn from our mistakes, fix what we have broken, and to become better brothers and sisters to one another.

This is just my plea. A plea for conversation...