#this man is supposed to land us on mars

[allthebrazilianpolitics]

Brazil's top court says X paid pending fines to wrong bank

Brazil's Supreme Court said on Friday that lawyers representing social media platform X did not pay pending fines to the proper bank, postponing its decision on whether to allow the tech firm to resume services in Brazil.

The payment of the fines, which X lawyers argued that the company had paid correctly, is the only outstanding measure demanded by the court in order to authorize X to operate again in Brazil.

X has been suspended since late August in Brazil, one of its largest and most coveted markets, after not complying with court orders related to hate speech moderation and failing to name a legal representative in the country, as required by law.

Earlier on Friday, X, owned by billionaire Elon Musk, filed a fresh request to have its services restored in Brazil, saying it had paid all pending fines.

Continue reading.

[tarotsoul]

Ghost in the Wind — Part One

SUMMARY: All your life, your presence had been nothing more than a faint kiss of a breeze—nothing impactful, nothing worth noticing. So why did it hurt so much when that remained the case after moving to Prythian?

WARNINGS: a bit of angst, feelings of self-hatred and worthlessness, brief mentions of sexual assault

WORD COUNT: 3.8k

Series Masterlist

“No.”

There was no room for argument in Nesta’s tone, no room for anything other than agreement or else she’d reign the Hells on all of them. Her mate be damned, she would not leave the mortal lands without you. Not again.

“If we take her,” Cassian gritted his teeth, “I am inviting her husband to wage war on our kind if he so chooses.”

Nesta bared her teeth. “Rafe is nothing but a coward and a sorry excuse of a man. What kind of war could he wage? If she stays, then so do I.”

Cassian blanched at his mate, his teeth grinding. They were only supposed to have stopped through for no more than a week, to ensure things in the mortal lands were restoring to somewhat of the normalcy they once had before the war.

He blinked at Nesta, noting the way she bore her feet into the solid ground, as if planting herself there like a tree weaving its roots into the soil. He knew the love she had for her cousin, her only friend, as she’d once told him. The guilt she’d felt when she first left the village, left you, hadn’t eased in the slightest.

Perhaps this was the reason she insisted on joining Cassian on this third-grade mission. He cast a quick glance over her shoulder to the small stone house you were occupying, and closed his eyes to ground his breathing.

“We can’t just bring her back without consulting Rhys first.”

Nesta rolled her eyes. “Screw Rhys. I’ll deal with him myself if I have to. She is my family, Cassian. My friend. Every night, he beats her and abuses her and takes from her what she will not willingly give. She is coming back with us.”

Cassian took another grounding breath, the iron will in Nesta’s eyes granting not even a fraction of negotiation. There was too much going on right now, too much to sift through to rebuild their city and legions.

But Nesta was right, and despite not knowing you, he couldn’t stomach the idea of leaving a vulnerable soul with a monster who took and abused like Rafe did. Especially not when he saw the pain on his mate's eyes for her cousin.

“Ten minutes. Tell her to pack necessities only. We will need to leave within the hour if we wish to be gone before her husband returns.”

Nesta didn’t cast him a second glance as she turned and sprinted into your home. You scrambled back from the window, heat painting your cheeks that you’d been caught watching them, straining your ears for a sliver of their conversation, to no avail.

She said nothing of your snooping, only grabbed your hand and dragged you to your sleeping chambers. “Pack only what you need. You’re coming back with us.”

You blinked, lungs seizing the air you tried to breathe. Leaving? For the Fae lands?

“Ness,” you tried, but she held up a slender hand to cut you off.

“Don’t. I made the mistake of leaving you behind before. I won’t do it again.” She couldn’t look at you. Not at the bruises marring your skin, or the split lip you’d earned yourself two nights ago for leaving an unwashed pot in the sink.

So you didn’t think twice about the consequences of being caught fleeing. You didn’t think twice at all as you stuffed minimal clothing into a satchel along with a photo of your beloved mother and the worn journal you kept hidden beneath the mattress.

Nesta allowed you a moment to compose yourself as she returned to her mate just outside your home. Home. As if you could ever have truly referred to it as that. This was not a home. You hadn’t had a home since your mother passed ten years ago. Since you married Rafe and your whole world fell apart.

You had prayed. Prayed to whatever out there that would listen. Hoped and hoped that one day your salvation would arrive, that you’d be finally spared from the misery you’d been subjected to for so long. From the pain and terror and loneliness.

You hadn’t realised you were absentmindedly twisting the iron band on your ring finger until the small stone in the centre scratched at your skin. That Gods damned ring that bound you to the monster you called your husband. That iron cage that kept you as his possession instead of his love.

Yet the fear… the fear at the idea of removing it sat far too heavy in your chest. The fear of him finding you, punishing you. But he wouldn’t find you, you knew that. Rafe would never dream of crossing that veil into the Fae lands. And even if he did, you were sure he’d be eaten alive within the first breath he took in that world.

When you met Nesta and Cassian outside, they both had a satchel of their own on their shoulders; stuffed to the brim of bread and cheese and skins of water they’d raided from the kitchen.

The General nodded at you once as you approached. You wondered if you’d done anything to offend him, or perhaps he found this—you—to be an unnecessary burden to him and his day.

“Thank you,” you managed to utter, and both he and Nesta felt the pure relief and gratitude in your voice.

Cassian’s resolve softened, a sympathetic gleam in his eye and he hated himself for a moment for even considering leaving you here alone.

“It’ll take us half a day to reach the wall,” Nesta began, unmoving from Cassian’s side. “When we pass, Azriel will meet us at the border in Spring. Cassian cannot fly the both of us.”

You couldn’t help the apology that slithered up your throat. “I don’t mean to be a burden—“

But it was Cassian who growled in response, “You are not. You are family, and we don’t leave family behind.”

You walked for hours, legs sore and tired and throbbing from the stamina you lacked. But you didn’t want to stop, to ask for a break. They were kind enough to have brought you, you needn’t add any more time onto their already long journey.

So you kept your mouth shut and willed your legs to move, one in front of the other. Hours passed and you could feel that familiar panic rise in your stomach. Nightfall was approaching, which meant Rafe would surely be home by now…

You didn’t want to allow yourself to think of that. Of what he was doing after finding the home empty with nothing but your wedding band on the dresser, the only proof you ever even existed in that house.

It was Cassian who made the call to stop for a break, as though only now remembering how weak a mortal body was compared to a Fae’s—or in his case, an Illyrian.

Nesta had told you many things about her family in Prythian; the members of the Inner Circle, the beautiful city of Velaris and all the wonders it had to offer. Despite the relief you felt for leaving, the anxiety of entering the Fae lands was unmatched to anything you’d felt before.

You rested for only thirty minutes, the three of you eating your way through an entire satchel of food and two skins of water. Perhaps Nesta and Cassian were as tired as you were, though you figured not.

And by the time you reached the wall, night had surrounded you in complete darkness, nothing but a ripple in the air to suggest you had met the end of your homelands.

It was opaque for the most part, but the air seemed to glimmer and fold, as if you were looking magic dead in its face. You allowed your fingers to reach shakily for it, a fearful thought stopping you from making contact.

You turned to your cousin. “Will it hurt?”

She took your hand. “No, though when we pass through you’ll need to stay as close to Cassian and I as possible. Your scent—it’ll be a beacon to all sorts of creatures that roam freely within the Spring.”

Nesta shrugged off her jacket and handed it to you. “It’ll somewhat mask your scent. Just long enough until we meet with Azriel.”

You shoved your arms in the jacket as you put it on over your own and took Nesta’s hand again. Her eyes met yours, something akin to relief and sorrow flickering in her gaze. You didn’t want her pity. And it cleaved your heart into two knowing that you could never do anything to repay her for this, to express just how far your gratitude stretched.

Cassian and Nesta took three steps forward and as you followed, the air rippled around you…you breathed in the new life and second chance you’d been given.

But nothing could have prepared you for what awaited on the other side of the veil.

The first and only thing you saw were a set of sharp, gleaming white teeth before you were shoved to the ground with a hard thud, your head hitting against soft grass with a thump.

Snarls and grunts and shrieks surrounded you, and in the time it took to regain your bearings, Cassian and Nesta were sheathing their daggers once more as the…thing that had attacked lay dead on a field of daisies.

With eerie calmness, you assessed the creature. It was huge, twice the size of Cassian and about four times the size of you. Dark black fur covered its body and ruby red eyes that lifelessly stared into your very soul.

For some strange, obscene reason, you couldn’t bring yourself to look away. Not as you breathed in the fresh soil beneath your feet. It felt as though your world had been turned on his axis, as if only now could you see clearly.

Then you heard it, a distant swooshing in the wind. You angled your neck toward the noise, eyes not needing to squint in the darkness as the stars illuminated the sky so beautifully.

Your brows furrowed, but you did not look away. “Something is coming.”

Both Nesta and Cassian followed your gaze then, stepping closer to your still body. The figure came closer, your initial thoughts of it being a large bird being dismissed as a pair of wings much like Cassian’s, only larger, flipped through the midnight air.

You smelt him before catching his face. Pine and wood and parchment. Mint. There was a hint of mint and something sweet like cinnamon as the glorious Illyrian landed swiftly onto the grass.

Azriel.

You remembered him, the Shadowsinger. Silver streaks of the moon casted across his brown skin as he approached swiftly, those dark and languid shadows moving across his form and snaking the earth until they halted at your feet—assessing.

“So glad you finally joined the party.” Cassian said in greeting, though Azriel paid no mind to the tone his brother offered.

Those shadows wrapped around your ankles softly, slinking your skin as they felt you out. You felt something then, a tug in the air that seemed to pull the shadows back to Azriel’s towering form.

That was when you looked at him, breath stolen from your lungs. He was beautiful. A warrior, that you could tell. Solid muscle covered every inch of him, dark black hair that sat messily on his head and swept down his forehead and brows. Hazel eyes met yours, his lips parting—no doubt at the state of your bruised face.

He was beautiful when you’d seen him previously on his brief visit to speak with Lucien… but now, it was as though you were seeing him truly–with so much clarity in your gaze it almost blinded you. Everything about this land did. 

“There are more coming, so unless you want a fight, I suggest we leave.”

His tone held no room for argument, yet he spoke in an unrushed drawl, as if these creatures were the least of his concern. He was as large as Cassian, daggers strapped to his leathers, so you supposed they likely posed little to no threat to him and his skills.

“Can you winnow?” Nesta asked.

It wasn’t lost on you how overlooked you were, despite being the reason for his presence. But like most of your life, it came as no surprise to be somewhat invisible. Cast aside. Unnoticed.

Azriel shook his head. “We’ll need to fly to the border between Autumn and Winter, from there I can winnow us back to Velaris.”

Cassian nodded, reaching for Nesta. “We’ll go first, make sure the area is safe. Follow us in five minutes.”

Nesta looked at you, a silent conversation between you both.

You’ll be okay?

I’ll be fine. If you trust Azriel then so do I.

No other words were exchanged when Cassian hauled Nesta into his arms, spread his magnificent wings and shot to the skies. You watched until they were a mere dot beside the stars before returning your attention to the Shadowsinger who was already offering you his.

“It’s nice to see you again, Y/N.” He said politely.

You wondered if he’d remembered your name from your first and last encounter almost a year ago, or if when Cassian sent word for aid he’d reminded him of it.

Either way, you offered a timid smile. “You too, Azriel. I apologise for troubling you with this. All of you.”

He shook your apology off. “It’s no bother. Are you hurt anywhere?”

You knew he wasn’t referring to bruises and cuts you already adorned. It seemed as though stepping through that veil gave you more clarity, more understanding of silent thoughts and everything else around you.

You shook your head. “No.”

“Good.” He nodded, and those shadows threatened to reach for your ankles again.

Azriel didn’t pull them back this time, only took a tentative step closer. “I apologise, they’re no threat. Not to you.”

You nodded, gaze upon them as they slinked further up your body and wrapped softly around your arms. Azriel almost bristled at the way you remained so calm. He wondered how much about him and his family you knew. He supposed Nesta had told you much through letters and such.

You didn’t reply, couldn’t bring yourself. You knew how deadly the Inner Circle could be to their enemies. And yet these shadows touched you with more softness than your husband ever did. You didn’t let that thought show on your face.

“Everything feels different on this side of the wall,” you admitted, a little breathless.

Azriel remained looking at you. “Everything feels…clearer.”

You waved the shadows off your body gently, silently shooing them back to their master.

“I’ll need to fly you like Cassian did to Nesta,” he began. “Are you afraid of heights?”

You didn’t know the answer to that. But the thought of being held by him the same way Nesta was by Cassian… that thought scared you. And not because it was Azriel, but because of the sheer closeness and intimacy that was needed for it.

You swallowed it down. “No… I don’t think so.”

He nodded, taking another step closer with an outstretched hand. “You can close your eyes if you wish, and I’ll fly slowly, I swear.”

You heard it then, the pattering of paws on the grass, of claws digging into the soil and snarls of breath into the night. You looked to Azriel, eyes a little wilder than before. He nodded, as if he already knew what you were about to say.

He held out his hand further for you to take, and you took a hold of his marred skin, calloused under your softer palm but you didn’t balk, didn’t pull away as you got a clearer view of the scars that adorned him.

Azriel hoisted you into his arms, cradling you to his chest. “The take off will be harsh, make sure you hold on tight to me.”

And he wasn’t lying. Azriel bent his knees and shoved his full weight into the earth before you both shot into the starlit skies. You didn’t close your eyes, you wanted to see everything this world had to offer. A world that was always at your fingertips but never accessible until now.

The wind seemed to whisper to you, gently caressing your bruised skin and promising a better life. A new life. As though the elements welcomed you home. 

It was only moments of uphill force until Azriel evened out and began a steady speed through the clouds. His scent enveloped you, almost overbearing as it encompassed all of your senses.

You worried for a moment then. If his scent surrounded you this way, you wondered how badly yours did to him with such heightened senses. You tried to hold your breath for longer than usual, tried to steady your heartbeat, afraid he’d hear it.

“Are you okay?” He murmured against the shell of your ear. Because even though you tried to mask it, he could sense your every feeling, your every tremor and sigh and sob.

Tears streamed down your face as he flew you both north toward the border between Autumn and Winter.

“Thank you, Azriel.” And you thanked him and thanked him and thanked him. Until your voice grew hoarse from the sobs and you let yourself realise that you were finally free.

Finally safe. 

In the transitioning week of being escorted to the Night Court, you had hardly spoken to a soul. For the first two days, you appreciated the silence, the safety–basked in it, even. Nesta had shown you to your room in the House of Wind, an incredible home built into the walls of a large mountain that overlooked the city of Velaris. 

“Should you need anything,” Nesta had said softly, “ask the House, it listens.” 

And she had been right. The first night, you thought of a hot bubble bath and a gentle breeze had sifted through your sheer curtains, guiding you to your personal bathing chambers where a hot bath had been drawn, scents of calming lavender and jasmine coating you. 

You only saw Nesta twice after that, once when she brought you some of her favourite romance books and again, two days later when she told you Feyre and Elain sent their love and well wishes. 

She’d had the family's healer, Majda, check you over for any untreated injuries, and when she came up short she offered you a few tonics for the discomfort and encouraged you to rest before sending you back on your way.

You shouldn’t have expected more, shouldn’t have longed for more. You supposed Nesta had done her part enough–saving you from Rafe and bringing you here. And yet, despite the House tending to your needs and the souls of the romance novels…you felt just as alone as you had in the mortal lands. 

You hadn’t seen Azriel since either, nor Cassian. You didn’t have much right to ask after them, to thank them again. They had their own lives and roles to fill, you knew your rescue had been nothing more than another third-grade mission to them. 

By the fifth day, the realisation had begun to sink in. That you’d been moved from one lonely home into another. Perhaps that was the course your life was fated to take–alone, unnoticed, nothing more than a ghost in the wind, nothing worth acknowledging. 

You wrote your thoughts into your leather-bound journal, the only form of release you had for these dark emotions. Yet every time the pen lifted from the parchment, you felt heavier than you had before. 

You were yet to leave your bedroom, often sitting at the window seat that overlooked the lights of the city, wondering what life awaited down there. Wondered if you’d ever get the opportunity to explore it. Nesta had mentioned that the House was warded from winnowing, the only way out was to fly or descend the ten thousand stairs. 

But you couldn’t fly, and you wouldn’t make the steps down either. You weren’t a prisoner, you knew that. But Nesta had done her part, saving you, bringing you to her and Cassian’s home. You were not her responsibility, not anyones. 

Yet, you couldn’t help but feel trapped, restricted. Moved from one stone building and into another. Perhaps that was what finally made you venture out of your room, barefeet padding across the cool floors.

You followed the winding staircase to a lower level, noting the ornate furniture that decorated the large space. A crackling hearth caught your attention, so inviting and warm in front of a plush couch. The House seemed to beckon you to it, a gentle breeze against the backs of your bare legs and it made your short nightgown sway. 

Following it, you sat on the couch and a thick blanket materialised and draped itself over your legs at the same time a steaming mug of tea and a new romance novel appeared on the table beside you. 

You smiled softly, warmth spreading in your chest as you thanked the House. 

An hour or so had passed, not that you were for certain, but the House remained silent. Nothing but sips of your tea and flipping of pages could be heard along with the crackling of the hearth. 

For a moment, you felt at peace in your own company. Completely content for this time to sit and read and know you wouldn’t receive a beating or worse for it. You stretched out your back, stifling a yawn as a pair of soft footsteps greeted your ears. 

Your eyes widened, an unnecessary apology already on the tip of your tongue, though for what you weren’t sure. That had become the norm for you, apologising for your every breath. 

But it was not Rafe that stepped out of the shadows, of course not. It was Azriel, in all his glory, wings tucked neatly behind his back and you counted the seven blue siphons that adorned his leathers. 

“Azriel,” you breathed, a sheepish smile on your face. 

Finally, some company. Someone to acknowledge your presence and to perhaps converse with. You shuffled on the couch, making to put your book down but all Azriel did was give you a terse nod in greeting and a thin smile before walking down the hall and out of your sight. 

It shouldn’t have hurt as much as it did. You should be used to this by now. You were used to it. But you couldn’t control that tiny thread of hope in your chest that things could be different. That you could be accepted and wanted and noticed. 

For the eighth night in a row, you were left in the dark with nothing but the crippling loneliness and aching of your soul to keep you company. 

A/N: Thank you for reading!! This is the first instalment of this mini-series that I literally got the idea for two days ago lol. It'll be around 5/6 parts, smut will come and a few twists you won't expect!! Unfortunately I'm unable to get my old page back (rhysazriel), which means most of my previous writings have been lost but I'll likely repost the ones I have saved in my google docs in the late future (plug!az being one of them.)

If you enjoyed it, please consider giving it a like and reblog, your feedback is always appreciated!! <3

[heritageposts]

By Ahmad Ibsais, First generation Palestinian American and law student.

I do not blame Benjamin Netanyahu. I do not blame the Israeli prime minister for what is happening to my people. I do not blame him today, as Israeli bombs destroy every corner of Gaza, and children die under the rubble. I did not blame him back in 2013, when I had to watch the slaughter of my people in Gaza on the evening news, either. My mother did not blame him when snipers perched on rooftops shot at her as she tried to make her way to work in the West Bank. My grandfather, God rest his soul, did not blame him as he died without ever returning to the land settlers stole from him in the 1980s, either. For me, for my family, for my people, what we are witnessing in Palestine today is not “Netanyahu’s war”. It is not his occupation. He is nothing but another cog in the relentless war machine that is Israel. Yet if you were to ask senators Bernie Sanders or Elizabeth Warren, the supposed champions of Palestinian rights and progressive humanitarianism in the United States, everything that has happened to us in the past 75 years, and everything that is happening to us today, can be blamed on one man, and one man alone: Netanyahu. Sanders insistently calls the ongoing Israeli assault on Gaza “Netanyahu’s war”, and demands that the US “not give Netanyahu another nickel”. Meanwhile, Warren denounces “Netanyahu’s failed leadership” as she calls for a ceasefire. For these progressive senators, the cause of all the pain and suffering in Palestine is clear: a far-right, hawkish prime minister hell-bent on continuing a conflict that keeps him in power. Sure, Netanyahu is evil. Sure, he committed countless crimes against Palestinians and against humanity, throughout his long career. Sure, he is continuing to fuel the carnage in Gaza today in part for his own political survival. And he should be held accountable for everything he has said and done that caused harm and pain to my people. But the racism, extremism and genocidal intent that is on display in Gaza and across the occupied Palestinian territory today cannot and should not be blamed on Netanyahu alone. Blaming Israel’s blatant human rights abuses, disregard for international law, and open celebration of war crimes on Netanyahu alone is nothing but a coping mechanism for liberals like Sanders and Warren. By blaming Netanyahu for the suffering and oppression of the Palestinian people, past and present, they keep alive the lie that Israel was built on progressive ideals, rather than ethnic cleansing. By blaming Netanyahu, they whitewash their seemingly unconditional support for a state blatantly committing war crimes and crimes against humanity. By blaming Netanyahu, and casting Israel as a progressive, well-meaning state that would respect international humanitarian law but is currently taken over by a bad leader, they are absolving themselves – and the US at large – of complicity in Israel’s many war crimes.

. . . continues on Al Jazeera (7 Mar 2024)

[dilf-docs]

Le Pedí Al Mar Y Al Sol Que Te Trajera

pedro pascal x younger fem!reader

summary: vacations are supposed to be fun! and with a hot older famous boyfriend? now we're really talking.

warnings: 18+ (minors dni), age gap (yum), pwp, p. in v., fingering, pussy spanking (ooc i'm sorry i just want a man to do this to me), creampie, virgin!reader (sorry if this is kinda unrealistic for a first as i too i'm a virgin; in the curb we all fam), aftercare, spanglish ofc!!!

word count: 2,865 words

side note: so, i modified the request a bit bc idk pedro's friends like that (i just know omar apollo can tower over me wait what). check the og request here. reqs still open as we enter 2025! happy new year, dilf town citizens: pushed this drabble last minute as a lil' gift for you before the year ends! :) thank u sm for being part of it, my journey on tumblr is just getting started!!!!!!!!!!

Hace tiempo que quería yo sentir esto que siento.

They say dating a star and having to share him with everybody else is the hardest part, but to you, it's having both of your vacations occur simultaneously.

Finally, after months of shooting so many projects for the next year, your boyfriend is free.

Vacations are fun! They're supposed to be relaxing, especially after leading such a busy life as yours: juggling between work, studies and a relationship with world-renowned actor, Pedro Pascal. Yet, you can't help but feel nervous, fiddling with the loose strands of your skirt.

Pedro wants you to go alone, which means just the both of you: a little escape before Christmas Eve, as he and his friends have already planned their holiday together.

Doesn't matter how many times you tried to excuse yourself, he was determined to make you go with him. Besides, let's get real: it's not like you can say no to him. So now here he is, both of your passports in hand as you both are ready to board your plane to Mexico, where the rest of his friends will meet you a week later. Yes, more nerves to add on the schedule.

"If you don't quit that shaking of yours, I'll extend our vacation two more weeks" Pedro threatens once you're seated, but it's devoid of any malice. He's a bit far from you (he also insisted on the VIP flying part; you're just fine flying tourist, but can understand why he isn't), so you can't count on his touch to comfort you. "Didn't know you were afraid of planes"

You sigh, "I'm not"

"Ay, cariño. Are you afraid of me then?"

"No" you laugh nervously. You are, but not for the reasons he thinks.

It's the very first time the two of you will be fully alone. For obvious reasons, a whole week at the beach is much more intimate than just the dates you've been in. But here you are, already seeing the sand and water beneath you.

"Like what you see?" he jokes.

"Yeah" you look back at him, sincerity washing over the expression on your face. "I do"

If there is one thing you're sure of, is your love for Pedro. You'll just have to wait and see how this goes.

As of now, everything has gone well: sun, water, diving and lots of new photos and videos on your camera roll. You've gone swimming and danced on the bar of the hotel you're staying, some extra drinks on your system. You've also sunbathed under the same sun you've watched go down, in the most beautiful sunsets you've ever seen in your life.

But here comes the hardest part: the night. Sharing a bed isn't hard: it's something that's happened before, one time even staying in his house for two days, all because he insisted.

This time is different: the way his gaze lingers over your bare legs, the same way he's looked at them when the droplets of water slide down them. The way he licks his lips, like he's starving and the most deliciously tempting meal stands before him. Mantaining eye contact like it's some kind of dare, just as he's done since you've landed, using it to disarm you little by little.

You don't think you can't take it anymore.

You lay down on the bed, and he leaves the book he's reading on the night table next to him, all his attention directed towards you. Yeah, you're afraid, he can sense, but apparently not that afraid to wear a dainty nightwear that gives a delicious peek of your breasts.

"Something you want to say?" you ask, almost daringly so.

"Say no" voice low, barely a whisper that could come across a breeze of wind entering through the open window as it stirs the courtains. "Want, yes"

You gulp. "What do you want, then?"

Shouldn't taken the bait.

"You" comes quick, like it's the easiest answer there ever is.

The rest of his answer comes in the form of hungry lips capturing yours, devouring them in a clash of desire against your own, even struggling to breath due to the animalistic borderline savage way Pedro's eating you out, his tongue battling inside your mouth while trying to explore every corner just to taste all of you on his palate.

"Pedro" you moan his name out when he bites your lip with a bit too much force, metallic filling your taste buds. It's all so hot, and you're too turned on to think.

His roaming hands itch to touch every available spot of soft skin your body offers, tracing first through your collarbones, and then leaving the task for his lips to complete. There goes a trail of kisses that go down your neck, teeth nibbling the sensitive skin until it turns red. You whine against his hold, big hands keeping you under him, back pushed against the soft mattress and silk sheets.

You gasp for air, lost in the fire, when suddenly his forgotten hands touch you down there.

"Wait!" you shout, mentally slapping yourself.

"¿Qué pasó?" he exclaims, scared. "Did I hurt you?"

"N-no" you're quick to deny, voice wavering as you seat up on the bed. Your cheeks soon flush, as there's regret when you say. "I'm sorry"

"Sorry for what?" he tenderly cups your cheek. "Just tell me what happened"

"What happened is, I fucked up the vibe. I'm sorry, P. Didn't mean to stop you like that"

"¿No te estaba gustando, cariño?" he's questioning again.

"No" your answer is more firmly this time. His face morphs into a bit of hurt, and then you think your answer a bit more. "Ah, no. I mean, yes! I was liking it. I meant no as in no, it's not that why I stopped you"

"Then, why is it?" he grows a little impatient, but shows no such thing, rather focused on helping you out. "You know you can trust me, right?"

"I know" you smile sadly, insecurities washing over you like cold water.

"Then, tell me" he scoots closer, his perfume getting in your nostrils. Had he wore it again for this? God, what an evil little horny creature.

"I'm scared" you confess finally, the warmth of his receptiveness giving you a sense of security. His brown eyes soften, and you feel tears brim in the corner of your eyes.

"I know" he repeats your words, kissing you softheartedly, nothing compared to as before.

"No" you look directly at him, ready to take in every reaction his face will have. "I don't think you do"

"Amor, por favor-"

"I'm a virgin" you cut him off, panic rushing your answer.

"You are?" almost immediatly, giving no opportunity for silence to settle in.

You nod, slowly.

He sighs, sounding relieved. "And here I thought you didn't love me. Que te daba asco acostarte con un viejo como yo"

"No!" you deny hastily, then laugh. "Of course I love you, P. On the contrary, I was the one scared. Don't want to fuck it up on my first"

The energy changes again, as a flame sparks within your orbs. He looks surprised.

"Just because I said-" he cuts himself off. "Look, y/n, mi vida. I don't want to force you, yeah? I didn't know you hadn't- Listen, if you aren't ready, I'll understand"

"I am ready" clear and convinced, without a doubt.

His eyes circle between lust and love, "You want me to be your first, mmh baby?"

You nod, and he's back at the kissing and nibbling on your neck and collarbones.

"Please say it"

"I want you, Pedro. Quiero que seas mi primera vez"

Those sweet words of yours, an invitation not even the strongest man could deny.

"Let's start slow, yeah?" his fingers travel down to your panties under the nightwear, removing them and tossing them out of the bed, even with your pout. He kisses it off, wasting no time after to see your clit exposed. "Looking so sweet, angel. And needy" he gets closer, taking a better look at the wet mess that coats in between your thighs. He takes a whiff, intoxicated with the smell of your arousal dripping in waiting need. "Tell me if this is okay, yeah? I'll stop if it hurts"

Your breath hitches the moment his middle finger touches your puffy clit. Pedro runs his finger up and down, not adding much pressure to let you get used to it (kissing and eating each other out was all you had ever done). You whimper at the feeling as he repeats his action a few more times.

"Please, keep going" you plead, barely managing to not squirm at the overwhelming new sensations that shoot right through your cunt.

He begins to rub slow circles, making sure to add the right pressure onto your clit, then circling it, all while keeping eye contact, adoring the new expressions and sounds he's getting from you. You realize and shy away, embarrassed all of the sudden at the way he looks at you.

"Don't" he holds you by your chin with his free hand, "I want to know how you look when I please you"

You whimper, letting him do his own thing. He starts leaving sweet little kisses around your quivering pussy, enjoying the sight of your hole clenching at nothing.

"Think you can take more?" he asks, "want more?"

Two of his fingers dive straight in between your folds, coating them with your juices.

"Good girl" he praises when you only yelp, savouring the new feel of his digits inside of you. Then, he drags his fingers back to his mouth, tongue licking them clean. "Taste so sweet too"

"N-need more" you whine, desperate beneath him.

"Yeah?" This your first and you're already this greedy? I think I can get used to it" he laughs in adoration. "Let's try something better, yeah?"

Your body suddenly jolts, his big palm flat against your pussy. Pedro circles his whole palm across your cunt, middle finger pressing tightly onto it. You moan, back arching at the overstimulation.

He feels a little pervy, enjoying the way your tiny young body squirms beneath his caging body for of him. Nonetheless, he continues to rub you while you release more dirty sounds cascading out fo your filthy greedy lips. Your arousal keeps dripping like a broken pipeline, now smeared all over Pedro's palm, filling the room with slippery sounds.

"Mhm" you can't even speak, the exquisite combination of pain and pleasure reducing you to a moaning mess.

Pedro slaps your pussy twice, wet smacks bouncing off the walls.

"That's my girl" he then gently blows on your swollen bud, pressing a light kiss on it after. "Ready for it?"

It meaning his hard tent hidden under his underwear. You gulp, afraid you might not take it. He sees the hesitation in your eyes, but you're quick to dissmiss it.

"Are you sure you are ready?"

"Just do it" you demand, without knowing the consequences of your words, or the effect you have on him. Overall.

With needy fingers, you're fast to strip him out of it, admiring the size as much as you admire his now sculpted body. Jesus, you could build a cult out of it.

"Now" he cups your cheeks, fingers digging onto the skin, "I want you to look at me when I fuck you, yes? Don't dare to look away"

Pedro positions himself between your legs, aligning himself with your entrance. Then, he thrust inside you, filling you completely. You cry, trying to adjust to his size while your nails dig on his broad back, as he claims you, makes you his. Only his. Pedro'hi's hips snap forward with precision: every thrust is deliberate, each movement calculated to make your first as pleasurable as he can, despite the pain that's shown in your tears or the little drops of blood that fall onto the sheets.

"Shit" he pants, "tendremos que pagar por eso"

He grips your thighs, holding you steady as he pounds into you.

"Fuck, you feel so good" he moans, your tight untouched walls now stretching to adapt to his girth, "like you were made for me"

You cling to him, legs wrapping around his waist as he firmly holds you. Your vision goes foggy, mind numb at the burning and pleasing sensations. Despite that and lack of experience, you meet his every thrust, your bodies moving as one.

Your core contracts around him with every motion. "You fuck me so good" you mewl, music to his ears.

"I know, baby" he chuckles, "sólo lo mejor para mi princesa"

Fingers dig into your skin as he guides you with precision, right as he wants you to be. You feel the intensity of his deep inside of you with every movement, his hot laboured breath against your ear.

"Doing it so good" his voice is low, almost a growl, sending shivers down your spine. "Just for me"

"Just for you" you mindlessly pant out, the sensation of having all of him inside you, nothing separating the skin from skin, igniting a fire that spreads through your core. Your breasts bounce with each motion, Pedro's eyes never leaving yours, dark orbs locked onto your gaze as you urge him to go faster, drawing in a sharp breath as your body adjusts to the new rhythm he's providing, rapidly obeying.

The room is quiet except for the sound of your bodies clashing onto one another, flesh against flesh echoing softly.

"Your body is perfect, so wet, so tight for me" His words send a wave of pleasure crashing over you, making you moan loudly, your head falling back, "me tienes loco"

Pedro's weight grounds you as he begins to thrust deeply, each movement deliberate and unrelenting.

"Tell me you want this, us" the words catch you off guard. "Will you take all of me?"

"Yes" without a thought or doubt, answering as you whine and clutch at his shoulders with his more urgent thrusts. "All of you, always"

You notice his hips snapping forward, more energy as he pounts into you. "Good girl" praising you again, voice thick in arousal and rough, "so good for me"

Despite being your first, you can feel what would be your orgasm building, closer and closer until there is no holding it back.

"Pedro!" you scream his name, body collapsing around him as you come, stars reaching your closed eyelids.

His movements become more intense and sloppier, breathing ragged as he chases his own release.

"Espérame. Stay there for me"

You cling to him, legs wrapping tighter as he continues to pound into you. "Ya casi" his thrusts become erratic as he nears his climax, "almost there, baby"

You feel his body tensing as he comes inside you with a deep groan, seed spilling into you without wasting a drop.

"That's right" whispers against your sweet neck roughly, voice breaking as he collapses over you, trying to level his breathing. "Eres mía, only mine"

You're whimpering, body exhausted from the whole session you had.

"You okay?"

"Yeah. Just tired" you sigh, "but I don't think I can walk"

"We'll get you a wheelchair someway" he jokes.

"You think is funny? Ruining my holidays?"

He leans down to press a sweet kiss on your forehead. "Come on, we'll get you cleaned up" you mumble out a tired no, but Pedro's picking you up with his strong arms, taking your body to the bathroom. You wrap your legs instinctively around his waist, face hidden in the crook of his neck.

"You know what? Your fans were right: you do have a slutty little waist" you mock.

"Right" he blushes, embarrased as he takes you inside the bathroom, then placing you on top of the toilet. "Open up, baby" he grabs some tissues, trying to clean up the mess you've made between your legs. "Así, justo así, bebé" he parts your hair to the side lovingly, fixing it for you before pressing a kiss on the crown of your head. "Done, my pretty baby, look at you"

You hum, eyes threatening to close.

"I see you're not an after-sex talker. Come on, I'll take you back to bed" he picks you up again, your head leaning against Pedro's V line as he caresses your head. "Hope you don't mind the smell"

"I love how you smell" you mumble out in a drunk like state.

"Okay then" he chuckles, "let's go back to bed" taking you out of the room, gently placing you the mattress. He then pulls a pair of fresh panties from your suitcase, dressing you in them. He coos at the sight of you, sleeping peacefully despite what you did before.

He finally lays next to you, lovingly lifting up your arm to put it around his waist. He pulls the sheets over your bodies to keep you both warm, in the chilly room thanks to the beach's air.

He feels you move, snuggling closer to his chest to seek warmth.

"I love you" whispered, not expecting you to answer or hear it.

When you snuggle closer, he's sure you do.

cr: divider @kodaswrld / gif @a7estrellas

[mediumgayitalian]

“Don’t worry, Kayla. I got him.”

It’s the first thing that registers in a long time. It’s also the only thing that registers a split second before a hand grips his collar and he is dragged, bodily, out of the infirmary, bumping down the stairs like luggage.

“Is that all I am to you?” Will asks, bereft. “Luggage?”

“You’re losing your mind again,” Nico says. “Intervention time.”

“I am — just fine, thank you kindly! I was in the middle of sorting the medicine cabinet by colour and vibe. Let me go.”

“There’s something wrong with you. Mentally.”

“How rude.”

Nico snorts, but does not relinquish his hold. Will gives up squirming and sighs, allowing himself to be dragged.

It’s kind of nice, he supposes. Nico is careful to avoid most of the rocks and the sky is kind of pretty from this angle. Ideally he’d be, like, walking, but dragged along is alright. It’s better than last time. The whole princess carry thing was humiliating and if someone does that to him again he’s channeling the power of the sun and exploding himself and everyone around him.

“That is not an actual power that you have, William.”

“Shows what you know.”

“I’m gonna start calling you Hiroshima.”

“Go for it. Guess who’ll look like the insane one in that scenario?”

Nico laughs, because he thinks Will is funny, even though he will not admit it. Will knows so because that’s how he bagged the camp’s baddest bitch. Twas most certainly not his swordfighting skills or poetry, that is for certain.

(Not that it had stopped him from trying. Honestly, Nico may have agreed to go out with him for the sole intent of stopping the poetry.)

(But he’s stuck now, so there.)

“Here.” Nico deposits him unceremoniously on the floor. Will lands with an exaggerated oof. “Eat something or I’m stuffing you into an onager and launching you to Mars.” He glances up at the sky. “The planet, not the deity.”

“Figured,” Will wheezes, rubbing his shoulder blades. Why must he always land painfully. Why is he punished merely for existing. “What’s this?”

Nico, refusing to answer verbally, spreads his arms. Will uses his working eyeballs to determine ‘this’ is a soft blanket that is 100% stolen directly from the Aphrodite cabin, spread carefully over the grass of the nicest clearing in the woods. ‘This’ is a picnic basket full of what Will assumes is Twizzlers, if Nico loves him.

“Tis not,” Nico promises. “I brought you vegetables and whole grains and all the other bullshit you harp about me eating, you massive hypocrite.”

‘This’, Will notices, ignoring him, is a folded letter with his name on it and a portable radio playing the nearest country station.

Next time you overwork yourself I’m knocking you unconscious and chaining you to your bed for three days, reads the note. Make better choices, you dickbrain.

“Charming,” Will says. He presses the letter to his chest and pretends to swoon. Nico lets him fall and bang his skull on the ground, but Will internalizes the pain and commits to the bit like a real man. “My very own Romeo, taking care of me so well. Oh, my heart, my heart.”

“You are the most annoying person alive.”

“And yet you’re obsessed with me.”

Nico cracks a smile. “Yes,” he admits. “Not quite sure how that one happened.”

Nico looks at him with dark brown eyes and slightly raised brows and it is charming, genuinely, and Will goes a little pink, admittedly, because his smile is crooked and teasing and there is something handsome and a little tiny bit mean about it and maybe Will likes that. A little. And maybe Nico knows that and snickers and mutters get over here, airhead and tugs him until his head is in his lap and sticks his hands in his tangled hair and yeah, Will likes it a little. A lot.

“You know, you’re kind of an alright person,” Will says.

“That was almost a compliment.”

“Mhm. I might even like you.”

“Shocking.”

Will grins. Nico rolls his eyes and leans down to kiss him, biting the tip of his nose on the way down, and there is a coil in Will’s belly and it feels a little like heat and a little like warmth. A little like someone taking care of him.

“I threatened the camp,” Nico says conversationally. “We have the next three point seventeen hours to ourselves, lest I sacrifice three teenagers to Thanatos.”

“Sensible.”

“I thought so.”

“Anyone told you you’re kinda hot when you’re a little evil?”

“Yeah. I hear it a lot, actually.”

“Good, good. Glad you’re aware.”

They look at each other for one point two seconds and burst out laughing, and it is stupid, and it is quiet, and it is a bubble growing and growing in the pit of Will’s chest.

He breathes. He leans a little farther into Nico’s lap, and smile. He grips their hands together.

It’s kinda nice to be got.

———

based on this drawing by @skysmadness

[seravphs]

ੈ♡˳·˖✶ — ASTRONAUT! GOJO x MISSION CONTROL! FEM READER

Your job description entails taking care of one (1) astronaut on his way to Mars. It doesn’t say anything about falling in love with him. 

wc — 1.6k

tags — the beauty of space (and Gojo Satoru), rom com, fluff

When you’re assigned to Gojo Satoru, the first thing you hear is ‘good luck’. It’s Nanami who says it. You suppose he would have strong feelings, being one of the few men who were going up there with him. 

They’re in the news constantly now. Of course they would be - brave pioneers of the new frontier. The first men to attempt a Mars landing.

Even for you, who sees them every day, it’s hard not to get caught up in the mythos of it. Glory burns bright and beautiful around them, a halo born of the knowledge that they’ll someday be in history books. Maybe you’ll be there too, a footnote riding on the coattails of their fame. 

They take care of humanity’s future, and you take care of them. Mission Control doesn’t have the esteem the astronauts do, but your jobs are just as important. You’re proud of the work you do. 

Though sometimes, your work is just silly. He is, anyway. 

“Helloooooo? Mission Control, come in.” 

“You’re not supposed to use the main line for personal matters, Satoru,” you remind him, a smile twitching at your lips. Director Utahime thinks you’re too soft on him, but you can’t help it. It must be terrible to be stuck up there for months, even if he says he loves it. 

You’ve seen his interviews. Gojo Satoru, golden boy of the astrophysics department at one of the most prestigious universities in the world. A prodigy, the youngest ever Nobel laureate for his work in quantum particles and space time. 

When he first declared that he would be going on the Mars mission, the world erupted in an uproar. He had transformed an esoteric field of dusty archives and chalk formulas into something real people cared about and tuned into his radio show to hear, even if it originally started because people loved his charming face. 

It was too risky. No one wanted to lose such a young talent to the vast and uncaring cruelty of space. 

Gojo heard these concerns, shut down his radio show, and appeared outside headquarters the next day without an appointment.  

Some say he’s pushy. Some say he’s determined. Whatever they think, one thing is true. Gojo Satoru gets results, which is why administration always lets things slide when it comes to him. Even when he clutters up the main communication line trying to talk to you. 

“If you wanted to get me alone, you could just say so,” he jokes, before he switches over to your private comm. 

“Mhm,” you hum. You’re distracted, doing your daily check on his vitals. 

“Looking at my heart again?” 

“Yep! All good, though I’m going to ask you to take a double dose of vitamin c tomorrow.” 

“Come on,” he moans. “They’re terrible. You’d think with all the scientists we have they’d manage to make it taste a little more like actual oranges.” 

“You know how hard it is to make things that last in space,” you tell him. 

The thing about Gojo’s genius is that it’s hard for him to understand others. He can do anything if he puts his mind to it, so hearing ‘no’ and ‘it’s impossible’ simply doesn’t compute to him. It’s why he started his radio show, or so he told you. He dreams of teaching people to see the world through his eyes. 

His beautiful eyes. 

Your cheeks heat. That’s not something you should be thinking about, but lately, it’s been getting harder and harder. You spent almost all your time with him, after all. 

As much as you try to be professional, you’re not immune to his stunning beauty. You know the voice on the other end of the line belongs to an man whose features are nothing short of otherworldly. He could be a model if he wasn’t an astronaut. He could be anything, actually, but you know why he chose this. 

The first time you heard Gojo speak on space, you fell in love a little bit. With him and with the cosmos. 

He’s the one who teaches you that the stars we see are already dead and gone. That light and time are intertwined in ways you didn’t understand before, that the little pinpricks of gold in the distance have fizzled out years ago and are reaching you now only as a eulogy. 

You tuned into his radio show on a whim, wanting to get to know the man you’ll be working with better. You stayed because his love for the universe is magnetic. 

Gojo’s favorite thing about space is infinity. He was a proud supporter of the alien theory. There had to be some life out there, in that great vastness. Anything is possible in space, he says. There might even be a planet where he can float or unleash devastating destruction with just a flick of his fingers. 

Before long, you were listening to his voice explain worm holes and cosmic inflation any spare moment you got. He was with you on the commute to work and in the shower while you scrubbed your hair. It was Gojo’s voice that lulled you to sleep every night, slow and relaxing in his special bedtime series. 

So you’d known him long before you met him. In your first real interaction, where he was so quintessentially Gojo in a way that completely put Utahime off, you laughed. His eyes widened, surprised by your reaction, then his lips split in a toothy smile. 

“At least one of you has a sense of humor,” he quipped, making a lifelong enemy of Utahime and a lifelong friend of you. 

You’re the only one who can put up with him, so when Gojo had been chosen for Project Ares, you landed an adjacent job as his handler in Mission Control. You’d known you’d work on Project Ares for a while now, but not that you’d be working so closely with him, or that it would feel so right. 

Of course you would be his handler. It was as natural as Gojo becoming an astronaut, which you’d always known he’d manage. It’s Gojo, after all. He would go change the future of humanity, and you’d keep him tethered to Earth. 

It had been a relatively easy few years, for a space mission anyway. Anything short of death was considered optimal in those conditions. You hadn’t realized you’d miss him like this, however. All this time, and so much of it was only his voice. In a way, it was reminiscent of the days before you’d met, hearing a beautiful mind work through the radio. 

“Oh, Houston?” Gojo calls through the line, singsong. “We have a problem.” 

His lighthearted tone doesn’t deceive you. You’re up in a second. 

“Satoru? Satoru? Come on, talk to me. What is it? You okay up there?” 

“I’m experiencing heart pains,” he says, letting out a low grunt of pain. “Palpitations.” 

Your blood runs cold. 

Space is Gojo’s passion. You’re happy he gets to pursue it. But in these moments, you wish he’d never heard of astrophysics because in space, you can’t reach him. If he gets hurt, all you can do is talk to him. 

He’s said he appreciates it. 

“It’s nice, you know? Gives me something to listen to other than the voices already in my head.” 

“Should I schedule a virtual visit to the psychiatrist, Satoru?” 

You joke around, but you know that’s all you can be for him. A voice in his helmet. 

Your hands are creeping towards the switch that’ll open your communication line to Nanami. At least if something happens, Nanami can actually get to him. 

“Fuck,” Gojo whispers. You freeze. You’ve never heard him talk like this, his voice low and raspy with pain. “It hurts.” 

“Tell me where it hurts, honey,” you murmur back, your voice instinctively lowering into something syrupy and sweet. Comfort comes naturally to you. You’ve always been a doting personality. It’s part of why they chose you for this assignment, other than, as you learn later, Gojo’s insistence that you be his line to Earth. “It’s going to be okay.” 

“It aches, sort of?” Gojo says. “Happens when I hear- ugh.”

“Hear? Hear what? If you can’t tell me, I can’t help you, sweetheart.” You have no idea where these pet names are coming from, but they just burst out of your mouth, as if tenderness for him is uncontrollable. Is it because you’re scared it’ll end like this? The chance of whatever you feel for him dying unspoken terrifies you. You wish you’d told him sooner. 

“Happens when I hear your voice,” he says. Is that nervousness you detect in his voice? 

Suddenly you have a very clear idea of what he’s playing at. 

“Satoru,” you say very calmly. “If you don’t tell me what’s going on, I’m going to call Nanami and you can explain it to him.” 

A flurry of panicked noises on the other end. “No, wait, no, don’t do that! I can explain. Just. Give me a second.” 

Ragged breathing. 

“Okay,” he admits. “I didn’t think this through.”

“Satoru.” 

“I’m sorry! You know how I am!” 

You do. Which is why you’re not immediately calling Utahime over to reprimand him. 

“I was going to wait,” he says. “This isn’t very romantic.” 

“I would say that’s more because I thought you were going to die from a heart attack in space than anything else, but go on.” 

“Sorry,” he says. “I love you.”

You were half-expecting it. After all, he’s right - you do know him. Somehow his straightforwardness still catches you off guard so badly your knee jerks and slams right into your desk. It’ll leave a nasty bruise when you check in the shower later. Most things are too soft to be picked up by your mic, but that was definitely loud enough. 

“…You okay?” Gojo asks, hesitantly. 

“When you come back to Earth,” you explain to him in clipped tones, “I am going to gut you. Then we are going to go on a date.” 

[baestruly]

your hands in mine ━━ marinat

( 𝗌𝗒𝗇𝗈𝗉𝗌𝗂𝗌 )  natalie scatorccio x mari ibarra

.˚ ᡣ𐭩 after the yellowjackets are rescued, natalie turns to mari for support warnings - fluff, hurt/comfort, post crash, teen timeline, marinat cuteness, bisexual nat and mar wc: 2.8k

It wasn’t real,  none of it was. After endless fights for their lives, Natalie and Mari are on the edge of humanity, struggling to stay sane despite the raging voices in their head, the forest calling to them, trying to control them.

Natalie was fucking done ─── after what she did to Coach Scott, she completely lost it from there. But Mari had, surprisingly , been there for her. The two girls hadn’t talked much before the crash ─── okay, like at all, It was expected. Natalie was punk and kind of a loner, she wasn’t afraid to admit, yet Mari was popular. She had endless friends and was known by almost everyone like Jackie was . 

Natalie wasn’t sure what to do with herself that night, she found herself reminiscing as the girls ─── monsters, that’s what they were ─── sat around the fire, the darkness of the night encircling them in a rage of fire. It was supposed to keep them warm, yet Natalie couldn’t feel colder. 

Mari sat next to her, and she said what she did to was wrong ─── like Natalie needed to hear that more, she knew how much she fucked up, but she also knew it was the right thing to do for the guy she cared about who was struggling. Yes, Mari was disappointed, but she talked to her with such softness that it felt like understanding, awareness ─── to let her know she was there with her, that Natalie wasn’t alone. 

Strangely, it made her feel better.

That’s how Natalie found herself escaping their campground, which was starting to feel more like a prison as the winter crept towards them. She had caught a glimpse of hope ─── after screaming at Misty for destroying the fucking emergency transmitter in the beginning ─── but she had helped her escape ─── while everyone had been sleeping. The sun was going to rise soon anyway, so she’d only have around an hour of darkness to the point of the mountaintop she was headed to. 

She’d called and called and sat there for hours , shivering her skin off, until a man answered and she ran back alerting the team they were going to get rescued. 

In the midst of it all, despite Shauna screaming at everyone, holding people she thought she’d called friends at gunpoint (even Lotte), Natalie caught Mari’s gaze from across the camp, beside Akiliah and Travis. Even Travis’s eyes softened, with a longing for a relationship that was there, but passed ─── just a memory. 

Natalie’s and Mari’s would only begin. Their memories of each other, their talks during the night, started at the end. The end of the traumatizing path in the forest, they could see behind it and start with that fire, crackling in the night as their slow breaths mangled into soft puffs showing in the cold winter breeze.  

No one deep down wanted to board that plane, not after what happened. 

Especially Shauna. 

When rescue arrived, even Lottie had sat Shauna down to talk, wearing the clothes she kept when she landed – a sign of remembrance of the girls they used to be, but couldn’t find again. 

It barely worked, they had to drag her onto the plane , although, at least she had been more fucking willing this time. The craziest thing that’s happened in a while was ignoring the rescue team the first time because of her fucking psycho fad. 

Nothing but the sounds of the plane whooshed through Natalie’s ears, in and out the other ─── like a fever dream. As if no time had passed at all, and Natalie’s blinked and been through it all. 

She’s fucking lived through every deep breath, every drop of blood in the snow, every breakdown, every piece of─── 

She made it, but why her? 

They were leaving a part of their team ─── their team was their joy, their whole life. Natalie’s stomach sinks, as she watches the trees fly behind her, blinded by resentment and disbelief to fully comprehend she’s inches in the air from what would be the start of her nineteen-month dread, in the depths of hell they called the fucking forest . 

Or “it,” whatever that meant. 

The other girl's fists were clenched yet Shauna’s were folded in her lap, looking forward, dead. Her eyes were dead , like instead of half, the Shauna Natalie used to know disappeared. 

Natalie blinked, hands shaking as she quickly looked around, finding Mari and Akilah sitting together two rows behind her. She smiled seeing the two whisper, like they were talking about something important as if anything could be right now. 

The plane just felt empty, and lonely. 

And Natalie counted every fucking second until they landed ─── if they landed.

And they did . 

She’s stepping down from their private plane, onto the hard concrete ─── fuck, she was looking at a building , the airport . 

And more people she’s seen in a group in two years . 

She looked around the crowd, seeing Mari in front of her, she was bawling her eyes out while trying to cover her face from the harsh camera flashes and questions stabbed towards them.

She was squished beside her, and without thinking, she reached for her hand, her heart stopping when the cool touch of Mari’s interlinks with hers. 

Her heart thunders and blocks out every fucking new reporter there was, and if that would do it, maybe she’d hold Mari Ibarra’s hand forever. They were really soft, how could they be so soft?

They returned to school after that ─── college . Everyone was rallying behind on their paths of what they used to want, and Natalie was at the fucking deep end. 

Lottie was the first to be admitted to the mental hospital, and even she didn’t want any visitors. 

Natalie looked at the phone on the wall, it was screaming her name in the room that didn’t feel like hers, the one that held too much nostalgia for a time Natalie wished she could go back to despite how shitty her house had been. 

It didn’t help that Travis hadn’t tried to see or call her ever since they landed either. 

She remembers the soft touch of Mari Ibarra, how her eyes still gleamed with humour and hope despite their situation. How she gave hope to Natalie, talking about her past and everything she wished to do once they got rescued months before the possibility. 

Her support . 

That’s all Natalie needed right now. 

She threw the pack of cigarettes off her nightstand, took one last puff of the cigar she held and threw it out the open window, into the cool fall air. 

Her heart sped up at the thought of winter. 

The phone rang too long for her liking, too long for her sanity. 

“Hello?”

“Oh my god, Mari.” Natalie gasped, almost a whisper, she couldn’t help a relieved smile spread over her lips, someone fucking would talk to her.

“Nat! How are you?” She sounded better. Even though it was dumb to ask, Natalie appreciated her question, biting her cheek as she ruffled her hair, deciding to keep her natural brown. She didn’t want to be the girl she missed, because it would be fake, a lie. 

But she chopped it short the night she got home. 

“I ─── I don’t know.” She sighed into the phone. “The truth is, it’s been shitty. I haven’t gotten into any college yet, and no one’s fucking talking about anything . All I know is any news reporters who asked questions keep hearing the same thing and ─── yeah , it feels so fucking staged, what if───” 

“Nat.” 

Her heart stopped. “Hm?” She hummed.

“Come over to my place.” She spoke hesitantly yet Natalie couldn’t mistake the urge in her voice, for how genuine she was. She spent two years straight with her after all. 

“And where would that be, exactly?” Natalie smirked, leaning against the wall before she moved to her closet, already grabbing her black zip-up hoodie. Something that felt safe .

The question felt weird, but not at the same time. How close the girls became felt thrilling for Natalie, an invitation of unsure proximity between Mari, she wasn’t sure what was going to happen. Would it be awkward seeing her after months? Would it feel like no time passed and Mari could be her lifeline? 

“I live in a dorm now, Eastern International College.” She sighed, stopping for a moment. “I don’t know how I managed, but I think I needed to get out of my house, y’know? A change from everything I used to know.” 

Natalie nodded, as if Mari could see her. “ Yeah , I know.”  

More silence. 

“See you soon?” Mari quickly asked, it felt rushed and Mari’s and Natalie’s nerves flowed through the line. 

Natalie was halfway out of her room. “Wouldn’t miss it, Ibarra.”

Natalie managed to find the dorm rooms around campus, but Mari was waiting for her outside the building. She looked at the girl from the parking lot, dark hair blowing in the wind. It was shiny,  different. But Natalie never found anything wrong before in the wilderness, nothing was ever wrong with her.

That life was a part of them, as much as Natalie wanted to forget.

Natalie slowly smiled as she reached Mari with a wave. The girl jumped up, reminding Natalie of her enthusiasm before the crash, and how friendly and caring she was despite the various rumours that spread about her. Legend told her Mari Ibarra could also be a bitch, when she wanted to. 

She never saw much of that. 

They awkwardly hugged ─── Natalie was paranoid that if Mari could feel her heart racing, why? ─── it was the fact they were face to face in a fucking school like everything was supposed to be, yet nothing belonged at all.

Her dorm was small but cozy. She didn’t have a dorm mate yet, but she told her she wanted to keep it that way. 

“No one wanted to be roomies with me anyway.” Mari sighed, sitting on the edge of her bed raised scarily high off the ground. Sleeping in a bed was the first thing Natalie had to get used to. 

“Fuck ‘em’ then.” Natalie scoffed, looking around at the floral padded blankets and vintage posters scattered along the wall. It reminded her of Jackie’s room when they partied at her house as a team.

She wouldn’t dare let a tear fall. 

Mari looked at her, nodding as she saw her examining her space. “Just tried to make it feel like me, but it doesn’t.” 

Natalie nodded. “I know.” 

Mari chuckled softly to herself. “Honestly, you should just room with me at this point.” 

If Natalie was speechless before, she sure was now. She opened her mouth, about to say something───

“Sorry, jokes ─── um, I don’t know, since you haven’t gotten in anywhere I thought maybe you’d apply or───” 

Natalie smiled teasingly. “Don’t worry, Mar. I know you’d like to see more of me.” 

The girl looked down quickly, stifling a laugh as they snickered. Natalie was intrigued by their vibe and the closeness of the room, like the walls were caving in, bringing them closer. She didn’t even know if Mari had liked any girl before because she’d only ever heard of the crazy rumours about the few guys she’d dated. Everyone made her out to be some sort of slut, it pissed Natalie off. 

They just had to get to know her . 

“Maybe that’s true,” Mari admitted, testing the waters ─── testing Natalie’s reaction, yet her soft smile told her everything she needed. 

Her gaze lingered on Mari’s face, on the faint scar near her temple, the way her lashes fluttered when she looked away like she was flustered from their proximity, which was unusual for the confidence running through her. The winter wind brushed against the dorm window, rattling it lightly, and for the first time in weeks, maybe months, Natalie didn’t feel like she had to say something sharp to fill the silence. 

She just sat in it with her. They didn’t need to speak, each growing minute feeling like a layer of warm blankets stacked on top of her, cozy, warm ─── safe . 

“I don’t even know who I am anymore,” Mari said suddenly, voice low. “It’s like I came back but left someone behind me. I know I was always talking about what I would do if we got back, and I know the world hasn’t changed much but it feels like I've missed decades.”

“Loss can be change,” Natalie replied, rubbing her arm as she went to sit against the wall, rather than on the edge of the bed.  

Mari’s eyes flicked up to meet hers, searching yet unsure ─── hopeful in that way that made Natalie’s breath catch in her throat. Everything clicked, like all those late-night conversations by the fire, the whispered words when they thought the others were asleep ─── it wasn’t nothing . It was never nothing, like how they each individually thought they were. 

“You think she’s still in there?” Mari whispered.

The walls were caving in. 

Natalie scooted a little closer on the bed, letting their knees bump, electricity seeping through her veins ─── it was new, yet exciting. Her fingers brushed over Mari’s again ─── light and gentle, but steady to comfort he

“I think she’s sitting right in front of me.” 

Mari smiled so big, Natalie’s stomach fluttered .

“You can stay here tonight, if y’know, you can’t go back home. Or, until you figure out what you wanna do next?” Mari suggested, not moving her knee against hers. 

Natalie stared at her for a beat, emotions roiling under her skin like wildfire. “And what if I don’t know what’s next?”

Mari’s smile was sad but kind ─── something Natalie recognized too well, through the cracks of her bedroom mirror. “Then we’ll figure it out.”

Natalie breathed out a laugh, shaky. “You really want me as a roommate then, huh?” 

“I want you,” Mari blurted before she could stop herself. Natalie’s cheeks heat. They just breathed unsteadily ─── quiet breaths that mingled in the inches between them, the world narrowing down to the dorm room and the bed. 

Just them. 

“You know,” Mari started slowly. “I used to think about this back then when everything was falling apart.”

Natalie’s eyebrows rose gently, her voice quiet and cracked. “About what?”

She knew god damn what she meant.

Mari’s hand brushed a strand of hair behind Natalie’s ear, fingers trembling just a little. “What it would feel like...if you ever looked at me like this.”

Natalie exhaled, like the weight of it all ─── the forest, the blood, the silence finally slipped off her shoulders.

“I didn’t know if I’d ever get to. I didn’t know if you even saw me at all if you liked girls at all or───” she whispered back. “I didn’t even think I’d get out.”

“But you did,” Natalie whispered, as if she wasn’t in the present like her mind had drifted elsewhere and Natalie didn’t like that it wouldn’t be on her. She too had noticed how gorgeous Mari was, even when they landed. Despite the nineteen months, she somehow stayed gorgeous. 

“I did.” She agreed, voice steady for once, confident now. 

Natalie sees the pools of dark brown hues in her eyes, reflecting through the shady window behind them, like she’s looking into the depths of her soul, searching for any hurt she endured that she could fight, break ───  save her from because she couldn’t save herself. 

Their lips met, soft and hesitant like a question. Natalie grasped the soft curve of her jaw, and like her hands her cheek was softer, melding with her hand as she graced her thumb against it.

Mari kissed back in soft answer, like maybe they could have something after all this, something that wasn’t just trauma bonding or survival or pretending.

The two pulled back, connecting gazes again. It was short and sweet and everything the two imagined tasting on each other’s lips, when they were not covered in grime and dirt and being disgusting in the wilderness. 

So as Natalie breathed, Mari’s floral scent invades all her senses, bringing her into a sweet high she didn’t want to come down from ─── this electricity that formed between them. 

Without question, they slump against Mari’s pillow, standing upright, shoulder to shoulder, Natalie’s head tilting into the crevice where every breath that used to feel like a chore, met with flowers and comfort. 

Mari Ibarra.

“Nat?” Mari asked, so soft, Natalie barely heard it through the vibrations through her chest, inches away from her face. “Do you think we deserve this? To be happy?”

Did they? After everything they went through, everyone who had searched for them in the first few months decided they ‘ didn’t deserve to go as they did. ‘

That’s before everything. They didn’t know shit that happened out there, and what was so fucked up, was the fact that they probably never would. That secret was buried deep in Mari and Natalie’s beating hearts. 

The hearts that could beat for each other, through a bond they developed like no other, entwined of secrets and understanding no other person in the world could match. 

So Mari could hold her hand a little longer, Natalie’s heart thundering through every bad voice scratching her brain. 

Because her hands were so soft. 

Like the people they used to be. 

yellowjackets masterlist

[corvidaes-crow]

ChoiCale Northern Duke AU

Northern duke Cale Henituse with his long hair frosted over and tangling in the winter wind, fur cape thick and warm and pitch black, weighing down his shoulders. Northern duke Cale Henituse who stays shut in his castle unless drowning his lonely sorrows (apparently) and does not care for the people he protects (apparently), but stumbles back through the gates at unholy hours of the night or morning reeking of alcohol, clothes stained through with red in the dim candle light.

Choi Han stumbles onto the lands of the remote duchy after fighting through a thicket of winter demons and a pack of timber wolves that took him as easy prey, and the village welcomes him warmly. They celebrate his presence, because they think he is the one who has guarded their village. It's not strictly wrong, but Choi Han has not been in the Henituse duchy for long enough for his fights to warp into local legend.

He has not flung himself off cliffs to lure demons to their deaths. He would not call the way he wields his sword fae-like. Only thrice has he saved fellow travelers from the snow-borne perils. But... they call him a hero and give him food and rest at their eternal bonfire, and that is good enough for Choi Han not to question it too much.

The rumours spread far enough that the duke himself descends from his mansion at the peak of the wintering mountains. When the village leader hollers the name 'Cale Henituse' through the snowy roads, the merriment goes silent. Choi Han is slower to fear and trepidation than the youngsters he is talking to, so he turns and meets the duke's rusted gaze head on.

"So you're the hero," comes Duke Henituse's first greeting, and his voice makes him seem younger than the ageless ice of his expression. Not that it is ageless ice anymore - Duke Henituse's bloody lips twist and splinter his face with a scathing smirk. "I suppose you're looking for a reward, then? Well, what have you?"

The children shrink away from the duke's imposing stare, and Choi Han feels his own agitation rear its head in response. "The fire, your Grace. I come on behalf of another village who has suffered decades of chill now. Can you share some of it with us?"

Duke Henituse's gaze narrows as his sneer widens. "Which village?"

"Does it matter? The cold is impartial, your Grace, it will freeze any that has no hearth like this one." Choi Han tips his head at the merrily blazing flame that burns bright enough to heat the entire village and light the roads in the eternal night. "The fire can be transported without weakening the hearth. I can do it myself!"

"You can try," Duke Henituse snorts. "The Eternal Winter does not take kindly to flame in its midst."

"Harris is-"

The logs in the bonfire crackle and spit, collapsing in a blast of flame. Around them, the villagers flinch away with hands raised against the light. Cale Henituse draws his spine straight and bares his teeth on a fogged breath, embers refracting in his fathomless gaze as his hair and cloak billow in the surge of heated air - a dark burgundy stain mars the right breast of his thick blouse. "Harris Village? Let them be consumed by the full force of the Winter! Let them shatter! Let them die!"

Choi Han raises his drawn sword at a defenseless man, and knows that no villager will stop him. "I will take some fire back to them."

"Ha!" the duke laughs, head thrown back derisively, "Then take some wood with you too! Harris will have precious little dry kindling. Give them our fire."

What a challenge that is. "I will," Choi Han snarls. The fire burns, and even at this distance he is starting to sweat. He takes a lamp from one of the children who offer, and a handful of large candles from another. When he glances over his shoulder, the Winter Lord is gone. Back to his lofty manor in the snow with him, then.

Choi Han thanks the children and bids the rest of the villagers adieu. The older of them shake their heads and chuckle like it is some inside joke. "No need to say goodbye, lad. Best of luck to you."

The fire snuffs out the moment he steps past the tree line.

He walks the twenty minutes back to the village in near-darkness. It is not hard; the warm glow is the brightest beacon they could have. The elders smile when he sheepishly greets them again, amused yet disappointed for his flame. Choi Han leaves and returns four more times before he slumps on the village's pub bench with his head in his hands. The bartender claps him on the shoulder in commiseration and shouts him a jug of mead. "The flame cannot leave the village's bounds. Not without his Grace's permission."

Choi Han sips on the spiced liquor and frowns. "Then that's what I'll do."

The trek up to the manor is treacherous; there are crevasses and cliffs obscured by blinding white, and Choi Han cannot imagine the frosty duke shimmying up the narrow ledge of this particular cliff to get home. But Choi Han has faced far worse getting to the village of the eternal hearth in the first place. He makes it up mostly unharmed, though his fingertips are raw and bleeding.

The manor gates are wrought iron. The windows are dark. When Choi Han raises his hand to the metal, it parts for him as if the hinges were oiled only minutes ago. Soundless and weightless. A single room lights up. Choi Han looks over on instinct. The sharp, willowy silhouette of Cale Henituse stares back.

[qiutls]

TNGDH 004

Evening came, and at the study of the Grade Duke of Blake, Cashew Nut was having a theme park party. If we tone it down a little, you could call in a hamster feast.

Okay! All right! Is there anyone else who wants to get on the Ferris wheel? We'll bring you up to the top in a blink of an eye. Get on now and get a view of the Northern Grand Duke's office!

This kind of opportunity will not come twice. At the top we can also play disco music... Oh wait a bit, isn't this wheel a lot more like disco pang pang rather than a Ferris wheel? Anyway, hurry and come quickly, to Cashew Nut Land, the land of fantasy.

I shook my head in silence and turned the wheel by hand.

Rattle. Rattle.

The wheel which was too heavy to spin at first began to roll quickly once it was accelerated. It seems you can turn it with just your hands. No, these hands can also be called as feet. My front feet.

[ㄟ(˘ o ˘)ノ] shrug emoji

...If I spin it by hand... Isn't it also called rolling the wheel? basically the term used for the quest was the same as rolling the wheel, the quest means to run as a hamster to make the wheel turn, but Soohyun is trying to roll the wheel with just his hands

No, look at this small and fragile limbs. You unscrupulous system. I'm telling you, if I run with my feet, I'll die.

Hey, excuse me. Mr. System.

Are you listening, you punk?

[ 0003/1000 ]

I really can't complete the mission like this?

[ It's a system without conscience!ꉂꉂ(ᵔᗜᵔ*) ]

Ah...

I began to spin the wheel quickly in order to break it. Yet my heart didn't feel any better even when I heard a rattling sound of something breaking. 

This damn Ferris wheel. No, this hamster wheel. How long would I have to run on this. Can't you just pretend to not know and be a little bit more tolerant.

No, it's Kyle's fault. Who puts a wheel like this without even considering the size of his pet hamster? You can't even find a guinea pig that would enjoy this size of a wheel!

This shitty life! Damn it!

I was busy venting my anger when all of a sudden, the door opened without a knock. Of course, it was Kyle, the owner of the estate.

No, what kind of estate is this? Is it possible to oversee all of it with just a quick turn. It didn't even take him a day...

I got caught... Come to think of it, wasn't I supposed to be taking a nap.

Kyle Jane Minehardt walked toward the hamster house with great force. He walked confidently enough to be called the leader of the North.

What about his outfit? Thick capes to keep out the icy wind, armor made out of both iron and leather and boots that come up to below the knees to help you tread the snow.

A handsome man who seems like he can't be stopped by anything, his whole being is marred by winter.

"Cashew Nut?" He called me in a puzzled voice. 

I would be confused as well, if the first thing I see when I come back is the hamster wheel spinning all alone and the hamster went missing. Of course, I didn't actually vanish, I just went to the back to take a breather.

"I can see your butt."

​No wonder the house seemed a little small. I came out of my hiding place with an awkward expression.

"I want to spend time with you right away, but...​ Unfortunately, there are many documents to check today so it's a little difficult."

― Eek [ No thanks! ]

"That's right, I'm sad too."

― Eeek [ No! I'm not sad. ]

Feeling sad my ass! I hope through this personal time, you are able to reform your inner self. Let's stop kissing and singing silly praises, okay?

Kyle looked as if he wanted to take me to his hand and kiss me. However, it seemed as if what he said about being busy was not a lie. He just looked at me with a longing gaze, and soon sighed and sat down in front of his desk.

That's right, I doubt you were given the title of a Great Duke just because you were good at using your sword.

If it were that way, the throne would've been handed through a duel and not as a hereditary succession. Whether you like it or not, you have to endure the boring paperwork for the betterment of the estate. It's the same whether it's here or it's back in my world, it's hard to make ends meet in both places.

Still, you're pretty cool... So professional

​I sat between the sawdust and watched Kyle.

He was diligently writing something on a roll of parchment paper. I didn't know how his exact handwriting looked like because I couldn't see it from here, but I think it would be very neat.

He went to work in serious manner as if he was completely oblivious to my existence.

Even a guy with just a month left to live works so hard.

​Well, I guess, you never really know when your life's about to end. I shook my knee and stood up. Somehow, I felt like I had to do something.

...Of course, I'm not doing this just because I finished napping and there was nothing else to do.

That's right, if you have to run a thousand rounds anyways, just finish it earlier. What kind of humans are we? Koreans! Hurry up! the last line is a Korean slogan, back then foreigners thought Koreans were always in a hurry and Koreans used that as their slogan

I was determined to carry out a "fast-paced operation."  How am I supposed to complete it fast? As a developer, the answer to completing things quickly is... Do it overnight.

A developer is a creature that's used to working overnight. Let's burn our bodies like we're in Pangyo's lighthouse. Pangyo's lighthouse is a term used in KR, it symbolizes how offices never turn off their lights because of overtime shifts

[ I think that's a good idea! (*´╰╯`๓) ]

Don't laugh. I don't like it.

[ (ᗒᗣᗕ)՞ ]

I got on the wheel with a deep sigh. Then using all my physical strength, I ran on the huge Ferris wheel with my four feet.

I've already become a dog after drinking so much, and now for the first time I've become a hamster spinning a wheel... It's a relief that both have four legs. the first line is a KR saying, that if you drink too much, you become unruly like a dog

Clatter.

After a few laps, I finally got a sense on how to efficiently run.

I got the feeling while running around earlier, it was more convenient to just leave your body to the flow and run at moderate speed than to speed up at the beginning and fail to keep up. But the wheel was heavier than I thought, so it was really hard to keep roll it with your feet.

Rattle. Clack. Clatter. Splat... Oh... I fell down. I fell flat on my face. I took a quick glance at Kyle.

You didn't see it right?

Yeah, I don't think he saw it. Kyle was still reading the report with a serious look on his face. I don't know if he's that good at concentrating or if he was just indifferent towards me.

"...I think I'm done."

A few hours passed just like that. Kyle massaged his stiff neck and stretched it side to side. At the same time, I also smelled an unusual scent from my mouth. It was time to rest, I didn't want to die of overwork. search keto diet bad breath if you wanna know more about it

[ 0213/1000 ]

That's right, after resting a bit, that guy will go back to his bedroom, and I'll be alone till morning.

Rattle.

The ceiling of the hamster house was opened. 

Whatever, do as you please. You'll put me down anyways and go to bed after saying some silly comments. Then I'll do my best and run for a thousand laps, turn into a human, set aside my life as a hamster and receive the next quest.

It was the perfect plan, assuming I can ride 800 more laps just like earlier.

"Well, let's take this out."

...Huh, w-wait a minute!

​Hey! Don't take my wheel.

I grabbed the wheel reflexively and hung on it. What kind of wheel is this? Why are you taking it with you?! Why are you taking it all of a sudden, you didn't even care when I fell from it earlier!

I put some more strength on my small paws hanging from the wheel. Even though Kyle changed directions while pulling up the wheel, I snuggly hung on it. However, my rebellion didn't last for long, he carefully grabbed me with his other hand and separated me from the wheel. 

― Squeak! Squeak! [ Hey! You bad guy! ] "I know you liked it, but no more, Cashew Nut. I'm worried that your knee joints would get damaged."

― Squeak! [ Is this your first time seeing a hamster spin a wheel?!  ]

"Yes, yes. You must be sad, but it's all for your health. Don't be too unhappy."

Kyle left the wheel far away and gave me a kiss on the belly. I turned and slapped him with my feet on the face and rushed to the system.

Hey! Honestly, shouldn't this quest be invalid, how am I going to complete it without a wheel!

[ Let's become an active hamster! (*•̀ᴗ•́*)و ]

I clenched my fist again, feeling my insides boil. If only I could see the system in front of me, I would have hit its head.

What? An active hamster? The kind of hamster that gets caught by the Northern Grand Duke and gets nonstop kisses?

If you want that kind of hamster, then you transmigrate! To be honest, even if I had transmigrated to Serena's body instead of here, my fate would be better than now. Even though she goes through many ups and downs, it isn't as frustrating as being a beast who cannot even speak.

My human rights. Give me back my human rights, this damn world!

"Anyways, you must be hungry. You've rolled the wheel so much, you must be famished."

Now he thinks I'm grumpy because of mere hunger. Once I stepped on the sawdust, I huffed and forced myself as close to the corner as possible.

Kyle picked something up from the drawer on this table and soon he hang the macadamia above me.

"You can eat it."

​He spoke so gently, if people overheard, they would have thought he was speaking to a lover.

I grabbed Kyle's fingers with my small hands and bit it, that's right i bit his finger and not the macadamia.

Then a system window popped up in front of me.

[ More than anything, I'm not a hamster, but a human. I don't do barbaric things like biting. ]

That's what I said to the system.

Yeah, there was a time like that. But Bae Soohyun died yesterday. I am Bae Soohyun who was born anew. Now this Bae Soohyun bites people. Meat is better than macadamia.

And isn't this just what people call karma? If you don't want to be bitten, don't do something that would get you bitten!

"Is your tooth itchy?"

Contrary to the pain I expected, Kyle was very calm. He even lifted me from the butt and began to look at me with worried eyes.

Hey! What are you looking at?

Don't look! Don't look at my butt as well!

Give me back my wheel!

"Behave and play well."

After that he put me back into the house and went back to his bedroom. Clack. The lights in the study went out, and it became silent in an instant.

I sat down on the sawdust and fell back to the ground. 

My wheel...

​Really, what a lucky day...

novel ⠀✿⠀ next

[generic-enthusiast]

She could’ve broken up with him in the car. Told him she didn’t like to be forced to do anything, that the drinking was out of hand, that he didn’t get her, that they were better off as friends.

She didn’t.

She could’ve broken up with him when he dropped her off. Bob and Cherry were still in the car, Bob trying to coax a few words out of Cherry, who was sitting in the back seat with her arms crossed, pretending like she couldn’t hear him.

“Look, Marcia…”

“Don’t,” she said, voice softer than she would’ve liked. “Look…” He looked at her, waiting. She didn’t even know what to say. “Please don’t do anything tonight. It really wasn’t those boys’ faults, and they didn’t try anything.”

Randy looked up at her. His breath reeked of alcohol. “You know how Bob gets when he’s drunk, Mar. What could I do?”

“Randy.” His eyes were wide, and she could almost remember why she fell in love with him when she was fifteen and felt unlovable. “Please.”

Her voice came out pleading, the way she only let it when she was desperate. She didn’t like to plead, didn’t like to seem weak, because it was the sixties, goddammit, not the twenties, and a woman shouldn’t be submissive to a man. But sometimes it was the only way.

“I know.” He sighed and kissed her forehead because, even with one hand on her shoulder and the other gripping a flask, he knew she hated the taste of alcohol. “I’ll try, darling, that’s the best I can do. I’ll get him to sleep over at my place, that good?”

She nodded and he turned around and got back in the car with Bob and Cherry.

And the moment felt sweet, even if she knew it wasn’t, so she put it off for another day, telling herself she’d break it off tomorrow.

She didn’t.

She could’ve broken up with him when he showed up the next morning, eyes red and tear tracks down his cheeks. Could’ve turned him away at the door and said they were done for good.

He stepped inside when she invited him in, and Tom ran off to his room like he always did whenever Marcia brought Randy over.

“I didn’t sleep tonight,” Randy said, sitting down at the dining room table. She sat across from him, and he looked at her strangely for a moment. She always used to sit next to him.

“Why not?”

“Bob’s dead.” Marcia’s head cracked up. He wasn’t laughing. Not cracking a grin, not on the verge of saying “gotcha!”. He was serious. Bob was dead. “I’m sorry. I wanted to make it land softer but then I— I couldn’t. I’m sorry, I—”

He put his head in his hands and laughed bitterly.

“I…” Marcia trailed off. What was she supposed to say? Sorry? It hadn’t even fully sunk in yet. She should be sad. She should be sad, but she wasn’t.

Why couldn’t she feel anything?

“How?”

“One of— uh, one of those greaser kids you were talking to yesterday.”

Marcia’s blood ran cold. Could he…? He had a switch, he’d shown her than much, but could he really…?

“Which one?” She asked, and even to herself, her voice sounded tense.

Randy looked at her in confusion before answering, “The one in the jeans jacket. Had a blade we didn’t know about.”

“Oh.”

The faintest wave of relief was overtaken by anger. She told him not to go after them. She told him to control Bob, and he didn’t. Somehow, it didn’t surprise her.

“I don’t know what to do,” Randy said, and usually Marcia would’ve responded by asking why he thought she would have any clue. But something about his voice stopped her. Bob and Randy had been best friends since… as long as Marcia could remember. And he watched him die. He watched the life drain out of his best friend’s eyes.

Maybe that had broken him.

“Why’d you go after them last night?”

“Huh?”

“I asked you not to go after them,” — I begged you not to go after them, I pleaded and made myself weak so you would listen to me, and yet still you didn’t — “but you did. Why would you— Why would you do that?”

Stupid girl. Such a stupid girl, on the verge of tears because her boyfriend did something she knew he would do. And she knew she would, but she still let herself believe otherwise because she needed something to build her delusions on.

“You asked me not to go after them?”

Marcia could’ve broken up with him right then and there. Could’ve kicked him out, slammed the door in his face with a “we’re done!” and gone up to her room to call Cherry. She could’ve let the tears fall and told him she couldn’t do it anymore, that his drinking was too much. She could’ve told him to go home and called him later that day to tell him they were over.

She ended up curled up on the couch next to him, watching whatever stupid TV program was on at eight in the morning.

Marcia could’ve broken up with Randy when he left that afternoon. He told her his parents would be expecting him back before five, so they stood up and she walked him to the door.

“What are we gonna do?” she asked him at the door as he put his shoes back on. He shook his head.

“I don’t know. Try and get those dirty greasers arrested. Honour his memory.”

He shook his head again and pulled her in for a hug.

This can’t go on.

You’re not a good person.

I can’t be with someone who won’t stop drinking.

We’re not good together.

Yesterday I clicked with one of Bob’s murderers more than I ever did with you.

“Bye,” he said as he pulled away. “Love you.”

She nodded. “I do too.”

The door closed behind him and the phone rang. For a second, Marcia wished for it to be Two-Bit on the other end.

“Hi, is this Tom’s house? I need to talk to him for a minute.”

“Yeah, it is. This is his sister. Just give me a second to go get him.”

She could’ve broken up with him any of the times she saw him during the next week. Boasting about who he’d jumped. Having a drink to forget about it.

She could’ve broken up with him when he showed up at her house the day those two boys were in the fire, lost and scared.

“It’s useless, Marcia, it’s completely useless. They— they killed Bob and what happened? Nothing! Now we just gotta find out how to go on without him. And we— we hurt them and jumped them so many times and what was even the point? It won’t get us anywhere. He’s— he’s dead. He won’t get to do anything — won’t graduate and won’t marry Cherry — he had a ring and everything—” A sob wracked his body and Randy slid down against the wall, curling up on himself.

Marcia just watched him. She didn’t know what to do.

“He didn’t deserve to die. No one does. What are— What are we doing? What do we wanna get? We ain’t getting anywhere. Nowhere. It’s pointless, it’s so pointless and no one wants to stop, they just wanna keep on pushing and pushing the snowball and I can’t tell them to stop!”

That was the day Randy Adderson cried in Marcia’s kitchen and she could do nothing but put her hand on his knee and tell him it’d get better.

Maybe she wasn’t supposed to break up with him right then, but she could’ve.

She didn’t.

She could’ve broken up with him — or, rather, she should’ve broken up with him — that night, when he woke her up with pebbles on her window. He always liked to do that, said it made him feel like he was in a movie.

“I’m leaving,” he whispered once she had gone down to let him in. “And I want you to come with me.”

“What?” she asked, still half asleep. “Where are you going?”

“I don’t know. But I’m leaving. Skipping town.” A grin stretched across his face. He was giddy, high on recklessness.

“Randy, you’re seventeen.”

“Eighteen in a couple weeks.”

Marcia sighed and rubbed at her eyes. “Why?”

The grin fell off his face. “I couldn’t keep going. Fighting, it— it’s useless. It don’t do any good. They’re at the rumble right now. Or going back, I don’t know how long it lasted. But come on. We can leave, leave this whole place behind, no one’d ever know where we’d gone.”

“What about Cherry? We just leave her alone?”

“She won’t be alone, she’ll have—”

“I ain’t uprootin’ my life for you, Randy. Much less as a split-second decision at midnight.”

He didn’t answer for a couple seconds. His eyes roamed over her, searching for any hint of uncertainty.

When he did speak again, it was calm. Sober. Serious. “Okay.”

He kissed her forehead, nose, and lips, lingering for a moment after, resting his forehead against hers. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

And despite everything, maybe she meant it.

He left a minute later.

Marcia’s mother found her leaning against the kitchen counter, listening to the last echoes of his engine.

“What are you doing up so late?”

She looked up from where she’d been staring at the floor blankly and smiled emptily. “Just getting a glass of water, Ma, don’t worry.”

“Oh, alright then.” Her mother held her close and kissed the top of her head. “Sleep well.”

She smiled back tightly and climbed back up the stairs.

Marcia could’ve broken up with Randy any number of times, but she never did. Never mustered up the courage to say the two — or three or ten or two hundred — words she needed. And she loved him, she really did, despite it all, but sometimes that isn’t enough.

[voidedparacosm78]

Chapter Two

The Trickster

Loki Quote: "I’m a trickster. But you, my dear, are something else."

The man cleared his throat, and with a voice smooth as silk, he drawled, “I must say, this place could use a little more color… and perhaps a touch of sophistication.” He surveyed the cafeteria, his gaze lingering long enough to capture attention before landing on you, a sly smile dancing on his lips.

You turned around, and there he was—a striking figure draped in a fitted green, black, and gold skintight shirt that clung to him like a second skin, paired with fitted black pants and classic dress shoes that hinted at timeless elegance. He moved with an effortless grace that was both alluring and intimidating, making you catch your breath as your heart raced. His raven hair glinted under the fluorescent lights, framing sharp cheekbones and captivating emerald eyes that seemed to spark mischief.

When he looked you over, something shifted in his expression. He noticed the way your hands trembled slightly, your raptor-like nails hidden at your sides. To lighten the mood, he leaned in just a little closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Interesting choice of aesthetics—very… predatory.” His eyes twinkled with amusement as he admired the sharpness of your claws.

Flustered, you tried to muster a response, but the compliment caught in your chest. You felt heat rising to your cheeks, and despite your best efforts, a nervous smile crept onto your face. “Thanks, I guess,” you stammered, your voice barely above a whisper.

The man’s smirk widened as he continued scrutinizing you, his gaze drifting to the jagged scars etched along your skin. “Those markings tell quite the story, I must say. Quite intriguing. And here I thought I was the only one with a flair for the dramatic,” he added, his tone playful yet thoughtful.

“Uh, yeah… I suppose they do.” You felt a wave of self-consciousness wash over you but also a thrill at his attention. His compliments tugged at your insecurities, prompting thoughts about whether someone like him could see you as anything more than a product of your past—a past marred by pain and experimentation.

“Word around here is that you’re a brave one,” the man said, his tone shifting to a teasing sincerity. “Rescued by none other than Steve Rogers and Natasha Romanoff from the clutches of the treacherous Dr. Keen. Quite the heroic narrative, wouldn’t you say?” There was a glimmer of admiration in his voice, a contrast to his usual sly demeanor.

You nodded, the warmth of recollection washing over you. “Yeah, it was all a bit surreal. I was trapped for so long… and then they showed up out of nowhere.” Your eyes look to the side, your mind on the verge of flashbacks.

-- “Heroic indeed,” he replied, cocking his head playfully. “And here you are, amongst the highest esteem in the Avengers. I must ask, what’s it like to be the new recruit around such illustrious company? Do you find the spotlight too blinding or exhilarating?”

You swallowed hard, feeling exposed under his probing inquiry. “I’m still getting used to it,” you admitted shyly. “Sometimes it feels as though everyone’s watching… judging.”

“Ah, but my dear,” he began, leaning slightly closer as if sharing a grand secret, “they are merely envious of your captivating presence. Why observe when one can participate, hmm?” His comment held a dual meaning that sent shivers of excitement shooting down your spine.

“Maybe,” you replied, feeling both encouraged and overwhelmed by his attention. “It’s just… sometimes I worry that I won’t fit in, that I’ll be seen as an outlier.”

The man straightened with a mock-seriousness, his face softening slightly. “Darling, being an outlier is far more interesting than being merely ordinary.” He feigned a dramatic sigh, eyes sparkling with playful charm. “Why fit in when standing out can be so much more… entertaining?”

You could hardly contain a smile, your nervousness mingling with an exhilarating thrill. “You certainly seem to embrace that philosophy,” you teased back, emboldened by the unexpected banter.

“Oh, but of course! After all,” he replied, leaning in slightly closer, “a touch of chaos makes life infinitely more exciting. And who knows? Perhaps we’ll stir some delightful havoc together.” His voice dripped with charm, and his gaze held a promise of adventures yet to unfold.

Drawing in a breath, your heart raced as you considered the layers beneath his playful exterior while wishing to know more about him and the intriguing man standing before you.

The man regarded you with a curious tilt of his head, his emerald eyes sparkling with mischief. “Ah, allow me to introduce myself properly. I am Loki,” he said, his voice smooth and inviting, punctuated by a playful smirk. “The God of Mischief, though I assure you, I am on my best behavior for the moment.”

You blinked, momentarily taken aback by his boldness. “Loki?” you echoed, trying to gauge his sincerity. “The Loki?”

“The very same,” he replied with a flourish, a mischievous glint in his eye. “And who might you be, enchanting creature?”

You stammered slightly, feeling flustered under his intense gaze. “I’m Rianna,” you finally managed, hoping your slight blush wasn’t too noticeable.

“Rianna,” he repeated, savoring the name as if it were a fine wine. “An exquisite name for someone so captivating. I like the sound of it—though it’s pronounced like Rianne with an 'a' at the end. It flows beautifully, much like you.”

A shy smile crept onto your face at his compliment. “Thanks,” you replied, feeling a flutter in your chest.

Loki leaned back slightly, his eyes narrowing with playful curiosity. “You know, Rianna, there’s a certain danger in being so captivating. You might just steal a few hearts—though I’d argue that’s probably your intention, hmm?”

You chuckled, feeling the sparks of flirtation dancing in the air. “Stealing hearts is a risky business, Loki. I’d rather not face a courtroom of angry admirers, especially if they decide to team up with the Avengers.”

He laughed, the sound warm and inviting, though it held a hint of mischief. “Ah, but your defenses might make them think twice. Those claws of yours would surely intimidate the faint of heart.”

“Perhaps I should consider a career in a circus, then. ‘Woman with the claws of a predator, charming the masses one swoon at a time,’” you quipped back, feeling bolder with every exchange.

“Now that’s a tempting thought,” Loki mused, his eyes glinting with intrigue. “Though I suspect the real show would be watching you in action. What other talents do you keep hidden beneath that fierce exterior?”

All at once, his gaze traveled appreciatively from your eyes to your hands, lingering on the jagged scars and the rippling muscles that hinted at your strength. The admiration in his expression sent heat rushing to your cheeks, making you acutely aware of the way he scrutinized you with such intent. “Well, I’m not all just claws and scars. I can also bake a mean chocolate cake—though I can’t promise it would be without a bit of mischief mixed in.”

Loki’s expressive brow raised in delight, a smirk curling his lips once more. “Now that’s a dangerous promise. I must warn you, mischief and sweets often lead to delightful chaos. But I like a challenge. A little mischief to sweeten my palate, perhaps?”

You took a breath, feeling flustered under his gaze and suddenly hyperaware of every detail about yourself. “A challenge? You’re on. Just know, I may not take it easy on you,” you replied, your voice steadier than you felt.

His appreciation deepened as he studied you closely, a mixture of admiration and surprise flickering across his features. “Oh, I do enjoy a spirited opponent. You’re far more than what meets the eye. Those bravadoes, they tend to come together splendidly.”

Caught off guard by his sincere admiration, you tried to deflect the intensity of his gaze. “You’re quite the charmer, aren’t you?”

“Only when the company calls for it,” he replied, a glimmer of challenge in his eyes. “And believe me, your presence demands it.”

You felt yourself blush again, unable to hide the smile dancing on your lips. “Well, I guess you’ll have to keep charming me then,” you said lightly, surprised at the way your words tumbled out with newfound confidence.

Loki’s smirk widened, clearly enjoying your banter. “Oh, I intend to, Rianna. With a delightfully chaotic flair, of course.”

As you both stood there, the playful tension between you thickened, weaving a spell of anticipation for what adventures awaited each of you in the days to come.

Just as the playful air between you and Loki thickened with a sense of unspoken connection, a dark whisper slithered through your mind, bone-chilling in its clarity. “You’re worthless. He’ll never truly like you after he finds out what you are.”

Internally, you flinched, the voice echoing against your newfound confidence and the warmth of Loki’s presence. Valor faded, twisting into self-doubt as memories of your past surged like dark shadows. You suddenly felt the weight of your scars heavier, the excitement of your previous banter evaporating, leaving a raw, vulnerable void in its wake.

Loki’s expression shifted slightly as he noticed the instant change in you, squinting as if trying to decipher a puzzle. “Rianna?” he asked, a hint of concern threading through his smooth voice. He could sense something, the way your radiant aura dimmed like a candle flickering in a draft, and it confused him.

You swallowed hard, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “I’m fine,” you lied, grappling with the torrent of emotions and the taunting voice that lingered in your mind.

Before Loki could respond, a familiar voice cut through the moment like a sharp knife. “Hey, lovebirds! Brought you some refreshing ‘Ziip water!’” Zara announced, striding up with a confident sway, two sleek water bottles clutched in her hands.

Immediately, Loki’s expression soured, irritation flickering across his features. “Zara,” he drawled, masking his annoyance behind forced politeness, “what a stunning interruption. Was the cafeteria running low on trivial gossip, or do you just enjoy crashing splendid moments?”

You could feel the tension shift, your heart racing both from the remnants of the earlier exchange with Loki and the inconvenient arrival of Zara.

Zara only smirked, unfazed by his sarcasm. “Oh, don’t be such a sourpuss, Loki. Just spreading the love and hydration!” She opened one of the water bottles with a flourish, taking a teasing look at you. “After all, keeping up with the Avengers must be exhausting for someone like you.”

Loki rolled his eyes, the irritation evident as he returned his attention to you, offering a genuine, albeit concerned smile. “Ignore her,” he said, his voice softer now, the earlier playfulness morphing into something more serious. “You are worth so much more than those whispers in your mind. Never let that destructive voice dictate your reality.”

His comment wrapped around you like an unexpected warm blanket, momentarily shielding you from the storm inside. You swallowed again, this time trying to drown out the echoes of negativity with the warmth of his sincerity.

Zara, noticing the shift in the air, raised an eyebrow and leaned closer, a sly grin spreading across her face. “What’s this? Are we getting all sentimental? What did I miss while collecting these? I swear I could hear romance brewing from the other side of the cafeteria!”

Loki’s glare intensified, clearly not wanting to entertain Zara’s interjections. “I assure you, Zara, the only thing brewing here is a desire for some peace and quiet, something you seem utterly incapable of managing.”

You fought back a laugh, grateful for Loki's dismissiveness of her teasing at least. He seemed to have a knack for deflecting her jests, preserving the fragile connection you were starting to build.

As Zara shrugged off his comment with mock ignorance, you turned back to Loki, your heart still fluttering. “Thanks. I don’t want your kindness to be wasted on someone like me,” you admitted, though the voice still lingered like a shadow.

“Kindness is never wasted when it’s given,” he replied earnestly, brushing away any lingering shadows of doubt. “Besides, don’t let anyone else—especially that voice—decide your self-worth. You hold immeasurable strength within you.”

With that, you felt a flicker of resolve reignite within you, mingling with the way his emerald eyes watched you, unwavering and sincere.

Zara squinted, her brow furrowing in confusion. “What do you mean, ‘voice’?” she asked, her head tilting slightly as if the concept baffled her. “Did I miss some sort of cosmic revelation while I was fetching the water?”

You looked at Loki, hoping he wouldn’t elaborate on your private moment. “It’s nothing,” you said quickly, waving a hand dismissively, but Loki’s gaze lingered, as if he could see right through the façade.

A playful smirk returned to his lips. “Indeed, it’s nothing worth concern, just the occasional whisper of reality reminding us who we truly are—or are not,” he replied, his eyes dancing over you with mischievous charm. “However, I’d rather hear the sweet echoes of your laughter than the gloomy murmurs of doubt any day.”

A blush crept onto your cheeks, and you couldn’t help but smile at his words. Loki was a master at weaving charm into his statements, and you found yourself utterly captivated.

Zara, clearly unimpressed with the exchange, rolled her eyes. “Always the charmer, aren’t you, Loki? Spare me the theatrics. I’m still not sure how you managed to wrangle this one into your web.” She gestured between you two with an exaggerated hand wave.

Loki shot a snarky glance her way. “I simply possess a talent for recognizing brilliance when I see it. You, on the other hand, seem to mistake chaos for charm far too often, Zara.”

Her offense at his criticism was palpable, but before she could retort, Loki turned back to you, an earnest tone softening his smirk. “Alas, I must take my leave. However, I trust you’ll continue to shine bright, Rianna. And remember, the noise of doubt is just that—noise.”

“Goodbye, Loki,” you replied, your heart swelling with unexpected warmth, even as you fought to maintain a collected demeanor. “And thanks for…everything.”

“Isn’t it delightful when a mysterious god speaks fondly of one?” He winked, and with a flourish, he was gone, leaving you both giddy and bewildered.

Once he vanished around the corner, Zara turned to you with a raised eyebrow. “What was that about? You looked like he just promised you the stars.”

You shrugged, trying to brush off the moment but still feeling the remnants of excitement hovering in the air. “Just some playful banter. He’s…different.”

Zara raised her brows knowingly. “Different, huh? That’s one way to put it. We all know Loki can charm the pants off a statue if he wanted—but it’s still strange seeing you so…into it. What was all that about a ‘voice,’ though?”

“It’s nothing, really,” you insisted, wanting to steer the conversation away from your own vulnerabilities.

Zara studied you for a moment, her expression shifting as she decided to drop the subject. “Alright, we’ll leave that mystery for another day. So, what do you feel like doing, Miss ‘Definitely Not Wasting My Potential’? I'm pretty sure Steve Rogers is in the lobby of the training wing, probably. Or we could head to the training grounds outside and catch a few pointers from the experts. Your choice.”

YOUR CHOICE

Go see Steve Rogers / Captain America

or

2. Adventure to the training ground and have the possibility to meet someone you know....

Hurraaahh, you've read my second chapter. Great job! Here's a cookie

🍪

thanks for reading it! once again feel free to give feedback! thank you!

see next chapter here: --- > Not out yet

Tags: @trojanaurora

[gamekids-firewolf]

also since I forgot -- it's been a few months since book 3 got published, so. here's the whole first chapter!

--

Play: Origin_02_Inferno.mry

Error: File corruption. Rerouting.

This wasn't how it was supposed to go.

Vektor was no stranger to loss. His parents defended their Kingdom from the Mainframe with their lives. His whole Kingdom was taken from him by that Thief. Certain memories were kept from him behind restricted access.

He used to believe those were simply his own doing. Painful truths he wished not to face; he witnessed the moment his parents were destroyed, after all.

Now, however.

There was no running from it anymore.

The Rabbit Hole was much kinder to him than it was his parents. They were deleted when struck down, yet he was spared. He belonged to two realms now, not just simply the Rabbit Hole alone. He forged bonds outside his home and became more familiar here than he ever was inside his Kingdom. He had more reason to protect this realm than he had for his home.

Change. This influence Inferno brought was simple, yet it infected all of them down to their core arguments.

Fitting for the overwhelming power he held inside him.

If Vektor was certain of one thing, it was that these restricted memories held some sort of key. Some information that they desperately needed in the wake of what happened to Inferno.

Their realms were separate. They had to be, lest they warp one another to obscurity. Yet Inferno landed himself in the Seventh Circle through his own means. Inferno defied all of Vektor's knowledge and tore through both realms as if the barriers between were mere suggestions.

Inferno was bound by shadow. It dripped from his fingers when he wasn't paying enough attention and marred his face when he grew hostile against himself. He was absolutely coated in it when they retrieved him from the Rabbit Hole and Vektor could scarcely believe what the code there told him.

There was no other way to look at it. Inferno was one of them.

Inferno was the same as Vektor.

"That should make sense, though." Jonathan said in reply to Vektor's fearful ramblings. Jonathan was the only one he could trust with such vulnerable information. Jonathan wouldn't bite his head off like Wolf or completely brush him off for thinking so hard on this, as everyone was prone to doing when it concerned Inferno. "You said he's got something like your. You called it Create, yeah? You said he's got something more powerful in him than everyone else combined, so it makes sense that he's got a hold in this system, same as you."

It did make sense, but there was still a piece that didn't quite fit. Vektor frowned at the incomplete picture it left before him. "Everything makes sense when I look at it as though Inferno helped build the Rabbit Hole. But that can't be the case." He said, pacing restlessly along the linoleum floors.

Jonathan's favourite place was this lab where his desires for experimentation were free to go wild. A free study he was allowed due to his classes and his studiousness. He and Vektor weren't usually this bold, hanging out together before the cover of night, but Vektor needed the company and Jonathan didn't mind giving it. Jonathan never minded giving it, much as he put on airs otherwise.

"Inferno said he isn't one of the Creators, that his hands don't reach that far into the system's origins. If he's not the one behind everything, then why is he so inextricably tied to it as he is?"

"It is quite the head scratcher, huh?" Jonathan said with a hum.

He pressed a hand to his chin as he thought. His dark eyes (black, like Vektoria's Void, but fading to grey around their edges) darted to his notebook, where he kept all his notes on his chemical concoctions and the like. Each formula was elegant, if a bit unrefined. Just like the man himself. Vektor slowed in his pacing just to watch him a moment, noting the way his posture and even his forefront code read as Jonathan and Jonathan alone.

When Hyde had kissed Vektor, he never expected he would grow so fond of the man. He never expected to find himself so undeniably full of adoration for another that it broke past every threshold for these values tying him to all of his friends. His friends were his friends, but Jonathan — Jonathan was his everything. Jonathan could ask for his heart and Vektor would dutifully remove it from his own chest to hand right over.

That sort of bond should have been cause for alarm. Should have made Vektor recoil from it entirely.

And yet, against logic itself, Vektor could only think of basking in it as long as he was allowed.

"Would you prefer I call you my boyfriend or my datemate?" He asked.

Jonathan startled, face going a bit darker with his embarrassment. "Uh. That came out of nowhere."

Vektor strode over, closing that distance between them to look directly into his eyes. Darkness, the antithesis to Vektor's Gold. He was creation, was light, yet this darkness drew him in. It drew him in so powerfully. "It's a rather important question to ask." He said. "Our relationship is very important to me, as is your comfort."

Jonathan ducked away, closing off that connection momentarily. "I-I don't know. Ask me later." He said in a huff. "We were talking about Dante and the game, don't distract me."

Distraction.

It was deeply interwoven through Inferno's code.

Vektor reached out to cup Jonathan's face and though the man made a show of resistance, Hyde resurfaced to lean into it. Hyde always desired touch, overriding Jonathan's own fluster when they wished to give more tactile shows of this affection glowing in their chests. "He was programmed to deflect." Vektor mumbled. "Programmed to keep attention away, to keep us guessing on less important matters."

Jonathan eyed him in confusion. "You mean. You talking about his code or whatever?"

Vektor was so close to something. He scanned through that mess of Inferno's code, knew all it held, and yet it was still such a mystery. Why program him in such a manner? Why grant him that boundless Create, that overpowering Change, yet interpret both as a curse? Vektor pulled away and said, "Perhaps. It might be cruel, but we should consider everything Inferno has ever told us to be a lie."

Jonathan shoved Hyde back down as he watched him carefully. Still confused, but growing annoyed. "That means you were filled with lies, too." He said.

A cruel truth. One Vektor wished to reject immediately, but pushed past that instinct and really assessed it. Inferno agreed with him, after all, on the myth of his Kingdom's creation. Inferno agreed with him when he gave explanation after explanation and none of it was satisfactory enough to settle any matter. "Both of us were given the same lies." He mused darkly, looking down at his open palm.

The gold he produced was not dissimilar to Inferno's flames, but vastly inferior. There was something missing, something more than just the way their powers never added up, the way they butted heads and still couldn't deny fondness for one another.

Inferno advocated for his personhood. Vektor did his best to similarly encourage him to do the same. Allowing all his code to tie him down as he did, it made Inferno more volatile. More likely to pop.

To pop?

Such an odd phrase. As if Inferno's only purpose was to burn down his surroundings, to prove some point of the capabilities of the Rabbit Hole.

But that was ludicrous. Why would the Creators give a child like Inferno such an awful end?

Why would they write such cruelty for their—

Vektor winced and recoiled from the thought. Access denied. There it was again. It was becoming much more infuriating now than it was previously. Jonathan hopped up from his seat and rounded the desk in concern, but Vektor held up his hand to stop him.

"You forget we're somewhere completely public and in broad daylight." He reminded his (boy?) (date?) friend.

Jonathan shied away a few steps, chastised. "Right. Thanks." He mumbled in his embarrassment.

Vektor closed his eyes and allowed that pain to ebb away. He couldn't get too close to such truths. He couldn't even grasp how that thought was supposed to end. He had to distance himself from this line of thinking, had to restart from the first point in their gathered data and follow it to a more plausible explanation.

His head snapped up as a foreign scent came to him. From the way Jonathan's expression twisted from concern to disgust, he noticed it, too. "Do you. Smell smoke?" He asked.

Smoke.

Where there was smoke, there was fire.

Where there was fire, there could only be—

Vektor gasped. "Inferno."

Jonathan's expressions switched straight into a wide-eyed horror. Wordlessly, the two of them sprinted out of the room (Jonathan being much faster, of course) and into the halls. There was, indeed, a billowing fire fighting its way out of a classroom just a few doors down. It was viscous and could only read Inferno, rooting Vektor to the spot as its waves of heat lashed over him. Jonathan winced and shied away, but Vektor was frozen by the sight, by that half-formed thought of earlier.

Inferno was meant to pop.

They were all such imbeciles. Such fools.

There was no other purpose to the Rabbit Hole.

"What are you two doing?" Puppet screeched at them.

Vektor flinched, as did Jonathan, breaking the both of them from that stupor. The flames clawed their way out of the room, desperate and hungry, but couldn't find hold in the floor or the walls despite their attempts to burn everything. They were kept at the centre, kept from blasting outward, no doubt by Inferno himself in his unwillingness to show his danger for what it truly was.

Puppet was just as wide-eyed, just as breathless in her panic as they were. Her less comforting black eyes were much more similar to Vektoria's (pretending to be lifelike, an endless pit filled with their fury and hatred), but she still grabbed both of their arms and dragged them away from the stomach-turning sight. "There's a goddamn fire, we need to evacuate. Call the fire department, the police, a teacher for all I care. Get someone here so they can stop that idiot from burning this place to the ground."

Her words reached Jonathan and he fumbled his phone a moment, saying distractedly, "Right, right, we need to call someone."

Vektor was too overwhelmed by this fact presented before him. Too overwhelmed by knowledge he never desired.

Inferno was at this centre.

Inferno was trapped in his own fires.

Inferno was the only reason the Rabbit Hole existed as it did.

He pulled against Puppet's hold as those values screamed at him to take action. "We have to get him out." He said through his stressed teeth, his better judgements. "We can't just leave him. We have to get him out of there."

"Are you crazy? You'll die if you run straight into that." Puppet spat at him.

Her reason did nothing to dissuade this terrible instinct. She dragged him struggling and kicking away from his friend, those fires, and the hallway stretched before him in some trick of perception. Though they made it outside soon enough, this school was tiny in comparison to his kingdom, the length of paces separating him from his friend seemed nightmarishly exaggerated. Was it a bug in his perception? Knowledge of his own lacking Speed? Either way, she continued dragging him further and further away along the less flammable stones lining the path of this realm. He was forced to watch the building grow farther, the smoke climb higher into the dark blue of the afternoon sky.

Almost evening, but not quite. Almost supper, but without the proper rosy golds which came with sunset.

Jonathan made some call and none of it was comforting. Inferno had popped, had finally shown his hand, yet they ran away from it. Why did they always have to run from Inferno's truths?

Inferno was distraction. He was designed to keep others away from the reality they all found themselves in.

This end was always meant for him.

It was written even before Vektor knew just how much Inferno would end up meaning to him.

He let out a guttural scream, the only outlet for all this anguish available to him. Even as others gathered and steps were taken to extinguish that blaze, Vektor couldn't shake away this encompassing truth.

It was never about him and his Kingdom. It was never about getting back before the worst could occur.

It was always about Inferno.

Well played, Creators.

[manmetaphysical]

Part 2 from 'William Burroughs and the Algebra of Need'

2: The Return of the North Node

But for Burroughs love expressed itself more like obession as revealed in Luca Guadagnino’s latest film ‘Queer’ based on the autobiographical novel from 1985. In that work Burroughs comes close to revealing the underlying drive for finding love usually with young men. He seeks a kind of ‘telepathy’ from his lovers that goes beyond the usual connection, a wordless communication of feelings. The character of William Lee (Burroughs) is self loathing and socially awkward. He is also emotionally sensitive which reflects Burroughs' Neptune in Cancer inconjunct to his Ascendant. That is likely to make the native experience emotional disappointments, escaping into drink and drugs. So he's a loner, an outsider, never getting what he wants. The search for telepathy is the solution.

Guadagnino (Leo) suggests  that this may happen using the tropical mixture of Yagé now known as ayahuasca. Whether it is a hallucination or not, there is an extraordinary fusion in a choreographed scene where Burroughs (Daniel Craig, Pisces) and Eugene Allerton (Drew Starkey, Scorpio) blur the boundaries of body and soul as the two melt into ectoplasmic single entity. Telepathy is a very Pluto-in- Aquarius phenomenon to be talking about right now- and for the next 20 years. Burroughs supposed that telepathy occurs through Egyptian-style pictographs but that was in the era before AI.

Whenever someone like Burroughs comes back into greater prominence in a celebrated film, I supect the astrology has something to say about it. Sure enough, the North Node continues to work posthumously. His North Node is at 16° of Pisces. The North Node has just arrived in Pisces so we are being reminded of all Piscean qualities including art, music, addiction to drugs, self sabotage, escapism and clinging to illusions, so Burroughs from his discarnate position somewhere beyond will have a transiting Node to natal Node conjunction. This point is significant because the Node slows down on that 16° as if to emphasise exactly that point. The North Node is always retrograde but from November 4th to November 17th 2025 it hovers at this degree momentarily going direct. The Nodes do this dance about 10% of the time.

The film is already in the news and has been favourably reviewed. So in November it could be the time when Daniel Craig receives further nominations and recognition for his portrayal of Burroughs. Or, either the film or William Burroughs will come back into the news again for another reason. The film’s UK release date was December 13th 2024. This was when transiting Saturn was on Burroughs’ Chiron/North Node in Pisces, and the Moon aligned perfectly at 11° of Gemini. And a Gemini Moon highlights someone who thinks their emotions rather than feels them.Guadagnino’s North Node/Mars happens to land on Burroughs’ Venus/Uranus in Aquarius and he talks of a long-standing motivation to make this film going back decades.

Burroughs included references to astrology here and there in his writing. Usually it’s a side swipe, poking fun at people who believe in the stars and planets. In Queer there’s a character called Tom Weston who is an 'amateur astrologer'. He does not get predictions on the races correct and misleads the narrator. Weston is called 'an old whore'. He crawls into a bar and the narrator says that "That Saturn Retrrogade dragging your ass, man?'"Weston replies, "My ass is dragging because I need a beer." Then he goes on to say it's not good 'auspices' to have a beer because "Venus is in the 69th house with a randy Neptune". It is part of Burroughs' darkly comic style. Some might say 'twisted'.

That it is there at all gives astrology some status in the 20th century novel. Yes, the astrologers are portrayed as wackos and not the finest of exemplars of this intuitive science.

At the beginning of The Wild Boys: A Book of the Dead (1969) there is more fun with the use of astrology. He introduces a character called Tía Dolores who sits under a stairwell in a lair padded by rats and astrology magazines. She talks of her 'noonday eye' because her eyeballs are like two spinning clocks: one going clockwise and the other counter clockwise.  It's satire but the fact is that Burroughs knew some astrology enough to make it a device in his work.

Burroughs thought there was no such thing as coincidence. For Burroughs every event in whichever order it happened was imbued with significance. This is also how astrologers see the world as they interweave the hermetic notion as above, so below, as within so without into daily life. Nothing is dismissed as trivial or unimportant. While he never specifically referred to Jung's idea of 'synchronicity', it appears he intuitively 'got' that point - that coincidence can be 'meaningful'. This allowed his cut-up technique where the pattern that words fall into creates multiple new interpretations more like a divinatory art.

© Kieron Devlin, Proteus Astrology, February 4th,  2025, All Rights Reserved.

[minzart]

Oh I'm going to have fun noticing the parallels and symbolism here, it's literaly the whole show

Especially for these two, but I wanna give some context for whoever is interested in at least seeing me ramble about this show

"Meu pedacinho do chão", roughly translating to "My small piece of land" is a 2014 remake of an older TV show(we call those novelas) from the 70's of the same name, it aparently changes A LOT of the plot of the original but I didn't grew up with it neither did my grandma so it doesn't matter, like my mom didn't even knew it was a remake, but that's besides the point, it is just a small thing to know especialy if I plan to watch the original after finishing this to see what changed

The story goes as follows, in this quaint little village called "Santa Fé"(Saint faith) is arriving anew member to it's comunity, a teacher, Juliana, the first teacher for the first ever school to inaugurate there, much to Coronel(translating its "colonel" but here in brasil it's not so much of a military role as much it repesents a title if the big farm owners of the old times) Epaminondas Napoleão dismay

The plot is simple, Epa(short for Epaminondas) will try at any costs to close this school and Juliana will persist to teach the children(and adults), it's simple, it's sweet, but has an emphasis also in the romance between Juliana and Zelão, the right hand man of Epa

And now older I can see much more of the other themes playing around, like Gina, the only daughter of Epa's rival, and the man most beloved by the town bc it was by his land donation people could have a place to call their own, again much to Epas anger bc it was he that gave that man piece of his land first but in his mind it was not supposed to grown a village or God forbid a town there

She... is clearly "big mean Lesbian" coded, they call her a Mulher-Homi(she-man/woman-man), she has anger inssues, never smiles, dresses masculine, uses violence first talk later, she refuses to watch Juliana undress(they share her room for the firsts nights while the teachers room isn't ready) and is clearly affected/unconfortable by how feminine the teach is, her mother is constantly disapointed and worried while her father is in denial/ or is the only one who understands the nuance of gender for her but it's 2014 and I have low hopes, especialy bc I know she ends marring a man

But what gets me is that this story as 2 main parings, Juliana and Zelão, Gina and Fernando(Epas son), and what gets me is how these 4 are a reflection of each other

Zelão and Gina especialy, the photos above show one clear paralel consistent, both are, in the romantic parring, the Troup of "back water tough persona", Zelão's hair covers half his face until Juliana comes to town and he sees her for the first time, he intentionally pushes away that hair to "see her clearly" but also to start his own education, for the first time Zelão won't be just the man doing Epas dirty work, his vision literaly expands he finaly sees the world with two eyes instead of one

And when Gina gets agreessive her hair also covers half her face, her anger clouding judgment, she is show most times with both eyes shown but it's when she is cornered and angry her hair makes the paralel, I don't remember how her romance goes so I can judge it much better now as an adultn bc she also has so much more going on besides the main "the inportance of education" plot

Then there is Fernando and Juliana, they both are pararlel that they are the "educated" one of their pair, Fernando graduated as an agro engineer(even if his dad wanted him to become a lawyer) and Juliana is the big city teacher coming to bring knowledge to the town, and there is an attraction, at least from Fernando to Juliana, as is from every man in this town for her tbh, but there's a little thing that makes them something a bit more as characters too

Juliana is sexy, there is no way around it the camera the gestures the costume she is HOT, the story needs you to know how hot this woman is, not only pretty but hot, every single man has a boner for her, they fawn they shutter, she could be a text book example of femfatale... if, she wasn't a teacher, bc here's the thing she doesn't use saturated colors, she uses pastels, pinks and withes and blues, and bc of that she is also seen by everyone in this little village as a Saint, that is a point bc it IS THE WHOLE ROMANCE ARC BB, she is a Saint for the folk and the Devil for the Coronel, she has a good heart yes, but she makes a point to aways counter that she is no Saint, and there will be a scene, THE PICK OF ROMANCE, were she and Zelão have the talk about this, and the story better deliver in him not seeing her as a Saint anymore and just as another woman, that's how their love worked in my head

Anyways she breaks the femfatale stereotype and the Saint at the same time, she dresses not as a classical domination but as a normal pretty woman in pastels and pinks, but she still acts like an adult having many MANY, I NEVER NOTICED HOW MANY WHEN YOUNG TBH, shots and inuendos, she KNOWS the effect she has on others and it's just contempt at this point

Then there is Fernando, from the short summary that I read from the 70s he was the most changed, for starters not a playboy anymore, second... it isn't as strong as Gina's BUT, he does read bit gay to me, he is the city boy coming home, dresses fancily like a prince, as he should since he is the closest to one in this farytalesque story, he is educated treats everyone fairly (even if the atory itselfs doesn't I am not blind to not noticed we got the two racists esteritipes here with the black mama and happy/lazy black man with two kf the only 3 black characters and I fear they are the only 2 named ones but hey I just finished ep2 of 92 so who fucking knows but low hopes)

But his scene with his dad... "Dad I have something to tell you... I'm not a lawyer... I'm an engineer" is... sure something followed by Coronel kicking him out of his house, I'm still waiting to see if there's something between him and Zelão as there is to Juliana and Gina, but they have more of a "the son that his dad never had vs the son his dad has" kinda vibe, that is... not so much the focus of the other girls

I'm no expert, but I wanna try spotting this tropes stuff in this novela at least, it's easier too bc... just look at it, really colorful and full of tropes now I just wanna see how they break it

Btw a fun thing I think it's interesting is how Epaminondas was the first Coronel dressed in black that I saw and maybe existed at that time, and noticing that is how I started to see the pattern that in Brasilian TV White is the villains color, not black, black can hide the dirt if one works while withe is the hardest shit to maintain, all coronels were shown is white bc of their status, as rich, and also bc they were meant to be sympathetic in a way too (like it or not the white and black are clasiscaly aligned with good and evil), but at the time they were trying to break steriotypes...after all I still remember My teacher in grade school repeating over and over that "the Bandeirantes were not the heroes that history told us " even if it was the first time we all had even heard that term, and now older i realize she was referencing her own time at school, I got the history breaking of many propaganda that still persissted by the Vargas dictatoryship in the country

Anyways thanks for reading

[sissytobitch10seconds]

Red String

Fandom: Brokeback Mountain Summary: Jack can't let Ennis go, not like this. Warnings: Soulmates, marriage breakups, minor angst, and mentions of homophobia Word Count: 3,840 Ship(s): Jack Twist/Ennis Del Mar

Archive link!

After an excruciating hour and a half of trying to get his shitty pickup working, since it had sat after breaking when he arrived for almost the entire summer, Jack’s foot was finally pressing down on the gas pedal. He turned the wheel so that the axis would shift and he could navigate his way out of the little parking lot in front of the trailer.

He had been practicing what he was going to say to his parents when he returned home and yet all the words had already flown from his mind. He had to start from scratch as he worked out when he was supposed to ask about his uncle, his work, and when he needed to hand them over some of the paycheck that he had collected on Brokeback Mountain.

Of course, thinking about the work that he had done on those steep peaks brought him back to the man that he had spent those months with. Ennis hadn’t spoken much when they had first been sent up to watch the sheep roam the great green pastures of the forest service land, but they had opened up to each other not long after. They had bonded over which of the dogs were their favorite, which reminded Jack of the squirming pup that he had snuck into the cabin of his car. At least he had someone to keep him company while his heart ached at the thought of Ennis.

Their relationship had become more than what it was in the beginning month or two. Conversations had changed from simply talking about things like what they were planning to do with the rest of their lives to what their childhoods had been like. They were both raised around ranching culture and had both lived in Wyoming, which meant that they had quite a lot to bond about. Ennis had never traveled outside of the state or the states surrounding it, but Jack had and was able to laugh about the strange habits that Wyoming specifically had when it came to their ranch culture.

The bitter snap had been the catalyst that brought them even closer together. They had been forced to share the tent up on their camp after they had stopped taking shifts back and forth to watch the sheep at night. They had left the dogs with the flock, other than the puppy that refused to leave Jack’s side, so they figured that the casualties would be small if there were any at all. Sheep may have been the easy kill for wolves to go for, but there were plenty of deer and elk out in the mountains as the drying meat that they had hanging on the racks could attest for. 

The moment that Ennis had slipped into the tent, it felt like Jack’s entire world was shifting. They had bedded down together after tightly doing the ties that kept the tent shut and the cold outside. He could feel every minute movement of the other man beside him, basically feel the breath that he took like Ennis was using the oxygen that was already in Jack’s lungs, and hear the beating of Ennis’ heart in his own ears. It had been a sleepy, half baked plan to drive the other man out when he had grabbed Ennis’ hand and dragged it down to his cock.

The last thing that he would have expected was for them to spend the next thirty seconds pushing each other into the other wall of the tent and almost kissing. It was like something was keeping them from fully falling into each other, for their lips to to touch and a kiss to break whatever tension was messing between the two of them. That first night nothing more than a fuck had occurred, they hadn’t even talked to each other when they came down from their orgasms and collapsed into the bedding around them.

That wasn’t the end of it, though. Ennis had continued to care for Jack and the two of them had grown closer and closer. It was hard to ignore the only other person in miles and miles, after all. Jack had begun to notice the feeling of string around his pinky finger on his right hand, but he had pushed it off as him making it up. He had heard that people got the soulmate feeling when they were very in love with someone or when they were close to meeting their soulmate but hadn’t quite managed it yet.

The day when he had almost fallen asleep by the fire had cemented in his mind forever. Ennis had wrapped one of his strong arms around Jack’s chest and brought him in close so that he could kiss along his jaw and neck. He had mumbled something that his mother used to say to try and bring Jack to bed, but all he had been able to focus on was the heavy feeling around his pinky finger.

When Ennis had left, the red string of fate was tied around his hand as prominently as could be. 

It had brought a fair bit of panic to him. He wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do when his soulmate was revealed to him, even though he had grown up hearing stories about how magical an experience it was supposed to be. He knew that Ennis’ father had been one of those people that thought those who fell in love with other men or had soulmates that were other men were cursed by the devil. It was an idea that was rapidly falling out of favor with anyone that had more than a singular lick of sense in their heads, but some people in the more rural parts of the world still held fast to it. Jack didn’t know if Ennis would accept him if he even knew that they were soulmates.

The longer that he drove in the opposite direction that Ennis was walking, the more he felt like he was falling apart. It was as if the red string tied around his pinky finger was tugging his entire body backwards and the act of trying to ignore it was sending his heart out of his body.

He kept going, steadily trucking down the road that would bring him to his parents. He knew that he had to talk to his mother first, she had always asked him about his soulmate and seemed so excited about the idea. He knew that she would have the advice that would save him from an entire life of heartbreak and hurt. 

---

Jack arrived at Lightning Flat just as the sun was beginning to set. He’d had to stop more times than he would like to admit to just cry. It was hard for him to even think about Ennis without feeling white hot pain fill his chest where his heart should be steadily beating. He wondered how anyone managed to turn their soulmate away if they didn’t have enough money or weren’t pretty enough if this was what it felt like.

He got out of his truck and smiled as he saw his mother already standing on the porch. They greeted each other with big hugs as they always had, her calloused hand cupping the back of his head. He was much taller than her now, but she always managed to make him feel like a little kid when he was back in her arms as he was now.

“Come inside, we’re going to have cake and talk about whatever’s on your mind. Your father is out in the barn listening to his radio, so it’s just going to be the two of us,” she smiled at him. She took him by the hand and led him back into the warm, run-down farmhouse that he had grown up in. He sat at the table while she busied herself in the kitchen and then took the food that she had offered him.

“So how was that job that you took?” she asked.

“It was about what you expected it to be, Mama. The pay was alright but we were doing things that we weren’t supposed to so the entire thing as more nerve wracking than I expected. I was up there with some dogs and another man. Speaking of which, the pup that I was able to take home because he was the runt of the litter is still out in my car. Can I bring him in?” Jack asked.

“Of course! It’s been a long time since we’ve had a dog. Do you think that he would be good for cattle driving?” she asked.

“I think that we could always try to train him up, depends on the dog whether or not they’re any good,” he chuckled. Jack walked back out to the car as quickly as he could since he had already felt the tears welling in his eyes when he had even brought up Ennis in the abstract. He wasn’t sure how he was going to be expected to live the rest of his life when that damned blond was living rent free in his head the way that he was.

He paused when he got to his truck. He opened up the passenger door so that his pup could jump down onto the ground beside him. The dog had fallen asleep while they were driving down the boring, flat roads up to the ranch but had woken up when he noticed the lack of his person beside him. He patted the heeler’s head and then leaned his forehead against the cool metal of the door. A sob burst out of his throat and into the still air of the flat land around them. It was hidden from the ears of anyone but himself and his faithful companion by the lowing of cows and rustling of grass in the wind.

All he could think of was Ennis, and when he thought of Ennis it felt like his heart was being ripped out of his chest and squeezed into nothing.

He took a deep breath to collect himself and then pushed off the side of his truck. He grabbed his bag as he made his way back into the house, setting it down beside the front door. He introduced his pup to his mother and then sat back down at the table so he could continue eating his cake. “Mama, something happened on the job that I’ve gotta talk to you about.”

“Jack, this sounds serious. Is it about your uncle? I promise that we didn’t mean to give you that kind of scare when you were meant to be working to help us, but we thought that you deserved to know since the two of you were so close,” his mother quickly said.

He shook his head, “It has nothing to do with that. It’s about soulmates. You always said that you wanted to know when I found my soulmate and I think that I have.”

“Oh, Jack! You know that’s just wonderful, I’m so happy for you. You should bring them back up here and then we can get to work on making the ranch bigger and better. I’ve always wanted to be one of those places spotted with houses so that everyone is within walking distance of their family,” she beamed.

“That’s just it, Mama,” Jack felt like crying again. He could feel the lump in his throat whenever he tried to swallow and go on, feel the tears brimming against his lashes, and the racing of his heart in his chest. “While I would like that very, very much, I’m not sure that he would. When we was on the mountain he mentioned that he was engaged to a nice girl who hadn’t found her soulmate either. Out here it’s so unlikely that you would run into the person destined for you and spend enough time with them to figure it out that they just settled down together.”

She reached out and placed her hand on top of his like that would make it all better. Some of his pain and anguish was eased a little bit, a mother’s love was designed to calm and comfort her child no matter their age, but nothing would compare to what healing would happen if he was back in Ennis’ arms. “I know that not a lot of people out here have found their soulmates, but I have.”

“I didn’t know that you and Daddy were soulmates,” Jack said as he glanced out towards the garage. “I always thought that soulmates were supposed to get along better.”

She laughed at that, and it made Jack smile just a little bit. “Soulmates have their own unique dynamic, that’s why God made them in the first place. To the outside person it might seem like your father and I don’t get along that well, but we love each other very much and wouldn’t trade our relationship for anything. I love the quietness of him and how sure he is of himself. He likes the fact that I know who I am and am willing to listen to other people. The reason I wanted to know when you found your soulmate was so that I could help you the way that my mother helped me.”

“She did?” he asked, prompting her to go further.

“Yes. When I met your father, I didn’t like him very much. I thought that he would be a bad husband because he had quite a mean streak to his words and was very rough with some of his brothers. But then one day, we were walking down the road to go to a church function and he managed to get the boy from my school that had been propositioning me for marriage to finally leave me alone. Our strings appeared after that, but I still wasn’t sure I wanted to marry him. My mother encouraged me and taught me how to work around the social issues around it so that we could be as happy as we are now,” she finished. “So tell me about your soulmate and I’ll see what I can do.”

---

He had spent almost that entire night talking to his mother. She let him go on and on about the way that Ennis’ hair would shine like wheat curls when the sun hit it right while they were working, how he snored only when he was first going to sleep or waking up, and the way that his arms felt when they were wrapped around Jack. He didn’t mention the more intimate parts of their relationship, but he did tell her about the fact that Ennis’ parents had been very evangelical in their religion and instilled in him a sense of panic about having a male soulmate. Jack’s mother, the saint that she was, had assuaged all of his worries and found out a way to make everything good in the end.

It had still taken a very long time for Jack to get up the courage to go back to the town that Ennis had said he lived in. He knew that he had to do it before his marriage to Alma, because once that happened everything was going to get a lot more complicated. He was cutting it very close as he was already near the month that Ennis had said the wedding was going to take place.

Jack vividly remembered what it had felt like when he was driving down the long, desolate roads in the opposite direction to the one that Ennis was traveling. It had felt as though the red string around his pinky finger linking him back to his soulmate had been connected to all the veins and blood in his body, pulling it all out onto the road. He had left bits of himself strewn throughout the vacant state that they lived in because he had left behind his soulmate.

Now, he was picking it all back up as he drove as quickly as he dared to where Ennis was. His pup seemed to be content with the traveling, especially since Jack was in a better mood than he had been the entire time that they were staying at Lightning Flat. It was easy to let the smile fall across his face and the lyrics of the songs on the radio drift past his lips when he could feel the blood pumping through his body and his heart singing with the rhythm of the road.

He arrived in the little town that Ennis had mentioned when they were up on Brokeback and then wandered into the first store that he found. He purchased a pack of cigarettes, the kind that he knew Ennis liked, mostly as an excuse to talk to the cashier. “Do you happen to know where the Del Mar’s live? I need to speak to the youngest sibling, Ennis. He mentioned that he lived around here when we were working together last sumer.”

“Ennis is having his wedding today, down at the little church. You should pop into the reception, I’m sure Alma would like to get to know more about his working life. Lord knows why that girl agreed to marry him when she barely knows anything about him. Boy doesn’t talk much,” the cashier chuckled as she took the bills that Jack had dug out of his pocket for the cigarettes. 

The moment that he heard the word ‘wedding’ it was like all the progress that he had made with his mother and along the road was undone in a moment. The red string was a ball inside of his body, neatly rolled up like the yarn that his mother used to work with when she was making him new winter socks. When he heard that his soulmate was getting married that very moment, it felt like the entire thing had been yanked from his body by an uncaring his hand.

He realized that he had been standing there with a look of terror on his face for a bit too long, so quickly grabbed the cigarettes and jammed them into his pocket. “Thanks!” he called over his shoulder. He opened the door to his truck and then jumped in, not bothering with his seatbelt as he drove down to the aforementioned church.

He left the door to the cab open behind him, which meant that his dog jumped out and followed after him as he flew through the doors of the church. He had barley any time to think while he was driving towards the building or rushing up to the doors. The only thing that was on his mind was the fact that Ennis was about to be married to someone else, which made terror rush through him.

Fueled by adrenaline, he flung the doors open so that he was standing in the foyer of the church. The heavy wood slammed against the brick of the wall next to it. The noise that it created was loud enough that everyone sitting in the pews and the couple at the head of the alter turned around so that they could see him.

“Jack?” Ennis asked.

The church erupted in whispers as people turned to each other and began to talk about what was happening. He could pick out a couple of phrases from the family members that were close enough to him, but the words refused to stick on his head. He walked in and let the doors slam shut behind him. “You can’t do this, Ennis,” he shook his head.

“What the Hell are you talking about? We worked together for one summer and now you’re breaking up my damn wedding? I worked hard to be able to make this day nice,” he shouted. That anger was warranted, Jack was doing something stupid and reckless.

But he couldn’t care less about that in the moment.

“We’re soulmates, Ennis. You’re going to be miserable with her because you met your damned soulmate and you’re not with them,” he replied.

“We ain’t soulmates and that shit doesn’t matter anyway! People can be plenty happy when they marry someone other than their soulmates,” Ennis said.

Jack felt that ball on his throat begin to move further and further up as he got closer to crying. This couldn’t be how their story ended, it would absolutely destroy him if he had to turn and walk out of the church without Ennis by his side. He focused on their good memories and the joy that they had spent together like his mother had told him to. Slowly, the red string on his pinky finger became as vivid as a dripping red wound. For the first time, though, it extended out towards Ennis so that it connected to the one tied around his soulmate’s pinky finger.

Alma gaped down at the connection between the two men. She looked up at Ennis with rage on her face, “You kept the wedding on even after you had met your soulmate? You are a cruel, cruel man Ennis Del Mar.” She picked up the folds of her wedding dress and then stormed through the church with several members of her family following after her.

Jack remained stood in the doorway where he had been before, even after the last couple members of the wedding had filtered out to go gossip with each other about the drama that had just unfolded. Ennis stepped down from the alter of the church and began to slowly walk towards Jack. “Why did you have to do that?”

“Because it felt like I was dying every moment that I was away from you. I can’t let us live our lives like that, Ennis. I just can’t,” he shook his head.

Quiet as ever, Ennis slipped his pinky finger around Jack’s so that they were holding hands in a way that was only comfortable for soulmates to do with each other. Despite everything that had just happened and the anxiety that was still fraying Jack’s nerves in real time, he knew that this was where he belonged. His heartbeat was steady and the ache that he had lived with since they first departed was finally gone. It felt as though his soul had returned to his body in the form of pure, unadulterated joy. He was slightly drunk off the sensation and he never wanted to let it go.

“What are we going to do now?” Ennis asked.

“We go live with my folks so that you don’t have to deal with the shit this town is about to put you through and then we figure it out,” Jack said. “But first, I wanna kiss you again.”

“Guess I can’t say no, now that everyone knows we’re made for each other,” Ennis mumbled. He leaned down so that their noses were basically touching before their lips collided. It felt like fireworks and explosions and everything else that the books had talked about.

[barbwillbrb]

prompt for clarice: that moment she looks out a window and feels deeply hopeful/excited for the future

for rackal: the moment he decides its time to put down his sword and settle down

Been really wanted to get into Clairice's head. I can't say she is hopeful here, but is motivated towards something more than she's ever been. Angst if you squint?

Will work on Rackal but this honestly was a little longer than I expected.

There was a sickness that clung in the air about her— deep and choking, a toxic yet ever familiar hug— but if she was honest, it settled within her bones long before they had crossed the threshold into the Shadow-Cursed Lands, where the light snuffed itself out and forevermore marred the life within it. Echoes of the past few hours— the dead tieflings littered across the pass nary two miles away, left to rot on account of the curse; Mol’s eyes glittering with both steel nerve and sheer desperation, sitting across the lanceboard from Raphael, reassuring Clairice that she was smarter than that (“What do you take me for– a chump?”), only to be ripped from the Inn, her screams most certainly forming the barest of affirmations for the devil to hear and sealing her fate in turn; Jaheria, even after the defense of the Inn, eying their group with justified but still damned painful suspicion, like they could turn on a moment’s notice and be none the wiser– hells, perhaps even grateful to be shackled to the Absolute, not unlike the other puppets they met so far.

This fucking sucked.

Clairice gave a deep, heavy sigh, pulling her knees to her chest. The evening was eerily cool for the season, sending goosebumps prickling over her arms, but she reasoned that was likely due to the blasted curse as well. She took a draw off her bottle— some swill she yanked from the Zhent encampment, back what felt like years ago by now— and stared out over the lake. The liquid burned down her throat, sinking into her stomach, doing not a damned thing to quell the twisted knot inside her. Through the fog, she could barely make out the silhouette of a massive structure, tall and ominous, glowing faintly against the distant coast. Moonrise Towers.

The supposed answer to all of their problems, where they can end all of this shit. Yeah right, she scoffed bitterly, closing her eyes. 

Her mind drifted, bringing her back to the eve of the party, where they made merry in camp alongside the refugees, the air alive with hope. She’d caught her brother off by himself, nursing the same mug she’d given him hours earlier. “You really need not check on me,” he remarked when she moved beside him. 

“It literally took me three hours and Karlach to convince Wyll to join the fray; I was hoping for once you weren’t going to be your sullen self.” At that, Rackal smirked, but the mirth didn’t reach his eyes. She followed his gaze, where it had settled on their companions, some of whom had joined in a drinking game led by Bex. 

“Look, I’m trying, I just—”

“Can’t take a moment to relax? We saved the day, man; let’s take the small victories.”

There was more he wanted to say– she could practically feel his mind buzzing– but this time it was his name that was called from across camp, and he left his thoughts unsaid but nevertheless understood in his wake: this is nowhere near the end. 

Everything now felt impossibly big. The goblin camp was different— it was just some drow and goblins, and aren’t they always getting up to something totally fucked? I mean it’s not like they started eating dwarf after the Absolute came to power; they’ve always been disgusting, twisted little creatures. And as for drow— there was a damn reason her father fled his people, and it wasn’t for adventure. It was easy just to compartmentalize everything as, well— weird drow/goblin shit, not “a new god has arisen and looks like it can actually doom us all!” type shit.

“How are we supposed to do this,” she muttered to herself, thumbing the lip of the bottle.

She didn’t want to be a hero. Never wanted to. Heroes sacrifice every lick and scrap of themselves and for what— some shiny epitaph, up in the high city halls for the nobles to “hmm” and “haw” at, where their actual loved ones can’t even pay their respects without getting looked down upon or pitied? Save the world at cost of everything dear to you, at cost to only you. Sounds like a real shit deal.

And yet, here she was– facing down a future she’s done everything to run away from. The actual irony of it would make her laugh if it didn’t want to make her puke. 

She stared back over the water. So still, so quiet against her mind. 

“FINE– go and get out. One of these Gods-damned days you are going to be backed into a corner and you are going to need to actually look deep, down inside of yourself, ask yourself what it actually fucking is you stand for, and make a fucking choice. And for your sake, I hope you like the person who chooses, because I sure as the Hells don’t like the person you’ve become.” 

She could still hear Mol’s screaming in her ears. Her grip tightened around the bottleneck. 

Well, it’s not like I have much other choice. Tossing back the last dregs of her swill, Clairice stood, rolled her shoulder, then cocked an arm back and flew the bottle out towards the water. A beat, then a distant splash in the dock. Time to play hero, I suppose, she mused, heading into the Inn to find the others.