#she just gets flats cause shading her face paint is a NIGHTMARE

[knavestrolls]

And now Jugular's got sprites thanks to @ridiculousfantrolls' base! that body type was perfect for my girl,,

[yandere-wishes]

🕌 A Whole New World // Yandere Kalim Al-Asim x Reader//🕌

Worst thing I’ve ever written 😭  😭 😭 😭 But it’s out before the new chapter so I’m content lol.

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"Oh my isn't it amazing?" (y/n) hugged the book closer to her chest an excited squeal leaving her lips as she laid down flat on the plush Persian carpet. Kalim crawled over to where she was abandoning his conversation with Jamil and half-eaten sandwich. "What'cha reading," the young prince asked curiously. 

(y/n) lazily cracked open an eye, her bright smile ever-present. "It's the 1001 Arabian nights! The one by that famous storyteller from the Land of Hot Sands! " Her voice held a dreamy tone. Kalim's eyes widen in some sort of foreign comprehension. Nostalgia flashed in his marigold orbs. "Jamil! Do you remember those stories from when we were little?" His head wiped around, eyeing his childhood friend. The black-haired youth-only nodded absentmindedly as he chewed on his sandwich. "Jamil use to read me one of the Arabian night's stories before I went to bed each night!" Jamil just hummed in agreement, he seemed too wrapped up in intentionally ignoring the conversation. 

Kalim flopped on his back, arms pulled back acting as a pillow. His eyes never once left your frame, his piercing gaze was practically glued to your body. "SO~~ Which one is your favorite?" his tone was light and cheerful, he just seemed so oddly happy. Brushing it off you guessed it might have just been the sentimentality talking. Mentioning those old stories must have stirred some childhood reminiscence. Your eyelids fluttered downwards, closing in thought as your mind raced through the countless stories you had consumed throughout the day. But there was one that seemed to shine rather brightly in your head.

"I guess the lovers of Bassorah, there's just a sort of hopeful ring to the whole story...It's hard to explain but it kinda proves that true love isn't just an open pathway. There are numerous difficulties that lovers must face before they can hold each other in their arms." When you finally opened your eyes again, you noticed that Kalim's grin had been replaced with a quizzical look.  His eyes scrunched, traversing between you and Jamil. Signing the older boy, he finally shuffled over to the two of you. He crossed his leg before explaining the story to Kalim. Realization dawned on the white-haired boy, you listened in wondering if Jamil had actually memorized the old folk tale. But as the story progressed there seemed something off about Jamil's retelling, something gritter, grimmer even...It was wrong, so wrong that it sent a flood of shivers up your spin. But a quick glance at Kalim made it obvious that the prince was not only undisturbed by the fables 

The sun had started to die quite some time ago. The sky was painted in bright melting colors that seemed to resemble sugary sweets. Jamil and (y/n) had started packing up the little picnic while Kalim sat and watched. His red eyes followed (y/n) as she nimbly picked up the plates and leftover food. She was so breathtaking, so enchanting, something about the way she moved and talked had poor little Kalim bewitched. He couldn't help the fantasies that kept sprouting in his mind. The longing to hug you close to his chest, to feel your warmth, breath in your scent.  He could imagine them so vividly that they were practically felt real. 

With a heavy sigh Kalim waved good-bye as the young girl walked away to her dorm room, book pressed close to her heart. 

Kalim watched with a  downhearted look as the last rays of sunlight screamed for help before being engulfed by the darkness of the night. Every couple of moments the young prince would tear his gaze from the starry tapestry to throw a childish lovesick complain to his childhood friend -who's body was beginning to tremble with visible annoyance- each nag circulated around the same premiss. "Why doesn't (y/n) love me?" over and over and over again. Really Kalim didn't mean to be a bother he was so wrapped up in his sorrow that he could bother to remember what words had slipped from his lips moments ago. It was well into the late-night when Kalim turned once more to Jamil his shoulders slumped, poster slagging. His mouth opened, but before any words could escape into the large room. Jamil stood up, feet stomping on the rug under him. Angrily Jamil marched over to Kalim his arms swinging before grabbing ahold of Kalim's shoulders. His long nails dug into the royal's shoulders. "Listen Kalim, I'm getting sick of this puppy crush of yours! Can you please just forget--" Jamil stopped mid-sentence, his grey eyes widening as a plan hatched in his mind, slithering around the most devious parts of his brain. A smirk formed on his chapped lips, "Kalim!" His excited tone reverberated off the walls. "Grab the flying carpet! We're going to get you a date!" Jamil ran for the door, picking up the dorm leader staff on his way. Kalim watched his friend race out the room, he remained stunned for a second before he ran after Jamil yelling; "But where do we keep the flying carpets?? Jamil! Help!" 

The cool night air washed over you, as you stood by the window, brush in hand, combing your messy locks. Your eyes carelessly jumped from star to star, soaking in their twinkling brightness. Each star seemed to sparkle a little more vividly when your gaze landed on it. It was almost like they were silently wishing you goodnight....or warning you about the secrets the night was hiding. 

You were shaken from your stargazing by the sound of a slamming door. You didn't think much of it, brushing it off as just being one your friends sneaking in for a late-night chat. Casually you turned around, only to be stricken by a wave of fear, slither across your lavish dorm room, was something out of a nightmare. A larger then life serpent was bolting for you, it's scales glittered in the chandelier light, flashing between shades of gold and ruby sometimes even turning as pitch black as a starless midnight. Its tongue flickered out sniffing the air then crashing back between its lips. For a fraction of a second, your eyes met, the monstrous snakes grey orbs seemed to be mocking you. You were sure that if he was able the monster would have been laughing at your distress. 

With each step you took in retaliation, the snake slithers forward, it's towering body was constantly looming over your petit frame. You were pushed up against the open window, no place left to hide. The snake was far to close, it's tongue grazed your cheek each time it darted outwards. You were finished, hopelessness was to the only feeling that floated through your body. You closed your eyes, ready to accept your fate. That was until a gust of cold wind blew across your face, carrying with it the sound of your name. At first, you kept your eyes closed, blaming it on your subconscious. But the noise of your name kept coming back to your ears. Finally, in a desperate attempt, you dared to turn away from the snake and spare a glance outside. Your eyes widen, hope bubbled in your gut. Standing outside your window floating on one of the infamous flying carpets was nonother than the dorm leader of Scarabia. 

"(y/n)!" his voice was like a god sent, pure melody to your ears. "Do you trust me?" His hand was extended palm awaiting your own hand. You didn't think for a moment, instantly you reached out and grabbed his arm, permitting yourself to be dragged out the glass-less window. Your knees hit the concrete of the outer wall as you tumbled onto the flying carpet. The carpet didn't miss a beat, the second your flesh hit the rug, it was off soaring into the dark night. 

The icy wind blew across your face, your body was pressed suffocatingly close to Kalim's as he navigated the flying tool across the clouds. Your heart was still pounding in fear, each beat reverberated through your bones adding an additional layer of panic. The hight and constant maneuvering of the carpet did little to ease your stress. Nether you nor Kalim had spoken since the journey began. You bite your lip waiting for him to make the first move. To say something, anything! However, what ended up breaking the silence was rather unexpected joyous laughter coming from your companion. "That was a pretty convincing show that Jamil put on wasn't it (y/n)?" there was no malice in his tone if anything it came off more as if this was all a game. A young child laughing after a good game of hiding and seek.

You turned to Kalim with a shock written all over your face. "WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT! I JUST GOT ATTACKED..." Your breath caught in your throat, your lungs where heaving trying to pull in more oxygen to no avail. It only now began to dawn on you just how high up the two of you had gotten. Kalim must have also been facing the same problem as the leaned his weight to the front of the carpet, causing it to accelerate downwards. You let out a shrike of terror, arms wrapping around the white-haired youth. "that’s overexaggerated, it’s really isn’t that big of a deal”

Your eyes widened how could he not think that this was a big deal. It didn't matter wither that snake was really Jamil or not, the shock was real, the fear was real. "Is this some sort of cruel joke!" you yelled. Kalim shot you a confused look, one of his hands reached up to entwine his fingers in your flowing locks. “But I thought you said this kinda thing was hot!“ Kalim genuinely sounded both hurt and confused. His eyes were pooled with deep sadness. You gulped "What are you--" your memory flashed back to the stories the two of you had discussed earlier that morning. In each story, the protagonist had to stage some sort of clever catastrophe to earn their lover's affection. In multiple stories, the hero always lore their lover into some sort of danger then swoop in and save them. That was had happened, Kalim had tried to show you that he loved you by both putting your life in danger and saving it. "Kamil look I--" He pushed a finger to your lips, shushing you wordlessly " Stop pretending you don't want this, you and I, we're meant to be so just for tonight let's pretend we’re the only people in the world". For the second time, that night uneasiness overflooded your sense, but in an impulsive fit of bravery and longing, you waved it off. Nodding as you wrapped your arms tighter around Kalim's waist, enjoying the scenery of the sand dons and the sweet flowery scent that came from Kalim. 

You weren't sure when it had happened but at some point, the melody of the breeze along with the peaceful silence had lulled you into a tranquil slumber. You were stirred from your sleep by the rays of the rising sun. Slowly you pushed yourself up, there was something off about the bed you where laying on, somehow it felt much plusher than your own bed. As you attempted to turn you felt a sharp pain pulling you back onto the mattress. You moved around tugging your arms forward only to see the metal cuffs, orienting your wrists... something had happened during that carpet ride, what it was exactly you weren't sure. But you knew that you would soon get your explanation once Kalim returned. 

In one of the rooms in  Scarabia, a bloodcurdling scream could be heard. Blood trickled down Kalim's arm. dripping onto the carpets and oozing into the seems. Joyfully Kalim spun around, droplets of the crimson liquid flying off in all directions. Jamil sighed as he began dragging the body. "stop making a mess Kalim. Don't you think it was wrong to kill the boy? He was just a friend of (y/n)'s, nothing more." The white-haired royal stopped to look at his friend, a bright smile plastered across his face. “Nothing we do will ever be wrong if it's for (y/n)! She can't have anyone else but us in her life! They'll just be distractions!" Jamil rolled his eyes as he continued pulling the lifeless corps out into the balcony to be turned to dust. All the while Kalim skipped behind him joyfully humming some old tune and dreaming about his awaiting darling. 

[serararku]

Where the Wild Things Are Pt 2

<Theme>

"The tall round-eared brutes came lurking through the night! With sharp blades and flat teeth!" Chronicler Nahe got on her hands and knees to crawl along the dirt, causing the children watching her performance to shudder and whisper amongst themselves. Her assistants came from around the bonfire, covering their ears with bandanas, using their tails to imitate belts, and with half-bowls tied against the sides of their heads to resemble Hyuran ears. "With anger and greed they sought to plunder Miqo'te treasures and sell the kittens to the tribeless cities!"

"Aarrrgh!" An assistant snarled, lunging at the huddled group; their startled squeals put a smile on Era's face, as nostalgia from when she was small enough to sit with them began to settle in. "Yaargh I'm gonna take you across the salt waters and make big profits from your tails! Yo-ho-ho!" One of them began stuffing a large woolen sack with hastily made dolls; seeing that sent some of the younger kittens into a panic, before their mothers sitting behind them calmed the children down.

Nahe let out a loud and exaggerated gasp. "But wait! Who's that in the distance?!" Another assistant slowly approached from the other end, her tail and ears uncovered.

"I am Era Rarku! Azeyma's champion and the greatest blade master that ever lived!" She pointed her straightened stick at the 'pirates' as the kittens cheered her on. "When I send you to your gods, tell them Azeyma gives her regards!"

The costumed group rushed the woman, swinging their fake weapons in wide and telegraphed attacks. She would barely tap her foes with the end of her stick, sending them flipping and twirling in the sand; one pirate got slapped on the foot, and she began hopping up and down while loudly hollering, much to the delighted laughter of the audience. The last pirate was wearing a barrel with a painted grimace on her head, and she slowly stumbled forward after everyone else was laying on the ground. The Era character spun around- carefully avoiding stepping on anyone's hands- before tapping the neck of the final foe; when the barrel dropped into the dirt, red paper confetti came bursting out of the injury, as the woman flailed her arms before collapsing alongside the others.

"With the evil pirate king defeated, the kittens were saved from a cruel and terrible fate!" Nahe bowed when the children cheered and the adults clapped, but she wasn't done yet. "Oh no! The cowards hiding in their black shells want revenge for their pirate friends!"

As the pirates rolled over and hurried out of the way, four more people came shuffling in from around the haze of the bonfire. These 'Garleans' wore thick layers painted black, with buckets on their heads to mimic their magitek armor. Loud booing from the children warmed Era's heart as she watched them scowl and hiss. One daughter in particular jumped to her feet, ran to the closest one, and gave her a good few kicks in the shin before her mother was able to scoop her up and carry her back to the group.

Nahe waited for the laughter to die down before continuing. "So powerful and strong were the shelled men… that not even Azeyma's champion herself could take them alone! So she called others to aid her in this fight!"

One by one they came out in their costumes, the audience gasping, cheering, and clapping as they appeared. The first one carried a giant wooden mask shaped like the head of a black wolf, complete with a blazing torch for one eye, and an eyepatch covering the other. "Had-rel, the great Ash Wolf!" The second one shuffled in wearing pots and pans, with a thick bucket on her head. "Rond, the Iron Golem!" Next came a woman wreathed in flowing silk and satin, whose gloves were dipped in tar and set aflame. "Zaravi, Fist of the Falling Comet!" Last waddled in an assistant no older than ten summers old, wearing a cast iron pot on her head and dragging a club nearly twice her size. "And Cobbsy! The Halfling Hero!" 

Era couldn't help but laugh at the costumes resembling her friends attacking the ‘shelled men’. Pherond’s character was making robot sounds as she hammered away at a foe, Hadriel’s very loose depiction was too busy eating people and howling up at the moon, while R’zevi and Conobharo were simply spinning around in circles. Yet her own depiction lunged forward with the stick and slipped it under the arm of the last Garlean, causing the stick to accidentally break in her grasp. Era’s eyes glimmered as that dreadful memory returned in a blink- when she drove her blazing blade into the stomach of Virilus sas Tullus in her blind rage, and watched him choke on his own screams while he was slowly cooked alive from the inside out. Her heart began to race and her breathing quickened, and she suddenly felt incredibly cold despite sitting comfortably close to the blazing bonfire. Yuun noticed her daughter’s reaction, and gently squeezed her hand; it was over, that nightmare was long over.

As the tribe’s applause filled her ringing ears, and the costumed villains and heroes alike bowed before departing, Chronicler Nahe waited once more until everyone had quieted down. “Yes. She faced kidnappers, pirates, brigands, bandits, and scoundrels. She stood strong against a hundred shelled men, and lived to tell the tale. But her greatest challenge was not some mere mortal… but a great and terrible beast! A voracious monster that wanted nothing more than to eat her and her friends!” Just as Era was beginning to calm down, her anxiety crept up the crevasse of her back; she didn’t think Nahe had the time or the resources to make a costume resembling that mutated dragon abomination. 

But when she saw it shamble out from the shadows and flame, relief washed over her as a smile crept along her lips.

It was the girl in the wolf head again, only this time it poorly resembled the head of a dragon. The little girl depicting Conobharo was back as well, armed with a short stick and her traditional Zu Tribe battlegarb; she was supposed to be Era, only this time much smaller, likely to help show how much larger that monster was to her. “Era Rarku pelted the beast with arrows, severed limbs upon limbs with straight blade, even lured it into carefully laid traps! But nothing could mortally wound this immortal foe! But how did she kill it? How did she live to tell the tale?!”

“She used a big rock!” Cried out a child.

“Fire! A raging fire!” Hollered another.

One of the quieter kittens eventually mumbled out, “M-... maybe she pushed it off a cliff? Or tied it up and buried it?”

“She used a really big rock! That was on fire! That rolled down from a cliff to bury it!”

The Chronicler chuckled with the rest of the adults before giving away the answer. “Ha-! No, no, no! Azeyma’s champion is mighty, true! But she is also terribly clever! If the thick hide could not be pierced, then…!”

The ‘dragon’ head suddenly opened its wide mouth and chomped down on the little girl, with several hands scooping her off the ground to pull her into the costume. Half of the children cried out in shock, as the toddlers began frightfully squealing and panicking again. “MMMmmmm…!” Hummed the beast, rubbing its bloated stomach. “Yummy! That’s some gooooooooood eating! Hahaha! Now, where can I find more kittens to devou- oh… oh no! I’ve got such a tummy ache…! W-what’s happening to meeeEEeeeEEEeeeEEEEAAAAGH?!”

The little warrior burst out from the creature’s stomach, covered in red and orange rope. The kittens cheered her on as she pulled on the entrails, causing the twitching monster to fall onto its side and let out a comically exaggerated death rattle. Soon the whole tribe was clapping and cheering- everyone but Era. 

“Mmmn... not exactly how I told her the stories.” She mumbled, thoroughly amused yet disappointed. “She’s making it sound like I’m some sort of legend, but... almost none of this is true.”

“There’s enough truth in it to make it count.” Her mother assured, squeezing her hand. “Her job is to inspire the children in hopes they will accomplish great things. It’s no different than the stories she used to tell you.”

“To Era Rarku!” Chronicler Nahe pointed at her, snapping her out of her dazed stupor. “To the victorious champion!” Soon everyone’s eyes were upon her, with many urging her to step forward; even her mother let go of her hand and let her rise to her feet.

A tingling shiver crawled up her spine as she stood there, tail bristled and ears flat. Era didn't know what to say- she never once thought the whole of the tribe would shower her with so much praise. "I-I don't have a speech prepared…"

"Show everyone your fire sword!" Yuun shouted, sending another wave of excited cheers through the crowd. "Show us how you defeated the shelled men!"

Era quickly placed her hands together in rapid succession, performing the right mudra through muscle memory. When she wrapped her fingers around the hilt of her katana, pulled the shimmering blade from its sheath, and held it aloft in the air, the dancing flames from the bonfire leapt forth to swallow her weapon whole. Then Era spun her fire-wreathed katana in a dazzling flourish, showering the sand around her feet with sizzling embers. Her family cheered again, with the kittens jumping up and down with joy; it was remarkable how easily impressed they were, but it only made sense- mudra and magicka enchantments are only truly common in the far east. Era had turned a bright shade of pink when she slowly slipped her burning blade back into its sheath. All this attention was starting to get into her head, and the rush from everyone's adoration was beginning to give her a high she could get used to. As she slowly slid her blazing blade into its sheath to snuff the flames, something just within her peripheral vision caught her attention.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw him; she didn’t recognize him at first- all hunched down in a pathetic attempt to remain unnoticed- but the moment their eyes met, a scorching heat burned in her stomach and was well on its way to rising out of her throat. 

Denoh.

He still looked like a mangy bastard, only older than the last time she saw him, and shorter than she remembered. This was the coward who poisoned Tage’s meal before their duel, the boy responsible for banishing him and ultimately sending him to his death. The black leather collar around his neck could only mean one thing- he was defeated by a Tia, yet denied an honorable death. Seeing him slumped over and dripping with shame didn’t give her the peace she wanted- in fact it only made her angrier; no way in hell could this feeble rat ever hope to defeat anyone in a fair fight. It was because of him that Era left her tribe to find a real man in the first place. No Tia who relied on dirty tricks and sabotage should live to regret it. Denoh breathed the sweet air of decent folk, walked on the same ground as her family, and lived in the perpetual shadow of better men. Allowing him to live is an affront to everything Era worked toward, and the need to wet her blade with the blood of traitors, monsters, and cowards alike came back with a vengeance. She didn't even hear her family quiet down, nor the heavy footsteps approaching from her flank.

Just the dizzying pounding of her own heart, and that low, steady ringing.

"Not in front of my children." A deep voice cut through the cheering and dropped the area in a sudden silence. Era whipped around to find herself standing before the second-tallest Miqo'te she had ever seen. Muscle upon muscle clenched beneath his mahogany skin and ritualistic scars, and behind his long shaggy brown hair burned a pair of eyes the color of Dalamud in its final days.

"A-are you…?" Era fumbled with her words.

"Yes. My name is Vahli. You must be Yuun's firstborn." He slowly approached her, keeping his red eyes fixed on her form. This giant of a man towered over Era when he neared close enough to touch. He then circled her like he was a starving coeurl, and when his fingers brushed against her shoulders or ran down locks of her hair, a chill shot up her spine like lightning. "Era, right? We'll talk more after the feast."

"O-okay…" she whimpered, never taking her eyes off him while he approached the roasting boar. When she peeled her eyes away from him long enough to glance at her mother, she was greeted with an encouraging smile and a wink.

Vahli pulled a long bone knife from a leather strap on his hip, grabbed a juicy haunch with his bare hand, and began carving the boar into pieces. He fed the kittens first, of course; none of them were his, but luckily their trust could be bought at a low, yet tasty, price. Next came his wives, who got the biggest helping of the hindquarters of the entire tribe. Every woman was served more than they could reasonably eat- everyone but Era; in fact, her Nuhn didn't even give her a passing glance when he offered a choice cut to her mother. After that awkward exchange, the warrior women invaluable during battle and on hunting parties were served next, getting the more lean parts of the pig. He served whatever was left to the slaves: the feet, ears, cheek meat, and sinew. Even Denoh got enough to make it through the night. 

"Enjoy the feast." Vahli spoke, sweeping his gaze across their faces. He then settled his gaze on her mother before adding, "You know where to find me."

"She won't be long." Yuun assured him, slipping her daughter a piece of her dinner once he turned his back to return to his chambers. "Come with me, sweetie. It's time to freshen you up for your fateful evening."

---

Mentions: @hadriel-ffxiv​, @rzevi-tia-ffxiv​, @conobharo-cobharo-xiv​

[if-you-built-yourself-a-myth]

As the World Falls Down

Robbe sat in the hospital waiting room all night, even slept in one of those uncomfortable plastic chairs near the front entrance. He couldn’t bring himself to return to the flat—how could he meet Milan and Zoë and tell them what happened, especially since they would beg to know the surprise as soon as he pushed through the front door? He left his backpack at the hotel suite. It didn’t matter. The cleaning staff could pawn off all his belongings to the highest bidder, so long as he could see those bleach-blond waves and look into a pair of brown eyes. He needed to know how Sander was doing.

Around four in the morning, Britt went home. She didn’t see Robbe sitting only a few feet away as she exited. He wanted to hate her for everything she’d said to him hours earlier, but she looked so tired and sad that he couldn’t conjure the emotion. Maybe he would be able to later. He couldn’t picture her getting any sort of retribution for her actions, just the tears streaming down her cheeks and the hopeless air that followed her into the city as she retreated. He pitied her.

The woman Robbe had seen in the ambulance—Mrs. Driesen, he guessed—gathered her own belongings to leave a few minutes later. Robbe was surprised to see her with her purse, jacket, hat, and scarf, heading towards the double doors. He expected she would spend the night with her son as he rested on medications in a hospital room. He jumped from his chair to stop her.

“Is Sander okay?” he asked. He hoped his hair wasn’t too messy. This was not how he envisioned meeting Sander’s mother, not even in his wildest nightmares. She looked like Sander might look, minus the bleached hair and snarky smile. 

She blinked at him. “Who are you?”

“Robbe.” Robbe extended his hand for a handshake. “Sander was with me when…” His voice caught. “I just want to know if he’s okay.” He paused. “Can you let me see him?”

Mrs. Driesen moved her mouth helplessly for a second, looking for something to say. She finally settled on a clipped sentence. “You should ask his mother, when she gets here.”

“She’s not here now?” So the woman was not Mrs. Driesen. It must be Mrs. Ingelbrecht.

“No, I gave her a call. He had Britt listed as his emergency contact.”

“Oh, thanks.”

He took a step back and watched her leave. That meant Sander was all alone, in a gigantic hospital, right after one of the most traumatic experiences of his life.

No way in hell was Robbe letting it stay that way.

His mother took a turn for the worse a year ago. He watched her lay in bed day after day. He knew she was scared to be by herself in the room, frightened that everyone she loved would abandon her and the world would continue without her in it. He did not want to imagine Sander feeling the same way. Robbe knew his life was better with Sander, just as it was better with his mother as a part of the story.

He headed straight to the nurse’s station in the center of the waiting room. “I’m sorry, what room is Sander Driesen in?”

The nurse looked him up and down. “Relationship to the patient?”

“Boyfriend.”

She made a weird face, something that told him Britt had described herself as Sander’s girlfriend. Sander might look like a cheating, two-timing bitch now, but Robbe found the expression funny. He needed something like that. A reason to smile.

“The girl in here earlier,” he said, “was his ex. It’s complicated. I just have to see him.”

The nurse stuttered a little before she replied, “Visiting hours begin at eleven. You can wait in the waiting room—”

No. Robbe had to see Sander now. He couldn’t go back to the flat to face Milan, Zoë, and Senne knowing that Sander was all by himself, even if he knew that Sander’s mother was on her way. He felt tears pricking at his eyes.

“Can I please see him now?”

“If you were family, I’d say yes.” She continued to type on her computer. The click-clack of the keys made Robbe feel even more anxious than before. 

“I have to see him, okay?” he pleaded. Now there were full tears bubbling beneath his eyelids. He swiped the back of his hand across his face to keep his composure. “I was with him. He was with me when everything…” He felt helpless. He had to be with Sander, he just had to. 

He didn’t need to finish his sentence. The nurse looked around at the nurses’ station, then pointed down the hallway. “Room 24,” she said. 

-~-

Sander looked smaller than ever curled up in the hospital bed. While his eyes were closed in the guise of sleep, he scratched at an exposed section of his neck with reckless abandon. The walls of the bedroom were painted a calming shade of blue, not unlike the walls of his mother’s room in the institution. Robbe approached as quietly as he could and placed a kiss on Sander’s forehead. He sat down in the bedside chair.

“Sorry,” Sander mumbled without opening his eyes. How he knew it was Robbe, Robbe didn’t know.

“No need to be,” Robbe replied. He tried to slide his hand into Sander’s, but Sander pulled away and rolled over so that Robbe couldn’t see his face.

“I was trying to stop it, I am trying, I can’t get out of my skin…” Sander’s voice trailed off. Robbe didn’t know what kind of medication they put him on, but he was surprised that Sander spoke to him at all. 

Robbe’s mother did the same thing when he went to wake her in the mornings. She would roll over. She would look away. She would stare right through Robbe as if he were made of glass, his father too, and nothing they did could help her. They cared for her until it was no longer within their control. Fuck, Robbe wasn’t sure if he was ready for that. He’d watched as it stretched their family to its breaking point.

This was not something to take lightly. He couldn’t assure Sander that he would always be able to handle his illness with grace and perfection. 

“It’s hot in here.” Sander pushed off the blankets. “It’s so hot everywhere. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

“It’s not, I’m not.” Sander began to clench and unclench his fists. Robbe wondered if he should call a doctor into the room to give Sander something more, maybe to calm him down. The movement wasn’t violent, though, so he let it be. “Not.”

Britt’s words came to the forefront of Robbe’s mind again. Sander was asleep before he came in here. Maybe everything was his fault. 

Then again, if it was, there wasn’t much he could do about it now but stay.

He decided to  channel and old memory. He had been sitting on the edge of his mother’s bed, stroking a hand through her hair. It was something consistent he could do for her to show her he was beside her, without making her look at him or speak with him. That day was not the worst of days. If anything, it was one of the better ones. He learned how to braid on YouTube that morning and decided to weave her hair into millions of tiny ones. She told him once that she liked to have him near her. She liked to feel that he still cared.

As he made his way to the fifteenth braid, she cleared her throat.

“Is something wrong?” he asked.

“No, I’m alright.”

“Can I get you anything?”

“No, I…” 

Robbe got up from the one side of the bed and made his way around to other. He sat in the indent his father used to leave behind when he woke up for work. “What is it?” He looked around. “Do you want me not to touch you? I can stop.”

“No, it’s not that.”

“Then what is it?”

She stifled a sob. He hated hearing her cry, especially since it had become the soundtrack to his life. He wanted to make things better for her—at the very least, act as a painkiller for whatever horrible things were happening in her mind. Illness didn’t disappear by the power of love. He knew that, too.

“I—” she began.

“Yes?”

“I don’t want you to feel like, like any of this is your respo—” 

Robbe sighed. She had said this to him before in passing, on the better days when she felt good enough to make French Toast on the stovetop and hummed along to the radio. “Mom, I know—”

“No, listen.” She took his hand, one of the largest movements from the past few days, and placed something in his palm: a necklace, the one she used to wear to church, with a picture of a cherub beveled on the side. She used to say it protected her from demons. Her voice was delicate as eggshells. “You have to understand. None of this is... you didn’t cause this.”

“I know I didn’t, it’s fi—”

“—and nothing, I mean nothing, in my head can change my love for you. Nothing.”

He tried not to get choked up. He wanted to be strong for them both. “I know.”

“I love you.”

After that, she’d gone back to sleep. It was the last time he watched her pull her face under the covers before she left the house completely to go into treatment. He knew, as he watched Sander’s form in the hospital bed, that this wasn’t his fault either. Britt was wrong. It wasn’t fake and it wasn’t caused by him.

Robbe found himself speaking. “I don’t know what Britt told you, just what she told me.” He kept his voice low and soothing. “I want you to know that I don’t care.” Sander shifted in the bed. Scooting further away from Robbe in the chair at his bedside. Robbe continued anyway. “I know stuff is fucked up right now and nothing makes sense to me, but it’s not going to change how I feel about you.” He inhaled. “I thought you might like to know that. Tonight does nothing to change my feelings for you.”

It wasn’t much, and it didn’t make Sander face him again. 

“You’re always going to leave me,” he heard the other boy whisper. “They’re always going to leave me.”

“I’m going to stay here until your mom arrives, okay?”

Sander nodded, more to himself.

Robbe placed his hand on the bed, within Sander’s reach should he choose to grab it. “I love you the same.” He hoped this would be enough to make Sander understand.

[365daysofsasuhina]

[ @sasuhinabigflash2020​​ || Day Fifteen: Turnip Soup ] [ Uchiha Sasuke, Hyūga Hinata, Yamanaka Ino, Haruno Sakura ] [ SasuHina ] [ Verse: A Light Amongst Shadows ] [ AO3 Link ]

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For the first time in far too long, Hinata is having a girls’ day. And not just any girls’ day, but a potluck to boot!

With everyone’s busy schedules, getting a day to align to allow the four of them to meet up has been ridiculously difficult. Between Sakura’s haphazard shifts at the hospital to Ino’s work with the interrogation department to Tenten’s shop, coordinating has been a nightmare. Hinata, for her part, has tried to be flexible. Her work with Sasuke and the rest of the Hyūga to keep the civilians of Konoha safe hasn’t exactly been easy, but her new husband does his best to accommodate her.

So, finally, after weeks of near-misses, they have a day: Saturday. And Ino, with her connections to Konoha parks’ botanical group, managed to arrange a private spot in one of the village’s largest public gardens for the afternoon.

It’s going to be perfect!

And Hinata has gone all-out. Rising at the crack of done to have it finished in time, she’s made an old recipe of her mother’s: homemade turnip soup. Alongside from-scratch cinnamon buns, she’s sure to contribute to the miserable fullness they’ll all be feeling by the end of the day. She packs up bowls and utensils for her share, double checking she has everything she needs.

“Ready to go?”

Turning to Sasuke, she gives him a bright smile. “I think so! Sorry you can’t come…”

“It’s called a girls’ day for a reason. And I’m not sure I’d fit in, regardless.”

At that, Hinata pouts. “Of course you would. But...maybe you and the rest of the guys could have a day to get together…?”

Sasuke’s expression immediately sours. “Not sure I’d enjoy their idea of a ‘fun’ evening. Probably pigging out on greasy food and cheap beer.”

A giggle escapes her. “You’re probably right...still, I feel bad.”

“Trust me, I don’t feel slighted.” A hand threads fingers in her hair, resting against the rear of her head to steady her as lips gently press to her brow. “Go have fun.”

She beams softly. “Okay...I left you a portion of soup for supper, okay?”

“Thanks, Hinata.”

“Bye!” Giving a little wave, she packs up her things and heads out the door.

As per usual, the Konoha Summer has been hot. And today is no exception. Despite her demure style, Hinata has deemed a sundress necessary attire for the heat. White with a bit of lilac floral print, it’s still decent enough for her tastes. Reaching her knees with a medium neckline, the straps are several inches wide. Enough to keep cool, but not too much for her self-conscious self. Flat white sandals replace her typical on-duty boots. She even went so far as to paint her nails a soft lavender color.

And to top it all off, she’s got a wide-brimmed white hat to shade her face, accented with a purple ribbon.

...okay, maybe she put a lot of thought into this outfit, but...she wants to look nice! Especially since Ino always looks pretty...while Hinata’s not usually the dress-up sort, there’s a sort of unspoken sizing up whenever the four of them meet. Tenten pretends not to care with her tomboy attitude, but even she has her feminine moments alongside rough-and-tumble Sakura.

She just...wants to fit in, is all. Doesn’t matter how old they get, they’re still victims of their own vanities...some just more than others.

Pushing all those thoughts aside, Hinata brightens as she spots her friends. Sakura and Ino are already present, Tenten nowhere yet to be seen. “Hi guys!”

The pair turn and smile back. “Hinata-chan!” Ino greets jovially, waving her over. “Wow, you went all out, huh?”

“W-well, I...I really love to cook,” she explains sheepishly. “I brought soup a-and dessert!”

“I thought I smelled cinnamon,” Sakura agrees with a grin. “You’ve always made those!”

The pink in Hinata’s cheeks gets a little darker. “They’re...my favorite…”

“Well, I’m trying to watch my diet but I think I can cheat just one,” Ino replies, arms folding. “No one can pass up Hinata-chan’s baking.”

“Chyeah!” the rosette agrees.

“Any word from Tenten yet…?” Hinata then asks, setting her basket of goodies and wares on the table.

“Sadly she had to back out last minute,” Sakura sighs. “Apparently some important officer under the daimyō just sent in an order for a dress sword, and she needs to fill it as soon as possible.”

The Hyūga wilts a bit. “I see…”

“I swear, we’re just cursed to always have at least one person unable to come,” Ino sighs, taking a seat and draping one leg over the other.

“Someday we’ll manage it.” Taking out a large pitcher of premade tea, Sakura pours them all a glass. “We can put some of all our stuff together and take it to her place for her after, so she doesn’t miss out.”

“Oh, g-good idea!”

With that, the typical small talk begins as food is dished out: catching up on all the goings-on in their lives. Sakura moans about how busy the hospital remains. “The more hours the more pay of course, but it hardly leaves me any free time! I’m almost as bad as Naruto now with how little I’m home,” she pouts, leaning her chin in a hand.

“Well, at least neither of you are sitting there alone too often,” Ino replies, sipping her tea.

“Yeah, but I’d rather we both just have more time off.”

“You know, you both control your own schedules.”

“We’re both workaholics,” is Sakura’s sheepish admission. “Someday we’ll slow down a bit, but right now we’re in our primes!”

“I know what you mean,” Hinata offers politely. “Sasuke and I hardly ever take time off. Even with all of the Hyūga we have signed up for the community watch force, it seems we’re always needed somewhere.”

“Well, Sasuke’s the founder after all. Since Shisui’s working with the Hokage, he’s really the only Uchiha people can rely on themselves.” Ino tilts her head curiously. “And you might not be heiress by name, but your clan still has massive respect for you and your abilities. Of course they’d rely on you, too.”

At the compliment, Hinata’s head ducks demurely, blushing. “...I suppose so…”

“How’s Hanabi been holding up?”

“Well! She’s, well...she’s bored with her lessons, but she’s always been a bit...easily distracted,” Hinata laughs. “But she takes her role seriously. And I know she’s relying on Neji-nīsan for guidance.”

“Any lingering problems with him?”

“Thankfully no, he recovered very well.”

“Thank the gods for that,” Sakura sighs. “One hell of a risky procedure, but...well, we all know how stubborn she is.”

“...I’ll never be able to repay her,” is Hinata’s quiet reply.

“Not sure a debt is the point, though. Besides, the main thing is he’s okay. Now if only he’d get off his high horse and propose to poor Tenten already.”

“He wants to! It’s just, um...complicated. Clan traditions and all that.”

“But what about you and Sasuke?”

“That was mostly excused due to the alliance,” Hinata sighs. “There’s only two Uchiha left, but...he’s technically still clan heir, so my father convinced the council it was still proper. It took some convincing for him too, though.”

“Ugh, so glad I don’t deal with any clan nonsense,” Sakura mutters lowly, stirring the last dredges of her soup. “Seems like such a pain.”

“Depends on the clan,” Ino offers with a shrug. “None of my team, despite us all being heirs, were pushed into marriages into the clan.”

“The Hyūga are probably the most, um...antiquated clan in the village,” Hinata admits with a disappointed set of her lips. “I have to wonder what Hanabi will do when the time comes…”

“Oh I doubt anyone’s gonna tell her what to do, the little spitfire.”

“Probably not, but that will still cause q-quite the stir.”

“Your clan’s had lots of stirrings since the war. It’s good for them,” Ino quips, taking a bite of cinnamon bun. “I still can’t believe it took so long to abolish the houses…”

“Well, after Neji-nīsan’s actions, it couldn’t really be ignored anymore,” Hinata agrees quietly.

“Then your big role in the ousting of the rest of the old council. Now that was awesome.” A wide grin grows over Sakura’s face. “I’ll never forget that.”

“Indeed. I’m just glad Sasuke and his family got the closure they were denied for so long…” Hinata’s eyes drop to the table somberly. “It still b-breaks my heart to think about it.”

“...yeah…”

A muted silence falls over the group of them for a time.

“...well, I don’t know about you two, but I’m full of both food and gossip,” Ino then announces, leaning back with a satisfied sigh. “Amazing soup and buns, Hinata-chan.”

“T-thank you!”

“You’ll have to share the recipes!”

“You can’t cook to save your life, Dekorīn,” Ino laughs.

“That’s what practice is for, Ino-buta!”

Smiling sheepishly, Hinata waves a hand. “I-I’ll get you both copies.”

Tidying up after themselves (and putting together Tenten’s box, which Ino agrees to deliver), the trio stand and chat a little longer before parting ways. Evening is settling over the village, and Hinata sighs contentedly in the cooling air.

It was a nice day.

Arriving home, she calls out her arrival, Sasuke replying from inside.

“You’re early.”

“...am I?”

“I thought you’d be gone longer is all. Had your soup.”

“Oh! Was it good…?”

“Very. You’ll have to teach me.”

At that, Hinata gives a smile. “...I’d be happy to.”

     Woo, some slice of life fluff! Not so much centered on Sasuke this time around, but Hinata can always use more love. As can her bonds with the other girls! Still bugs me how little we got to see them all interact in canon...      Otherwise though, a simple little piece, nothing too special~ Another hot as heckie day so that’ll be all from me for now, but once the heatwave’s over I want to try to catch back up again lol      On that note though, I’d best head off for the night. Thank you for reading!

[bigskydreaming]

Our changeling who's head/face are always obscured by colorful clouds. Even *he* doesn't know what he looks like anymore under there after the Change. When Violet tries using her mists on him, he just goes "ya done? Good, MY turn". He lives in a top floor apartment, from which he sends out billowing and shimmering good dreams at night.

Hmmm, trying to figure out how Head in the Clouds Changeling might fit into the natural (well, supernatural) ecosystem of Bordertown now. He’s somewhere between Alistair (gay white guy with a demon style Change who lives in the Seventh Circle and plays a critical role in the way the town’s overall magic works and fits together) and Noelle (bi black girl with a flight-capable Change and who lives in the Aerie and is one of Bordertown’s most famous residents and artists and basically invented her own form of art unique just to her, as only her magic makes it possible).

But yeah,I feel like….based off of your description of Head in the Clouds Changeling here. Not in terms of overlap, but in terms of like….I just feel like there’s some niche he’s just adjacent to, or right smack between those two, and I just haven’t figured out quite what’s ideal there yet.

Because like, okay, so Alistair the Dream Keeper, one of the chief residents of the Seventh Circle, is already a big part of why most Changeling residents of Bordertown never seem to have nightmares. He basically feeds off them. Most of the time, Alistair is a hulking behemoth with a grayish skin tone, curved, obsidian horns that naturally curve together and form a crown-like shape atop his head, and with a fiery red gemstone adorning the front of it and pulsing in time with his heartbeat. 

And his skin actually has a strange, almost quasi-translucent look to it, like its not so much skin as it is the surface of some deep, murky pond whose waters are all gray and overcast and dark..It ripples when he moves, and if you watch him long enough you’ll see dark shapes darting up and down the length of his body, across his arms, the back of his neck, etc…as though you’re catching distant glimpses of whatever creatures live deep down in the depths of those waters.

And essentially, Alistair’s magic works by making him a kind of magnet, almost, a supernatural lodestone that pull nightmares out of the sleeping minds of nearby Changelings and carries them in his direction, via some kind of nightmare spectral tide, that only he can really see or interact with. And by being able to see and interact with this nightmare tide, Alistair can basically….fish these nightmares out of it, and feed on them.  He absorbs them into himself, where they become part of his mass, cause him to grow, not unlike that aspect of Sky the Cloud Shaper’s magic….and then with these nightmares becoming the dark figures glimpsed in the depths of the reservoir of dreams his body basically doubles as.

However, the true nature - for better and worse - of Alistair’s magic is that it turns the nightmares that are washed up on his shore, from half-realized monstrosities of the id and the subconscious…..and without actual intent from him even, just a natural byproduct of his magic….the nightmare tide that carries bad dreams to him, like, fleshes them out, gives them physical substance by the time they get to him.

So when he fishes one of these nightmares out of the sky or atmosphere around him, where its swimming in this kind of magical tide that really only exists for him, at least right up until the second a nightmare gets drawn in close enough to him that its made physical reality….the act of fishing a nightmare out of the sky/nightmare tide is a physical act. He basically plucks it out of thin air and and pulls it into himself, absorbing it into his own body and the strange not-ocean that acts as the surface of his skin even as it contains limitless depths beneath said surface.

BUT….the second his magic turns a nightmare into something physical….it becomes potentially dangerous, as much to him as anything or anyone else around. Like, there are some nightmares he just flat out doesn’t want to feed off of or absorb, because he’s not sure what having a particular one inside him, be part of him, might do to him as a consequence or side effect, but he’s not always eager to find out, and thus avoids feeding off of specific nightmares he himself feels unsettled by, just from the sight of them or being in proximity to them.

Except the danger is, there’s no ‘return to sender’ function he can evoke with his magic, to send it back to whatever dreaming mind his magic pulled it from in the first place. Nor can he just make it immaterial again, remove its physical aspect, by doing anything other than taking it into himself, which he’s too afraid/anxious to do with some of these.

All of which means, his only real option with these nightmares that he doesn’t want to touch or feed on or have any part of them inside him….is to physically destroy them. Which he does by summoning one of the nightmares he has previously chosen to absorb into his own depths….and bringing it back out of him again, returning its own physical state, and then basically.pitting it against this other nightmare he wants gone, but not at the cost of letting it potentially affect or change him. Weaponizing one or more of the nightmares he’s fed upon, to destroy the nightmare he refuses to, because just the nearness of it is leaving a bad taste in his mouth.

And these clash of nightmares can get pretty gnarly, but since in even most worse case scenarios, Alistair still has more nightmares he can pull up out of his own depths to act as reinforcements or supplement his initial choice of warrior, if its not up to the task of destroying the nightmare he’s trying to rid the world of….its usually not a problem. 

Some nightmares out there are dark by any standards, with this all being part of why he doesn’t want them inside him even briefly…the fact that they’re so monstrous, so horrific, that even just getting rid of them requires he burn through most of the nightmares he has available to weaponize against it in the first place, when attempting to do just that.

But ultimately he is almost always able to destroy even the most twisted of nightmares-made-flesh that swim his way on the spectral tides of his own magic’s making….even if doing so costs him his entire stockpile of existing nightmare warriors….and leaves his own ‘reservoir’ dried up and shallow for the most part, with no dark creatures lurking deep in its depths. While at the same time, shrinking him down to a far less imposing or intimidating frame or stature than he usually possesses.

He can always ‘restock’ his supply by feeding on more new nightmares he is willing to eat and absorb….even if he sometimes simultaneously sulks about having to lose some of his most valuable and preferred (and in some instances, rare) nightmare archetypes,  as they fell in battle against the personal demons of some other Changeling’s fucked up subconscious.

Thus, whatever else he may be, such as melodrama prone, Alistair the Dream Keeper plays a unique and valuable role within the magical ecosystem of Bordertown. Thanks to him, the town’s residents enjoy a largely restful and healthy night’s rest one night after another…..rather than being mired in whatever dark dreams they would be haunted by were Alistair’s magic not available to physically draw their nightmares out and vanquish them magically. 

And the ‘reward’ his own magic reaps for him, in return for this valuable service he provides the town….is his ability to call forth whatever nightmare warriors he has stored within him, to use as his champions in whatever other conflicts he might find himself in.

(Of course, there are the really rare occasions where some new arrival’s dreams are so haunting and horrific, none of the nightmare warriors Alistair has available to him are able to put an end to that newest terror….and it takes other Changelings reinforcing him with their own magic to exorcise these particular beasts. But those are rare occasions indeed, when he finds himself totally outmatched on just his own).

And then on the completely opposite side of things, there’s Noelle and her niche in Bordertown. Noelle is a black girl whose primary place of residence is in one of the towers of the Aerie….and this also where she has her studio, and where she developed, honed and continues to master the unique art form that’s born entirely of her own magic….and that makes her one of Bordertown’s most famous artists in residence.

Appearance wise, Noelle is a black girl of medium height, in her late teens or early twenties….and with every part of her constantly lit or aglow with her own vibrant neon luminescence, one forever combining complementary hues of blue, indigo, violet and hot pink. Her hair is the latter: tight braids always brightly shining a dynamic, neon shade of hot pink. Her skin always appears to be bathed in a perpetual, moonlit glow that in turn, gives her an eternally soft and cool blue radiance of her own. 

And from her back spring two wings of pure incandescence, like two flat panes of solid, glowing light, both a deep and lush violet in hue…..wings that rapidly beat the air much like those of a hummingbird do, allowing her to remain practically stationary in flight, should she wish to - and should she find it helpful to remain in such a position while crafting one of her works of art. 

And all the while, other sources of light shining through and cascading over her wings of light, rippling off of the soft arctic glow of her figure and woven into the dynamic, neon intensity of her hair….it all casts a chiaroscuro crazy-quilt of dappled light and shadow about her, everywhere she goes….making her the permanent center-point in a constantly shifting light sculpture that’s illuminating and illusionary all at the same time.

And thanks to her magic, Noelle’s unique form of artistry allows her to paint with her own light and emotions. Literally. By tracing paths of light across any surface using just her own glowing fingers or hands, Noelle sketches designs that she at the same time imbues with specific emotions, or combinations of emotion. With these then being experienced exactly as she intended them to be felt, by anyone later touching a surface she poured her own radiance and emotions into.

By the time she’s done with a piece, Noelle’s art might be physically indistinguishable from its surroundings….but the emotional tapestries or symphonies that spring into a person’s mind, that can be felt singing deep within their very bones, just upon making the slightest touch to a surface that’s keyed to one of her emotional landscapes….in those respects, her art is an experience impossible to mistake for anything other than what it is: 

Unique masterpieces of vibrant, intense feelings that are all laid out and organized into coherent emotional journeys that are then undertaken by anyone whose heartstrings are seized in the grasp of one of her pieces.

There’s a small courtyard in the heart of the Rose’s Garden, that Noelle carefully shaped and molded into an emotional arrangement that even years later still bears the specific resonance she poured into every last nook and cranny of that cozy, intimate space…the name of this courtyard, this piece of hers, is “Refuge,” and any Changeling who goes to sit in it finds themselves swept up in the cascading surges and swellings of relief and comfort, surety and safety, that she crafted that small, light-swept corner of the garden to be an eternal reminder of.

There’s a soothingly bubbling fountain on the uppermost floor of the Aerie, that Noelle named Respite when she was done crafting it into a basin of sustaining restfulness, a fount whose waters from that point on always held within them a soft inner radiance and summoned to mind a hum of peaceful relaxation, for anyone who so much as trailed a hand through their ripples, let alone took a refreshing sip.

A terrace along the north side of one of the uppermost floors of the Aerie bears the name Solace, thanks to her….and thanks to her magic and her art, it bears a feeling of consolation, of shared loss and of an understanding of its magnitude, for anyone who steps out onto that terrace with nothing between their toes and the support of the terrace underneath their feet.

And Noelle’s latest project, undertaken in collaboration with her girlfriend Nadia, a Changeling possessing the look of a dryad and the magic of shaping trees, is a line of furniture called Contentment….a series of magically sculpted chairs that each bear a unique emotional signature, guaranteed to bequeath a blissful sensation of peace and oneness with one’s surroundings, to anyone that sits in one such chair. 

But never lacking for ambition or the desire to further press and hone her craft in new directions, each and every new project she undertakes, Noelle’s new signature line of furniture doesn’t bear just a single, over-arching feeling of Contentment to be shared by anyone who sits in any of the chairs, with no two any different from each other…. rather, each individual chair holds within it an entirely different kind of Contentment, unique and distinct to each one. One chair holds within it the satisfaction of a job well done, a passion project that has born exactly the fruits one hoped to see it yield some day. Another contains a breathless surge of knowing exactly what you hoped to find and feel upon reclining in it, and discovering your anticipated hopes had been met and exceeded upon sitting down. Another sweeps you up into the confident surefooted awareness that you were exactly where you were supposed to be, doing exactly as you were intended to be spending this time doing….nothing mattered beyond just the general state of existing you were more than gratified to make the focus of your entire being for now.

And so on and so on. 

Which brings us back to your head in the clouds Changeling and makes me think….what role or niche might he best serve here…..and now I’m thinking, what about something like a source of inspiration, a burst of epiphany? Someone whose very presence is a catalyst for the Eureka moments of everyone in his vicinity perhaps? Maybe he’s mostly mainstream in appearance other than the clouds or mists that seem to cling to him in just the right ways as to obscure his most revealing features, and with no apparent source for where the clouds or mists originate….and something about his magic acts as a lure, a will-o-wisp almost, perhaps tendrils of his clouds seek out the people I’m about to describe here and leave a trail of thread between them and him, that they can follow as long or far as needed to end up in the same area as him at just the right time for ‘the clouds to clear up’……

And with the people his clouds are drawn to, and that they draw to him in turn…..being those who are particularly lost or dazed, having trouble focusing or seeing a conclusion or detail that’s of pretty vital importance and is just right in front of them and has been for days, if not longer….with the ultimate point of his magic being that it gathers as many people in this state to or around him as possible, and then once the number of people, or the mass confusion felt by all present, like, once it hits the point of critical mass…..that’s when his magic makes for a ‘clearing of the clouds’ that cuts through both the crowd and their individual confusions like a bolt of divine inspiration…..and suddenly, everyone present is having a eureka moment, a mystical epiphany that flings them into action and movement and has them scribbling down things as fast as they can think of ways their recent revelation might apply here or tie into something else here?

Not sure, but something like that, potentially. I do know one thing that’s of relevance here, or at least I think, is the idea I had that for flight-capable and winged Changelings, the height you live at in the Aerie, how high up you are compared to others…..its based on wingspan, stuff like that….basically, how much you need that room to take flight or make the most of your magic. Like…..its not a status symbol, having a residence on one of the very top floors of one of the Aerie skyscrapers isn’t proof of you being anymore important than any other Changelings in the towers or elsewhere in Bordertown…..it simply means…you need the room. 

So at the very upper levels, you do have Changelings like Hideo Furukawa, sometimes called the Strange Angel - the guy who is half Brazilian, half Japanese, all ridiculously gorgeous and almost seven feet tall….and with vast wings that are actually three different overlaying pairs of wings, all of them seemingly formed of stained glass windows rather than feathers, resulting in Hideo showering the ground beneath his wings with an endless river of rainbows where the sun hits and bleeds through his wings, his wings sounding like a symphony of wind chimes every time he beats them against the air, and with him able to cut and rip holes directly into the fabric of space each time he unfurls his wings and slices through the sky with them, and potentially reality too….

Basically, point being, someone like Hideo is individually powerful and a huge social influence within Bordertown, given that he can fly through his rifts to anywhere pretty much instantly….and thus meaning that he’s one of the few Changelings with unfettered access to any of the other Faetowns, 24/7, who never needs to rely on a painting portal or the compliance of any of the paintings’ guardians, in order to travel from town to town…..but then compared to this particular Changeling…..it might seem strange for them to both be top-level dwellers, both living at some of the highest points of the Aerie, when Head in the Clouds Guy doesn’t even seem or feel flight-capable, and might actually be one of the few Changelings living in the Aerie who can’t fly at all…..

BUT at the same time, theoretically a case could still be made for WHY he’s living in that particular Fey ‘neighborhood,’ and why he has a top floor dwelling as well, despite a lack of wingspan period…..because if its as much about your magic needing more room to maneuver well, just as much as its about your wings needing the space…then Head in the Clouds Changeling makes a lot of sense there from that perspective, because imagine the clouds or mist just pouring off him in waves, seeking out everyone aligned with his particular magic or the need for it right now, that hit of clarity….you’d need him as high up as possible to get that cloud cover seeking out the right people to draw back to him, but otherwise causing as little disruption to Bordertown’s day to day movement and populations as possible…..because from up high, tendrils of clouds can go seeking individuals, but if all that cloud cover spreads out from the ground level…..everyone’s going to end up blinded by it and getting turned around in it, even people who weren’t originally or wouldn’t be having trouble with that otherwise either.

The same could be said for if his clouds were about delivering good dreams, but I’m undecided if that’s maybe too much overlap with Alistair even though its the direct opposite of his nightmare tide. But even though Alistair doesn’t influence dreams directly, or lead to good ones or contribute to anyone dreaming at all…his acting as a lodestone to draw out and suck up the bad dreams, actually banishing, destroying or exorcising the worst of the worst, that might still in essence, just…effectively produce a similar result to a mist, fog or cloud cover that spreads good dreams throughout the city.

[chocolatemillkk]

Kid Brother IV

I wake to the bright light from my windows the next morning. Or afternoon, I realise as I check my clock. I thank myself from last night for being responsible and drinking tons of water before going home as my hangover is nonexistent. The warm body on the sheets next to me hums in his sleep and I recognise the shock of red hair as Josh. So I guess we did end up at my place, I realise as the night comes back to me.

Josh's hand is wrapped around my midsection and his face rests near my shoulder. He looked peaceful in the morning light, and he was a perfect gentleman last night-just as he'd been when we went out a few months ago. But a small feeling in the pit of my stomach makes me feel uneasy. In another life, I could see Josh and I getting on but in this one, Josh couldn't be more than a friend. Because now that I've had my first night with another guy whilst aware of my feelings for Joe, things didn't sit right. Especially when it was his best mate I slept with.

Zoe and I became best friends in primary school and Joe and I got quite close as kids too. After a certain point, however, we drifted apart as he was always trying to annoy Zoe and I or play pranks on us when we were trying to hang out. He'd always have a cheeky comment to everything I said which led to many years of arguing. But before that, we got really close. I don't even think Zoe realised how close her brother and I used to be.

The thing was, I used to sleep over at the Sugg house a lot when my parents were going through a divorce and because I had nightmares I would sometimes leave Zoe asleep and sit in their living room for some fresh air. One night, I ran into Joe who was sneaking a midnight snack and we got to talking. And after that, every time I slept over, Joe would come down around midnight and we would stay up. He told me what was going on with him and I told him everything I couldn’t tell others. He gave shite advice, I smile thinking about it, but he was a great listener. We stopped after my parents divorced and I lived with my dad. And once I got my first boyfriend at 15. Joe and I argued a lot, he was always making fun of me for the things Zoe and I did, for the kinds of boys I dated. But I can barely believe we shared so much with one other at one point.

I remember the other big moment with Joe from when we were kids. Our senior dance Zoe and I both had dates. Mine was my boyfriend I was dating since Christmas but the night before the dance he broke up with me over IM and I was devastated. Joe, upon hearing what happened, wore his nicest shirt and took a rare shower and showed up in Zoe's room while she tried to coat my lashes in waterproof mascara. He said he could go with me and honestly, it was one of the best nights I had all year.

"Hey," Josh's sleepy voice wakes me from my trip down memory lane. He kisses me on my bare shoulder and brushes his thumb against my waist, sending butterflies to my stomach. "You're up."

"Yeah," I sigh. I turn to face him and we examine each other for a few moments before he speaks.

"I shouldn't feel guilty, I mean we've done this before we knew we-that we had Joe in common. You know it's not that what we have is bad. You're beautiful and amazing but I just feel guilty?"

I exhale a laugh, "I know exactly what you mean."

"I thought so, that look on your face earlier was pretty easy to read."

I stroke his face and he returns a sad smile. "I really do like you, I wish things didn't turn out like they did all this while ago."

"Me too," he sighs. "I actually really like you too. But I think we can be great friends don't you?"

"I do," I smile. "Friends with a rich history."

Josh opens his mouth wide while he laughs and it's contagious. "You have a thing for Joe don't you?" He asks once we quiet down.

"What?" I begin to build up a defence but I realise I'm laying mostly naked with his best friend and basically it's not like he was going to tell Joe about this particular moment. "Maybe, I'm not quite sure yet."

"You do!" Josh pokes me. "You're denying it to yourself. And Joe talks about you too often and now that I know you like him too-quite frankly I don't know why nothing's happened between you two."

"Ugh," I bury my face in the duvet. "I don't want it to be weird! He's always been Zoe's younger brother and I used to see him like that too! I'm just not sure-"

I'm cut off when my phone begins ringing. I lean over to check and see Joe's grade school picture staring up at me. Oh gods.

"That's Joe," I say panicked. "What do I do?"

"Is he here?" Josh scrambles to get up while remaining covered and I hold the phone in my hand like it's about to go off at any second. "Maybe he's just calling about last night? Pick it up."

I do as Josh says. "Hello?"

"Y/N jeez I've been buzzing up to your flat for ages are you just waking up?"

"Joe-uh-yeah I'm just waking." I look at Josh wide eyed and he deflates into the bed. We were going to be found out!

"Can I come up at least!"

"What are you doing here?" I manage to ask.

"I told you last night we would do something today to make up for it. Y/N you remember right? It's 1pm!"

"Right," I vaguely remember. I grab my robe and slip it on, walking out to the hall to buzz Joe in. "I'll see you in a bit."

"Shit Y/N!" Josh says when I come back into the room. "What do we do?"

"Okay," I run my fingers through my hair, I was really in deep. "You stay here in bed, don't show up. I'll sit Joe in the front and get ready in the bathroom. We'll leave and I'll text you when you're clear to go? He'll never have to know."

"Okay yeah," Josh agrees. "Just make sure to hide my things from the front."

Right, I place Josh's shoes in the closet and throw his jacket into the room with him just in time to hear Joe knocking.

"Oh, you really did get up." Joe comments when I open the door. I blush, in trying to clean up any evidence of Josh in the living room I forgot to look at myself in the mirror. When I catch my reflection, I burn with embarassment. My hair was a mess and I had remnants of top eyeliner on my cheekbones.

"You want anything?" I ask Joe as I grab a makeup wipe and take off last night's makeup.

"I'm good, late night?" Joe sits on the couch and watches me remove my makeup.

"Kind of. What did you wanna do today?"

"Thought we could grab lunch. Just hang out, I want to redeem my behaviour from yesterday so I'm even willing to go to one of those museums you loved to visit on school trips."

I laugh, I can't believe Joe remembered. "I haven't been to one in years Joe! I'd love that!"

"Yeah? Perfect! I just have to let Josh know I can't film with him and Mikey today then."

"Wait what?" I panic. Josh? Did he know or was I being paranoid.

"I was supposed to film with them today but I'll ask him to do it tomorrow. It's not a big deal."

"Oh, right!" I act casual but my heart is racing. "I'll just...get ready quick."

Just as I think we're in the clear, a phone goes off in the kitchen. But not my phone. The ring tone is distinct and it belongs to Josh's phone. I watch Joe's face go from confused to a realisation and then to a dark shade of angry. I stand frozen as Joe finally meets my eye.

"You went home with Josh," he says plainly.

"Well," I say but I have a hard time even explaining myself. Joe looks so upset and disappointed with me and it's like we're 10 and I've just told him the girl he has a crush in finds him weird.

"Hey," Josh shows up behind me. "Y/N your spare futon sucks. Oh hey Joe, didn't hear you come in." Josh puts on a whole one-man act as he goes searching for his phone. "Have you seen my phone I thought I heard the ring tone."

"In the kitchen," I manage to say. Joe looks between us with suspicion so I try to cover up. "Josh and I had a nice chat last night, catching up since we lost each other's numbers. I let him crash since it got so late."

Joe nods but I can tell he doesn't believe me. "Why haven't I got to sleep on your spare futon?" He asks and my heart sinks. He was testing the story, cheeky little Sugg.

"Trust me bro, you don't want to." Josh calls out. "You can try laying in it, you'll split your back."

I want to tape Josh's mouth shut. Why was he carrying on the story! "Maybe I will," Joe says as he gets up and walks past me to the guest room. I don't have time to find Josh and slap him across the face so I run after Joe. But when I get to the guest room, the guest bed is disheveled and a button up lays crumpled on the floor as does Josh's jacket. Wow, Youtubers really knew how to out on a prank and this one just saved our asses.

"This is solid like a rock," Joe says from the bed. He's relaxed again and I can tell he's bought the story but I want to cry from all the anxiety it caused me.

"It's not like I ever have people sleeping over." I joke.

"You should change that," Joe says and he gives me that look again. Like the one from last night where he means more than he's saying.

"Okay!" I clap my hands. "I'm getting ready-half an hour max!"

Joe groans, but he heads back to where Josh is. I apply my makeup with shaky hands.

Josh ends up joining us for lunch. When we get a moment alone while Joe finds his car, I yell at him for being so callous and then praise him for his quick thinking. And somehow, Josh and I are not awkward at all as we all hang together. We laugh and talk about things like we'd been friends all alone.

Josh leaves as we head to the museum and Joe decides he wants to see the popular paintings first. I take a few pictures of him and he forces me to take some too, making me promise I would update my Instagram.

We find ourselves walking along the river while the sun begins to set and it colours the sky in magnificent colours.

"Are sunsets as romantic as sunrises?" Joe asks.

"What?" I look at him, confused.

"From Zoe's place, the sunrise you said was romantic. Are sunsets just as romantic?"

"Oh," I laugh. "Sunsets are definitely more romantic in my opinion."

"Yeah?" Joe asks as he holds out his hand to me. I take it gently and he pulls me towards the railings where a bench lays. We sit on the bench, my hand in Joe's which rests in his lap. The sky begin to darken as the sun sinks lower but the sky remains a kaleidoscope of oranges and pinks.

"You're actually right," Joe finally says. "This is gorgeous and romantic."

"Yeah," I laugh. I glance at my hand still in his lap and my heart can't help but skip a beat. "Joe?" I get his attention. "How do you manage to do this?"

"Do what?" He lets go of my hand to face me. "What you mean?"

"I dunno," I say flustered. "You're generally-you rarely take anything seriously...but then you sit here with me and I experience such a serene moment with you watching this sunset. I don't think any boyfriend's ever made me feel this way. But you're just Joseph, y'know? But you're also...you're not. You've grown up and I barely noticed." I finish, my voice a whisper.

"I hope that's a good thing." Joe states.

"Yeah..." I pull out his contact information from my phone and try to counteract the tense moment I'd created. "But you're also this kid." I show him his half-lidded grade school photo I have for his contact.

"Y/N!" He tries to grab my phone but I snatch it away. "That's not funny I've already asked you to take it down!"

"Never," I cackle but when Joe threatens to use a horrible picture of me I pretend to agree. But there was no way I was actually doing it.

"So wait are you saying I'm mature?" Joe goes on.

"Okay I never said that," I tease. "But matured, yeah."

"Hm," he says and leans back with a thoughtful expression.

"Do you want to go back to mine?" I ask. What was I doing! My feelings were in a mess enough spending the whole day with him and now I was inviting him back? But a part of me just wanted to say 'f it' and kiss him already. I wanted this weird tension to be over, to confirm if he felt for me what I felt for him. And whether what I felt for him was legit.

"Do I get to sleepover on the rock solid bed?" He questions while we make our way back.

"My bed's pretty comfortable," I flirt. He stops in the middle of walking and stares at me, shocked.

"I can't believe you just said that."

"What? We've had sleepovers before," I say innocently.

"Right," Joe runs his hands through his locks and goes along with it. But I take note of the way he reacted just as I wanted him to.

[high5nerd]

Alone Together---Chap. Fourteen

I thought it would be hilarious to take the girls out on a mini weekend vacation right in the middle of a blizzard. They've been cooped up in the house for too long, to the point Alice was finding entertainment by spiking her coffee.

Their faces when I told them we're going on a trip was priceless.

"Wait...where?" Sadie asked with her mouth full of Rice Krispies.

"We're going to New Zealand. Camping, hiking, all that good fun. You have been moping for too long and it's making me want to mope around." I said, shaking a finger at her.

Alice sat down across from me, still groggy since it was morning and her auburn hair messy from sleep. Her coffee sloshed around in her reindeer mug, almost spilling onto her left hand. She looked at me through squinted eyes from the light of the kitchen, causing me to grin at her appearance.

"What? Do I look like the Loch Ness monster?" she asked.

"More like a nightmare." I snickered, and she whacked my arm at the name calling.

Sadie almost snorted out milk from her nose, and then agreed with me, causing her sister to glare at her.

"I'll pour coffee into your cereal."

"I'll spit it into your cup."

"You can go from motherly one minute to sisterly the next," I rolled my eyes at their bickering.

"How can we go to New Zealand when we're in the middle of a blizzard?" Sadie asked as she stirred her cereal to turn the milk brown.

I grinned, "You still have that snowglobe North gave you?"

Sadie immediately beamed and nodded. Alice gave a confused look to Sadie and then to myself. Just seeing the look of confusion on Alice's face on how we could even possibly get there was hysterical. I love surprising people.

As Sadie ran to go retrieve the snow globe, I explained to Alice how the contraption works. Alice seemed to think I was kidding, but she ended up getting herself ready by finding her wallet and dressing warmly.

Sadie would not stop bouncing around in excitement, her arms holding a bag with her bathing suit and some activities like a book of hers and a couple of pens to bring along.

"We can go to the beach and run all over the hills and-!" she rushed, nearly dropping the crystal globe in her hand.

"Sadie, just throw it. The sooner you do that the sooner we get to have fun from this snow."

The view where we ended up was beautiful, and unlike the dark blizzard that occurred back home this place had the sun high in the sky, bearing down warmness that made Alice shed off her jacket and gloves. We stood in a clearing far away from any city or town life, surrounded by the forest. Sadie drew in a happy sigh as the wind rustled the green leaves up above, beams of light shedding through thick branches and draping curtains of leaves and willow branches.

"It's beautiful…" Alice murmured, not noticing Sadie giggle and run off in one direction.

I smiled, about to open my mouth and comment that her own beauty couldn't match the forest, but then Sadie tripped on a tree root, falling flat on her stomach. Alice heard her yelp, and immediately drew in a fearful breath.

"Sadie?!" Alice asked, and I could see her body battling with her mind whether to stay put or run over to see if her sister broke anything.

"I'm okay!" Sadie looked back, holding up her sneaker, "My shoelace came undone!"

"Idiot." Alice rolled her eyes, heaving a big sigh of relief.

Sure enough, Sadie found a burbling creek close to the clearing, the floor of it covered in smooth pebbles. Sadie was changed into her yellow and white floral bathing suit and splashing around in the creek, scaring away fishes and jumping from rock to rock.

Alice and I sat on a fallen log near the creek, her pants rolled up so she could dip her feet into the cool and calming water. She had a peaceful smile on her face, and that made me feel a lot better than seeing her look bored back home.

Sadie lifted up a rock and grinned, "Pitch! Look how big this one is!" she called.

I nodded, "That's impressive. You could put it on the bank to dry and then paint it with the paints you brought if you wanted to."

I heard Alice giggle at Sadie's shocked face that quickly broke out into a wild grin, "You're a genius!" And with that, tossed the giant rock onto the bank and began searching for more smooth rocks to paint on.

"Darn right I am." I muttered so only Alice could hear, and she laughed at my playful jab. Her laugh always made me smile.

"Thanks for bringing us here. We really needed a break from the snow." Alice said, looking at her hands that gripped the log so she wouldn't fall off.

"It's nothing." Was all I could say while looking at my feet in the water. I looked over at Alice's feet. They were much smaller than mine, and her toes were so tiny. A scar ran along the ball of her left foot to her big toe, a paler shade than her normal skin color.

Alice noticed my staring and smirked, "Got it while running in the woods, back before Sadie was born. I was an idiot and didn't listen to Dad's warning about being barefoot, and I ended up cutting it from either a rock or a branch, I can't recall. Sadie actually thinks I stepped on a sword while fighting the monsters under her bed."

I snorted at that, "She actually believes that?"

Alice grinned and shrugged her shoulders lightheartedly, "Cause I told her that when she was six."

That made me laugh, and that caused Sadie to look over at us in curiosity before continuing to try grabbing fish that sped by her still ankles.

"Does she know that the monster under the bed was probably me?"

"If it was, you would recall getting hit multiple times with a softball bat," Alice rolled her eyes, "Sadie stole my bat and woke up the entire house with her banging….I think that was just an excuse to get some stress out."

I noticed Alice's pause there when she returned her gaze to the scar on her foot, the water rippled around her toes and her ankles.

"...What happened? What do you mean by stress?" I asked, taking her hand in mine.

She gave a small smile as her fingers laced with mine like knitting, and said softly, "She made the mistake of telling kids at school that she was friends with the Sandman. The kids in her grade thought it was interesting and such, but the word got out to the older kids in the school and they pushed her around and tormented her for it. She didn't tell our parents anything until the school called…"

I waited, knowing where this was going.

"Sadie threw a punch at a sixth grader, and gave him a black eye. Even his own eye was red…" Alice looked up at Sadie's form bending over to peer at a turtle, "that was the only time she's ever hurt anyone. She would never even hurt a spider. But because the older kids have power in the school, she lost friends. They thought she was strange."

"Kind of like your story you told me." I said, removing my hand from hers and gently touching her shoulder.

Alice sighed, a sigh that meant the conversation was over and the event was back in the past.

"Yep!" She smiled, "So I guess that's what also makes us closer, right?"

I smiled, and kissed her forehead. She grinned, and without a warning gently pushed my chest, causing me to fall off the log and splash behind it. I spluttered out water, rubbing my face to get water out of my eyes. She laughed, her white smile glimmering in the sunlight and her hair looked like fire. She looked like a human phoenix….which in a sense, she was.

I grinned evilly, and before she could notice my hand creeping towards her, yanked her in as well so she fell on top of me, her legs straddling my waist. Alice gasped, her clothes immediately getting wet along with the ends of her hair.

I laughed at her expression and tucked a strand of wet hair behind her ear, her laugh half muffled from my ears being submerged in water. Alice quickly kissed my nose, but once she pulled back I pulled her back in to kiss her. We still smiled through our kiss, and Alice was holding back giggles as her arms wrapped around my shoulders.

"You guys better not be foolin' around back there! I don't want this water getting contaminated by love cooties!" Sadie called from the bankside.

I almost choked on water when I laughed even harder at that, and the fact that Alice was blushing like mad was making it harder to restrain myself to just a chuckle.

Sadie was back at the campsite in her tent, fast asleep while Alice and I walked along the creek, listening to the soft babble and tiny splishes against rocks and branches that gently caressed the surface. The moonlight shone brilliantly on the water, making the water sparkle and gleam with the additional starlight. Alice and I held hands tightly as we walked downwards towards the bed of rock that Sadie was near before. It was just us enjoying the silence.

Alice cast a look up at the moon, and whispered out, "Is he watching us right now?"

I looked up with her, noticing the moon was full. No words whispered through the air, so I assumed he wasn't watching us. Maybe focusing on his other spirit 'children'. I squeezed her hand reassuringly, thinking she was scared of the thought of being watched.

"Not sure. Doubtful...there are many of us he watches over."

"How many?" she asked, looking at me with wonder.

I smirked, and twirled her in a circle before pulling her close, her back pressed against my chest, "Probably more than a hundred. Every personification and entity you can think of exists…"

Alice softly laughed, her hands tightening around my fingers, "I can think of a lot."

I grinned and gently tugged at her hips, making her laugh before turning around. She saw me heading in a different direction, and her smile faded in curiousity.

"Pitch?"

"Follow me," I beckoned her close, "There's something I want to show you."

We had to carefully step over slippery rocks and fallen logs, even scrape by leafless bushes before stumbling upon a pool of water, so crystal clear it envied the Caribbean seas. Giant ferns scattered along the edge of the pool here and there, and there was a waterfall leaking out from a pile of rocks that had moss dotted around it. Flowers bloomed fully, their petals not even closed due to the moonlight.

"Whoa…" Alice breathed, stepping forward as if in a trance.

"It's called the Pool of Reveries. Some old spirits come here to meditate to regain sense of who they are and what they once were. I thought of sharing it with you...well...cause…."

I couldn't say it. My words got caught in my throat. What was intended as an informative statement turned into something sappy, and you know fairly well I'm not a very sappy person. I hate sappy.

Alice caught my stumble and she knew my struggle to keep myself looking older...more, I don't know, unaffected by the entire concept of love and such. Boogeyman-material, let's call it that. She came closer to me, her chest almost against mine and her neck craned upwards. I knew she was teasing me.

"Because?" she asked, tilting her head to the side in a playful manner. I huffed and looked away.

"You know why." I muttered, but felt Alice's body against mine and her breath on my neck.

"I want you to say it." Alice whispered, her hands barely grazing up my chest. That caused me to shiver. I needed those hands right then and there, without our clothes on. In the water. Making love until dawn.

"I…" my breath shook, "I love you...and I want you in my life...you mean the world to me...more than anyone else."

As if I had anyone else besides her. But it was true. I'd rather have her than a thousand friends, or even a large family or connections I once lost back in time. She was all I needed, and saying that to her under the full moon made a great weight lift from my shoulders. I felt an emotion similar to the feeling of success, hope and love...all mixed into one. How a being like me was capable of finding this love, not even I knew.

"I love you too, Pitch. A whole lot…" Alice kissed me gently before pulling away, "And I want you in my life, too."

"We're even, fair and square." I grinned, and that made her laugh as she closed her eyes, our foreheads touching in peace.

...Until we heard crying.

At first I thought it was just in my mind. It started out soft, almost unnoticeable to the ear. By the time I recognized the sound, I thought it came from Alice. We shared confused looks, thinking one of us was making that noise. Alice was fine, not a single tear was shed from her chocolate-colored eyes, and she looked just as curious as me to where the sound of crying was coming from.

It wasn't soft, gentle crying. It was sobbing. In pain sobbing. Alice and I immediately felt the world crash around us. What was once a state of just us, enveloped in our own love turned into sheer panic. Sadie. That's all we could think. It had to be her. Something was happening when we were gone. The light of the moon seemed to vanish quickly, and it took me a second to realize the reason it vanished was because we were running towards Sadie's crying.

"How long were we out there?" Alice asked, and I could sense her fear in her question as she ran close to my side.

I honestly didn't know. I knew it was a long period of time, and we both assumed Sadie would be fine by herself near the tents, sleeping soundly near the crackling fire. Maybe she rolled too close to it and accidentally touched the flames? Maybe she got scared of being alone? I didn't sense any fear in Sadie's direction, only from Alice and myself.

"A long time. I just hope-" but the sight before me cut me dead off.

Sadie was crumpled to the ground in agony, sobbing hysterically at ghostly images of those who bullied her and teachers that looked down upon her, and they whispered hateful and demeaning words to the ten year old. Tears stained her cheeks, so much her face was red.

And the girl in the blue dress happily skipping around her and laughing…

Was Misery.

Anger filled up inside me. This little brat had the audacity to hurt a child that I would consider something close to a daughter? For so long I've suffered the same way Sadie has, and nothing would stop me from what I was going to do to Misery for harming her.

"You're so pathetic, it's laughable!" Misery giggled, patting Sadie's head. Sadie shirked away from her freezing cold, clammy touch, and bit her hand to hold back a scream of agony.

Time slowed down, when Misery looked up. Her smile turned horrified when she noticed I was sprinting towards her. With an angry scream, I blasted her with my nightmare sand, sending her careening backwards towards the trunk of a sturdy tree. Alice was shouting, but I couldn't listen.

I wanted Misery dead.

She targeted me for years, drove me insane, and now she was going to target those who I loved most. Seeing Sadie bend over like that in defeat...broke me. I've seen Alice in her worst, and Misery wasn't even there to cause that. I hated seeing them suffer, and now I have someone to take it out on.

My feelings got the better of me. When I slammed Misery's body into the tree, she made no noise. She just wore a horrified expression at my audacity to harm another spirit. It wasn't against the rules to hurt another one, but...she was in the form of a child. An old spirit like her that used to look like a hag took the form of an innocent child, thinking that image would protect her. But it didn't in this case. Even if she looked like Sadie's age, I still pummelled her into the tree. I heard the bark crack, and that loud noise echoed throughout the forest.

"PITCH, STOP!" Alice screamed.

That got me out of my stupor. I didn't realize what I was doing...I was making it worse. God, so much more worse. The two people I love witnessed me hurt another being...even if my mind said she deserved it, it was no excuse. It wasn't valid.

I looked back and saw Alice and Sadie's scared expressions, feeling my heart break into tiny pieces. That's all I could do...was make people fearful. Scared. Terrified…

"Let her go, Pitch." Alice whispered out, holding onto Sadie like a lifeline, "She's gotten her punishment."

"You don't understand!" I shouted, glaring back at Misery who was fucking brave enough to give an innocent smile, "This little rodent has been making me miserable for centuries, targeting me to the point I cave in to insanity. Now she's targeting those I love and she's going to pay for it!"

"Kill me and you'll kiss your sorry immortal life goodbye. Not like you had one anyways." Misery said before a nightmare wrapped around her throat and lifted her into the air.

"I'd rather have none than see you exist." I hissed at her.

Sadie started whimpering again, and quickly turned away from the sight of a girl her age being strangled in the air.

"Pitch, I get it! She deserves it, but doing this won't solve anything. You're better than this."

"No you're not." Misery choked out.

"Don't listen to her!" Sadie shouted, glaring at Misery, "She's just jealous because no one cares about her!"

Misery's smug face fell, and her eyes looked over at Sadie. I looked back, too. I wasn't expecting her to be standing in front of Alice as if she was the one worth protecting. The nightmare I controlled gently let Misery back down, but she made no move.

"What did you say?" she asked, her voice quivering.

"You're jealous of Pitch because he's finally gotten something you never had. You only were around him because he had nothing like you, and you're mad at him because now he has what you've always wanted." Sadie said, stepping closer.

"Sadie, get back to Alice. Now." I said sternly, but Sadie ignored me.

"That's not it at all!" Misery stamped her foot, "I like making people miserable! That's why I'm here! Not like you have a purpose here on Earth."

"YOU LITTLE-!" I heard Alice scream, but she made no move to lunge at her like I did before.

Sadie shook like a leaf at her sister's ferocious tongue, but continued to talk to Misery. I couldn't help but feel a smirk tug at my cheeks. Sadie was guilt tripping her.

"You lie but you know I'm right. You're just mad because you never got what you wanted. You're selfish. You're self-centered. The people who bullied me were, too. You're just like them."

"No I'm not! I'm...I'm miserable like you are!" Misery's bluish tears started dripping down her cheeks, "He...he just got what he deserved!"

"No he didn't."

"He's a monster! All he does is make people be afraid of things that you wouldn't understand. He's just a freak that will never be loved, nor cared about!"

I was about to spit a curse at Misery when I heard Sadie whisper out, "...Really?"

I turned to look at her, surprised that this little ten year old found her voice. She was standing up to her. Alice looked surprised too, even hopeful. For so long Sadie was put down, and now she was standing firm. She was strong.

"Go look in a mirror." Sadie said coolly.

Ouch. That was a fatal blow, especially to someone like Misery. Misery's body quivered at the verbal rock Sadie threw at her, her lower lip trembled. With a last raging breath, she shouted at me.

"I never want to see you again!"

And like that, she was gone. Her body turned into mist, as if she melted into the darkness.

There was a cold silence between the three of us. I could only look from where Misery once stood to Sadie's face, who looked just as shocked as I did at her own bravery. Alice glanced between us, her mouth open as if words wanted to spew forth but nothing came.

"Sadie..." Alice said, touching her shoulder.

Sadie let out a long breath, one of relief. But even releasing that tension didn't make her any better. I saw it in her eyes. Immediately, I reacted when I saw her legs give out, wobbling like a puppet doll's.

I ran over and caught her, hearing her try to hold back more tears. Alice started panicking, but I quickly calmed her down before she could freak out and possibly worry Sadie even more.

"Get the container of hot water and make her hot chocolate, she needs something warm. I'll sit her by the fire." I said, standing up.

"What's wrong with her?" Alice asked, her voice still frantic as she hurried over to the fire pit.

"Misery's own work is ten times as worse as just feeling misery on its own. To the point it causes depression...I should know." I murmured, holding Sadie close. Her nervous breathing subsided a bit, and I could still feel her sad heart beat.

You would know by now I'm not well educated in the comforting area of life, but like I said before, seeing Sadie suffer the same way I did made me know what to do. When I dealt with that, I knew I wanted at least a person to hear me talk or be surrounded in warmth instead of coldness...a feeling inflicted by Misery to make it stay longer inside the person's soul. Misery's work was so strong and long lasting, I've seen humans hurt themselves due to it, do anything radical and fatal to make the emotional pain go away. I couldn't risk that now.

Alice watched me gently sit Sadie down near the fire, and I grabbed a nearby sleeping bag and wrapped it around her.

"How bad do you feel?" I asked, touching her head.

"I feel like I'm worthless…" Sadie's voice wavered, "...like she was right."

I heard Alice mutter, Well Misery could go fuck herself. Good thing Sadie didn't hear that. I knew Alice was protective of her sister, so seeing how conflicted and angry she was for the safety and love of her baby sister was welcomed greatly. Just...not those choice of words.

"Misery is a liar, and she tells people that to make them feel bad. She's heartless and cruel, which you are not. Not one bit. You hear?" I said, sitting next to her.

"But-" Sadie started as she accepted the mug of hot chocolate from Alice.

"I can list five traits of you right off the bat. You're fun, compassionate, brave, smart, and very important to those around you." I said sternly so she could hear my honesty.

Sadie blinked, and looked up at me. I wasn't sure if she was understanding what I meant by important, but then I saw the glimmer of hope in her eyes.

"Sadie, you're the one thing that's meant a lot to me since our parents died. You kept me in reality and you kept giving me faith that things will get better. You're really important to me." Alice said, sitting next to her and rubbing her back.

"You're the reason your sister and I are together as one, so I have that to thank you for." I said with a smile.

Sadie rolled her eyes and smirked into her cup, "You wouldn't do it yourself, I had to help you somehow."

Alice and I smiled at that, which made Sadie sit up a little straighter. She looked between us, her eyes getting brighter.

By now Sadie was saying things quietly, things she knew that proved her importance to others, "I'm important to Gramma because she loves me. I'm important to Lucy because we're best friends since kindergarten, and Mom and Dad say I'm important because they called me their Little Angel. Right?"

Alice kissed the top of her head, "Exactly. You feeling better yet?"

Sadie slowly nodded, but then looked at me. "Why would Misery come and find us?"

I pursed my lips tight, not really wanting to answer that. This was partially my fault from the beginning. What was intended as a vacation from the cold up north turned into a horrible nightmare.

"I know that look, Pitch," Alice warned, "Don't you dare go blaming yourself now. This isn't your fault."

"If I hadn't brought you two here none of this would've happened." I shot back, and Alice furrowed her brows, completely disagreeing with me.

"But I wouldn't have gone swimming! I had fun today. Besides this...I had fun!" Sadie protested.

I sadly smiled, ruffling her hair gently. "I know...I just don't like seeing you two suffer because of me."

"We aren't." Alice said, albeit dangerously, to the point I thought we would have an argument.

That made me instantly silent. I did not want to anger Alice, especially after she witnessed her little sister in agony at the hands of Misery.

"What matters is that it's over...And we're safe. She's gone for good, and she'll no longer bother you anymore." Alice said, cupping her hand to my face.

I guess she was right...now that Misery had sworn she never wanted to see me again, I was free. I no longer would deal with the inner turmoil, insanity and utter sadness that her powers would plague me with. The cloud of depression I dealt with for so long could finally disappear, like I've always wanted. I could finally walk without dread of running into her again, and not fear of her hurting my loved ones…

"You're free, Pitch." Sadie said, beaming.

I'm...I'm free.

[ironidemic]

Killing Time: Part III

The following week felt like hell: seven aimless days and seven sleepless nights plodding on in an agonizing procession. Wendy skipped school to avoid hearing any mention of Rachel: the whispers of unanswered calls and missed cheer practices that drifted through the halls, the beat of silence that followed when her name was called for attendance-- nowhere was safe. This forced her to spend hours alone in her room, lying in bed and chain-smoking cigarettes, fully absorbed in her own tumultuous thoughts and raging self-hatred. The events of that night replayed on loop in her mind as she stared up at the cracks in the ceiling paint, searching for a way she could have made it all end differently. Eventually she was able to sort it all out, to reason with herself. Even if Wendy had stayed quiet in that moment, it would have only been a matter of time before the spirit demanded a human offering. Even if she refused to hurt Rachel, Rourke would not have hesitated. He was programmed that way, thinking in terms of action and consequence, sacrifice and survival. It all circled back to the beginning, when she and all the others first agreed to participate in the rituals, blissfully ignorant as they set their gruesome fate into motion. When the last night finally came, Wendy knew what she had to do. She left the house with nicotine in her veins and her father’s gun tucked into the waistband of her shredded black jeans, vowing to end this, whatever it took.

    Fragments lamplight and shadow patterned trainyard in hazy shades of yellow and gray. Rusted steel cars and tracks scattered the terrain, a labyrinth that created countless places to hide from the outside world as the dirty work was done. Wendy approached through a tunnel, graffitied walls of connected cars closing her in on either side. She could see Steve and Rourke in the distance, busy assembling a pile of scrap wood into a pile, ready to be burned. Her pulse quickened as she approached, one step at a time until Steve spotted her and there was no longer an option of turning back.

Steve ran over to Wendy when he saw her, bending down to her height and squeezing her shoulder in affirmation, a gesture far more affectionate than what she was used to receiving from him. “We’re gonna finish it tonight,” he said, as if trying to reassure himself just as much as Wendy. “Then we’ll be free.” He looked so tired, with dark circles under his eyes that made him look years older, like the carefree part of him had been smothered, the life drained out of him. Wendy nodded, but kept her eyes on Rourke, who was absentmindedly examining the blade of his pocket knife only a few meters away. She swallowed hard to suppress the dread that had lodged itself inside her stomach.

    “I won’t do it. This has gone too far. I won’t participate in the ritual.”   

Steve stared with a look of plaintive shock on his face, stunned into hopeless silence. Rourke stood, his eyes flat and cold as he advanced towards Wendy. “When are you going to get it through your thick skull? You really think you’re being righteous right now, don’t you? You’re just going to get us all killed! Give it up, you don’t have a choice!” The blade of the knife flashed in his hand, but Wendy stood her ground.

    “We have to face this mess we’ve made. Even if we do finish the ritual, if we do everything that the darkness wants us to, things won’t get better. Rachel will always be there, haunting us in every little memory, every reminder that she’s gone and we killed her. Can you live like that?” Her voice broke, hot tears welling up in her eyes and spilling over her cheeks. “Can you fucking carry on knowing that?” Rourke took a step forward, and Wendy backed away, shaking her head and refusing to break eye contact.

    “If you don’t shut up and do your part, I swear to God, won’t hesitate to kill you.” Each word was enunciated and clear. Wendy could see the veins running red in his eyes.

    “Rourke, stop it!”

    “Stay the fuck out of this, Steve.” Rourke yelled, pointing the knife in his direction.

    “You never loved her. You never loved Rachel.” Wendy said, her voice barely a whisper.

    Rourke charged, pushing Wendy to the ground and punching her over and over in the face. The gravel sliced open her cheek, and each blow sent pain deeper into her skull, making her vision go black around the edges.

    “You don’t know what you’re talking about, you little cunt!” He screamed, spit flying from his mouth in unhinged fury. Wendy tried to push him off of her with her knees, fumbling to reach the gun tucked into the waistband of her jeans. She managed to get her finger around the trigger, but Rourke knocked her arm to the side, causing the bullet to fly past his face and hit the ground a few yards back. Wendy hesitated, stunned by the sound of the gunshot echoing through the night, and Rourke reacted quickly, aiming a punch at her windpipe. Wendy choked, her grip on the handle of the gun loosening just long enough for Rourke to knock it out of her hand. He buried the point of the knife in Wendy’s chin, and she cried out in pain, silently praying to anything that would listen and preparing for the worst, when Steve’s boot hit Rourke in the side, knocking him off of Wendy and onto the ground. Rourke recovered in seconds, this time flying towards Steve with fists raised.

Wendy could do nothing but watch helplessly as they exchanged blows, drifting in and out of consciousness and struggling to hear what they were saying over the ringing in her ears. Soon Steve was on the ground, and Rourke was hitting him in the face, stomach, and ribs, blood staining his bruised knuckles.

“I gave up everything for this,” he mumbled, breathing heavily. “We could have had the power to change our miserable, pointless lives… and now it’s all gone.”

Wendy’s head throbbed, her face sticky with her own blood. Pain shot through her arm as she felt for the gun beside her, grasping at nothing. Something sleek and black caught the light in the corner of her eye, and with the last of her strength, she gradually turned onto her stomach and crawled towards it, her only hope. Her hand closed around the barrel, and a wave of relief washed over her. With great effort, she pulled herself onto her feet, bracing herself on a nearby train car. She aimed, managing to steady her shaking arms before firing, eyes shut tight. Rourke fell, a bullet embedded into his back. Wendy’s shoulders sagged, and she dropped the gun by her side. Nothing moved. Silence.

Rourke’s body was stiff and contorted at an odd angle, his head lolling to the side. Blood soaked through his white t-shirt where his spine had been shattered by the bullet. Shaking with each breath, Wendy slowly approached the corpse, trying to find some sort of solidity, proof that the last few moments were real and not her own twisted delusion. The stench of rot grew stronger as she approached, and when she finally gathered the courage to look at him, Wendy bent over and throw up. It appeared as though Rourke had been dead for days, his body already showing signs of decay. Maggots squirmed beneath ashen gray skin, covered with liquid-filled blisters and hanging slack from his muscles. His eyes stared at her solemnly, blank and mirror-like, as if his soul had already left him long ago. Wendy’s chest continued to heave even when there was nothing left in her stomach. This all had to be a nightmare, it couldn’t be real. She never meant to kill Rourke, and would have allowed herself time to regret it, but there were more pressing matters at hand.

Steve laid motionless not two feet away, his face a disfigured mess painted in shades of crimson and burgundy. Cuts on his lip and forehead still seeped fresh blood, and his nose stuck out at a crooked angle, most likely broken. Wendy stopped in her tracks when her eyes fell on the stab wounds in his stomach, six in total, the blood barely visible on the black fabric of his shirt. Her hand trembled as she touched his chest, feeling for a pulse, a breath, a movement, any indication that there was some hope of saving him. Steve was the only one she had left, the only one who could understand all that happened, the nightmare that would haunt her for the rest of her life. Wendy needed him alive, but all she could feel was his cold, lifeless flesh against her skin. She stood and stumbled backwards, her vision blurred with tears.

Wendy couldn’t breathe, like something had lodged itself in her throat, choking her. It was over. They were all dead: Rachel, Rourke, Steve. She desperately wanted to feel nothing, to be overcome by the same numbness that had saved her days before, but now there was no such mercy. She felt everything: the emptiness eating away in her stomach, the heavy sorrow in her heart, the spiraling confusing in her head. It was all too much, and she kept repeating to herself that this wasn’t happening, it couldn’t be happening. Everything was spinning out of control, reality crumbling before her eyes. Wendy tripped over the edge of a railroad tie, falling backwards onto the track. She was vaguely aware of the light in the distance, the vibration of the steel beneath her, the roaring in her ears; but she was frozen in place, paralyzed by something outside of herself. A whistle shrieked its warning, and the brakes sparked and screeched, metal on metal, a futile attempt to stop the roaring machine. Something about it felt right. Blood would be repaid in blood, all the loose ends neatly tied. She thought of her parents briefly, wondering if they would be proud of her, if they would even miss her when she was gone. Her breath hitched when she realized that they would, but she knew she had to do this; it was the inevitable fate she had bargained for. Wendy braced herself, waiting to be pitched into heaven or hell, whichever would take her first, and the world went dark.

[historictyrant-blog]

From Galvatron to Megatron;

The white mech weakly swatted the air at the sudden change of lighting in the area, orange optics opening carefully while squinting here and there. Their head turns over to the right of them, towards the entrance of the place he harbored, where the sun casts rays of light into. “Who dares disturb my humble palace…” Galvatron finally spoke, the hand that once waved in the air now grabbed onto a metal pillar next to his throne, rising to his feet after witnessing an indistinguishable shadow cover the vicinity; blocking out the blinding light of the sun.

“Megatron.” They—she, said. The voice was feminine and echoed throughout the chambers of this palace like an angelic symphony. Galvatron growled at that name, crushing the metal pillar in his grasp, throwing it aside and aggressively stomping towards the creature; body fidgeting with the multiple personalities in him. “I am Galvatron!!!” He flexed in the air before fists smash into the metal floor below, leaning forward and crouched to tower his menacing face over this intruder... She was left unfazed, almost snickering at that silly new name they adorned despite his radical reactions. “Oh… What have you done to yourself, my child?” A hand reached up to pat his face, suddenly causing the hole in his chest to choke, loudly whirring then dying out, back and forth. Galvatron wheezed, holding his chest while frantically grunting. Claws prod along the edge of the hole, desperately trying to figure out what’s wrong before… nothing happened—it suddenly returned to normal. “What… have you... done to me...?” Metal brows drop, the once raging mech now seemingly calm, very calm… Almost subdued by their touch. “I’ve fixed that thick head of yours, crazy old fool.” She smirked, playing words with him. “Have you conformed to these creatures so much that you’ve forgotten yourself?” “No…” One fist leaves the ground to clench in the air now at the claim, slowly returning to its place. “No, I just… got lost. Been… Lost. For many stellar cycles now...” That’s not what she meant, but he was certainly Megatron again now that everything was hitting him with a clear mind, a grounded hand curls, talons sinking into the metal floor while the sounds of metal breaking under his might echo in the room. “You never answered my Question, who are you… What are you…” Orange optics narrow intensely upon the deceiver. “I am your Maker.” Her eyes flash a daunting purple, causing Megatron’s own eyes to jump a tad. “But… I’m an anomaly to the AllSpark. There is no other power capable of creation, no God.” He claimed, free hand covering his soulless chest in slight shame at being a freak of nature. “Don’t be so naive, you think a being as… perfect, and powerful as you was a mistake? No… a gift, if anything.” They offered a sincere smile, it wasn’t flattery. He was truly admirable; in his real form. “Now, let us get rid of that man-made trash...” They raised a hand, a blue pulse of energy striking Megatron down to his knees, getting a grunt out of him before the mech could retaliate the strike; her tentacles latch around his servos and thighs to hold him in place, Megatron flexing and tugging away from their grasp. “I am Megatron! I refuse to be—..” He was cut off by another strike and loud groan of his own, body going limp as his helm dropped as well. “Hm, I guess Sentinel never taught you manners like he did with Orion.” She didn’t mean to insult, just an observation. Now that he was tamed, she worked her magic, his body began to glow blue like her own, waves of energy surrounding the area. Megatron’s white paint and parts were soon replaced with a more dark, rough shade of gray, round metal parts shifting into entirely new jagged forms that lock into place. Tentacles slowly leave him, now letting the process finish itself. Megatron nearly fell unconscious before waking up coughing, catching himself with hands against the ground to stay up, just moments away from dropping flat. With a weary vent, he began to rise and look at the newly adorn body. “Autonomous perfection…” He whispered to himself while optics glance at his clenching talons and eventually his bust. All anger he had with her was distracted by the promises she fulfilled... For now. The Goddess smirked up at Megatron, “Satisfied? Hm? I, your maker, Quintessa am capable of doing that.” She didn’t need an answer, she knew he was as Megatron was staring at the reflection of his body against a tall metal wall, stroking his cheek guards. “Quintessa… What is this.” He glared down at her, a talon pointing at the scar among his face. “That is my mark, you are mine after all.” Her head tilts, hovering to his side even when expecting a temper tantrum. “Megatron… belongs to no one!” He yanked his arm out to blast her, parts breaking at the action. “Grah!” He yelled out from the pain, it transformed. “My Mass-Shifting ability, what did you do?!” He held his right arm, grinding his denta down at her; the only thing keeping him from stomping her is their power… and curiosity. “Aw… You’ve must’ve forgotten how to transform properly under that fancy power of yours. Don’t worry, it’s been put away.” Megatron snarled, taking a step to tower over them while leaning in. “Give. It. Back.” Quintessa looked unamused now with his act of supremacy, she gave him that and now he wants to act all daunting? No-no. “You are a Transformer, no? Your kind isn’t ready for that evolution yet. You cheated, Megatron. Besides, human hands have limited its power. You’d only hurt yourself in the long run. But do not fret, my child… With my reign on Cybertron, I can give you everything you ever wanted; old and new.” Megatron vents, steam brushing past his metal face plating and newly sharp denta. Deep down he knew she was right, though the thoughtfulness soon broke at that single name: “Cybertron?! It’s… dead. How do you control it.” “Not dead. Just… adrift. Where I had enough time to… polish it up.” Optics flash as purple lines beam down into the palm of her lifted hand, producing a visual image of Cybertron. (Much like how Optimus showed Megatron’s story to Sam and Mikaela a decade ago.) The tyrant gasped. “What have you done?!" Despite it being partially his fault from his failed attempt with the space bridge, Megatron tries to punch her out of spite, only to be sent back by an electric shock; falling onto his back with a loud thump, he skids across the ground with metal shrieking under his massive frame. Coughing, nearly sobbing from the sight he just witnessed, guilt seeping into his processor along with the feeling of his ego broken being pushed down like that. Quintessa sighs, hovering over the downed mech. “If you had listened to me before crying out, you’d know that I was trying to save your planet. It isn’t pretty, I know. A sacrifice to keep it stable.” Megatron believed he knew better, this was his nightmare, to have some invader ruin his home like that. Trying to throw another punch despite the blow he just received. Tentacles catch his servos, pinning the mech down. “This was not suppose to be Cybertron's fate!” “Silence,” she sent another shock to him, causing Megatron to stop thrashing about, wheezing out another vent as if he was on his deathbed. “It can be saved… It’s okay…” She leaned a hand in to stroke his scarred cheek; the red scar glowing once more that sent a soothing wave of pleasure down Megatron’s mind and body. “And you know, you’ve tried it before. Haven’t you.” Megatron wearily lifted his helm, “Yes…” “Yes, now… will you listen to me?” Her tentacles sent another wave of soft shocks. “Grr… yes… Listen, not obey… You may only lay your mark upon me, that’s as far as your ego will take you!” “Hm,” she slowly released him, there was no reason to win him over through dominance. He’s willing to cooperate at least. “Good. Now. Shall we go home?” “Please…” He hasn’t seen, nor touched Cybertron in eons… A glimpse in the sky or through some hologram doesn’t count for him… He’s desperate to touch it just one more time, despite the pain that glimpse of it earlier brought.