#watches the fire in his eyes flicker from yellow to red. fizzle down to smoke and night.

[figthefruitfaeth]

Hurt - Nine Inch Nails (Bardcore | Medieval Style Cover)

anyway the party’s tiefling bard, eddie, playing this on the eve of the battle against Vecna

[dessam]

A little pre-Weapon XI AU thing centered around the retelling of how Devin died and the half-truths Max likes to spin.

Warnings for violence, blood mention, and backstabbing

Or: if two Plumbers were on a mission escaping a heliokinetic psychopath and one shot the other in the back would that be fucked up or what?

The universe always seemed to get the last laugh in, no matter what Devin was doing.

“Max, he’s getting closer!” 

Whether it was trying to make breakfast only to realize he didn’t have any eggs, or attempting to stop a galactic warlord from consuming stars on the weekend, he was always somehow the butt of a sick joke. 

This joke’s name was Ragnarok, and Devin wanted nothing more than to wash his hands of the monster. He’d also like to wash his hands of the stupid, stupid man in the co-pilot’s seat next to him.

“Ship won’t go any faster, Devin!” Max hollers back.

Rolling his eyes, Devin mutters under his breath: “Have you tried flapping your arms?”

His current partner - a certain Magister Maxwell Tennyson - seems to find the whole bit some sort of joke, and was laughing through their last narrow escape from Ragnarok. Tennyson isn’t at all perturbed by the villain rapidly gaining on them, and a little voice in the back of Devin’s mind pipes up to remind him: you can’t trust a single one of them, not even your partner.

Which, obviously, was a lesson he had known long before he became a Red Spot, but was now a mantra he spoke every single time an incident like this happened. 

Of all the bloody people to be partnered with, Maxwell Tennyson was a name at the bottom of a long, long list of Plumbers that--

“You with me?”

A voice cuts through Devin’s thoughts, and his partner is looking at him from the corner of his eye, grinning.

“What?” He says shortly, on edge.

“I said: Ragnarok really wants what we took, huh?”

Devin bites his tongue, resists the urge to snarl back that it’s his fault they’re in this bloody mess, that they had the element of stealth right until Max had to blunder their escape and alert every being with working cochlear nerves they were onboard Ragnarok’s ship. 

“We couldn’t let him slaughter six billion people just to get his hands on the Sun’s energy,” he says instead, shooting Max a mocking grin. “Not my fault he didn’t like you stealing the key that activated his energy vortex. You’re welcome, by the way, for me bailing you out of there.”

Max’s expression falls immediately, eyes snapping forward and hands tensing on the ship’s controls, all comradery gone. Devin’s partner was never very good at saying thank you.

CRACK

Lurching in his seat with a grunt, the bulkhead rattles around Devin as the nav system sputters and whines before fading, and he watches with dread as glowing instruments suddenly wink out one by one, the ship going dark. 

Next to him, frantically flicking switches and checking the backup system as it flashes a warning red, Max looks at Devin with wide eyes.

“Blast took out our engine couplings, our shields...we’re dead in space.”

Oh so slowly, a shadow overtakes them, plunging their vessel into darkness. 

Swallowing hard, Devin tests the controls, tries to think of their fastest way out of here, all while Max just stares dumbfounded up at the massive ship overtaking them. 

There’s a hissing vhmm from the rear door, and Devin glances back as the massive form of Ragnarok materializes in a blue haze onto their ship. 

Red eyes boring into his own, the warlord sneers at the two Plumbers, back straightened and fists clenched at his sides. 

“Where did you hide my key?” He speaks in a low snarl, lip curling back to reveal ugly yellowed teeth.

Devin shares a short look with Max, sees the gears turning in his partner’s brain.

Fuck this, he decides. 

Standing and drawing both of his blasters, Devin unloads shot after shot at the ship’s newest arrival, and the human next to him takes just a moment longer before standing and unloading the clip of his weapon at Ragnarok just the same. 

Ragnarok seems unperturbed, smoke clearing as the plasmabolts fizzle out, not a scratch on him. Devin growls, lunging behind cover with Max just as a vibrant yellow blast from Ragnarok takes out their ship’s main console with a resounding BOOM!

The blue halogen lights of the backup systems flicker before maintaining, secondary life support still online and running smoothly. 

It does little to calm Devin’s nerves as he presses his back to the offhand weapon’s console, and glances to Max at his side. 

His partner looks pale, staring straight ahead with his jaw clenched and right hand clutching his blaster. Devin watches him reload the clip in one movement without looking, recognizing the confirmed remaining charge of the weapon: seventy-three percent, glowing in luminous green. 

“I’m going to go for the Null Void projector,” he grips Max’s arm for a moment, forcing the human to look at him. “Cover me, understand?”

“Devin, wait--”

But he’s already up, sprinting towards the main weapon rack on the far wall, ducking under another blast from Ragnarok that singes the hair on the back of his neck. Behind him, he can hear Max swear something in terran before more plasmabolts are fired off, and Ragnarok roars in frustration. 

Devin slams his hand on the access panel, snatches the mobile Null Void projector from its rack just as another blast nearly takes him out, the explosion throwing him back against the port window and sending the Null Void projector clattering into the corner. 

“Devin!” Max hollars, lunging out from behind cover and sending another round of bolts at Ragnarok. 

The heliokinetic monster is grinning now, yellow energy glowing in his palms as he slowly stalks towards Max, and Devin has a split second to think before he focuses on an exposed electrical panel inches away.

Bingo. 

Yanking a glove off with his teeth, he grabs one of the loose wires as he stands and lets the raw energy pulse through his body, instantly feeling woozy. 

He only needs a short charge - thirty-five hundred watts should be enough - and the electricity extends from the fingertips of his left hand to the fingertips to his right hand, gathering at his wrist. Devin narrows his eyes, focuses, and fires.

A sharp blast of energy sparks off, lancing out to strike Ragnarok square in the back. 

He screams, sinks to one knee, and Devin grins in triumph, dropping the wire. 

The heavy smell of ozone hangs in the cockpit, and he tries to shake off the last jitters of electricity sparking off his hands before snatching the Null Void projector off the floor, levelling it at Ragnarok’s torso.

“Any last words?” He asks, unable to help the smug smile that crosses his face.

“You will know true suffering, Osmosian,” Ragnarok spits, pupils dots in a sea of dark red and yellow as he stares unblinking back at Devin. “This isn’t over, none of it. As long as you’re alive--”

Devin scoffs, flicks the trigger, and Ragnarok’s words turn to an enraged scream as he’s sucked backwards through the warped portal of the Null Void.

“Blah blah blah, you'll rue the day, et cetera. I’ve heard it all before.” Devin grins, sheathing the Null Void projector and inspecting the dark smear where Ragnarok once stood. 

He can hear his partner stand, and turns to double-check their nav system.

“Computers will need a reboot, but we should still be able to get a signal out for pickup. Could be worse, I suppose.” He sighs, drags a hand down his face, feels the start of a migraine coming on. “Not a bad shot, eh Max--?”

POW!

Blindingly white-hot pain overtakes him as he hears the sound of a blaster go off. Staggering, falling to one knee, hysteria instantly grips Devin’s mind. 

I’ve been shot. Max shot me.

His thoughts are confirmed as he collapses onto his side, glancing up blearily at the shape of his partner, silhouetted by the ship’s overhead lights. 

“I’m sorry, Devin, I’m so sorry. I had my orders.” Max rasps out, crouching beside him, taking one of his hands in his own.

Devin almost wants to laugh, or scream. To tell Max he’s a brainwashed idiot, that things didn’t have to be like this, that he could’ve found another way. Really, he doesn’t even know why he’s surprised at this point.

“Orders, eh?” He chokes out, tasting copper. “So Ragnarok was a distraction, to get me to slip up?”

Max shakes his head, squeezes Devin’s hand.

“No. Ragnarok was...he was supposed to finish you off back on his ship, quick and clean. But if you want something done right…Devin, I’m so, so sorry.”

“I know,” Devin gasps, agony shooting through his body with each syllable. “Max just, please, promise me one thing.”

His partner squeezes his hand a little tighter, nodding.

“Tell my wife and son I love them.”

Any compassion drains from Max’s face, taken over by horror and dawning realization. 

“Your what.”

Devin grins, finally knowing he got the last laugh in. Fuck you, universe.

[missblissy]

Rebirth (Chapter Eleven)

Alastor x Human!Reader ((Reincarnation!AU))

Prologue || One || Two || Three || Four || Five || Six || Seven || Eight || Nine || Ten || Eleven

It was unnecessarily dark. You looked around at Alastor’s bedside and did your best to lighten it up. You moved to a window and began to pull open the drapes, hoping the daylight might help. You were instead met with a red sky with permanent overcast and endless screams that seemed to vanish into silence as you closed the drape back up. So much for that idea…

You found some extra light switches to flip and in an instant the darkness vanished, aside from the shadows in the corners. You found yourself in a room so otherworldly, you weren’t sure it was entirely a room. The walls were decorated from an era long before your lifetime, with the majority of its color in a deep shade of red and black with gold to compliment in details and outlines. Everything about this room shared a reoccurring color pattern. Bookcases littered one corner, making it into a makeshift office of sorts with desks and cabinets as well. A bed stayed in the other corner where Alastor laid now, then a fireplace in another corner and the last one had several doors, however one of them poorly stood out. It looked like a shabby ply wood door you’d find on a hut or a cabin.

Pictures littered more than half of the wall space. Most of them were small and yellowed, with no color to them other than shades of brown. There were pictures of mostly people and larger paintings of places aside from one large portrait above the fireplace. It was large, definitely larger than you. The colors were faded in some places, while the paint had only started to crack in the smallest of fissures. It was like looking in a mirror, you saw yourself painted stoically onto the portrait hanging high above your head.

You took a deep breath in as you stared at your demon self, perfectly captured in oil sitting in a chair with Alastor who was off to the side and standing behind you. You both had smiles, but they were small, baring no teeth and relaxed. You were in a golden gown that looked straight off the red carpets of hollywood. It was long, with embroidered patterns all along the skirt and torso with long lace sleeves. Alastor didn’t look any different than how he did now, the only thing different about you was just your clothes at this point. You looked exactly like the demon staring back at you.

The sounds of Alastor’s soft snores fizzled in the air due to his static nature. You looked over your shoulder at him, watching him sleep for a moment before you looked back up at the painting. A breeze drifted by your shoulder, through your hair and caused the low fire to flicker only slightly more. Did someone open the door? No, it was still closed.

You looked over to the windows, nothing about them changed. As you turned your head, looking around the room slowly, you felt the breeze again…

“Scared yet?” Smoke started to encased you and you nearly screamed before a foggy hand slapped itself over your mouth. How could… smoke have mass? How could you feel it’s wispy skin? In a swirling whirlwind of shadows and smoke, it took the form of a dark body that looked very similar to Alastor’s own shadow… “Forgot little old Eon?” You could see his hollow eyes and mouth from the lack of mist in those areas. It moved and shifted as he spoke, “How are you?”

He moved away, floating wherever he liked while staring at you. It took you a second to respond, the Xanax was still in your system and it made you more and more groggy as time passed, “I’m fine,” You paused, “What do you want?”

Eon flicked a smokey ear and you could have sworn you saw the flash of an earring dangling away, “Clever girl,” He clicked his tongue once then rolled his eyes with a grin, “So smart! Gets straight to business!” He started to float around the room with crossed arms, “But I’m just dropping in, my vessel,” He paused and looked at Alastor’s sleeping figure, “Has taken on a lot of damage it seems. I haven’t seen him passed out like this in years,”

You weren’t sure what to say, “That’s nice of you… I guess,” That made him laugh. You’ve never heard such a hollow and empty laugh before. It was so small, quick and short.

Eon shrugged his shoulders and gazed at you with a sharp and toothy grin, “What about you? Why are you still here?”

“Because I look like this,” You held one of your arms up then gestured to all your new demonic features.

“Oh! That’s what’s different! I could hardly notice!” Another hollow laugh, it was a few seconds longer than the last one, “Is that it?” He asked, “You seem like you might be.... Looking… for something?”

You narrowed your gaze and pointed a look at Eon, “No,” You said quickly, “Stop trying to get in my head,” You walked past him and towards the fireplace. You stood there and held your hands out flat, taking in the warmth of the fire.

“I’m not trying anything,” Eon said with a false sense of innocence, “You’ve been asking questions all day about him,” He jabbed a thumb over his shoulder at Alastor, “You’ve been obsessing over a diary with nothing but him in it,” Eon moved his ever twisting and smoking body into the large chair resting beside the fireplace, “Seems like to me you’ve been given the perfect chance to finally answer all those questions once and for all,” He gave you a look, a smile, a lifted brow and some kind of twinkle in his empty eyes.

“Are you telling me to go through his stuff?”

“Maybe?” Eon shrugged and his grin only grew larger, “I mean, who knows how long he’s gonna sleep like a dead baby? Last time he was out for about a month or so. And the diary can only tell you so much, and Alastor doesn’t want to tell you anything at all.”

He had a point. You looked around the room again, trying your best to avoid eye contact with the portrait. Maybe you could just… look around a bit. Where would you even start? You looked back to Eon, you couldn’t believe you were waiting for his wicked influence to push you further down this hole.

As if he could read your thoughts, he chuckled lowly and got up from the chair, “I’d start with that,” He pointed to the corner of the room that looked like a neatly chaotic office space. Everything was in its place, but there was just too much of everything in the way to make it look any nicer than a cluster fuck of personal items.

The thing that stood out the most to you was a stone bird bath crammed into the corner and wedged between two bookshelves. Other wall shelves hung above it within the corner. They were littered with photos, jars, plates and other personal items. You tiptoed over, like Alastor could hear you walking despite being totally knocked out.

“What is it?” You asked Eon. He was still wandering around behind you, floating here and there like a leaf lost in the wind.

“It’s called a Water Well,” Eon explained smoothly, “It’s what demons used to use before phones were invented. It also can be used for other things as well,”

“Like?”

He chuckled slightly, “Why don’t you touch it and find out?”

You looked at him with a raised brow, “This thing isn’t gonna kill me, right?” Why were you even asking? And why would he tell you the truth? He just shrugged and smiled at you and waited.

You peered into the Water Well, it’s water slowly rippled from within, creating small waves that lapped at the edges of the bowl. You reached out then paused with great hesitation. You were scared something bad was going to happen, and yet at the same time you didn’t seem to care all that much, maybe that was from the help of the Xanax.

Eventually you hovered your hand over the bowl filled with water. You quickly dipped a finger into it’s chilly embrace then yanked your hand away as if you expected to be attacked. Instead you were met with a faint blue glow that sparkled underneath the surface of the water.

Soon you could clearly see the image coming through. You found yourself staring into a one way window. One side was you, peering into the depths of the well, and on the other side was your family. Your mom and your dad. They were in the hospital and you could see them through one of the hospital windows. Your father was sleeping while your mother sat beside him, holding his hand and reading a book with the other. She must have been reading to him because her lips were moving but you couldn’t hear anything.

Suddenly you heard Eon’s low voice right beside you, “Interesting…” He paused then dared to dip his own finger into the water. It quickly changed and you saw the view zooming out. You could see the city, then the state, then the country, then the entire planet. It finally stopped on a picture perfect view of earth in the daylight.

You didn’t understand, what exactly was this Well trying to show you? By that point you were almost certain Eon could either hear your thoughts, or he was just really good at reading facial expressions despite the lack of his own.

“It shows what the heart desires the most,” He explained, “It’s gifted, and the only Well of its kind. It doesn’t show you what your soul wants, nor your mind. The heart is an incredibly tricky manifestation of many emotions, some find it very hard to listen to their heart,” You watched as Eon turned his gave slightly to Alastor.

For the first time you could just make out all the features of Eon’s face. That’s when you took a closer look at this smokey spirit. It was like he was here and somewhere else at the same time. His body was nothing but shadows and fog spinning around constantly as if they were covering up what was underneath. Every once and a while you could see colors peak out from behind the smoke, you could see skin or piercings for half a millisecond. It made you wonder, who was he? Or more so, what was he?

All you could remember was the rushed words Vanderlinde told you not long ago, that Alastor harbored an incredibly powerful spirit from another realm that no one could comprehend. And now apparently his heart desired the earth.

“Who are you?” You asked, your question surprised him enough to float away some and put a little distance between the both of you, “Really,” you went on, “Who is Eon supposed to be?”

He gave you an odd look, then smiled, “Me? You’re asking the wrong person, sweetie,” He tried to brush your question off but you weren’t having any of it.

You shook your head then pointed a finger at him, “No, I want to know who you are before I dig any deeper into this. I know you’ve got something to do with him. If you’re a part of Alastor then I need to know who you are too.”

Eon was fairly surprised by your demands, but he didn’t deny you, “Okay, fair point,” He shrugged then then gave a quick nod of his head, “Alastor summoned me many years ago, when he was alive. He sold his soul to me in exchange for power in the afterlife. All I asked for in return was that he give me more souls, because I do so love eating them!”

“Then what exactly are you?” You lifted a brow at him while looking him over for good measures. He didn’t have any feet, his legs just ended with little wisps for tails when they got too close to the floor. His form was just a black cloud in the shape of a tall limber body. He had a little devil tail that flicked around like that of a cat’s, with his puffy ears to match and sharp toothy grin.

“I’m just a spirit without a body. My soul is attached to Alastor’s by the laws of our contract, but I can’t have his body, because he also doesn’t have one, he’s dead!” Eon smiled at you and shrugged as he started to float circles around you, “That’s pretty much it,” He said, “There isn’t all that much more to know about me,”

“I’m sure there is,” You said with your lips pressed thin, “I doubt you’ll tell me, though,” His laugh only made you roll your eyes, “What about him then? What does his heart want the most, or does he not have one at all?”

“Oh he does,” He nodded his head. Eon wandered back over to the Water Well and stood right beside it. You stood in your spot and watched as Eon snapped his ghostly fingers and you watched a manifestation come to life in his hand.

You inched closer and watched a machine put itself together out of the smoke that was Eon’s palm. It ticked away, humming a pulse and formed into what looked almost like a radio, “It’s very broken,” Eon said with a nod of his head, “There’s not much there anymore beside wires and bolts,” That’s when you put together what he was saying.

“That’s Alastor’s heart…” You walked up to the Water Well and watched as Eon put the radio heart in a dark purple bubble of safety. He let it float around the Water Well for a moment before it slowly drifted in the slow current of the whirlpool. It didn’t take long for you to see a third person view of yourself. When you looked behind your shoulder towards this hidden camera, you were met with a familiar face instead.

Buck, your orange tabby cat was sitting neatly in a chair with his tail resting on his paws. You took a second glance into the Well, then to Buck, then to Eon. As soon as he took Alastor’s heart out of the well and made it vanish, so did Buck. He flew away in a cloud of smoke in the wind, gone from your sight and to God only knows where. It didn’t take you much longer to realize that you were what Alastor’s heart wanted the most.

You weren’t sure how to handle that information. You looked at Eon while you began to run a hand through your hair, “Okay,” You let out a shaky breath, “Who is he?” You looked up at Eon with a wary gaze. He was right, there really wasn’t anything else to know about Eon anymore. Alastor was the one who wanted you.

And Eon was going to point you in the right direction, literally. He lifted a finger and jabbed it to the bookcase behind you. Though he was pointing to the top shelf where several large folders, maybe six or seven total, sat neatly collecting dust. You narrowed your gaze and read the hand written notes on their spines.

1926 (1),  1927 (3), 1929 (9), 1930 (11), 1931 (12), 1932 (14), 1933 (XXX)

Each folder had a year, then a number on it, besides the last one, which also happened to be the smallest of them all. When you looked over your shoulder, Eon was gone, though you knew he was watching from whatever corner he was hiding in.

[jjongasarus]

embers

yellow embers rode upon smoke clouds drifting to the stars, each burning flicker fizzling out before it could pass the canopy of trees lazily cloaking their destination. the smoke, however, filtered through the maze of dewy leaves and chipped bark until the moonlight greeted its sparse body. neither the embers nor the smoke could ever make it to the distant stars, and yet with every crackle of wood the failed journey of their predecessors were forgotten and new embers would ride the smoke to their inevitable demise.

her knees were pulled tightly to her chest, feet angling inwards and toes curling as the heat from the fire warmed them. the forest during this time of night was deathly quiet; only the snapping wood of their fire dared to penetrate the thick silence. even the crickets were unusually quiet, which would normally raise red flags but her body was too exhausted to stay vigilant. her loyalty was like a curse; she’d walked miles through the downpour of a summer storm, the humidity paling in comparison to the force of the rain, though both equally managing to leave her sticky and uncomfortable. though he kept walking, and so did she. under the ruthless blaze of the summer sun she flew through the forest, branches vibrating and leaves swaying in wake of her movement, and under the cool evening moon she’d skinned fish and through the misplaced strands of pink hair, watched for the movement of her enemies. he didn’t complain, so neither did she. the duration of their travels constantly tested her endurance, but her loyalty was like a curse, and wherever he went, she followed. that is what brought her here, exhaustedly watching the helpless plight of fire embers.

she wondered if she was similar. the physical proximity of her star wasn’t as distant, but its light was worlds away. if she was a fire ember, and he was her star, she’d fade into the nighttime breeze that caressed the tree leaves before she’d ever be able to embrace his light. the thought made her knees press a little tighter to her chest, her head bury a little deeper into her knees, and her eyes shift focus from the flames licking the night to the man sitting nearby; one leg extended outwards, the other elevated so his elbow could rest on his knee. his eyes were closed but he wasn’t sleeping, sleep never came to him so early in the night. if there wasn’t a fire, he might even blend in with the darkness of their surroundings, so easily fading from her sight, camouflaging into a background that even the moonlight couldn’t fully illuminate.

she knew that if she was a fire ember, he’d be her star. but she didn’t know what his star was, or if he even had one. if he was a fire ember, perhaps his dim light would separate from the rest, float out of the body of the smoke, and burn a path of its own, a path where the end wasn’t marked by the discouraging distance of an unreachable light, but marked whenever the ember’s light ceased to exist. her smile was pressed against her right knee, blocked from sight. he’d never been one to stay on the path commonly traveled, it was idiotic of her to ever think otherwise. despite this, she still wondered that in the uncommon possibility that he did have a star, what would it be.

“sasuke?” sakura’s chin rose, the beginning of his name having been muffled by her knees. she saw one of his eyes open and look in her direction. he had a habit of keeping his eye that posessed the rinnegan closed, so often times she’d only catch the gaze of one eye. if she caught the gaze of both, she knew something was amiss.

“what is it?” his voice suggested that he was on gaurd. perhaps he thought that she was calling to him because she sensed an enemy. his fingers twitched slightly, the line of his shoulders straightened, his lips tensed into a firm line, and the eyebrow that wasn’t shrouded by a blanket of thick hair grew taut with caution.

sakura shook her head first, the edges of her hair brushing by the soft angles of her jawline. “it’s not an enemy or anything. it’s just a silly question..” her words trailed off as her eyes did the same, returning to capture the motion of the ascending embers. his observant eye followed the direction of her dreamy gaze and settled on the same sight, little yellow sparks dancing through the fog of smoke until both disappeared in the thicket of leaves above them.

“what’s the question?” his form relaxed in the slightest of ways, his mouth resumed its usual subtle frown, its corners always dipping downwards ever so carefully, and his shoulders eased up a bit, but their line was still broad and ready at a moment’s notice.

sakura had often admired his readiness; during the old days when her hair could tickle her elbows and she wandered within the shadows of her teammates, sasuke’s preparedness to battle at any given second was one of his most handsome characteristics. these days, however, she found it more unsettling the way he wasn’t able to relax. she wanted to be a source of comfort to him, the warm body he could lean against after a strenuous day of labor, a safe space he could retreat to when the sun was too hot or the moon was too cold or even if everything in the world was just how it ought to be, but he still wanted to be within the presence of her scent. in short, she wanted to be his star.

“well..” she began, musing over how to articulate her question without sounding too odd. she pursed her lips slightly, her legs stretching out in-front of her so the soles of her feet could fully embrace the warm of the fire, her hands pressing palm-down on the ground while her head leaned back so she could peer at the stars through the gaps in the trees. “if you had something you wanted to reach, what would it be?”

“something i want to reach?” he reiterated. he was puzzled by the question, and once again his perceptive eye followed her line of sight up through the twists and turns of branches and leaves until he focused on the sprinkles of stars printed across the evening sky.

“mhm. kind of like, a desire. something you want to keep pushing towards even if you know that you might not make it.” sakura wanted to know what it was that could illuminate his darkest of nights, what could shine so bright that he’d fly to it even if his flame would fade in the process.

a few moments passed between them where nothing was said, only the crackling of fire broke the silence that had settled. “i don’t know. i thought it would be atoning for the sins i’ve committed during the war, but even then..”

sakura had been watching him since he began speaking. her eyelids lowered sympathetically, her expression softened tenderly as her head leaned a little to the right, and her heart ached with the desire to give him the world. a hue of orange reflected in the green of her eyes as she shifted closer to the fire, closer to him. the shadows of the twisting flames created patterns against her skin as she crawled on her hands and knees for a few paces until she was at arm’s length from him. she sat leaning on her hip, one hand on the ground balancing her, the other resting on her thigh so her fingers could play with the hem of her shorts as she thought.

“you still haven’t found it, right?” she looked him in the eye, an action that would normally have her heart in her throat and mind in the clouds. but in this moment, the both of them so far secluded from the world that even the crickets couldn’t find them, where their secret conversations could only be carried by a faint breeze, where both their forms were so gloriously decorated by the warmth of the fire before them, and the scattered dots of moonlight above them, where her green could pour into his sea of darkness, she wanted to remain frozen.

“no, not yet.” he sighed, his eye closing for less than a second but within those precious frames of time, he seemed vulnerable, and sakura wanted to dive right in, wanted to peel open his scars and understand his pain. but instead, she continued to watch him from a closeness that still seemed so far away. when his eye opened again he prompted her, “and you?”

“i want to reach you, sasuke.”

the flames had simmered down by now, in need of some stoking to keep them alive. the once passionate glow was now an insecure flicker that could only manage to brighten the space between their bodies. the embers were few and far between, but the ones that did manage to slip through the pieces of burnt wood were brighter than before and drifted upwards with the help of minimal smoke, carrying more than just a glance-worth of light, but light that may be able to actually navigate the maze of trees above.

“you don’t need to. i shouldn’t be a concern of yours.” he closed his eye but his brow furrowed as if he was concerned over his choice of words. his fingers curled into his palm, before tightening enough for the veins around his knuckles to raise against the skin. she could see the tension in his jaw as her eyes traveled along the sharp path of his jawline, and just as her gaze was traveling along the band of his thick eyelashes she looked away. his expression had told her enough, it always had, that she was foolish to ever think that she could be his light.

she wanted to apologize and return to her old spot several feet away from him. she wanted to end their conversation so that they could both get some rest and prepare for whatever lie ahead of them the next day, she didn’t want to deal with rejection. for years she’d chased after him, and for years he’d made her bleed from a wound that never seemed to heal properly. but her loyalty was like a curse, and she couldn’t turn away.

“you’re right…you shouldn’t be, and it’s foolish of me to think any differently.” her eyes lowered and stared at the stitch pattern on her shorts as his eye opened and fixed itself upon her. “but, i won’t let you go until you find it.”

she stood up from the ground then and walked the few paces to where she sat before before lowering herself back down to the ground. she dusted her hands off before stretching her arms up above her head, stretching her sore muscles. she wouldn’t let sasuke’s light fade no matter how far he strayed, even if his star wasn’t her, even if his star was lightyears away, she’d burn with a light so bright that it would keep him going. the fire now was barely burning above the charred wood and the embers had all been trapped between the pile of smoking wood. she laid herself down on the dirt, using her traveling pack to cushion her head.

it didn’t take her very long to drift off into sleep, she had been worn out from their travels that day. her eyes were closed and the strands of hair that had fallen onto her face floated with every breath she took, fluttering back down to her skin when her breathing softened. sasuke’s eye had watched the gradual digression of the fire, and through his periphery, watched her fall asleep.

“sakura..” he murmured despite her not being able to hear, “thank you.”

and as the fire receded into nothingness and their forms blended seamlessly into the background of the cool summer evening, the ember, burning a determined red, wove its way through the thicket of branches, gliding past the edges of the leaves, and emerged from the top of the canopy into the vast new world of the unfiltered sky.

and then, moments too soon, it vanished.

[mattyrambles]

k e l s e y

Clouded eyes - heavy, red. Dilated pupils - blown out to the point where there’s only a glimmer of blue, ebbing beneath inky depths. Smudged eye makeup, dark. Waves - loose across her face, sparse tendrils of electric blue, dark brown. Glints of silver - her nose, center of her lower lip. And her lips are gorgeous, she is gorgeous. A wide smile - teeth, laughs. Everything is silent, an underwater buzz. Cold - her fingers, spanning along my cheek. A certain electricity. Everything slow - movements lagging, unfocused blurred vision. Slow motion, underwater. Electricity - radiating off her, surging through her veins, seeping out of her fingertips, soaking into my skin. Jagged breaths. Alive. Penelope Clarke.

Fingers - curling around her wrist, a sharp jerk. Slow. Underwater. Her face turns, curls spiraling, and electric blue strands seem to linger in the air, floating. Intoxicating, blue. And my eyes follow - trailing over the fingers wrapped around her, white knuckles, flannel shirt, his face. Vexation.

“Penelope, what the fuck did you give her?”

Too loud, a break in the underwater haze. Sharp, ringing. And it loops in my head - soundtracking the image from barely ten minutes ago. Penelope, pushing something pink between my lips, welcoming with no hesitation. Her mouth, my ear. A shiver - cold skin, warm breaths.

“Light it up, baby.”

Echoing, overlapping with his words.

Unfocused, features bouncing - a fleeting worrisome glance, him. Hazel - darkening behind the rims of his glasses. Silence - dull buzz, resuming, relief. And I slump further against the wall, limbs fuzzy, watching him. His eyes flickering from me to her, eventually settling, her. He’s annoyed. An expression I know all too well. Memorized how his eyebrows furrow and lift sardonically, how his lips curl around accusations and unmeant insults. But he’s beautiful, still. Matthew - Matty - Healy.

A sudden shift - her mouth on his. A heated engagement. His hands pull her closer, hers trail up his arms, shoulders, tangling through his hair. Sparks following their path, effervescent. They fit together, almost perfectly. Refocusing - highly defined, how their mouths mould faultlessly, how his teeth tug at metal, her lower lip. A flawless collison,one that should prove detrimental, thunderstorms- entirely different forces, warmth merging with cold.

Penelope was cold, Matty burned.

Albeit - everything’s burning now. Too fast, too bright. Lights, bodies, drugs. Blurring, bouncing. And the room spins and whirls, and the buzzing rings louder. There’s lights, a lot of lights, too many. Draped around the room, wall to wall, tones of blues, and reds, and greens, and yellows. Christmas. Yet, now they hover in the air, a push and pull. Glowing, glinting, breathing.  Rhythmic, slow. 

And it’s almost enrapturing, it’s almost Penelope. 

Penelope is fascinated with light, lights. Shadows candles throw. Captivated by colours, from the blue spiraling through her hair, to the tones of purple when tongues mesh over vodka slushies - blue, red. It’s an almost hypnotic infatuation. Sunlight, moonlight. She documents it all - her garage, from the pink skies of sunrise, the glowing oranges of sunset, the silver liquid of moonlight, to the eerie luminescence of stars. Paint splattered - walls, canvases, scraps of newspaper. It’s safe, it’s alive. An illusion of false security. All perception of time faded there, between walls that all the lux in the world seemed to pass through. 

Now - her voice breaks through the static, a scoff, something about how George is going to kill himself. George. A name that rings equally loud, almost equally as intrusive as hers. Lights - more erratic, the glowing turning to sparking, too bright, too fast. Intensifying when she speaks, and the more they grow - the more my lungs cave in, and breaths become shallow, catching. Vision blurring - and lights burn along with my lungs, and I need to leave. But - it’s a futile endeavour, frozen limbs. Hypnotic. Penelope. 

It’s a sudden warmth the saves me. Or maybe it’s cold. Something between. Seeping through my top, a borrowed one, Penelope. Wetness - my skin. Although it’s the shrill sound the resembles a jumbled expression of apology that finally tears me away from the lights, from her. A familiar face - blurred around the edges, doe eyes, green. A vaguely nervous expression - flickering over his shoulder. Matty. Penelope. Mine flicker to the now half empty beer bottle, his hand. Vision jumping. Adam Hann. 

A hand - my shoulder, faint, fuzzy - asking if everything’s alright. A question I try to nod to in reply, answer. But tongue heavy - mouth dry, cotton wool. A sigh - colours bounce, jitter, and he’s muttering something about fresh air. But I don’t want to leave, don’t want to breathe. 

Gone - a shout of Matty’s name, piercing through the fog. A bubble of sudden commotion, and there’s a click, shift somewhere in the back of mind. A pang of disquiet.  

“Touch her again, and I’ll fucking kill you.” 

Matty.  Nocuous. Focusing - bodies, giggles and provocations. Sparks emitting. Brash - a familiar voice telling him to go on then. Not an uncommon occurrence. Ross MacDonald. 

Eyes flickering - Penelope, a scowl, fingers tugging at Matty’s jumper, curses filtering through the air. Adam - pulling away Ross. A thud, heart thrumming, and her fingers grasp his jaw, forcing him to look at her, lips back on his. 

Blurring, lights.  

Dimmed lights - Penelope’s kitchen, empty. Deserted minutes ago, bodies piling out the back door, garden, and I can only assume that’s a sign midnight is approaching. Things are better - the fuzziness wearing off, clouds dispersing. But my heart still thrums, blood rushing in my ears, limbs trembling. 

Black marble, kitchen island - smooth, cool against skin, my cheek. Fingers - idly tracing patterns across the surface, black clouding. Cold - winter air, backdoor ajar. Clamorous sounds, boisterous noises drifting - fizzles, crackles, fireworks. 

Content - watching, listening. The background is nice, safe. And I about trying to find Matty, or Penelope, both - for a minute, but the idea drifts, another firework, laughs. 

Time lapses - clock on the wall echoing, echoing off walls, vibrating through the floors, soothing. Comfortable, despite the too tight top, too short skirt, the stink of spilled beer. For once - a moment, it feels right, it feels like I should be here. 

A break - serenity, a laugh resembling my name, one I’d pick out anywhere. Penelope. A blur - fingers lacing through mine as she passes, her other hand linked with Matty’s. Hurried sounds of, “Kelsey, c’mon.” 

Stumbling - endeavouring to keep up, Penelope’s back garden. Alive, bouncing with sounds, vibrant voices. Bodies. Night air - spiraling colors, reflecting in sapphire. Penelope. And everything seems to glow and glitter, explosions of blues, and pinks, and reds. Spiraling kaleidoscopes, Penelope - a hint of awe, entranced, fingers tightening around mine. 

A rush - a countdown beginning, tongue still refusing to curl around words. Penelope, arm draping across my shoulders, fingers remaining entangled. Numbers - echoing, my ear. Breath fogging, hers, mine, chasing patterns. 

And then there’s an explosion of sounds, screeches, colours, and ‘Happy New Year’s’ - the haze of the high parting, and everything’s suddenly too loud. Sound resurfacing. 

Eyes flickering - bodies entangled. Matty, Penelope - half entangled. Lights, colours - illuminating skin, chasing patterns. Lost. 

Until it’s sudden, warmth - my lips, Penelope’s mouth. Quick, a barely there kiss. But - there’s electricity surging, and a lingering taste of night air, tequlia, kaleidoscopes, and Penelope.  Lips - trailing the same taste, synergy, my ear. “Happy Birthday, Kels.” - ensuing a rush of shivers, my spine. Merging with fire. 

Colours, electricity - dying down, mirroring the dying buzz through my veins. Losing a few bodies, louder music, buzzing of dull conversations. Liquid silver - the moon, full. The wall - cold stone, bare skin. A lot colder now, a chill in the air. Matty’s coat, fur - wrapped tight around my shoulders. His smell lingering. Content.

A familiar sound, one that speeds everything up again, sets a thrumming against ribs. It’s a laugh, a cackle. Gaze drifting up - and he sits down, his thigh near touching mine, pulling a girl down alongside him, and for a second I almost think it’s Penelope, but then remembering Penelope’s not blonde anymore. He likes blondes. And I’m not sure if that subconsciously fueled the decision let Penelope spiral tones of blonde through my own hair. Although it hasn’t succeeded with catching his attention yet. 

A beer in one hand, half finished joint in the other - a habitual prop. And when his head shifts to glance over,  a smirk curving his lips, deep brown eyes seeming lighter, moonlight reflecting. Smoke curling through the air. 

An unforeseen action - an arm, my shoulder, pulling me in for a hug. Tired limbs - giving in, my face squished against his chest, and he smells of weed, and beer and there’s a hint of Matty. A rumbling, through his chest, throat - a rasped voice, said through a smile. “Happy New Year, Kelly.”

Kelly. I suppress an eyeroll. My tongue still not grappling words, so I don’t bother correcting him for the millionth time by now. Of course he still hasn’t grasped that my name is Kelsey, not fucking Kelly. And of course he is all too blissfully ignorant that it’s not only New Year’s, but my birthday. 

George Daniel.