#unfortunately what it does is make your feet artificially tired and that does Not Feel Positive on my bad foot

[match-your-steps]

my sister showed us how to do a deep tissue self-massage on our feet and I forgot that perhaps my deep tissue there is still heavily damaged (!! wow who would have guessed it's not like I have, like,,,, arthritis or anything,,, hahaha that would be so crazy fr,,,,,,,,,) so I will not be doing that on my bad foot again I think

[adhdeancas]

Hm, mommy issues anybody? Daddy issues anybody? Yeah. Let’s unpack that a little. Not a lot.

Dean runs his hand up the back of his head, feeling the soft spikes of his haircut. It was a stupid tic he’d picked up in his teens, it usually made girls melt. The sensitive guy, the nervous guy, the guy who’s eager to please. It made him look vulnerable. Girls liked that. He started catching himself on it and stopping when he got into his twenties. 

His phone buzzes. He looks at it quickly, ignoring the stupid clench in his heart that comes with the action.

One New System Update Available: Install Now?

He sighs and turns it off.

---

Long hours in the car are usually… uneventful. Full of all kinds of empty time that frankly? Dean likes. It’s a nice break from the constant weird noises of sketchy motel rooms with paper-thin walls, from the creaking pipes in the bunker. Mostly, it’s a break from thinking about whatever batshit depressing problems they have up their ass that week. 

But this time? The open road is endless, like a really shitty, really boring acid trip. A fucking infinity of his ankle cramping up on the side roads. And Sam always gives him the stink eye when he reaches for his phone, so he can’t even do that. He does make pit stops more often than usual, so he doesn’t crawl out of his own skin, and his glares keep Sam from mentioning it. Maybe he just thinks he’s got the shits. He’ll let him keep thinking that.

At least on the pot he can check his phone.

But time and time again, he lays down a loud paper cover that doesn’t do much to cover up the griminess of the seat and sits down, and unlocks his phone. He waits until he’s fully in the stall to do it, even though he could end the suspense the second he puts Baby in park. Maybe he knows what the answer is gonna be.

What the answer always is.

No New Messages. 

He sighs. Story of his life.

---

Sam snatches his phone next time it buzzes in the cup holder before Dean can even reach for it. Dean opens his mouth to gripe, but his stomach ties itself in a knot anyway. He doesn’t know whether he wants it to be… or whether he’s dreading it. 

“Who is it?” he tries to say it casually. It sounds forced to him, but Sam doesn’t notice. 

“Cas,” he’s got this dopey little smile on his face, and Dean feels his face heat up. For no goddamn reason, it’s not like-

“Why’re you- what’s up? Anything wrong?” Dean knows Sam would’ve said right away if something was wrong, but he wants his brother to spit it out already, and Sam looks like the cat that got the cream. That means he’s about to try to be funny. 

“Nah, nah.” Sam grins again, glancing away from the phone finally. 

“Well then put it down, Nosy, what the fuck,” He’s already seen the text, whatever it is, so it’s no use, but Dean bristles anyway. It’s not like Cas would’ve sent him anything actually embarrassing, right? What was the last thing they were talking about… the best roadside pancakes? Yeah, so, it couldn’t be anything weird. Well, it’s Cas, so it could always be something weird. But nothing incriminating. Hell, Sam’s accidentally opened a nude a girl sent him one time so it’s not like it could be worse than that. Not like Cas is sending him nudes. Dean cracks a grin at the thought of what a thirst trap would look like for Cas. Probably him in a, like, half unbuttoned button up laid out in a library chair. Maybe a book in hand. An angel blade. The weapon! Not-

“He just- he just wanted to update you on where he is in Gilligan’s Island.” There’s a laugh in Sam’s voice, and Dean wants to know why. Probably just the way Cas described it, he always finds this certain way of saying things that’s just… kinda endearing and kinda confusing.

“He’s watching without me? Son of a bitch!” 

Sam smirks. “Yeah, he and Jack. Jack finished Pirates of the Carribean and he wanted more island stuff.”

Dean shakes his head. “Motherfuckers…”

Sam rolls his eyes. “You want me to text him back for you?”

Dean rolls his shoulders out. “It’s fine, I’ll just do it at the next stop.”

They pull into the next gas station and Dean doesn’t look at his phone again until he’s hidden. 

---

Because Sam is a nosy bitch, he asks. Well that, and he’s really tired of the car ride taking twice as long with all the stops they’re making. Dean’s usually a ‘pee in a bottle and don’t pitch a fit’ kind of driver, himself included (Sam’s scarred for life at this point), but now? It’s like they’re traveling with a six year old kid, stopping every hour.

The third stop in Oklahoma alone, he stops Dean. “Okay, do we need to go to the hospital?”

Dean quirks his eyebrows and frowns. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

He’s got a clue what they’re talking about.

Sam bitches with his whole face. “We’ve been stopping every four fucking feet for days now, so you’re either dying and we need to go to the ER and get an endoscopy, or-

“An endoscope who?”

Sam doesn’t take the bait. Shocker. “Dean.”

Dean rolls his eyes and tries to bypass him. Sam is smarter than he looks. They grab his phone. “Sammy!” This time the word’s annoyed, a warning. Like he used to say right before he really viciously wrestled Sam to the ground and pried the last cookie out of his delicate little hands when they were kids.

Unfortunately, Sam has a height and reach advantage. He holds the phone up and Dean doesn’t have a chance unless- Dean punches him in the stomach. Sam makes a winded noise but manages to keep his arm raised. He glares harder. “You’re gonna talk to me, or you’re not getting this back.”

God, they’re a bitch. “Fine, fuck you. I’ll shit the old fashioned way.” Dean saunters off to the horrifically artificial lights of the gas station, a middle finger waving back just for his little bro. 

 When he gets back, Sam’s looking much more compassionate. It’s worse. “Dean, why are you so obsessed with your phone? What’re you waiting on?”

Dean rolls his eyes and gets in his car, leaving Sam to follow him. “Don’t get your panties in a twist, dude, I’m just making sure I don’t miss any texts from Mom,” He jams the key into the ignition and steps on the gas. Sam’s door snaps the rest of the way shut with the sudden force and they yelp. “Oh, don’t be a drama queen.”

“You’re the dramatic one right now, Dean.” Sam raises his eyebrows, condescension dripping off his expression. “Did she say she’d text soon?”

“Nope.” Dean shrugs. “Just making sure. It’s kinda my fault she died and then came back to life in a world she didn’t understand; least I can do is pick up the damn phone.”

Sam sighs. “Dean, she’s not gonna freak out if you don’t answer right away. Unclench, man.”

“Unclench?” Dean’s hands tighten on the wheel. “Fuck off, Sam, I’m fine!”

There’s a tense silence. Dean finally starts to think he’s given up this stupid argument, but then Sam shifts in his seat. “She’s not Dad, Dean. She’s gonna come back.”

Dean bites the inside of his cheek. “Never said she was. And Dad always came back.”

“Dean-”

“Sam, just drop it, please-”

“I know how hard it is-” 

Dean’s harsh laugh cuts the car into silence again. Sam’s got that kicked puppy look on his face, Dean knows it, and he forces his shoulder to relax before talking. “Look, Sammy, I appreciate it and all but- you have no fucking clue what it’s like for your parent to just fucking… ignore you.”

“I grew up with Dad too, Dean. Hell, he lied to me until I was like 6, he ran out on both of us all the time; I never knew where he was, he never told me where he was going-”

“Yeah, well, he always picked up the phone for you, didn’t he?” Dean lets out a harsh breath and changes lanes just for something to do with his hands. 

“He’d stay out for weeks no matter how much I called-”

“Yeah, but he answered. He answered when you called, when you texted, to tell you when he’d be home or to tell you to fuck off and stop calling, but he’d answer.” Dean wipes at his eyebrow. He doesn’t care about this shit. He doesn’t fucking care. “Dad called me when he wanted to talk to me,” then Dean corrects himself “-when he wanted to tell me something. So excuse me… if I get a little antsy. But you- you don’t get it at all.” Dad and Mom, they both left him. Both ditched him as soon as they could and never looked back. Not until they needed him to hunt something. And he got it, he did. But just because he understood didn’t mean he wasn’t pissed. And just because he was pissed didn’t mean he didn’t want them to call. Expect them or hope them to text, just to check in. Something more than coordinates and a link to a news article. 

He wants someone to care about him. And fuck if that isn’t the saddest thing anybody’s ever heard. 

“Dean…” 

It’s been a full five minutes, and Dean’s been waiting for Sam to bring it back up again, to not let this stupid thing go. “What?” he says sullenly.

Sam holds the phone up so Dean can see the screen without taking his eyes totally off the road. It’s a video, and he sees Cas awkwardly holding the camera away from him, two heads of blonde hair behind him. Sam taps the play arrow. 

“Hello, Dean.” Jack waves behind him with his usual energy, and Cas looks incredibly fond. “I’m here with Jack and your mother-”

“Mary,” Mary corrects. She crosses her arms uncomfortably, but her expression is soft. 

“Mary.” Cas repeats. “I decided to invite her to come by before you and Sam got back- that is, if you’re still coming back today. Sam has been telling me that you’re not going as fast as usual, and while I do appreciate you finally gaining some self-preservation-”

Dean rolls his eyes at the smiling jab. 

“- I do hope you’ll get back tonight. Mary has requested we order pizza and chicken wings, and I got the kind you like- the Mango Habenero, but-”

“No promises they’ll be here tomorrow!” Mary calls out jokingly. Sam’s grinning behind the phone now. 

“Hurry home! I miss you!” Jack adds sincerely.

The camera turns back toward Cas fully for a moment, and he holds it way too close to his face. “Yes. I- We- just stay safe. And stop worrying. And iHop is superior to Waffle House.”

There’s a rustling noise and then the video cuts off. Sam is grinning smugly from the passenger seat. Dean raises his eyebrows. “So you’ve been updating Cas about me?”

Sam shrugs. “We snapchat.”

“You what?”

“I send him pictures of you when you’re looking really constipated.” Sam clarifies unhelpfully. “Cas and I like to think up reasons for why you’re mad this time- avocado toast, streaks on the windshield when you try to wipe it at the gas station, that one piece of hair that does the weird-”

“Okay, okay, I get it!” Dean snaps. “Wait, what about my hair?”

Sam laughs. “Just drive, Dean. For the wings.”

Dean frowns and pushes Baby faster. Well… now he doesn’t have to stop so much.

He makes Sam pee in a bottle next time he has to go.

[foulcrownkryptonite]

The Man He Loved

Erwin x Levi 

Levi disagrees with Erwin’s plan and confronts him after a meeting with the Scouts.

3.4K words

Content Warnings: swearing, bursts of anger, general meanness before the cavity inducing fluff comes into play :)

Levi sat quietly, arms crossed and eyes scanning each of the Scouts as Erwin laid out this coming mission's details. It was late and everyone was past the brink of exhaustion, but this meeting was unfortunately urgent. Eren and Historia… Those damned Internal Police lackies will stop at nothing to get their filthy hands on the two kids. And with the influence they have, their chance at success is more than possible. There was no time to waste. What they needed was a plan of action, an infallible one, at that.

“We still have many uncertainties about the titans and what the Beast titan’s plans are…” Erwin continued. “But keeping Eren and Historia safe is of the utmost priority. Humanity will fall if the Internal Police get their hands on them. In two days' time, we’ll need to devise a distraction.” Distraction? Levi swiftly side eyed Erwin as he continued his disquisition, his prominent features set in dedication. Why doesn't he tell me these things beforehand...

“Jean, you’ll pretend to be Eren and-“ Erwin was cut off by Jean’s groans.

“Huh? I look nothing like that brat. Clearly I’m far more handsome. They’ll think he suddenly became a model and Eren does not deserve that reputation.” Jean quickly retorted. Despite being crudely cut off, Erwin’s eyes remained weighted and unmoving. The stretch of silence that followed elicited an ugly snort from Conny, earning a poorly contained laugh from Sasha and a silencing glare from Mikasa. Once the punishing eyes moved to Jean, he quickly shut his trap and slunk in his chair, a curse being muttered under his breath. Are these damn brats capable of a single serious meeting? Levi scoffed to himself as Erwin resumed.

“As I was saying,” Jean somehow receded further into himself. “Armin will play Historia.”. Armin nodded, knowing there’s no saying no to the commander in this state. “I’ll lead the distraction as I’m perfectly fine with playing bait. They want me too, but that’s not important.” he went on. At this, Levi's jaw tightened. Not important?! They’ll kill you. What is he-

“Don’t worry, as this will not be for another week. The news of us hiding out won’t get to them for a short while.” Erwin concluded, standing up in his chair. Before he could finish his brief remarks, the scouts eagerly stood to attention. “Very well, that is all for tonight. Get some rest, Scouts. You’ve done good work. If there are any questions, feel free to ask. But for now, seek your sleep.” And with those words of finality, he receded back into his seat, the phantom pains in his arm ebbing and flowing as they usually did. Erwin never talked about it, but Levi could tell when it was bothering the commander. His eyebrows would furrow slightly, followed by a look of realization then poignancy. Whether he really wanted to or not, Levi always noticed these little changes in the man.

Hange let out a big yawn, waiting as everyone else quietly left the room. That is to say, everyone besides Conny, Sasha and Jean, those loud fucks. Levi instantly began mentally reciting what Erwin had previously said. Distraction my ass… Hange kicked up their feet onto the coffee table, expecting the usual post-meeting chat between the three of them. “Eyy I’m pooped, how about a-“

“Hange.” Levi said plainly.

“Eh?”

“Not today.”

“Alright… then why don’t we-“

“Not. Today.” Levi snapped, uncrossing his legs to stand. “Leave.”

Hange rolled their eyes, used to and unthreatened by Levi’s usual ire. “Whatever, I’ll just go party somewhere else then.” They stood too, walking toward the door. “You two buzzkills have a goodnight~!” They sang sweetly before sauntering out in an exaggerated confidence. Levi sighed before going to the door and locking it. Erwin just watched, unamused and unsurprised by his behavior. Levi leaned against the locked door and put his hands on his hips.

“So, a suicide mission? That’s your master plan?” he said coldly, grey eyes meeting blue in an unfriendly gaze. Erwin kept his lips sealed with silence, knowing full well the man across him had a lot more to say. “Tch, silent treatment too? Why don’t you tell me these things? Did you hit your head on the field before losing your arm?” He taunted, attempting to coax the tall man into talking.

Erwin’s eyes darkened just slightly. He really wasn’t in the mood to bicker with Levi. His plan was practically foolproof, Levi just wasn’t thinking rationally. His arm hurt and he longed for a good night's rest, not wanting to be barked at by the man standing across from him. Truthfully, he was tuning most of what he said out. Just let him ramble until he’s satisfied.

Levi stomped his boot on the door, causing it to judder in return. “You’re not even LISTENING. Oi, shit-for-brains, talk to me like a man and stop wallowing in your suicidal self pity. What the fuck are you thinking?”

Erwin took a steady breath, composing himself before finally speaking. “Is this really about the mission, Levi?” He was met with cold icy eyes set in a dead glare. This really isn’t what he wanted to do right now. “Y'know what, nevermind. I don’t wanna hear it tonight.” he dismissed.

Levi was beyond irked. “Eh- what are you even saying? Damn, that titan really did scramble your head. Do I need to spell it out for ya? Write on little cards so you can relearn your ABC’s? Eh?! You’ve gone mad. This is stupid-“

Erwin lifted his hand up to silence him. “You don’t have to agree. By all means, yell at me. But this doesn’t change my plan.” He lowered his hand and looked him in the eyes, his mind tired and begging for rest.

Levi could feel his face darkening into a prominent scowl. “I can’t fuckin’ believe this… Your self righteous fantasies of being the humble hero are clouding your judgement. Pride? Heroism? That’s just some bullshit excuse, Erwin. You aren’t expendable. Killing yourself now isn’t going to help anyone. It’s not going to fix anything.” He spat, poison dripping from each word as his gaze remained locked on target. Erwin eyed him in return, eyes growing darker with each passing second. A tense silence stretched between them.

Levi sighed before starting again.

“We need that damn head of yours if we want to have any chance of a future, so quit being a baby and let’s figure out some other plan.” He reasoned, hoping these words would make his commander understand where this bout of anger came from.

Erwin sat silent for a moment, contemplating his words and filtering them with his usual routine of rationality and logic. What was Levi’s goal here? It is putting his own life in danger, not Levi’s. Unless the issue was that fact itself...

“Levi…” He began calmly, his assuring tone of voice encouraging Levi to calm himself. “I recognize how you feel, but you must see the bigger picture. You need to understand, I am replaceable, Eren and Historia are not.“

Levi instinctively tensed again, knowing exactly where this conversation was headed, and knowing full well he wouldn’t like whatever Erwin would say next. “This mission is above me - above us. It’s our best option. We don’t have the luxury to achieve results without sacrifice, or at least without the risk thereof. I have abandoned many soldiers in the past, and to cower when that chance weighs on myself is unbecoming of a commander. I did not call a meeting tonight to discuss, but rather to inform. This is the plan, Levi. And frankly? I do not wish to speak about it further. That is all.” Erwin languidly finished, his usual punctuality succumbing to a tired dejection.

Levi realized then. He wasn’t speaking to Erwin, the man whom he trusted and dedicated his life to. Levi wasn’t speaking to the one who dragged him out of that shitty dump of a home and into the Survey Corps; He wasn’t here with the man who made badly timed jokes Levi could only roll his eyes at, nor the captain who suddenly took an interest in cleanliness upon Levi’s arrival, nor the friend who kindly lent Levi a shoulder and a warm cup of tea following his squad's extinction. This was not that man. Levi was stood in front of the Commander of the Survey Corps. An artificial hero who’d rid himself of his humanities in the name of freedom, eager to sacrifice what he must for the prosperity of the future. Erwin looked at Levi from behind that old table as if it were a wall of its own, made not for keeping titans out, but for imprisoning the man Levi knew him to be within.

A heroic façade. A selfless demeanor. That is what Erwin has chosen to be.

Bullshit. Absolute fucking BULLSHIT. There are at least a thousand ways out of this mess, why the hell is he so set on risking himself? An unbridled rage swiftly lifted Levi off the back of the door, boots stomping up towards the tired man in front of him. Levi seethed. He won't let Erwin succumb to whatever dumbass funk he seems to be in. He crossed his arms and scowled, voice biting and unsympathetic. “So that’s it then? You’re just going to give up under the ruse of heroism cause you don't feel well? Because you lost your fucking arm to some ugly ass titan?”

Erwin glare was maddening, something that would make any other soul cower in fear, yet it only fueled his own vehemence. He’s not going to let Erwin walk away from this. “Tch. And to think I’d thought so highly of you... Go on then. If this is really what you want, go and die a coward's meaningless death.” The air hung heavy as they stared each other down. Silence, tense uncomfortable silence and shit ok maybe Levi had gone a bit too fa-

BANG. His hand hit the desk hard, the sound of Erwin's arm slamming the old wood echoing harshly off the cold stone walls. He was standing now, chair forgotten and fallen behind him. The look on his face made Levi’s heart catch in his throat, a dry lump forming as Erwin's eyes bore menacingly into him. His small figure felt diminutive as Erwin’s chest heaved with ferocity, before finally cracking with pure fury. “You dare tell me what I can or cannot do with my own life? Who the fuck do you think you are? I am your superior officer before I am your friend and I will not take this shit from you!”

Levi went cold, backing once more into the door as far as he could, gripping the handle for support, or perhaps a possible escape. He’s never seen Erwin snap like this and to see this eruption in him… It petrified him. “Well, now who’s the coward?” He said maddeningly, kicking the discarded chair further into the corner which sent Levi’s fight or flight into overdrive. Erwin towered over him, his hand slamming against the door a good two feet above Levi’s head. When did he get so damn close?

Levi opened his mouth, but could produce no sound. He was scared. This wasn’t Erwin. A primal rage had overtaken him and Levi could see it in the way his eyes oozed with hostility, in the way his astute demeanor had morphed into that of a feral beast’s. Taking a chance, Levi took a breath. “Erwin…” he whispered carefully, like a cornered animal trying to negotiate with its prey. Erwin’s eyes flashed with an indescribable something. He dropped his hand.

“Fuck,” he cursed, putting his hand to his head and wobbling backward before facing Levi again.

“Fuck, Levi, I’m…” he began. Once again, Levi was experiencing a new side of Erwin, a common theme tonight.  “You…” He paused, collecting his words and continuing. “You need to understand exactly what it is I’m trying to say. It’s my life and you said it yourself earlier, I’m as good as dead. This arm…  How exactly am I supposed to fight like this?” It was barely audible, but Levi picked up a slight crack to his voice. Infuriated Erwin was shocking to see, but this completely foreign vulnerability was something else. The two had been rather close, but nothing quite like this. It was jarring, but not at all bad.

Before Levi could say anything in return, Erwin continued, voice almost hushed and pleading. “Eren is the key to saving humanity and you damn right know it. If I can just lead the charge-“ he was cut off by Levi swiftly grabbing hold of his hand. He didn’t really know what the hell he was doing, some innermost part of him doing the decision making here. The action terrified the both of them, but it was a sign of comfort and that’s all Erwin needed. Besides, it stopped him from spouting more nonsense… So that's good, right?

Noticing the slightest squeeze of his hand in return, Levi found the words he wanted to say. Needed to say. “You know I didn’t mean that. I won’t let you die out there, Erwin. We need you…” his voice grew soft before he carried on. “I need you… So I won’t let you just throw yourself away, dumbass.” Ok now he really didn’t know what the fuck he was doing. The air was stiff as Erwin only stared down at him, and Levi directed his eyes back to the discarded chair. Anything really to distract himself from Erwin’s wide eyed stare. It wasn’t working. Why wasn’t Erwin saying anything? He had made it worse. Fuck.

“I- um I’m I’ll just, I’ll just-“ Levi stammered, earnestly fumbling with the doorknob to leave. Bad choice. Bad night. Time to go. Erwin promptly grabbed Levi’s arm and pulled him closer, until he was flush with the broad surface of his chest. Levi’s face burned due to the proximity, and as Erwin snaked his arm around his middle, his dreaded blush only deepened. Not quite knowing what to do with his hands, he mirrored Erwin’s own actions, enclosing the embrace and- Oh. This is nice. Feeling Levi’s arms wrap around him, Erwin took the initiative to bend down, lowering his head to rest atop Levi’s shoulder.

“I need you too... More than anything” he breathed softly into Levi’s jacket.

Levi had never been one for flattery or sugared words. Lies only beget other lies and Levi valued honesty and definiteness. But this… This was something entirely different. Erwin’s voice was barely above a whisper, purely unguarded and emotive. This wasn’t some false declaration to earn his sympathy, but rather raw feeling, something Levi is not used to having directed at himself.

The tears came before rational thought could beat them, and Erwin deepened the hug in response. The two didn’t say a word as they stood and kept their embrace, never wanting to let go. It was then that he realized Erwin was shaking slightly, tears falling from the man in his arms as well. Levi gripped tighter onto him, his cloak bunching up into his fingers as he held on perhaps harder than need be. Levi wouldn’t normally indulge himself in such juvenile behavior, but he supposed, at least for tonight, he didn’t want to hold himself back.

Erwin’s calloused hand slowly crept its way to Levi’s neck, causing him to shiver. Unsure if this reaction was a positive one, the taller man froze. Levi understood this fearful body language and strengthened the hug, signaling it was ok. Taking this in, Erwin began to rub gentle circles on the back of Levi’s neck, causing him to stir and the fine hairs on his neck to stand. They’ve never touched, not like this. Neither dared to speak, each fearing it would end this blissful spell.

Returning the intimate gesture, Levi began to softly move the palm of his hand along Erwin’s back. Levi wasn’t a touchy-feely person - or, so he thought because being touched like this… He could truly die right here. And that would be ok.

Erwin rotated his head so he was facing the crook of Levi’s neck, and Levi shuddered as he felt Erwin’s hot, shaky breath. This in turn made Erwin nervous. What are we doing? I shouldn’t be-

Levi snaked a hand up to the base of Erwin’s neck and began to tenderly run his fingers through his hair. Erwin took this as complete reassurance that yeah, this was ok. And Levi was ok with it too. Nerves were high as Levi gripped the man’s shirt, wanting to cling to him in silence forever.

Craving his touch, Levi bent his head to face Erwin’s. Erwin noticed the sudden change in movement and opened his eyes to see Levi staring right back at him. He pulled his head back ever so slightly, ensuring he was properly facing Levi. He searched his steel eyes and found only warmth. Still, not a word was said as they got even closer, noses just barely grazing each other before finally-

Unexpectedly, a jarring thud came from outside the door. This was promptly followed by a distant “I’m ok!”. Being so caught up in the moment, Erwin jumped, his heart racing and a mess as he lifted away from Levi. He muttered a curse word before being forced to talk about what just happened between the two men.

Levi just stood there, the sudden lack of intimacy making him realize exactly what had just happened. Feeling damn near faint, he sat on the couch closest to the warm fire and Erwin followed suit, placing his hand on the cushiony surface as he glanced at the visibly nervous Levi.

Erwin reached over and grabbed Levi’s hand causing Levi to meet his gaze. “Is this ok?” He asked gingerly. Levi’s expression softened as he put his other hand on top of his. “Yeah, this is ok”. They sat like that for a moment, deep breaths filling the silence.

“At least let me come with you,” Levi said hurriedly, and Erwin’s eyes grew wide. “Levi…” He began, moving his hand to cup his cheek. Levi leaned into his touch, body settling as he listened to Erwin. “Levi, when have I ever excluded you from a mission? We're doing this together…” he pulled Levi’s face closer to his as Levi put a hand to the man’s chest.

“Together.” Levi repeated before Erwin sealed the space between them with a feather-light kiss, still not wanting to scare the shorter man away. But Levi’s return to the kiss was immediate and desperate, once again wanting to be close to the man he’d admired for years. The man he… Fuck it, the man he loved. Being held like this, being needed like this, needing him in return, it all felt so familiar despite how foreign it really was.

It was like home. Not the putrid and disgustingly cluttered underground, but rather the sentiment of it all. Being in Erwin's embrace, he thought of Farlan and Isabel, his dedication and her compassion. He thought of the ever rowdy scouts, of Hange, of the feeling of Erwin’s lips against his: that was a big one.

Levi wasn’t sure where this mission would take them, or where any of their upcoming escapades would lead them. But he was sure of one thing, as long as he was at this man’s side, his warm eyes meeting his own, he could bear it. No... They could bear it. Erwin pulled away from his lips for what felt like the tenth time this night. Grey eyes met blue, and for the first time in what had felt like years, Levi felt himself fully smiling back.

That night, perched in that dimly lit safe house on a tawny old couch, was theirs and theirs alone, forever to be looked back upon fondly. They were safe. And most importantly, they were each other’s.

“SASHA HOLY SHIT ARE YOU SEEING THIS!”

“CONNY SHUT UP!”

“MMPH!”

And most importantly, Levi had a couple of brats to silence.

[whumpingcrow]

Pt. 8 "Apartment Sweet Apartment"

CW: hospital setting, medical whump, injury description/mention, PTSD themes, past noncon/abuse mentions, tics/tourettes, death mention, strangling, panic attack, aftermath of noncon, August mention (let me know if i missed anything!)

Elias was incredibly vigilant and on edge the next twenty or so minutes, flinching and ducking away from doctors at every motion towards him, scrambling away from any instrument they shoved at him, afraid of any pain they inflict. Even after they repeatedly assured him that they weren't going to hurt him, they were only there to help, he couldn't help but cower away from them. It was understandable, and they were patient with him, considering the very last thing he remembered was being strangled to death by someone who had already hurt him more than should be possible. So of course he was afraid, he had every right to be, that's what they kept telling him. And even though he mostly believed it when they said he was safe now and he was thankful he was away from August, he couldn't help but wish for his small, comforting touches, or his reassurance that he was doing ok, or a slap across the face for speaking out of turn. What was wrong with him? He was finally away from the nightmare, he had literally died to get out of it, and he was disgusted in himself for even halfway wanting August to be there.

"Alright Elias, I'm just gonna get a quick look at your throat, ok?" One of the nurses asked, as she walked in. She didn't give him a second to prepare, her gloved hands already reaching for his neck. He shrunk away from her, even with the warning.

"Oh, sorry," he whispered, leaning back towards her.

"That's ok." Her fingers danced gently against his skin, and even though she was soft, his skin was tender enough for it to hurt. He let out a soft whine as she touched one particularly sensitive spot, trying with everything in him to not pull away from her. It was difficult, every bone in his body was screaming for the pain to be over, he couldn't stand another second of the exhausting aches and stings and burns. He felt like he might pass out if he had to feel another second of it. "How badly does it hurt, scale of one to ten?"

Before Elias could answer, there was an outcry at the door, and he looked up to see Tyson standing there, watching him with a look of mixed horror and relief. "Oh, Eli, you're ok!"

The nurse pulled away from him, excusing herself from the room with a promise to come check on him later. Elias looked down at his hands, choking on his tears already. Tyson approached him rather quickly, frowning when he flinched back.

"Sorry, sorry," he rushed, his voice softer now, "I'm just... God, I'm so glad you're alright." Every word he said was absolutely dripping in relief, but Elias felt like if he were to look up at him he would be able to tell that he was faking it.

"Yeah? Are you?" Elias shot back, keeping his head ducked. He knew, if this were August, he would be hit as soon as his tone was even the slightest bit off, and he relaxed a bit when he realized Tyson wasn't going to hit him.

"Of course I am, baby," Tyson whispered, rubbing his thumb against Elias's arm, "I was so fucking worried."

"Yeah, if Allen's nick name is 'worried' then you definitely were fucking worried."

Tyson was silent for a second, pulling his hand away. "What are you talking about?"

Elias huffed, shaking his head. He was in so much pain, he was so incredibly tired, everything was still in ruins even though he was away from August. He wished they didn't save him, that way he could have just escaped all of this new turmoil. "I don't want to see you. Please get out."

"What? No, Elias please. Please don't shut me out, let me be here for you." Tyson grabbed his hand, frowning when Elias gasped in pain and pulled away. He didn't notice the horrible bruising and swelling, and he only took it to heart when Elias jumped away from his touch. "Elias why are you upset with me?"

Elias was really crying now, still refusing to look up at Tyson. He wanted so badly to be held, to find some sort of comfort in Tyson's arms, but he couldn't stop thinking about the pictures of him with Allen and all the harsh things August said about him. "I know you got rid of me to be with Allen. I saw the pictures."

"I didn't get rid of you, how could you say that? What pictures?"

Elias sobbed, shaking his head. His throat tightened at the pain the movement caused, and he wrinkled his nose as tears slipped down his cheeks. "Please get out. Please."

"Elias I swear I didn't do anything with Allen. Look at me." Elias shook his head again, so Tyson tried to make his tone softer, despite the panicked desperation he was feeling. "Eli please look at me."

Tyson looked so tired. His eyes were darkened by sleeplessness and his clothes were a mess and he was staring at Elias with a sad hope to his gaze, a hope that Elias had lost some time ago. He cried harder, which only hurt his throat and chest more. "I was so scared." He heard himself whimper. "I was so scared and you weren't going to save me and I just wanted to die, Tyson. I want it to stop."

"I know, love," Tyson hushed, placing his hand against Elias's cheek and swiping his tears, overjoyed when he let him, "I'm so sorry I couldn't help you." Elias frowned when he saw that Tyson was also crying.

"He told me you gave me up so Allen would be safe. He showed me pictures of you hugging him." He sniffled a little, groaning when he ticced. Tyson was quick to grab onto his wrist softly, stroking his skin gently to calm him down. This was the comfort Elias missed so badly, Tyson knew how to calm him down in almost unnoticeable ways instead of just allowing him to flail about like August did.

"That's not true. Elias, I didn't spend a single waking minute doing anything but worry for you and try to help find you." He leaned closer as he spoke, trying to get Elias to open up to him, to drop some of the tension from his shoulders and turn toward him fully. "Nothing happened. August lied to you."

Elias looked him over, at the way his hand fit loosely around his wrist, the tears cutting down his dark cheeks. Everything about him was begging for Elias to trust him, his face and posture screaming "You have to believe me, you have to."

"You promise?" He finally whispered. His voice was so soft and close to the edge of cracking that Tyson sighed heavily at the absolute brokenness of the question.

"I promise baby. I swear." He was flooded with relief as Elias leaned toward him, resting his head against Tyson's shoulder. He stayed still, not wanting to move and scare him away, but he was insanely pleased at the touch. Elias was ok, he was alive, and he was touching him.

When Elias was allowed to leave the hospital, he ended up back at Tyson's place. It was clean, with some Christmas lights strung up despite it hardly being fall, and bouquets of flowers scattered around. Elias sat on the couch, his hands folded neatly in his lap.

"It looks pretty in here," he remarked, his voice quiet and nervous. Tyson offered up a friendly smile as he set his things down before moving to sit next to Elias.

"All these flowers are for you. People kept dropping them off." He took Elias's hand in his own, as if he was afraid that if he wasn't touching him he would have a meltdown.

Elias nodded, chewing on his lip nervously. He stared hard at the lights because he could feel Tyson's eyes on him and he felt like if he looked back at him he would see contempt. Or maybe disappointment. He wasn't Allen, he had unfortunately survived and now he was a burden to him again. He wasn't wanted here, he could almost feel it, in the way that Tyson grudgingly sat by his side and held his hand, like he was putting on a show of his affection.

"You alright love? You're so quiet." Tyson's voice was honeyed, coated with a layer of artificial sugar. It reminded Elias of August, when he would use that sickly sweet tone as he said something horrible. It almost sounded like a compliment when he called him an idiot, like a poem when he told him no one but August cared about him, he sounded genuinely loving when he told Elias he looked better bruised and bloody than when he was ok.

"I need to use the bathroom," Elias whispered, pulling his hands away from him as he staggered to his feet. He bit back a whine at the pain that shot through every atom of his body, his head fuzzy from standing up. His vision was darkening and his head was spinning again, it caused an almost familiar anxiety to grab at him. He was being strangled, he was going to die, he could see August's face as his vision faded to black, he was dead. Elias was dead.

He felt arms around him as he swayed, and he couldn't help but clutch at Tyson's clothes as he gasped in panicked breaths. He didn't realize he'd started sobbing hard until Tyson was trying to calm him down. "Hey, hey," he hummed, rubbing his back, "you're ok, love. It's ok."

"I don't want to die!" Elias cried, and he really meant it, even though he didn't earlier, even though earlier he was peacefully accepting the warm blanket of death. "I'm so scared, Tyson! I don't want to die anymore!"

Tyson pulled him back onto the couch and sat him down, holding him close against his chest. "You're safe, Elias. I've got you, you're gonna be alright. I'm not gonna let anything happen to you." He stroked Elias's back gently, then his hair, then pulled away to look at his tear stained face. "It's over now, baby. No one's going to hurt you anymore." He was whispering now, gentle and quiet with his fragile Elias.

Elias sniffled, searching Tyson's face for something. When he seemed to find it, he closed his eyes and nestled his head against his shoulder to find comfort. It felt so good to be held so gently, without the looming threat of pain or fear. "Death is so scary, Ty. It's so dark and it feels like...like the world just swallows you whole. It's so scary."

Tyson was quiet now, merely holding Elias and allowing him to speak. "I was so angry that the last thing I was gonna see was his stupid fucking face and I tried to look out the window but I...I..."

"Elias, listen to me," he ran his hands over Elias's small frame, pleased to feel his breathing had slowed a little. "No one's gonna hurt you anymore. I'm here, I'm not gonna let anyone touch you." He sighed, and Elias sat up to look up at him, sniffling softly. Tyson reached up to wipe his tears, moving slowly so he wouldn't freak him out all over again. "I hate to see you so scared and hurt. I just wanna hide you away and make you all better."

"God, I missed you. I didn't realize how much I missed you cause I thought you hated me." Elias timidly reached up to take Tyson's face in his hand gently, sighing at the forgotten familiarity. "Oh, Tyson. You're so perfect. How could I forget..." He trailed off as Tyson's hands dropped comfortably to his waist. This was familiar too, but in a sicker, more upsetting way. This touch was less innocent, it had hidden motives that Elias knew all too well by now. He didn't want that pain anymore, he didn't want to be praised and fawned over when it was only going to hurt in the end anyway. It didn't feel good when he was sober, at least when he was high he couldn't feel the pain. But now he was sober, and in a gruesome amount of pain, and Tyson was touching him in that way that meant he was going to take what he wanted any second and Elias knew he wasn't supposed to argue or it would be worse but he didn't know if he could stomach any more pain-

"What is it?" Tyson asked him, pulling him out of his spiraling thoughts. Elias was surprised to feel he had started trembling, and when he did realize, he ticced. "Hey, you're ok. What are you thinking about?"

"I...I really wanted my first time to be with you," he choked out, looking away from Tyson. He was ashamed, he felt used up and disgusting and discarded, why would Tyson want him now? "Or at least someone who cares about me. I mean really cares about me, not a liar like August."

Tyson frowned at him, realizing what he was trying to tell him, that August took his virginity. He must've not known about the couple videos they were sent, the gut wrenching ones fill with sobbing and pleading and typically a fair amount of blood. Tyson's heart broke for him, he hated that August had to be the introduction to all of it, that his first experience with sex was tainted by violence and deceit and pain, not love or lust or understanding. The more he thought back to those videos, the more it shattered him, ate him alive. Elias was an innocent and clueless little lamb and August was a relentless, bloodthirsty wolf. It was nothing short of a slaughter, every video. He wondered if, almost hoped, Elias was treated differently outside of them. For his sake, he wished that August had at least shown him an inkling of softness every now and then.

"I'm so sorry he ruined that for you, Eli." It was all he could manage to say, and it hardly came out in one piece over the thick hatred and disgust for August he felt. He pulled him back to his chest, placing soft kisses into his hair. "Maybe one day, when you're all healed, I'll show you how it's supposed to be."

Elias hummed softly, his fingers tugging at the buttons on Tyson's shirt mindlessly. "Yeah, I'd like that I think."

"Ok," Tyson sighed pointedly, "what do you wanna do? Are you hungry?"

"Uh... Can you just hold me for a bit longer please?" Elias whispered. Tyson nodded, his grip tightening.

[fanficqueenie]

"Hey, man," I greeted Logan, as he walked into the kitchen, sitting at the breakfast bar.

The X-Men had arrived the compound a day before. The rest of the Avengers, save for Steve, Vision, Wanda, Sam, and Natasha, had yet to arrive. Steve and I had helped the mutants move in, due to a collaboration on a very, very annoying and ongoing mission. Our two teams had been chasing this anomaly for years, and for some reason Tony had just decided to agree to conjoin.

"Hank...Kurt...Alex...Scott," I greeted each one as they sat down sluggishly. With a small chuckle I stood up, telling Friday to get out the coffee machine and start running it. "Jet lag catchin' up to ya?"

Alex grunted in response and laid his head on the bar, tired. Scott looked to me, at least, I think he did, with a nod, then copied his older brother.

I smiled empathetically and pulled out a few mugs from the cupboard. "Oh, we'll need lots more coffee today, Friday," I muttered as I realized there were seven more people who wanted coffee today. "At least seven more cups."

"Yes, ma'am," Friday replied with her Irish accent, and I could hear Tony's mechanics whirring behind the walls.

Friday's disembodied voice seemed to have startled Kurt, because he looked at me with fear, scooting a little closer to Hank, who laughed.

"Is she a mutant, too? With weird ventriloquism powers?" he whispered to Hank, who just laughed again.

"No, Kurt. That was the building," he explained politely, not shaming the blue-skinned boy. "Mr. Stark has advanced AIs, Artificial Intelligence systems. Miss..." he trailed off, glancing to me, trying to remember my name. I opened my mouth, but he held up a finger as it came to him. "Dylan. Miss Dylan called this AI's name Friday. So if you need anything, just ask the walls."

I nodded, impressed with the way he worded that, and set out the six full mugs of coffee in front of each of them. I added two more when Wanda, Jean, and Sam woke and came in to join us. Wanda and Jean sat down, talking about their similar powers, while Sam stood, leaning against the counter, waiting to see how the newcomers would react to my usual morning initiation. Alex looked up and reached for his cup of coffee but I glared at him, and he retracted his hand, confused.

"You..." I pointed at Kurt, who had a surprised look. "...Don't drink coffee, right?" He nodded, surprised by my accurate guess, as I slid the cup that was in front of him to the left, in front of Logan. "You drink it for the taste, it doesn't affect you otherwise," he nodded as well, hiding his own confusion. I pushed a cup in front of Hank. "Mr. McCoy likes it with a spoonful of creamer." I poured a bit of creamer in, handing him a spoon, setting it down when he didn't take, in shock. I pushed two cups of coffee in front of the Summers brothers, and handed one to Sam. "You three drink it loaded with sugar and creamer. And you two," I pushed the final cups of coffee to Jean and Wanda, "drink it straight."

Mystique waltzed in, in her human form, just then. She sat down at the last stool of the bar. "What?" she asked me, while I was staring at her in indecisiveness. Then she did a double take at the shocked looks on her companions' faces, except Jean's, who could read my mind, and Logan's, who was hiding his confusion well. "What's up with them?"

I ignored her comment, and Wanda laughed along with Jean. "You're not a coffee drinker," I decided, dumping out the cup I had set for her. "You drink tea, like me. Except without the sugar.” I quickly whipped up a second cup of tea, besides mine, and set it in front of her, and her face flickered with shock before taking a sip.

"Just how I like it..." She frowned.

Jean chuckled. "She guessed it. All of it. By the way you look, and act," she sounded astounded.

I nodded and was about to speak again, when the Professor himself rolled in, along with Steve. "And we...?" he prompted with a kind smile.

I smiled back. "...Don't drink coffee," I finished, and walk over to greet them. "Good morning, Steve, Professor Xavier." I gave them each a hug, the best I could with him sitting down in his chair.

In a fluid motion the three mindreaders in the room glanced at each other, and had a quick conversation.

"You still feel uneasy around me? Around the girls? After all these years?" the Professor asked with a small smile, and I could see out of the corner of my eye that Wanda and Jean were still telepathically conversing.

I was shocked by the question, but hesitantly nodded. "Yeah, I guess I do..." I trailed off and avoided his eyes.

Look at me, please.

I jumped immensely and closed my eyes in frustration. "That, exactly, is why I feel uneasy."

He continued talking into my consciousness, disregarding what I knew he could see. Let's see, you don't like the idea of someone seeing your thoughts, reading your mind? Because of...oh, interesting...interesting...

"Charles..." I threatened, though it was an empty threat. "Please, stop."

As if I could feel him leave my body, he stopped talking into my mind. I saw a flash of guilt cross his face, but it disappeared as quick as it had shown.

"That's why," I said softly, barely audible. I knew he had seen.

"That killed the mood, rather fast," Steve spoke up from by Sam.

"Sorry," the Professor apologized, and then rolled around to 'park' next to Logan. "But you know what could uplift the moment?"

"I believe I do," a deeper voice came from behind me, and a pair of hands covered my eyes. In a mix of instinct and surprise, I drove my elbow back into the gut of whoever was behind me.

A grunt was heard, and the man's hands knocked lightly against my face. I recognized the feel and whipped around with a gasp. "Bucky! I'm so sorry!" I set my hand on his shoulder, my other covering my mouth. "I'm sorry!"

"I deserved that," he said, pained, and chuckled. He hugged me as soon as he had gotten over the minuscule poke in his stomach, and nearly squeezed the life out of me.

"Bucky, I'm sorry!" I laughed, breathlessly. "Please don't kill me by asphyxiation!"

"Don't worry," the Professor grinned and spoke up. "He has no intention of hurting you. It's good to see that you've gotten over your previous years," he complimented my boyfriend, and Bucky looked up, a small smile on his face.

"Thank y-" his eyes widened when he saw Logan, and he stopped talking abruptly. His hands dropped from my sides, and he stumbled backward. "No..."

Logan frowned for a moment, not an entire change from his usual demeanor according to Jean.

I looked between the two of them. "James, are you alright? Actually, you're both James, sorry. Bucky?"

Logan seemed to remember something as he dropped his coffee mug, almost falling off his stool.

I could feel my breath start to quicken, and I tried to calm down. "What's going on?" I asked desperately.

The Professor shook his head. "We can't get in. Something's going on..." Wanda and Jean shook their heads, too.

Bucky gripped my shoulder tightly, as if he needed me for support. Which I knew very well he could stand on his own. In a flash, I heard his dropping feet as he ran off, to who-knows-where. I looked to see where he went, but he was gone already. Everyone was staring at me and Logan in confusion. Unfortunately, I only knew as much as they did.

In a quick and rash decision, I stomped over to Logan and grabbed his collar, not minding the broken glass of the coffee mug lodging itself into my feet. "What the hell is going on?" I snarled, pulling him off the stool, which fell to the floor with a clatter.

"Dylan!" The Professor scolded in surprise, but I didn't listen. Something big had gone down between the famous Wolverine and the notorious Winter Soldier. Something very—

Dylan.

I cringed, bringing my free hand to cover one of my ears as if that would help. "Stop, Charles..."

No, let him go. Let him be. I'm allowing you to do this before I do it for you. I can't stop anything he does to you if he becomes angry.

"Charles! Get out of my head!" I shouted out, not loosening my grip on Logan's shirt. Suddenly, I felt six sharp claws pressing into my sides, threateningly. I gasped and held in my breath, as if any movement could impale me. Me, being the stubborn idiot I was, didn't let go...still. I needed to figure out what was going on, what had happened.

"Let go of me, Princess, and maybe I'll tell you," I heard Logan's low growl, for my eyes were still screwed up right in a grimace from Charles. The blades pressed a little harder.

Dylan, came Charles' voice once again.

Shaking, I let go, sinking to the floor. I sighed in relief when I heard the blades slide back into Logan's skin. The dull pain I had felt in my feet was gone, Wanda must've removed the glass.

"I'm sorry," I mumbled, gladly taking Steve's hand to stand up. He gently hugged me, asking if I was alright. "Yeah," I answered softly.

Just then, the rest of the missing Avengers rushed into the kitchen. "Friday told us something was going on," Tony blurted, breathing hard. Natasha was leading everyone else, she had probably gone to meet them.

Vision came through the ceiling. "Yes, is there a problem?"

"I can't do this right now," I breathed, pushing out of Steve's arms, and running off. I had to find Bucky. Sam was going to come follow me, but Steve held his arm out.

"She needs this," the Professor said, and Steve nodded in agreement.

I ran through the winding halls of the compound, until I had to stop to breathe. I heard small gasps from the room next to me, Bucky's. I must've gone on autopilot, because I didn't remember telling myself to go there.

I pushed open the door, slowly, but making enough noise so I didn't startle him.

But I couldn't open it all the way.

Bucky was sitting right there, tearing at his hair, mumbling to himself, and what surprised me most, that made my heart break, were the wet tear tracks trailing down his cheeks.

"James..." I whispered, slipping in the door, closing it softly behind me. "James, it's me, Dylan. Dylan Kloster. Where are you?"

I'd only had to go through this a couple times before, this was a full panic attack, worse than his small ones he had every so often.

I heard him audibly gulp and he choked out a name. "Jasmine Falls."

Okay, that was a start. "I'm at—" I was cut off by his strangled sob. "James, I'm at the Avengers Compound, can you join me there?"

"Kill them," the man with the book said.

"Both of them?"

"James?" I asked again, trying to keep a steady tone of voice. "Can you join me?"

"Both of them. I don't care about the child."

"I..." he breathed, looking up to meet my eyes. But then he flinched and my progress was lost.

"Logan!" The wife called out, crying, begging. Itsu. That was her name. "Please, spare me! Please!"

But his job was to ignore those pleas, draw out the infamous Wolverine.

"LOGAN!"

And it was over.

"James, you're at the Avengers Compound, with me, in your room. I'm Dylan," I felt a tear slide down my cheek as I tilted his head up. It hurt to see him so vulnerable and broken. "I'm Dylan Kloster. Your girlfriend. Please. Come back to me. Your name is James Buchanan Barnes."

The soldier waited in the shadows, he was always told to wait until he could hear the cries of those who found what he had done. He hated it, but he did what he was told.

"Itsu? I'm home, and have news," the gruff voice was heard from inside the cabin. "Itsu?"

Bucky clenched his hands around his head, trying to block out the sounds that were in his head. I shakily grabbed onto his hands, bringing them down, fighting against him. "James, look at me."

The cabin was silent, and he saw a figure dashing out the back door, carrying a bundle. But it wasn't the Wolverine seeking revenge on whoever murdered his wife...

The soldier ignored it. It wasn't his mission.

"Itsu, my darling," The soldier heard the whisper through the breeze of the air. "I'm sorry... I love you..."

"I love you," I told him, and his eyes snapped open, red, irritated. "I love you."

In the dry silence that filled the air as I stared into his eyes, watching him slowly come back to me, I felt my own letting tears slide down my cheeks, over and over and over.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, reaching up to wipe away the wetness on my face.

I shook my head, grabbing onto his cold metal hand. "Don't apologize."

Then I pressed my lips to his, before pulling away.

But instead of turning away like he usually did, he guided my lips back to connect to his. He kissed me, long, slow, and deep. I let my eyes flutter closed as I reciprocated, not minding the salty taste in his lips. It seemed he didn't mind the taste on mine as he pulled me closer, sending a shiver up my spine when he dragged his calloused hand down my arm to my hip, keeping me in place.

He pulled away, leaving me wanting for more, but pressed a vibranium finger to my kiss-swollen lips.

"Stay?"

"Always."

*Reposted from quotev.com, from user @.goddssofsecrets

[imaginariumpod]

For the defense of slowing down: a study of slowness in cinema.

Leisure - Poem by William Henry Davies

What is this life if, full of care,

We have no time to stand and stare.

No time to stand beneath the boughs

And stare as long as sheep or cows. 

No time to see, when woods we pass,

Where squirrels hide their nuts in grass.

No time to see, in broad daylight,

Streams full of stars, like skies at night.

 No time to turn at Beauty's glance,

And watch her feet, how they can dance.

No time to wait till her mouth can

Enrich that smile her eyes began.

A poor life this is if, full of care,

We have no time to stand and stare.

For the defense of slowing down: a study of slowness in cinema. 

This article is one that I have been meaning to write for a while and that is very important to me in a lot of ways, but also I feel like with the amount of people staying at home and who have had to slow down their pace of life one way or another in the past months, it just feels oddly relevant. A lot of people have been forced to ease the pace of their lives, and have had the time, maybe for the first time in years, to spend on things they couldn’t before. People who have been trying to take care of themselves in any way they can, by maybe learning how to cook or bake bread, maybe finally having the time to just take a nap and not feel any guilt because they aren’t productive. 

This might be more personal than usual because I feel like I really do need to put this subject in perspective to myself first, and then in perspective to the general context and climate that is shaping our world. We live in a culture where productivity is valued more than anything, where you are expected to go above and beyond, and to run yourself to the ground in the pursuit of success, of money, of efficiency. If you don't have a side project or four, it might feel like you are a bit of a failure because don’t you know you have to take advantage of every opportunities out there to make a name for yourself ? This hustle culture that is becoming predominant everywhere, but especially in western culture, is definitely a byproduct of capitalism in a way it never have been seen before. You only have to take a look in the self-help section of a bookshop or a library to feel exhausted : The Seven Habits of Highly Effective People, The Power of Habit: Why We Do What We Do in Life and Business, or Ready for Anything: 52 Productivity Principles for Getting Things Done. 

While I think being a hardworking person and trying to be productive in order to achieve your goals, there’s definitely a point where it’s too much for one person to handle, and when this constant stress of needing to be successful all the time and to always go above and beyond what is needed becomes a societal expectation placed on all of us, that’s when it becomes dangerous. There’s a certain climate that is saying that we need to be constantly productive to be valuable to the system, or else, what is the point of you existing. 

And my friends. the only point is you being alive. And being content. and that’s what matters in the end. 

The point isn’t to further a corporation’s agenda, the point isn't to exhaust yourself trying to play the game of a system that is designed to fail you. The point is that, maybe, someday, you wake up a bit earlier than usual, and you drink your tea in a world that is still quiet and peaceful. The point is, maybe that you feel safe, that you feel content, that you feel loved, and you have the time to just breathe. 

And to just be. 

Take a breath. 

So most of my friends know this, but I feel like I need to share this to give my proper perspective on this subject. Before finishing my Bachelor’s degree in Art History, I had previously done two years in architectural design. It seemed like a good idea at the time, it was a creative endeavor that seemed fulfilling and yet also a smart move practically speaking. I wanted to be able to find a job after finishing university, and maybe continuing on to grad school to eventually become an architect. That was the initial plan when I was 20 and started university. Fresh-eyed, full of hope and determination. 

Those two years were a nightmare. 

To sum up really quickly, I was so stressed and anxious, I ended up having constant panic attacks and breakdowns for a whole month, every single day of that month, which made me take the difficult decision to give up on that degree. I had an actual burnout before my 22nd birthday and had to take a full year off to recover from this. 

I think it’s then, that I truly was hit by how dangerous fatigue and exhaustion could end up being, both mentally and physically. How, when pushed by the constant pressure to perform and to catch up to a standard that keeps rising, and to a speed that keeps getting faster and faster, one is bound to crack at some point. The stress and anxiety that this puts on people can easily get to be too much to handle. That year off, being forced to slow down, to reconnect with myself and with who I am and with what I wanted from life  really was one of the most beneficial things to me and I just wanted to give a bit of my story to make you understand where I am personally coming from, when it comes to slowing down, and to slowing the pace of life. Unfortunately, most of us have a story that resembles this in some way shape or form. I know I was incredibly lucky to be able to take that year off, and it's a privilege many of us might not be able to have.

So this is why  I think i can say, that for a lot of us, we are just tired. We are so tired.  I know I am exhausted. Life can just be so tiring, there’s this really fine line between being productive and having an active life and being run to the ground. It’s a fine line that a lot of us thread, and it can get overwhelming very easily.  Indeed, «life has become fast-paced, as people try to live up to these expectations. Yet, while many people might be materially affluent, their quality of life and work-life balance are often unsatisfactory, and potentially lead to stress and burnout (Schor, 1998).»  I feel that especially for the current modern life experience, a lot of us can relate to that, in ways it may not have been felt before in previous generations. Time has always been precious, but it just feels like there’s never enough hours in the day to be able to finish all the things you want to do. 

The luxury of time. Time to do nothing. 

It might seem that we have more time,  but  «that free time is used to cram more activities into the day and to travel further to work». Which means that we are all trying to  manage to do everything at once, whether it’s working, and trying to continue learning, and needing to keep yourself in shape, and to keep your space clean, and also needing to keep a social life, and sleeping well, and etc and etc. It feels like you always have to do this and that and the list of expectations and goals to meet is never ending and constantly adding up. Indeed, «it is not just free time that people desire, but more time for meaningful things».  You are just one person, and there’s only so much one can do before it gets to be too overwhelming. And in those moments, I think it’s important to just. Take a deep breath and Slow down. 

We need rest. we need fulfillment. I think there’s a lot of disenchantment toward modern life, by the dream that have been sold to us since we were young. Just work harder and you’ll make it. Work more hours, do more things, put yourself out there, run yourself ragged to the ground and then you will finally get what you deserve (money ! fame ! success ! love ! Family ! Friends!  ) and yet all we have is exhaustion and stress and anxiety and pain. I think this whole context has made it so that there’s a resurgence lately of an appreciation for  slower media, whether we are talking about movies, books or something else. 

I think it can be really interesting to mention the newest Animal Crossing game (Animal Crossing : New Horizons) that has been played by a lot of people since its release, which has been considered like  «the video game equivalent of a relaxing getaway — and we could all use that kind of respite right now.» Those kind of slower paced games where you have to build your own life and take care of a city, village or, in this case,  island (slow-life simulation games) let players exerce control in their island in a way they feel they might not be able to in their own live. This is a very wholesome game that players can get really engrossed into, and that can provide them with much needed relief and escapism from the troubles of real life, when things get really hard. Those type of games also need you to take things slowly, one step at a time, which I think is very interesting when we think about low-stress sources of entertainment.

 «In this, the game forces you to take it one day at a time. You can bypass this by "time traveling," or setting your Switch system clock ahead of time to advance quicker than the game intends for you to, but this isn't how it's meant to be played. You're supposed to feel a sense of slow, but meaningful progression throughout the course of your island adventure, and artificial time changes take away from that»

I could also mention the growing popularity of the cottagecore aesthetic on various social platforms such as tumblr, Instagram and twitter. While being predominantly a visual and aesthetic trend, cottagecore does reflect a  growing desire by younger people in their teens and early 20s to have simpler and slower life. Dreams of just living in a tiny house, with maybe a vegetable patch, and all of the time in the world to just bask in the sun.  As «[a]n obvious backlash to the hustle culture embodied by Fiverr ads, cottagecore attempts to assuage burnout with a languid enjoyment of life’s mundane tasks.» This aesthetic trend then seems an answer to the growing consumerism and rapid pace of life.

This seems like an unattainable fantasy to most of us, which is why I think a lot of people have been gravitating toward those aesthetics and ways of thinking and living. «It’s a romanticised idea that we could leave behind all the stress and craziness in our lives to go live off-the-grid, where emails can’t reach us and our only task is baking bread or making jam. » I know this isn’t something that everyone longs for, but to me, this sounds like a dream and something that seems like a distant hope. I do wish I could take some time off in a small cottage or mediterranean house, maybe not forever, but maybe spend a few months with the freedom of having the time to myself and using that time the way I desire. Just so one can breathe, reconnect with oneself and have enough energy to keep moving on. «Cottagecore is the perfect escape, it’s soothing and calming but it’s also relatively attainable. Maybe we can’t all go live in a cabin in the woods, wearing nothing but flowy dresses while tending to our garden of wildflowers. But we can learn to cross stitch, we can bake bread, we can buy some watercolours, we can have a picnic in our backyard.»

I am always so anxious about so many things and the only thing I want at any given moment is to have a small house and no responsibilities greater than doing the groceries and watering the plants in my garden. I think that life has gotten very hard and difficult to handle, what with the climate crisis, the political unstableness, the economical unstableness, the rise of the alt-right, and now the whole global pandemic going on, it’s easy to understand why people would feel drawn toward comforting things : « Rebecca Jennings ties a push for coziness in branding (and trends like cottagecore) to the feeling that "things are bad, and people are anxious about whatever ongoing horrors are metabolizing in geopolitics, the environment, and capitalism." »

 I want to be safe financially and fulfilled. I want to have the time and space to do the things I really want to achieve instead of giving my time away to a system that does not care about me.

I want to have the calm of heart that I have lost years ago and that I yearn to regain. 

nostalgia & aesthetic 

There's an aesthetic of nostalgia that is really present in a lot of slow living content and slow media. I don't think ANY of us want to go back in time where things weren’t better for any of us unless you maybe are a white straight cis man, and even then.... In my opinion, slow living and wanting to slow down is not a rejection of technology or modernity in itself, but inherently a rejection of capitalism. You do not have to be productive to be valuable, and to be deserving of happiness, of peace, of love and of dignity. You deserve all of that no matter how useful or not you are to the capitalist system. It’s not about going back to oppressive social norms, but moving forward from them. 

I also feel like slow living brings a self care as deeper than the shallow superficial and capitalist self care that's being sold to us.  I’m not going to deny that it feels nice to do an extensive skincare routine before sleeping, but there’s a lot to be said about a nightly ritual that makes you feel more grounded in yourself and taking care of yourself and the body you inhabit versus the gigantic capitalistic machine that is the Beauty Industry™.  The same way the simple acts of taking of yourself and taking the time to slow down can be a revolutionary act of self-love, they can also be taken advantage of and capitalized on by the huge capitalist industries that use wellness, self-care and self-love as marketing tactics. In our era, it feels simply impossible now to get away from the “treat yourself” campaign. Industries have tapped into the real desire of people to live a more meaningful and happier life by making it mostly into a trend, and not an intentional change to someone’s lifestyle to make it better. 

I am of the opinion that slowing down shouldn’t be a trend, but a very deliberate act taken in order to take care of ourselves, of our mental health and our physical health. I think it’s a very essential need that we have to not feel burnt-out and to not feel trapped and stifled by our own lives, and having the space and energy to pursue our dreams and desires.

 (Not to say the culprit is capitalism … but the culprit is capitalism) (also not to advocate for revolution on a public platform but revolution)

What I mean by slow media, and slowness in media is that content that tends to be more of the slice of life genre. They are peaceful, quiet. Maybe nothing much happens at all, but it rings very true and very real. Those moments of calm are soothing when maybe the rest of my life really is not. The way someone relates to art and media is very personal and can vary a lot, but the escapism that this sort of stories provides and I feel that with the faster pace of life that has become the norm, it might become something that we seek more often than not. 

To me, this sort of media feels like relief. 

slow cinema 

Cinema has long been a medium that is very efficient at communicating epic and grandiose stories. Movies that are jam packed with action and drama and heightened emotions and tension. And while those movies can be very good and entertaining, I think there’s also a place in the world of cinema for movies that are slower. In fact, there’s a distinct genre of movies where the focus is not on a very fast paced plot or extravagant action scenes and dramatic events, but where the importance is placed on the mundane. Where the slow moments of everyday life and the quiet emotions that we all feel take precedence. It’s possible to name filmmakers such as Yasujiro Ozu or Agnes Varda.

 We could also talk about movies such as the Before Trilogy by Richard Linklater (Before Sunrise (1995), Before Sunset (2004), Before Midnight (2013)), where each movie spans a very short period of time and consists entirely of conversations between two people. Those movies are slow, ordinary and yet extraordinary in the sense that it’s two people who have found each other and are speaking and connecting. There’s nothing much that’s happening in those films, and yet it’s impactful. 

The movies made by those directors who tend to favor slower cinema often showcases a simpler plotline, but a more complex emotional arc. They are full of slow and quiet scenes, which makes those movies soothing, calming and nostalgic. 

What is slow cinema though ? in the academic sense, slow cinema is often defined as «a modern cinematic production trend that emphasizes slowness and duration of time» Even though there’s a lot of more contemporary cinematic examples of slow cinema in more experimental movies such as directors Abbas Kiarostami or Tsai Ming Liang whose movies are very much in line with what is slow cinema. When it comes to slow movies, «Flanagan writes that the stylistic features of ‘slow films’ are “the employment of (often extremely) long takes, de-centred and understated modes of storytelling, and a pronounced emphasis on quietude and the everyday,”»  The techniques used in slow-paced movies will often communicate a romanticization of everyday life, of routine, of moments that are quiet and peaceful. 

There’s a lot of emphasis put on the passage of time, whether it’s a slow drag of time, with nothing much to do, the quiet moments that punctuates our daily lives or the years passing by and the plotlines in those movies spanning years, generations and even lifetimes. I think this is one of the reason why this kind of cinema can be really relevant in our times, where we feel that time is a precious commodity that isn’t ours anymore, and where time is filled with the pressure of being constantly productive, slow cinema poses itself as the antithesis of that. 

«Slow Cinema situates itself solidly within art cinema both in aesthetic and methodology: it is defined by authorship that hinges on the representation of reality. It carries with it a disposition towards the consumption of time that forces the audience to labour through and critically engage with the film itself.»

It’s possible to see that this type of cinema is something that’s very sought after lately, as proven by this letterboxd list The Absolute Beauty in Everyday’s Mundanity, which has been liked by a total of 6,092 people at the moment of writing this article (including me). Containing 209 movies that fit into what the list maker considers as being slow movies that showcase the beauty of everyday life, this list demonstrates that there’s a very definite space for movies that have a more deliberate pace and who, instead of trying to heighten the stakes and action constantly, do take the opportunity to just. Slow down. 

An enchanted month. 

Elizabeth Von Arnim (1866-1941) was a english author active during the early 20th century. She wrote both fictional and non-fictional books, and the ones I have read from her are very in this vein of slow living, taking the time to just sit in a garden,  and let time heal you. It's from her book  Enchanted April (1922), which  is one of my favorite books and that I wholeheartedly recommend, that the consequent 1992 movie, released by the BBC, was adapted from. 

                            Von Arnim made a point to give a prevalent place in her books to the spaces where one could feel at ease and free from the constraints dictated by social norms and what people might expect from you :  «In the garden, Elizabeth von Arnim could think, reflect, and distance herself from the oppressions and duties of the highly rigid and strict German culture that she had adopted through her marriage to Count Henning von Arnim. In observing the varying seasons of nature in conjunction with an active pleasure in literature, she perceived the garden as a metaphor of her life in terms of the development of her soul, and in this context, she believed herself to be in "the process of becoming".» I think it’s possible to draw a parallel between the demands of life that are growing increasingly harder to handle. While Von Arnim puts is mostly in relation to the social norms that were in place during the 1920s, it’s possible to see that the desire for slowing down during the 2020s stem mostly from a tiredness of the ultra-capitalistic world we live in. 

The story of Enchanted April starts during a dreary month of march. Grey. Tiring. We have all went through months like these where the responsibilities and list of things to do, and slow drag of the days gets to be unbearable. Mrs Lotty Wilkins sees an a journal advert to rent a castle in Italy for a month, and under the grey drizzling London skies. And she yearns for that moment of respite. Far from her obligations, from her nagging husband and being able to take time for herself for the first time in years. 

Eventually, four immensely different women will end up in this  castle in San Salvatore, Italy, for a whole month. Each of those women have a distinctive purpose in this book, but they all seem to be looking for something similar: an escape from their frantic and boring daily life, a relief from routine, from the lack of connection and intimacy that they feel. In the midst of those charmed italian gardens, you feel like they can finally take a breath, loosen up and rest.

«She moved about with quick, purposeful steps, her long thin body held up straight, her small face, so much puckered at home with effort and fear, smoothed out»

And just reading that, or watching the movie, gives me a similar respite. The sun lits all the shots, the wind blows gently in the tree leaves, and the clothes that are worn are looser, more comfortable. This movie is charming, humorous and delightful. But most of all, it’s slow paced and soothing. You have drawn out scenes where nothing much happens but the moments are peaceful and reassuring. I rewatch it every april, because while I cannot take a month off to spend it in an isolated italian castle, oh god I Yearn So Much For It.

Even though, this story is set during the 1920s, thus being a contemporary story written by Von Arnim, I cannot help but feel that this story is one that is still deeply relevant today, in the 2020s. The thoughts of the characters seems very familiar and relatable : «For Lady Caroline Dester, the process of change is longer, more involved, and more isolated. She approaches San Salvatore with a “dream of thirty restful, silent days, lying unmolested in the sun, getting her feathers smooth again, not being spoken to, not waited on, not grabbed at and monopolized, but just recovering from the fatigue, the deep and melancholy fatigue, of the too much”»

In Enchanted April, this month in Italy is a moment of quiet rest for these four women, bt also a time dedicated to oneself and to introspection.  «Initially, each woman desires to be alone for long stretches of time: Mrs Fisher in her room, Lady Caroline in a chair in the top garden, and Mrs Wilkins and Mrs Arbuthnot in the gardens and hills. Each is free to reflect on her life and begin to have a clearer understanding of herself in relation to others. »   

A late afternoon: 

Yasujiro Ozu (1903-1963)  is one of the prominent filmmakers in Japan during the first half of the XXth century. His movies had a very distinct style and technique to them that made his work really unique to himself. A lot of filmmakers tried to replicate or imitate the stylisation of his work, but there was something in Ozu’s work that was very particular to the period of cinema he lived in. He was active from the later half 1920s until his untimely passing on his birthday in 1963. This means he lived through the Second World War as well as through a time of great change and evolution in the world. 

It’s possible to write a hundred pages on Yasujiro Ozu alone because there’s a lot to say about him and his movies, whether it’s about the narrative and the story he chose to portray or the techniques and stylisation that characterize what is an Ozu movie.  I thought it was relevant to mention him when talking about slower movies and slower paced media,  because of the impact that he had on film, especially when it comes to using the medium to tell stories of lost and quiet moments. 

With the increased modernity and a rapidly changing world, Ozu’s films, such as Tokyo Story ( 1953), Late Spring (1949) and Floating Weeds (1959) tried to capture the very modern life he and his contemporary were experiencing and the way they dealt with these changes. Even though Ozu’s movies were particularly specific to a certain period and country, it’s indeed impossible to disassociate Ozu’s movies from the fact that they were made in Japan, and that Ozu went through the pre-war, war and post-war era and continuously made movies during these times. 

Which means that his films do reflect a certain time in Japanese history which makes them incredibly specific and contemporary to the society he lived in. «However, I believe that the film is less about articulating the value of modernity against the challenge of tradition than observing the subtle state whereby the former unknowingly pervades the latter. In this sense, rather than the overt manifestation of free movement outside of the home, the trivial motion inside the confined domesticity are a more essential element in Ozu’s films. In other words, in Ozu, modernity exists within the everyday, a stable flow that undulates but hardly overflows.» Nonetheless, the issues and subjects tackled in those movies, such as intergenerational conflict, the difficulty that people have to catch up with a world with values that are rapidly changing, and modernity. Those problems are a universal experience, but were communicated in a unique lense through Yasujiro Ozu’s movies. 

The focus of most of Ozu’s films is centered around the familial unit, and the conflicts and moments that arise between them as life moves forward. The everyday moments in a world that gets harder to navigate each day. The story of a daughter who is pressured to married, and the dilemma and conflicts between the societal expectations that people have of her, her own wants and needs and also the desire to be able to strike a balance between those two elements. I think that this, while not being necessarily being a universal experience, can still be an incredibly relatable one. 

Once she gets married, she needs to move forward with her life and leaves her widowed father to live alone, which really showcases the simple and universal realities of real life. The plotlines of Ozu’s movies focus on simple and universal conflicts and problems, the stories he tells through those movies are nonetheless things that are universal and. the way he presents them are beautiful, quiet and, most importantly, real. «More broadly, Ozu’s omission of important events also speaks to his interest in the mundane, his desire to uncover the emotional nuances within small talk, daily routines, and other “boring” details of everyday life.» 

There are quiet moments of silence, of rain falling while someone is folding clothes or eating. Laughter and companionships. Tears and pain and love and hurt and all of the very important emotions that compose the human experience.   «the great filmmaker used to evoke a sense of melancholy and poetry in everyday existence.» which is something that truly is a balm to the soul in my own humble opinion. There’s a lot of vulnerability in this slowness, a very real sadness and emotionality that is very raw and yet mundane in its encompassing universality of the human experience.

The stylistic choices that Ozu decides to take all tend toward this one goal of showcasing the quiet movement of life, while hinting at the tumultuous feelings that people might feel, and the world around them. His movies were simple and slow but very meaningful as well. «Ozu’s films often violate the stylistic conventions of mainstream filmmaking. For example, one “rule” in classical Hollywood cinema is that every shot should clearly and obviously advance the narrative. Yet Ozu’s films frequently feature what commentators call “pillow shots” – namely, shots of landscapes, objects, or interiors that have no apparent connection to the protagonists and what they’re doing plotwise.»

His movies focus on the relationships between people and the world they inhabit, and the growing modernity, and also capitalism, of it. «As you’ll quickly come to see, Ozu is hardly a fan of modernity. In films like The Only Son, Late Spring, Late Autumn, and An Autumn Afternoon, he suggests, among other things, that economic modernization has engendered inequality, feelings of alienation, empty consumerism, and the Americanization of Japanese life.» Those feelings of alienation that we currently feel toward our own lives, our own time and our own time are very relevant for us in 2020. While I do think that those movies represent a certain time and a certain context, and you cannot talk about Yasujiro Ozu without really contextualizing both him and his work, I think it can be really relevant to today. Ozu made movies for himself and for the society he lived in  but that doesn't mean that those movies can’t still be important today.

Ozu did impact international cinema, as can be seen for exemple with the movies of Wes Anderson, as seen in this visual essay that compares their body of work.  both narratively and stylistically. I won’t go into more details about Anderson here, because he is  one of my favorite directors and i hope to write an entire article on him soon, but i thought it was relevant to mention this. Most importantly, Yasujiro Ozu left an imprint on  japanese cinema that can still be seen to this day in contemporary movies. I could mention filmmakers such as Naoko Ogigami, with movies such as Rent-a-cat (2012), Close-Knit (2017) and Kamome Diner (2006), all movies that have a decidedly slower pace and kinder vibe to them. Hayao Miyazaki and the movies Studio Ghibli produced also are an example of that slower cinema, but we’ll touch upon this a bit further down the line. 

(rent-a-cat [2012] d. Naoko Ogigami)

a little world of our own 

With this in mind, it’s easy to see that there’s a sub-genre of japanese cinema that really make a concerted effort at incorporating the concepts of slowness in their stories, whether it's the slower pace of the story or actual slow living principles. Those movies often address the fantasy of leaving everything behind (your work, your problems, your issues, your sadness) to go live in a small town or quitting your job to follow your dreams, or simply to feel like your time is yours again. This list on letterboxd which showcases many movies of that genre in japanese cinema (currently 157 movies on date of writing this article) 

A good example of this type of stories would be the duology of  the Little Forest movies, as well as the subsequent korean adaptation in 2018. These movies were both adapted originally from a manga by Daisuke Igarashi.  Little Forest : Summer/Autumn (2014) and Little Forest : Winter/Spring (2015) follow the story of a young woman who leaves her busy city life to go back to her hometown and decides to live in a slower way, taking care of her vegetables and living according to the seasons.  The two movies are infinitely slow, focusing on the main character cooking, resting, eating, and eventually resolving the conflict that she has with her mother. The life she lives in these secluded parts seems uneventful but happy and calm which seems all that she desires. She doesn’t need to contribute to the capitalist system of society to be deserving of being able to live in peace, and this makes her feel less alienated from the world she lives in. 

Spirited away

I also don’t think it’s really possible to mention slower moments of everyday life in cinema without talking about the movies that probably were the first introduction to this for many of us. The movies of Studio Ghibli, with Hayao Miyazaki at the helm of it, are little masterpieces of animation. The movies are intended for a younger audience but can be appreciated by everyone. Studio Ghibli movies are another example of filmmaking that manages to capture this slower pace in media. Between all of the adventures and events that are happening in those movies, there are moments of slowness. Of calm. Of quietness.

As Robert Ebert told to Miyazaki, during an interview with him « I told Miyazaki I love the "gratuitous motion" in his films; instead of every movement being dictated by the story, sometimes people will just sit for a moment, or they will sigh, or look in a running stream, or do something extra, not to advance the story but only to give the sense of time and place and who they are.» Miyazaki proceeded to explain what this concept was for him  «"We have a word for that in Japanese," he said. "It's called ma. Emptiness. It's there intentionally."» Those slow moments between the action are very deliberate, to slow down the story and to slow down the pace. Contrary to the generally accepted school of thought in modern Hollywood cinema, which is that every single scene needs to move the story forward, Miyazaki lets his story and movies breathe. This way of building the story gives it an added sense of calm and soothingness, but also it gives it another sense of realism. Instead of following a strict narrative outline, this fluidity makes the story feel more real and relatable.

Despite being an animated movie set in a very obviously fantastical universe, Studio Ghibli movies tend to be very realistic in the way they portray the characters, their complexity, and also what are the real underlying conflicts. For example, in Kiki’s Delivery Service (1989) «The primary conflict isn’t about magic—it’s internal and invisible and wholly human: Kiki’s brief period of lost motivation and artist’s block. She gets it back when she wants to help Tombo, whom she loves. Simple as that. She doesn’t have to wage an epic battle to prove her worth»  The stakes might seem lower in this movie, very mundane and ordinary but I think this is what makes it so special. 

The quiet moments and details that might seem innocuous and useless at first and slower the pace of the movie in itself, are ultimately what gives it this feeling of genuineness. It lets the characters and the plot have the space to evolve and to grow. 

« Although these scenes may seem slow or unimportant, they give space to develop the characters and to heighten dreams or feelings the characters are having such as feelings of isolation, wonder, or anxiety. It is in these moments of stillness that the audience can contemplate with the characters and feel what the characters are feeling. These moments remind the audience the importance of stillness in such a fast paced world and highlights the beauty of a slower paced life»

Studio Ghibli movies insert those slower moments in between more faster paced and action packed scenes but also in the midst of world-changing events such as wars, as shown in Howl’s Moving Castle (2004). This demonstrate how people still live on during those crises, even with the danger looming over their heads. Which is something that I think can be very relevant in today’s time where the past twenty years have been increasingly more unstable and the … few months of 2020 were a Shit Show in itself, if you want my opinion. So this kind of media gives me hope that we can live through this, that moments of happiness and peace are still to be found.

A charmed life

Slower cinema is something that has existed for as long as cinema existed, but I do think that it’s a very current feeling to want to be able to slow down the pace of our lives, and be able to enjoy time in a more meaningful way. Personally, I know life has gotten ridiculously hectic for me in the past two years, and while there’s a lot I always want to be doing and I’m very happy about how my life is coming together, this doesn’t mean that sometimes, it doesn’t feel Very Overwhelming and alienating to constantly feel the need to be productive. What we can bring to the capitalist system isn’t what determine the worth and value of who we are as people. «"As speed is seemingly equated with efficiency and professionalism, however, slowness can become a way of signaling an alternative set of values or a refusal to privilege the workplace over other domains of life.”» I hope to be able to live my life on my own term and to be able to spend time on things that are important to me and feel like my time is my own.

Slow media is everywhere lately, whether it’s in cinema, books, games, but also in a more broader sense with the slow life movements, the minimalist trends, but also a general awareness of sustainability, the amount of mass production and mass consumerism in our modern world. 

In order to sustain that fast pace of constant production of things, you inevitably have to sacrifice on either the quality of the product, the work conditions  or on the materials in order to be able to keep up with the extremely high rhythm sustained by capitalism. It can also be compared to the fast work pace imposed on people who work on the sets of movies or video games for example. I think we all heard of the debacle with the Sonic (2020) movie as well as Cats (2019) and the pressure that was put upon the vfx artists to re-do the movie and complete it extremely fast, which brought poor working conditions on them.

Slowing down is, in my opinion, of the utmost importance for us to be able to live better, but also to be able to do better things. To have better working conditions, to be able to have a better craftsmanship, people having more time to do things and do them better instead of scrambling to constantly catch up to a production rhythm that is just simply way too fast. This ties in with the environmental aspect of slowing down, because if you take more time to make things that are of a better quality and that will last for a long time, there won’t be such a  need for a constant production of those things but unfortunately that’s capitalism Babey. 

a quiet respite

Ultimately, the act of slowing down and taking a stand against the fast pace imposed on us by the constraints of capitalism is a very personal one, but I think it's worth considering. And when it’s not possible to actually slow down, I hope those movies and these slower medias can give you a respite even if life isn’t giving you much of one. I do think that having the opportunity to meaningfully slow down the pace of your life, and taking the time to think, breathe, and reconnect with the more mundane parts of your life can be beneficial, especially when there’s a constant pressure to perform and to excel in this fast-paced modern life.

I just hope we can try to take care of ourselves deeply, connect with ourselves but also with each other. We need time to feel, breathe and actually live and not just beat to the drum of a corporation and of this sadistic capitalist system who will never care for you.  Corporations do not want you to slow down and they want to get your money by any means necessary, which we have obviously witnessed a lot during this Global Pandemic. Which is why I think there's a real pushback against this fast pace of life and the mass consumerism, by slowing down, 

On this note, i hope you appreciated the article, i hope you are taking care of yourself during those hard times and i hope the media you are consuming is something that makes you feel better, and i hope you don't put too much pressure on yourself. 

please just breathe. hopefully it will be okay.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Slow Life & Slow Cinema : 

Matthew Flanagan. 'Slow Cinema': Temporality and Style in Contemporary Art and Experimental Film. University of Exeter as a thesis for the degree of Doctor of Philosophy in English in October 2012.

ZEESTRATEN, J.  Strolling to the beat of another drum: Living the ‘Slow Life’, Master’s Thesis, Lincoln University, 2008.  <https://pdfs.semanticscholar.org/e0c6/f533e7d8f9254eddbadc0fe6dbb7d4a5ea8c.pdf > 

SCREENING BOREDOM THE HISTORY AND AESTHETICS OF SLOW CINEMA Orhan Emre Çağlayan. A Thesis submitted for the degree of Doctor of Philosophy in Film Studies University of Kent February 2014

ELSON, Logan. Slow Cinema Modality: Applying Bordwell to Tsai Ming-Liang,  Trent University, JUST, Vol. V, No. 1, 2017

LAVIN, Mathias. Prolonger Ozu, avec Kiarostami, Akerman, Hong Sang-Soo.

FLANAGAN, Matthew. Towards an Aesthetic of Slow in Contemporary Cinema, 16:9, 2020 <http://www.16-9.dk/2008-11/side11_inenglish.htm>

RASSOS, Effie. Everyday Narratives Reconsidering Filmic Temporality and Spectatorial Affect through the Quotidian, A Thesis Submitted in Fulfilment of the Requirements for the Degree of Doctor of Philosophy School of Media, Film and Theatre University of New South Wales August 2005

LETTERBOXD. The Absolute Beauty in Everyday’s Mundanity. Hungkat, 2020. <https://letterboxd.com/kun/list/the-absolute-beauty-in-everydays-mundanity/>

LETTERBOXD. A Slice of Japanese Life. Seraphimjc, 2020.  <https://letterboxd.com/seraphimjc/list/a-slice-of-japanese-life>/

Enchanted April:

BOLLARD, Jennifer Jane. The Felicitous Space of Elizabeth von Arnim,  Master’s Thesis, University of Canterbury Christchurch,  New Zealand,  1995 ,  <https://ir.canterbury.ac.nz/bitstream/handle/10092/11887/Bollard_thesis.pdf;sequence=>

VON ARNIM, Elizabeth. Enchanted April,  Waking Lion Press, 2008 (first published 1922)

YOUNG, Katie Elizabeth. More than "Wisteria and Sunshine": The Garden as a Space of Female Introspection and Identity in Elizabeth von Arnim' s The Enchanted April and Vera, Master’s Thesis. Brigham Young University, 2011. < https://scholarsarchive.byu.edu/cgi/viewcontent.cgi?article=4032&context=etd>

Yasujiro Ozu:

The Cinema Cartography,  Yasujirō Ozu - The Depth of Simplicity, Youtube video, 2015 <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2G7oeyOsfSg>

JOO, Woojeong, The flavour of tofu : Ozu, history and the representation of the everyday. PhD thesis, University of Warwick, 2011.

BETH, Suzanne. Destruction, puissance et limites du cinéma dans les films d'Ozu Yasujirô, Doctorate Thesis, Université de Montréal, 2015.  <https://papyrus.bib.umontreal.ca/xmlui/bitstream/handle/1866/13600/Beth_Suzanne_2015_these.pdf?sequence=2&isAllowed=y>

EMERSON, Andrew.  The Beginner’s Guide: Yasujiro Ozu, Director, The Film Inquiry, 2019

<https://www.filminquiry.com/beginners-guide-yasujiro-ozu/>

Criterion. The Signature Style of Yasujiro Ozu. On film. 2015 <https://www.criterion.com/current/posts/3836-the-signature-style-of-yasujiro-ozu>

  Thompson, pp. 19-20, 327-331; David Bordwell, Ozu and the Poetics of Cinema (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1988), pp. 73-74.

CATLEY, Anna. Wes Anderson & Yasujiro Ozu: A Visual Essay, Youtube, 2015.  <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rbXRpiVO1po >

Little Forest:

SREEKANDAN, Nikhil , Little Forest: Film Review , The Inkline, 2018. <https://the-inkline.com/2018/06/17/little-forest-film-review/>

https://snackfever.com/blogs/magazine/a-refreshing-cool-breeze-found-in-the-little-forest

Studio Ghibli:

EBERT, Robert. Hayao Miyazaki interview. 2002. <https://www.rogerebert.com/interviews/hayao-miyazaki-interview>

The Magic and Artistry of Studio Ghibli’s Films, The Artifice, 2017 <https://the-artifice.com/magic-artistry-studio-ghibli-films/>

JAREMKO-GREENWOLD, Anya. The Low-Stakes Pleasure of Kiki’s Delivery’s Service. on Birth, Movies, Death, 2017. <birthmoviesdeath.com/2017/07/18/the-low-stakes-pleasure-of-kikis-delivery-service>

STEY, George Andrew.. Elements of Realism in Japanese Animation, Master’s Thesis, University of Ohio, 2009. <https://etd.ohiolink.edu/!etd.send_file?accession=osu1250700496&disposition=inline>

Cottagecore:

SKELLEY, Jemima. Cottagecore Is the Soothing Online Aesthetic We All Need Right Now, The Latch, 2020. <https://thelatch.com.au/cottagecore-aesthetic/>

HAASCH, Palmer. People online are flocking to 'cottagecore,' an online aesthetic that idealizes agricultural life, to calm their hyper-stimulated nerves, The Insider, 2020. <https://www.insider.com/cottagecore-isolation-aesthetic-tumblr-explained-social-distancing-2020-4>

SLONE, Isabel. Escape Into Cottagecore, Calming Ethos for Our Febrile Moment, New York Times, 2020. < https://www.nytimes.com/2020/03/10/style/cottagecore.html>

animal crossing: 

VINCENT, Britanny. Find fulfillment in Animal Crossing New Horizons' slice-of-life gameplay, CNN underscored., 2020https://www.cnn.com/2020/03/30/cnn-underscored/animal-crossing-new-horizons-review/index.html

WEBSTER, Andrew. ANIMAL CROSSING: NEW HORIZONS IS A CHILL, CHARMING LIFE SIM THAT PUTS YOU IN CONTROL, The Verge, 2020.  <https://www.theverge.com/2020/3/16/21179238/animal-crossing-new-horizons-review-nintendo-switch-features>

[borrovved]

Off Season

kinda like that one taylor swift song but not really, promise. instead, it involves basketball

jaehyun x reader

have I mentioned I'm a band nerd ;)

word count: 2,405

One of the redeeming qualities about your school was most definitely not the class average attendance or the sports teams lack of winning streaks, but hey, give all the money and glory and attention to them and leave the fine arts kids out of it. Are you pissed? Oh, most certainly.

There's little to no funds for the art class, drama class, choir class, and most certainly not the band. At least it's not like one of those cliche movies where you guys are bullied. It's better, no one pays attention to you. It's honest to God good that no one pays attention to students like you, because the popular kids are always caught up in their own petty shit. The dumbest of all shits. Who sent nudes to who, who started liking pictures of who, who's eating lunch with who, who shaded who on who's Snapchat story. Like, who gives a damn?

You can at least appreciate the pom and cheer squad because it's not like you can dance or do flips like they do, and at least they can win something. The football team on the other hand, is a complete joke. There has not been one single game last year where they've won. Not. A. Single. One. Even after they lose you have to play the fight song. The best part is that you get to play the song really slowly when they get obliterated. Nine points to fifty-four. It's incredibly pitiful.

Even after football season is over, you still have to play pep tunes for your mediocre team: the basketball team. At least they're not as bad as the football team and can come close to winning, and actually do it, sometimes. The girls' basketball team is playing and they're doing pretty well. Ten points ahead of the visitors. It's halftime, you don't know how the hell the game works, but you're having fun. You're singing "Hey Baby" like it's your last (because it is, senior year baby!) and you feel like you're having the time of your life, on this Friday night.

Your friends snuck in some Dr. Pepper into the stands and you have to drink some water first in order to not wreck the insides of your clarinet. You have 15 minutes to yourself, so you head to the water fountain. You make your way out of the gym, and you see Jaehyun and Chittaphon talking to each other in the hall way. You make sure to take a quick peak at Jaehyun in his basketball uniform without being obvious. If the football team's players are a snack, this guy is a whole ass meal.

He's almost six feet tall, has nice, muscular arms, and a lean body. You have history class with him and he sits right next to you, and you have Johnny sitting right in front of you. Jaehyun constantly has his body facing towards Johnny, considering he is his only friend in history. It gets kinda annoying when they don't shut up and Johnny has to ask you what the teacher was saying, but when Jaehyun asks, your heart might just burst.

He always speaks in a soft voice and taps your shoulder when he needs something. One day he needed a pencil, which is unfortunately the one day you woke up late and forgot to wear a bra and pack your regular clothes to change into after 7 AM marching rehearsals, so you sported a wrinkly, loose tank top and running shorts the whole day.

"Hey, I left my pencil bag at home while revising for the Socratic Seminar, do you have an extra pencil I can borrow?"

Your eyes widen and you always get shocked when he asks you for stuff instead of Johnny, because it's not like you guys are close or anything. It doesn't help that the teacher put the air conditioner on full blast and his warm, soft fingertips leaves your shoulder and heart ablaze.

"Y-yeah! I only use mechanical pencils so I hope you don't mind." You bend down and start digging in your backpack only to hear Johnny snicker in front of you. At first you ignore it because it's Johnny, and the little (pretty gigantic) shithead laughs at everything, like the pictures of nude statues your teacher took during her trip to Italy. It's only when Jaehyun tells him to "stop staring" when you realize what exactly he's laughing at. It's also then that you realize Jaehyun has a perfectly clear view of the predicament you're in, with the room being cold, you practically giving him a free show, and now that you look down, there's a bit of fake grass down there too. When you're in marching band and have to rehearse every morning for two hours, bits and pieces of the turf from the football field starts to collect in your clothes and then you end up having your own little football field.

Damn, do wish I could choke on those turf turds and never have to think of this day ever again. But no, it gets even better. Jaehyun is polite enough to look at the board and pretend whatever happened just now didn't, and when you finally hand him your pencil, he does something that makes your insides turn in twists and makes your cheeks and ears feel hot. He takes off the jacket he has on and drapes it over your shoulders, and gently places his thumb on your collarbone to sweep the little artificial blade of grass off.

Johnny whistles lowly and Jaehyun hits his shoulder hard enough for him to wince, and looks at you with a sincere smile, dimples and all, and says to you "You can wear the hoodie all day if you want to, I don't need it."

You can't tell if you're living in a fantasy at this moment and you just stare at him and say, "You can keep the pencil all day too." You must be seeing things because you see a faint rosy color collect on his cheeks.

After using the water fountain, you're lost in thought about what happened that day and how dreamy and cliche it all was. You're still lost in thought, and when you turn around you bump into someone, with your face burrowed into someone's (might you add) strong chest.

You look up and almost come stumbling down after being taken aback that Jaehyun is the one you bumped into, and he has a strong hold of your arms to keep you steady.

"You okay there?" You like to consider yourself level headed and not easily swooned by a cute face, but his parted hair and sparkly brown eyes is making you melt, and your band polo is just making you warmer as each second passes while his arms are still around you.

"I'm okay now." You smile hoping that he would just let go already because you are this close to sharting yourself. He puts his arms to his sides and steps aside from you to let you go around him and he gets to the water fountain. You're walking away as fast but casually as possible when you hear him talking to Chittaphon again.

"For a band nerd she's kinda cute, huh?"

"Ten, shut up."

"So you do think she's cute!"

-

The girls' portion of the game is over, with a tie in the end. The boys are up next in ten minutes.

You come back sweating just a teensy beensy bit after the awkward encounter into bumping into Jaehyun, trying to act normal as you slide into the bleachers next to your best friends Doyoung and Yeri. Yeri hands you back your clarinet paying no mind to your expression. Doyoung doesn't miss the flushed look on your face and pesters you about it.

"Did you see him or something? You look like a tomato."

"Thanks Doyoung. Yes, I did. It was awkward and I don't want to think about it." Yeri's ears perk up and faces her whole body to you.

"Well, now you have to, spill." She says. You try to keep your eyes on the leaderboard but instead have it locked on Jaehyun, seeing him stretch.

"You're drooling dear." She giggles. You hit Yeri in the arm and Doyoung laughs.

"Am not!"

"Are too!"

"Guys, the game is about to start." Doyoung whispers. Your band directors have been keeping a close eye on the band to see if you were paying attention or not. Not because they care about the game necessarily, but because playing pep tunes in time the home team scores a point is important. "Loses the effect" if you're seconds late he says.

All these games you've been forced to go to as a band student never interested you, and you never understood what the hell was going on anyways. The only interesting thing was seeing Jaehyun score points.

"You're being so obvious." says Doyoung.

"Suck my left ass cheek." you say in response.

"You fucking wish." You hit him in the arm and Yeri just laughs. You don't know where you would be without your companions.

-

The game ends with the boys' team winning (about time.) By then it's 10 pm, you're tired, your friends are tired, and you have a clarinet lesson tomorrow in the morning. You just want to skidaddle outta there as fast as you can, but thank goodness you took your time walking and talking with Doyoung and Yeri, otherwise, Jaehyun might've missed the chance to talk to you.

You shoot daggers at Doyoung when you hear him snicker. Yeri gives you a thumbs up while they both watch you gawk at Jaehyun. That boy is truly Adonis reincarnated, hell, perhaps even better.

"I wanted to say sorry for bumping into you earlier and-" you blink back in surprise. Shouldn't this be the other way around? You were the one daydreaming and being distracted.

"I'm sorry to interrupt Jaehyun but, I feel like I'm the one that should apologize. I was the one spacing out and bumped into you.”

“To be totally real with you, I just needed an excuse to talk to you, regardless if it’s your fault or not...which I don’t think it is anyways, but I digress.” you just blink blankly at him.

“Uhm..okay. What is it you wanted to say?” you ask.

“Would you like to go on a date with me?”

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Yeri smacking her hands and jumping up and down with Doyoung trying to grab her arm to make sure the two of them are out of sight of Jaehyun so they don’t embarrass you. You’ll need to thank Doyoung later.

“I’m really flattered, but why me exactly?” Now it’s Jaehyun’s turn to stare at you blankly.

“Because you’re cute, for one, and you seem like a good time. I’ve been meaning to ask you for a while but couldn’t find the guts to actually ask.” he laughs under his breath while scratching the back of his head.

“Yes.” you say.

“Wait, what?” he says dumbfounded. It physically hurts Doyoung to overhear how slow you guys are to put two and two together and realize you like each other already.

“Yeah, I’d actually love to go on a date with you.”

Jaehyun smiles that precious dimpled smile and says “I’ll text you when I’m picking you up.”

“You know my number?”

He chuckles awkwardly. “I had to ask one of your friends for it because of how shy I was.” You whip your head around to see Yeri and Doyoung scurrying off to the band room. You really need to thank them later. Perhaps yell at them for giving out your private information like that, but definitely thank them.

“I have to get back to my friends, but I’ll reply when you message me Jaehyun.” Before he even has the chance to say anything else, you’re catching up to Yeri and Doyoung to give them a piece of your mind.

-

The next day rolls around and you're a little drained from your morning lesson. Trying to play F above the staff in tune is probably the most vigorous physical activities you've ever done. You can march all day, eyes closed while using backwards technique, but an F above the staff is something else.

The night before was also draining, considering you stayed up really late at night to wait for Jaehyun's text. You figured his friends dared to ask you out, something like that, because why would a boy that handsome and popular ask you out? Fortunate, very fortunate, that you didn't fall asleep just yet, because when 12:30 AM rolls around, that's when you hear the high pitched ping.

Jaehyun: sorry for texting late! I hope you're not asleep or anything. I just got back from having celebratory pizza with the team. :P

You: Nah, I was just scrolling through my phone haha, I sleep super late because of band and procrastination. Also, don't you have an iPhone? Why are you using regular emoticons lol

Jaehyun: :D well I'm glad you asked. I just find them cuter lmao

Jaehyun: Like you

You would like to think you're a reasonable person. A reasonable person who sees a good opportunity and takes it. This moment is an example of a good opportunity to flirt back. Did you do it? No, instead you were spazzing out on your bed while texting in the group chat for you, Yeri, and Doyoung about the screenshot you just took of the convo with Jaehyun. Precious time spent on spazzing was wasted. A winky face would have sufficed, but no, you just had to react like any teenage girl in some dumb book. Jaehyun changes the subject after exactly 6 minutes of waiting for your reply.

Jaehyun: Does 6 pm sound good for our date?

You: totally

Definitely didn't sound like a surfer just then

Jaehyun: (typing)

At this moment, Jaehyun was deciding whether or not to call you babe and say goodnight. He was typing for so long that you started to panic (for no reason at all.) If your heart wasn't already racing any further, good thing Ten was sleeping over at Jaehyun's and leaning over his shoulder the whole time, because he pressed send.

Jaehyun: That's cool, see you then babe. Night :)

Needless to say, Yeri and Doyoung were blowing up the groupchat after your screenshot.

A/N: what do you guys think? please send commentary, it would mean very much! I’ll be making part 2...at some point.

[spacegaywritings]

Communication of Silence - Chapter 11 Spi(c)es

Logan and Virgil are at work together but have different shifts at the library. Virgil gets to leave earlier and grabs some food with Remy. Roman makes interesting discoveries and does not know what to feel about it but he is sure Virgil is shadier than he lets on at first glance.

TW: food mentions/eating, working, watching other people, therapy talks, implications of insomnia/ED etc, Roman being a bit radical and protective, slightly stalkerish? and creepy roman, Virgil being shady af (aka dealing drugs, implied)

Tell me if you need me to tag any more than this!

Virgil uses he/they pronouns (for the day) in that chapter so the pronoun use is split for a reason. Yes, they do that for a reason. Just read on, it should be a topic later ao3 link *clicky* read under the cut:

A yawn could be heard and Virgil rubbed the sleepy tears from his eyes. Work was almost over for him and he had barely gotten any sleep after whatever this shitty thing had been with Logan.

The nerd was in the break room working on some project for one of his classes while Virgil had to take the front desk. One of their colleagues had just arrived and was getting ready in the back so they would be able to take Virgil’s part.

Only a few more minutes and Virgil would be on his way to leave. Today was one of the rare days during which he could not even relax with the smell of books surrounding him. A book on folklores from all over the globe was on his lap but he had not bothered turning the page in a long time. By now, it was more decoration than anything else. It was a comforting weight on top of that.

Another yawn caught him and he squeezed his eyes shut and covered his mouth for he was in public and attempted to maintain proper behaviour. However, it did not seem to be enough for some people.

“Dear gosh, this is so rude! Do you greet every costumer like that?”

Ah, that sound. It was the all too familiar noise of annoyance embodied by an actual person. He would have wished to call her a boomer but she was not. She looked like a woman in her uh.... late 30s, maybe fourties. Someone who decided to re-evaluate her life and start studying again even though it was lat. Nothing wrong with that but some people forgot that this was literally a bunch of tired student helping over tired students during the phase of upcoming deadlines for finals, assignments and other kinds of projects.

And there was a slender woman. Taller than him, rather fair skinned in nature but seemingly tanned by artificial help. Wasn’t tan actual damage to the skin? Why would that look healthy to anyone? Society was so weird and he was sure Logan had taught him that shit when they compared their skin colours at some point when working together on putting books into their respective places. (Nobody thought it was fair that Virgil would not put books away since he was small and he did not mean getting some help if it meant not sitting at the help desk and interact with people who smelled of desperation or entitlement at worst.) Virgil barely got to forcefully shut his own jaw and stop the yawn. Uncomfortable.

The woman was already ranting. For the sake of it, the emo just named her Karen. If he had to deal with her, he might as well try to mentally make it a bit more humorous.

He leaned back. On the outside, he seemed okay, awfully calm and probably just sleepy. The woman seemed to hate it and her head was already red as she demanded some book. He could not even ask which one it was because she rapidly blabbered herself into rage.

Did she even want help?

“Um, like.. What do you want?”

Karen had taken one moment to breathe in and Virgil was quick to slip a bookmark between the pages he had long given up on. He had spoken now and taken the wind out of her sails.

Her glossy, empty cans of eyes stared into him without any sense of understanding.

“Excuse me?”

Virgil supported his arm on his elbow and let his chin rest on his outstretched palm. He was not made for costumer interaction. Was it even a costumer? He did not exactly get money from them unless they had to pay overdue loan fees for keeping books for too long.

“I asked you what you want. You kinda talked for like”, he moved his left hand in a circle as if to show that it was an estimate rather than an actual calculation, “two minutes or something.” He shrugged. “Keep it short, it is 2 in the afternoon and I have no attention span for people yelling at me in a library.”

His voice sharpened at the end as to give an extra emphasis to the word library because it was a place of being silent. She was anything but silent.

The woman let out an unholy shriek and her angry eyes narrowed as she tried to eat his poor unfortunate soul.

“You are not listening to me and then you even dare to be this rude to me, a costumer? The costumer is always right and you suck at your job! If you keep up your shitty attitude, I will tell your manager and get you fired.”

Virgil sighed.

“I still do not know what you want. Do you want to return a book, request the library to get a special book or do you want to loan anything? Do you need help finding a book? You know, there is a computer that does not talk back at you, if you want to try with that.”

He pointed towards a row of computers, some of them having special signs to indicate that they were without internet access but only served as means to navigate around the library and find certain books.

Somehow, that must have been the most offensive couple of words ever used around the woman. She seemed to puff up in anger, her hair curling a bit and her face tinting a reddish shade.

“How dare you! You are being so rude! I thought student knew better than to disrespect their elders!”

She went on saying that she wanted to see his manager, had never been mistreated like this before and found it to be an “audacity” to be disregarded like that. Suddenly she started dashing out claims of having been insulted and discriminated against.

Virgil sighed and checked the clock. Yeah, two minutes. It was time to go and he was sure Tiara was gonna be there any second now. He rose to his feet and picked up his bag.

“Where are you going, young man?”

Ugh.. that card... He barely spared her a glance and pocketed his book.

“My shift is over and you are my colleague’s problem now.”

The small student put his bag on and blinked at her before he left his desk. His sass sparked the explosion.

“I want to speak to your manager right now! I am going to get your little ass kicked you stupid -”

She never got around to finishing this sentence but he was sure she was going to say something racist, funnily enough. But glory had it, someone behind her cleared his throat and adjusted his sunglasses.

“Ma’am”, the taller man spoke. He was probably taller because of his hair standing up.

“I am the manager and I am afraid I need you to leave. If you resist, I will ban you from this location and inform campus security about your disturbing presence.”

The woman turned around. Upon seeing the man in a leather jacket and sunglasses, she frowned.

“You are the manager?”

Her words sounded like the hiss of a snake that just met their worst enemy. Eyes narrowed, she focused on the slightly smaller man than him who just nodded towards Virgil.

“Ma’am, I asked you to leave the property. Virgil, I think you need to inform security and help this lady out”, he started and leaned in a bit, his voice just turning a bit sharper than his words already were. “Tell them to inform the police for resistance.”

By now, her head was redder than a glowing fire. She was smoking about as much. Virgil tried to look as nonchalant as ever when he picked up the phone, face unbiased as if he had never picked a side in his life.

The woman let out another screech of fury. It sounded a bit like an angry Chihuahua, ready to eat your fingercap off your hand without hesitation. She was dead serious but so was the manager. Virgil started dialing and clicked his tongue, his dark eyes looking past her raging form.

When he opened his mouth, she stomped her foot and hurried off, he gloomy eyes shooting daggers at the leather-clad man for another moment before she stomped through the library and back outside again.

Virgil immediately dropped the phone and put everything away, his hands rushed as if he was handling hot potatoes.

“Fuckfuckfuck, what if she gets me fired!?”

He ran his hands through his hair, calming the heat and dissipating the energy in his sudden kick of anxiety. The man with the sunglasses walked over and pouted at him.

“Really, you are going to panic before you even greet me? I expected better from you”, he whined and stretched out his arms to take Virgil’s bag. “That bitch cannot do shit and she totally believed I am the manager. Did you see her panic when I mentioned the police? I fucking broker her, like, TBH she will not come back when you are around again.”

His shoulders flexed under the black fabric of his heavy jacket. Eyes rolled under his sunglasses that he wore despite the rather cozy dimness within the building. Outside, it was cloudy and horridly white but there was no sun to illuminate the day. Still, looking up into the sky would hurt worse than looking into the warmth of the sun for just a moment.

“Come on, you don’t need that job anyway and you can get other jobs if she really gets through with this”, he nudged the other who just looked up at him, eyes swollen in worry and decidedly looking at the other, then past him. He made the impression there was something to look out for. “Also, I fucking killed that performance. I want a bit of recognition here.”

He sing-sang his latter sentence, the words and notes wrapping around Virgil and softly pushing him closer to the taller person.

The emo caved.

“Ri, I swear you are going to be the death of me.”

He stepped into the other and just threw his hands around him.

“Whatever the fuck. You are right or whatever. I don’t care. Fuck work, fuck Karen.”

Virgil nudged Remy’s shoulder and started walking towards the exit.

“Karen? That was her name? You know why she was here? Did she come before? She sounded gosh-fucking-awful.”

The younger of the two chuckled and walked them out.

“Do I need to teach you memes, too? Am I obligated to explain every bit of Gen Z culture to you?”

The taller one inhaled the air in offence, one hand on his chest as he slowly craned his head to look at Virgil, his mouth agape in utter shock at the rude betrayal. He got as far as to slide his shades up to his head where it rested in his dark brown hair.

“Gurl, did you just fucking straight up and murder me after I saved your ass from that suburban super mom-monster?”

The student pushed the door open for them and took the time to shoot Remy an arrogant glare.

“Thank you, oh holy knight but I do not need to be saved by some random dude. Believe it or not, I would have handled that. It is the end of my shift and I was about to stall for time.”

Remy shook his head. Before he could try and bite back another comment, Virgil was already speaking again.

“Anyway, your performance did NOT suck, so I guess you are still allowed to call yourself a thespian or actress or whatever you wanna use... “, his voice dropped from high amusement down to sincere interest, “do you feel the actor today? Or, like, just Remy?”

The actor hugged Virgil’s side and blinked slowly as they walked back to his office.

“I am gonna be your brother today. What about you? Are you feeling a sister in you? A sibling or are you my brother as usual?”

This time, he stretched out his hands to open the door.

“Uh.. I mean, .. “, the other started but broke off as he quickly ducked down and walked into the office without missing another beat. Once inside, he shrugged and sat down onto the less cluttered side of Remy’s highly professional desk. “I dunno, man. I am just a thing, I guess”

Remy nodded and gave his sibling their things.

“Ah, alright, thank you for these clear words, Misc “I can stand up for myself” Lee.”

The other reacted with nothing more than a scoff.

“Whatever, just get lunch with me. Any suggestions?”

They pulled out their phone and started typing away on it, pulling up the email app he needed to compute a text to his therapist. If he was lucky, he would get some dismissed appointment and during winter time, maybe he was actually that lucky.

“I talked to your boyfriend, you know”, Remy started and Virgil waved him off.

“I am literally messaging her right now, can you calm down? I am about to go eat with you and you can take a picture if that makes you happy. Don’t get on my ass, I am.. I am trying..”

Virgil sighed and pressed “send” without reading over it or adding these funky “sincerely, yours” words and all that shit. They were not exactly in the mood to discuss the whole thing again. Their mood was already sore enough from everything that had happened before.

“Then she probably told you that I am okay and panicked enough over that. I am trying, okay? Just leave me be and get stupid food with me.” They sighed and threw their phone over. “Please.”

Remy caught the flying device with coordinated hands and skilled fingers. With one simple motion, he fastened his grip around the phone and glared back at Virgil.

“Don’t throw your shit, kid”, he warned them but did not intend to go any further than this. His eyes glanced over the shiny display. With how they used their things and just threw them around, it was a miracle this thing was still intact - at least from what it looked like on the outside. Then again, water damage was more likely than cracking the display, seeing that Virgil was almost constantly on their phone and texting him or other people.

The display was shining brightly into Remy’s face in the unlit office of his.

“Why do you need to have such a high brightness when you work in a library?”

Remy sighed and squinted before letting his shades return to the bridge of his nose. The tinted glasses did their job in making sight a bit more bearable and less painful. It was almost as if looking at bright things did not make his eyes sting dully and his head contract in pain.

In front of his eyes was a white bunch of nothing and some meek, black letters. An email to Virgil’s therapist. Well, it was not the therapist directly but it was the receptionist who was to plan and manage their therapist’s schedule.

“The library is not a dark cave, stop pretending the world is as dark as it looks from watching it through your dumb shades”, Virgil shot back casually as they fidgeted with their hands, fingers pushing together for no reason and curling up together. If they were longer, they would definitely get tied up like wild, cooked noodles. “Also, I am literally sitting right underneath a bigass lamp at the front desk. The shelves are a bit better when you are in the section with that fuckton of heavy books nobody wants to touch unless they are forced to.”

Ah, yes.

“You don’t have to show me. You are an adult and I trust you to do the right thing.”

They scoffed but left the comment unreviewed safe for a quick glance at Remy over their brow for less than a split moment. He almost thought it was nothing but imagined because he would expect them to do that.

The smaller of the two took their phone back and scrolled through it. Their fingers seemed a bit more at rest but they still rubbed over the display as if an apocalypse of message had just exploded in their notification feed. For sure, it was unlikely to get so many messages at once but Remy did not mind the quirks too much.

“Riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii”

The student finally put their phone aside and let their nickname for Remy be stretched longer than wet and sugary sweet gum for kids. The one you would use to make really big bubbles before popping them in one wet and lazy sound. Feet swung forward and fell back against the side of the desk with a dull ‘clung’.

The addressed person angled his shades. His eyes were spitting salt at the other.

“Bitch, now you are going all sweet on me -”

“I will get food without you, hoe, I just want to get it done, come ooooon!”

He could not exactly argue with that. Considering Virgil sucked at eating food, at least they seemed to get this issue together around Remy. Possibly, their body just registered that being around him meant eating anyway so there was no faking it away and skipping meals and missing carbs and minerals.

It felt funny to think about it in this way. Honestly, he would not mind it if it was that way. At least then Virgil at properly at regularly.

But threatening to throw off their lunch tradition? Unbelievable.

Virgil took a threatening step down and stood by their words. They were getting their bag.

“If ya don’t hurry, I can get you something - preferences? Disgusting food? Fake Asian food fusion imitation? Weird fruits? Vegan healthy smoothie shit?”

Remy clicked his tongue but held up his hand for a moment to signal his need of time. Then he bent over to get his purse.

“Shut up, it is my treat. I might have eaten your job after all.”

The professor clicked a turn into the ground with his vocal heels and strove for the exit of his office. Virgil was quick to follow behind. When he opened the door and closed it again, he did not notice Roman just a bit away, on the staircase. He had come to find Professor Archimeda after all.

***

”Got it all?”

Virgil’s eyes rolled behind Remy, nearly turning back into the back of their head but they stayed put - as loyal and reliable as always.

“Yeah, just fucking chill for one moment in your existence”

They trailed behind him with the bags of food in their annoyed hands. Remy kept turning around to look at them, checking whether they were there, whether the food was there.

“Like you have to be talking, honestly”

Remy’s voice was so flat, it could barely be taken as more than a joke despite it being drier than any sand-dominated desert could ever be. Virgil snorted at the familiar salty flavour of his response.

“I am not going to disappear and neither is the food, seriously, I mean, you can hear me walking behind you. It is not that much of a big deal. I am just carrying the bags, calm your protective instincts, princess.”

The professor wanted to award that comment with a snarky glare but found his shades to be in the way as always. The brightly lit hallway had the stinging LEDs that would tear into his brain if he dared to even as much as consider taking off his shades and he had done this mistakes enough already.

Sweet relief was nothing compared to the satisfaction of reaching his office once more and finally opening the door to allow the unlit room to swallow them into the dim atmosphere of his beloved office.

“Finally”, the professor announced, clutching his tea tighter and kicking the door shut without glory nor car. One might have thought he just finished a whole day of work and extra chores but no, the dude just felt the pain of migraines and rubbed his temples as soon as he crashed into his chair and got to put his tea down.

On the other side of the desk, Virgil put the food down and looked at his miserable brother.

“You know what?”

Remy sighed and slowly brought his lips to his stupid straw. It was one of these funky things that was made of biodegradable something. No idea what it was but it was something and it was not paper, probably. It kinda felt different but yeah, whatever.

He sipped his tea. Decaffeinated cinnamon winter whatever tea. It was as spicy as the tea around the theatre department. Which was pretty much a lot. To indicate his attention, one of his eyebrows rose and Remy craned his neck a bit to lean towards Virgil who just got around to opening a window yet pull the curtains shut so it would continue to be dark and private. As always.

“You look like a VSCO girl”, Virgil stated with tired eyes as he moved his chair closer to the suffering blob of leather and black. “I am kinda disappointed I noticed only know but you really really do look like one and I actually think you might be the bitch of all VSCO girls. Like, the superior boss bitch.”

Remy snorted his tea back into his straw and decided to stop hugging it and just put it back onto his desk again. Tea spilled everywhere. His pants, his jacket, a bit of floor and a whole bunch of Remy face got a big load the gulp he had meant to swallow rather than spontaneously blow back into his straw (which did not have the capacity to take it all in.

Yeah, he should have never touched it after getting into the chair…. The feeling of drinking just made the migraines a little less worse most of the time. No, before and after was just as miserable. Fuck hydration. But drinking? Drinking was the cure for migraine pains for some weird, magical reason.

At least to him.

He smacked his lips and clicked his tongue. Another sigh flew from his lips as Virgil curled into a ball of laughter at the horrible image before him. It was too good not to. Remy’s lips were slightly apart as he seemed to growl the tea away from him with intimidation skills he definitely did not have on tea.

He looked.. genuinely offended at the liquid for deciding to do any of this to him and jut ruin his jacket.

“Fuck you, Virgil, just fuck you, little hate crab.”

The professor got up and shrugged his jacket off his shoulders. At least it had time to dry before lunch was over.

“You know, you could be helpful and give me something to, like, help and stuff.”

Remy stuck his tongue out at Virgil who finally uncurled but was still grinning as they reached for the napkins and gave them to their sibling.

“Alright, princess”, Virgil commented with a smirk in their voice.

The professor rolled his eyes but refused to thank him. He patted his jacket dry but accepted the loss on his clothing. It was not much, it was not really wet or anything, just damp - if any.

Remy put his jacket over the chair and settled back into his seat.

“Just hand over the food”, he muttered in defeat and Virgil seemed to comply.

They distributed the food by giving Remy some of the boxes and just push some of his stuff aside so the desk was providing some more space for them to clutter it in food items. Not to be a bitch but this was his food space now.

“Mind me, Ri”, Virgil warned before he rose his knees as a first gesture. Remy took the hint and kindly turned his chair a bit so his sibling could access his lap properly. Their feet settled on his lap and got out some bamboo cutlery.

“Yeah, whatever.”

Virgil smiled and put the cutlery between them before he started opening basically any bit of food. No box was left closed (safe for the ones in the bags, still. They were to be spared for another few minutes until it was time for them).

The next minutes were just spent with the two starting to eat, Virgil picking a playlist of Queen songs to play in the background so Remy would be a bit happier with them.

“Hey”, Virgil mumbled and grabbed their bag. Remy hummed in acknowledgment.

“Got some more trash for you and you bet you will love it~”

Virgil whispered and moved their legs so they could pull Remy’s chair closer to him. Because OF COURSE this was an office chair with wheels and movement.This was an office and this was Remy and he would definitely have these kinds of things. The student reached into their bag and handed Remy a little brown bag. It looked like one of these lunch bags.

“Yeah, so, you know.. Met my friend again and they made you something.” They shrugged, deposing the bag in Remy’s lap, right between his feet.

“Well, this just perfect here”, he commented with a sly smile but he took the bag anyway and put it away carefully. “Thank you. How much?”

Virgil rolled his eyes and shook his head.

“Just hand me those fucking honey batches, Ri, I am gonna eat them all on my own and we are even.”

Remy did not try to argue with that and silently shoved the box of dessert over to the other. They did not do much more. The rest of their lunch break was filled with some jokes and Virgil eating about as much as two people would. The two would cuddle and talk until time came for the professor to pack up and get ready to be a good teacher for his acting classes.

They parted with a warming hug right before the door, still in the safety of the dimly-lit office. Remy leaned down to press a kiss to the top of Virgil’s head.

”You take care of yourself. See you later - tomorrow? You can sleep at my place if you want to. You look like you need it.”

He touched the darkened circles under their slightly swollen eyes. They looked a bit puffy as is from crying but it was so usual, Remy barely noticed it - that is how they met after all. It was not out of the ordinary. Sadly, that was exactly the point. Insomnia should not be the new normal (especially for a growing zygote like Virgil).

They just shrugged their shoulders.

“Yeah.. I mean, maybe, I guess. I w-”, they started but a notification sound interrupted them.

The emo pulled out their phone and unlocked it with practiced movements, barely looking at the display at all. Once unlocked, they checked for messages.

“Well, time for me to go get some stupid therapy - I mean.. get therapy. You know.. whatever. I gotta get going or I will be late. I uh..” They stopped and shuffled their feet a bit, black boots clacking together. “I will text you, I guess? Thanks for the food and the...um, all the stuff..”

Remy shrugged and nudged them, warmth quickly seeping into their shoulder. He gave the student a genuine smile, even his eyes were radiating warmth.

“No problem. Now go before any of us is going to be late, Virg.”

The smaller of the two flinched as if hit by the realisation that time was still a and they, in fact, were on a clock to get to their spontaneous appointment. They quickly jumped into another hug before dashing out of the door and disappearing down the hallway with quick steps.

Their feet were walking fast until they picked up further so they would run as the storm, dark jacket flaring out and making them look like an actual storm cloud. Their steps echoing through the halls were the thunder rolling in the sky and scaring your eardrums.

Remy smiled after the figuring shrinking in size and volume before he came to his senses and reminded himself of locking up his office and walking over to his course. Roman was waiting for him and he made a bad example of himself when he was late to his own course.

Little did he know that he would probably be there first because Roman was still struck by seeing his boss and roommate interact so closely, so intimately. He turned his back on the window and hurried away, remembering there was a place he had to be.

He really needed to talk to Patton about this. The thespian was not sure what was going on but it looked shady and he could not tolerate it any longer. Someone needed to make sure that Logan would not fall for some dangerous asshole. Logan was too emotion-dumb for that. Not to talk about putting Patton at danger in his currently still rather fragile state...

Just..

No, he would not take this any longer. As he hurried through the extensive building and the majestic pieces of architectural beauty, he reminded himself to address the issue. He would try his best to convince Logan and Patton to just kick that guy out. Roman had no patience nor understanding left for someone who would constantly snap at him. He was not ready to risk his friends’ well-being for the sake of being fair. Virgil had played all his chances and lost already.

His time was over.

Just you wait, Virgil. Roman knew his friends and come time, they would realise that this stranger was nothing but trouble and needed to leave. No matter the nice benefits of him staying around.

He better watch out. Roman was coming for him.

[embarrassingsmartphonegame]

Anything (Chapter 3) - Nik Ryder x f!MC

Summary: After surviving an attempt on her life, she discovers there are worse fates than dying. And they’re all ice cold.

Warnings for this chapter: a few swear words here and there, some mentions of violence

Links to previous chapters: one // two 

Nik Ryder, ace Nighthunter, cursed and limped back to his apartment after a long night. Damn feral threw him against a tombstone before he managed to stake it through the heart. Whatever, each feral he hunted came with a pretty penny from the new local vampire kingpin, so he couldn’t complain. He ran a hand through his hair, the usually blunt edges longer and softened and thinned over time, as he went to open the door of his loft. Sunday night crept up slowly to Monday morning, and he estimated that he had at least a few hours before he had to go track down a ghoul terrorizing a tourist boat. Absentmindedly, his thoughts drifted to his next few jobs of the week, his schedule nice and packed the way he preferred it to be.

But as he was turning the key and opening the door to his dark living room, his deft ears picked up on a soft rustling sound originating from the couch. His right hand automatically flew to his crossbow strapped to his back, and he loaded and cocked it expertly as he stepped into the darkness cautiously, preparing himself from whatever monster that somehow managed to break into his place. He elusively side stepped a broken plastic curtain rod on the ground to get to the light switch. The veteran Nighthunter flicked the lights on and pointed his weapon.

“FREEZE!” But he dropped his crossbow with a loud thud. Shock painted his rugged, tired features and his mouth dried at the familiar chocolate brown eyes opening and meeting his.

==============================================

She dropped her bat. Leah groaned and pinched herself hard on her forearm. This had to be another bad dream. It was definitely not the first time she saw her father in a dream.

“Leah, this isn’t a dream.” A wise, comforting voice tilted out of the Fae in front of her. He looked exactly as she remembered him in Lamrian. Tall, regal, exuding an aura of kindness and inherent goodness...and he was supposed to be dead. But there he was, standing in the middle of her small, messy apartment in the middle of bum-fuck-where-the-hell-do-you-live-again Wyoming. His robes even glimmered lowly under the artificial white light of her living room, no evidence of a Bloodwraith attack left. He held his arms out wide towards her patiently.

“That’s what you said in the last dream too…” she replied quietly, taking a few careful steps towards him. As bewildered as she was, she was always respectful in her dreams of him, especially when they didn’t involve his death being replayed over and over again. A part of her never wanted to wake up whenever she got the pleasant ones. To her surprise, what she thought was an apparition reached out and enveloped her in his warm arms, and she knew instantly from the wholeness in her chest it was real. Her arms found his waist and she hugged him back desperately, tears running down her face for the second time that night. They stayed that way for God knows how long. Her father simply held her and let her take all the time she needed, and she was grateful for that.

“But...but I don’t understand.” Leah finally pulled away to meet his gaze. “You’re dead. Wait, does this mean I’m also--”

“No, you’re not,” Lord Elric reassured, wiping away a few tears from her mascara-stained raccoon eyes. “But I did come back here as a final gift to you, albeit temporary.”

“Does this mean you’re a ghost?”

“No, we Fae are different. I’m here for a quick visit. I’m touching you, aren’t I?” A rare smile passed over her features before she started crying again, more emotions in her chest that one night than in the previous three months. 

“I’m so happy to see you.” They sat down on her old, lumpy couch. It was strange to her, seeing a Fae lord sitting in her small living room on a couch the most unappealing shade of beige possible, even if he was her father. He sat up straight and addressed her, never letting go of her hands.

“It brings me great joy just to see your face again, my daughter. I needed to come see you tonight.” She winced at his words, wishing that she hadn’t gone out that night. Her father deserved better than seeing her in some trashy club dress that she hadn’t bothered to take off before flopping on her bed alone. She ran a hand through tangled, dirty hair in a pathetic attempt to smooth it out.

“But, Father…why are you here? Wouldn’t it be a better use of your time visiting Lady Thalissa or anyone else watching over Lamrian?” Leah questioned, guilt threatening her consciousness for the billionth time since Lord Elric died and left Lamrian for Lady Thalissa to get back on its feet. Her kind, loving stepmother was unfortunately on her long list of people she couldn’t face.

“I’m here because I wasn’t able to be your father for very long on Earth, but I’m now able to be your father for a little bit now.” A warm yet sad smile was etched on his face, and his gaze became reproachful. “May I offer you some guidance? You seem lost.”

Leah sighed; her life was such a wreck that her father literally came back from the dead temporarily just to tell her that. Great. “You’re not wrong. This probably wasn’t what you had in mind when you found out you had a daughter. I didn’t tell you that my life is really just a useless degree and a dead end job in Wyoming and that I don’t really speak to my mother, so she doesn’t know that I know about you. I’m sorry for disappointing you.”

“Leah, you’re my daughter and I love you. You could never disappoint me.” Elric stroked her hair, affection crystal clear in his actions. “I don’t care what job you have, as long as it fills you with joy, and I can see this doesn’t. And I loved Jacqueline, but I can understand why you’re not ready to speak with her.”

“This job...hell, this entire life...doesn’t give me joy. And I don’t know what to do about it. I don’t know what I wanna do with my life! It’s pathetic; I’m 25 and have absolutely no direction as to where my life is going!” At that point she knew she was most likely still drunk, since the words spilled out like a waterfall. “Oh and can I just say that you’re the only one that gets this isn’t just about Nik? I was already thinking of leaving my job even before I went to New Orleans! My life doesn’t revolve around a man!”

Elric nodded, listening intently to her babbling. “So then what changed?”

“I died.” She hated saying that. “I literally died. And I don’t exactly know how I came back to life. I’m getting really tired of my existence being a mystery. I’m just...tired. I wanted to go back to my life before I found out monsters were real, but I feel absolutely nothing.”

“You feel...nothing?”

“It’s hard to explain. I try to feel something, anything,” she continued to confess. “But I can’t...at least, not since I came back.”

“My daughter,” Elric began and squeezed her hands. “You can’t run away from what happened. You can’t run away from who you are.”

“But I don’t even know who I am anymore! A half-Fae who apparently can die and come back to life but can’t use my damn powers?!” she replied, agitated and stone cold sober at that point. 

“But you do know. You do know deep in your heart who you are and what you want, and how you’re going to get it.” Elric met her gaze again more firmly, and she squeezed his hands tighter, sensing that their time together was almost out. “It’s a matter of if you are willing to follow your heart. And I know that my daughter is strong and willing. All I want is for you to be happy; that’s all. I hope you let Thalissa know I love her and will wait patiently for her.”

“I don’t know if I can ever go back to Lamrian. It hurts too much since you’ve been gone.”

“That’s okay. But I hope you know that you will always have a home in Lamrian.” Elric’s form started to become thinner and more transparent, his hands gaseous and cold as Leah desperately tried to hold on for a little bit longer. “I love you, Leah.”

She choked on her own tears. “I love you too, Father.”

Eventually his form completely dissipated, and he returned to being only a memory in the deep recesses of her mind. Her apartment was cold and empty again, but her chest felt warm, alight with a new resolve. Leah heaved herself off her couch and opened her laptop.

==============================================

‘Leah...this is fucking ridiculous, even for you.’ The plane landed in Louisiana a few hours later. Leah hastily typed out an email to her boss that she needed to fly out of town for a sudden death in the family, knowing that it probably wouldn’t matter anyway if she decided to keep wrestling down that all too rational voice in her head and face all her fears. She checked her phone as the taxi took her to her last-minute motel, the streets of New Orleans whizzing past her like the reel of an old movie. She briefly considered texting Katherine and Cal that she was in town, but there was one stop she had to make before doing anything else.

“Best to rip the Band-Aid off first,” Leah muttered to herself after dropping her luggage off at her motel and making her way to what she heard was the best tavern in town. The door clinked open and she took a spot at the bar next to what looked like a man and a woman conversing with an equally human bartender. But she knew better.

The bartender quickly excused himself to serve his next customer, and his eyes widened in shock as he saw Leah’s face. “Leah?”

“Leah!” Ivy noticed her, squealed, and pulled her into a hug. Krom waved shyly as Garrus beamed, his hands flying to make a concoction for her. “Long time no see! How have you been?”

“Honestly…” Leah felt extremely awkward yet happy to be talking with the three supernatural beings she called friends. “Really shitty. Like, super shitty. So shitty that I’m running back to the place that literally killed me once and I don’t even have a job or plan. My life is already a series of bad decisions, so this is pretty in character for me.”

Garrus smiled and slid a pink-purple-blue-sparkle drink to her. “Well, at least you now have a drink at the best bar in town! Ever thought about bartending? That’s why you came here first, right?”

“Not that this isn’t the best bar in town,” she said as she took a sip, the alcohol immediately going to her head. “But I’m actually here for a reason. This is going to sound really, really weird considering what happened...but I need to talk to Nik.”

“My mortal…” Garrus’ handsome face suddenly looked faraway and mournful. Leah held her breath, preparing for the worst. “He’s been working...a lot. More than usual, I’m afraid. Never has time to spend with his old buddies here. And he always looks so sad, so tired.”

Ivy interjected. “We tried talking to him a few times, but he’s always so angry now too. Once I made the mistake of mentioning you and that Bloodwraith looked like a puppy in comparison.”

“He says he’s fine, but he’s clearly not,” Krom’s timid voice rang out from the next stool over, and he placed one of his stone hands over Garrus’. “He actually reminds me of me when I broke up with my ex.” 

Yikes. None of that sounded good. Leah felt immediately responsible and she sagged down on her stool. Her hands found her head, and she pushed her hair back, fighting the urge to yank on her strands in punishment. “Does he still live here? I need to at least apologize.”

“Yes he does, and I think he’s coming back from a job soon.” Garrus walked from behind the bar to the stairs leading up to Nik’s loft. He pulled out a key and unlocked it. Leah raised an eyebrow.

“Uhhh isn’t that...illegal?” ‘And really creepy?’ 

The Fae shrugged. “We supernatural don’t really follow the laws of the human world. Now go inside and wait for him.”

Ivy and Krom each sent her an encouraging grin and she walked up to his apartment. When she closed the door behind her, she immediately noticed how the apartment looked exactly the same as how she left it, but with less upkeep. Leah wordlessly picked up a cracked plastic curtain rod on the ground, surprised that it was still in the apartment, let alone still on the ground. She smiled and set it back down, remembering the first time she woke up in his weird, wonderful apartment.

Leah sat on the same couch and practiced in her head what she was going to say to him. Butterflies soared in her stomach as she waited in anticipation. At some point she turned the lights off since the light was worsening her headache. But minutes soon turned into hours, and she was eventually fast asleep, the past few days catching up to her. It was only when she heard the shout of a veteran Nighthunter and clang of a crossbow dropping to the ground that she woke up.

Brown eyes met another pair of brown eyes that coupled with a sheepish, awkward half-grin. “...Hi, Nik.”

==============================================

A/N: Surprise, I’m alive! So sorry this took so long; school has been keeping me busy and I’m still trying to strike a balance. (I say as I post this at 2am after being at school for 14 hours today.) As always, all feedback is welcome and appreciated. Hope you guys enjoyed it and the next update should hopefully be out sooner than this one rolled out!

Tagging: @furiouscloddonutpeanut @nighthunterkatherine @saivilo @samara-rani @god-save-the-keen  @xxdangerouscapri15xx @inlovewithrebels

[icosmohunters]

chapter eleven : easter sunday

chapter eleven of cosmo hunters!

word count : 8.3k words

synopsis : easter is perhaps the best holiday to go back home to. after having come back to new orleans, hope has begun to familiarize herself with the town she neglected returning to for so long. a breakaway from exploration, and a time for bonding.

for a while, she was accustomed to waking up to a low hum of her ship. at times she would hear the miniature drips from the tap in the bathroom, or the radiators turning on upon sensing her stir or awake in the middle of the night. artificial sounds for a person who lived on a spaceship.

in the time where she had been far from home, she had lost her connection from the ambient sounds that was ensued from a fresh morning. the birds singing, the rattling of pans in the kitchen, the chatter from the road outside her window, the faint jazz that could be heard from next door.

hope left new orleans nearly a year ago and hasn’t come back, so it was strange to awake to something that wasn’t her alarm clock. it was more like a weight pressing against her sides, not one to bother but one to be aware of. this bit of weight also had some soft hair brushing against the side of her face.

it took her some blinks to adjust. being bathed in sunlight at the sight of your old bedroom growing up was a sensation that not many can describe. not a thing had been touched, relics of a young hope who had unfortunately grown up from her band phases and her obsession with plushies, and who had now developed into a particularly cold woman. 

this cold woman, though, was able to stir on her side and bring her brother’s sleeping figure closer, seeing that some of the bedsheets had slipped from his body. upon adjusting it over him, she saw his sleeping face soften and his breathing deepen, he was fast asleep.

from what she had heard, he had the same problem with sleeping that she did. the inability to relax and let go of the events you went through that day, the fight to let the night became your ally and something to rely on when your body needed the rest it craved. instead, the night became more of a sour friend, one which you would greet through your waking moments and continue to bathe in until the sun entered.

it was surprising, to say the least. she never thought insomnia could affect people on such a large scale, especially for a kid his age. but the absence of fun and lively activities that tired him supposedly made him more active and it was harder to put him to bed. he was going to turn eleven in may and yet he had a sleep disorder that should’ve affected him in the later years of his teenagehood.

he’s been through a lot, she thought to herself, brushing her fingers against every delicate detail on his face. connor had been robbed of his childhood because of this sudden illness that took hold of him, and there wasn’t a fiber in his sister’s body that didn’t want to get rid of it. but it required time and a lot of money. money might not be an issue, it was just time. time which hope may not have. because time was the catalyst for the paralyzation.

fighting through an early frown, hope allowed this embrace to linger for just a little longer, to provide the kid the warmth she had failed to give him during the time he needed her the most. hope felt awful for having left him, and she wanted to do anything to make up for it.

but to think that she’s going to be gone even after all of this is over . . . again.

sighing, hope looked down to her bed and saw something soft peeking through the sheets. she knew it was soft the moment she saw the dent and felt her feet brush against something composed of fluff. reaching from within the bedsheets, she grasped and fished out something that had her smiling from ear to ear.

it was harold, the duckie. he had been quite a big part of hope’s childhood. after winning him at a funfair, he was the equivalent of a best friend when the girl found herself unpopular in the early stages of elementary school. when people wouldn’t be her friend, harold was there to give her a cuddle when she felt loneliest.

he had quite a big head and two pink spots on his cheeks, suggesting a timid and embarrassing set of blushes. the outfit hope had picked for him was a t-shirt housing the name of her favorite football team, the new orleans saints. very patriotic but she loved being from this tropical town in the south.

aside from the aging smell of fabric, nothing on this yellow friend had changed. he remained still as adorably angry and fluffy as usual, and she knew mostly it was because of connor’s soft touch when it came to toys, he treated them with care. especially harold.

the young woman could almost imagine how he ended up here when he was supposed to be on the shelves with all the other plushies. connor had most likely reached to them and brought it with him when he determined to tuck in beside his sister.

setting her yellow friend to the side, hope turned back to connor whose lashes were batting and eyes flickered between the border of being awake and remaining in his blissful dreams. but as heartbreaking as it was to wake him up when he needed sleep the most, she found that she had to.

“ wake up, tyke. ”

he stirred slightly, and then the stygian pair of eyes soon looked back towards her, eyes which resembled hers in almost every way. they housed a brightness that can only be seen in that of children. the innocence remained in his soul, perhaps justifying his purity and goodness and inability to do bad things even though he might be tempted.

there was a cluster of stars in the eyes of this child and hope never wished them to burn out, as all stars do. she knew this constellation would be eternal. 

connor soon smiled and rubbed his pure eyes with his hands that had balled into fists and then loosened to pat around in search of something. she then placed harold back into his grasp and offered the boy a meek smile. “ i wanted to make sure he wasn’t lonely ”, he uttered in perhaps the softest voice she had heard yet.

hope rose on her elbow and allowed her cheek to lean against the open palm of her hand. “ does he get lonely when i’m not around? ”, she asked delicately and connor nodded. “ i can’t blame him, we were really good friends growing up. ”

suddenly, the mellowness in connor’s face was contorted with an expression hope never wanted to see again, and it was that of some sort of puzzlement intertwined with deep sadness, something a kid should never feel at this early stage. sadness was a universal feeling, and no one deserved it no matter how natural it was.

“ i think he’s going to be my only friend ”, connor croaked and then held harold to his chest, squeezing him so tightly it felt like he was throwing all of his strength onto a plushie, the type of embrace you’d see a kid giving a reliable adult. yet he remained so innocent. “ s-some kids at school don’t like to sit with me. they don’t play with me because my wheelchair gets in the way. ”

hope had to lower her head for a while. this was exactly what she feared. the prejudice that people show can easily be mistaken by something else in the naive mind of a child, they’re too young to learn about the problems of the world, they shouldn’t have to be exposed to any sort of maltreatment at this age. 

especially if it was a personal experience. she couldn’t even begin to imagine the face of her younger brother drop as he watches the kids outside being able to swing from monkey bars and squeal down a slide or dance through hopscotch. he was different. and he was labeled as different because no one was willing to make him feel like he could be like everyone else.

and that’s what she hated, what made her blood boil, what made her want to grab a fucker by the throat and slam them against the wall before asking, ‘he’s a kid, why do you make him feel as if he deserves this?!’. because he didn’t. he didn’t deserve any of it. he didn’t ask for the illness and he most certainly didn’t ask to be treated like an alien when the sickness already took half of his childhood away.

instead of making him feel like he’s worthy of some sort of happiness, regardless of what it takes the form of, they choose to humiliate him and make him feel separate from everyone else. a kid should never feel like they have to separate themselves from people, that people don’t want to be near them. kids like connor had to feel like they were capable of imprinting the world with color instead of staining it with hatred.

hope might have not been there for him during these times, she knew of her absence and how it might have hurt her darling brother. it was why she pulled him into her arms and allowed his body to relax once more against hers. it was why she tried to give time for him now, to utter some words that might hopefully stick with him.

“ ever heard of universal kindness? ”, she inquired and felt the gentle head shake against her neck. “ it’s being able to be good and kind to everyone no matter what they say or do. some people aren’t universally kind, connor. but you are. you’re the kindest kid i’ve ever met and i’m so . . .”. she had to pause as to avoid getting emotional.

“ i-i’m beyond proud, i’m more than proud of you for that. so even when people aren’t kind to you, never let it be a reason for you to give up on people. always try to be people’s friends because one day, there is going to be that one person who will play with you and like you even if you’re in a wheelchair. ”

her fingers now brushed through his jet black locks and tickled behind his ear, he seemed to have relaxed once more. and upon taking a glance down, she noticed that beam return to his face and that’s what gave her the strength to return it, giving him a light squeeze in her arms.

i may be the most flawed individual in this world but there is nothing i wouldn’t do for my baby brother or my family, she thought.

it was difficult to get out of bed, especially with the cuddle he was giving her but the moment she heard the rattling of pans grow louder and the smell of pancakes with apples and cinnamon, her stomach roared and she was soon making her bed and getting ready for the day.

connor had managed to get back on his wheelchair and went to immediately see his mother whilst hope chose her outfit for the day and then opted to shower first before anything else. except, of course, someone was already in the shower and she had to wait.

once the door opened, she leaned off from the wall and spotted dom. his hair seemed to have been washed as it appeared wet and he looked refreshed, some tinted pinkness in his cheeks from the shower but it wasn’t natural enough to disguise the bruise.

she glanced at him for a moment when he took notice of her and gave out a grumbled good morning. her lips quivered but she chose to speak, “ what are you using to make it heal quicker? ”.

he stopped slightly and turned to look at her, fixing a cold gaze onto her figure. she gulped and continued. “ the bruise. it might heal quicker if you use something on it rather than covering it up with make-up. i-i can ask my mom to make somet— ”.

“  —is the guilt starting to settle in, captain? ”.

her cheeks now burned. 

perhaps she did feel a slap of guilt across the face every time she saw it, it wasn’t a nice sight and it wasn’t nice at all to know that she was behind it. having received a similar injury before, she could tell it hurt. but what angered her the most was why she had done it in the first place.

thinking back on it now, it was rather childish. but then again, he had struck a nerve he shouldn’t have. it was difficult to tell exactly who was at fault, but hope knew she had done it regardless and she didn’t want to be reminded of it every time she saw the purple mark just below his eye.

“ y-yes, it is ”, she managed to say. but then didn’t linger long enough to see his reaction. she found that she was growing vulnerable around these people, allowing her weaknesses to be seen. she’s never been bashful near anyone, yet here she was.

hope entered the bathroom and closed the door firmly behind her, before letting out a sigh of relief.

it was a good ten minutes inside that bathroom, taking care of herself and allowing just a few moments to relax, she can’t easily lay back and enjoy a tender moment with her family like some people. hence why when she came home, it was always counted as a special occasion.

rarely getting in touch with her feminine side, hope decided that a summer dress would do underneath a denim jacket. this was mostly how she dressed at home, her mother would often wear clothes that made her look ten years younger. it was a trend in the everhart house to never get old.

“ there she is! ”.

hope smiled sweetly at her mother upon entering the kitchen. the pancakes she made every easter had remained a tradition since before hope was even born, so it was no wonder her dad was up early and so was connor, eating and chatting away at the table.

peering into the living room, she spotted vivienne braiding dawn’s hair for the day, though she didn’t see enzo nor quinn. it was weird, enzo had completely disappeared last night and supposedly he came back when most were still asleep.

vivienne, looking up, saw the puzzled expression on the captain’s face. “ he’s still in bed, i suppose he got some severe jet-lag and crashed after a trip to the bar last night ”, she voiced.

“ he went to the bar? ”, hope repeated.

“ yes, with dominic. ”

sighing, hope wandered to where he was staying. he had crashed in connor’s room, and she could tell this because she saw his bag as soon as she pushed the door open. and there enzo was, still tucked away in bed, bare arms exposed to the fresh exhales of the wind entering through the open windows.

so he had gone out for a drink. she didn’t know much about the guy’s background nor if he was accustomed to earth, but most people tended to go to bars for a breakaway from the hectic lives they lead. a pirate must lead a hectic lifestyle, even if it consists mainly of stealing and running from authorities.

just how exhausted was he? hope walked over and let a passing gaze over his sleeping face before leaning down slightly and shaking him by the arm, he grunted and soon his eyes flew open. “ morning, cap. breakfast is served ”, she mumbled and allowed him to slowly sit up.

“ uh . . . w-what time is it? ”, enzo asked through a yawn.

“ nine o’clock. we mostly sleep in during easter but mom has some nice things planned for all of us ”, she replied. his eyes lingered around the simple bedroom belonging to her brother before resting on her. “ you should really get ready and dressed, it’ll be fun. and i’ll ask dad to whip you up a shake for the hangover. ”

“ what will it consist of? ”.

“ well, bananas, blueberries, watermelon . . . maybe some eggs if you decide you’re going to take an eternity— ”.

“  —i’m up. ”

back in the kitchen, hope was able to sit down with a plate of those magical pancakes along with a glass of apple juice. and for the first time in a while, she took her tea having her meal rather than rushing it and not savoring the flavor, a flavor she’s missed for so long.

whilst eating, she listened in on the plans for the day. there was an easter egg hunting competition a couple of roads down and connor was looking forward to going. after that, it was a lovely evening at a jazz restaurant and when the sun had set, a boat ride in the bayou at night. three things that were going to occupy her day and she was looking forward to it.

every time she went home, it was like a moment of healing. being among her family members and catching up with the things she missed and providing the affection she kept to herself, it was all a healing experience. it was like being among nature, being where you feel safe.

before they could leave, though, hope decided she needed to do something to thank her mother for the day she had planned ahead for everyone. she was always a woman who gave to others and then never took anything back, never asked for anything back. truly humbled, truly kind. it was no wonder connor was the kind boy he was.

so in order to recompensate for the things had been given to her, provided to her by the mother she had, she decided that some flowers would suffice as a semblance of gratitude. she took her purse and was out the door in a few minutes, her converse tapping against the sidewalk. 

immediately, she was greeted by the sun beaming down on her, and it was refreshing, to say the least, after having not felt it properly in a while. it was like a welcoming but ghostly embrace from an old friend.

there was a flower shop stationed not too far from where they had eaten yesterday, a five-minute walk from her house if she hurried. and she did, she didn’t want to miss the easter egg hunt. 

soon, she saw it, the flower shop named honeycomb. it was a family business that has been in the town for nearly fifty years, it was there even before her parents were born. and within, she saw a figure walking among the flowers. hope entered through the veranda and past the first few gardenias and poppies and towards this figure.

it was rare to see her in these instances, she would often be away at university and hardly came back to celebrate holidays that weren’t christmas or thanksgiving. but it was good to see her, regardless.

many people thought hope and this girl were perhaps siblings as they shared similar appearances, but their personalities were almost total opposites. hope was cold, and she was warm. hope was sour, and she was sweet. it was in her name.

honey lee.

the girl was hope’s age, if not a year younger. and she could easily be classified as a girl anyone dreams of having at your side, whether it be as a friend or as a lover. not only did she harness that docile aura that you can get lost in, but she also held the personality that made her remarkable. a personality hope sometimes envied, but honey was an advocate for self-love so that doesn’t last very long.

hair curled and rich in brown, honey turned upon sensing the presence beside her and widened her bright, green eyes. “ hope!”, she gasped and welcomed her into a tender hug, hope smiled and squeezed the girl gently in her arms. “ oh my god, it’s so good to see you! i didn’t know you were coming back. ”

“ yeah, well neither did i ”, hope mumbled and pulled back for a moment but didn’t part from the hug, it was too much of a good hug to part from. “ you got a perm, i’m loving the hair. are you working today? ”.

honey nodded softly, “ but only for the morning. dad’s hoping to have a barbeque after the sunday service but we might not go. it all depends on how he’s feeling. god, you look so pretty. ” hope grinned. “ so, what are you looking for? ”.

keeping an arm around the girl’s waist, hope hummed. “ mom’s been doing quite a lot for me lately. she’s got the entire day planned and i wanted to get her some flowers as a form of gratitude ”, she explained. “ care to lend me some flower power? ”.

“ flower power? i’ll give you some. ”

honey was a magician when it came to flowers, knowledgable in almost every sense of the word and she knew how to bring a bouquet together to summon a message, whatever the message was, whether it was of gratitude or a love confession or an apology.

what she had wrapped for hope was a mixture of pink roses with sweat peas and the fragrance that erupted from it caused her nose to tickle slightly and her eyes to water but it was a beautiful mixture of colors nonetheless. it was hard to convince honey to be paid for the service, she often led the assumption that she had to do things for the sake of charity on special days.

but just today, hope wanted to be a normal customer. and one that pays. so whilst leaving the shop and saying goodbye to the girl, she shifted to shove the money into her pockets and bolted when she yelled and asked her to come back.

“ hope! ”.

“ happy easter, honey! ”.

the venue for the egg hunting game was not too far from her, though she had to hurry as to avoid being late, passing by hortense’s house and grinning from ear to ear whilst racing through the market. it was held at an open field nearby the playground by connor’s school, he hadn’t stopped talking about it the night before. 

by the time she got there, some families were already present and hope struggled to spot her or any of the pirates until she saw dawn hopping on her feet eagerly, she seemed quite lively today like she had cracked out of her shell. and new orleans does that to a person, it served as a catalyst for breaking out of any bounds holding you back from having a good time.

“ there she is ”, she heard her mother’s gentle voice calling and then heard it gasp when the flowers came into view. “ oh my god, who are you proposing to? ”.

hope laughed and pretended to offer it to vivienne, who caught onto the act and put on an exaggerated gasp whilst preparing to accept it before hope swiveled towards her mother and placed the bouquet into her arms. “ it’s for you. you helped plan this entire day out, it’s only nice that i offer something in return ”, the girl exclaimed.

“ oh, honey! ”.

“ she helped me pick it, actually. ”

it was difficult to be complemented with the tender pet name when you knew someone who’s legal name was just that. but she accepted the pleasant hug her mother gave her and looked about to see connor who was already taking part in the hunt. it was obvious he was being a little slow, and hope decided she could help him to pick up the pace.

there was an area for the parents with some beverages and snacks, but hope neglected it and chose to help her brother out. she picked her own basket and smiled fondly when connor spotted her, “ i only managed to pick three. ”

“ three? well, i’ll help you find some more. we can work as a team ”, she proposed. and it was indeed enjoyable. it wasn’t like hunting for convicted criminals who were wanted for bloody massacres and stealing millions but it was most definitely pleasant, distracting her from any thoughts that may have previously dared to bother her.

it was time to swift her mind into something domestic, she realized. it was good to focus on your work but it was even better to focus on the things that might matter slightly more, like your family.

there were eggs scattered all around and hope was able to search through bushes and look behind tables and under chairs and between tree branches in search of some, and gradually her basket began to grow heavier. she would put some eggs into connor’s basket so he wasn’t completely hopeless but he was managing it quite well himself.

she recalled climbing up a tree trunk and latching her fingers onto a branch to get the small nest of colored eggs and then hearing giggles from below, only to realize that some cheeky little children had tried to run off with her basket but thank goodness, her dad came to the rescue, tempting them with a little game of tag that easily distracted them, and hope then recovered her basket.

it was a ten-minute hunt for chocolate eggs but it felt like something more special, something that would be imprinted in the back of her mind as a pleasant memory that isn’t to be forgotten. especially after seeing connor’s face when she dumped the eggs into his basket, he gasped and just threw his arms around her waist.

his happiness was all that mattered to hope.

after ten minutes, a whistle was blown and the kids were told to stop chasing and to come to take a break. the eggs they got would be taken home and eaten, but many of the adults told them to share rather than hog all the chocolates for themselves.

connor hovered over with his basket on his lap, hope accompanied him not too far behind. “ i don’t think i’m going to be able to eat this all myself so you guys can have it as well! ”, he said and held the basket over to his parents and then to the pirates.

enzo cooed, “ this kid’s got some manners. i never shared when i was younger. ”

“ it explains a lot of things now ”, dom uttered, chuckling at the small rude he heard in response.

but even if they huddled around and tried to open their chocolate eggs, hope’s mother swept in quickly and told them to save it for later. because now it was time for lunch, and their table had already been reserved at another restaurant that was just as good as the one from yesterday.

of course, knowing her father’s tastes, it was a jazz bar. there wasn’t anything like in the places she’s visited outside of her hometown, not even some places in the colonies that basically carried entire chunks of culture to outer space. but perhaps that was the charm of it. sometimes things were just better off where they originated from.

on the walk there, hope had opened up some chocolate eggs, and offered it to the person walking not too far away from her, dom. he glanced at it and then took the piece, snapping it in half and savoring it. “ how are you finding it here? ”, she asked. having never had a proper conversation with dom, this was like a breath of fresh air. perhaps a fresh start. unless if he wasn’t willing to let what happened to go.

“ good. artistic and colorful, not what i’m used to but it’s better than the same old bottom end of the top bunk and enzo snoring the night away ”, he replied, a hand tucked into his pocket. hope chuckled and shook her head gently. “ you look happier, though. smiling more, talking more. i suppose being at home restores your energy. ”

for a moment, it felt like he understood her. she paid him a small, meek smile and then nodded. “ it gets lonely on the ship. having no one to talk to, no one to drink with or have dinner with. it’s quiet, sometimes too quiet. and i only realize that after i leave new orleans. it’s a hub of sound and people, i miss it a lot when i leave ”, she said. “ plus, my family is like . . . my safe haven. ”

“ i see ”, dom uttered and grew quiet for a moment, but it wasn’t awkward. often it feels better to talk to someone rather than allowing the same tense air to drift between you that just damages the chance of getting along. “ hope, t-that guy from the restaurant yesterda— ”.

“  —malakai. ”

“ is that his name? ”.

“ want to introduce yourself now? ”.

it seemed to take dom a moment to realize that the said male was just across the street the moment they arrived at the restaurant. there was a small queue to be seated and hope realized she would be in plain view of the tan and gorgeous male. and for some reason, she didn’t want to be.

because it took her a while yesterday to figure it out, that being with malakai whilst the pirates were around was exceptionally dangerous. he had a keen eye, he was one to question and expect answers, he wasn’t passive like hiro who just let things be. he challenged and became suspicious, it was why he was in the communications branch.

and exposing the pirates to his dangerous pair of eyes could be . . . damaging. for hope and for the pirates, especially when he figures out that they most certainly didn’t work for voyage. 

he met eyes with the bounty hunter and beamed from across the street before taking off to meet her. her gaze went to dom who turned slightly to face the male, whilst also taking a small step to stand just barely in front of hope. she blinked and then saw malakai approach. “ happy easter, hope! ”, he cheered and looked towards dom. “ and who’s this? ”.

“ t-this is, uh— ”.

“ a friend. nice to meet you. ”

dom even went in for the assertive handshake, but hope never saw malakai’s smile falter, he grinned and accepted it. “ hi, friend. i suppose you’re both out to enjoy the celebration ”, he said and hope nodded softly. “ well, that’s great, so am i. uh, hope, do you want to meet up later? ”.

“ w-well— ”.

dom stepped in, “ she’s kinda busy the whole day, can’t you drop in a text message or an email, to be more professional? ”. she really felt like her jaw was on the floor, he was so cold! “ i mean, you’re workmates, aren’t you? you’d think that if it’s business talk, it should be classified and formal. ”

malakai’s expression froze slightly. but hope could almost see the gears in his mind struggling, grinding against each other. he wasn’t accustomed to people like dom who so easily assert, well, dominance. this was the first time hope has witnessed it herself, and she was rather impressed.

perhaps he understood the danger as well, dom never missed a single detail. he seemed like the type to always be careful, always take precautions. that’s why maybe he’s hesitant in diving into things head first like the mission with the puppeteer. hope looked over at quinn slightly and frowned.

“ i suppose you’ve made yourself some pretty formal friends, hope ”, malakai uttered and the girl, once again, replied with a very meek smile. it’s what she often turns to when finding herself speechless in front of this particular boy. “ but you’re right. i will send you an email instead. or, perhaps see you later tonight? ”.

she saw dom was going to butt in almost immediately through the way his lips opened but she quickly pressed a hand to his arm and leaned towards malakai, “ we can talk tomorrow. i’ll still be here before we leave. we have an important task to complete. ”

“ oh. ”

malakai, with his hands tucked behind his back, then took a step behind him. “ well, i suppose i should get going, i don’t want to get in the way of your evening. so . . . hope, friend . . . ”. dom nodded coldly. “ i’ll see you soon. ”

it was weird, seeing him walking away with an expression that wasn’t a smile. she always saw him as an easy-going person, someone you could easily talk to but aspects of his persona often disturbed hope in ways that can’t simply be explained. there was something that kept him from being totally trustworthy, and perhaps it was the fact that he was a colleague, someone who shouldn’t know of her interactions with people she’s supposed to be putting in jail.

looking at dom, his gaze never wavered from malakai until he was completely out of sight, she even shook him gently. “ you can look away now ”, she uttered.

“ hope ”, he started. “ i know we got off on the wrong foot and that you may want to hear this from anyone else but me. but if this guy tries anything, tries to say or do something, don’t be surprised. because something’s wrong with him. ” he looked down at her. “ keep your eye on him. ”

“ i-i will! ”.

it was tense but the moment was gone just as quickly as it had started, and soon they were within the walls of the restaurant. safe, hope thought. at least there was a sense of privacy and safety now that she had sat into a large group.

now, the lunch lasted way longer than a normal meal. and it was mostly because of the dozen conversations going on around the table, with her dad striking a debate with vivienne on the morals that had been established on venus and hope’s mother asking dawn what she likes to cook. on the side, quinn and dom seemed to be discussing the food and enzo and connor spoke about comic books.

they had all ordered butternut squash soup with some fresh bread and all shared some wine with connor having the occasional sips of apple juice. it took a while for hope to be involved in a conversation, she often listened in but never spoke to anyone until her dad started asking her about work.

“ they sent you to get him alone?! ”.

needless to say, he was on the verge of being furious when he found out about what happened with the puppeteer. he already knew the injury quinn had was caused by a mission but his face contorted with rage upon knowing it was caused because of the master of puppets.

hope smiled bitterly, swirling the white wine in her glass. “ i transferred the mission to someone else, asking voyage to recommend going in large teams to avoid any accidents ”, she uttered and her dad grunted, rolling his eyes. “ but we’re okay, dad. quinn’s healing better after mom’s food. ”

“ yeah, well, that’s bianca’s magic. she heals with food. as her mother did and her mother’s mother. it’s tradition, it’s a magical tradition but it’s just foods cooked with a lot of love ”, he exclaimed and smiled softly. “ when i, uh, lost my arm . . . your mother never stopped a single day when it came to making meals. she thought that the reason i wasn’t healing was because i wasn’t letting my mind to be healed. ”

hope pursed her lips, “ is that true? ”.

he seemed to struggle to find the right words for a moment, but his attempts weren’t clouded behind the smooth keys of the piano from the stage. “ i-i think i became convinced that my life wasn’t going to be the same. but i forgot that people were going to be there for me regardless, to help me settle with a new rhythm ”, her dad spoke and nodded. “ but i’m better now, much better. better than before. ”

hope smiled. he had the same problem as her. when he was working, he hardly ever came into contact and hardly visited his family and you could almost tell he was a different person when he returned during the holidays. but upon spending an evening with his family, he would mellow out.

the sourness turned to sweetness the moment he stepped him, and that was what hope experienced every single time she came home, it was what she was experiencing now. would she go back to the grump she was before after leaving? she didn’t want to, she really didn’t want to.

because looking at it now, she liked this version of herself a lot more. especially whilst looking at the pirates and seeing that they were happy, or at least in a better place where perhaps they were free to be themselves. a break from reality, from running away.

looking at them, hope found herself smiling. they were good people, she realized, people who made her life a little bit more bearable when she was on the ship. she knew how complicated she could be, but she found that she wanted to better herself for them. because even if she would be taking them home soon, she didn’t want to be remembered as someone who could be easily forgotten due to the bad memories she brought them.

she just needed to let her mind heal, and maybe then she could improve on herself, and never have to worry about the pain of saying goodbye to them. but would it be hard? perhaps. yet it was only a matter of doing the right thing and hoping they would accept her.

they were their own little family and that feeling of familiarity and warmth was always among them and she wanted to be a part of it, but then . . . would she be intruding? this was their family, not hers. even if they made her happy and earned a spot in her life, would it ever be vice-versa? was hope everhart just a symbol of hatred and sourness in the lives of these people?

hope held her breath at the thought and immediately forced her gaze down. even if she did try to change herself now, it wouldn’t change the things she said and did in the past and no apology would be able to suffice for the damage it did. so, perhaps this feeling she felt was only . . . one-sided.

an unrequited feeling of fondness towards a group of people who made her feel worthy of some sort of happiness. only to then realize they most likely didn’t feel the same way towards her.

after lunch, it was quiet, mostly because the people were starting to withdraw at sunset, to watch the news or prepare for afternoon tea, or maybe even a soccer game that was on. but this group was walking towards the bayou.

hope found that she was quieter this time around, not particularly reaching out to anyone. she walked alongside connor who was happily eating away at the easter eggs, occasionally asking him questions about school and whether he was reading the books she’d lent him.

the boat at the bayou had been rented just for them. it was a nice tour, and they made it just in time as the little critters of light came out from behind the trees, peeking shyly before commencing their flights.

“ what are they? ”.

“ fireflies. ”

upon climbing onto the boat, hope immediately sat down on the seat by the edge, wrapping her damp fingers against the cold railings and peeking over the edge. it was lovely, seeing some of the stars in the sky meeting their reflections on the water, and the fireflies dancing on the surface, illuminating all the lily pads and the lotus flowers in their path. 

the engine of the boat roared to life and soon it was moving at a steady speed, not enough to be racing but not slow enough to be tedious. she took note of the radio playing some lighthearted nat king cole and immediately saw her mother and father meet halfway for a slow dance.

it was impossible not to watch. ever since she can remember, her parents have been passionately in love with one another and the flame has never once tempted to be burnt out. it burned and burned and only one glance at them could give away the years of mutual love and affection that they gave one another, from the way they held each other to the way they looked at each other. 

hope smiled softly, tilting her head at the adoring scene and then looking out into the bayou, at the long hanging branches she could easily reach up to touch, at the bugs that circled around the fairy lights and the lamps scattered around the moving vehicle. 

at moments like these, it seems like nature joins together in a state of harmony. one quick look at her parents and she saw they had finished dancing, and even received a little round of applause from the pirates, and from their two children.

hope felt a presence shift beside her and noticed it was enzo, who offered her a smile but didn’t say much whilst looking out into the illuminated bayou. it was quiet for a tender moment until his voice rose, not loud enough to cut through the silence but audible enough for her to hear.

“ you looked slightly sad at the end of the dinner ”, he noted and she rolled her eyes before shaking her head. “ and don’t dismiss people when they think something is wrong, hope. i’m not saying this because i’m trying to be annoying. i’m doing it because i care. ”

was he really scolding her? she couldn’t help but chuckle and hold her hand to her forehead, before letting her gaze fall to her lap.

she didn’t know where to start, “ when . . . i was a kid, i didn’t have many friends. people just didn’t like me for who i was, and i was the exact same person i am now, my personality was intact by the age of nine or so. ” she gestured slowly, not knowing where to continue. “ a-and that left an imprint in my life that just told me i was unwanted. that i was better off alone and away from people, because even if i tried to show my real person, they wouldn’t accept it. ”

enzo didn’t interrupt her once. “ a-and i think part of the reason why i didn’t allow myself to open up to you guys so easily was that i assumed you were going to be like every other person who entered my life that wasn’t my family. that you were going to dislike me immediately and not get to know me . . . ”, she hoped she wouldn’t start crying.

“ but now you guys are giving me a moment to show the real me, the real hope everhart who doesn’t hate people as much as she makes herself to hate. and in the midst of this vulnerability, i realize where i went wrong and how i want to make it up to you and be a better person, even if we’re not friends and . . . i don’t want to be remembered as the one who was angry and bitter all the time, the one who punched dominic and the one who exploded with rage at almost anything, i want to be remembered as who helped. or tried to help. ”

“ b-because, i don’t care if you’re pirates. it stopped being a concern a long time ago after i realize that you were good people. good people i would never think of comparing myself to and the reason why you’re so good is that you bring out the best in each other. a-and you ended up bringing the best in me. ”

hope felt her bottom lip quivering but she inhaled deeply and fought through it, “ and yet i feel like a total outsider, maybe because i haven’t known you for long but even though you treat me so well, i feel like i’m better off the person i was before because i can’t join the family. i-i can’t . . . quit voyage to become a pirate, i can’t do that. s-so even if i’m taking you guys home, everything is telling to keep you around for a little longer. because even if it’s artificial, i can feel like i changed because i was a part of something. even if i wasn’t. ”

sniffling, she blinked and looked at enzo before smiling, once again, meekly. “ so, to make a long story short, i suppose the reason i’m upset is that i know i’ll never be a part of what you have. b-but i guess the lessons i learned from being around all of you might be what i belong to instead ”, she explained briefly. “ s-so, uh . . . t-thank you, for listening. i’m sorry. ” she shook her head. “ j-just in general, i’m sorry. ”

everyone has a fear, and it ends up being spoken at some point. and the fear hope held to this day was the fear of being insignificant, being forgotten. she was used to being the one who left a bad imprint on people or leaving no semblance or memory at all, a ghostly figure passing through people’s lives who is easily over-looked.

and there hasn’t been a moment in her life where she felt like she has been special to people outside of her family at all. it was like she didn’t exist for other people, and perhaps it was because she was just a bad person in general. hope had convinced herself she was meaningless, and maybe it justified the creature of hatred and bitterness that she had become.

they had left a huge imprint on her life. but what did she leave? some insults and a smack on dom’s face.

the boat ride was quiet, and when they returned to the docks, hope was the first to hop off. often when discounting her feelings, she feels like isolating herself for just a while to gather her thoughts. she played with her bracelet and once again, walked alongside connor’s wheelchair.

he wasn’t talking, he seemed far too tired to do any of that. but he looked over and gave her a sugar-sweet smile, one which made her lean over and caress his hair gently.

when they got home, she entered her room and immediately changed after a quick shower. she didn’t really want dinner, even though it was her father’s special barbeque. tonight might be the last night she’s in new orleans for a while, but she wanted to isolate herself for just a moment. her mother came in briefly and left her a plate of hamburgers and a can of diet coke on her desk, but didn’t call out for hope. she knew her daughter was upset, but she gave her space.

hope laid in that bed, her door wide open and windows were drawn up to hear the laughter and the shrieks of happiness from the roof, the story-telling from her father and the poetic singing of louis armstrong.

she looked to the side and spotted her fluffy friend looking back at her, harold the duckie. she reached out and grasped him into her bare arms and clung to him, similar to how connor did earlier that morning. “ today was a busy day ”, she told him. “ we went easter egg hunting and had lunch and mama louisiana’s and then went on a boat ride . . . but i always felt like i was the sheep following blindly behind them. an outsider, y’know? yeah, you know. you’ve heard this all too many times. ”

she paused and then turned to lay on her back, her gaze going towards the ceiling. and it was littered with glow in the dark star stickers, something she had put up many years ago and they remained there. “ remember when i came crying to you one day after school? when it was my birthday and no one knew? when i told my teacher and she promised to sing happy birthday but she never did? and when she told everyone, they all just stared at me, asking why i didn’t bring cupcakes? a-and there was another girl in there who had the same birthday as me and she got everything? ”, she questioned, only gaining silence as a response.

“ i felt like i was invisible back then, harold. a-and i still feel like that sometimes. ”

silence.

“ i-is this friendship thing just . . . n-not meant for me? ”.

more silence.

“ d-do i not deserve just a slight bit of it? a tiny bit of it? a-am i that much of a bad person? ”.

silence.

hope chuckled bitterly, squeezing her eyes shut.

“ you know, if i asked anyone else the same thing, they would be as quiet as you are . . . k-kind of just makes me want to . . . g-give up. ”

[rancoeur-the-unfortunate]

Pills (Chapter 20)

(2878 😌)

GIR laughed, the little robot sat on the couch watching one of his favorite shows. The Angry Monkey Show of course! In his lap sat his popcorn kernels extra salty, just how he liked them. The little robot always did this when he had a lot of things on his mind. However, because of how scattered his mind was, it was hard to grasp onto a singular thought. So instead he'd rather distract himself with the TV.

One of those scattered thoughts was about his master. He had been gone for so long and yet for no known purpose that even GIR was concerned. The little robot could feel himself drift in out of reality, mentally of course. GIR's mind was a weird one, to say the least. If he wasn't careful his thoughts could consume him and all that was left was a sleepy GIR. One could say this was GIR's sleep mode, though he wasn't too sure. Then again, GIR wasn't too sure of most things. Like where did his food go after he ate? 

GIR shook his head turning his attention back to the TV. Suddenly GIR didn't feel like watching it anymore... GIR missed his master. He missed being yelled at for doing the things his master told him not to do. Like bringing stray animals in the house or making unnecessary noise. Now it was just him and the moose and that weird purple-headed human.

When was master going to come back?

It was at this time did GIR wished his inner clock was working properly. He never had a good grasp on time. It seemed useless to him and yet it meant so much to his master. Maybe he should have told his master about his mental clock?

What was he thinking about again?

Did he remove his memory chip again?

Maybe.

Suddenly, the doorbell rang along with several knocks at his door.

Now, what was it his master said about letting people in the base?

Before GIR could think about it, he was already at the door. Already in his dog costume, he opens the door.

"Heya GIR!"

That fun ginger kid, Keef stood in front of him.

"Meow," GIR responded with a smile, hugging the human.

"Yeah yeah, I missed you too Buddy." The ginger hugged him back while patting his head.

"So, have you seen Zim around. I heard he and Dib went somewhere and I was hoping he told you where."

Master never did tell him where he was going so GIR shook his head no.

"Aw, that stinks. I was hoping to find them it's been lonely at skool and I hate to say this about Dib but I have a bad feeling about his intentions."

Keef looks down for a bit but then turns his attention back to GIR.

"You don't think he plans on hurting Zim do you?"

GIR paused. No, he was certain that Dib wouldn't hurt him. Besides GIR was just now finding out that Dib was with his master. Yet, he knew the human wanted to capture his master. Maybe it was a trap set by his master or maybe for his master.

"GIR?" Keef snapped his fingers in front of his face causing the robot to shakes his head in surprise.

"You know maybe we should go looking for Zim. Ya know just to be sure." Keef allowed himself inside one hand on his chin.

"But where would they go GIR?"

He turned to GIR who just stared at him with a look of bewilderment. It was standard for SIR units to have trackers connected to their master's PAC and yet he couldn't think up anyway to get it to work. Maybe Keef could fix it?

Without saying a word the little robot took Keef's hand and took him to the desk elevator.

"Wow. What is this GIR?"

The little robot helped Keef into the lift. Which then sent the teen and GIR into one of the sub labs.

Understandably, Keef's eyes were the size of dinner plates.

"Wait, what is all this?" Keef stopped in his tracks while GIR continued to try to pull him.

Keef may have been dense sometimes but he wasn't downright stupid. This technology wasn't human it couldn't have been or maybe it was and Keef was just being stupid. But now that Keeef thought about it, it did seem plausible. Suddenly, Keef's mind went back to what Dib had been saying all these years.

'Zim's an alien!'

But that couldn't be true, could it? Zim seemed so real, just a weird kid with a skin condition. But slowly it did make a little more sense. Zim's weird mannerisms, his allergies to both water and meat, the fact that he and Dib had it out for each other since the very start.  

"Zim is an alien."

GIR stopped pulling him as if just now realizing that he had pulled the enemy into his masters base.

"Wow." Keef let go of the little robot and wandered around. His eyes were filled with so many shades of reds, purples, and magentas. Keef approached the computer and stared at the strange keyboard.

"GIR did you know about this?" Keef, not looking up, spoke.

"BARK." Came the robotic voice from somewhere behind him.

"It's so weird." Keef being the curious teen he was pressed a random button and by some miracle, the screen lit up. If Keef's eyes were any wider they'd fall right out of his head. The screen was filled with files all explaining Irken anatomy and brief descriptions of medicines Keef had never heard of, surprisingly all in English.

"What was Zim doing down here GIR?"

"Masta was tryin' ta recreate one of uh his pill thingies."

"Pills? So Zim... really was on drugs?" Keef couldn't believe it, to say the least, but he had to. All the evidence was against Zim and yet Keef could feel the denial creeping up his shoulders like insects.

Keef shook his head. He couldn't dwell on such things, he had a best friend to look out for.

"Alright GIR how are we going to find Zim?"

"You don't."

Keef spun on his heels with a shriek. Behind him, just ten feet away stood a girl with purple hair and gothic-like clothes.

"Hey wait, I know you, you're Dib's little sister!"

"Unfortunately for you, that's the case."

"What are you doing down here?"

"I could ask you the same thing."

"I'm here so I can find my best friend. Right GIR?"

The small robot was currently standing on the wall and nodding his head vigorously.

"Well give up then. Zim and Dib are hiding right now."

"Hiding? Why?"

"Pssh. Like I'd tell you."

"Why not?" Keef was getting tired of this.

"Because what if someone follows you, you moron. What if you give away their position?" Gaz had her arms crossed above her chest and had a bored look on her face. 

"Yeah? Well, what if that insane brother of yours does something to Zim?!"

Gaz uncrossed her arms, hands curling into fists.

"Shut up Keef you don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh don't I?! How many times has Dib tried to hurt Zim huh? How many times has he tried to expose him to the world like some kind of freak?!"

"He wouldn't be too far off."

At that Keef snarled. How dare she insult Zim like that.

"You take that back! Zim is amazing and to even insinuate otherwise is proof of how much of a jealous. incompetent, loser you are!"

At that, Gaz raised a brow and smiled a bit before cracked up laughing. Keef couldn't believe this, all this time he'd never heard so much of a giggle from the girl and now she was laughing at him. Her laugh, dear god, her laugh was the most terrifying thing he had ever heard. He was like a crows caw mixed with a raccoon's screech and it made Keef's blood boil. 

With that in mind, Keef charged her whilst screaming hoping to end her horrible muse. However, as soon as Keef came within range he was socked, hard. He practically spun in the air before he finally hit the metal floor.

"Computer!"

"What is it?!" The computer sounded as though it had just been woken up and wasn't too happy about it.

"Intruder alert cage him."

"I don't want to!" Came the defiant moody teenager voice.

Gaz rolled her eyes and pulled out a remote from her pocket. The remote only had one red button on it, labeled 'Restart!'.

With the push of the button, the computer's voice shrieked a bit before the light's started flickering before going back to normal.

"Yes, ma'am." The computerized voice seemed to lack all the emotion it once possessed and instead seemed to be nothing but an empty husk.

With that, robotic arms came out from the floor and ceiling, grabbing the now unconscious Keef and throwing him into a nearby cage.

GIR, now done with his nodding finally noticed Gaz and ran over. Grabbing her legs, and pulling her into a hug.

"Ugh. Computer, make sure Keef stays in that cage. We can't risk him escaping."

"Yes, ma'am."

Gaz smirked and turned around to head deeper into the base.

"Wait, why bother caging him at all? No one would believe him if he were to tell." The computer inquired.

"I know, but fuck that guy."

Minnimoose floated around the lower levels of the base, barking order after order to the computer to as she tried her best to install the new upgrades to the base's defenses. Carrying things had quickly become a challenge due to her nubby arms. So she could hold small things like wires, nuts, and bolts with her antlers. But that was just about it. 

"Mie meh ge mh yu me!" The moose barked.

"I'm tired!" The computer complained.

"Mes yu aw geh!"

"I know I'm a computer! But I don't want to do this anymore!"

Minnimoose was starting to regret giving Gaz that Restart Remote she needed it right now.

"WE GY MEH MAS!" The moose glared at the ceiling, knowing the computer was watching her.

"I know this is for Master! I don't care!" The computer raised its artificial voice.

Gaz came down the elevator, juice box in hand, and GIR in tow.

"Sup Moose. Robot giving you a hard time?"

The moose let out a squeak, which by now was a sigh.

"Yu."

GIR ran out of the elevator and up the wall to the ceiling there he knelt and screamed,

"HI COMPUTER!"

The computer let out an annoyed sigh.

Gaz stood beside Minnimoose.

"What are you trying to build?"

"Muu mo we."

"Huh sounds kinda cool." Gaz shrugs and presses the Restart button on the remote causing the computer to, like before, shriek, shut down, and power back on. 

"Yes, ma'am." 

With that, the computer went back to work on the upgrades.

Minnimoose let out a 'sigh' of relief.

"Mas we by saf."

"Yeah, with these upgrades. He better be."

"Uh, Doctor I have a few questions about this whole... plan of yours." Tallest Purple raised his hand.

The Tallest along with the Doctor and few other top-ranked Irkens were sat around a round table discussing the plan for getting Zim back on his pills. 

The said Doctor let out a sigh.

"Yes, my Tallest?" He tried his best not to lace every word with venom. The Doctor did not like being questioned.

"How do you plan on capturing Zim? You have read his file right? He's got more luck than any other being in the galaxy!"

"Yeah, we've tried to destroy him countless times and every time he always seems to evade the danger." Tallest Red added.

"That's simple. We'll set a trap for him. Zim's withdrawal should be going into full swing soon a few pills could be the perfect bait and if that doesn't work we'll just try something else."

"Something else? Like what?" Red asked.

"Oh I don't know, a personal item, a pet, a friend, a lover, etc, etc." The Doctor droned.

"Well there's always that big-headed child Zim is always fawning over," Red suggested.

"Yeah, just the other day Zim always talks about that big-headed kid. What did he call him?... Did or somethin'?"

"No no, Dib." Red corrected.

"Yeah, that's right, Dib."

The two now done with their mini conversation turned back to the Doctor. 

"Also how to plan to keep him locked up long enough to get him back on his medication."

"My Tallest, Zim may be able to escape your greasy fingers, sure. But he won't get passed mine." The Doctor's voice went deeper near the end of the sentence.

The Tallest looked at each other, then back to the good Doctor.

"Greasy?" Purple asked as if he didn't understand what the Doctor just said.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Tallest Red put his hands to his hips.

"Oh, nothing my amazing and all-knowing Tallest." The Doctor quickly bowed and motion for one of the foodservice drones to approach. He cupped his hands and gave his Tallest a little smile.

"Care for some confectionary?"

"Yes, please!" Tallest Purple immediately dove into the food.

"Heeeey If I didn't know any better I'd say you were just trying to distract us- oh they've got cupcakes." Tallest Red tried to but in before being drawn in by the sweet treats.

The Doctor continued to smile as his Tallest gorged themselves. He then turned to the rest of the group his smile a lot more sinister.

"Now then. Shall we begin?"

Zim sat up suddenly gasping for air he gripped his sleeping bag in a death grip as he starred forward. Beside him, Dib awoke, rubbing his eyes before sliding his glasses on.

"What is it, Zim? Another memory?"

"No Dib. A realization." Zim replied solemnly while sweat fell from his skin.

"Oh? What is it then." Dib sat up and turned to face the alien.

"I haven't contacted my Tallest in Days! They must be worried sick!" Zim gripped the sides of his head in panic.

"What?! Worried?! Zim, you do know they don't care about you right?"

That was the wrong thing to say because a second later Zim was on top of Zim with his claw gripping the front of his shirt.

"Don't you ever say such things about the almighty Tallest pathetic Dib worm!"

Dib eyes went wide before he glared back to the alien. He grabbed Zim's arms and forced him to let go and back off.

"Why are you defending them, after everything they've done to you?!"

"No those were only nightmares they aren't real." Zim put his hands to the side of his head and shuts his eyes tight as if the block out the noise.

"Wow, that Ventive really is strong."

Zim pauses and looks to Dib lowering his hands.

"What's... Ventive."

"It's one of the many ingredients that come in those little pills you care so much about Zim."

"What?! How do you know what's in my medication?!" Zim was shaking from both rage and fear.

"Tak's ship told me everything Zim. It also told me what each ingredient does to you. Ventive, for example, is what makes you so damn loyal to those deranged lunatics. It's a drug Zim, don't you ever wonder why the Tallest treat you so badly? It's because they know, no matter what horrible things they say or things they make you do, you'll always bounce back and be that good little Irken. They don't care about you Zim. I'm sorry... but they just don't."

Dib fell silent, he was prepared for Zim's backlash. He was prepared for Zim to scream about how wrong Dib was and how the Tallests love him ever so much. What he wasn't prepared for was Zim's quiet voice.

"Do you really think that's true?" Every word Zim spoke was laced with a false hope that maybe Dib was just telling a human joke but the longer he waited the more he realized.

Zim's lips we pulled into a thin line as his eyes drifted downward. He looked like he was going to cry.

"Uh, Zim are you ok?" Dib could feel the concern slashing onto his face like a bucket of paint.

Zim wiped his eyes into his face.

"Do they not care about Zim?" He sniffled.

Dib let out a sigh and told it to him straight, Zim deserved that much.

"No, they don't."

Zim nodded and wiped his eyes again. Dib could see the beginning of tears in the Irken's eyes.

"So they have been drugging me... and all those dreams did happen."

"I guess so." Dib took Zim's hand in his own.

"But, it's ok now Zim. You're not taking those pills anymore. You're getting better and soon you might even get your memories back." Dib smiled reassuringly at the alien hoping that Zim would at least feel a little bit better.

The Irken went silent for a bit.

"I... need some time to think, human." Zim stood and left the tent.

Dib couldn't explain why but for some reason the tent felt a lot colder after Zim left.

(Wasn't Enter the Florpus just great?!)

[skepticalspooky]

hellbent

msr | fluff | college au | one-off/stand-alone

hello i’ve never written a fic before but i guess i have now! please feel free to give feedback. i aim to please (probably). also this is pretty short so i apologize for that.

A lettermen-clad frat boy thrust an unidentifiable drink at Scully as soon as her shoe hit the weird linoleum floor. Who picks linoleum for a walkway? The vibe of the house was anxious yet somehow sexual and the acoustics made by linoleum didn’t help. Maybe wanting to experience a college party was silly. It seemed atrocious so far, with the plethora of half naked 20-year-olds and the overbearing smell of vodka and perfume and weed. Scully felt like she was in another dimension where time moved one hundred times faster than normal. A guy that she vaguely recognized from some class came up to her and tried his hand at catcalling, though it didn’t carry the intended effect seeing as he was five inches away and had to face the consequences. His hand gripped her back in a way that could be passed off as “flirting” but was more likely his attempt at keeping balance. Of course, Scully had to decline his offer of “test riding his dick” by stepping on his foot. It was unfortunate for him that she was wearing wide heeled boots. He retaliated by calling her a bitch which, much to his chagrin, had no effect on the answer she already made clear. Tugging on her two-sizes-too-big jacket, Scully decided to make her way into the calmer yard. There, she was met with the odd couple making out and a few groups chatting about things that won’t matter in 10, maybe even 5, years. But who cares? Why not live in the moment? Thinking about the deeper meaning of every move and every word and every person gets tiring. A prime example of someone living in the moment was the kid who just received an unbranded cigarette from a random. Or was it a cigarette? Scully had all the time in the world to think about it because this kid was blissfully unaware of anything but his maybe-cigarette and the stars. She even clocked a few glances thrown his way, out of intrigue or lust, yet he sat unwavering, hellbent on outer space. A scary and often forgotten part of her wanted him to be hellbent on her. Not necessarily sexually, no, but in some way or ways, she wanted his attention because it seemed so sweet. An even scarier part of her knew he would be hellbent on her if he knew her. An instinct maybe, or perhaps just hope. At this point, she figured out that she had been staring for a bit too long. He was staring straight back, eyes smiling in unison with mouth. Could he read her mind? She desperately hoped that wasn’t so. Scully hung on to every moment as this mystery boy made room on his blanket and pat a seat beside him, holding relentless eye contact. She could practically see her eyes widening in excessive disbelief and her face reddening just enough to be noticeable. Nevertheless, her feet floated her to his stupid checkered lawn blanket and forced herself down. One would expect the first words spoken from this mysterious college kid to be somewhat thought-provoking or even brooding. They were not.

“Your coat. I like it.”

Her coat. He liked it. Her two-sizes-too-big brown bomber jacket. The one with all the patches. He liked it.

“Thanks. I like your...” she couldn’t search fast enough and too many off-putting things were coming to mind, “glasses.” She did. They were nice round glasses. He only needed them for reading really, but he seemed to like them too. Truth be told, they were both a bit flustered. It felt different for two complete strangers to share this common timidness upon meeting, yet it was there. Oh, was it there. Perhaps one of them was thinking too much about what the other looked like under their cool jacket and cursed themselves for thinking about that having just met them. Maybe the other wanted to run their fingers through the other’s hair just because it looked so soft and oh my God could not believe they were being so weird right now. But that’s merely one interpretation of events, of course.

“I’m Fox, but Mulder is preferred.” Fox Mulder? My Lord did this kid’s reputation precede him. This was Spooky, Spooky Mulder, the guy who believed in aliens and shit! Scully never had a face to put with the name. Her intrusive but welcomed thoughts said it was a good face.

“I’m Dana- uh, Scully.” She couldn’t tell if she was stumbling over words (her own name of all things) or if she was subconsciously following that last name pattern.

He simply repeated her. “Scully.” It sounded pretty good coming from him.

“Nice to meet you, F- um, Mulder.” Again with the word stumbling? Then again, she wasn’t used to people going by their last name. Then again, she was formulating excuses like clockwork with this guy. He laughed. He was clearly struggling a bit here too. If only she knew his excuses. He was just nervous about this other thing, he was just hot because of the weather. Maybe they could exchange excuses sometime.

A necessary subject change, if you wanted to say they had a subject to change at all, came on a shooting star. It was unusual to see a shooting star with all the artificial light surrounding the pair, but there was no denying its twinkling as it shot across the sky only to shrink and fade away. “Do you ever make wishes on those things?” He sounded a bit gruff. Scully was still red. He wasn’t helping.

“Not really. It’s more of a fun phenomenon to me. But it shows me that I’m on the right track by living in the moment, I guess.” Was she rambling? She had four-ish sips of beer, does that lead to Scully mini-tangents? It was all another excuse and she knew it.

“Hm. That’s a different way of looking at it.” He paused a moment with no sign of elaboration. “I make wishes sometimes.”

“What do you wish?”

He didn’t answer, he just smiled. She didn’t pry.

“But your thing with being on the right track. I think I’m gonna use that now. Like, um, would I have seen that if I was arguing or staying in or something?”

“Yeah, exactly. You probably wouldn’t have. But you made the choices that led you to see it instead.”

He nodded. “Plus, it might make girls think I’m deep.” Scully laughed, but he was right. It kinda worked and she hated it. “But it makes me think about other things that are out there, too.”

“Like... like, aliens?” She could see the Spooky in him now. He seemed so serious about this that she almost moved away a bit. She didn’t.

“I can sense the skepticism, Scully!”

“Mulder, if you think that’s skepticism, you should hear my thoughts on the WOW! signal.” They could both feel eyes on them at this point, but surprisingly Scully didn’t care. She couldn’t not look into his eyes when he started talking about aliens and bigger meanings of things and, at one low point, Bigfoot. Scully even dropped the excuses and quietness and replaced it with a newfound comfort. He gave her goosebumps when he spoke about crazy theories in a smooth tone and it made her laugh, really laugh, when he rolled her eyes as she disputed him. He certainly was hooked on her sarcasm and questioning looks. Her prodding was like the missing piece to his mixed-up Mulder puzzle. Sometimes, when he thought she couldn’t see him because she was laughing away from him, he looked at her like he was hellbent on her. She could see him.

When she was done laughing, she would push away a loose strand of her scarlet hair. Mulder noticed this happen every time for about nine muffled song changes, not that he was counting. This time, he took the liberty of tucking the strand away himself, lingering on her jawline only a few seconds too long. Scully couldn’t do anything but look down at her shoes. The sound of car doors slamming and crickets chirping and distant songs and loud laughing made for a nice distraction. But the alcohol proved to override this effect. Rosy-cheeked Scully wanted to speak her mind and she was only a bit buzzed.

“I can’t believe I’ve never seen you before.” Mulder looked away from her when she spoke.

“I tend to stay out of the, uh, spotlight,” he replied after a few pointless moments, annunciating the T’s in “spotlight.” Scully nodded understandingly, yet she yearned for him to be in the spotlight. She figured it would be a nice change of pace. She didn’t say that. No, she wasn’t that brave yet.

“Talking to you is easy.” Wonderful, changing the topic and beating around the bush. Hey, it made Mulder smile.

“I feel the same about you. It’s nice having someone who... pays attention? I don’t know if that makes sense. I just feel like you’re listening.”

“I’m listening.”

“Am I talking too much?”

“Did you forget the part of our conversation where I talked about my 8th grade Halloween dance for ten minutes?” Another Mulder smile, but this one came with a laugh. Now his hand was on her hand and he was sitting closer to her than she thought and was that her heart she heard beating? Or was it his? A common theme returning, intrusive thoughts got the best of Scully and all she could think about were his lips. Lucky for her, his mind was racing too. He wanted to be pressed against her; soft yet tense, breathing yet unmoving. She wanted to know how his hair felt between her fingers and she couldn’t explain why because she didn’t need to. That’s how it was and that’s how it will be. Their brains sparked at the same time as they turned to look at each other at the same moment. In a “fuck it, this needs to be true” moment, Mulder moved his hand to Scully’s shoulder as he leaned into the space between them. Scully met him in the middle, her lips carefully finding his before he could reach her. It was different than she expected in the best way possible. His lips were soft but his face was contrastingly rough, and as she let her hand wander to his hair she found that it was soft too. Pulling away but lingering close, the two weren’t quite sure what to say. They’d just met and now they were swapping spit in some stranger’s yard. Less romantic than expected, but perhaps the fact that it was so thrilling and a bit spontaneous made up for it. She thought a kiss would be the cure, but Scully’s heart didn’t stop racing and she was fine with that. Mulder looked at her for the longest time as she thought. Visually, he was unaffected. Deep down, he felt he could run a mile. She seemed pretty perfect to him before and this confirmed it. Not once had he felt so connected to someone before. Sure, she disagreed with him on almost everything, but she listened and truthfully had some great ideas of her own. He loved that she could take an urban legend and it explain it fluidly and scientifically as if she was writing a revolutionary report in her mind. Maybe it was the beer or the group of assholes smoking in front of them. No, that’s wrong. It couldn’t have been. God, was it time to talk now? He didn’t know what to say and she obviously didn’t either. He went with the first thing that came to mind.

“How come we’ve never met before?”

[heyhowdyhellohi]

The story of Rae Chap 2

Chap 2: Waking up 3240 words

There are no windows set in the baby blue walls, and the room smells faintly of fabric softener and the yellow-orange flowers on the cream colored night stand next to the bed. All of the light in the room is artificial, but dimmed for comfort. The monitor of the tablet in Captain America’s hands flashes a silent, green notification that, based on her brain waves, the girl would wake up soon. The nurse quietly steps away to take the tablet to the doctor.

The first words out of Steve’s mouth are, “I’m sorry.”

The girl instantly jerks into action, yanking at the plastic handcuffs secured around her wrists only to fall back down onto the mattress. Involuntarily, her eyes shut tight and her hands rush unsuccessfully towards her head as she is rocked by sudden vertigo. Too much movement too quickly after waking up. After she has composed herself, she slowly sits up. Childishly, she glares, first up at Steve, then down at her feet, which she notices have each been securely encased in two inches of rubber in the form of unflattering boots.

“You lied.” She glares harder at her feet. Too many bad memories are tied to people trying to restrict her powers. She feels like she’s suffocating, the combined effect of sudden claustrophobia and the cold humid air she’s unaccustomed to.

“No, I-“

Her eyes snap to his in outrage. “How else could this have gone?” She tugs at her handcuffs for effect. “Don’t stand there and tell me you would have taken your answers and left.”

“I really wanted to talk. And maybe get you to come with us willingly. We’re on the same side.” He's trying his best to contain the situation, but he starts to sense that nothing he says will calm her.

“I’m not on a side. I just want to be left alone! Why can’t you just...” she was pulling frantically at the handcuffs now. The cold air burns her nostrils and dries her throat as she takes short fast breaths, and her entire body struggles. She’s trapped! She’s trapped and she has to get out! She doesn’t even know where she is! She needs to RUN! She can’t move! She needs to GET OUT! The red-headed Natasha soon rushes in and grabs her hand.

“Breathe. C’mon, inhale, hold, exhale. You’re having a panic attack. Everything is going to be okay. Listen to the sound of my voice. Listen! Inhale, hold, exhale. Good. You are in New York City in a recovery center. I’m going to release one of your hands, okay? Okay, there, you have a little more control. Are you with me?” Natasha noted that she came out of it quickly, and she had obviously experienced panic attacks before. She continues to hold the girl’s hand, crouched next to the bed. The girl relaxes somewhat. Steve had left.

“You’ve been out cold for a day. You’re stuck in this room for the night so the doctors can be sure you’re good to go. Then, bed rest for a while. We have a room for you when you’re ready.” Natasha smiled warmly at her.

“I won’t join you. Not now, not ever. I won’t be your pet.” The girl tried to be venomous and cold, but her voice was frail in its whisper and her hand stayed curled around Natasha’s. It had been very long since she held someone’s hand.

“That’s good. Personally, i always liked cats. You should drink that by the way, it will help you feel better.” Natasha gestures to a plastic cup on the night stand. The girl looks at it, but doesn’t move towards it.

“What’s your name? I’m Natasha.”

The girl doesn’t look away from the plastic cup and the orange juice that filled it. She thinks for a long time with pursed lips and indecision written on her face. “I’m ...Rae.” She admits it like a crime she got away with, like she’s afraid she might still get in trouble.

“It’s nice to meet you properly.” Natasha walks out with a kind smile. Rae takes a drink from the juice and decides she doesn’t care for the taste. She rubs at the still sore skin of both of her wrists and the goosebumps on her arms, shuffles her feet, and wiggles her toes. She identifies a cloth texture within the cumbersome boots and wonders whether she is wearing socks or if the material is somehow incorporated into the boots. Before she can delve into her inquiry, Steve reenters. She folds her legs under herself in a protective position, and observes his every movement.

“I would really appreciate it if you would answer a few of my questions,” Steve holds his hands up to show that he is not a threat, his voice unimposing.

“Why should I?” she spits the question at him like an insolent child.

“Because maybe the information you give us could help us keep what happened to you from happening to other people. HYDRA is very much still around. They’re always around, and if they aren’t, there are people just like them.” He sighs heavily as he sits down on a chair against the wall, and she considers it because he seems honest and very tired. She stares at the boots, running fingers over the rough rubber. She seems more conflicted that he had expected her to be.

Without looking up she says, “Ask.”

Steve’s eyebrows shoot up, but he quickly recovers. “How did you escape?”

“I’m not really sure. We’d whispered about it for years, but we never thought- Uh, something went wrong. There was chaos at the facility, people running around, shredding things. They tried to move us, get us on a helicopter. The moment we made it outside, we took our chances and just ran. I made it past the tree line, and I didn’t stop running until I passed out. Then, as soon as I woke up, I kept running. Many, many days of just moving and surviving. Eventually, I settled down where you found me. I’ve been there for a long time.” She has never talked about it to anyone. She hasn’t really had anyone to talk to in so long. Her eyes are glazed as she remembered all of the details again, every detail as though it had happened only yesterday. There wasn’t a day went by when she didn’t go through every second again, blaming herself for every wrong turn.

Steve allows her a moment of silence. The girl is a chameleon, switching constantly from child to traumatized war veteran. The ambivalence of her demeanor was somehow twice as heartbreaking than if she were just one or the other. She is a child who never had the opportunity to mature, but she is also the child who learned to fend for herself when no one was around to help her. And third, she is a weapon, the force of nature he had faced before bringing her in. How does she balance them? Carefully breaking her out of her reverie, he says, “We had heard rumors from lower ranking Hydra members about an enhanced army being trained. We finally heard it from enough sources to give it credibility. We tracked down a facility that we believed had been involved in experimenting on people. When we got there, anything that wasn’t shredded was burned, and there were- there were bodies. Execution style.”

“Punishment for my getting away.” she interposes stonily.

“The rumors, sometimes they spoke of an entire army, but most of them spoke of four.”

She whispers so softly that Steve has to lean in to make sure he doesn’t miss anything. “There were four of us. Lea, Ram, Tal, and me. Rae. We named ourselves in secret. The one thing we had control of in our lives was our names. They were ours.” she pauses, regaining her composure, before continuing in a slightly louder voice, “My powers work on mud and rocks, Lea’s worked on fire, Ram’s on water and Tal’s on air. Mine are bullet proof. Theirs, not so much.”

“I’m very sorry.”

“It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t change anything. Don’t- don’t disgrace their memory by apologizing to me like you had something to do with it. We were alone! You were nowhere. They were born alone and they died alone and I- you had absolutely nothing to do with it. Not while it mattered,” the glare was back on her face as she became more and more enraged. All the openness drained away.

“I don’t mean to take away from everything you’ve been through. I just meant to express my condolences. I know what it feels like to lose everything and to blame the world for it. I know you’re still hurting, but please don’t let your pain and your pride keep you from helping others. Please. I need you to tell me if you think they could make more enhanced humans.”

She took a deep breath, and as she exhaled she seemed to deflate. “Yes, definitely, but it would take a long time. They experimented on my parents as children, then altered my genetic make up as a zygote. The original process was too violent to be undergone by a normal matured person; the bodies kept burning up. The experimentation had been going on for so long that the lead scientist died and left his apprentice in charge when I was only 9 years old. Fortunately for you, he’s nowhere near as bright as Dr. Peters. Unfortunately, he was twice as cruel.”

“So, they would need to experiment on two generations before they built an army?”

“Four generations. I’m not the endgame. I was supposed to have a child with Ram, and Lea with Tal. Then our children would have had a child. My grandchild would have been the end game. The last stage of project Genesis. They would have used his DNA to make more.”

“That’s...” but he trailed off. There was no word strong enough to describe how atrocious HYDRA’s plan was this time. “The apprentice’s name?”

“Dr. Bram Jeckel. The man for whom the eighth layer of hell is reserved.”

[reekierevelator]

A Thing You Don’t See Every Day

‘Antarctica melting, the last white rhino, a man on the Moon, statues of famous women – that’s the kind of thing you don’t see every day – not a man buying beer in a pub.’

           It was a bitter riposte, and Dorcas paused afterwards, completely refraining from giving me grief for at least a further fifteen seconds. I watched the fire burn in her dark and narrowing eyes. In these situations it’s usual for the image of Andy Capp’s wife Flo to flit through my mind. Of course, Dorcas looks nothing like Flo. She wouldn’t be seen dead in a cleaner’s turban, and only a blind man could call her short and dumpy. But it was something about her temperament. I wondered, not for the first time, who really knows what goes on behind closed doors? There must be all kinds of things you don’t see every day.

           I was long since tired of arguing with her. I simply ran up the white flag, feeling like one of those tired little timid men in a seaside postcard, returning home late a little the worse for wear, and finding his wife standing behind the door with a rolling pin, nursing her wrath to keep it warm. It was strange since we lived nowhere near the sea.

‘Yes, of course, you’re right, you’re always right Dorcas. I am, of course, more than somewhat prone to putting things badly when I try to paint a picture with words.’

‘Always doing that ridiculous what did you call it - reductio ad absurdum.’

‘Ah well, actually, no, that’s not strictly the case this time dear – I think you’ll find my figure of speech in this instance was more simple hyperbole. I confess exaggeration is not something unknown to me. No doubt you’ll agree that I do, now and then, inject a hint of unlikely excess into my conversation.’

Dorcas emitted a heavy artificial sigh that was almost a grunt.

           ‘Huh! And you’re not much better at making pictures with a camera, are you?’

           I used to spend all my time and money on fine art photography.  But art college was so long ago. Nowadays I relied on the occasional, albeit increasingly infrequent, wedding commission.

           ‘You are of course correct my dear. There seems little likelihood of art galleries dispensing with their Sanders, Woodmans and Cartier-Bressons to create a little space for my happy couples with their flower girl daughters.’  

           ‘Are you being sarcastic Melville?  Sarcasm’s the lowest form of wit! You think you can stand there smelling of stale beer and toss sarcastic remarks around?’

           And so I was subjected to an avalanche of clichés and misunderstandings, all because after tumbling through the door at quarter to one I had merely chanced to suggest that it may well have been the first time I had seen Chalky put his hand in his pocket to buy a round. Certainly, it seemed reasonable to describe it as something you don’t see every day.

I count myself among the regular attenders at the upstairs room of the Lion and Unicorn, what the impoverished local cognoscenti regard as an informal arts club, and I for one could not recall it ever having happened before.

           In in her domineering mode Dorcas can stick her claws into any casual remark simply in an effort to make me feel small and vulnerable.  And never content with just that, Dorcas was also, as ever, intent on extracting, - it often seemed with pincers and forceps if necessary, - any item of gossip, innocuous, slanderous, or otherwise, to which I might have happened to gain access at any point in time when I was not actually in her immediate shadow, unsupervised as it were, beyond the reach of her flapping ears.

‘So, come on, tell us then,’ she demanded, and I noted the royal plural – always a clear indication that her level of ire was intensifying, of pressure being ramped up another notch, - ‘what brought it on? What was it that made old miserly Miseryguts happy, so full of joie de vivre as to suddenly want to spread his euphoria amongst all his alcoholic cronies? A big win on the Lottery perhaps?’

It struck me that Dorcas really needed to get a grip on herself, keep her feet on the ground. I mean, when money and the Lottery are all that are perpetually on your mind… And when, in any case, did an occasional few pints amount to becoming an alcoholic? And when were writers, painters, musicians, photographers merely cronies, even if, like me, they were admittedly just scraping by? But I refrained from raising these perfectly valid points as I could see her current mood was decidedly unreceptive.

Instead I merely asked ‘And when did miserly McGuire ever hand over folding money on a speculative venture such as the Lottery? You know he wouldn’t bet on a horse if it was the only one in the race.’

‘Are you trying to take me for a fool Melville Morton?  I know no-one bets on a one-horse race. That’s a walk-over. The horse just walks over the course and collects the prize-money.’

‘Ah, yes, of course my dear, but actually, to be technically accurate, I think you’ll find it’s the owner who collects.’

‘Huh! I don’t want any more of your cheeky pettifogging nonsense Melville Morton. Insolence is unbecoming. My mother always said that and she was right. Consider your card marked. So what am I to conclude? Has Chalky come into money some other way? Maybe a legacy, some kind of inheritance?’

‘I’m afraid not my dear. If you recall Dorcas, his parents have long since gone to a better place. There’s only an old aunt and uncle, - and I’m afraid they have taken against him.’

‘Well they’d hate you too if you’d taken full advantage of their goodwill to hunker down in their flat for six months, all the time completely ruining it by attempting to turn it into some kind of artist’s studio - paint spattered over the walls and carpets, good curtains cut up to make some kind of collage, proper hardback books torn up to make piles of papier mâché to be shaped into horrible models of mutant people, the whole place stinking of turpentine.’

‘Of course, you’re absolutely right my love, but he was young and stupid back then. Weren’t we all? Sad that they never forgave him.’

‘Honestly, trying to get anything sensible out of you, Melville Morton, it’s like drawing teeth, isn’t it?  Come on, what made the Miserable Creature suddenly want to share his happiness with your drunken gang of reprobates? Oh, no, wait a minute; don’t tell me - surely not a woman? Surely it hasn’t finally happened that some poor unfortunate woman has fallen into his clutches after all this time has she?’

‘Why does everything have to come down to sex or money with you Dorcas? There are other things in life you know.’

‘You’re as pathetic as he is Melville Morton. So, still no girlfriend for Chalky then. And, what, you’re telling me he’s found spiritual enlightenment? Become a Zen Buddhist? Joined some mad wee religious sect? Well has he?’

‘No, not as such Dorcas, not exactly that, no satori or epiphany seems to have struck him down like lightning as far as I can see. What it is, he feels he’s finally achieved something, his life’s ambition you might say. He feels himself existentially justified. He feels fulfilled.’

‘I thought he’d already achieved fulfillment by getting you and your idiot pals to pour drink down him year after year.’

‘No, this is recent, new. You see he announced that he’s got this fantastic thing. Something he says he’s wonderfully pleased with it, really over the moon, indeed overjoyed enough to want to demonstrate his immense pleasure by buying drinks all round.’

‘A thing? What kind of thing?’

‘Well, a kind of creation; I suppose what you might call an installation, maybe a sort of sculpture type of creation.’

‘You’re telling me that that penniless, deluded, failed artist has finally made something he thinks some fool is going to pay good money for?’

‘Yes, well, could be; maybe lots of money.’

‘So what does this thing look like then, this kind of thing you don’t see every day?’

‘Ah, well now, that’s tricky. You can’t really describe it. The words don’t exist. It’s indescribable. But it makes you uneasy. It makes you doubt yourself and everything you ever thought you knew. It makes you see the world differently. It makes you ponder the meaning of life itself. It makes you think whoever created it must be some kind of genius.’

‘Do you think I can’t tell when you’re reciting Chalky’s McGuire’s mad babblings like some kind of echo chamber? Melville Morton, for God’s sake, describe it in your own words.’

‘Well yes I will, I will, I’ll describe it to you as precisely as possible, just as soon as I’ve seen it.’

‘A hah!’ spat Dorcas. ‘Something you don’t see every day, eh? Might be something you never see any day is my guess!’

‘Well, no, I think we’ll definitely see it love, just so long as we’re prepared to help him through his current little difficulty.’

‘Difficulty? What problem has he found to be miserable about now?’

‘Ah well it’s just that his landlord has ejected him from that dilapidated hovel he was calling home and is insisting that Chalky owes him money for repairs as well as rent. The unfortunate fact is that Chalky’s homeless, spiritually happy it’s true, but quite homeless.’

‘For God’s sake Melville, you’re not suggesting…?

‘It would only be for a week or two at most my dear.’

‘Melville, I’ve got to hand it to you. You’ve got some brass neck. You’ve come up with some crackers in your time, but this tops the lot.  You think that pathetic old miserly miseryguts McGuire is going to come and live here – here with us?’

‘Don’t you want to see his amazing creation?’

‘Melville, I don’t care if his miraculous work of art is a ten times tremendous improvement on the Venus de Milo. If it ever finds its way through this door you’ll see something else you don’t see every day – me packing my bags and slamming the door behind me.’

‘Actually, technically, to be fair dear, maybe not every day, but I’m sure you remember I have actually seen that once or twice before.’

And that was the flashgun moment. She swung the rolling pin which right up until that second I’d been sure had only ever existed in comic strips or as a figment of my alcohol doused overwrought imagination.  I didn’t see it coming at all.  Probably why I’ll never make it as a fine art photographer.  It was a thing you don’t see every day.

                                               ============

[Sculpture: Foot and Arch by Ganesh Gohain, Bellahouston Art Park, Glasgow 

[prussianvenom]

Embraced by the Iris

Genji feels unease, he searches out his master in hopes to be comforted, to get his mind off things, to relax

Zenyatta certainly gives him this

It has been a good while since the younger Shimada has come to me.

A good while it's been since I've gotten to enjoy the other's presence.

Of course Genji still has a way to go before he reaches true inner peace and that does require some time to himself. So it is not unusual for me to be bereft of the other, even if it causes some longing in me. Though that is not unusual for me either.

My life has lightened up considerably since the other came into my stead. At first it was frustrating trying to deal with the other, but now that he had calmed down some he was an absolute joy to have around. The ninja is as playful as he is skilled and often will engage me in childish games like hiding my orbs or doing something foolish in an attempt to get me on my feet.

His youthful nature was something I desperately needed when I found him. It was not too long after I had lost my brother that the other started to lighten up around me. I believe he has given me as much peace as I have him.

We have had healed together.

In each other we have found tranquility.

Though I wonder if he realizes this.

I care for him deeply. With the resurgence of his brother I hope I can grant him that last bit of peace he craves, he needs. Unfortunately, now that I’ve met Hanzo I can see why it might be a difficult journey for the both of them. Hanzo talks about wanting redemption but seems to be a very difficult and stubborn person to deal with. It doesn't help that he's at ends with Genji's current being. I want him to see past that, that his brother still remains, even if his form is different.

“Master?”

Ah, speak of the devil. The man enters my room, almost shyly despite his usual confident behavior others.

“What is it my student? Are you feeling alright?”

“I do not think so master. I have that feeling again. That's something off, wrong...misplaced...missing.”

Oh, how unfortunate. Dysphoria. Angela had explained it to me when I told her I was going to be caring for Genji.  I cannot say I understand, being mechanical all my life. That being said, I can emphasize why the transition from flesh and bone to mesh and wire can affect someone's psychological health as such.

“Aaa, perhaps your mind and soul tire. Would you perhaps like to meditate with me? Or would you like to talk about it in depth? I will try to consult you the best I can.”

“I think...I think I would like to discuss it with you master.”

“Of course. What specifically feels off? What feels misplaced?”

“I've….Ive always been at odds with accepting my new body. I thought, or perhaps hoped, that the other members would understand my plight on some level seeing as a majority of them are fixed with mechanical limbs, but…...They don't. I don't know why I thought they would/ Missing a limb and missing one's entire being are very different. To feel a phantom pain of one's arm is nothing compared to feeling the phantom pain of your chest, your legs, your stomach y-”

“Genji.” I cut him off, I do not wish to see him stir himself up needlessly.

“I...I want someone, I want to to talk to someone who…”

“Understands?” I offer.

“Yes.”

“Do you think your teammates do not sympathize?”

“Sympathy and understanding are two very different things.”

“I think you misunderstand sympathy.” I say playfully and the other relaxes some, even chuckles quietly, though still tightly for my liking. “We all live different lives, and we don't always experience events as others would. Some of your teammates might be able to understand you more than others and others might not understand at all. That does not derive from their sympathy to you and your condition either. Imagine it this way my student, picture any of them going through the same thing you did. Do you think they would react the same?”

Genji silently nods and waits.

“What I'm saying Genji, is that, you may never meet someone who truly understands your plight because no one has gone through what you have, and even if they did there's a good chance they would experience it differently than you did.”

The other takes a moment to take in my words before he sits down within arms reach and removes the metal plating covering his face. He is handsome and scarred, inside and out, and thank the Iris that I am lucky enough to see him exposed and vulnerable.

“Thank you master.” He smiles at me before turning his gaze away. “There is something else I wish to discuss, to help ease me, if you will.”

“It would be my pleasure my student.”

“Even surrounded by my friends, people I've known for years and would consider my family, I still feel uneasy, like I don't belong, lonely.”

“Lonely?”

“Yes. It feels contrived, but there are still things I desire, human things, that I desire in my heart. Desires that I feel will go unfulfilled.”

“You are still human Genji,” He smiles “ Could it be you are speaking of romantic desires?”

“Yes, I suppose,” his face is slightly pink, how cute. “I never had any serious relationships when I was younger. I didn't think about love, about being with someone closely until it was too late. Now a man in his thirties, I would like to find someone.”

“What is the problem then? You are quite the catch.” I'm a little disappointed to see that the scowl that began to form on his face only further etched it's way onto his features.

“I'm this. Nobody wants this.”

“Why do you say that?”

“I imagine those who are interested in robotic beings are only interested in full on omnics, and I don't know many others that want a machine of a man.” He jokes, he smiles slightly, tight, trying to and failing in hiding the pain he feels in those words.

“You feel undesirable.”

“Yes.”

“Do you trust me Genji?:

“With my life master.” He does not question the change of subject. His outright devotion to me has me reeling sometimes.

“If you'd like, I can give you a special massage. It might not wipe away your feelings of inadequacy, but perhaps for a moment I can ease the pain. I want you to relax, to feel at ease, perhaps if we put the body at ease than the mind will follow.”

Genji looks at me as if he wants to question my motives. I do not blame him. My motives feel unclear to myself at the moment. I do want to help him. I do want him to be calm and relaxed, and I do want to get rid of his feelings of self-loathing, but I fear that my true intention might veer regardless of how pure hearted it started out as.

He nods, accepting my offer. I pat the ground in front of me and he moves to sit there with his back facing me. I doubt any other person but an engineer could admire this sight like I do. Even if mechanical, you can see the power in his form.

I reach out and carefully push against his spine. As I bring my other hand to press against his shoulder blade I hear a content sigh leave marred lips. The material is strange. Armor and flexible metal mesh combined in a beautiful humanoid form. I can feel the artificial strands of muscles relax under my fingers as I continue across his back and along the sides of his neck. My curiosity gets the best of me as I push a finger underneath the armor plating of his shoulder blades, my fingertips dancing along the wires that lay there. Genji flinches and his breath hitches but otherwise he says nothing. My other hand pushes under the opposite shoulder blade. The mechanisms are warm and the wires appear to be receptive if Genji's small restrained reactions are anything to go by.

I can't help but wonder what I'm doing to him. If I was causing him pain I'm sure he'd tell me, same goes for if I was causing him discomfort. Yet he says nothing about my exploration. I push deeper until I'm able to massage the wires steadily with my hands. Mindlessly, or perhaps not, I let a little spark of static flow out from my fingers. Genji jolts, the noise leaving his throat foreign. He stays in place. His breathing is deeper, erratic. I cannot tell if I'm easing him or unintentionally riling him up more. Seeing him like this has stirred something inside me as well. Consciously or not so, again, I'm not so sure, I blink into another state of mind, arms forming a ring behind me. Only when one of the hands touch Genji's sides does he move away. Only then do I become aware of the hands, manifested in my desire to touch more. His face is red and he looks shocked when he sees the multitude of arms, some of which are already fading back into nonexistence.

“Is something wrong my student? Have I misstepped our boundaries?” I certainly hope not. I would be horrendously bereaved if destroyed any chance of seeing my student so open again.

“N-not exactly.” His face gets redder and he looks off to the side again. I regard him for a moment, studying him carefully. He refuses to make eye contact with me and he seems embarrassed.

Oh…

Ohhhh…

Oh my.

This certainly wasn't what I intended when we started.

“Are you aroused Genji?”

“Master!”

“Am I wrong?” Genji laughs brokenly and hides his face in his hands.

“You are horribly blunt.”

“Have you known me to beat around the bush?”

“No I suppose not. You are as brazen as ever.”

“You are avoiding my question Genji.” He goes quiet, he removes his hands to fidget at his sides.

“It is nothing to be ashamed of.”

“Yes, I am.”

“I was not aware your body was outfitted to do such things.” Genji smiles and awkwardly scratches his neck.

“Angela wanted to make me as human as possible.”

“Did they succeed?”

“Master!”

“Was that inappropriate? I apologize for my curios-”

“No! It's fine.” His face is as red as my sash at this point.

I'd be lying if I said I wasn't enjoying teasing the other. He's in a better mood now, so regardless, I'm thankful.

“I do not mean to embarrass you Genji.” I lie.

“ Of course, I, I understand master.” there's a moment where we just behold each other quietly before either of us speak.

“Master, if I may?”

“Yes Genji?”

“While we’re on this subject. Can...can omnics engage in sexual activity? Or is that another thing that makes me unlike you?” I chuckle deeply.

“There are a great many things that make us unlike each other. That is not one of them. Omnics can, if they so desire, engage in sexual contact. If they are not already, they can be outfitted with  genitalia of their choosing.”

“Are you?” Hm? How unexpected.

“Outfitted for such activities I mean.” I had not expected this. What does he hope to do with such knowledge? Is he interested in me? Though that could be wishful thinking on my part and he is just as curious of my form as I am of his.

“Yes, I am.”

“Oh,” He gives me a heated look.”Have you felt arousal?”

“Yes,” I pause, “ I feel it now.” His eyes widen and he stiffens.

Perhaps that was the wrong answer. I know my bluntness can be embarrassing for the other. We share another tightly wound silence before I offer him a seat before me again.

“Would you like to continue our massage? Or have I made things awkward?”

Genji doesn't answer, he considers something before sitting in front of me again. The arms knowingly manifest themselves this time and I get back to work once more. My actual hands traced up the ridges of his spine, the golden ones pushed under various plates to grope at sensitive wiring underneath. Genji sighs breathily and leans back into my embrace. With him closer I can feel more of him.

“I-it's hot.”

“The hands?”

“Yes.”

“Is it bad?”

“Oh god no.”

Genji moans and I feel the urge to see something else parting those lips. It's a shame I do not have lips because I greatly desire to press them to his. One of the hands reaches up to gently push against the cyborg's lips. They're soft, plush, warm. He gasps at foreign contact. I let out a wave of electricity through my limbs, shocking him, jolting him in my arms. The nonphysical hands push deeper into the wiry mechanisms of his body. His voice gets louder and I get more reckless with the Iris. For a moment I touch beyond physical and Genji lurches forward and out of my touch. Genji turns around quickly and stares at me with wide questioning eyes. For someone as old as he, he looks younger than I technically am. Innocent even.

“W-what was that?”

“My apologies, with the Iris I touched what can be considered your soul.”

Genji crawls back into my embrace, facing me now.

“It felt...I'm not sure...I..”

“I understand Genji, being embraced the Iris is, indescribable.”

“Master..” He inches closer, I can feel his breath against my face.

“I think such titles are inappropriate at the moment Genji.” Genji smiles slyly and looks his age for once.

“Zenyatta.”

I feel an electrical trill, something akin to a shiver, run up my spine. It isn't the first time he's said my name, but this is the first time I've heard it said so….lewdly.

“Zenyatta, can I kiss you?” I laugh.

“I do not see how, but feel free to do as you wish.”

He smiles and presses his lips against the golden plating of what would be called my face. I can feel the heat as he pushes closer until his chest is pressed to mine. I fell a bit ridiculous on his part. To kiss unmoving metal has to be strange? Wouldn't it?

I put the hands forth again, now massaging and caressing the inside of his chest and torso. He breaks his kiss to pant and moan wetly against my face.

“Genji.” I try to get his attention. I run one of the hands up his thigh. “Genji would you like to experience it first hand?” He looks confused, eyes dazed and hazy.

“Experience what?” “Omnic love making.” His eyes take on a dangerous glint in the low light and he wraps his arms around my neck.

“I would love nothing more Zenyatta.” The hands flicker brightly in conjunction with my excitement and Genji chuckles. “And it appears you do too.”

The hands are removed from his chest, at least a majority of them are, and replaced on the man's thighs and posterior. With my real hands I grope the metal plating caressing the conjunction of his groin. Genji gasps and grinds into the palm of my hand.

“Genji, have you used these parts before?” He shakes his head pathetically.

“I was busy finding peace. I did not think to-”

“You didn't even think of trying it out? As a human man, especially one like yourself, I thought you would have at least given it a try.”

“A-Are...Are you making fun of me?” He chides playfully.

“Of course not my student. I just thought, surely, in the lonesome of the temple you would have relieved yourself of your frustrations.”

A fluorescent hand crawls down his back into the seam of his backside. With the material hand I find the switch on the groin plating to release it. Genji squeals as his genitals are exposed for the first time. He looks down to inspect himself. I give him a moment to take this unknown part of himself in. He moves his hand off my shoulder to travel in between his thighs. His eyes widen when he finds that he is equipped with both genitals. I give him another moment to take that in. It's probably shocking as a man. So I say nothing and caress him gently with the hands of the Iris.

“I….I-i have a vagina?”

“It is not uncommon to be outfitted with both.”

“Angela-”

“Probably did not want to assume your preference.” He whimpers quietly as he pushes a finger pass the wet lips of his synthetic vagina.

“I-it's so sensitive.”

My patience is being tested.

I want to touch him, to replace his hand with my own. I want to give him pleasure beyond belief.

“Do you need a moment?” His eyes snap back to me as if he had forgotten I was there.

“No...I want to see you too.” His hands grab mindlessly at the sash around my waist.

“Impatience is unbecoming.”

“Don't lecture me on patience,” Genji smirks. “Especially when you are so close to losing it. Not to mention you're the one who initiated it.” He can read me so well. Pity, I thought I was doing a fine job trying to hide my excitement.

I lean back and let the sparrow do as he pleases with my clothes. He sits back for a moment to inspect me the same.

“You have both also.”

“Yes I fig-AHhh!” He cuts my sentence short by plunging 2 whole fingers inside me.

“You're so wet and warm~. So hard master~.” My hips lift subconsciously. I grab his wrist weakly in an attempt to stop the sudden onslaught on my body.

“Genji, my sparrow, this is supposed to be about you. If you, ah, if you please, I would like to c-continue my massage.” Genji pouts and retracts his fingers and he leans back.

“Ok then, how should I be? Or rather, how do you want me?~” Genji winks.

“For your comfort I would suggest you lay down.”

I'm absolutely mesmerized as his lithe body stretches and lays itself before me. Once he's situated I smooth my hands down the expanse of his torso and lay them on his hips The hands manifested take place on his thighs, soothing and caressing, searching for every sensitive node hidden in the mechanical intricacies of his body. Two hands press closer in between his thighs as I inch another closer to his cock.

“Z-zen please.”

“Please what my sparrow? You have to voice your thoughts clearly for your desires to be heard.”

Genji groans and tosses his head back in frustration.

“Touch me, please.”

“I am touching you Genji.”

“Master.” Genji glares at me, though it hardly has any heat behind it.

“Yes my sparrow?”

Genji grabs my silver wrists and placed my hands on his cock, hissing in relief as he does so. I feel giddy at this man, 14 years my elder, impatiently struggle to get off. I wrap one hand loosely around his cock and move two of my other hands to pull his pussy wide open with my thumbs. He moans high in his throat and bucks against me. A material hand and a golden hand press his hips down against the wooden floor. With the last 3 hands  I caress every imaginable inch I can of the cybernetic body. Genji's crying, moaning, sweetly and openly, struggling so sweetly against the hands holding him. Carefully, gently, teasingly I push the tips of my thumbs into the entrance of his pussy. He whines and tries to thrash about more.

“How does it feel my sparrow? To have both?”

“I,” He laughs breathlessly. “I'll have to t-thank Angela later.”

“Good?”

“I-it's so good m-master.” I accidentally push a thumb deeper than intended. Genji gasps and smiles brightly up at me.

“Saying master is inappropriate huh?”

“Chirpy little sparrow aren't you?” Genji laughs, a laugh which bites off into a groan as I pull apart the wet muscular walls of his pussy.

“I-it's not e-enough master.”

“Oh? What do you mean?”

“I want you inside m-me, I-i want you to fuck me.” Genji tosses and whines.

“How blunt of you my sparrow.”

“Not o-one to beat a-around the bush.”

“Are you sure? You don't want to be stretched first?”

“D-don't imagine a-artificial flesh can tear that easily and besides,” Genji moves to push a couple fingers inside with my thumbs. “Look how wet I am.~”

I retract my hands. Does this man know the power he holds over me? Years building iridescent patience is crumbling quickly at his hands, crumbling at the hands of a simple broken man.

“Genji, you are far too flippant with your body.”

My words betray my actions as my fingers push deeper inside his pussy along with his own.

“Just imagine how Angela would react if I had to bring you in because of your excitability. Imagine how she would look at us. How upset she would be if I destroyed such a beautiful creation of hers. Do you want that?” Genji throws his head back against the floor.

“Master pl-please.” Genji whines and pulls my wrist, gagging to have my fingers deeper.

“Does it feel that good my student?”

Even in his haze he still nods his affirmation and mutters praise to me in his native tongue. There are not many times where I wish I had a more humanoid shape, but this is certainly one of those rare moments where I desperately crave.

I want to kiss him, to trace the crevice of his mouth with a tongue of my own. I want to mark him. I am not granted many possessions, but I want him to be one of them, I want to own him. I want him to be mine and mine alone. Only this creature of metal and flesh can incite such dark and powerful feelings inside of me.

All hands join where my fingers are inserted. Genji's eyes widen and he is struck mute when he sees 8 golden hands approach his dripping opening.

“Ze-Zenyatta?” His voice is trembling with excitement bordering fear. Maybe this is not the best course of action but even my own mind is hazy and I cannot find it in myself to care.

“I would not fret sparrow, after all it is as you said,” fingers from all hands, from all sides, press slowly against his cunt.” I don't imagine artificial flesh can tear that easily.”

Genji's jaw falls slack as 8 fingers very abruptly enter his wet, wet pussy. Its secreting a green luminescent fluid I assume is his body's natural lubricant, and i find myself weirdly entranced by it. Entranced by the way it leaks out and down the seam of his ass and puddles onto the floor. Entrance by the stream crawling down my fingers to my wrist all the way down to my elbow.

I believe I'll have to extend my gratitude to Angela as well.

Genji choked on his tongue as his hips twitched sporadically, unsure whether or not to rock into the fingers or flinch away.

“How does it feel my student?” Genji lifts his head to stare at me with bright gleaming eyes. I can see tears brimming at the edges.

“T-too much~.” the cyborg chokes out.

“I thought you wanted more sparrow.” I tease a ninth finger around the spread edge. Genji tenses and sobs out a broken sound.

“F-f-fuck p-please Zenyatta.” A tear finally cascades down the scarred cheek of my precious bedmate and I feel shamelessly proud.

“My sweet, sweet 緑のスズメ.” Genji cries out and throws himself back against the floor. “You have to use your words or I cannot give you what you want.” Genji pauses and looks at me, truly looks at me, as if he were looking into me.”

“म तिमीलाई चाहन्छु”

The energy that surges through my body fizzles the luminescent hands and travels through Genji's body. We both gasp and groan at the sensation.

I had no idea.

I feel a warmth not attributed to arousal bloom within in the wires powering me. I am awash with endearment as the harsh Nepali is repeated through my mind.

“Of course, I apologize for my teasing sparrow. I had briefly forgotten that this is to relax you.”

I allow the hands to retreat from his stretched entrance to hold him. They pull him closer, cares his thighs slowly, gently. I let my own hardness rest against his entrance before I slowly press the head of it forward. Genji sighs and wraps his legs around my waist loosely. I take a moment before pushing in completely. The heat is something I don't think I could ever have imagined, the only thing comparable would be the Iris itself.

“How is it Genji?” The nin shoots a half-cocked smirk up at me and shifts hips closer to mine, wiggles his ass against me.

“You, you were built well.” I chuckle and start a slow pace.

I treat my movements like a gentle wave, and receive pleasure as like. It feels like an ocean of molten heat running through my body and lights up my circuits.

The embrace of the Iris heightens every sense and covers us both with a warm light. More hands begin to manifest and cover the cyborg in tantalizing and fleeting hot touches. Genji braces his hands on the floor and tries to set his own pace, faster his body begs. I am all too happy to appease. Hands lift his waist, angle him, pull him forward for a faster more desirable pace. Genji bites his lip and claws at the floor.

Metallic slaps join his voice in the broken rhythmic song our actions are creating. I lose control of pace and very quickly my own awareness. Things began to blur at the edges with blinding light. Genji appears in the same state through the haze. His hands curl around two of the many hands covering him. He's sobbing pleasure and I can feel deep inside him that he is close.

“Genji are y-”

“H-hai! A-a little more.~”

I curl over to press my face against his. it's the closest sentiment I can get to a kiss. Genji latches onto my neck and pulls my face closer, pressing sloppy wet kisses against it as he jerks violently in my grasp, panting hotly against my face as his insides clamp almost painfully around my length as he stills and rolls through his orgasm.

My vision burns and blacks out as I follow quickly after. When it comes back to I'm greeted with the sight of Genji, now free of the golden array of hands, panting and looking up me dazedly. He is, he is perfect and I've never been so happy in my life. This moment is precious, it is precious and everything I could ever desire in this world.

“愛する人よ、いかがお過ごしですか” The green hair tussles as he laughs. Most likely at my subpar Japanese. His hands trace the slight scratches left in the metal of my face.

“म शानदार छु, धन्यवाद”’

“Your Nepali has improved drastically. When have you been practicing?” The other giggles childishly and kisses me gently.

“Whenever I could find the time, I may have put off some meditation to do so.”

“Mm? For my sake? Genji you s-”

“I shouldn't have? It paid off didn't it?” He grins impurely. I laugh and pull out carefully, not wanting to touch anywhere too over sensitive. He sighs happily and pulls me to lay next to him.

“Do omnics get tired too?”

“Yes, I am anything but though.”

“Ah, a reinvigorating massage for you, a tiring one for me.”

“Genji.”

“Yes my master?”

“I know my feelings are not so easily understood but-”

“I understand your feelings Zenyatta. I know that you wouldn't have done something like this unless you harbored well,” He turns onto his side, the setting sun behind him, like a halo. “The same feelings I did. I wouldn't have asked such things if I didn't think this would be the outcome.”

“So am I to believe this is your way of confessing?” Genji laughs lowly.

“This comes to me a lot easier than words do.”

“I hope that doesn't stay the case, I wish you to be able to talk to me freely.”

“ I already do.”

“A lot of that is my interpretation of what you're trying to say.”

“And you interpret me so well.” I snort and run a hand through his hair.

“I hoped I helped?”

“Oh definitely, I'll have to repay you for such a lovely massage.”

“Oh? Do you have something in mind?”

“Wouldn't you like to know.” I laugh.

I shouldn't encourage him. Shouldn't encourage this behavior.

Though….

I suppose it couldn't do much harm….

We all deserve to be selfish sometimes.

[bloodywhisperlove]

CADDIS INITIATIVE PHASE ONE: INFECTION  Part Two

We spent the next month together.

Kiki took some time off to stay with me while I got used to the side-effects from the new medications.

The first few days were the worst, but after that, I began to even out and not feel so nauseous all the time, which was one hell of a relief, let me tell you.

I thought that I’d be stuck feeling like crap for months, but it only took a few weeks for me to start feeling like my old self again. I wasn’t as dizzy, nor as tired, and even though my legs still gave out sometimes, I was getting some of my strength back.

For the first time in over a month, I got a decent night’s sleep.

Unfortunately, I woke up early the next morning. If it weren’t for Kiki arguing on the phone, I would’ve slept until late that afternoon.

She was in the kitchen. Her voice traveled down the short hall and into the bedroom. The door was open just a crack and light from the kitchen spilled in.

I looked at the clock. It was 5:30 a.m.

Whoever called was important. Kiki didn’t get up much before noon on her days off.

“No. I told you, it’s all gone. There’s nothing left.”

I yawned and rolled over. I tried to get back to sleep, but I couldn’t. She was talking just a little too loud for that.

“Of course, of course. Yes. I did. No, no. The footage is corrupted. The samples are inconclusive.”

Ah. She’s talking about work. 

I put an arm over my face to block out the light.

“What! Are you sure?”

The tone of her voice made me sit up. Something wasn’t right.

“They’re dead? All of them?”

She better be talking about fish and not people…

Kiki sighed. “Yes, yes. I understand. I’ll see you at the lab. One o’clock. Yes! I’ll be there. Goodbye.” She hung up. “Shit!” she shouted and threw her phone against the living room wall. I heard her scrambling to dig it out from behind the couch.

Yawning, I got out of bed and shuffled to the living room to see what was going on.

Kiki was bent over the back of the couch, her bare ass up in the air, her pink satin nightgown had slipped up when she dove to reach behind it.

I was sorely tempted to smack it, but I decided not to. She was in a bad mood. Doing that would only direct her anger at me. I didn’t feel like dealing with that, so I behaved.

For once.

“Hey there, sweet cheeks. Everything all right?” I asked, startling her. She bumped her head on the wall as she stood up.

“Ow,” she said, rubbing her forehead. Her phone was in her other hand.

“What’s going on? Who were you arguing with?”

“Oh, it’s nothing. They’re just threatening to pull the grant money.”

“Again? I thought you guys convinced them that you’re on the right track.”

“Well, we did. But there’s been some…complications.”

I stifled a yawn. “What kind of complications?”

“Sabotage. At least, that’s what it sounds like.”

“Seriously?”

“The college board of directors thinks that someone actively sabotaged our work in Belize, and they want answers. Glassner is livid. He thinks that the college is purposefully looking for an excuse to shut us down.”

“You never mentioned this before.”

“Because it wasn’t that big of a deal. I mean, yeah, someone stole our research materials and dumped them in the ocean, but we got proof that they worked. The Caddis Initiative formula, the one that we helped create, it had cured coral bleaching. So the board of directors backed down. But now—” she sighed and made a helpless gesture with her hands.

I took them and put her phone down on the coffee table.

“Sit with me chamo. Tell me what happened.”

She sat on the couch and leaned into me. I wrapped my arms around her and gave her a hug. She squeezed my arms and held them close.

I gave her a moment to calm down before I asked, “So, was that your boss on the phone?”

“Yes. Professor Glassner wanted to give me a heads up. He thinks that corporate will send someone to interview us. And that could put us back weeks in our research. We’re at a delicate time in our studies. We can’t afford to put things on hold again.”

“You sure that’s all? Sounded like it was worse than that. Like something, or someone, had died.”

“Oh.”

“Did someone die?”

“What? No.” She waved it off with a nervous laugh. “It was just the fish we were using as test subjects. No one died. It’s not that bad. And you know, if we lose the grant money, I’ll still have a job teaching as adjunct faculty with him. He won’t lose his position as department head.”

“More like fish head.”

“I can’t believe you still say that stupid line.”

“I think it’s funny.”

“I know. I just…I don’t need this right now. I have enough to deal with. Why does everything always happen all at once?”

“That’s life chamo. No way to avoid it. It’s just how the universe works.”

“Well, it’s stupid. Fix it.”

“Take it up with God. I’m not the miracle worker. He is.”

“God is an artificial social construct invented by man to make sense of death and random horrible life events.”

“If you say so.”

Kiki was an atheist. I was raised Catholic. It was an interesting combination, to say the least.

“Hey, I’m sorry I woke you. I didn’t realize that I was being so loud.”

“It’s fine. I wasn’t sleeping well anyway. The new drugs give me weird dreams.”

“But, they’re keeping you alive, until they can find a way to safely operate on you, so there’s that.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m hungry. Make me breakfast woman.”

She chuckled. “You know that you only get away with saying that because I love you, right?”

I kissed her forehead. “Yup.”

“Good. Then, I’ll start breakfast.”

“Excellent.”

I wandered back to the bedroom and got dressed.

Sabotage? 

That kind of was a big deal. 

Why didn’t she tell me about this sooner? She had plenty of time since she returned from her research trip to tell me. Did she honestly think that it wasn’t that big of a problem? Or did she not want me to worry about it? 

It didn’t sit right with me.

Kiki had seemed a bit distracted for a few weeks after she came back, but I figured that it was just jet lag and the stress from getting her teaching lessons ready.

But, maybe it wasn’t.

Maybe she was worried about her project, and what it would do to the sea life. I mean, I was no brilliant marine biologist working on getting a doctorate. I was a licensed plumber. I worked at the water treatment plant. But even I knew that just dumping experimental chemical compounds into the ocean wasn’t a good idea.

Plankton ingests that crap, bigger animals eat them, they in turn, are eaten by larger fish and so on. The substances build up in the larger fish’s bodies—like mercury for instance—and by the time we go to eat them, they are at toxic levels.The ocean is a fine-tuned ecosystem.

Tip the scales too much in one direction, and there could be catastrophic results. It was odd that she would keep this from me. Sure, Kiki kept secrets, but she always was upfront with me about things.

At least, I thought that she was, until now.

Made me wonder just what else she was keeping from me.

I sat on the couch and put my feet up on the coffee table while she started breakfast.

Bowser kept jumping on my chest, trying to lick my face. He wagged his tail, and bounced everywhere, tongue lolling about and he tried to give me what Kiki affectionately called “kisses.”

Dog slobber was nasty. “Ugh. Get down.” I pushed his stupid little butt until he jumped off the couch.

“Kiki, where did you put the TV remote?”

“On the side table, with all of your other remotes.”

“Of course,” I muttered. “Why would I look anywhere else?”

She was in the kitchen, making pancakes. She loved making breakfast. Her cooking wasn’t terrible. It wasn’t the greatest, but it was edible.

“Did you find it?” she asked as she wiped her hands on a cute little frilly white apron with a pair of red lips on it that said KISS THE COOK.

If I wore it, it’d be hideous, but everything she wore looked super cute.

“Yeah. I found it. You don’t have to come over here.”

“You sure?” she asked and Bowser ran over to her and jumped on her leg until she reached down and picked him up. “Who’s a cutie patootie? You are, yes you are,” she said and kissed his nose.

He licked her face and she giggled.

“Hey, don’t let the pancakes burn.”

“Oh, fudge crackers,” she said and dropped Bowser and rushed back to the stove top and flipped the pancakes. “Crap!”

“Uh-huh.”

“Shut up. They’re fine. Just, a little over-done is all.”

“Whatever. You know that I’ll eat anything. I’m not picky.”

“You’re so sweet.”

The 8 o’clock morning news came on, and the reporter started talking.

“Hey, turn that up. I want to hear it.”

I turned up the volume on the TV.

The reporter stood outside the fence of the water treatment plant I worked at.

“Over the past few weeks, the CDC has received numerous calls from fishermen and medical officials of Sausautucket, New Jersey. A mysterious new disease is affecting the wildlife, and the townsfolk as well.”

“Oh no,” Kiki said. “It’s in the news now? How many people have come down with it?”

“No idea. I thought they were going to say something about the water treatment plant, but they were just using it as a back drop to start the segment. I was just about to call Frankie to tell him to check it out.”

A guy on the TV showed the reporter a sore on his arm. It was a red oval lesion, with a silvery blister bubble in the center.

“Yeah, I had three that burst on my back last night, and this one showed up this morning. The docs don’t know what to make of it. They just send me home with antibiotics, but they ain’t doing squat,” the man said.

“This is just one example of the strange, unidentifiable disease that’s affected the town of Sausautucket. While it does not appear life threatening, it is painful enough to send people to the hospital in droves. 

“Some locals think that it is linked to bacterial contamination of the water supply, and they have blamed the old filtration units of the water treatment plant, which is currently scheduled for renovation this fall. We asked Superintendent Franklin Kelly earlier, and he said that while the water company has no official stance on the matter, he assured me that the filtration units have all been tested by OSHA and are in healthy running conditions. Back to you, Jim.”

I turned down the TV.

“So no one knows what is causing it, huh?” Kiki asked.

“Nope. Not a clue.”

Bowser barked at her, ran over to the door and started scratching it.

“In a sec, puppy! Sheesh,” she said and took off the apron and threw it over the top of a chair.

“What about the pancakes?”

“Ugh! Just, flip them when they start to bubble. I’ll be back in a minute” she said, sliding on her sandals. She grabbed Bowser’s pink leash, hooked it to his collar and stepped out of the apartment.

I sighed and walked over to the kitchen.

She’s crazy if she thinks I won’t murder these things. I’m a horrible cook.

I grabbed the spatula and stood over the pan. I held it like a baseball bat and swung it over the stove.

Outside, Bowser growled and started barking. I heard Kiki shout at him to shut up, and he continued barking like a madman. He must've seen a squirrel or something.

The pancakes started to bubble.  I tried to flip them over, but they didn't turn and became a mushy pile of batter in the pan.

“Perfect pancakes every time,” I said, mocking that stupid infomercial they keep playing for the PERFECT PANCAKE MAKER. It’s just a waffle iron with the grid removed. Definitely not worth $29.95 plus shipping.

Bowser yelped.

Damn, that little dog is freaking loud. I wonder what he got into now?

I turned off the stove burner and slid the pancake lumps onto the plate. No way I could make anything edible. She could deal with it.

My phone beeped.

Kiki sent me a text that read, “COME OUTSIDE!!!!!”

Bowser probably got away from her again and was hiding underneath the apartment dumpster out back. He’s done that every time she took him out this week. The little bastard was obsessed with something he thought was under there.

Maybe he smelled a dead rat.

I put on my shoes and grabbed my keys, locking the door behind me before easing my way down the steps and out the side door of the apartment complex. An ambulance streaked by with the siren wailing.

It was the third one this morning. Stupid tourists. There were always more ambulances out once tourist season started.

“Where are you chamo?”

“Over here! By the dumpster.”

Called it.

Kiki was squatting by the rusty green dumpster and poking at something with a short stick. Her blue ruffled mini-skirt hiked up high on her thighs. Her panties peeked out from under them. They matched the skirt and had delicate white lace trim around the edges.

Nice.

“Who you giving fan service to?” I asked and flipped up the back of her skirt.

Kiki reached back with one hand and pulled it down.

“No one. Jeez!”

“What are you doing down there? Helping Bowser fish for roaches?”

“No.”

“What then?”

She grinned at me.

“I found something.”

“Found what? Where’s Bowser?”

“I tied him to the tree over there so he wouldn’t get bit.”

“Bit by what?” I asked and tried to look around her.

“Wait a sec.” Kiki put out a hand to block me. “I want to take a picture and send this to Professor Glassner before it moves again.”

“Oh, the college guy? The one you're in love with? Didn’t you talk to him enough this morning?”

“No. Not him, the other one.”

“Oh. Him. I see. Carry on.”

I leaned against the dumpster as she took pictures.

“Okay Bam Bam, come here and check it out,” she said as she sent a text. “I want to see what Prof thinks it is. I've never seen anything like it before.”

I popped a squat next to her.

“So, what are we looking at exactly?”

“Some sort of marine creature I think.”

In front of the dumpster was a legless purple crab the size of a football. It was covered in a lumpy, pulsating pile of white slime. 

The slime wiggled like Jell-O when she poked it with a stick.

“How did it get here?” I asked.

“A bird probably dropped it. Could’ve picked it up off the beach thinking it could eat it or something.”

“Stop messing with it, you’re going to piss it off.”

“I’m trying to observe its response to physical stimuli.”

“You’re poking it with a stick.”

“Don’t question me while I am performing the scientific method.”

“All right, have it your way.”

The creature chittered, and a crab leg unfolded up out the top center of the shell with a loud crack.The leg batted the stick away.

“What the hell? What is that?” I asked, and took a step away from it.

“I don't know. Isn't that great? Becca, this could be a new marine species!”

“A mutant crab? I highly doubt it.”

“You lack imagination.” Her phone chimed and she looked at it. “Prof just texted me. He wants me to bring it to the lab. Help me find something to put it in.”

I spotted a piece of cardboard on the concrete grabbed it.

“Hey, why don't we use the dog carrier?  We’ll shove that thing into it with this, and zip it up tight. After we eat, you can drive it over to the lab and drop it off.”

“Good idea. You're the best Bam Bam.”

“Why do I get the feeling that I'm going to regret this?”

She leaned over and kissed me.

“I'll make sure that you won't. Here’s the car keys.”

I popped opened the back hatch of her Mini Cooper. I looked at the dog carrier and had second thoughts.

If that crab was covered in a nasty parasite or bacteria, and we couldn't clean it properly, it could infect Bowser.

Damn.

I shut the door, tossed the cardboard scrap aside and went back over to her. Bowser was yipping and growling, bouncing back with each bark, digging up grass with his claws as he went.

“Shh! Bow-Bow. Be quiet.” Kiki pointed her finger at him. He ignored her and kept right on barking.

“Oh yeah. He's trained real good there, chamo.”

“Where’s the carrier? Did I forget it at my place?”

“No. It’s in there. But it’s not going to work.”

“Why not? It’s big enough, right?”

“No, that’s not the issue…Ugh. All this excitement is making me lightheaded. I’m getting dizzy.” 

Kiki grabbed my arm and helped me over to sit on the back steps.

“Sit here a minute.”

“Thanks.”

I took a deep breath and waited for the world to stop spinning.

“As I was saying, for all we know, that thing could be infected with a nasty disease. If we put Bow-Bow in the carrier afterward, and we don’t clean it out well enough? He could get whatever it has and end up being dissected in a lab.”

“Crap. You’re right. I guess we need a box and something to scoop it up with.”

“Sure, let me just pull a shovel out of my ass and we'll pick it up.”

“The apartment complex has a snow shovel by the back door. We could use that.”

“Oh yeah. And maybe if you ask the complex manager nicely and show him your tits he’ll let you keep it.”

“Good idea. I’ll go find him now.”

“You're an idiot.”

“Well, you're the one who loves an idiot, so what does that make you?”

“The smart one in this relationship. Duh. Keep your shirt on and let me think a minute.”

She laughed.

Behind her, the weird crab quivered and shook.

“Oh neat,” Kiki said and walked back over to look at it.

“Hey, don’t get too close.”

Bowser whined. He sounded scared.

The slime coating shivered, then pulled tight against the crab’s body, and disappeared. Like it was rapidly absorbed.

“Chamo, come back here, it could be dangerous,” I said and gently pulled her over to stand next to me.

There was a sharp bone-cracking sound. The shell shrank to about half its size, and ten crab legs popped up from the top and unfolded, pulling the remnants of the white jelly into strings as they parted open.

It was almost as if it had just made the legs out of its shell.

But…that wasn’t possible. Was it?

“Madre de Dios,” I said and crossed myself.

Kiki grabbed my shoulders and hid behind me, using my body as a shield as we watched it move.The legs were all over, sticking up at odd angles on the top and sides of its body. They twitched and stretched out, tentatively touching the asphalt. They weren’t in the right spots for it to walk with them; some barely reached the ground, others were at awkward angles that would not support its weight.

“What is that?” I whispered.

“I don’t know.”

As we stood and stared, the base sockets of the legs were pushed out of the crab body by tiny orange roots. Like weird alien tentacles, the roots walked the legs, sockets and all, down to the sides of the shell, where they wriggled and burrowed back into the body.

“It has free-floating legs. How is that possible?” she asked.

“No clue. You're the marine biologist. You tell me.”

Kiki shoved her phone past my head to record a video as it stood up and took slow, measured, jerking steps towards Bowser.

There was no telling what it would do if it got a hold of him.

I had to stop it with something before anyone got hurt.

There was an empty milk crate sitting by the back door. The ground was littered with cigarette butts, so it had to be our downstairs neighbor, Mrs. Waters. She liked to sit when she smoked.

“Stay here. Don't let that thing get close to you,” I said.

“And what are you going to do?”

“Save your stupid dog before he gets eaten.”

I walked towards the back door, my head pounding with the start of one hell of a migraine.Kiki picked up the stick she was poking it with earlier and tossed it at the crab. It startled, pulled all its legs close, then made a strange angry hissing sound.

“Kiki!”

“What?”

“Why did you do that? You’re pissing it off.”

“I had to see if its eyes worked the same way as a normal crab’s.”

“Do they?”

“Yes. Its eyes can sense motion by detecting changes in light and shadows,” she said. “If you don’t move fast, it won’t see you.”

“Like the T-Rex in JURASSIC PARK, right? It can't see me if I'm standing still?”

“Yup. Exactly like that.”

I took a step and waited.

The crab inched toward me.

I took another step and stopped.

It did the same.

The distance between myself and that thing was longer than the distance to the back door. If I timed it right, I could make it to the milk crate just before the mutant crab reached me.

Keeping my eyes on it, I took slow, long strides on shaking legs over to the crate.

With each step, it moved closer to me.

“Be careful Becca.”

“I got this. Just stay calm.”

When I was an arm's length away I rushed for the crate. The crab skittered fast towards me; its legs digging into the asphalt, scraping deep white lines as it went.

I snatched up the milk crate and slammed it over the creature just as it tried to spear me with a leg.The crab grunted and squeaked. Long, black needle-sharp quills popped out of the top of its shell.  I pulled my hands away before it could stick me with them.

I snatched the large rock Mrs. Peters used to prop open the back door and set it on the milk crate, anchoring it in place, and stepped back.

The crab stopped quivering. The needles pulled back into its body, which then turned a threatening bright red.

“Holy crap! It has chromatophores too?” Kiki shouted.

“It has what now?”

“Skin cells that let octopi and chameleons change their skin color.”

“Ah.”

One of its front legs cracked loudly as it elongated and doubled in size. A set of finger-length, mottled lilac pincers formed on the end.

The pincered leg touched the milk crate in different spots like it was exploring the points to find where the bars intersected on the sides.

“Are you okay?” Kiki asked. “You’re shaking pretty bad.”

“Yeah. I’m fine. It didn’t get me.”

“You sure?”

“I’m good. Really, I’m fine.”

She picked up Bowser and carried him over.

“Oh man. This is so scary, and yet so cool.”

“Chamo, that thing tried to attack us. Why are you happy about it?”

“Because it's unique. We're looking at what could be an entirely new species of animal. It’s exciting!”

“And that's a good thing?” I asked, eying it cautiously.

“Yes. Because we discovered it.”

“You know, if you take it to the college, the science department heads will get all the credit for it.”

“No, they won't. They’re not like that.”

Bowser wriggled, trying to break free from her arms, and she held him tighter.

“You kidding? That's the way the world works. You're the lowly peasant. You get no credit.”

“Boo. But, we should still take it to Professor Glassner. We need to study this. It could be super important. I mean, what if you're right and it has a contagious disease that we've never seen before?”

I sighed.

“Fine. But we're going to need something better than a milk crate to carry it. I have an empty storage tub upstairs. That should hold it. We can throw it out when we’re done. I’ll go get it.”

“You sure you want to run up and grab it? I mean, I could do it for you. You can stay here, and watch Bow-Bow and the crab.”

“I’ll be fine. We’re on the second floor. I'll only be a few minutes, tops. Just don't let anyone near it. Tell them it's poisonous or something.”

“Okay. Be careful Bam Bam. Don’t run on the stairs and fall and hurt your head. I’d hate to have to take you to the hospital again.”

“I’ll be careful, promise,” I said and went inside, going up the stairs as fast as I dared, gripping the handrail to support myself.

She was right, the last thing I needed was to fall and crack my head open. I opened my door and rushed inside, leaving the keys in the lock and the door wide open. With shaking hands, I grabbed the empty clear storage tub, made sure that the lid would seal tight and locked the door.

I double-checked to make sure I had my keys, then rushed down the stairs. I didn’t hear Mrs. Waters walking up to her apartment and ran right into her, then bounced my hip on the end of the rail and caught myself before I fell and smacked my head on the floor.

“Damn it.”

“Oh my!  I’m so sorry! Are you hurt?” she asked, and took my arm with a pudgy hand to help steady me. Her floral mumu dress was a wall of powder blue fabric with large tropical flowers sticking their tongues out at the world. It was lurid, yet kitschy at the same time.

“Thanks. No, I’m not hurt. Sorry about that. I’m kind of in a hurry.”

“Oh? Where's the fire?”

“At your mom's,” I said and she laughed as I stepped outside.

Kiki stood there, holding the doggy carrier—now with Bowser inside—watching the crab with wide eyes.

“Did you turn off the stove?” she asked.

“Yeah. I did that before I came out.”

“Cool. You know, I have to admit, this is rather unsettling. Something’s really off about this thing. I don't like how quickly its body changed. I mean, those needles weren't there before. They weren't hiding in the mess of silver mucous or its lumpy shell. It made its legs and those quills in response to feeling threatened by us. Crabs can't change their bodies like that. It's just not natural.”

“You’re right. They don’t. Go pull your car up. I’ll  put the crab in this and we’ll head straight to the college.”

“Sure,” she said and got into her car. She backed it out of the parking spot and pulled up beside the dumpster.

I stepped over to the milk crate.

While I was gone, two of the crab legs had moved closer to the front and had turned into serrated half-claws.  They were sawing through the plastic arms of the crate’s grid.

Kiki rolled down her window and popped open the passenger side door. 

“When did it get those?” I asked.

“Just now, I think.”

“Wonderful. Just give me a sec and I’ll scoop it up.”

Kiki nodded and gripped the steering wheel tight.

She was nervous.

So was I.

“This is loco. Why am I doing this?” I asked myself as I slowly walked up to the crate.I slowly tilted one end of the milk crate up and slid the tub lid under it. The crab legs lifted to allow the lid to slide under its body.

I did this once with a spider I caught in a glass cup on the table. I had slipped a piece of paper under the rim of the glass and kept pushing it across. The spider calmly walked onto the paper, just as the crab was doing now with the plastic lid. Once the lid was completely under the crab, I flipped the tub upside-down and set it over the milk crate. I pushed down and snapped it into the lid, securely shutting the crate and the strange crab inside.

I carefully lifted up the tub, still holding it upside down, and walked it over to the car.

“This thing is heavier than it looks. Be careful,” I said as I handed her the tub.

“Whoa. You weren't kidding. How much do you think it weighs?”

“Off the top of my head? Probably 25 pounds or so.”

“Wow.”

I got into the passenger seat, buckled the seat belt, and took the tub from her.

“Ready?” she asked.

“Let’s do this.”

Kiki backed up fast, kicking up gravel as she turned her Mini Cooper around and drove out onto the main road.

I could almost hear the gears turning in her head. It was like she couldn’t decide if she should be excited or scared about all of this.

“This is just, incredible. I mean, this is really, really exciting stuff here.”

“I don't know, something isn't right about all of this.”

“Why? Because it's exhibiting behavior never before observed in animal life on Earth?”

“Yes. That's exactly why I think that. It's unnatural. It is of el Diablo.”

“Oh, no. Don't go getting all superstitious on me now.”

“I can't help it. I'm Latina. Catholicism is in my blood.”

“Right. How silly of me to forget,” she said and pulled onto the street that led to the community college.

Bowser whined from inside of his carrier on the backseat.

“See? Even your dog doesn’t trust that thing.”

“Oh, Bow-Bow whines like that every time I take him in the car. That’s normal.”

“If you say so.”

Plastic snapped inside the tub, making me jump.

“What was that?” she asked.

“It’s breaking the crate apart.”

Kiki whistled. “Aggressive little bugger, huh? Here, text Professor Glassner and tell him we’ll bethere in a few minutes.”

She handed me her phone and I looked at her funny.

“What?”

“I hate your phone, it’s retarded.”

“Is not. You’re just an iThingie hater.”

“Whatever.”

I figured out what app to hit and selected Professor Glassner from the list and sent him a text.

He replied right away with,“Meet me at the back door.”

“He said to meet him at the back door, and to leave your panties in the car.”

“He did not. Shut up.”

“Oh, I don’t know. I think someone’s prof is a pervert.”

“Idiot. Give me the phone.”

I handed it to her and she glanced at the text and gave me a look.

“You are so stupid.”

“You should know better than to believe me when I say things like that.”

“I guess so.”

Kiki parked the car next to the side door of the marine sciences building.

“Hold on, I’ll get the door for you,” she said, and came around the side and popped open the car door. I gave her the tub so that I could climb out of her little clown car, and then took it from her.

Kiki grabbed Bowser's carrier from the backseat.

“Leave him.”

“I can’t. It’s too hot to leave him in the car.”

“Fine. Whatever. Let’s go, this is getting heavy. I probably shouldn’t even be carrying it.” 

She gave me an apologetic look and we walked towards the faculty entrance, where ProfessorGlassner opened the door and let us in.

“This way ladies, we’ll take it to the lab.”

He ushered us to his classroom.

Kiki held the door for me and I walked inside.

“Set it down over here please,” he said and I gently placed the tub on the lab table.

The professor locked his door and then lowered all the window blinds.

“It's not a gremlin, prof. It's not going to burn up in sunlight or anything,” I said.

“Can't have prying eyes looking at this before we get to study it in detail. There's no way I'm letting Doctor Collins get the credit for this.”

He brushed back his thinning brown hair with a hand and straightened his rumpled lab coat.That coat seriously needed bleaching, and his old worn Oxford shoes slid over the tiled floor as he walked. Not exactly the safety oriented type. In fact, he looked like the type to forget about important, dangerous things.

I gave Kiki a look. She grinned sheepishly and shrugged. She liked Professor Glassner.

She trusted him.

Silly girl.

“Kiki, you didn’t introduce us,” he said.

“This is my friend, Rebecca Espinoza. Everyone calls her Becca. Becca, this is Professor Glassner.”

“I kind of figured,” I said.

“Oh, you must be the one that was in the hospital that she was telling me about the other day. How has the medication been working for you?”

“Excuse me?”

“You have a brain hemorrhage condition. What’s it called?” He snapped his fingers. “Cerebral cavernous malformation. That’s the name of it right?”

“I don’t see how that’s any of your business.” 

“Ah. Kiki didn’t say that it was a sensitive subject for you. Forgive me for bringing it up.”

“Oh, it’s nothing. It just killed my mom and aunt. It’s not a big deal at all.”

“I’m so sorry to hear that. You know, you could sign up for a new trial drug they’re testing for it. It could help with some of the symptoms.”

“I’m fine. Thanks.”

My heart was pounding.

I was pissed.

Son of a bitch. 

Kiki told him I was sick. 

She promised me she wouldn’t tell anyone.

Not only that, but she said that she wasn’t going to lie about us anymore. And she introduced me as a friend?

A friend?

Unbelievable.

The room tilted a foot to the right and I grabbed onto the edge of the lab table to steady myself. If I got too mad, and my blood pressure spiked, I could be in serious trouble.

I took a deep breath and tried to calm down.

“What’s wrong?” Kiki asked.

“Nothing. Just dizzy. I’m going to sit over here until we go if you don’t mind.”

“Sure.”

I hopped up on a stool, leaned my back against the lab table and waited for the room to stop spinning.

She told him about my illness, but not that we were dating? 

I thought that I was used to it, but I wasn't.

Kiki still hasn’t told anyone that she’s gay. No one she went to school with or worked with knew about us. 

Besides, wasn’t she going to “turn over a new leaf” and let people know the truth about her? About us?

Fucking figures. 

She isn’t ever going to change, is she?

“Well then, let’s open this up and take a look at what we’ve got here,” Glassner said and popped off the tub lid.

“Be careful,” Kiki warned. “It reacts fast. It’s surprisingly agile. And it keeps physically adapting its body to new stimuli.”

“Adapting. In what way?”

“Growing legs and quills out of nowhere,” I said.

“Really? I find that highly implausible.”

“Whether you believe it or not Professor, that thing is hyper adaptive. I’ve never seen a marine animal change its body so drastically in such a short amount of time. It’s almost as though it came into contact with something that’s forcing its body to change.”

They exchanged a look that made me uneasy.

They knew something and they weren't telling me about it.

But why?

He stood close to her as he removed the tub.

Bowser whined and I took the carrier from Kiki.

“Oh, thanks, Becca.”

“Sure,” I said and put it on the lab table next to me.

Bowser looked around, sniffed the air, his pointed ears moving this way and that as he tried to figure out where he was now.

I looked at him and whispered, “I hope that thing bites him. You?”

He sneezed in reply.

I was pretty sure that meant yes.

Glassner put the tub on the side of the lab table and whistled.

The serrated half-claw legs were busy sawing apart the thick plastic rungs on the milk crate.Bits of the black plastic was covering the top of the crab in places like spikes of armor. It looked like it removed the rungs and shoved them into its shell.

“What in the world are you?” he asked and squatted down so that he was eye-level with the table and looked at the mouths on its underside. “Mandibles and chelipeds on the abdomen? I wonder if they all lead to its stomach or if they’re vestigial?”

“Who knows?” I said. “You got a cage or a tank that thing can fit in? You don’t want it roaming around here. It’ll tear this place apart.”

“Good point. There’s a spare tank next door. I’ll go grab it,” he said and stepped out of the room.

Kiki stood there, watching the crab as it cut the milk crate apart.

“That plastic crate is thick. It’s hard to bend or cut through,” she said.

“Yup. That’s why I grabbed it.”

“So, how is it ripping it apart so quickly?”

I eased off the stool and stood by her. “Those claws, they look crazy sharp.”

“They do. There’s metal lining them now. They’re like serrated knives or a saw. Holy crap dude, this is insane.”

I pointed.

“Check it, there’s a mouth on the front now.”

It looked like the main mouth of the crab, except the mandibles were longer with hooked ends. It looked more like a squid's beak than a crab's mandibles.

“Whoa. That looks super dangerous.”

“It didn’t before? What are you, stupid?”

“No. What’s your problem?”

“I have a killer headache and I’m hungry,” I said as Glassner came back in carrying a large fish tank with a metal lid.

He set it down on the table.

“This is reinforced fiberglass,” he said, rapping his knuckles against the side of the tank. “I got it last year when a student was studying mantis shrimp. Those things can hit the bottoms of tanks so hard, they crack the glass.”

“Damn. That’s impressive.”

“They’re very interesting creatures. The lid clamps down on it, so the crab will have a difficult time pushing it up and off it.”

“What do you think it eats?” Kiki asked.

“Miniature Pinschers,” I said and she hit my arm.

“I would hazard to guess that it would consume what other crabs in the area eat. What beach did you find this on?” he asked.

“Um. We didn’t find it at the beach. It was outside Becca’s apartment building, hiding by the dumpster.”

“Eating the concrete,” I added.

“Eating…the concrete?” he said and raised an eyebrow.

“Seriously?” Kiki asked.

“Yup. There’s a hole in it now. I noticed it as we were driving away. It cut a disk clean out of the parking lot.” “That’s bizarre. I’d love to see it. Got a picture of it?”

“No,” Kiki said. “We thought it best to come straight here. I’ll take a picture and send it to you when we get back.”

Good idea. I’m going to go grab some Kevlar gloves and then we’ll gently slide the specimen into the tank. Becca, would you mind helping Kiki move the tank onto a pair of stools and holding it steady while we transfer it?”

“Only if I get gloves too,” I said and he shot me a look. “What? You want me to catch something nasty from it? I’m not getting that close without some sort of protection on my hands.”

“Becca has a point,” Kiki said. “Its legs are quite long. For all we know, it can hyper-extend them and hit us as we try to move it.”

Glassner stood there, watching the crab for a moment.

“You’re right. I’ll get three pairs.”

He walked over to the closet in the lab and pulled out three metal meshed gloves and gave us both a pair to put on.

“I thought you said these were Kevlar,” I said while sliding them on.

“They’re Kevlar-lined steel mesh gloves. We use them to handle sharks.” Kiki flexed her fingers in her gloves. “Bring that stool over here, will you?”

I picked up the stool and placed it next to the one she grabbed from another lab table. We picked up the fish tank and set it on them.

Kiki took off the lid and tipped it on its side.

“You hold that, and as soon as that thing gets in here, put it on,” I said and Kiki nodded.

“We’ll tip the tank upright after we’ve secured it,” Glassner said.

“Yup. Let’s do this,” I said and held the tank steady.

Glassner took a deep breath. “Right,” he said and held his hands awkwardly over the crab. It stopped ripping off a piece of the bottom of the tub and all of the clawed legs raised upward towards his hand and started snapping at him.

“Oh my,” he said. “Uh…”

I sighed.

“Put your hands down. It follows motion. Just grab the end of the tub lid and slide it over, like you said you were going to do in the first place.”

“Yes. I did say that, didn’t I?”

“Yup.”

Kiki watched, her eyes wide. “Be careful Prof.”

“Always,” he said. “All right. On three. One. Two. Three.”

He shoved the lid off the lab table and into the huge tank. The large crab skittered up the lid and onto Glassner’s arm. He cried out, startled as it pinched his lab coat and tried to rip it off of him. Without thinking I grabbed the back of the crab and yanked it off and shoved it into the tank.

Kiki slammed the lid down and locked the clasps in place.

“Bam Bam, your gloves.”

My hands were bare.

The gloves were gone.

I looked at the tank.

My gloves were stuck to the sides of the crab.

“I did not mean to do that.”

“No harm in it,” Glassner said.

There were a few rips in his lab coat sleeves, but no blood. It didn’t look like it hurt him.

“Are you two uninjured?”

“I’m fine,” Kiki said.

“It didn’t get me. It just stole my gloves.”

“But your hands,” Glassner said. “They’re scraped up.”

I looked at them. Scrapes ran over the tops of my hands.

They started to ooze little droplets of blood.

“Huh. That’s weird.”

“We should clean those out, just in case,” Kiki said and she grabbed my arm and walked me over to the sink.

Glassner brought the first aid kit and she washed out the scrapes on my hands.

“Does it hurt?” she asked.

“No. Should it?”

“I dunno. Just asking.”

“It’s fine,” I said and pulled my hands away. “I think I can handle washing my hands. Go help lover boy finish whatever it is you need to do to study it and let’s go home. I’m starving.”

“Um, sure,” she said, looking a little upset.

Whatever. She’s the one that’s lying to everyone about us. She has no right to be mad at me.

I finished washing my hands and dried them. I put a couple of bandages on the biggest scrapes.

It should've stung like a bitch, but it didn't hurt at all.

Was this a new symptom of my illness? Or was there something else wrong with me?

I sat and watched them move the tank with the crab onto a wheeled cart.

“I’m taking the next few days off, so I’m not going to leave this here. I’ll take it home to study it,” Glassner said.

“Are you sure? I mean, what if it’s dangerous?” Kiki asked.

“I’ve worked with dangerous marine animals in the past. I’ll be fine,” he said. Sweat was beading up on his forehead.

“You okay there Prof?” I asked. “You’re looking a bit pale.”

“I’m fine. It was just nerve wracking there for a moment.”

“Do you think it could be poisonous?” she asked.

“A poisonous crab? Highly doubtful,” he said and poured a little bit of water into the tank. The crab grunted and squeaked and pulled some of its legs of the sides of the tank and put them in the water.

“There you go, little guy. I’ll get you some food in a moment.”

He talked to it.

And I thought that my girlfriend was weird.

This dude was a fruitcake.

Kiki walked up to me and took my hands gently.

“Thanks for helping. We’ll be done soon.”

I pulled away from her. “Take your time. Don’t mind me.”

“What’s with the attitude?”

“Nothing. Just hurry up so we can leave. I’m starving.”

I ended up waiting half an hour as Kiki helped Professor Glassner load up some science tools and junk into his Jeep. I just sat there at the lab table, with my head resting on my arm.

I must've fallen asleep because Kiki startled me when she touched me.

“Hey. You okay?”

“Fine. You done yet?”

“We just need your help putting the tank into the back of the Jeep.”

I sighed. “All right.”

I followed her out the side door and into the faculty parking lot. Glassner stood next to the tank, watching the crab.

It had ripped off one of its arms, which was now coated in a layer of metal, and was scraping the bottom of the tank with its coarse-toothed edge.

The only thing that remained of my gloves were the rubber cuff threads. They were in a discarded pile in a corner of the tank.

“This is just absolutely fascinating,” he said.

“Yeah. Sure is,” I said and walked over. “What do you want me to do?”

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