#since he was at Chay's mercy

[the-cookie-of-doom]

Porchay: I was going to hold you for ransom

Kim: *heart eyes*

[lilbittymonster]

Day 24: Bar

Read on AO3

The Chai’s apartment was as lavish as the rest of Eulmore. The same deep green tiling with gold piping and marble pillars, high arching windows, full of plush furniture. The window of the parlor opened up to the south, and the view was of uninterrupted ocean between the heavy velvet curtains. In addition to the already lavish styling of the building itself were all manner of eclectic baubles and stacks of books between furniture. The effect was a rather precarious maze.

It was rather unsettling that Kitali once again found herself and Alphinaud at the mercy of the whims of strange nobles. If not for the clutter and the overly bright light pouring in through the window she could almost believe she was right back in the foyer of Fortemps Manor.

“Now, Alphinaud is our resident artist, but what exactly is it that you do, dear?” Dulia-Chai asked Kitali once they were settled.

“Um. Little bit of everything, I suppose,” she said haltingly. “I’m a bit of a serial hobbyist.”

“Ah. Self-sufficient,” Chai-Nuzz remarked. “An admirable trait to have in these times.”

“And what are your favourite hobbies?” Dulia-Chai asked intently, peering over the rim of her teacup.

“Needlework, mostly. Some woodcarving, some leather work. Mostly I keep my clothes from falling apart.”

“Needlework, darling, did you hear that?” Dulia-Chai said pointedly to her husband. “This young lady says she’s proficient in needlework.”

“Yes, I heard her correctly.”

“….Well?”

“Well, what?”

“Aren’t you going to ask about the ottoman? The one that’s over by the bar?”

Kitali and Alphinaud exchanged a bewildered look with each other as they bickered.

“Ottom-right, yes, the ottoman! If you could follow me for a moment, ah…” he stuttered a bit. “Begging your pardon, I don’t believe I got your name.”

“Kitali.”

“Kitali, if you could be so kind as to tell me whether or not this priceless family heirloom is salvageable?”

He led her over to a stack of what looked like table decorations tucked next to a wooden sidebar. Removing the odd shapes from their tangle and moving aside the stack of papers beneath, he revealed a worn footstool with intricate embroidery across the top. He pulled it forward out from the wall and motioned to her expectantly.

“This has been in my family since before the Flood,” he explained. “I’ve been meaning to get it repaired for some time now, but have been unable to find anyone up to the task of restoring it. Until today, I hope.”

Kitali knelt to inspect the wear. The corners of the wooden legs were scratched and dented from years of wear, but still sturdy enough. The padding had grown lumpy and some of the knots were frayed from the design on top, but the worst was the corner that looked like moths had gotten at it at some point.

“Well?” he asked, a touch impatiently.

“The frame’s still in good shape,” Kitali told him. “D’you want to have the original fabric repaired, or just remake the whole thing?”

“I, er…….dear, what do you think?” he called to his wife.

“Oh, I don’t mind either way, so long as I have something to rest my feet upon.”

Chai-Nuzz’s ears flattened as he considered.

“How difficult would it be to keep as much of the original design?”

Kitali straightened up. “Depends on what I can find. I can sew a patch over it, and it’ll be noticeable, but if I could find enough thread in the right colour I could just weave over it.”

“Well, I think we might be able to do something about that,” Dulia-Chai said as she set her teacup down. “A trip to the market district should be able to solve that. And you, young man,” she said to Alphinaud, who sat up a tad straighter, “will be needing more art supplies than that ratty old brush of yours, yes?”

“Yes, indeed I will,” Alphinaud said.

“Shall we, then?” Dulia-Chai said as she made for the door.

[siryouarebeingmocked]

Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse: I may have activated my own trap card

Spoilers for a movie that's two months old and also out on home release.

So, Miles, Gwen, Pavitr (Spider-India), and Hobie (Spider-Punk) all seem to have modern left-wing politics, though Gwen's got edited out. Hobie's introduction specifically says he hates "fascists", which carries over from the original comics.

By the time Hobie came around, I assumed he was just another poser, cooler than the hero rival character, expressing generic leftie politics, and his punk ethos wasn't sincere.

Which is exactly what the writers wanted me to think.

Not only is Hobie perfectly sincere about being anti-authoritarian, but he's been helping Miles since before they even met. He's been blatantly stealing junk from the Spider Society to build his own universe-jumping watch, and disguising it as petty vandalism.

He even tries to talk Miles out of trying to join the Spider-Society before the reveal that Miles himself is an anomaly, and the SS (geddit?) tries to detain Miles.

When Hobie says he's against authoritarianism, he really means it.

Speaking of the left-wing politics, Miles has a "#BLM" pin on his bag. It's very visible while he sits next to his dad.

Who's a cop.

(TANGENT: A few years ago, someone drew a stupid, very bad comic where Spider-Man (Peter Parker) was a) black, b) hated cops, and c) assaulted and subdued riot cops when they asked him for help.

That the comic didn't even show the riot cops were wrong. We were just supposed to assume they deserve to be left to the mercy of an angry mob.

Also, in this comic, Uncle Ben was killed by a cop, not a random thug who Spidey could've stopped but chose not to. Which makes me wonder how that would shake out.

It's kind of weird for someone to look at a character who's about personal responsibility to an unhealthy degree, and use him to express their collectivist anti-cop terrorism fantasies. That, or they didn't think through their fantasies.)

During Spider-India's opening, Miles says "I love Chai Tea!" And Pavitr goes on a rant about how "Chai" means "tea". Later on, The Spot says he's been on a "journey of self-discovery", and Pavitr basically says he's racist.

Which is a tad ironic, because Spot is literally white. And also because Pavitr is the one making the racist assumptions.

And I personally go to a church - in England - that has a lot of non-white non-British people. Mostly Africans. And me, of course. I wonder if any Asians ever went on a journey of self discovery to South London.

And I don't just mean as a cab driver.

"Wait, SYABM, didn't you move to the UK for self-discovery?"

W-well, yes, partially.

Aside: I made the mistake of watching a Youtube video with the Chai Tea joke, and then I looked at the comments.

One guy said "tfw when Twitter users write a movie". An idiot (with much more upvotes) said "bro out here wanting blatant racism in movies".

...When the whole point of the joke is that the racism is not blatant.

It's only "blatant" if you're insufferably Twitterized. There are loads of redundant phrasings in English, like "ATM machine", and words often shift when they're adopted from other languages.

Also, "I dislike this joke" is not the same as "I want racism in this movie", when the "racism" in the movie is only there so it could be mocked.

One of the issues with putting real world movements in worlds that are drastically different - it's one of the main selling points of the franchise - is that it may seem odd that those movements exist in very similar form to the IRL version.

For example, Miles supports BLM in both his video game, and this. Which makes me think "did Trayvon Martin get shot in Florida? How about Mike Brown? Wouldn't the existence of supervillains throw things into a new perspective?"

Did I mention the giant George Floyd-style "REST IN POWER" mural to Miles' dead uncle? I cringed at that in the Wakanda Forever trailer, and I rolled my eyes at it here.

Floyd wasn't a saintly martyr, he was an unlucky violent thug.

Also, Aaron was a supervillain killed by another bad guy who nearly destroyed the city, not a cop.

Also, this is at a party to celebrate how Miles' dad is about to be promoted. Assuming Floyd died and the 2020 protests/riots also happened in Miles' universe, then it seems a tad tasteless to have a mural inspired by an anti-cop movement overlooking it, even if the party is not full of cops.

Spider-India lives in "Mumbattan".

The people who settled the Manhattan area were originally Indian. But the other type of Indian. The Indians we're not supposed to call Indians anymore.

The name "Manhattan" is even Native American.

The first permanent settlement was Dutch. Then the English got it. I guess the English could've shipped Indians to the other side of the world and eventually ceded the area to them, or maybe in this world India was a world-conquering superpower and Mumbattan is the result of...importing Native Americans?

Which would make Pavitr's complaint that "the British stole all of our stuff and put it in their museums" seem a tad hypocritical.

Of course, since I wrote all that, someone reminded me that Pavitr explicitly says the joint is in India.

"SYABM," you say, "you're overthinking this."

Yes, I am. Because the filmmakers didn't think it through. If you want to use ha-ha-funny to make a serious point, you invite examination of that point.

Miles (as Spidey) now works with his dad, though he disguises his voice. At one point, Miles tells his father that men bottle up mental health issues.

This is true (and ironic, considering Miles is hiding who he is from Jeff), but it's not the first time I've seen some progressive work try to address men's issues in an very awkward way. At least here, it's played for comedy.

Also, seems a tad hypocritical coming from a guy who wears a "#BLM" pin in the presence of his cop father.

Also, if you work the timeline, that would mean Miles was about 7 or 6 when BLM started. Which means he's gone most of his life knowing nothing else.

There was a controversy over a "protect trans kids" trans flag in Gwen's room, which was apparently edited out.

IMO, it seems a tad strange for a girl who feels estranged from everyone in her world to join a social movement, but what do I know? Maybe it was there before then.

Some people came to the extremely logical conclusion that Gwen herself is trans. Even though she's distinctly physically feminine and possibly too young for puberty blockers depending on Earth 65′s laws.

Like the "oh great, it's Liv" shippers, people are reaching really hard to see what they want to see.

Some people have said that Gwen's issues with her dad and herself seem awfully similar to the issues LGBTQIA2S+ kids go through.

Gee, it's not like, y'know, feeling estranged from one's family is a common theme in fiction about teenagers and superhero, and the whole "superpowers = minority" thing has been done to death for most of the past century.

Perhaps most notably - and clumsily - in X-Men.

I'm not saying this wasn't the intended subtext. I'm saying if it was, it would just be really, really cliche.

There's this recurring theme of people telling miles "how [his] story is supposed to go".

When he's at a meeting with his parents and his guidance counselor, the lady says his story of being a black-Latino son of an immigrant would sound great in the college application letters. His mom is a tad miffed, given that they're a) solidly middle class, and b) as a Puerto Rican, she considers herself American.

Miguel (Spider-Man 2099) doesn't want Miles in the multiversal council of Spiders, because Miles was bitten by the radioactive spider from a different universe. Which is why his local Spider-Man died, and the spider's home dimension has no Spider-Man.

Also, Miguel is fixated on "canon events". The idea that there are certain things, especially tragedies, that have to happen to Spiders, or their entire universe falls apart.

And he knows this, because he tried to take over for a version of him that got shot dead by a thug. Tried to raise his daughter.

And he watched as the universe collapsed in front of him.

So he's projecting his own guilt onto Miles, a tad.

According to TVtropes and other sources, this was actually about the people who didn't accept Miles as a replacement Spidey, possibly out of racism.

Yeah, that's real hard-hitting topical meta-commentary about a character who debuted 12 years ago. 8 years when the first movie came out.

I'd also like to point out that despite stereotypes of comic book fans, certain minority successors to banner superheros have been fairly well-received. Like Jaime Reyes, or Cassandra Cain.

(Note: I wrote that before the Blue Beetle movie came out. And flopped.)

And, of course, loads of people like Miles specifically because he's a minority Spidey, which is also racist, just from the other direction. In fact, a lot of his fans seem to forget the "Latino" part of "Afro-Latino". From what little I've seen of Miles early comics, they did actually put strong emphasis on his race.

I also suspect the filmmakers may be misinterpreting the usual successor knee-jerk reactions

as racism. If you're using an established brand name for your new hero, you're creating some expectations.

Also, you know the most popular meme about regular Spidey that I see? That Marvel's writers just keep making him suffer and don't want him to actually develop. Which would kinda make Marvel closer to Team Miguel than Team Miles.

Miles also gripes that Miguel is letting "some algorithm" tell him what to do. While I agree with the sentiment, I'd like to point out that, again, Miles supports BLM.

A movement popularized by an algorithm.

A movement made up of narratives and assumptions.

A movement which has never proven a single incident was because of racism.

During the big chase scene, we see a Spider girl in a wheelchair, aka Sun-Spider. She's from the comics. Same initiative that gave us "Web-Weaver".

Who is, of course, an extremely effete gay fashion designer Spidey. I kinda like his outfit, though the Spider-eyes with eyelashes is a little too far.

And Sun-Spider seems exactly like a character a stereotypical 90s executive and focus group would come up with. Down to the backward baseball cap.

(Turns out she's Dayn Broder's actual Spider-Sona.)

Also, while I was looking up that one black and white Spider who said "nowhere to run" (Metro-Spider, played by record producer Metro Boomin [/sic]), I found out that Aunt May's full name is "Maybelle", not just "May". TIL.

There's a bit of a double standard with this version of Spider-Woman, who's black and pregnant. -People in the movie - including Peter B - regularly point out how Peter B endangering his infant daughter Mayday by taking her along with him. But for some reason, nobody says a word about Jessica, who's an active-duty stunt-biking superhero.

Even regular motorbiking can be dangerous for pregnant women.

In fact, the movie portrays this as heroic and impressive. When Gwen sees  Jess is preggos, she asks if Jess can adopt her.

Not to mention the whole "afro and hoop earrings" thing, which seem like a bad idea for a type of hero who often gets into melee combat, even with Spider-Sense.

Yes, I'm aware that female heroes, including the Spider-Ladies, often have exposed hair. It's a genre convention. Incidentally, it was nice to see Batwoman wore a detachable decoy wig in the comics. Some bad guy tries to grab it in a fight? It comes right off.

Also, Jess doesn't have much actual character.

Being pregnant is not a character trait. In fact, her only real traits are basically "cool but stern sassy mentor", to contrast with Peter B. -Incidentally, someone on TVtropes pointed out the double standard. And when I saw the page again, a page-camper had deleted it, with no explanation.

Guess they couldn't stand someone pointing out the flaws of their waifu.

(One) Spider-UK in this movie is Muslim. I know she's Muslim because she wears a Spider-themed headdress. Note that regular Marvel 616 has a muslim lady Spider-UK, but her name is Zarina Zahari and she doesn't wear a hijabi.

(Also, she could be mistaken for Ms. Marvel.)

ms marvel.jpg

You might be thinking "wait, isn't a headdress impractical in a melee fight? Doesn't it give your enemy something to grab?" Yes, it is.

But so are Jess's earrings, afro, and being pregnant, so clearly there's a lot of artistic license going on.

Maybe it's partially tearaway, like Batman's cape.

I gotta wonder about the religious rules of wearing a head covering over a mask that *already* covers your entire head. Did she go see her imam and go "Okay, I have a really weird question..."

Come to think, Spidey is usually slim, but a lot of lady Spideys in this movie seemed to have wide hips. Including muscular ladies. Kris Anka's concept art goes really hard on wide hips. I don't know why. Stronger, faster character reads during the big chase?

I guess Spiders could be expected to have strong legs.

BOTTOM LINE:

I liked the movie overall, though the progressive bits made me roll my eyes a little. I...want to see the third one, with reservations.

[ladytesla]

The Great Faerun Baking Show (Part one of possibly more)

Intelligence is knowing a tomato is a fruit.  Wisdom is knowing not to put ketchup in a profiterole.  Dexterity is crafting a croquembouche out of red craquelin-encrusted ketchup-filled profiteroles.  Strength is carrying that croquembouche from your bench to the judge’s table.  Constitution is being able to withstand the pressure of having your tomato croquembouche being judged by Prue Leith.  Charisma is trying to convince Paul Hollywood that your tomato croquembouche was a completely logical idea.

Twelve new bakers have been chosen to enter the tent.  Over the next ten weeks, they will face 30 brand new challenges.  Every aspect of their baking will be scrutinized and put up to the scrutiny of Prue and Paul.  Each week one will rise to become Star Baker, and whoever crumbles to the pressure will be sent home.  But who will go on to win the Great Faerun Baking Show?

I came up with this horrible idea so now I’m inflicting it on all of you.  May the gods have mercy on your souls.  So here’s how this odd little imagine is going to work.  I have no idea what’s going to happen.  I’m just going to roll a D20 ‘bake check’ for everyone, and write out the results, including what everyone rolled so y’all know I’m not cheating just so my druid boyfriend can win.  The person with the lowest total score (out of a possible score of 60) goes home. I’m going to write this in short form, but if this gets a lot of traction I might make this a full-scale fanfiction with shenanigans on like AO3 or something.

Our bakers are 6 men and 6 women.  I put all romanceable companions, Jaheira and Minsc, Dammon because he’s wonderful, and because I’m making the rules here, my tav Medora. If you’d rather not deal with someone else’s tav, just pretend it’s Alfira since they’re both female bards. If you're interested in seeing what my sleep-deprived mind came up with one night, read on!

Week One: Cake Week, or "why did you think putting literal blood in a cake was a good idea"

Signature Challenge: Swiss Roll Cake

Astarion: Dark chocolate and blood orange.  It cracked a little on the top, but it tasted quite nice.

Dammon: Apple pie.  Surprisingly for a blacksmith who works with heavy-duty equipment he’s really good at making small, delicate things.  It had a tiny lattice top in royal icing like a real apple pie would.  It tasted excellent. 

Gale: He wanted something unusual and colorful, so he went with ube.  He wanted to use magic to make it float or change color, but was told that was against the rules.  It’s okay though, It was still really nice, and beautifully presented.

Halsin: Wild blueberry and honey.  He harvested the honey himself, and was proud to say so.  Unfortunately he used sugar instead of salt because he got distracted by some ducks walking by outside the tent, and it tasted awful.

Jaheira: Chocolate and peanut butter.  It’s flavors her kids like.  Unfortunately Paul seems to always have issues with peanut butter and how it glues his mouth shut.  He wasn’t as big a fan of the cake as Prue was.

Karlach: S’mores swiss roll with toasted marshmallows on top.  She toasted the marshmallows a bit too much, but that’s part of the charm of s’mores.  She’s not sorry.

Lae’zel: Matcha and black sesame.  Interesting flavor choices, but not as well-executed as the judges would have liked.

Medora: Lemon meringue.  The meringue was very poorly executed, the lemon curd squished out of the sides of the cake, and the cake itself cracked horribly.

Minsc: Chai swiss roll.  The swiss roll wasn’t as tight as it should have been, but the flavors were lovely.

Minthara: Chocolate and whiskey swiss roll.  Accompanied by shots of whiskey, in an attempt to bribe the judges.

Shadowheart: Cookies and cream swiss roll, with a neat half and half black and white design.  It wasn’t perfect by a long shot, but she managed to cover up some of the worst sins with strategically-placed oreos.

Wyll: Red velvet. A classic flavor for a classic guy, and executed almost perfectly.

Technical Challenge: Cherry Cake

Bakers will be listed in descending order of success.

Karlach

Lae’zel

Minsc

Jaheira and Shadowheart tied, actually.  You decide who gets fourth.

Either Shadowheart or Jaheira, depending on who’s your least favorite lol

Medora

Halsin

Wyll and Gale also tied.  Pick your favorite.

Gale or Wyll

Astarion

Dammon

Minthara

Showstopper Challenge: Chocolate Celebration Cake

Astarion: Tiers are lopsided and the texture is claggy, but he did his best to charm the judges and distract them.

Dammon: Not as successful as his signature round, but his piping work was surprisingly delicate.

Gale: Attempted to make a chocolate tribute to Mystra.  The sculptural aspect was lacking, but he was one of the few contestants to use ruby chocolate, which was unique.

Halsin: Used even more foraged berries on a white chocolate cake.  Very successful.

Jaheira: Dropped her cake before she could finish decorating it.  Could not be judged.

Karlach: Put in some cinnamon and chili to make a Mexican hot chocolate cake.  Very nice.

Lae’zel: No one knows what dimension that chocolate came from, only that it was amazing.  She got a Hollywood Handshake.

Medora: Finally seemed to get with the program and baked a lovely triple-chocolate cake.

Minsc: Despite him not having hair, Boo drove him like it was a scene from Ratatouille and created chocolate perfection.  Hollywood Handshakes for both of them.

Minthara: Her cake was very dry and didn’t have enough frosting.

Shadowheart: Insisted her cake be colored black with activated charcoal and got it everywhere.

Wyll: Tried to go for a classic again, and did well, but the judges wondered if he played it too safe.

The Results

Our star baker this week with a total score of 49/60 is: Karlach!

And unfortunately due to her total score of 18/60, Minthara is the first to leave the tent.

And that concludes Cake Week!

Biscuit Week

Bread Week

Pies and Tarts Week

Underdark Week

[jesterthestar]

♱ | author's note : I've been having a  chai brainrot recently and i've been texting the Kokushibo bot alot ... but the scenario i made always went the wrong way  , into fighting ... but i'd want to see them as romantic partners. ><

☆ | summary : Kokushibo was hunting in the forest when he met a really interesting human that he decided to have mercy on.

triggers: kind off disturbing .

                                                      ☆☆☆

• The moonlight was shining so brightly that the whole forest that almost glimmering , it wasn't a rare sight to behold. Kokushibo was walking around said forest, hunting ... though he was deep in thought about it. He was quite the lonely fellow due to his ranks , he always thought of getting a human friend , though he never had a encounter with a human when they actually .. talked , let alone get along.Suddenly he felt a scent of human flesh ... no ,not flesh . It was a human organ .Kokushibo slowly approached the said scent only to find woman with a jar in one of her hands and a human heart in another.. and it wasn't a demon. It was a rather strange display , Kokushibo was aware of human killers but this was something on a different level. Kokushibo wasn't fully visible in the shadows , only his eyes were glowing.After a great minute Kokushibo started talking.

• Kokushibo didn't hesitate talking with you , he asked everything he wanted to and he was interested in and you didn't hesitate answering.

• Y/n was a killer that tried to make life out of their victims, but was failing miserably.The heart that you were throwing had a disease so it wasn't useful for your reasearch.

• Kokushibo was interested in what made you do such a thing .. it was so unqiue to him . Kill humans , to make another human.

• You guys ended up talking until around 4 in the morning before you gave Kokushiho your adress and walked off.

• You guys almost immediatly became friends and then romantic partners, you were pretty compatable.

• Kokushibo sometimes helped you when he had free time !

• He was also really worried about you , since he thought that your job was pretty dangerous , you could get hurt by demons that sensed blood. And he didn't want that to happen , he cherished you were  the closest person he had in a long time.

• Tried to convince you to become a demon so you woukd live forever with him, but didn't force you if you declined.

• Would be happy if you did though.

• This man listens to you mumble about your reasearch for hours if he can and hates interrupting you.

• Loves you alot in general despite your weird little hobby ! ^^

[david-powers-simp]

What I think the lost boys smell like.

Hi peeps, Im just getting more and more chaotic with the headcancons I write but oh well. I hope you guys like this dumpster fire.

So to start off i do not think the boys smell as bad as the frog bothers made it seem, the frog bros are just a tad dramatic. Of course the boys are technically the "undead" but I don't think they smell like a sack of rotting flesh, how on earth would they ever manage to go out to the boardwalk if they smelt that bad? They wouldn't be able to, that being said they definitely don't smell like a rose bush, but they don't smell dead either so let's get into what they do actually smell like.

Paul

This man has a lot of different scents going on here. First and foremost its important to know paul almost always has snacks in his pockets, like he has oreos, chips, honeybuns, fortune cookies. The whole 9 yards, Paul keeps a good stash of snacks on him at all times. That being said he probably has a bit of a sweet undertone smell, not over powering or strong but very subtle. I think he smells like hair spray as well, like getting his hair that fluffy he 100% uses hair spray. There also was the one scene in tlb that paul was smoking, what im assuming is just a regular cigarette but it could might be w33d so there is that smell also, because you just never know with paul. I do think he would smell of cologne too. Maybe a little motorcycle feums as well.

Marko

Marko my sweet lil gremlin, he has this pine, woodsy smell to him. I don't make the rules I just inforce them and this man smells like a pine forest. But here me out marko has a slight smell of pennies to him too, he smells like this mainly because he has like a ton of change on him at all times honestly. Like my mans has his pockets full of change because you never know when you might need it. Oh but hold your horses there's more. Marko has a guilty pleasure of drinking energy drinks every though he may be a vampire and the energy drink does absolutely nothing he just likes the taste of it. His favorite is jolt cola, which is essentially a Coca-Cola energy drink. We also all know marko is a lil clumsy boi because he's energetic ( which i am too so no judging from me) so in turn he spills his drink a lot, getting it on him. That means he acquires the smell of carmel, and a hint of vanilla. Now this is very specific but it just sits right with me, Marko wears the cologne cool water by davidoff,the top notes are mint, sea water and rosemary. To me that just screams marko.

Dwayne

This man lord have mercy ok, dwayne predominantly smells like lavender and here is why. Dwayne likes to pick the lavender thats right outside the cave, i like to think he'd have this natural good earthy smell to him and he seems like he'd smell so calming.  dwyane also likes to put the lavender in a little vase since he finds them pretty and they smell really good too. He sometimes carrys some lavender in his pockets. Dwayne just loves plants and flowers because he like the idea of life and living things, so naturally he likes to carry them with him. ~ and sometimes he gives the lavender flowers out to girls he finds pretty~ . He also very much enjoys himself a cup of tea, he has a tea stash he keeps in an old cigar box tucked away in his room. his favorites are earl grey, gunpowder and chai he can appreciate the different flavors of each tea. Dwayne really likes to add cinnamon to his tea to add a little flavor and spice. I truly feel in my bones he would smell like cedar too like just a nice comforting and calming scent would engulf you when ever you were near him.

David

Oh the loml, there is a lot too unpack here. Ofc davie boy smokes so your gonna smell that on him, im thinking specifically marlboro reds just because that was a very popular cigarette back in the 80s and I 100% believe david would steal cigarettes off surf nazis. Just the facts, david would also smell like mint. This maybe because whenever david isn't smoking he is chewing gum or maybe its because david has a cologne that has a mint undertone. Hes never gonna let you know which is the reason. Another scent you'll smell on him is leather this man wears at least one piece of leather at all times. Whether its his leather pants or his jacket, he has something leather on.naturally that scent rubs off on him. Oh and whiskey or bourbon david smells like whiskey or bourbon.I think the best way to describe the way david smells is at first he has a bold almost chilling smell but then there's a slightly warmer dare I say comforting scent. With oaky, smoky notes. Oh and he'd smell like hair gel we all know a fine mullet like David's doesn't look that good on its own oh no a good amount of hair gel goes into that bad boy.

Well I hope you enjoyed that peeps i will be back soon to whip out another lil fic for you guys so stay tooned

[handgiven]

@heavenfelled asked:

it  was  the  dead  of  night  when  he  awoke  from  the  sofa  with  a  gasp.   nightmares   ...   always  such  dreadful  nightmares  that  dug  deep  into  the  recesses  of  their  mind  and  unearthed  horrors  they'd  long  since  buried.   the  fall,  the  bowels  of  hell  when  he'd  committed  one  too  many  human acts  of  kindness  and  drawn  the  ire  of  the  less  forgiving. crowley  rose  with  long,  creaking  limbs,  all slender  and  sinew  in  little  but  underwear  and  a  baggy  tshirt.   crimson  strands  mussed  and  ruffled  from  their  restless  tossing,  but  they  made  no  move  to  smooth  them  down   -   such  a stark  difference  to  the  strutting,  preening,  designer  clad  demon  of  the  day.  bare  feet  padded  silent  down  the  hallway.   another  night  he'd  have  thought  better  of  it.   another  night  they'd  have  gone  back  to  sleep  and  shoved  the  thoughts  down.   but  tonight   ... heart  stuttered  its  rhythm  against  his  ribs  as  he  knocked,  ever  so  softly.   a  turn  of  the  handle  and  he  stood  framed  by  the  doorway,  illuminated  now  by  the  dim,  warm  lamplight  within.    '  hey   -  '    god,  their  throat  was  hoarse,  breathless  and  wracked  with  sleep.    '  this is   ...   er,  this  is  so  stupid.   i-i  can't  sleep,  um,  '    words  broke  off  and  bleary  amber  eyes  flicked  to  the  ceiling,  frustrated  in  nothing  but  himself. long, pale fingers began to fidget at their sides before curling around a forearm.    '  can  i   ...   stay   -  in  here?   just  for  a  bit.  ' he pulled a face. ' you can just tell me to piss off. '

/  i  heard  em  wanted  cuddles   ...

emmanuel was in the middle of composing a letter to antoine, mostly just writing about the weather in a way only angels knew how, without sounding boring, but he did feel fatigue settle upon his eyes as he struggled more and more with each new word. letters had a tendency to move around on him, and they were no more merciful when he was the one putting them on paper. he was becoming frustrated with himself and tired, both the emotions strenghtening one another. -- it was a relief to hear a knock at the door, really. tentative, unsure almost, but the angel was all so waiting for an excuse to get up from the desk he could swear he almost heard it before the other's knuckles even touched the wood. rubbing at his eyes, he closed up his unfinished letter in a book on the desk, his pen included, and made the few steps separating him from the door.

to see crowley of all people beyond his door like this was -- unexpected. though just the very sight of such vulnerability made the angel tender. his hand still latched upon the door handle just because he knew they would reach for the other's all too fast otherwise. he learnt to take things slow, not make fast movements and hope that perhaps the other would feel safe enough to allow him a display of kindness here and there. "crowley, are you okay?" was his first concern, though it was replaced by something like amusement underneath it all. it was endearing, as it was once again perfectly ordinary. he smiled, extending a hand this time, to give the other the choice to take it, or simply accept it as a gesture of welcome.

"come in... i have chai, if you'd like." he almost rushed to speak it, to not let the other even finish the suggestion to send them away. he had chai, yes, and he also had a comfortable couch with a handful of pillows, mixed with his very own aura of comfort. if the other were to sleep well anywhere, it would be here.

[l-lend]

Warning(s): swearing

Pairing: Wrecker x OC

Tagging: @kelpiesummer @ghostlythunderbird

Monday mornings are typically slow in the Mythic Beauties garage. Nessie was tucked away in the back unboxing a new shipment of parts. T-Bird and Pegasus were looking over footage from the last show. Lastly with Siren in her office negotiating the next show, this left Kelpie manning the phones and the front desk. Kelpie was never put out with this task since she could always bring her tablet and sketch pad up front with her, so she could continue working on her designs.

The phone rang as Kelpie was adjusting a pin stripe on a wrap design. Still focused on the tablet, she answered.

“Mythic Beauties Garage, where your hunt is over. This is Kelpie.” She greeted in her customer service voice.

“Hi, uh...I was wondering if Nessie was working today?”

Kelpie's eyebrows almost escaped into her hairline. The person on the phone was unmistakably a guy with his low tone of voice. But asking for Nessie? The mechanic who shies away from food delivery so she does not have to speak to anyone?

“Nessie is busy at the moment,”

It was not an outright lie. Nessie had been jonesing for those new mufflers that just came in.

“Can I take a message?”

“Yeah, can you let her know that Wrecker called? I thought about her offer about taking a look at my Tahoe.”

“I'll be sure to let her know.”

After hanging up, Kelpie leaped up from her chair making a b-line for the break room. Her squealing sneakers on the tile jerking T-Bird and Pegasus from their video playback.

“Easy Kel, where's the fire?”

“Bird, we got tea.”

T-Bird quirked a dark brow, “Earl Grey, chai, what?”

“Oh, it's spicy!”

Pegasus sighed wrapping her headphones around her neck before disappearing with her laptop.

T-Bird gestured to an open seat, “Spill.”

“So this guy called,”

“and you told him we weren't hiring.”

“No, I mean he wasn't asking about a job. He was asking is Nessie..was here.”

“Get the fuck out, no one asks for Nessie.”

“Yeah, mentioned she offered to look at his Tahoe.”

“Oh,” T-Bird chuffed a laugh, “Oh, Nessie's got explaining to do.”

T-Bird got up from her stool leaning halfway out of the break room.

“Nessie!” The stunt driver hollered towards the break room.

“Yeah?”

“M'ere.”

“I'm a bit busy. Can it wait?”

“Nope.” T-Bird locked eyes with Kelpie and jerked her head towards the back room for the ambush.

The stunt driver and bike designer cornered the mechanic as she was double checking a serial number. Nessie eventually looking up from her clipboard.

“What's up? The next show have a CC restriction or something?”

“Nah, a guy called asking about getting his Tahoe looked at.”

Nessie's fingers began playing with a corner of paper on her clipboard.

“Might have us confused. The shop down the street does cars.”

“He was asking for you.”

The clipboard clattered to the floor.

T-Bird smirked, “So how'd you meet him?”

The mechanic sighed, “Well, I got pulled over the other ni-”

“Hold up,” Kelpie cut in, “You got pulled over?” Her gaze shifted to T-Bird, “isn't that your job?”

“So if you got pulled over...”

Kelpie's eyes grew to the size of dinner plates. A gasp leaving her.

“Oh my god, he's a cop!”

The blood rushing to Nessie's cheeks was all the answer they needed.

“Never knew you to have a thing for uniforms.” T-Bird teased.

“I-I don't. He was just nice, okay? I blew through a stop sign and he let me off with a warning since it was late.”

“Mhmm, and you offered to look at his car?”

“I was just being nice. Besides the engine didn't sound so good, so I mentioned what might be wrong and offered to look at it.”

“When do we meet him?” Kelpie pressed.

“You don't.”

“Is he cute?”

Somehow Nessie's cheeks gained more color.

“Kelpie, that has no bearing. I'm just looking at his car, that's it.”

Whatever higher power was out there, it took mercy on Nessie. T-Bird and Siren had stepped out for a meeting while Kelpie was in her creative zen in her space. Nessie quickly grabbed the number from the caller ID, and locked herself in her office with the number dialed into her cell.

Her nerves balling up in her chest as it rang. The line connected on the second ring.

“Wrecker.” He answered.

Nessie gulped before attempting to speak.

“H-Hi, it's Nessie, um...the mechanic?”

“Hey Nessie,” His tone gained more warmth now he had the name of the caller, “tried calling earlier, but they said you were busy.”

“Uh, yeah...that was probably Kelpie. She knows how I get when a new shipment comes in.”

His chuckle worked magic easing the tangled mass of nerves in her.

“I can understand that. I wanted to take you up on your offer. How much would a service check run me?”

“Oh no, no. I offered so it's on me.”

She could hear the smile in his voice.

“Well, when would you like to look at it? I have the next couple of days off. I could cover food for your time.”

“Y...you don't have to.”

“I want to. You have any places you like and I'll bring it over?”

“I'm not picky.”

“Alright, so when is best for you?”

“Tomorrow night?”

“Sounds great, I'm looking forward to it.”

“Oh, um, this number is my cell...you know um, in case anything changes with schedules.”

“Great, so I can call you after hours..you know..about the car.”

Nessie caught the slight trip of his words, but filed that away for later.

“Of course.”

She hung up after plans were set and after checking to make sure her office door was locked, Nessie saved the officer's number in her contacts.

[lambs-rest]

The Converging Light

Track: Mary On A Cross (official slowed + reverb) - Ghost (YT)

——————–

Y’shtola did not let her sight drift from Granye for more than a moment as they emerged from the aether current, arriving at the aetheryte situated in the sleepy village of Wright. The roegadyn had seemed out of sorts since they reunited. Y’shtola had quickly strong-armed Granye into sitting down on the paved stone floor and allowing her to tend to the garish wound that graced her shoulder before they left the seclusion of Amaurot. Granye had complied without any sort of protest or hand-waving. It was highly unusual behaviour for her. Considering everything that had just transpired with the Emissary, Y’shtola felt it only right to be worried.

Indeed, all along the walk to Eulmore she was quiet and distant, save for the sudden remembrance and gifting of a slice of Archon loaf from Tataru. But Y’shtola did not see the concerning pattern of her aether fighting itself again, which was a small comfort to her, so she did not press the matter. There was no question that Granye was sullen about the revealed truth of Elidibus’ being, and the sorceress was not eager to press her about the matter, nor the related ensuing inexplicable fit she had experienced. Granye’s mood only seemed to lift when they reached the Canopy of Eulmore and they spied their friends gathered around the Chais. Perhaps, Y’shtola thought as she watched Granye stride in first, she would have to appease herself with that smallest mercy for the time being.

“Forgive us our lateness.” Y’shtola said smoothly. “Master Chai, my congratulations on your appointment. By all accounts, you are a capable mayor.”

He smiled bashfully, almost waving a hand. “Oh, I have capable friends, my lady. I must say it’s good to see you looking hale and whole again.”

“The credit for that lies with my own capable friend, without whom I might never have escaped my abductor.”

Granye’s smile faded into a frown as the rest of those gathered reeled back at the word.

“Your what!?” Thancred blurted.

“’lidibus. He took advantage of Y’shtola bein’ weakened. Snatched her up before I could stop ‘im.”

“And Granye fought valiantly to rescue me.” she added with a smile, though it disappeared quickly. “But that is the least of our story. I have uncovered the truth of his being, and even managed to verify with the Emissary before he…parted ways with us.” she finished delicately. “It is just as we feared. The Elidibus we know is indeed a primal, fuelled by hope. It is this very fact that drives him to inspire hope among the people of Norvrandt even now – that he may continue to carry out his sole reason for existing: his duty.”

“A primal�� That would explain why Elidibus has been fostering faith in the Warrior of Light. While you were enjoying your audience with the wandering heart of Zodiark, we were busy dispatching the last of the black-masked Ascians. A task which proved almost insultingly easy.” Thancred said wryly. “Formidable though we undoubtedly are, they were obviously sent to provide encouragement for budding heroes. Once cannot help but wonder how many times the ploy has been used before…”

Granye turned away, her stomach churning. Neither Papalymo nor Lyse were here to reminisce with her about the battle under Gridania’s Guardian Tree – the black-masked Ascian, the first encounter she ever had with a person wearing their robes. Had it all been a ploy? She wanted to tell herself that it couldn’t have been – to what end?

The balance. It’s always about the balance with them, isn’t it?

The Seventh Umbral Calamity had been one of darkness – Astral, chaos – if Granye’s struggling memory recalled from Urianger’s lesson in his cottage in Il Mheg. And what had she become? The Warrior of Light. The only problem was that she had become too strong to bend to their plans.

A light weight on her arm brought her attention, and she looked down into Ryne’s concerned pale blue eyes. The others were still talking, but their words sounded faint to her.

“Are you all right?” she asked quietly. “I understand that this isn’t the news you wanted to hear…”

Granye forced a smile and patted her hand. “Aye. I’m nae exactly jumpin’ fer joy…but I’ll be fine. Thanks fer askin’, dove.”

Ryne opened her mouth, about to speak, when Dulia-Chai’s delighted voice cut across everything.

“Oh my, what a spectacular sky!”

They all turned toward The Grand Dame’s Parlour’s opulent panoramic window view, only to see dark – almost abyssal – sky. She blinked when she thought she saw a faint streak of orange sputter and die on the horizon. Until she saw it again.

Her feet carried her through the parlour at a run, urging her to push past the other Scions who also rushed to see. Granye almost flew off the boardwalk when the sky opened up over her head, aglow with dark orange storm clouds, and streaks of fire tearing across them. Her gaze continued to lift up, following the flashes of lightning until she craned her neck to see the swirling vortex of orange looming directly above, snapping with bolts of electricity and bellowing distant, thunderous booms.

“Is that… Amaurot!?” Ryne’s baffled gasp beside her wrenched Granye’s gaze from the seemingly falling heavens, and to the horizon.

Her gut churned and a cold sweat broke over her back. The once sunken city stood upon the waves, wobbling in place like a mirage, a ghost determined to haunt her just as much as its re-creator did.

Scenes came unbidden to her mind replacing the already fading view of Amaurot’s twisting spires – gentle faceless robed figures, falling to their knees under ash and fire, disappearing into a smouldering hell. The world from above, a marble pock-marked with flames and death, the end of everything they held dear. The hollow roar of Therion’s many faces, eyes and mouth blooming with harsh white light as it howled a destructive spell into being.

And then suddenly the deafening boom of an explosion rocked above her very head. She flinched violently, hunching over and slapping her hand over her ears, gritting her teeth as heat licked at her back. All she could think of were the meteors, crushing those helpless Ancients beneath their cosmic weight.

She didn’t realise she was shaking until she opened her eyes to see Alphinaud standing under her, reaching up with his hands to hold her wrists. She could feel her arms practically rattling in his gentle, loose grasp. His lips moved, but she couldn’t hear what he was saying, her ears still ringing with Therion’s bellow.

“Should we make a stand here? Or retreat to the Crystarium?”

Ryne’s questions cleaved through her fog like a hot knife, a bell ringing clearly through the din. The Crystarium.

“Granye, can you hear me?” Alphinaud’s voice reached her next, and then slowly the rest all filtered in.

“I…I have to go.”

“We have to go.” he corrected, not letting go of her wrists even as she lowered her hands. “We’re under attack, Granye. We have to lead our foe away from these people. Do you understand?”

The way she blinked several times more, staring out to the horizon before she nodded shakily, gave Alphinaud little comfort.

“You are to stay in the rear beside me, Granye. Understood?”

He expected – hoped – for some kind of joke or sass at him being the one to order her, but she only nodded again.

-~-~-~-~-~-

Thancred was forced to crash-land their borrowed airship in the rocky canyons of Ahm Araeng. The fact that the starshower continued even as they crossed from Kholusia and entered the hot landscape was not lost on Granye. She could only assume that the falling sky was visible all over Norvrandt, and that meant Elidibus was only ramping up his efforts. Despite the battle they had already waged, and the fresh wound in her shoulder, she knew she would have to be braced to face him again, and soon.

Alphinaud was keeping true to his word, flanking her as they stayed farther towards the back of their group, Thancred and Ryne leading the charge with Urianger and Alisaie close behind. Y’shtola, she noticed, was also lingering closer to her than the others. It wasn’t wholly a surprise after what had happened in Amaurot. They put down the first batch of glittering gold spectral warriors quickly, but before they could bemoan the gaping hole in the trolley tracks that yawned before them, shouts from above caught their attention.

“Hah! When I saw that airship come down, I had my suspicions, but it is you!”

People from Mord Souq were lined up along the ledge, waving and jumping, and she recognised Cassard waving down at them. The Mords at his side chattered to each other before man and beast alike all began to push a great big red boulder that was situated next to them. Thancred and Ryne both bolted from the vanguard as it began to fall, the collision of stone-on-stone cracking mightily through the canyon, ringing their ears and making them all cringe as the enormous boulder fell into the hole.

“I haven’t the faintest what’s going on, but you’d best keep moving!” Cassard hollered down at them, waving exaggeratedly, even as he beamed.

They waved their thanks and picked their way over the uneven boulder’s surface, Thancred crossing first and waiting on solid ground. He leaned over, taking Ryne’s hand and guiding her over the gap. “A little warning wouldn’t have gone amiss.” he muttered, the sight of the giant rock tilting toward him still seared into his mind.

Alisaie jumped clear over the gap on her own after Ryne was clear. “I can’t fault their haste when we are somewhat pressed for time.” she said quietly, taking the moment to wave at the people remaining on the ledge.

Not even a minute later down the path and more glowing white sigils blossomed over the red earth, golden warriors emerging from the pillars of light left in their wake. “This is rather getting on my nerves!” Thancred declared, settling into a fighting stance once again.

The ground rumbled yet again, and they froze, staring as instead of another rock, two Talos dropped down behind the spectral warriors. A smile crossed Thancred’s face as the warriors glanced back, their focus suddenly divided as they were boxed in. “Well, perhaps it’s not all bad.”

-~-~-~-~-~-

It wasn’t until they entered Lakeland and were joined suddenly by Giott, Cerigg, Granson and Lue-Reeq that Granye’s mind began to churn instead of idle numbly. Their presence and banter as they seamlessly folded into fighting alongside the Scions made her think of the evenings when they would meet, drink and dine at the Wandering Stairs. The place where she had made so many new and delightful memories, not just with them, but with the folks who worked there, and with…

The multicoloured crystals weighed heavily in her satchel.

She couldn’t let Elidibus get away with this. She couldn’t allow him to take this world – a world that had barely clawed its way back from oblivion – and condemn it, and the people who filled it, again.

She would try. She had to try. If not for her sake, then for the Ascian she had left behind.

Of course she was still upset at him. Of course she was frustrated. But as light gathered around Giott’s tiny fist, building to an audible hum, Granye remembered that day at the Aetherochemical Research Facility. She remembered the fire that consumed her – the determination to do what she wanted, not to bow to the pressure of others. She remembered how Igeyohrm’s death had crushed to dust what little restraint she had left after losing both Haurchefant and Ysayle to dreaded duty.For too long she had been scared of Elidibus – how to handle him, how to approach him, how she would endure their inevitable clash. Ever since she saw the mirror in Yotsuyu’s hands in Castrum Fluminis, she had been afraid of him.

Granye had tried to mend the seemingly enormous divide between their kind with Emet, and he had rebuked her with betrayal and turmoil. He had pushed her to the very edge of her wits, and his death had only caused her more grief.

This time she had to do better. She had to fight harder – for her beliefs, for her goals. And for the soul she had shackled to flesh.

She would never forgive herself if she was the reason Lahabrea was the sole survivor of his kind.

So, she would find Elidibus and she would make him back down. She would tamp down his primal instincts if she had to. She would rise up as many times as he knocked her down and force him to see sense. If he had forgotten…then she would make him remember. Even if it cost her everything.

“Granye. Are you all right?” Alphinaud asked, looking up at her. She wore a terribly pensive frown, and hadn’t even waved goodbye to the four adventurers who had joined them when they parted ways at the huge stone gate.

With a blink Granye looked down at him, a slow smile spreading over her lips and easing the crinkle in her brow. “Aye. Sorry to have worried ye, Alphie.”

“Seriously? This is a real person somewhere?” Thancred’s disbelief made them both look toward him. He was staring at a giant hulking muscle-bound man clad in pelts and with a beast’s head around his own, hefting an enormous cudgel of a blade.

Alphinaud watched their champion ready her bow and follow Thancred and the others into the area that would evidently be their arena of battle. From the moment the skies had filled with dark clouds and the mirage of falling stars, she’d had the same distant, haunted stare in her eyes. He’d seen it before, and both times it had been the wake of devastating loss. Her reassurance had done little to truly soothe him. Alphinaud had a sinking feeling that Granye would be struggling with her emotions again, and soon.

-~-~-~-~-~-

She hated leaving the Scions behind. Sure, it had been the most sensible decision, and it wasn’t like the last time they had pushed her forward, staying behind one-by-one until…

They had all come an incredibly long way since the Bloody Banquet. She had to stop fretting.

Granye fixed her gaze upon the Crystal Tower’s blue spire, glittering a sickly dull hue against the murky burnt sky. There was no doubt in her mind that Elidibus had seized the Tower and was now using it – and G’raha Tia – to summon the endless waves of shades. Which meant she’d be in for one hell of a fight. And if Lahabrea had decided to throw his lot in with the Emissary… She didn’t want to consider that. He wouldn’t be an obstacle on her path like he had in the past, but he would certainly present his own challenges.

The sound of faint moaning brought her to a screeching halt, boots sliding over the dirt path. Moaning, out here, in this situation? Granye scanned the lilac forest to her right, then her left, eyes carefully raking the ground beneath the trees.

There was no chance she could miss the bright, unnaturally blue glow slumped to the forest floor beneath the shadow of some particularly large trees. The blue glow, and the red robe.

“G’raha!?”

She was sprinting up the incline towards him before he even managed to lift his head. Only when she was closer did she realise that the unidentifiable mass beside him was Beq Lugg, the poor Nu Mou keeled over on their side.

“What in the seven hells happened!?”

The air felt sucked from her lungs when G’raha’s lifted head revealed that the blue crystal that had so recently extended across to his other arm was now blooming up through his very clothes, circling tighter around his throat like a noose.

“My friend… How did you…?”

“Never mind tha’, robin! What happened?”

“Elidibus… He took us unawares.” G’raha grimaced, before staggering, slumping ever further as his body began to violently shake. The glowing blue parts of his arms shone brighter, and flakes of crystalline shards began to peel off him. Granye dropped to her kneels, hands ready to render aid. But what aid could she possibly give him for this?

“It was all we could do…to raise a ward to hinder his steps… And so we fled…” Beq Lugg whimpered, barely able to move. “But he took it… The vessel with the Exarch’s memories… Forgive me… Forgive me…”

Granye reached out and gently put her hand on their head, trying to soothe them. “’s all right, love. He’s not an easy bugger to come up against. I‘s all right.”

G’raha Tia hissed against the ebbing pain in his limbs, inhaling sharply. This feeling, he knew, was the side effect of Elidibus’ abuse of the Tower. “The vessel bears not only my memories, but my blood – the blood of Allagan royalty…granting him the means to control the tower. And with it, he as performed I know not how many summonings, calling forth heroes from across the rift. And as you can see,” he held out his arms, riddled with dull and glowing blue crystal alike, “the burden upon the tower is beginning to tell.”

“Upon the tower? Upon yerself more like!” Her face scrunched up into a tight frown. “…If I didnae have to save me strength fer the bloody Emissary, I’d cuff ye one right now, robin!” G’raha looked at her, surprised, and Granye met his gaze. “…This is how ye got to be part crystal in the first place, isnae it? Because ye were tryin’ to summon me.”

He sheepishly forced a smile. “Not entirely, I assure you.”

The way her scowl deepened in her brow told him she wasn’t convinced. She got to her feet. “You leave ‘lidibus to me. I’ll cut off his use o’ the tower right quick.”

“No! I won’t let you go alone. Not this time.” He struggled to his feet before she could protest. “The Crystal Tower is my responsibility. The Crystarium… I cannot allow his exploitation of the people’s hopes and dreams to go unpunished.” He held her gaze firmly – a look that reminded her of the day the doors of the Crystal Tower closed behind him. “I am going to the Crystal Tower, with or without your blessing – though I would rather it were with.”

She pursed her lips and crossed her arms. “…I cannae persuade ye to sit still?”

“You cannot.”

His condition deeply concerned her. His clothes were turning to crystal for goodness’ sake! But he would not back down. She deflated with a sigh and looked away. “Fine. But the moment you have any issues, we’re stoppin’!”

G’raha’s ears bounced up and his face lit up with a smile. “Thank you, my friend!” He looked back at Beq Lugg. “I will send for help. Stay strong, my friend, and take heart. Though mine own unfortunately slipped our grasp, it is due to your bravery that we rescued the other spirit vessels from Elidibus’ clutches.”

Granye knelt down and patted Beq Lugg comfortingly one more time before the two of them set off. At first she was worried that G’raha would keel over, but it seemed like his stride was unaffected.

“First I would make haste to Accensor Gate – only briefly.”

“Aye! Can ye manage a run?”

“My arms are stiff, not my legs.” he teased. Granye pulled her bone flute from the aether and blew the melody of a Peloton, invigorating winds gently brushing around them for a moment. “Start runnin’!”

Only once the Accensor Gate was on the horizon, its wooden posts and beams poking over the brown rock mountains, did Granye cease the casting of Peloton to hasten their steps.

“G’raha, I have to make a detour ‘fore we climb the tower.” she admitted, needing to warn him before it was too late.

He glanced at her and nodded. “You wish to speak with Lahabrea.”

Granye’s shoulders slumped as they walked. “Is it really that obvious?” He only smiled and shrugged gingerly. “I’m sorry, robin. With the state yer in-”

“Please, there is no need to apologise. I completely understand your fears. I can say that Elidibus seemed to be none the wiser to his presence in the Crystarium. His focus was wholly fixed upon using the tower to his advantage.”

His observation brought her more relief than she would have liked. But G’raha’s gaze lingered on her.

“Not to put too great a pressure upon you, but do you have a plan?”

Her face seemed incapable of making any expression other than frowning today. “I might. But I need to see ‘brea first. An’ even then…it’s a bloody long shot at best.”

“Do what you must. I shall lift the ward only when you are ready. …I have faith you will succeed, Granye. There’s an indefatigable air of determination about you.” he added after a moment.

Granye flashed him a smile. Whatever that meant.

They came upon the outpost and two Crystarium guards met the at the gate, both of them having to look twice to realise who had arrived at their post.

“W-Warrior of Darkness! Exarch! We were not notified of your coming!” stammered the elf.

G’raha shook his head. “It wasn’t planned. I need you to assemble a rescue party. Our friend Beq Lugg lies wounded in a clearing to the west. Pray go to their aid with all haste.”

“At once, my lord! M-May I ask how they came to harm? There’ve been reports of enemies in our midst – spectres who appeared after the starshower. Do they have something to do with it?”

He seemed reluctant to answer, and Granye thought perhaps she could come up with some sort of excuse-

“Yes. The man who attacked Beq Lugg is also responsible for the starshower and the appearance of the spectres.”

She blinked rapidly, surprised that he just came right out and said it. She had gotten so used to him hiding secrets as the ‘Crystal Exarch’ that it felt novel to hear it come right out and tell them the truth.

“I have no time to explain, but know that the individual in question does not seek to do indiscriminate harm. If you do not bar his servants’ path, they will not turn on you. You are to leave this foe to us, understood? Meanwhile, I ask that you alert the rest of the guard, and focus on maintaining calm in the city.”

“Understood.” Another familiar voice answered, prompting them all to look back behind the guards.

“Lyna!” The authority with which G’raha had just addressed the two guards evaporated at the sight of her, clad in her outstanding red-caped uniform.

“I shall take charge of matters in the city. Find Beq Lugg – now!” she ordered the elf and galdjent guards, sending them off at as great a sprint as their armour would allow.

“‘No time to explain’… Hmph.” G’raha’s ears drooped when Lyna crossed her arms, repeating his words back at him. “The graver the matter, the less inclined you are to speak of it. Even when it is plain for all to see – like what is happening to you.” When her eyes pointedly stared at his now crystalline left hand he almost tried to hide it behind his robes.

“Lyna… This time there truly is no time.”

The captain seemed resigned to such words, but she wore a smile. “I know, my lord. Were matters otherwise, I believe you would even be willing to speak of your past if pressed.” She lowered her head. “Yet I remain afraid to do so. Afraid that what I might learn would make a stranger of you.” She shook her head, chastising herself. “…Forgive me. There is no time.”

Granye glanced down at the miqo’te and widened her eyes, lifting her brows and glancing back at Lyna once she had his attention. She tilted her head toward Lyna before more aggressively nodding in her direction.

Crude a pantomime as it was, G’raha understood what she was indicating full well. He nodded and walked toward her, stopping a few steps away.

“…Lyna. Do you remember the time you got lost in the tower when you were little, and I searched for you for hours on end? And the cake I baked for your tenth nameday. That hideous lump the good people of the Mean covered up with beautiful candles…” His hands began to rub one another, making a muted crystal clinking sound as he couldn’t help but soothe himself. “And your hapless first encounter with the sin eaters as a guard. Afterwards, you threw yourself into your training, pretending nothing was wrong, though I could see the tears in your eyes…”

Lyna lifted her head, staring at him with her mouth slightly ajar, eyes swimming with emotion as he fondly recounted events – events which she was sure he had forgotten. And when he met her gaze, it was with the same loving expression she remembered glimpsing from under that nigh eternally up hood when she was a child, still short enough to see underneath it.

“All these moments that we shared, all the feelings that accompanied them…they are as real as aught that came before, and nothing will ever change that – will ever change what we mean to one another.” His head bowed. “If I have made you worry, then I beg your forgiveness. Heavens know you deserve better – that you deserve the time. Through the darkest of days, you have kept faith with me, standing tall as a proud daughter of the Crystarium – as an example to us all. I count myself blessed to have had you in my life, and I want you to know that.”

She let out a shaky exhale, looking down and to the side. “Why do you speak so? As if this were our last meeting? Truly, you have a knack for making people worry.” It was the only thing she could say to keep her voice from shaking. G’raha leaned back, startled, glancing back at Granye who only clicked her tongue and shook her head.

“Besides,” Lyna continued, “it is you who are an example to us all. You who have led us through countless trials. And you who will lead us through countless trials to come. So go, my lord. Do what you must. …But take care.”

He nodded. “I will. And once this is over, I will make time. I will answer all your questions. I swear.”

-~-~-~-~-~-

The sky was falling again.

Something was definitely wrong with him. He was standing there, staring out the window like a dumbstruck namazu. Wasn’t his plan supposed to be to go looking for Elidibus? If this didn’t herald the Emissary’s return to Lakeland, then Lahabrea wasn’t sure what did.

But instead of seeking out his brethren, like he had so daringly schemed, he was sitting in the inn room, waiting. Waiting for what, exactly? Did he expect Elidibus to somehow know he was sequestered away in the Pendants? Was he expecting rescue?

Deep in his soul, he knew what he was waiting for. Who.

Where there was trouble, she was bound to follow. And yet…the sky had remained full of clouds and meteors for quite some time. Perhaps she was still on the Source and wouldn’t learn of this until much later.

Then…what were they to do in the meantime?

…How strange it was – how absurd – to be on their side of unfolding events for once.

He contemplated sending a missive to one of the Scions – Ryne or one of the twins, at any rate – asking for any updates. Lahabrea had kept to himself for days and had little idea what they were doing. He could guess. If Elidibus was making his move, then surely he would have deployed what black-masked members of their ranks remained. Such tasks were usually left to others, like himself. But without others there to fulfil their roles, Elidibus would have to work doubly hard.

The sudden rattle of the door behind him nearly made Lahabrea’s soul jump out of his flesh, wards be damned. Who dared to shatter his days of introspective silence with such a noise?!

They were both catching their breath as their eyes locked.

She looked wrung out. There were smudges of dust on her face – she’d already been in a fight. He couldn’t help but wonder what it had been about this time.

“Granye.” Her name was a croak on his suddenly parched tongue.

Without ceremony or warning, Granye swept toward him and put her hand on his shoulder, herding him away from the window and to the table. Caught by surprise, he could only follow her lead.

“We dinnae have enough time. I need ye to tell me right now,” she pulled out a small pouch and tugged open the drawstrings, then carefully poured its contents onto the table, “which one is ‘lidibus’?”

Lahabrea’s eyes fell slowly to the glittering multicoloured array of baubles suddenly before him. For a moment he didn’t recognise them. The colours swam, the shapes blurred until he blinked a few times and focused. His eyes widened slightly, and his heart felt both like a stone and about to leap from his throat all at once.

“Where…where did you get these?”

“’brea, please, I dinnae have time. Which one?”

His first instinct was to hiss and shout, to demand his answers first. How had she come across their most valued artifacts!? What – who – gave her permission to even gaze upon them, let alone to possess them!?

His hand stretched out, fingertips brushing over the many faceted faces of the crystals sprawled haplessly before him. His hand came to a stop over the grey, colourless stone, almost entranced by its pale shimmer. He picked it up carefully and placed it in his palm, cradling it.

“…This one. This is his.”

She had never seen Lahabrea so subdued under his own will. He seemed to be elsewhere, in a trance. Until he looked up at her with an unusually distressed expression.

“What is happening?”

She plucked the grey stone from his hand, visibly startling him, his gaze following the stone as she put it one of her many pockets. “What are you planning to do with that!?” he shouted, crowding her, glaring up at her face, a mere breath away from reaching out his hands to search her person for it.

“Which one is yers?”

His face twisted in anger as she bushed his questions aside. “Granye-!”

“’brea, I really do not have time to explain! Please, which one is yers?”

He slowly settled back on his heels and looked back down to the pile. He picked out the light blue stone, this time clutching it tightly so as not to allow her the opportunity to snatch it. To his dismay, she began to gently sweep the rest of the crystals back into the pouch. Panic seized him and he grabbed her arm with his free hand, squeezing it tight enough to make her pause.

“Whatever it is you’re planning to do with them, you cannot! They are far too precious to be misused!”

She shut her eyes, a deep sigh escaping her. “…I know. I know what they are. I know.”

“I really don’t think you do!” he insisted dubiously.

But she only prised his hand off her, put the pouch back in a secure bag and stepped away from him. It was an act that made the pit of his stomach writhe. She wasn’t answering any of his questions, or assuaging any of his fears. It almost felt like she couldn’t…

She was at the door before he managed to muster his words.

“Granye!”

She stopped, tilting her head only slightly back in his direction, as if she didn’t have the time to even look at him properly.

“What are you going to do?”

Her silence was so heavy that he feared she would leave without answer. But turn around she did, and it became all too apparent that her brusque behaviour was not due to a continued grudge against him. She was on the verge of tears.

“Everythin’. I’m goin’ to do everythin’ I can. …Be safe, Lahabrea.”

She was gone as suddenly as she came, leave the door open in her wake, and a yawning pit in his gut. His hand squeezed his crystal tightly, until the sharp edges bit into his skin.

She had said goodbye like that once before – it was still a vivid enough memory to give him goosebumps.

It was just like their meeting at the Bureau of the Secretariat.

She was going into a battle that she wasn’t confident she would survive.

——————–

← Previous | Next →

[the-cookie-of-doom]

The second thing Porsche learns about Kim is that he does whatever Chay asks. There’s no other explanation for why he shows up at the compound within the hour, hissing and spitting but there. That’s good. It earns him some more points in his favor, because Chay deserves that kind of loyalty. Someone who will do anything and everything to make him happy, even if it requires a little bit of his own suffering to accomplish. 

It’s also really funny seeing the proof of how absolutely smitten he is. Both of them, really, but where Chay wears his heart on his sleeve, Kim is reserved. Doesn’t give anything away. He’s guarded, his emotions hidden away and locked down, right up until the moment his eyes land on Chay, and then everything about him softens. 

Porsche is surprised by how much it reminds him of Kinn. 

And then Kim looks back at Porsche, and shuts back down, and that’s all him. Kinn’s never had that tight of control over his emotions. It would be impressive if it weren’t making it more difficult to know him. 

“What do you want,” Kim says. 

“I need your help. It’s about Kinn.”

That cracks his cold exterior a little bit. Only a little, because if something big had happened, Kim would already know about it. “Is he okay?” 

“Mhm, yeah, he’s fine, I just need you to help me figure something out. Chay, go do homework, or something.”

“But, hia—”

“Scram.” Chay still doesn’t leave. Porsche heaves a sigh, rolls his eyes at the pair of them, then steers his brother to the door by his shoulders. “I promise not to eat your boyfriend, now go.” 

“I’m sorry, P’Kim!” Porchay shouts, as Porsche closes the door on him. Then he rounds on Kim, who’s looking distinctly uncomfortable with the turn of events, now that he can’t use Chay as a buffer. 

Porsche takes a step forward. Kim takes a step back. 

“What’re you so afraid of, P’Kim?” 

“Nothing.” Kim side-eyes him. “Should I be?”

“Obviously not.” Porsche walks past Kim to throw himself onto the sofa. He blithely gestures for Kim to take the chair across from him. He stays standing. 

“What do you want?” Kim asks again. 

Porsche leans back on the sofa, throws his arm over the back, crosses an ankle over his knee. Making himself comfortable. He graces Kim with an answer—the first thing that comes to mind, because Kim still looks ready to bolt, and Porsche honestly hadn’t expected to get this far. 

“Kinn’s birthday is coming up, and I don’t know what to get him.”

The confusion that replaces Kim’s blank slate of a face is oddly gratifying. Any reaction other than thinly-veiled irritation probably would be. 

“What does that have to do with me?” 

“You're his brother, aren’t you?”

“So is Tankhun.”

“Yeah, but he’s crazy. He’d tell me to buy Kinn a lion, or something.”

“Not a bad idea.” 

“Not helpful, either.” Porsche turns his best pleading eyes on Kim. Just like the younger man reminds him of Kinn, Porsche knows Chay learned those irresistible puppy eyes from him. Kim cracks a little bit more. “Come on, please? I don’t know what to get for the man that has everything, and it’s his first birthday since we’ve been together. I want to make it special.”

Kim squirms under his gaze. “You’re the one sleeping with him,” he mumbles, “You should know him better than I do.”

“Differently, but not better,” Porsche smoothly replies. He gives Kim a mean grin. “What, do you think you know Chay better than I do?”

Kim flushes, and he doesn't make eye contact, and he does not answer that question. Porsche doesn’t actually know if they’re sleeping together. He doesn’t think he’d be able to torture an answer out of Kim if he tried. 

“Just ask him what he wants,” Kim tries. 

“That defeats the whole point of the surprise. Obviously.”

Kim looks up at the ceiling for guidance of mercy. “I don’t know.” 

Porsche regards Kim carefully. An old memory surfaces. It feels like a lifetime ago, now, sitting in that sauna with Kinn. He’d asked about Kinn’s younger brother, the one who never comes home, who no one ever has anything nice to say about. Kinn told him it felt like he didn’t have a brother anymore. It hadn’t made sense to Porsche back then. 

Porsche couldn’t imagine a life without Chay in it, where he didn’t know everything going on in Chay’s life—which turned out to be exactly the case. He’d had no idea of his brother’s meeting with Kim, or their budding relationship. He didn’t even know about the heartbreak until after they’d reconciled. He still didn’t have any details. All he knows is that for a few weeks, his brother was dying his hair and getting into trouble and was always angry or crying, and he wouldn’t talk to Porsche. 

Maybe that’s what made Porsche understand what it was like not to know your own brother anymore. 

Maybe that’s why Porsche lets Kim leave, with a soft, “Alright, I’ll figure something out.”

Kim looks at him like he’s not sure if it’s a trap or not. Porsche isn’t giving up on him, but he decides Chay might be right this time; Kim isn’t the kind of person he can push. Not like this, at least. So he smiles, and shrugs, and gestures that Kim is free to leave. He’s out the door before Porsche can change his mind and summon him back.

hmm here's a prompt -- and no pressure to do this one if you don't want to!

porsche enlisting kim's help to find a gift for kinn. that's what porsche tells kim, anyway (he just wants to get to know kim a little better).

Anything for you, my friend! I have clinical in like an hour so I'm not going to finish this, so here's part 1 of Five Things Porsche Learns About Kim (bc ofc this is going to be a whole Thing)

When Porsche puts his mind to something, nothing can stop him. He's stubborn that way. Him and Porchay wouldn't have survived if he wasn't. Life has been throwing cheap shots at Porsche for his entire life; he's learned to roll with the punches and come up swinging, grinning all the while.

All that to say, he gets what he wants. And right now, he's decided what he wants, is a relationship with his little brother's boyfriend. Because there's nothing Porsche is more stubborn about than family, and that's what they are, now, whether he likes it or not.

Kimhan Theerapanyakul is about to learn the hard way that the Kittisawats are a package deal.

The first thing Porsche learns about Kim is that he's a squirrely little bastard. He weasels his phone number out of Chay - after finding out that Kinn didn't have it saved in his own phone, which will be a conversation for later - but Kim doesn't any answer any of the flurry of phone calls and texts that Porsche hurls his own way. Apparently, according to Porchay, Kim has memorized all the numbers of everyone important enough to be worth his time, and doesn't bother with anyone else.

What if someone has to borrow a phone? Porsche had asked.

Sucks to be them, Chay replied, with a silly smile that might mean he's kidding, or it might mean he knows exactly how ridiculous Kim is being, but still somehow likes him anyway. Porsche would prefer the former but he's almost certain it's the latter, and he's trying to figure out exactly why Chay would like him so much.

Because as far as Porsche can tell? Kim is more akin to a feral cat than anything else. Keeps his distance, sullenly watches Porsche anytime they happen to be in the same room, looking away only to scan for the nearest exit - which he takes at the earliest opportunity - and Porsche is certain Kim has actually hissed at him once. Probably not.

Since Kim won't answer unknown numbers, Porsche is forced to stoop to his level. Kinn's phone is of course out of the question, which only leaves one other person, at least only one Porsche can easily access, guaranteed to have it.

He's holding a struggling Porchay in a headlock while the phone dials. It only rings once.

"Hello, love," Kim greets, his voice warm and syrupy and so, so fond that Porsche has to gag, just to see the way his brother flushes.

"I'm sorry, Kim!" Porchay shouts. He's still struggling, digging his hands into Porsche's sides. "I tried to stop him!"

"Porsche." And there it is, that flat tone Porsche is used to.

"Hi, Kim, how's it going?" he asks casually.

"Goodbye.

"Wait, wait, wait!" It's no use. The line is already dead. Porsche releases his brother with a groan, and doesn't fight it when Chay snatches back his phone. "Why does he have to be so difficult?"

"Kim doesn't like being cornered, hia," Chay scolds him. "If you just talked to him like a normal person-"

"He won't let me! He keeps running!"

"You're intimidating!" Porsche doesn't believe that for a second. If Kinn wasn't intimated by him, no way his murderous little brother way. "Maybe you're coming on too strong? He probably think you're gonna kill him for, y'know..."

"No, I don't know." Porsche side-eyes Chay, who's no longer making eye contact. "Do I need to kill him?"

"No!"

"Should I want to?"

"Hia, No!" Chay throws his hands up. "See! This is why he won't talk to you! You're embarrassing."

"Good. Also, I don't care. I want to talk to him, and unless he wants me to lock you in your room and forbit you from seeing each other for the rest of your life, he better cooperate."

Chay lets out a sigh like the weight of all the world is bearing down on him. "I'll talk to him," he mumbles, sullen.

[psalm22-6]

Vianden Seen Through a Spider’s Web by Victor Hugo (1871) [source]

I was reading Victor Hugo and the Visionary Novel by Victor Brombert (would recommend) and in his analysis of Le Dernier Jour d'un Condamné he says that spiders often represent fate in Hugo’s works. Well I wanted to see if that was true for Les Misérables.  Honestly it seems like the relationship between ananke and arachne is more prominent in Notre-Dame than in Les Mis because I did not find much but then again, I haven’t done any literary analysis since high school so if you see anything I missed please add on. 

Mostly spiders turn up where you would expect them: in unwelcoming places like at the Thénardiers, at the Gorbeau hovel (both when Cosette lives there and when Marius lives there) and in the dingy room where Cosette Pontmercy receives Valjean (“Persecution of the spiders was not organized there”). I guess you could say that those are places where the characters have little control over their fate (of the few things Cosette remembers about her early life, she remembers the spiders, which can be read literally or figuratively). 

Javert, Montparnasse, and Thénardier (especially Thénardier) are all like spiders when they track Valjean but none of them succeeds. Valjean is spider like when saving the man aboard the Orion, but Hugo points out that it’s more of a reverse spider move. 

Spiders spin webs on the doors through which dead nuns leave the convent. Maybe this portends a rare window of opportunity. The most fateful allusion to spider webs I think is the light cast by the lanterns that look like webs, which Marius walks by on his way to the barricades, intent on dying. Those webs seem to follow him through the sewers, where Valjean feels caught by them and on the brink of death.  

Only Myriel has sympathy for the humble spider, saying  “Poor beast! It is not its fault!” Simplice’s mind is characterized by the absence of spiders, since she never tells a lie. The children in the convent explore the spider corner, which doesn’t seem very sinister. Contrast that with the terrible spiders that share Gavroche’s living space. 

Below the cut are all the references to spiders & spider webs that I found so that you can see for yourself, just copy and pasted from the Hapgood translation. Thank you for coming to my Ted Talk. 

CHAPTER I—SISTER SIMPLICE: To lie is the very face of the demon. Satan has two names; he is called Satan and Lying. That is what she thought; and as she thought, so she did. The result was the whiteness which we have mentioned—a whiteness which covered even her lips and her eyes with radiance. Her smile was white, her glance was white. There was not a single spider’s web, not a grain of dust, on the glass window of that conscience.

[The Bishop] CHAPTER XIII—WHAT HE BELIEVED:  One morning he was in his garden, and thought himself alone, but his sister was walking behind him, unseen by him: suddenly he paused and gazed at something on the ground; it was a large, black, hairy, frightful spider. His sister heard him say:— “Poor beast! It is not its fault!”

Why not mention these almost divinely childish sayings of kindness? Puerile they may be; but these sublime puerilities were peculiar to Saint Francis d’Assisi and of Marcus Aurelius. One day he sprained his ankle in his effort to avoid stepping on an ant. Thus lived this just man. Sometimes he fell asleep in his garden, and then there was nothing more venerable possible.

[The Thénardiers] CHAPTER II—TWO COMPLETE PORTRAITS: Cosette ran upstairs and down, washed, swept, rubbed, dusted, ran, fluttered about, panted, moved heavy articles, and weak as she was, did the coarse work. There was no mercy for her; a fierce mistress and venomous master. The Thénardier hostelry was like a spider’s web, in which Cosette had been caught, and where she lay trembling. The ideal of oppression was realized by this sinister household. It was something like the fly serving the spiders.

CHAPTER III—THE ANKLE-CHAIN MUST HAVE UNDERGONE A CERTAIN PREPARATORY MANIPULATION TO BE THUS BROKEN WITH A BLOW FROM A HAMMER: At last, the convict raised his eyes to heaven and advanced a step: the crowd drew a long breath. He was seen to run out along the yard: on arriving at the point, he fastened the rope which he had brought to it, and allowed the other end to hang down, then he began to descend the rope, hand over hand, and then,—and the anguish was indescribable,—instead of one man suspended over the gulf, there were two.

One would have said it was a spider coming to seize a fly, only here the spider brought life, not death. Ten thousand glances were fastened on this group; not a cry, not a word; the same tremor contracted every brow; all mouths held their breath as though they feared to add the slightest puff to the wind which was swaying the two unfortunate men.

CHAPTER I—MASTER GORBEAU: All this was dark, disagreeable, wan, melancholy, sepulchral; traversed according as the crevices lay in the roof or in the door, by cold rays or by icy winds. An interesting and picturesque peculiarity of this sort of dwelling is the enormous size of the spiders.

[Valjean at the Thénardiers] CHAPTER VIII—THE UNPLEASANTNESS OF RECEIVING INTO ONE’S HOUSE A POOR MAN WHO MAY BE A RICH MAN:  He traversed a corridor and came upon a staircase. There he heard a very faint and gentle sound like the breathing of a child. He followed this sound, and came to a sort of triangular recess built under the staircase, or rather formed by the staircase itself. This recess was nothing else than the space under the steps. There, in the midst of all sorts of old papers and potsherds, among dust and spiders’ webs, was a bed—if one can call by the name of bed a straw pallet so full of holes as to display the straw, and a coverlet so tattered as to show the pallet. No sheets. This was placed on the floor.

In this bed Cosette was sleeping.

CHAPTER X—WHICH EXPLAINS HOW JAVERT GOT ON THE SCENT: Then he began the game. He experienced one ecstatic and infernal moment; he allowed his man to go on ahead, knowing that he had him safe, but desirous of postponing the moment of arrest as long as possible, happy at the thought that he was taken and yet at seeing him free, gloating over him with his gaze, with that voluptuousness of the spider which allows the fly to flutter, and of the cat which lets the mouse run. Claws and talons possess a monstrous sensuality,—the obscure movements of the creature imprisoned in their pincers. What a delight this strangling is!

Javert was enjoying himself. The meshes of his net were stoutly knotted. He was sure of success; all he had to do now was to close his hand. . . When he reached the centre of the web he found the fly no longer there. His exasperation can be imagined.

[Description of the convent] CHAPTER VIII—POST CORDA LAPIDES: Towards the centre of this façade was a low, arched door, whitened with dust and ashes, where the spiders wove their webs, and which was open only for an hour or two on Sundays, and on rare occasions, when the coffin of a nun left the convent. This was the public entrance of the church.

[Chapter about the children in the convent] CHAPTER IV—GAYETIES: The refectory, a large apartment of an oblong square form, which received no light except through a vaulted cloister on a level with the garden, was dark and damp, and, as the children say, full of beasts. All the places round about furnished their contingent of insects.

Each of its four corners had received, in the language of the pupils, a special and expressive name. There was Spider corner, Caterpillar corner, Wood-louse corner, and Cricket corner.

[wow there are no spiders until Patron-Minette] CHAPTER IV—COMPOSITION OF THE TROUPE: From the vagrant to the tramp, the race is maintained in its purity. They divine purses in pockets, they scent out watches in fobs. Gold and silver possess an odor for them. There exist ingenuous bourgeois, of whom it might be said, that they have a “stealable” air. These men patiently pursue these bourgeois. They experience the quivers of a spider at the passage of a stranger or of a man from the country.

[Marius at the Gorbeau house] CHAPTER VI—THE WILD MAN IN HIS LAIR: The only furniture consisted of a straw chair, an infirm table, some old bits of crockery, and in two of the corners, two indescribable pallets; all the light was furnished by a dormer window of four panes, draped with spiders’ webs. Through this aperture there penetrated just enough light to make the face of a man appear like the face of a phantom. . . . One thing which added still more to the horrors of this garret was, that it was large. It had projections and angles and black holes, the lower sides of roofs, bays, and promontories. Hence horrible, unfathomable nooks where it seemed as though spiders as big as one’s fist, wood-lice as large as one’s foot, and perhaps even—who knows?—some monstrous human beings, must be hiding.

[“Alone with God, in a remote place, they will not be thinking of praying the Our Father” Marius discovers Jondrette’s plan to rob M. Leblanc] CHAPTER XIII—SOLUS CUM SOLO, IN LOCO REMOTO, NON COGITABUNTUR ORARE PATER NOSTER: Athwart the mysterious words which had been uttered, the only thing of which he caught a distinct glimpse was the fact that an ambush was in course of preparation, a dark but terrible trap; that both of them were incurring great danger, she probably, her father certainly; that they must be saved; that the hideous plots of the Jondrettes must be thwarted, and the web of these spiders broken.

[Valjean and Cosette live outside the convent] CHAPTER IV—CHANGE OF GATE: Her childhood produced upon her the effect of a time when there had been nothing around her but millepeds, spiders, and serpents. When she meditated in the evening, before falling asleep, as she had not a very clear idea that she was Jean Valjean’s daughter, and that he was her father, she fancied that the soul of her mother had passed into that good man and had come to dwell near her.

[Montparnasse attacks Valjean] CHAPTER II—MOTHER PLUTARQUE FINDS NO DIFFICULTY IN EXPLAINING A PHENOMENON: While Gavroche was deliberating, the attack took place, abruptly and hideously. The attack of the tiger on the wild ass, the attack of the spider on the fly. Montparnasse suddenly tossed away his rose, bounded upon the old man, seized him by the collar, grasped and clung to him, and Gavroche with difficulty restrained a scream.

[The Elephant] CHAPTER II—IN WHICH LITTLE GAVROCHE EXTRACTS PROFIT FROM NAPOLEON THE GREAT: An entire and gigantic skeleton appeared enveloping them. Above, a long brown beam, whence started at regular distances, massive, arching ribs, represented the vertebral column with its sides, stalactites of plaster depended from them like entrails, and vast spiders’ webs stretching from side to side, formed dirty diaphragms. Here and there, in the corners, were visible large blackish spots which had the appearance of being alive, and which changed places rapidly with an abrupt and frightened movement.

CHAPTER I—FROM THE RUE PLUMET TO THE QUARTIER SAINT-DENIS: Only the solitary and diminishing rows of lanterns could be seen vanishing into the street in the distance. The lanterns of that date resembled large red stars, hanging to ropes, and shed upon the pavement a shadow which had the form of a huge spider. These streets were not deserted. There could be descried piles of guns, moving bayonets, and troops bivouacking. No curious observer passed that limit. There circulation ceased. There the rabble ended and the army began.

[Valjean is slowly pushed away] CHAPTER I—THE LOWER CHAMBER: This chamber was not one of those which are harassed by the feather-duster, the pope’s head brush, and the broom. The dust rested tranquilly there. Persecution of the spiders was not organized there. A fine web, which spread far and wide, and was very black and ornamented with dead flies, formed a wheel on one of the window-panes. [And in the same chapter Cosette complains about receiving Valjean in a room with spiders, in the next chapter Nicolette gets rid of the spiders]

[through the sewers] CHAPTER VII—ONE SOMETIMES RUNS AGROUND WHEN ONE FANCIES THAT ONE IS DISEMBARKING: All was over. Everything that Jean Valjean had done was useless. Exhaustion had ended in failure.

They were both caught in the immense and gloomy web of death, and Jean Valjean felt the terrible spider running along those black strands and quivering in the shadows. He turned his back to the grating, and fell upon the pavement, hurled to earth rather than seated, close to Marius, who still made no movement, and with his head bent between his knees. This was the last drop of anguish.

[puniyo]

A reverse KinnPorsche (PorscheKinn ?) AU

I thought about this yesterday during shower (the best place for crazy ideas) and then @lovetoreadrose posted a request about it. This is based on the characteristics of the characters from the series and not the books.

Also, prepare for some necessary OOC.

Porsche is the rising head of the Kittisawasd family in the mafia world. He is known as the bodhisattva of the underworld (for being merciful) but his enemies know that if they ever see the rumored tattoo of the fiery phoenix on his back, even hell won’t save them.

Kinn happens to see it right in the first night they meet. (and later a major pleasure point during sex)

Chay is a cinnamon roll, guitar lover but not good at playing it. Porsche is looking for a trustworthy tutor for him, one that will not have his throat open during a change of strings but hasn’t found one yet (later Kinn -> Kim).

The 3 Theerapanyakul brothers live in a small on the outskirts of Bangkok, with the house (not a large one but comfortably spacious) that was left over by their parents.

Tankhun suffers from PTSD from his parents’ death in a car crash (he and Kinn were both in the car as well and Tankhun is the one who instinctively protected Kinn from any incoming shards and anything colliding in his direction) and has long developed social anxiety due to it. He has an online bakery though (the kitchen being his sacred place in the house), which Kinn fully supports. He is very extravagant and that is reflected in his cakes and pastries. He is also an underground, popular love guru (unknown to Kinn, and later even gives advice to Porsche).

Kim plays guitar and writes music for local productions. It’s not a money job but Kinn approves of it because he just wants him to be happy. There is a large age gap between Kinn and Kim, and Kinn really loves his brothers. He just doesn’t show it often.

Kinn is a music performer/bartender at night while managing a small youth hostel (not his obviously), later revealed to be a place where shady business happens. Kinn is used to it.

Kinn and Kim sometimes play together at night. Both brothers are normally being flirted by other people. Kinn also earns extra tips here. It is one of these nights that Porsche catches eye on Kinn. He asks Kinn to tutor Chay but the latter refuses and they start on the wrong foot because Porsche can be patronizing, saying he doesn’t earn enough at the bar and Kinn also sarcastically telling someone with too much good taste as Porsche would never understand the music of peasants.

At the back of the bar (same night), Porsche is attacked by a group of thugs and he and Kinn, although clumsily and still in their argument, fight together and somehow in unison, and get rid of those thugs.

During the fight, Kinn loses his watch (instead of being taken by Porsche), and because it was a gift from Tankhun, Tankhun makes a fuss about him losing it.

Porsche contacts Kinn again because of the watch and says he will only return it if Kinn meets him in the compound. There, Kinn sees Chay “playing” the guitar (more like murdering the guitar), and out of frustration, just teaches him how to hold it properly. Somehow, there are more attackers (because the security in the house is not good) and Kinn ends up protecting the younger mafia lord, breaking his arm in the process. Chay offers him compensation but Porsche wants to hire him.     

Porsche doesn’t trust anyone since all people either just want to use him or usurp him.

Pete should be Porsche’s main bodyguard but is more of a best friend.

Arm and Pol became good friends with Kinn, because Arm is as sarcastic and Pol is just oblivious to both men’s jokes about him.

TBC… (this is what my brain came up with during lunch time… and it is time to get back to work)

[lily292]

@adanima I’m inclined to think there was always potential for post canon PorscheVegas friendship but it is definitely true that it’s probably more solid in this au

Alley scene probably still happens without punching Vegas since Vegas has established his alibi that Tawan was working alone in an insane delusion to try to impress Vegas and Porsche is under the belief that Pete’s injuries are Kan’s fault. (Vegas is not sure where Porsches sudden hatred of his father came from but since he’s letting him see Pete, he doesn’t really care)

I imagine that whole sequence of events involving Uncle Arthee happens too but this time: Vegas knows what makes Porsche tick and is willing to hedge his bets. Promises to protect Pete but also hints at protecting his brother, setting a backup plan for Porsche potentially willing to speak up for mercy for Macau (Vegas himself doesn’t expect to survive) (this exists entirely because I’m not sure why he didn’t do this in canon, I thought he was smarter than that)

The minor family invasion happens but Vegas isn’t dumb. The game isn’t over until Kinn and Korn are dead. Even if he kills Kinn, if Korn survives Macau is in danger. He does not threaten Porsche when he corners Kinn in the garage to try to secure Porsches support for Macau in case Korn wins. This time Porsche still sees Vegas as a friend and is the one to start pleading, Tankhun and Arm makes explosions and canon resumes.

Post Canon:

Vegas wakes from the hospital and when Porsche visits: he makes the executive decision to continue this friendship because

1. They have common interests (Pete, motorcycles, Pete, little brothers, PETE)

2. Having Porsches support could make a very important difference that Vegas has to consider now that he’s responsible for other people

3. It would please Pete if he gets along with his friends and Porsche is the most tolerable of them

4. It would drive Kinn (and Tankhun) insane

Tankhun is very unhappy that Vegas has not only stolen Pete away from him but also convinced Porsche to be friends. This is unacceptable. He tries to steal them back but drunk Pete always misses Vegas and starts talking about how they should invite Vegas (Tankhun objects) or he should go home to Vegas (Tankhun objects) because poor Vegas said he’d be waiting for Pete to come home and what if he’s sitting in the dark alone waiting for him. Drunk Porsche is an enabler who cannot bear the thought of his friend sitting alone in wherever they live now sadly waiting for Pete to come home. The two frequently sneak off to see Vegas which utterly infuriates Tankhun and drives Kinn insane.

Kinn: Porsche stop running off to see Vegas and stay here

Very drunk Pete: he’s alone oh no what if he’s sad because he’s lonely

Very drunk Porsche who supports his friends and does not like the thought of them being lonely: if we can’t invite him we can go see him to cheer him up

PorschePete hatches plan to sneak off.

Vegas is not sure why every time they get drunk he ends up with both of them but drunk Pete is very cute and him calling Kinn that he has Porsche drives Kinn insane so he’s not complaining.

This also means that since Porsche and Vegas are friends they hang out together. Since Kinn and Pete get along sometimes it’s PorschePeteKinn, sometimes it’s PorschePete, sometimes it’s PorschePeteVegas, and sometimes it’s PorscheVegas. Pete is happy at least one of his friends gets along with Vegas. Kinn is very unhappy Porsche and Vegas hang out alone and he is not invited.

I imagine Macau and Chay have to be on friendly terms at least even if they’re not close since their brothers are friends (and neither Chay nor Porsche know about Vegas’ involvement in the kidnapping). I imagine they play video games together since then they don’t have to make awkward conversation. Maybe they get closer over time, who knows. This headcanon exists solely because I need this one conversation to take place at some point

Macau coming over to play games with Chay one day when their brothers are out together: why is Kinn sulking

Both ignore Kinn’s insistence that he is not sulking

Chay: because Hia went out with P’Vegas and didn’t invite him

Macau: oh. Well bros before hos

Bodyguards choke

Chay: did you just call P’Kinn a ho?

Macau: am I wrong?

Random VegasPete thoughts: has anyone ever considered how much more successful Vegas could’ve been at getting close to Porsche if he pretended to be into Pete instead of Porsche?

It was pretty obvious from the get go that Pete is Porsche’s closest friend in the compound. All he would’ve had to do was after the motorcycle ride be like hey you’re Pete’s roommate right and then proceed to try to bond with Porsche over Pete. Ask Porsche not to tell anyone about his crush on Pete since his cousins hate him and would make it so much harder for him/doesn’t want to scare Pete off/father would not approve.

Every time Pete freaks out and runs off as fast as possible, just play sad and Porsche would probably have comforted him. Porsche is also fairly oblivious about Vegas’ attempts to flirt with him at first so if he just kept it at about that level, Porsche would never have noticed. Every time Kinn gets jealous of Vegas for it, he would’ve seemed so much more unreasonable.

Tawan would probably have thrown a wrench into things but considering how easily Vegas killed him the first time, I doubt anyone would’ve cared if he was killed earlier so he never showed up during the series. Or show up when Tawan does just to “confide” in Porsche that Tawan was unhealthily obsessed with him or something and it would set the stage so Porsche could’ve been persuaded into thinking it was Tawan being delusional rather than Vegas plotting.

And of course Pete would’ve been the logical choice to be the object of his “affections”. Not only is he Porsche’s closest friend there but also his roommate and Porsche would’ve been a reasonable person to ask for help. There’s also the fact that since he sees Pete as extremely loyal there’s no chance (he thinks) of Pete reciprocating and then being stuck in a fake relationship to get close to Porsche.

This would also have made Kinn’s orders for Pete to tail Vegas so much funnier. After the condom scene: I propositioned him and he freaked out and thought I was joking. *sad face* cue Porsche in supportive friend mode.

Not sure not impact this would’ve had on KinnPorsche’s relationship but I imagine a lot of Kinn trying to warn Porsche about Vegas, reinforcing the idea that if they find out he likes Pete, they’ll interfere to make it harder for Vegas, reinforcing the must keep this a secret. It would also drive Kinn low key insane that Porsche is just not willing to listen to him about Vegas and I think Vegas would love that. Also maybe enjoy having more opportunity to mess with Pete.

At some point, I imagine that Pete would just get used to Vegas, especially since Porsche would take any and every opportunity to leave them alone together. Once he does, the sassiness emerges and I imagine them falling in love along the way unintentionally.

Just thought it was pretty ironic that if he had pretended to be in love with Pete (who ended up being the love of his life), Vegas would’ve had better success at getting close to Porsche (and driving Kinn crazy) than he did by pretending to be in love with Porsche.

[petitefleuriste]

You know you're overtired when you're so sensitive that you cry from the smallest thing. It's 3:25 pm and I think I'll need to take a nap. When I was making scrambled eggs for six people earlier for lunch it felt like the hardest thing to do. We've been on the road for 4 days now and I pray the Lord restores us all, especially my dad, who has done all the driving. Mum has been cooking all the dinners. Grateful I have no urgent tasks to do. All I'll need to do later is hoover the downstairs living space. Now I'm in bed and can hear the whistling wind outside. The landscape is feeling otherwordly. The sky is now a very light grey. No blue sky in sight. I'll just be lying here with a hot chai tea and commune with God. So grateful for how He provides and cares. We watched Seinfeld last night as a family and it was the first time in years since I've watched it so it was very enjoyable. I'm thankful to God. Thankful I can come to Him empty-handed and receive in plenty. When I was crying I saw His mercy and kindness. He's so tender and gentle and strong. I prayed for a new heart today and a new mind. I pray for a heart and mind after His.

[luvluvnitrodynamite]

jealous jujutsu kaisen characters <3

ft. itadori yuuji, gojou satoru g/n!reader (sfw, with some suggestive themes in gojou)

itadori yuuji - watching itadori get jealous is a bit cute, if you're being honest. i mean, take what happened in the grocery store yesterday. ~ "yuuji, we're out of rice," you say to him, re-checking your list. "we're out of rice??? impossible. i just had some yesterday." you sigh. "be that as it may, that doesn't change the fact that we don't have it anymore. can you grab it really fast?" he pouts a bit. you're not sure if he genuinely doesn't want to leave your side or if he's just stalling to remember where the rice aisle is. regardless, you don't want to stand here all day. "yuuji, i'll give you a kiss as a reward if you get it for me." he perks up immediately, giving you a grin and a thumbs up before dashing in the opposite direction. you smile to yourself. itadori may have been an idiot, but he's your idiot. the thought warms your heart. you push your cart of the produce section and into a large selection of rows, choosing one closest to you. you seem to be in the tea aisle. oh good, you think. we've been out of tea for a couple of days now. you peruse the section, picking up some green tea. you get some chamomile as well, stacking the boxes carefully so they won't get crushed by fruits. mmm what about chai? you search the boxes, only to see it's at the very top self. you reach up, fingers just barely touching the platform it's on. you can't even brush up against the box. you try standing on tiptoes, looking a bit silly as you try to extend your body beyond its natural length. you're thinking maybe you should wait for itadori to get back when a different hand easily plucks the box off the shelf. you follow the hand to its owner, to see it belongs to a tall guy about your age. he's cute you suppose, but it's no itadori. still, you smile sweetly and charm him with a "thank you! there was no way I was going to reach that." He smiles broadly back at you. "No problem," he replies. "You like chai tea?" You want to be polite and he's nice enough, so you respond "definitely! I don't know if it's my favorite, but it's a staple in my pantry." He blushes a bit, and scratches his hand behind his neck. "Yeah, same," he says. "There's actually a really nice café that opened up a few blocks away from here. They make a mean cup of chai, and they have these delicious little cinnamon rolls that go really well with them. If you're free any time soon, do you want to try one with me?" You open your mouth to politely turn him down when you feel a protective arm wrap around your waist. You turn your head to see a pink-cheeked itadori glaring at the stranger. he does look mad, but you also think he just looks so cute. ah, the duality of man. "oh, hi yuuji! did you get the rice?," you ask him. you have priorities, after all. "yeah," he says, not moving his arm or his gaze. "who's this, love?" oh, he's really jealous if he's pulling out the love. you try to defuse the situation. "oh, this guy just helped me get some tea from the top shelf. thanks again!" you say. the guy was not expecting a wild itadori to emerge from the tall grass, and is trying to figure a way out. "no problem," he repeats. "i'll see you around, yeah?" without waiting for a response, he puts the tea in your cart and walks away. "did you know that guy?" you ask, as itadori relaxes and puts the rice in the cart. "no, but it sure looks like you did," he says, a bit annoyed. "yuuji, are you jealous?" you tease. "no! of course not!" he retorts. his cheeks are still pink though, and now he's looking around like he expecting another guy to run through and sweep you up in their arms. you decide to take mercy on him, and tug one of his hands in your own. "hey, don't i owe you a reward for getting my rice?" he perks up, and flicks his gaze almost imperceptibly towards your mouth. you sweetly press his lips to his cheek, and smile innocently when he gives you an annoyed look. you turn around to go the cart, only to see that the tea guy has returned. itadori sees him too, and he looks mad again. however, instead of confronting him, he looks at you and says,

"c'mon, i meant a real kiss." he gently places his hands on your face and pulls you in. it's a light, yet passionate kiss. the rhythm is slow and soft, but there's a definite intensity behind it. his tongue has just swiped your bottom lip, entering your mouth when you remember that you're in public. you pull away and glance at the end of the aisle. the guy is gone. you glance at itadori. he is grinning triumphantly at you. you smile in spite of yourself, going back over to the cart. "yuuji?" he comes over, wrapping his arms around you and placing his head over your shoulder. "yes, my love?" "you got the wrong kind of rice." ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ gojou satoru - a jealous gojou is not a good gojou. if you think he's annoying normally, it's about to get so, so, so much worse. ~ "satoru please!" you beg. you're feeling desperate now, there's no other way out. you two have gone to the park for a picnic to savor one of his rare days off. the spot you chose was warm and sunny with few people around; the day was supposed to be lovely. and it was, at least for a while. you had spent just the last hour cloud-watching, peacefully pointing out odd shapes in the sky. really though, you were just taking an excuse to lay on his stomach and talk. you two get so little time together like this that you try to savor every moment. however, in your analysis of a banana-shaped cloud far on the horizon, you noticed a familiar shape. the shape of your ex, to be precise. you stiffen, and gojou notices. "hey," he says. "what's wrong?" you don't respond immediately; your mind is swirling with schemes to avoid them. if you guys packed up now, could you go without being noticed? no, you were too close. could you hide? no, there wasn't anywhere to duck behind. you had to stop time somehow, but how? gojou waves his hand over your face. "hey? everything ok down there? have you gone into the void?" he asks. you start to glare at him, but then his words hit you in the face. the void. he can draw your ex into the void while you make a hasty getaway. you sit up, dropping your angry look and switching to a more saccharine one. "satoru," you start. "can you do a favor for me?" he gives you an easy smile. "of course, anything for you," he replies. "great, can you trap the person in the white shirt over there into the infinite void?" that certainly gets his attention. "i'm sorry, what?" he asks incredulously. "ok, so that's my ex over there. things ended kind of...awkwardly, and I just don't want to deal with this right now. could you trap them into the void before they notice me?" "i don't think the relationship was the thing that was awkward love. maybe you should just, you know, face the problem head on?" he suggests. "it can't be that bad. and even if it is, at least it'll be entertaining. actually, i'll give you two some privacy!" he says cheerfully, and promptly leaves. that brings you to your current predicament. you could be responsible and mature, but that would involve getting over your breakup. you may have slightly understated the awkwardness of the situation. truthfully, you got dumped and you pined over your ex for weeks afterward. you especially did not take it when when you were being broken up with. you begged them not to leave you while crying, making quite the scene in the restaurant they had chosen. now, with no lingering emotions, you just feel guilty and embarrassed for how you acted. but that was in the past, and you could move past that as long as it wasn't walking up to you. and now with gojou walking away, and them walking up...oh no. oh no oh no ohnonono. you take a deep breath in, and breathe out. i'm not the same person i was then, you think to yourself. this thought steadies your nerves; in fact, maybe gojou was right. you have been wondering what they’ve been up to, after all, and you might stop feeling guilty if you apologize. a bright and cheerful “hey!!” jolts you out of your thoughts; there they are. “hey,” you respond, a bit less cheerfully. you push yourself up off the ground to

greet them, and are a bit surprised when they pull you into a hug. it’s a more intimate hug than you would have guessed, with their hands snaking around your waist and gently cradling your head. they smell...nice, you think to yourself. as you pull away, you feel watched. you’re not sure from where, since you can’t see him, but you know gojou is watching you. well, good. he refused to help you out of this mess, so maybe you’ll make him suffer a bit. neither one of you say anything for a second.. “so….i guess how are you?” they ask you, smiling. “i’m great,” you reply. “how are you?” you ask. “good.” you stand there, neither one of you wanting to interrupt the delicate silence. “so,” you both say at the same time. you guys laugh, and just like that, the weird silence dissipates. “you go first,” they say to you. “well, i just want to say that i’m sorry. i know breaking up was probably hard for you, but i think i just made it harder by, you know, being unable to let us go. that was unfair to you and it definitely made things harder for me, so i’m really sorry about that.” “oh, wow,” your ex say, a bit surprised. “well, that sort of contrasts what i’m about to say. i was going to say that you were right.” huh? what? you furrow your eyebrows together, and stare back with a bemused expression. “i was right?” you venture. “about...what?” your ex sheepishly scratches the back of their head, giving you an embarrassed smile. “about us, i mean. you kept telling me that we were better together, and that we would only be unhappy apart. i know it’s been a while since we were together, but lately it’s all i can think about. i….still think i love you.” well, that was a bombshell. you just stare at them, stunned into silence. “sorry, i know that this is way too much for just meeting again; you just looked so beautiful and it reminded me of when we were together and i just miss being together and -- ah, i’m rambling like a crazy person now, aren’t i?” they wryly ask. you giggle. “just a bit,” you respond. they take your hands into theirs, tracing their thumb lightly over your skin. their eyes are honest, and their face is hopeful. “i know this is really sudden, but would you maybe want to get dinner with me soon? you don’t have to, of course, but…?” they pull one hand out, and drift it up to your face, caressing your jawline with such care that if you were not previously engaged, you might have melted into their arms right there. but you already had a boyfriend, even if he was an annoying one. you thought briefly about pretending to accept their offer, just to needle him, but decided against it. instead, you just kindly smiled at your ex, and pull their hand from your face. “this is really sweet,” you say. “but, unfortunately, i’m already taken.” their face falls, but they quickly mask it with a smile. “ah, i get it. someone as amazing as you would get snapped up fast. it was just my mistake to let you go,” they say, pulling back. “well, why don’t we start over with this. how about instead of a romantic dinner date, we just get coffee sometime. no love attached,” they add. “sure,” you respond. “i have been wanting to know what you’ve been up to.” “same here, how about tomorrow at 11?” they ask. “it’s a date!” you joke. “now, what’s a date?” you hear a familiar, slightly pouty voice from behind you. of course. why wouldn’t gojou appear at the worst possible time. you turn to your boyfriend, who has a shit-eating grin on his face. he’s planning something, but what? “hey ‘toru, this is my ex." you face your ex. "this is my boyfriend, gojou satoru." your ex smiles at him, blissfully unaware. "nice to meet you. we were just planning on getting some coffee soon." “oh, is that so? you’re not trying to steal my love away from me, are you?” there’s no threat in his voice, no hostility, but all the same your ex seems to pick up on his vexing energy and straightens up a little bit. “no, of course not,” they say. “hmmm, i believe you. but all the same, i could have sworn i heard talk of

a date. that reminds me love, weren’t we just finishing up on a date ourselves?” you sigh. “yes, we were.” turning to your ex, you turn back to say goodbye. that, however, is cut off by your lovely boyfriend picking you up and throwing you over his shoulder like a sack of flour. shocked, you pound your fists against his back. “gojou satoru, put me down right now.” gojou ignores you, instead sticking one hand out to shake your ex’s hand. “sorry to cut this short, but we simply must finish our date back at our place. wish i could invite you, but this is a more private activity.” he cheerfully states. mortified, you start kicking him and hitting him even harder. “ ‘toru! put me down so i can dump you right here and now!” “ahh, can’t have that now. we’d best get going so that someone learns a lesson, see you around!” with that and a quick sweep down to gather the picnic supplies, gojou carries you kicking and screaming out of the park. once outside, he puts you down. “satoru, what the absolute hell was that??? that was so embarrassing!” you cry out. “it was your idea to let me deal with that, and then you swoop in once it’s all taken care of? now they’re going to think i’m...i’m... i don’t even know what they’ll think of me, but i’m sure it won’t be positive!” “shhhh,” says gojou. “you might make a scene.” if you were mad before, well, now you’re apoplectic. “a scene???? i might make a scene?” you spit out seethingly. the entire way home, you tear into him for embarrassing you in front of your ex and an entire park full of people. finally, you get home and you drop the j-word. “and all this because you were just jealous??” now that you’ve dropped the threshold of your front door and pulled the trigger, gojou’s entire demeanor shifts. he drops the picnic supplies and picks you up again, but instead of going over his shoulder you’re now up against the wall. you instinctively wrap your arms and legs around him to keep from falling, skillfully intertwining your bodies together. his blindfold has slipped off, and now his piercing blue eyes are pouring into yours with a powerful intensity. your previous angry words slip off into the void, as you’re transfixed by the way he’s staring at you. he leans forward to rest his forehead against yours, the tips of your noses just barely touching. “yeah,” he breathes. “i got jealous. i let an ex come up to you and try to take you away, and i only sat there and watched. i knew you would never cheat on me, but i just got annoyed with myself for encouraging that. you mean too much to me to just let you be taken by someone else, so i really wanted to get you out of there as fast as possible. so, yeah, i’m sorry for embarrassing you. let me make it up to you?” it’s hard to say no in this position, but you try to hold your resolve. “satoru, you just can’t do that. promise me you’ll never do that again?” he’s still looking at you with that seriousness, so he replies “yes” with uncharacteristic sincerity. there’s nothing out of character though about the way he moves in to kiss you though, full of desire and need. you fall into a steady rhythm, a sweet push-and-pull of dominance flicking between you two. gojou suddenly takes over, and just as suddenly, he pulls away and starts carrying you to the nearest flat surface. “let me show you how much you mean to me, yeah?”

[edencantstopfallininlove]

Liebesbeweis or: Valuable Lessons

A/N: THIS is the fic that was hampered by not one, but TWO power cuts! Unbelievable. Anyway, here’s some family slice of life, in which Dhar learns a lesson on not over-catastrophising...

To be an effective soldier, so Dhar was taught, one must be prepared to launch into action as soon as possible. A single wasted second could be where the lines between success and failure grow distinct. Several years had passed since his defection from that place. While he had slowly unleared its more toxic teachings, he still clung to the importance of rapid response. Especially when it came to being a father.

An opportune moment to put it into practice arrived one night when his sleep was disturbed by an abrupt scream. His immediate instinct was to flip over to the opposite side of the bed; an unstirring Heather, muttering something incomprehensible, clearly couldn’t have made such a sound. It could only mean one thing.

Nasrin.

Under usual circumstances, she was as restful a sleeper as they came. Heather had joked about her child inheriting her ability to enjoy deep sleep many times before. Whatever had distressed Nasrin couldn’t have been as simple as an odd noise. There had to have been serious trouble. And whoever or whatever caused it? Dhar hoped they had the wisdom not to bother begging for mercy.

Refusing to let Nasrin suffer for a moment longer than necessary, Dhar nevertheless made an effort to keep quiet, staying against the walls as he walked down the corridor to Nasrin’s room. He prayed that the stray creaks from the floorboards didn’t give him away regardless. Noticing distressful sobs from the other side of the red-painted door, he took a deep breath to steel himself, lowered the handle and opened up, flicking on the light switch and letting the door bounce against the wall as an intimidation tactic towards his child’s assailant-

Only to realise that he had overreacted.

Nasrin was alone and physically unharmed, but the untiring trembles of her body and her gaze flicking about the room gave her away. Chai, her plush horse and usually happy victim of rough play, was instead fulfilling a duty of comforter as she was clutched against her.

Dhar immediately realised that his overprotective approach to the situation had not helped. In fact, his sudden entrance provided poor Nasrin with a second dose of shock which he needed to dampen, now. Relaxing his posture so as not to upset her any further, he knelt down to meet her eye level, waiting until she looked his way before deciding on what to do next. There was no need for this, however, as Nasrin let Chai fall to one side and clumsily reached forward with her small arms, allowing Dhar to pick her up and hold her to his chest. Sat against the bedside, he stroked her unkempt hair and spoke soft apologies.

“Oh Gods, honey, I’m so sorry! It’s only me! I thought someone had hurt you...”

Dhar’s heart ached at the thought of his actions having unsettled his precious daughter. He had slipped into an old habit, with the consequences more than apparent. As the fabric of his night shirt grew damp with thankfully slowing tears, he came to a realisation. It was not fair on Nasrin, or on Heather even, to always assume the absolute worst. If every threat to a child was met with aggressive retribution, they would never be allowed to resolve said threats on their own. Wrapping Nasrin up in cotton wool would only make her more fragile as she grew up, as well, and there was no possible scenario where he would want that for her. Instead, from now on he would intervene only when necessary, consider the trust Nasrin placed in him and approach stressful situations with a cool head.

A thin rustling of material prompted Dhar to look down and see Nasrin, having lifted her head to speak.

“...I had a bad dream,” she said as she was put back down on her bed, russet sheets pulled away.

Well, that explained.

“Oh, no... Do you want to talk about it?”

Nasrin shook her head, clutching Chai a tad tighter.

“That’s fine. I won’t make you if you don’t feel like it.”

Ignoring the tick of the hallway clock, a long silence passed, neither parent nor child sure what to say to the other. Unsurprising, considering they had both endured a stressful five minutes.

“I don’t want to bother you but, um...” Nasrin’s eyes darted to the floor, then almost immediately back up again. “Can I come into you and Mommy’s bed?”

Heather will have questions about this, thought Dhar as he contemplated how to answer. Surely being woken up at this time of night would annoy her? Be that as it may, their child was seeking the security of both of her parents; if he knew his wife at all, he would know that she’d want to nurture the safe environment that Nasrin needed, and would do so unconditionally.

“You don’t have to worry about bothering us. What matters is that you feel safe. And if you feel safer sleeping with us, that’s fine. I’m sure Mommy will understand. Oh, and-” He gently flicked Chai’s braid. “Chai can come, too. Would you like that?”

After a beat, Nasrin nodded, the roots of a smile forming as her plush companion’s place in the family was affirmed. It was admittedly silly, but the tiny moment was enough to ease the tension. She popped off the edge of the bed and followed her dad to his and Heather’s shared quarters.

With the situation explained and room made for one more, Heather rested Nasrin in her own nook, taking a moment to ask something of her.

“If you’re ever scared like that again,” she whispered, tucking a strand of hair behind Nasrin’s ear, “It’s okay to come and ask for help or comfort. Don’t worry about putting us out - we’ll want to help you, Nasrin. You don’t ever have to face it alone.”

Before Nasrin was born, Dhar had been through moments where Heather would lie awake, staring out the window and wondering if she would be a bad mother. She would pile on the justifications for her claim, from time-blindness to worrying about melting down in front of the baby. Eventually, Dhar decided to counter her concerns by reminding her of everything he loved about her. Her compassion, her creativity, how she sees the best in people. All of the traits that would transfer well to parenthood. Having Nasrin in their lives, seeing how mother and daughter have bonded and what a damn good job Heather was doing raising her, especially right in that moment? It was almost enough to make him well up. He prayed to every god he could think of that his little one would have a better childhood than he did.

Docile rain began to pitter-patter on the roof. It was all the lullaby that was needed as the now-happy family, curled up in perfect warmth, allowed themselves to be embraced by sleep.

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