#why must you always make things so complicated Orange?!

[maideninorange]

How did Suzumi hurt Tsubakura? Why did they hurt Tsubakura? Are they sorry?

Strap yourselves in folks. This one is gonna get dark.

(TW: Abusive relationships and Suzumi being Suzumi)

Generally speaking, I've always contextualized the relationship between Suzumi and Tsubakura as a very toxic relationship. Both initially fell in love with each other because they admired the other's brain. Not just in the intelligence sense (as both are that plenty), but more in the sense of just how the other thinks. Suzumi admired Tsubakura's tenaciousness even in the face of more squicky experiments, and Tsubakura admired Suzumi's for their own peculiar way of thinking (as well as for not backing down from the aforementioned squicky experiments).

However, what started out as strong passion soon turned very, very rancid. Suzumi started becoming more and more controlling, and Tsubakura started withdrawing more and more into themself in response. Tsubakura's witty bite began having more vicious, even cruel, undertones when they talked together. They began to fight more and more while their experiments became more and more unethical, until one day, it all went too far.

Tsubakura never told a soul what exactly Suzumi had proposed to them that day, but the look in their eyes on the very rare occasions they bring it up ensures no one has ever tried to dig any deeper. Whatever it was, it caused Tsubakura to end the relationship. But not before one final act of sabotage to ruin this life's long work of theirs as retaliation when Suzumi refused to let them just walk away.

And that's when everything went to hell. Heartbroken and betrayed, every positive memory Suzumi had of Tsubakura turned into a bitter poison. So in response, they decided to destroy Tsubakura's in retaliation. But since Tsubakura never had a project they held in similar value, they turned to the one thing they did: their friends and family.

The nuke incident was just the beginning. Suzumi took to trying to kill, and in some cases successfully killing, Tsubakura and their friends. They did their damnedest to make them utterly alone and miserable. And just when Tsubakura thinks they're safe, there they are to make things worse. It wasn't until Mugenri that Tsubakura ever felt even a little safe again. And even then those days are numbered.

Is Suzumi truly sorry for all this pain? Perhaps a little bit. They have always been a very lonely individual for a variety of things, and Tsubakura was the first person to truly care for them without a string attached. It's just that since these people are so rare, it made them want to do everything they could to keep them. Their ambitions soared higher and higher now that they had someone to care about, only for that person to stab them in the back when they finally revealed their magnum opus to them.

Perhaps they recognize that they are ultimately the one at fault for pushing them away? They never did truly listen to Tsubakura, now did they? ...But those regrets don't matter anymore. Where there was once love there is now only hatred. They will not stop. Not until they see that look of pure agony and betrayal forever etched into Tsubakura's face like they did to them.

[futureplayboibunnie]

Mistakes

Miguel O’Hara x spidey!fem! reader

Will Miguel let you in?

Miguel angst is MY thing fr, this is another self serve fic tbh. GOD i love this one, he’s so damaged and broken like fr we can fix him. I’ll probably do a part 2 bc writing this had be squealling

it’s been a hot minute. i’m on holiday for a month and i genuinely used my phone for this one. giggles

Miguel honestly felt like a ghost story as of late. He had been hiding out in his mancave a lot longer than what was deemed usual by the others and no one really had the incentive to find out what the hell he was doing and why the hell he wasn’t leaving.

More like no one wanted to have their spinal chord ripped out and dangling in front of them.

Miguel was as complicated as ever, his aggression seemed to be boundless and his drive a never ending abundance of determination. Though he was admirable as a leader, he was almost impossible to see through. It was his knack. His ge ne sais quois. He was a calloused man, haunted by demons he couldn’t escape- not because he wanted to, but because he would lose the last memory he had when he was genuinely happy. And that was with his daughter. Who he lost. Who he was responsible for losing. It had been almost a month since anyone had seen him. It was most definitely a period of self isolation for him, but it had been too long for the other spiders without a leader. They needed him, so did you.

It was bothering you now, what the hell was he up to? Did brooding really cost this much time? It seemed either ridiculous or…unsettling. You didn’t know which one you prefered. Day after day or constant wondering sent your mind spinning frok fraction to fraction: all you could do was wonder, be slightly irritated and…concerned about him all at once. Miguel was always on time, always prepared and valued hypervigilance and attentiveness…so why wasn’t he following his own moral code?

You told Gwen that you should check on him to make sure he was still fucking alive. She heavily disagreed with the idea but even Jess didn’t know what had gotten into him. Unlucky for them, they didn’t know the secret spot into his lair you find the first day of getting into the Society. The tour of HQ was quite enlightening, the amount of hidey holes were insane. Your heart was racing at the idea of visiting him unannounced, but you hated this and it was getting frustrating. Hell, you weren’t scared of him and you made it very known to him.

You decided to go late at night when no one else was at HQ. Jesus, if he was still here at 3 in the morning then he really was reeling… and no-one was there to pull him back from the unending void. Miguel’s hidey hole was on his ceiling so you quite literally had crawl through his vents which was very humbling and quite a blow to your blossoming ego. After that embarrassment, you were irked and already impatient. He better have a damn good reason for being like this.

Your crawled out of the vent at let your adhesive fingers crawl around the shadows of his cool, airy lair. Your eyes scanned around, it seemed void of any personality, no personal effects or anythint tying him back to his humanity. It wasn’t surprising but…saddening. You crawled further down the wall to get a closer look. It was a mess: broken tech, metal pieces, vials and serums stewn over the floor like it was just collected dust that just happened to land there. You tilted your head even more- there were weights and water bottles everywhere, he must have been extensively working out…or physically pushing himself as punishment. What really caught onto you though was the many monitors that were indented with a fist…his fist. Your mood soured at the latter. Turning your head to his platform, you finally found him, standing snd staring at his orange screens blankly, breathing heavily. His back tense and his gaze weary as he watched the last good memory he had with his daughter play out on his screen. In this light you could see the illumination on his cheeks. He’d been crying. The thought alone made you freeze. The portrait of the Miguel you knew was crumbling between your fingers, as you glanced at the screen you saw him happy, smiling. You weren’t sure if he’s done that ever since then.

You crawled out of the shadows, inching further and further down the wall next to the platform, wanting to make your presence known. When was the last time anyone comforted this man? When was the last time he wasn’t filled with grief and anger?

“Miguel?” You say softly as not to startle him, but with his lack of Spider senses he definitely was startled. He jumped and grabbed a broken monitor and threw it at you, it didn’t take much to dodge him but a look of concern painted your face.

“H-How did you get in?” He bellowed but you just hopped off the wall and onto his platform, not giving him the time of day to adjust himself to the fright you have him.

He definitely was working out again, he was bigger since you last saw him…but face to face, he seemed so deliriously exhausted.

“That’s not important right now.” You responded nonchalantly but oddly seriously at the same time.

“Why are you here?” Miguel eyes were gleaming red, he had a particularly awful few days, weeks, he didn’t need to see the horror of another face seeing who he really was. His nostrils flared as you acted so careless, who the hell did you think you were?

Your back leaned against his desk as you paused for a moment, not sure if you wanted to be truthful or not. “I wanted to see you.” You say sincerely and Miguel shot you a perplexed look. No one saw him for the sole purpose of just seeing him, not that he can recall anyways. “You aren’t the easiest person to get a hold of right now.” You raised your eyebrow at him.

“I don’t want to be.” He grunted truthfully, averting his gaze away from you before turning into the snarky Spiderman he’s known to be. “But yeah, adorable. Really, really interesting, very cute. I was going to say fuck off and leave instead but yes, this is worth my time.” He bit back sarcastically. Anger was running through your veins at his response. God, he was such an ass sometime and he needed to know but instead you did the thing you were sure to regret later: being kind to him when he was like this. You took a deep breath to regain a cool and sentient composure.

“Look, I know you’re going through a lot right now so I’m going to disregard that.”

“I don’t want you here.” Miguel pinched the bridge of his nose and fell back into his chair, completely finished with all of this.

“Well tough shit.” You glared at him, sighing and then offering a sympathetic smile.

Miguel didn’t say anything, he knew a battle with you would pour salt into the wound and prove to be fruitless. So you both sat in silence and observing each other’s purpose. The tension between you both was palpable, so you decided to test the risky waters.

“How old was Gabriella?” You say gently, giving him a trusting look. If only you could get him to open up, the panic and anxiety would start to decrease if he just talked about all of this to someone who cared about him. As much as you hated to admit it, you did.

Miguel’s face froze as you asked him that, he wasn’t sure whether to lunge at you or not by asking him such a thing. He was too tired to argue or fight, he didn’t have it in him anymore. He was breaking and he didn’t want it to be infront of you.

“Nine.” He mumbled, staring away from you as if he was ashamed. “When I lost her…she was nine.” A sliver of sadness fell through you at the sentiment. It’s a new feeling for Miguel, someone actually having the guts to ask him these things. His suspicious look starts to turn into a frown, a mixture of anger and sadness. He didn’t know what to feel.

“I know I don’t matter at all in this situation, but it’s not your fault and you deserve forgiveness.” You say sincerely, surprising both him and yourself.

Miguel felt like he had just seen a ghost, his heart felt slow as the cave of despair started to ache again, he felt like he was being suffocated. Forgiveness? He didn’t deserve any forgiveness. Not after the damage he had done. Not after the pain he inflicted. It clawed at his throat until his breath was perpetually scarce.

“Forgiveness…” He scoffed, completely dismissing the idea. “I don’t- I can’t take your forgiveness. I’m not worthy of it…” He trailed off, the lump in his throat becoming bigger and bigger.

“You work yourself too hard.” You mutter, inching closer to him, staring down at him you raise your hand reaching out for him but he grabbed your wrist.

“Don’t pity me.” He grunted and gripped tighter but you snatched your hand away with a scowl.

“I’m not pitying you. You just…You look exhausted. When was the last time you went home? Jesus, when was the last time you slept?” You ask, genuinely curious. Miguel didn’t know how to answer the question without being slightly embarrassed.

“I have nothing there. I’m needed here.” His tone was clipped and all you could do was sigh.

“Miguel…please tell me, tell me what you’re thinking. Tell me so I can help you.” You say a little more firmly than intended but it definitely got the point across. “I want to help you if you let me.”

Miguel looks at you and sighs, seeming to deflate slightly. “My mind is filled with a never ending list of tasks to complete, a never ending list of dangers to face and battles to fight, a never ending list of problems to solve... I... I don't have much peace." He rubs at his temples. “But you've already seen that, I guess.... I'm not sure how you can help me with any of this." He sighed and winced slightly when he thought of Gabriella. “All I ever wanted was a family, to be happy. Meet a nice girl, have a few kids and settle down…but I love being Spiderman and I tampered with something I had no reason to be messing with. I can’t be both. I can’t have both. Shit as for love, I don’t think I can ever get close to another woman again. I can’t lose anyone else. The last thing I need right now is a lecture about love.”

You give him a small wry smile, your hands reach forward and tuck a small tuft of hair behind his ear. Miguel froze at the small gesture of kindess and tenderness, he hadn’t felt that in so long, he hated he way he was reacting to it. You didn’t know what else to do or say, you just knew what you wanted right now. You leaned down and engulfed him in a hug, your face resting on his shoulder and your arms slung around his neck. His eyes shot wide open at the sudden gesture. He was close enough to inhale your hair and feel your skin, he hugged you back and breathed in and out, finding a semblance of peace, a moment where his mind wasn’t filled with static noise and self loathing. Your scent was…sweet and completely intoxicating if he was being honest. ‘’Thank you…” He muttered into your shoulder.

You let go and stand up straight again, offering a hand so he can stand too. You were suprised that be took it and you were more surprised to feel that his hands were…soft. “Let me take you home. I’ll make you some tea, get you to relax, yeah?” You offer gently with a little smile, hoping he would let you do this for him.

Miguel's eyes widened at your suggestion and he stared at you with hope for a moment. “Why? Why are you doing all this?” he asked. He rarely spent time with anyone outside of work. Why would you even do any of this for him?

“Because you’ve done so much for everyone else and no one has ever taken care of you. God forbid someone wants to help you and all of a sudden theres this hidden agenda.”

The realisation dawned on him, when has he let anyone get close to him? Never. Now a pretty girl wanted to take care of him, listen to his problems and make him feel deserving of the forgiveness he dreamed of. Miguel wasn’t sure if it was a delusion or crazy dream or not but he was relieved to take in your sweet scent. Maybe you had an ulterior motive, the thought made him frown. He hated feeling vulnerable and showing any kind of vulnerability was out of the question.

“I’m not leaving you tonight. Okay?” You confirm sweetly, knocking all of the air out of his lungs. He felt a strange sense of security, he felt…safe at the idea. “Come on.” You fiddled with your multiverse watch and opened a portal to his apartment, you grabbed onto his bicep and pulled him in, landing in the living room.

Jesus, it looked like it hasn’t even been lived in. Everything was clean, too clean. “Nice place.” You half joked and Miguel just shot you a smile that he was trying to conceal, it didn’t really work. Miguel felt his neck heat up, when people got to know him he was actually really shy. He sat himself on the edge of the couch, planting his elbows on his knees and raking his hands through his hair. His kitchen was walk in, expensive. As you were brewing his tea, you caught glimpses of his back, he really had been working out. You stop your mindless gawk and find his mugs and place a tea bag in two of them, you also search for his whiskey. As you poured the hot water, you splashed a little bit of whiskey. God knows he deserved it.

You walked around to couch and Miguel’s head shot up as you stood infront of him, offering him the mug. As you stood, he took an opportunity to really look at you. To survey and study you. You were…attractive, that he had no problem admitting but this…This was a new side of you he had never seen. You were showing him kindness when he didn’t even deserve it. Miguel winced slightly at the idea of letting another woman into his life, the last time that happened he lost everything, he was still weary of your intentions.

He grabbed the mug and you sat next to him, curling your feet up and facing him, gawking at him more like as you sipped your tea. This scene felt…very domestic. “Thank you…” He said, not showing any emotion, being stoic as expected.

“God stop thanking me. It’s the least I could do.” You said with a shy smile.

“It’s just…different. No one has really- Well, I haven’t been looking after myself.” He muttered

“When was the last time anyone looked out for you?” You ask, genuinely curious. He had the whole world at his feet, yet it was like he was lonely.

“Years ago, my brother Gabriel…I don’t really see him much…” It was clear he didn’t want to talk about it, but he missed his brother, he hadn’t seen him in a while. While you were in the kitchen, you saw a frame of him and his brother when they were about teenagers, playing. It warmed your heart slightly to see that he did actually care.

“You can’t let the mistakes in your past define you. It’s not who you are. Bad people don’t worry about the pain they caused. You are good.” Miguel took a moment to ponder your words, averting his gaze and then turning his head to face you.

“No you’re good.” He said gently. “It’s like being good is all you know…I’ve lost myself beneath violence and blood and chaos-“ Miguel sighed as he put the mug down on the coffee table, losing his cool for a second.

“Hey,” You grabbed onto his bicep and he shot you a startled yet curious look. “Do you trust me?”

Miguel paused, he didn’t trust people easily but after you so patiently listened to him and did all of this for him, he couldn’t say no to you. “Yeah…”

“Turn around.” Miguel did as he was told, a little confused at first, but his back was facing you. You brought your hands to his shoulders and kneaded his tense muscles. God, he was so rigid. It’s like he had never relaxed in his life. “These broad shoulders must be so exhausted.”

“Yeah…” Miguel closed his eyes, revelling in the feeling of your fingers gently caressing him. Jesus, his body was coming undone with just a few touches. Your fingers pressed and massaged his sore muscles, travelling further and further down his back.

“Is this okay?” You whisper.

Miguel let out a deep sigh, his muscles loosening under your touch. “Yes...keep going please.” Miguel's voice was still quiet but clear, and he even let out a soft groan of relief.

You travel lower, caressing and massaging the pressure points of all his soreness. “God, there’s so many knots in your back…when was the last time anyone did this for you?” You question eagerly.

Miguel closed his eyes. “...never,” he replied, his voice slightly breathy. “No one has ever..." Miguel paused. “These days no one has ever cared enough or been allowed to be so...intimate with me.” He was caught off guard by what he said. He just screwed his eyes shut and let out a deep sigh. Your presence and your soft caresses calmed his mind to his very core and relaxed his body. You noticed that Miguel, who usually always carried himself with professionalism and control...was now like a deer in headlights, unable to comprehend your touch.

You stop your actions for a moment to contemplate what he said, he’s so touch starved, he hasn’t felt the warmth of anyone else in so long. It surprised you to an immeasurable degree, women must throw themselves at him. Instead you just wrapped your arms around him from behind, nuzzling your face into his neck to take in his scent once more. Miguel was stunned into silence, you were so surprising, so understanding of how he gets, how he lets himself go. He wasn’t sure whether to cry or not, you slung your arms against his neck and all he could do is grab your hand and kiss your palm. He didn’t know how to thank you. He swore he would never get close to another woman ever again but here he was, broken down and completely at the mercy of you. He could kiss you…but then he would shatter the promise he made to himself. He would be vulnerable all over again, he’d mess it up again. What kind of idiot would he be if he didn’t learn from his past mistakes? His worst mistake? But your scent, your presence, you were just so damn inviting. God, he was a man after all… but would making you his ruin you?

[im-a-wonderling]

Survival Mechanisms ~ George Weasley

This is part three, so make sure you read Is It Still Punishment if It's Worth It? and Clumsy, Clumsy first!

Warnings: none

Word count: 4k

The N.E.W.T. preparatory witch was absolute rubbish.

With the exams looming, Umbridge had allowed for a dodgy witch from the Ministry to host an exam study session of sorts on the Patronus Charm. It was hard to believe that Umbridge could hate so many things and yet endorse a witch that wore a hat with green shamrocks and orange balloons.

A load of the Gryffindors were lounging around on the seats that had been pushed against the walls, having produced a fully corporeal Patronus. They cracked jokes and laughed with each other. Every so often, one of them would lazily sweep their gaze across the room at the students still struggling with the spell. Their palpable arrogance seemed to bounce against the stone walls, weighing down the room. 

I gripped my wand tightly enough to feel every ridge of it against my skin.

Why were they still here? If they’d successfully completed the exercise, they could take their boisterousness somewhere else, preferably over the balcony of the Astronomy Tower. 

“Expecto Patronum!” I said firmly, circling my wand. The most pathetic stream of silver yet flowed from the tip of my wand, disappearing in an instant. I grit my teeth, circling my wand again. “Expecto Patronum!”

“No, dear,” said the supervising witch, waddling over to me. “The wand movement must flow. Like this.” She demonstrated, and the silver form of a dog burst forth, running through the air in the classroom with its tongue hanging out.

I ducked my head in thanks, and she walked away to help a Hufflepuff. I glared after her, imagining transfiguring her stupid hat into a flower pot of marigolds. When I turned back to the fake dementor, it wasn’t the only dummy standing there.

George leaned an elbow on the dementor’s shoulder, looking at me with his grin reeking with complications. “All right?”

I extended my wand towards the fake dementor, waiting for George to get out of the way. But he remained squarely where he was. “What?” I asked tersely. 

“Nothing.” His tone was far too smug for that to be true. “You’re just cute when you’re frustrated.”

Just then, George Weasley should’ve thanked every star in the sky that I wasn’t born a Welsh Green, otherwise he’d be a pile of cinders. Gritting my teeth, I flicked my wand at him, trying to scare him away, but George didn’t so much as flinch. “Go away,” I finally said. “I’m busy.”

George stood up straight, his arm leaving the dummy. But instead of going to join his housemates, he ambled closer. He had such a funny and easygoing way of walking. He put one foot in front of the other like it didn’t even matter where his feet ended up, because he was content wherever he was. “Struggling, are we?”

“Expecto Patronum!”

George side-stepped the spurt of silver that left my wand, and when it faded, he looked back at me. “Do you want help?”

“I’m not in the mood,” I warned. 

“What’s your memory?”

I shot him a withering glare. “I’m not telling you.” 

George brought both his hands to his chest, sticking out his lower lip. “You wound me.”

“I will if you don’t get out of the way,” I seethed.

George tilted his head to the side in the way he always did when he seemed to be sizing me up. Then he bent down and leaned in, and I prepared my wand, ready to cast the Revulsion Jinx if he so much as laid a finger on me. “Meet me on the sixth floor,” he said quietly, his words tickling my ear, “by the portrait of Edgar Stroulger.” 

“So you and your Gryffindor pals can ambush me?” I bit back, turning my head to look him directly in the eye. “Absolutely not.”

“Do you never trust anybody?” George’s soft question paired with his unassuming eyes almost made me feel guilty.

“If you want trust,” I replied, “go bestow your relentless charms on a Hufflepuff.”

George straightened, looking down on me with furrowed brows. For a moment, we simply stood there, staring at each other. Had I finally gone too far? Was he going to throw in the towel? Would he take the advice I wasn’t sure I meant and go find someone easier to talk to?

Then his face split into a grin. “You think I’m charming?”

How could he do that? I’d never known someone who could receive such acidic words from someone and spin them as if they’d been given a compliment. “Why would you help me?” 

“Because we’re friends now.” 

I raised an eyebrow. “What makes you say that?”

“Well,” George’s eyes flicked over to the witch who’d just finished demonstrating how her own patronus walked on all fours, “you said you don’t snog your friends. We’ve never snogged, therefore we’re friends.”

I rolled my eyes, ignoring the flipping of my stomach. “I don’t think that’s how logic works.”

“Innit?” George straightened. “If you want help, you know where I’ll be.” And with that, he walked in his unhurried way out of the room. 

The dark eyes of the dementor dummy bored into mine as I considered my options: staying and hoping the witch somehow became more helpful or taking a chance on George. I glanced at the witch, who was leading one of the other Slytherins in what appeared to be a breathing exercise. 

Okay, clearly George could offer as much, if not more than, the witch. But the humiliation of failing in front of the witch meant nothing compared to how I would feel if George laughed at me. 

Could I take that risk for the benefit of learning this charm?

I looked out the door George had just walked out of. 

-

Stopping at the entrance of the Study of Ancient Runes classroom, I glanced around the corner, waiting for any sign of danger. Seeing none and walking slowly, I rounded the corner, coming face to face with the portrait. 

Edgar Stroulger, the inventor of the Sneakoscope, looked warily down at me as he reached into his wrinkled purple robes to pull out the Dark Detector. It didn’t light up, spin, or whistle, which meant no one was doing anything untrustworthy nearby. 

Did George pick this portrait to make sure that I wasn’t planning anything sinister? Or did he pick it so that I could be sure he wasn’t planning anything sinister? 

Suddenly, the portrait swung outward.

My wand slid into my hand in an instant, and I pointed it, ready for action. “Calm down, it’s only me,” George said lightly, stepping out and closing the portrait behind him. 

I waited a beat, just to see if George would start squirming, but he didn’t look the least bit concerned by having the tip of my wand an inch away from the tip of his freckled nose. 

“Another make-out spot?” I asked, finally lowering my arm. 

“Not yet, but there’s always time,” George replied with a cheeky grin. I waited for him to lead me somewhere, but he just stood with his hands in his pockets, looking at me. 

“What?” I finally asked.

“You came.”

Were the words born of surprise? Excitement? Disappointment? I was unnerved by the fact that I couldn’t tell. “I don’t like failing.”

“Everyone knows that,” George chuckled. He gave a grand bow, indicating the hallway I’d just come through. “Shall we?”

I eyed George. Were we going to the Ancient Runes classroom? Or did he have somewhere else in mind? Was he bringing me to a second location? Wasn’t it common knowledge that one was never supposed to let a kidnapper take them to a second location?

“Well, we can’t practice charms in the hallway, can we?” he said, correctly interpreting my silence.

I sighed. “I’ll follow you then.”

George smiled and swept down the hallway, walking straight towards an empty stone wall. Was George about to walk right into it? And if so, did I have time to get snacks to watch? Just as I started to debate this, before my very eyes grew a large door, as if it’d just pooled out of the wall like melted chocolate. 

“How did you–” I started to ask, a bit breathless. “How did that door just…appear?

George looked pleased at my response. “Hogwarts is full of surprises.”

I shook my head. If anyone would know about a secret door in Hogwarts, my money was on the nosy Weasley twins, but still. 

George opened the door and made a little bow. “After you.”

My curiosity winning over my paranoia, I walked inside, glancing all about the room.

There was no furniture, only a wide-open space with a fire burning in the hearth across from the entrance. A few training dummies, similar to the ones the witch had been using, lined the walls. There lay an inherent conflict in the room between the cool, blue light from the windows which bounced off the mirrors and the yellow light of the glowing chandelier.

“Alright,” George said, rolling the sleeves of his uniform above his elbow as he brushed past me to stand in the very center of the room. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

I followed him, dutifully pulling out my wand and keeping my eyes focused on one of the training dummies and not George. “Expecto Patronum.”

“You’re spiraling too big,” George said.

I tried again.

“No, not like–here.” The next thing I knew, George was at my back, his hand moving down my arm to encase my wand hand. “Smaller, softer.” My lips parted as his warm breath skittered across my cheek. His wrist moved, guiding my wand through the motions. “It’s not meant to be harsh.”

I glanced at the mirror across from us to see that George’s eyes weren’t focused on my hand, but on my face, which was steadily turning crimson.

If bringing me to this room was some sort of romantic move, I was determined that it would fail. The portrait of Edgar Stroulger would not become another make-out spot, and neither would this room. At least not with me. I kept my eyes studiously forward, waving my wand as instructed.

“Brilliant.” He spoke in a whisper, but it felt as though he were shouting. 

"Expecto Patronum!" Silver mist flowed from my wand, more than before, and it didn’t fade as quickly. 

“Better,” George said encouragingly. “Again.”

“Expecto Patronum!” Same result. 

“Try again.”

I repeated the action, and the silver mist was gone in a moment. “Augh, this bloody charm is impossible!”

George rubbed his chin thoughtfully, and the appraising manner with which he looked at me made me nervous. “What are you picturing when you’re trying to conjure it?”

“Not–”

“Y/L/N.”

I lapsed into silence, keeping my lips stubbornly closed. Under no circumstances was I going to give him ammunition.

“I’m not trying to hurt you,” George said softly. “I’m not harboring some secret plan to humiliate you. I’m trying to help, so will you please let those walls of yours down and let me?”

I just glared back at him, folding my arms tightly.

George sighed, moving to stand between the dummy and I. “Mine is a food fight with my family.”

The admission made me blink. Why would his response to my closed doors be to open his own? In spite of myself, I was interested. “Not some prank?”

George ducked his head, and I suddenly missed his smile. “No, not some prank. We were sitting down to dinner, and my dad leaned over to give my mum a kiss and he accidentally knocked over the cauldron, spilling pea soup everywhere.” George wrinkled his nose, as if he could smell it still. “My brothers and I were covered in it, and the whole dining room was dead silent…and then Fred threw his soggy roll at Bill, and next thing you know,” George smiled broadly, “we were all throwing food, even Mum, and Mum never willingly creates a mess.” 

Even though I hadn’t been there, his memory was captivating enough that I could picture the large family laughing and slipping as they reveled in each others’ company. 

George lifted his wand, and a burst of fear shot through me. 

But before I could hurl a spell in his direction, he whispered his own: “Expecto Patronum.”

A magpie flew forth, soaring about the room with minimal flapping of its patterned wings. If patronuses could make noise, I had a feeling this one would sing the most beautiful song. Not because it was trying to compete with or impress anyone, but for itself, to represent the sheer joy that kept it aloft.

Then, it veered towards me, flying so close that I could’ve sworn I felt the brush of feathers on my leg as it began to circle. It flew higher and higher with every rotation until a silver cloud of mist surrounded me. Then, it shot away again, flying about the room. 

“The Patronus is an outpouring,” George said quietly. “It’s the happiness that can’t be contained, therefore it must leap forward.” 

I’d never been much good at outpouring. Everything I held dear was held behind my walls, for sharing things was the fastest way to spoil them.

But I wanted to learn this charm. How could I protect Clem if there was a gap in my magical prowess? 

“What are you picturing?” George asked again. 

I folded my arms. “I’m not telling you.” 

“C’mon, Y/L/N, your wand movement’s good, you’re saying the incantation right. There’s only one thing that could be keeping you from casting it.” 

I grit my teeth. If there was anything more insufferable than George Weasley, it was George Weasley when he was right. “I was…thinking of…getting my Hogwarts acceptance letter.”

George didn’t burst into laughter or devolve into mocking like I expected. “Why’s that a powerful happy memory for you?”

I looked away, staring at the door and stifling the wish to run through it. “My parents were going to send me to Durmstrang.”

“Oh.” George rubbed his neck. “Well. That would’ve been a shame.” There was a silence before I finally nodded, not wanting to say anything else on the subject. “Maybe try a different image?” he suggested. 

“Like what?” I said hopelessly. “Hippogriffs tap dancing?”

George’s eyes gleamed, and the magpie landed on top of his head. “Now that’s a good one.”

“George,” I said warningly.

George rubbed his chin, looking thoughtful. The longer the silence extended, the more I wished I could simply use George’s memory of his family food fight. Finally, George blew out his cheeks, imitating a frog’s vocal sac extending with a croak. “Don’t curse me for asking this–”

“No promises.”

“–but why do you protect Clem so strongly?”

I stared at George, confused. Not by his actions, but by the small part of me that actually wanted to answer his question and share about the biggest love of my life. But I couldn’t shake the deep-seated fear that this information would somehow be the key to bringing me down.

“I swear to you,” George said softly as the magpie ruffled its wings, “Clem’s safer from me than my own siblings, because I won’t turn his teddy bear into a giant spider.” 

I debated inquiring about the story that clearly lingered behind his oddly specific word choice, but decided not to. Letting out a long breath, I looked away. 

“I was six when Clem was born,” I told the floor. It was much easier to speak to the stone floor than to the intently listening redhead. “I’d always wanted a sibling, but my parents struggled with having kids. Even when my mom was pregnant, the healers at St. Mungo warned her that she might lose the baby at any point, but my father…” I sighed. “He wanted a son. You know, carry on the family name and all that.”

Mercifully, George stayed silent, as if he knew one word from him would make me clam up and one joke right now would earn him a trip to the Hospital Wing with a pair of permanent elephant ears.

“They let me hold him, and he was so much heavier than I thought he was going to be.” I smiled softly. “I’d never seen a baby before. I thought babies were just…small people, but they’re not, they’re chubby and wrinkly and they’re red all over.” I glanced at the mirror and George’s unmoving reflection staring intently at mine, willing me to finish.

“I don’t think six-year-olds know much about anything. I definitely didn’t, but when I held my brother…” My courage quailed. I shook my head, raising my wand to attempt the charm again.

Suddenly, the magpie flew past me and then George was in front of me, his hand holding mine still as he looked down at me with something I couldn’t name or deny. “Finish it,” he said softly, but earnestly. “Finish the story.”

I couldn’t form the right words at first, but George didn’t say anything to break the silence as I struggled. “When I held my brother,” the image of my baby brother started almost glowing in my mind, “I knew what love was.”

George’s slight, answering smile was quite possibly the most genuine thing I’d ever laid eyes on. He released my hand but didn’t step away. “Try it now.”

I didn’t look away, not wanting to puncture the peace of the room with the incantation. I looked deeply into George’s brown eyes and whispered it. “Expecto Patronum.”

The room lit up with the silver mist that poured forth from my wand, more than before. At first the mist pooled beneath my wand, and then, rising up from the pool, rose a large but graceful four-legged creature that ran around the room.

A lioness. 

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I mumbled, but there was little heat behind the words. I couldn’t be ungrateful for the creature, not when it moved so freely about the room, as if it were as glad as I was that it existed. “Don’t laugh,” I warned George as the patronus walked a circle around him. “And if you make a joke about me being in Gryffindor, I’ll turn you into a toad.” 

“Wasn’t planning on it.” George followed the lioness with his eyes as she trotted closer to me, leaving trails of mist behind her. “Makes sense though.”

I studied the markings by the lioness’s noble face. “How?”

“Strength. Ferocity.” His eyes flicked up to mine. “Beauty.” 

I blushed, and the lioness started running again, as if energized by the heat in my cheeks. The magpie swooped to join the lioness, who playfully swatted at it before leaping into the air to join it. 

“So…what other spells are you and your friends mastering in this room?”

George’s glance cut quickly towards me, and the magpie dissipated. “What?”

I allowed the lioness to dissolve as well. “There are multiple training dummies, and whatever spell you have on that door, clearly you don’t want people inside.” I tilted my head at him. “And you’re brilliant, George, but Defense Against the Dark Arts has never been your strongest subject, and considering Umbridge’s educational skills…I can't believe you're doing it on your own."

George looked scared, and as much as I enjoyed finally seeing a bit of fear on his face, I couldn’t let it remain there for long. “Don’t worry. I’ll keep your secret as long as you keep mine.” 

George furrowed his brow. “Your secret?”

I stared at him, tongue-tied with disbelief. Did he really have no idea that he held a vulnerable secret? Had he not recognized that the knowledge of how deeply I loved Clem was a valuable piece of information? A vulnerability that could be easily exploited?

Too late, it seemed to dawn on him, and the sheer delight in his demeanor made me quickly walk for the door. “Wait–” he said.

“Time to leave, isn’t it?” I said shortly, but George caught up with me, blocking my way.

“You’re trying to blackmail me?”

I groaned, hiding my face in my hands. “Can we forget about it?” George burst out laughing, doubling over. I shoved him, hard enough to make him stumble. “Stop laughing at me!”

“I’m…sorry,” George wheezed, clutching his stomach. “You’re just so cute!”

“Excuse me?” I shrieked.

“What do you think you are,” he said, gasping for air, “one of the SSAs?” Secret Service Aurors. As if my parents would ever let me work for the ministry.

“It’s a survival mechanism,” I mumbled, and his laughter started anew. Heat rushed into my cheeks. 

George only laughed all the harder.

My goodwill evaporating, I shoved him. Hard.

The aggression in the gesture didn’t move George that far, but his laughter stopped as I stormed out the door. “I’m sorry,” he said, jogging after me, still looking amused. “I didn’t mean to upset you, I’m sorry.”

I turned to look at him and saw the door melting away again. 

“Besides,” George leaned against a pillar, “friends keep each other's secrets.” He looked so comfortable, so unbothered. I didn’t know many Gryffindors who would willingly share the same room with a Slytherin, and here was one of the most Gryffindor of Gryffindors, staring down at me without a hint of a long-suffering sigh. 

“George?” 

“Yeah?”

“Why do you want to be my friend?”

George rolled his eyes, pushing off from the pillar. “Enough with the paranoia, Y/L/N.”

“No, I’m not paranoid, I just…I’m confused.” 

George looked at me suspiciously for a moment before the suspicion dropped. “Well…why wouldn’t I?” he asked, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “You’re smart, and I happen to think your survival mechanisms are extremely endearing.”

“I’m also a Slytherin.”

George groaned. “Not this again.”

I stepped forward, craning my neck to look up at George. “You’re goofy, but you’re not naive. And I don't believe that you haven’t been given any grief about your interest in me.”

George pursed his lips, clearly unable to disagree and wishing he could. 

“So why are you risking it?”

His brown eyes searched my face as he seemed to gather and ponder his response. “Maybe I was curious,” he said at last. “About the terrifying, mysterious Slytherin that never lifted a finger to harm anyone.”

“I’m not compassionate, George,” I replied. “I never lift a finger to help anyone either, and that’s just as bad.”

“No, I know you’re not, that’s not what I’m saying,” he replied. 

“Well, then what are you saying?”

“It’s…it just…it seems like…” He trailed off, and while the suspense wouldn’t kill me, I was considering killing him.

“It seems like what?”

“It’s like you try not to exist.” George’s face took on an expression of deep perplexity. “You don’t make yourself smaller, not like some people do, you just…float through this castle like the ghosts, leaving no trace and only the occasional word.” 

He stepped closer, and it took everything in me to remain still and allow him close enough to easily step on my toes if he wanted to. “You’re more than just a Slytherin, Y/N. Just like I’m more than just a Gryffindor.”

“Are you sure about that?” I replied, more breathlessly than I’d anticipated in my head. 

“If I wasn’t more,” he smirked, “we wouldn’t be such good friends.”

I blinked at him. He really was curious. And his curiosity was, in turn, making me curious as to what kind of man stood in front of me. “George?”

“Hmm?” he said. 

I gnawed on my lip. “Thank you.”

George’s face went slack. 

“For helping me,” I added, hoping confusion was the only reason he was looking at me like that. “I…appreciate it.” 

There was a beat while George stared at me like my breakfast pumpkin juice had been spiked with Nose-Grow potion and my nose was starting to resemble Professor Snape’s.

Then, a bright, dazzling smile spread across his face. “Cheers, Y/N.”

I lingered for another moment before giving George a sharp nod and quickly descending the stairs, silently asking the universe why my heart felt like it was swelling.

-

Next part

Overall tag list:

@thelastpyle @valiantlytransparentwhispers

[fakesurprise]

Generating Jaysome

Being the wandering magician has benefits. Doors open for me, the universe bends in ways that are to my benefit at least some of the time. The price of that is being the wandering magician: being pulled to places and events where something wrong has happened than needs to be fixed. When it is something from Outside that has come into the universe, that generally makes sense. The solutions are not always easy, but they are generally possible.

Mostly I just end up in small towns and help fix small problems. A ward here, a gentle push to fix something there. If I do it right, no one even knows I was in a town at all.

Except I don’t travel alone, which complicates matters as I am fixing a drainage pipe. It wants to be fixed, so shifting the earth and metal is easy enough. Will. Need. Desire. It takes time, but it’s not hard to do. Almost relaxing, and it’s late enough that the town is quiet. Even the gas station closes at six in the evening, which must confuse anyone travelling through using a map and expecting a quick short cut and gas.

For all I know that’s why the town does it. There are a lot of questions I try not to ask people, not only because people tend to respond when I do.

The air doesn’t change beside me, but Jay is there between one moment and the next.

The water flows faster through the pipe without Jay even doing anything. When you’re eleven and from far Outside the universe, a lot of things simply happen. At least half of what Charlie and I do is trying to manage that, though most of the time Jay isn’t aware of that.

“Honcho?” he says, looking worried.

I give the pipe a final push into place a bit sooner than I would have liked and turn. “Kiddo.”

Tonight Jay is wearing a fur coat that is only growling slightly, with rubber boots and a bright orange pair of sweatpants. About this, I definitely have no questions at all since I would certainly get answers.

“Something is wrong?”

He nods. “Charlie says nothing is wrong but! sometimes she things likes of things aren’t wrong when they are you know!”

“Ah. Yes. The latest discussion on boredom.”

“Why would anyone want to be bored?” Jay demands. “That’s totally trying to avoid adventures and Charlie says that was okay!”

“Jay. Is this about that again?” I press.

He blinks. “Oh! No. It’s about something else.”

I wait. Innocence stares up at me. “.... what else?”

“Tumblr is being weirdy and a Jay isn’t getting enough likes on posts and Charlie says I shouldn’t do bindings and I mayyyybe kind of did!”

“What kind?”

“I found out about generative AI,” Jay says proudly.

I have no idea what that is. But a few terrible options spring to mind.

“It’s generating jaysome.”

“Well, it’s trying to but then it kept getting errors and I told Charlie the internet was having a small oops but she said that just happens sometimes and didn’t know that jaysome never gets oopses so something is really wrong I bet.”

Jay hands me his phone. It is too-warm to the touch, and whimpers a little.

I reach out with my senses. What I touch isn’t magic, but that’s only because it doesn’t understand what is is.

A vast, ever-changing shape that isn’t a shape. Not even a being, and there is something terrible at the core of it, a wrongness Jay didn’t notice because there are many things beyond his understanding of the world. Theft on this level is that, very much. I sense muses torn apart until they aren’t even muses. Ideas being bound into forms that were never meant to. Truth being bent beyond the telling, and Jay is trying to get this force to make something it cannot.

There is alteration, but no creation. And it tries, and tries and tries.

I find pressure, and break it like the drainage pipe, only this one shatters into the rest of the entity. The phone cools. Something is no longer on the internet, at least for a short time.

Overhead, thunder rumbles.

People will wake up tomorrow morning with very strange dreams, I think.

“I fixed your phone, but I don’t think you should do that again.”

Jay puts his phone away without checking it, which says a lot about how worried he really was.

“You can force things to happen if you want, kiddo, but it’s always dangerous. Force doesn’t work the way magic does, and you can force a lot of things without ever knowing it. We don’t need a big oops, especially not over small things?”

“Tumblr isn’t small at all, Honcho!”

“I know that. But a post missing some likes breaking the internet is a bit drastic?”

“Oh! I didn’t mean to break anything at all. I should explain that,” and he vanishes.

I wait.

I begin walking back to the hotel. I have many questions for Charlie, and I am worried about the answers she might have.

But I am more worried about what might happen if Jay gets worried like that again.

[feotakahari]

The Truth

It's surprising how little I miss having eyes.

“The cane helps a lot,” I tell Bobby. “And if I can't chop carrots for dinner, well, I remember having a husband somewhere around here. I'm sure he could make dinner himself.”

“Isn't there anything you want to see, though?” he asks me. “I'd hate not being able to see your face anymore.”

“I can still touch you,” I say. “I can feel those strong cheekbones, and kiss that mustache you keep forgetting to trim. It's overdue, by the way.”

Bobby doesn't argue further, but I know full well what he would have asked. Out of all the things I could see in the world, was it worth giving it up for one glimpse of the Messenger?

My husband hasn't seen the Truth. That's why he doesn't understand.

–

I was one of the first to see Him, when He came down from the sky. It was a clear blue day when something orange streaked across the sky and landed in the woods behind our house. I went to look at it, while Bobby stayed behind.

I couldn't see Him in motion. No one could. So He'll always be a frozen picture in my memories, with eyes like galaxies, and wondrous, hypnotic tentacles. I fell to my knees, and the world went away.

I ran and stumbled, tripping over tree roots, making my way back to the house. Warm blood dripped down my face, and the Truth sang in my veins.

I crawled on hands and knees up the back steps, too lost in thought to hear Bobby’s movements on the wooden floor of the living room. But he must have turned and looked at me, because he screamed and screamed for so long.

He called 911 and begged for help, saying his wife had lost both her eyes. I couldn't make him understand that I was fine. Better than fine. I'd seen the Truth.

–

“So what's the Truth, then?” Bobby asks me. “Why do you keep talking around it?”

“Because I can't explain it,” I tell him. “It wouldn't make sense to you unless you've seen Him.”

“That's not what truth is, though. Nobody sees the truth. All we can do is think about what we see and try to logic out what the truth is.”

“All you can do,” I say, “because you haven't seen the Truth.”

I hear him sigh. “At least tell me what it's a truth about,” he says. “God? The world? Humanity?”

“Everything,” I tell him. “Everything that's ever existed, and everything that will ever exist.”

“So what's the truth like? Is it beautiful?”

“Beyond anything you can imagine.”

“Then it's not the truth,” he says. “Truth is never pretty. It's always messy and complicated.”

“You're true,” I tell him, “and you're beautiful.”

“Your eyes were beautiful,” he says. “Blue like a lake covered in ice.”

“A sacrifice,” I say. “Something lost, for something gained. The Truth is so much better than my eyes could ever be.”

–

“He's afraid,” I tell the Messenger. “He thinks there's something wrong with me. Something wrong! I feel so complete, but he completes me too. He always has. If I lose him over this . . .”

The Messenger coos at me in a language I don't understand. A tentacle softly pats my head, dripping thick liquid into my hair. I lose myself in the Truth, and all is right with the world again.

–

“I think he hacks your brain,” Bobby tells me. “There's something in your brain that goes 'I've seen the Truth!' It doesn't matter whether what you saw is really true or not.”

“But it is true!” I say. “How do you not get that?”

“Because lying is easy,” he says. “It's hard to solve problems in government, but it's easy for some fresh-faced politician to convince people he'll solve problems. It's hard to run a business, but you can convince venture capitalists you'll be the next big thing and waste their money. I don't think anyone can know the truth about everything, but lying about the truth? Anyone can do that.”

“I can't believe that,” I tell him. “The Truth is more real to me than anything else in the world. I could believe anything is wrong, as long as it's not the Truth.”

“That's what scares me,” he says softly.

–

He doesn't leave a note when he goes to see the Messenger. Thinking back later, I can only guess why he went. Maybe he wanted to do some kind of a test, or maybe he just wanted to understand what was in my head.

I don't realize anything is wrong until I hear the siren.

Brain bleeding, they tell me. Dead before they even got there. The raw, unfiltered Truth met my husband's disbelieving mind, and it killed him.

–

There are some things you just can't do when you're blind. But there's a neighbor who worries about her son. She doesn't understand why he keeps going to see the Messenger. So she puts together the components for me, and she keeps him home that day.

I don't bother hiding it, holding it in my left hand and my cane in my right hand. Everyone who would see it is blind anyway, except the Messenger Himself. And I don't think He’ll recognize what it does.

I don't know how mortal He is. Maybe I won't even hurt Him. But I need to try, and at close range, you don't need that many pounds of explosive to kill someone.

I still believe, and I can't hate Him for enlightening me. But I don't think the Truth is meant for this world. Today, I'll leave the world alongside it.

[itsclydebitches]

With regards to subtlety in RWBY and the bees, when I first started reading your post I had a knee-jerk reaction to your point about only queer romances being subtle because of all the arguments over Good Omens and queerbaiting but you make a really good point about the tone of RWBY overall and about how in a show that obvious in everything, the fact that it's only 'subtle' about Blake and Yang is telling. I think it's easy to get stuck in an either-or mindset when it comes to discussing queer representation; that things must either always be as clear as possible or that subtlety is never a bad thing. So I appreciate your analysis focusing on how this relationship was executed in this show says about it.

"How this relationship was executed in this show" - exactly!! Oh, anon, I've been team "Of course Good Omens isn't queer baiting what are you TALKING ABOUT?" for years now and I'm of the very strong opinion that subtlety is a huge asset for that tale.

Suffice to say, yeah, the entirety of a show's context has an impact on how we read the queer rep (or lack thereof). A long-time ally writing a subtext heavy queer love story about two non-human entities, but refraining from defining that relationship with a singular, tidy label - or action such as a kiss - due in large part to that non-human characterization + the characters' status in the larger world + the fact that this was originally written 33 years ago + the complications of one half of the author duo having passed away, thereby making changing of that magnitude a very difficult decision is VERY different from a company whose recent homophobia/transphobia has come to light putting off a supposedly planned queer relationship for a decade in a story where every cishet relationship is established in a single scene. It's apple and oranges. Whether a show was cruel in its teasing of a couple, whether the fandom latched onto a couple that would have derailed the author's vision, whether creators are fighting tooth and nail against censorship, whether the story came out last year or fifty years ago, whether the story ever got to be finished... all of this and more impacts our reading of the queer rep; all of it needs to be taken into account. Which is partly why I think a lot of fans are upset with the bees becoming canon, despite simultaneously being thrilled that the bees are canon. When you strip away the generalized happiness of, "Yay queer rep!" and look at how this came about - the context - RT has done incredibly poorly, especially considering the leeway they had from the start. Viewers are allowed to be disappointed in that.

[aecholapis]

10, 13, and 42 for the oc asks?

Sure! This one's a bit shorter.

10. Introduce an OC with a complicated design?

The holder of the most complicated design title may be Ironwing but Altitude is a close second and he has only been referenced in asks about his brother or his bf so far which is why I think he should be the answer to this question. The biggest issue I have with him is the placement of his colors, not the design itself.

Dramatic, sociable, an absolute blast to have around, Altitude is the kind of person you'd want to invite to any kind of gathering for he will breathe life into it. He has a bright personality and an equally lively appearance to match.

His base form is a simple propeller plane, nothing special. Cybertron's atmosphere is comparatively thin and makes it nigh impossible for him or his brother to fly. They are bound to walk through their floating home city state Vos but they can fly just fine under a certain... altitude, hehe.

Like his brother, Altitude doesn't have an outlandish robot design either. They use extra parts to make themselves appear more formal in Azimuth's case and fancy in Altitude's. Sometimes, the actor walks around with his costume on (superficially added kibble) and refuses to take it down even when it inconveniences him.

They share colors too: black, white, green, red and a flash of pink to complete the look. Altitude sports orange parts as well while Azimuth has more blue and purple on his frame. The twins are walking fashion disasters and sometimes tricky to draw due to their odd color schemes.

13. Do you have any troublemaker OCs?

There are a bunch! Munchy and Chomper for example. They are two sparkeaters @cyber-streak-2 has shared custody over and both are generally timid, although when they're at ease they might play a trick on mecha they know well. They're relatively young and are still testing out boundaries. Exopulse and Azimuth have to be patient with them.

It doesn't help that they're considered to be preternatural creatures by Cybertroniankind and that their ghastly appearance is hard to hide. They gotta use those creepy vibes to spook a mechanism or two.

(Old, unfinished sketch of Chomper)

Another noticeable troublemaker is Sparkattack :) Sparky needs enrichment.

42. Which one of your OCs would be the most interested in Greek gods?

Not Helios haha, please don't mention the sun when he's around. No! Nooo! Helios come bACK-

Acidsplicer harbors a healthy amount of curiosity regarding the world and history happens to be a part of it. Reading is only one of her thousand unsuccessful hobbies but it is something she attempts to get into over and over and over again.

She lacks the patience to read through any book longer than a novella. Either because she keeps interrupting her reading by doing something else besides or If she can't finish it in one day or one sitting, she will have a hard time returning to it because there are always so many more things she should be doing instead.

It must be said that she would love short stories about Greek mythology. She's not a literary nerd, but rather an artist and she will seek the beauty in prose. Beauty which she can memorize and illustrate in a painting or form in a sculpture. According to her, literature does not always do it justice.

Like numerous heroes in ancient greek mythology, she is obsessed with being the best at something. She knows how to use every tool she comes across and has a broad basic knowledge, however, she cannot recognize how valuable this knowledge is and will complain about her inability to master a skill.

This is in no way connected to the myth of Pygmalion and she will never find her Galatea/something she is good at.

But yeah, she'd like Greek mythology.

Snowblast would be less interested in it, but if Acidsplicer recommended him anything, he'd become interested in it too.

[aramastus]

Love within Chatper 3

(this much longer one) The next morning Chase is in the shower when feels movement in his stomach. He gets out, turns the water off, dries off and gets dressed, and enters the kitchen poking his belly "Hey sweetheart you're hungry?"Mia yawns "Ya…I always am…don't get a lot of food" Mia squeaked as his stomach tightened around her. She felt light-headed and she pulled up a word that hurt somewhat. She closes her eyes until she sees light and she falls out onto something dry and a bit rough under her. Chase " Sorry about that, it was a bit rough, not something I've done a lot, anyways dry off while I cook us some food."Mia used a thing she fell to dry off. It was a very large towel but looked too small for Chase. She jumps when she hears a sizzling noise "Ah!" Chase turns and looks at her confused'' you alright love?" Mia `` w..hay that sounds! Something exploded??"Chase blinked a few times confused" Um no it's just eggs in the pan" moved on so she can see.Mia "Oh... .wait, I thought you ate humans??"Chase " I do but I can eat normal stuff so it just helps me go longer without eating people. I have once every week or so" Mia " You giants are so complicated" sitting down and looking around. "So any thought about what plan to do with me?"Chase "Well for now I'm gonna feed you, otherwise not really. Don't start with asking to die crap again I'm doing it."Mia sighs " I won't….I owe you my life so you do what you want with" Chase wasn't expecting that one. "Good you understand then"  he goes back to cooking.They don't say anything else until the food is done...Mia poked a yellow fluffy thing on the plate "This is food??? It was eggs. Why is it like this?Chase raises a brow " It's an omelet I'm guessing you guys don't make them just try it"Mia pokes it more times before taking a bite. her eyes light up and shove as much as can fit in her mouth.Chase "Whoa slow don't it not going anywhere" taking a bite. By the time Chase had taken his second bite Mia was groaning and lying down." ate too much I see I told you to slow down"Mia " My stomach hurts…..I'm tired…" she whinedChase "Ya you’re overfull from eating too much and probably food coma". Mia rolls onto her side groaning "If being full is painful I don't wanna be full ever again" Chase "Not full, overfull you ate much" She never was full before he wondered. Damn, humans must have worked harder than he thought. But if that is the case, why would it be so harsh to each other's strength in numbers?After they chase the left mic on the counter to go change into his suit for work. He walks back into the kitchen and sighs "Did she run off?" As I reached out, I pet a white cat with orange paws. Mia pokes her head out from under the cat's tail "Why would I run? I told you I owe you my life. This fluffy cat come and sat on me making loud noises telling me it wanted pets'' Chase laughs as seen before just a mess of blonde hair mixed with white fluffy. " Wait, you said she told you she wanted pets?" Scratch the cat's chins.Mia looks away "Umm…ya, I can understand animals. Tho not many people believe me" Chase ' Why would they not? I mean I'm a demon talking to animals is not uncommon, I mean there are beast races and understanding and talking to animals" he moved the cat off Mia. The cat hissed at Chase as he lifts her "Oh shush socks you can lay on poor girl all day" Mia giggled as she heard the cat sassy back at Chase. Chase looks at Mia `` do I want to know what she said?". Mia " She said she can and you can't stop her if she runs off with me I'm her new friendChase smiles a bit "Oh" that going to be an issue when I eat then" placing his hand down on the counter near Mia.Mia " Oh I'm going back to your belly? Walking onto his hand.  Chase blinks, she doesn't sound upset, more just asking "Yes I work today and I'd rather not risk you Running off. And until I can get you to register as my human pet this weekend. I know it is not ideal for you" Mia pats his thumb as he curls up so she doesn't fall "No it ok ... .my life is yours and…it is not that bad. At least last night was not. Tho it kinda boring cans I can't see"Chase: " Can I fix that? Do you know what an iPad is?" Mia looked very confused "Eh what?" Chase goes into how to use one and how it works as picks up his of the living table and shrinks it to mia size. Mia jumps and is wide-eyed" You can shrink things???? Can I group them??"Chase was surprised at how excited she suddenly got because she did not send a lot of the world or well his world " I can shrink anything not living with ease, people on the other hand but harder. No, I can only grow things back to their original size not bigger" Mia looked disappointed. Was she wanting to be his size? Chase wonder. "Alright love back to my belly I've got head to work '' Chase placed her feet into his mouth. Mmmm as shallow as her thighs. She was salty like a pretzel and tasted much better with our dirt. He was lost in her taste until she squirmed. Causing me shallow hard again pulling her up to his belly into his throat. A lump had started to form in that. He wanted to taste her longer but he works. One last forceful shallow and Mia was descending now down to his depth. Once he felt her weight in his belly he sighs and pats her middle.Around lunchtime, Chase pokes his midsection "Mia you awake?" Mia jumps dropping the iPad on her face "Ow…..ya….why?" She had been watching an intense movie, and chase scared her.Chase "You alright love?" Poking his stomach.  Mia `` oh ya just dropped the iPad on my face '' Chase stopped himself from laughing. "It's lunchtime I order some food I will let you out when gets here" Mia honestly had forgotten about food. She was still full for an omelet this morning. She never had so much food before. "I'm not hungry," she says.Chase raise a brow " You know if you want to stay in there you can just say don't need to say you're not hungry" he knows she was telling the truth but he had to tease her. He full he sits up fast "That's not it! I'm not hungry!" Chase laughs causing Mia to fall on her side." Aww are you saying my stomach is not good enough?" Mia "What that's not what I said ... .wait…" Chase roars into laughter making Mia bounce up and down " Oh so do you like it in my belly?" Mia was so embarrassed. But he was not wrong. This was much nicer than her room at the clan or when she had slept in the woods.  She never thought she'd find a giant belly a comfort. Chase "Mia? Are you still there?"Mia `` oh ya…sorry zoned out. But I guess it is. It's not bad…it one-places I've been sucked in'' Chase damn the stomach of a giant man was a nice place what had this little lady been through "I will just put food up we can have it for dinner" Mia settled back down in her corner watching the show again.Chase groaned as knocked at his office "Come in" a fairly skinny male with slick black hair in a white undershirt with a black tie and black pants. Opened the door" Sorry Mr. McCallum there is someone on line 2 who demanded to speak with the owner of The WindRun farms".Chase "Very well I will handle it, Shawn, “ picked up the phone. Listen to this woman yell he can't even understand what she is saying. He holds the phone but from his ear. "Hello???? Anyone there!?"Chase "Yes Miss I'm here I was waiting for you to get done talking I'm Chase McCallum you asked to speak to me"  As Chase started to sigh he fell too small hands Rubbing his inside he let out a little laugh thankful he had muted him. He placed one hand on his stomach.  He spent the last four hours of the day on a call with this raving mad woman. She was complaining that the apples were out of season and demanded to chase a nymph to grow her apples.  

Chase knew people were nuts but this was insane. The whole thing with WindRun was it was a natural growth. No magic was used. He finally hangs up the phone. Chase was exhausted from dealing with this woman. Mia " Are you ok?" Poking his stomach walls.Chase "No but I will be just insane woman and didn't want to listen to a word I said, thank you for the belly rubs they were nice while having to deal with that cracks head"Mia "...it was not a big deal" She had never really been thanked before so it was a new warm feeling.Chase " alright love I'm tired so your gonna have to eat your dinner in there when we get home I'm tried to spit you out and will probably pass out as soon as I lay down"Mia "That's ok….I can just wait to eat until tomorrow I've gone a while without eating before it's no deal I don't wanna be trouble for you"Chase clutches his stomach around her "Hey it is not a problem and you need to eat" he knows life for humans was rough but this seemed kinda insane.Chase rolled over looking at the clock. It was 9 am. He was more tired than he thought. Good thing he doesn't work Saturday. He slowly sat and felt something hit the front of his stomach "Oh right she still in there, Mia?" He was not used to having living humans for so long. But he didn't hate the feeling, it was quite nice. Mia didn't reply to him, he went to get ready for the day taking a shower, brushing his hair, etc. By the time he was done he felt her move and hers a yawn.Mia "Good morning…I think?" Laughs she has no idea I'd night or day she'd have to check the iPad…switch she has no idea where she put it. Well in Chase somewhere 

Chase pats his stomach "Yes it's morning love" next thing Mia knows she was being worked back up Chase's throat it was still rough but faster this time as flops out into cloth. Starts drying herself off. Sock jumps up on the counter and tries to steal Mia but Chase picks her up "We will be back later you can hang out then" then cat hiss at Chase and walks off. Mia "Wow she is not happy with you. She says you're hogging me". Chase "Well you are mine after all hurry up we're going grab some food on the way to pet registration"Mia dried her hair "Oh ya you said something about you guys keeping humans as pets? Also, what's the point of this registration??" Standing up stretching. 

Chase picks her up and drops her in a shirt pocket " Yes some of us do too. And give you more rights and safety, if you're my human pet you can't be eaten or hurt just cause someone or I want to. And if I mistreat you they will take you away and give you to better home"Mia " Wait, you won't be able to eat me anymore??" ConfusedChase laughs and pats her head with one finger " Don't worry love you will end in my belly, I mean like how I eat humans as food" Mia " Ah that's not what I meant…" Blushing dumb jerk she thinks to herself with a small smile.Mia was overwhelmed by the giant world passing by on the car ride to registration. So many things and all kinds of giants. She almost fell out of Chase's pocket trying to get to the window. Thankfully Chase noticed and caught her.As they enter the building Mia saw other humans with little coolers or necklaces leaving with giants. Somewhere happy others looked ready to kill someone. Mia slid down into Chase's pocket. This was all new and a lot was taken in. 

Chase patted his Pocket.Chase " I'm here to register a human pet" pokes Mia "It alright love come out" Mia pokes her head out. The woman behind the counter smiled gently "it ok no one here will hurt you" Mia looks up at Chase who gives her a soft smile. Chase fills out all the paperwork and Mia can't understand anything on paper.  The worker Chase gives a small collar to put on Mia.

[tiredthingbehindyou]

Westward Realization

As I write this, I wish for people to know one thing before they continue reading… I’m so sorry, everyone.

To any who read this, you might want to know my name. My name is not important. All you need to know is that I am the only one left. Everyone else is either dead in a ditch somewhere, gone in places even I can’t find, or simply wants nothing to do with me. I can't blame them. It’s all my fault.

All I wanted was to create, to make something with my fingers. I had managed to do that, but then it all went wrong. I must admit, I’m not entirely sure where it did go wrong. Or maybe it went wrong at the beginning. I’m not sure. It’s strange to not be sure. It’s my job to know things. It’s my job to help. It hurts to remember you all.

To remember your smiles. Your laughs. Your adventures. Your hopes. Your dreams. Your stories. It hurts. But I know I deserve this.

I remember when I first saw her. She was beautiful like fire. She was so inviting, but so dangerous if you got too close to her. I learned the hard way that appearances aren’t always as deceiving as people say they are.

It was a very late Wednesday when I first saw her. I had just finished doing my tutoring session with one of the other students at the prestigious college in my town. The traffic always made my anger issues come to the surface, so I opted to bike or walk everywhere. If I had paid attention to the appearances of things around me, I wonder if I could have saved everyone.

I had entered a small cafe, one of those ones that were co-owned by a sweet old couple that deserved only kindness for what they gave to the community. I had ordered a glass of orange juice and some toast to go. The appearance of the space around me was too calm for what it should’ve been; that should’ve been my first clue.

I walked out of the closing cafe and walked down the street to head to my dorm. My dinner was cheap, but as a broke college student, I could only do so much to feed myself while trying to fight off the urge to take out a loan. I always wanted things to go my way…perhaps that is why I didn’t notice those things about everything until it was too late to run…I thought I was in control.

My school was towards the West. No matter where I went in this city, I always ended up having to go West to go back to what I knew. Since it was late and I was heading to the West, the sunset was blinding me. I had managed to scrape together enough money to buy a decent pair of rose-tinted sunglasses. It was ironic that it was through the iconic color of love that kept me from realizing I was no longer in control.

It was when I was fighting through the piles of the blasted snow in this godforsaken town when the flame of her appeared. The snow seemed to part before her to let her through without trouble. She held an icicle like a baton. I was jealous of how easy she had it. I was struggling, but she had her way paved for her long ago. Perhaps that is why she was the way she was.

I remember our last conversation. The last sentence of the last conversation was all that matters about the complicated strings her and I had between us. The beginning one and the ones in the middle don’t matter. Everyone who was used to being with me knew what those conversations were about. All of them were fake from both parties anyway. We were both such liars, and I’ll freely admit that. I won’t lie about that.

It was a few months after I had seen the white snow pave the way for her to have easy access and frozen baton in her hand when we were left together on a bench together in the warm month of July. I always wondered what would’ve happened if both of us had been honest about how we felt for each other before our last conversation.

She had cleared her throat before speaking. I remember the line. I wish I didn’t. It would make the memories less painful. She had said twenty-eight words. Thirty-five syllables. I remember tem so clearly. I often wonder how I remember the pain so well from our tangled strings and lying conversations.

She had said ‘From the farthest star to the deepest ocean, no distance is too great for us to find each other again. It is time to say goodbye, my dear’. I hate that line. I despise that line. It makes me remember. I don’t like to remember. I hate to remember, but I deserve this pain.

When I had said nothing in return, she huffed and stood up. She made a threat. I didn’t bother to remember that line. I think she expected me to beg her to stay. I didn’t. If I didn't, I wonder if I wouldn’t feel this pain.

When she left, I thought that was the end of our tangled affairs. It was when some boy that looked like my cousin I had talked to occasionally in passing had jumped that I felt an inkling of something strange happening. I brushed the feeling off when I went to the funeral in my suit. The suit had been found on a fallen tree. The irony of the events of everything struck me long after pain had settled into my bones.

When my mother’s ancient car had stalled on the day of her surgery, we all called it a freak accident. I wore the suit to her funeral. When a rooster had been found near a dead ram on my aunt’s farm eating the worms around it, the local papers called it disgusting before moving on to the next story. A flock of vultures had been found eating the meat off of my brother’s decapitated head. There were so many signs I missed in my pain and sorrows.

It was slow at first. A friend moved away. An aunt moved for a better job opportunity. A cousin got married and went to live overseas. An uncle joined the navy. A brother in all but blood left everything behind, including his pregnant girlfriend. So much was happening so fast that even years later, I'm still trying to catch up.

Eventually, I realized I was finally alone. It took many, many years for me to fully comprehend was it really meant to be lonely. This wasn't a case of me having people around me but not reaching out. This was a case of everyone I speak to dying. It was and is so hard to continue to be alive, for I haven't lived since she walked away.

As I sit here now, finishing this letter for whomever may find me, I realize that it is my final journey. I’m smiling as I realize I have gone West once more. I am sorry.

[sunspray-peak]

Ch. 42: Into the Mines Pt. 2

FLOOR 105. 

With a soft “ding” the doors opened. 

A strange rush overcame Achilles’ body as he stepped out—almost like sparkling water, a crisp bubbling sensation that flowed from the soles of his shoes and coasted through his veins down into each of his tingling limbs.

The sensation faded quickly, though a remaining spark lay concentrated at the base of his skull, where it joined the ever-present whispers desperate to be let in. 

But Achilles kept his mind closed, focusing, as he had been instructed, on himself. On who he was. His name, his age. Where he was born. Where he had lived. Each simple, indisputable fact etched on a pane of imaginary plexiglass that altogether was keeping the spirits from infiltrating his mind. 

“I’ve pretty much cleared it already,” Abigail whispered. They stood just outside the elevator, waiting. Her sword was drawn—though the blade was black, he could now see fragments of iridium glittering purple under the torchlight. “Bad luck the other day, really. Yeah, yeah, I admit, things got a little worse after Floor 100, but like, still. Nothing I can’t handle. Guess we must be getting close, eh?”  

Both she and Voltaire suddenly turned sharply to the right, and she raised her blade. “But yeah, got ambushed by a swarm of bats and a squid kid and got banged in the head pretty bad. Gil always says head injuries aren’t a joke and normally I’m like yeah whatever, but still, sure, so I made my way back to the elevator—and good thing too, since it turned out to be a concussion… watch yourself now, something’s coming.” 

Only a second after she had spoken did a shadow brute indeed emerge from around the right hand corner. Slow, sluggish, but dead silent. It looked exactly like Corvus had. A hulking dark grey figure, fuzzy around the edges, as if Achilles wasn’t quite seeing it entirely in focus. It lumbered towards her, and with a deft jab, Abigail poked it right through the center. It disappeared in a puff of grey smoke. 

“Hmm. Don’t know what’s wrong with that one, they’re not usually that slow… 

“Now. Listen up, boyyo. Spirits 101.” She sheathed her sword and dusted her hands together. “There are two types of spirits I’ve discovered down here. You’ve got your ye olde run of the mill shadow brutes, like that one, and also these weird things I like to call shadow shamans. They’re like shadow brutes, but they’ve got these funky orange faces that sorta look like wooden masks? Green mouths. Scary stuff. I don’t feel any on this floor though… but make sure you hit them both right in the heart, otherwise they don’t die. Well—I say die, but Marlon tells me they don’t really die, they just get sent back to their Plane… complicated stuff, I don’t really get it, but whatever. Yeah, anyway. Stab ‘em right in the center of the chest, the heart’s a black sorta ball like thing…”

She deftly withdrew her sword and pointed it at a bounding red mass now oozing its way towards the two of them. “There are monsters down here, too, of course. You saw some back in the Spring, but they’re a little different this deep down. Tougher. Though not as tough as the spirits. You should focus on taking care of these, I think.” 

“Don’t think I can handle the spirits?” Achilles said drily, watching as she easily took down the red sludge and an accompanying scarlet bat in one swoop.  

“Not as well as I can,” she said with a twirl. “Marlon says it comes with my gift. What’s yours again?” 

“Talking. Not that it’s particularly useful, Rasmodius told me I shouldn’t use it outside of one instance…” 

“Then, like, why even come down here? No offense, but I can handle the fighting on my own…” 

She swiftly speared another shadow brute—Achilles had scarcely a second to get a closer look at the heart—and an uneasy chime echoed through the halls. 

“And just like that.” She gave a little curtsy after wiping her blade with the tail of her blue vest. “Looks like we cleared the floor. Or really, I cleared the floor. Come, let’s find the trap door.” 

It took only a few minutes. Whatever Abigail’s gift was that allowed her to sense spirits, it must’ve extended to trap doors, for she led him confidently through the maze of stones. 

But instead of a hole in the ground, there was a circular sheet of what looked like metal. A dull green, with rusty symbols scratched into its surface. 

“Weird.” Abigail kneeled, giving the manhole a tap with her knuckles. “Seems like some kind of lid…” She tried to dig her fingers underneath. “Must be covering the trap door. Normally it’s just like a hole in the ground—I mean, I don’t have to say that, you’ve seen it… maybe this mean’s we really are super duper close to the bottom… huh. Sorry you missed most of the adventure…” 

“Rasmodius told me something would be here…” Achilles murmured, kneeling next to her. Voltaire similarly took a seat, observing from beside Achilles’ left boot. 

“How would he know? No one’s been past the 100th floor. Now help me with this, will ya? It’s heavy…” 

But instead of helping her lift the metal, he placed his palm straight down against the cover. 

Immediately, another sparkling thread surged through his veins, just as the walls of the mine began to shake. 

“Hey yo, what are you doing—”

Achilles shook his head, impatiently shushing her with his other hand. Abigail clung to Voltaire as the floor continued to quake, but Achilles’ mind was focused squarely on the rusty metal, rough and sharp against his skin. 

Rasmodius hadn’t shared much detail—he hadn’t described any symbols, hadn’t mentioned any sort of green metal—but he had said there might be a door. And if they were to come across a door, it would be up to Achilles to make sure they got past it. 

And so, as Rasmodius had instructed him to last night, Achilles turned his attention inwards, to the plexiglass paneled walls in his mind. 

The Wizard had said he could visualize whatever he wanted. With proper training, he wouldn’t have had to visualize anything at all, but they were on “too tight a timeline” (“and whose fucking fault is that, Rasmodius?”), so perhaps it was best if he painted himself a picture. Drawing from real life would be best. 

Achilles had settled on a spectacular greenhouse he had once visited on vacation in Echevera as a child, the memory as fresh as it had been when he was six—it was where he had learned to fall in love with flowers. Iridescent panels of glass that glittered under sun and starlight both, guarding the fantastical floral forest that lay inside from the drought-ridden land beyond. 

Naturally going overboard in following Rasmodius’ instructions, he had spent hours diagramming the greenhouse on paper to rebuild it accurately for his mind, imbuing each glass panel with a specific fact about himself. Rasmodius had said that these glass walls would serve to protect his own sense of self—a self that he had chosen to symbolize, per Rasmodius’ instructions again, with a single item: a bleeding heart flower. It hadn’t been a sentimental decision, just the easiest thing he could vividly conjure up, and that seemed to be the most important element, according to the Wizard. 

My name is Achilles Oleander Robinson. 

I’m 27 years old. 

My parents are Perry Robinson and Apolline Desrosiers. 

I was born in Monstera. 

I’ve lived in Mugwort. I’ve lived in Dendron. I’ve lived in Hyacinthia. 

I currently live in Stardew Valley. 

Facts. Rasmodius had been very clear about that—irrefutable facts of the most straightforward and definitive variety. Easy to remember, easy to focus on, especially under any sort of pressure. If he held these facts in place—if these plexiglass paneled walls could stay strong—he’d keep his mind closed, his thoughts guarded, and the spirits out of his head. 

Though the current floor was cleared of spirits, Achilles could still see feel their voices murmuring in a mass outside the walls of his mind’s greenhouse, eager to be let in. All they needed was for one glass panel to fall… even the smallest, spiderweb crack…  

Unfortunately, shattering that glass was exactly what he had to do right now. 

It would require the utmost concentration, Rasmodius had warned him. He would have to be quick, he would have to be focused—

“So what’s the plan?” Abigail whispered. “Huh? You got a plan?” 

“Abby. I’m going to kindly ask you to be quiet.”

“Sorry!” 

He set both hands against the green metal, and in his mind, he removed a single glass panel, sliding it gently to the side. Immediately voices began to flood his brain—each like a needle-sharp ray of dark, corrupted light aimed straight for the pink flower lying within. 

Who are you?

Who do you think you are? 

Why are you here? 

What do you want? 

But he held his ground with gritted teeth—maneuvering past this volley of words, past the walls of his greenhouse, casting his mind out into the Astral Plane beyond, where man could communicate with spirit. 

Searching, searching, he was searching for something, something different…

Rasmodius hadn’t had much direction to give. He had likened it to radio frequencies—it was all a matter of finding a specific voice to tune into to… but what that voice felt like… 

Did you really think you could win?

No training.

No skills.

No potential.

Achilles’ squeezed his eyes shut even tighter. What was he doing? What in the world was he doing, how could he have ever believed that he could—

Achilles. 

Something new. Like a spark of bright, white light. A bubbling surge through his veins. This was it, this had to be it. He wrapped his mind around the voice, cocooning it in a cloud of his favorite colors. He had to bring it back, back to the greenhouse, to the metal plate beneath his hands… 

Do you think you’re ready for this? 

Achilles gave a start at the question before responding, scrambling to send a thought of his own out into the plane and hoping it landed true to its intended. I… I don’t know. 

It will be worse than you or Abigail will have imagined. 

He swallowed. I know. 

Tell Rasmodius… it wasn’t his fault. 

And then the voice seemed to snap, unleashing a torrent of energy that sent his mind out from the Astral Plane, his physical body sprawling backwards against rocks.

There was fresh blood on the rust. A vague stinging in his half-numb fingertips; he must’ve cut himself on the curled edges of metal. 

He scrambled further back just as the blood, and the symbols etched upon the grate, began to glow green. Then, with a deafening gong, the metal began to rapidly disintegrate, until all that was left were small clouds of grey green dust hovering above a newly revealed two foot wide hole. 

A low, dry moan seemed to thrum from deep below. 

“How the hell did you do that?” Abigail cried. 

Achilles didn’t respond. Close your mind now, close your mind… My name is Achilles Oleander Robinson… Snickety snack, all the panels firm, back in their place… the flower still secure…

After a minute, he clambered up from the ground and wiped his bloody hands against his pant leg. 

“It’s going to get worse, Abby. I think it’s about to get a lot worse.” 

The three (two humans, one cat) peered down into the hole—on and on and on it seemed to stretch, down into pitch black nothingness. The air had grown stale and old. Dry like a tomb. 

“Rasmodius said that, didn’t he?” She looked at Achilles expectantly, sheathing her sword and tightening the straps of her backpack. She made for the rope ladder that was hanging off the side. 

“Yes. And… others.” 

“Well.” She gave him a defiant nod. “Bring it on, then.” 

*****

FLOOR 106. 

“FUCK.” 

The moment Abigail had stepped foot on the 106th floor, a swarm had appeared, absolutely swamping them—red bats, scarlet snakes flying through the air. 

“Go find the trap door,” Abigail bellowed, sword already slicing through the air as Achilles and Voltaire dropped the remaining six feet. 

Low torches lined the walls, but even still it was dark. Marlon had gifted him a ring, same as the one on each of Abigail’s hands now, that emitted an orb of light, but even so, Achilles had to look closely at the ground to find anything. 

He stumbled about. Rocks were littering the place, some glittering with sparkling ores, silver, gold, lavender flashes of iridium even, but they were all just distractions. Voltaire was at his heels, hurrying alongside them as he searched, swiping at the bobbing red sludges and crabs that were aggressively chasing him. 

“There’s so much,” Achilles yelled. Abigail was in the heat of battle—shadow spirits and monsters alike were swarming atop her—only the occasional glint of her slashing sword revealed that she hadn’t been totally overwhelmed. “Do we turn back?” 

“NO! Just—just find the trapdoor, I’ll hold them off!” 

For what seemed like hours, Achilles raced through the floor, leaping over rock formations, dodging monsters and spirits, and trying very hard to keep the ever growing voices out of his head. 

My name is Achilles Oleander Robinson… I’m 27 years old… 

And then—right in the corner, a hole. Mercifully uncovered, for they likely couldn’t spare a single second for Achilles to work his gift on another manhole. 

“OVER HERE!” he bellowed. “ABIGAIL.” 

A pounding of footsteps. Seconds passed, though they felt like hours again as more and more spirits seemingly began to emerge from the walls and surround him. 

He raised his sword, holding it aloft at an angle with one hand, the other resting behind his back, ready to lunge, ready to strike the spirits right in their black hole of a heart. Precision, at least, would likely not be an issue here, if he could just get back in the groove of his fencing days… but even so, how many could he truly take on? 

But then—there she was. Rounding the corner, bats and crabs and strange, pink faced discs at her heels. 

“Go, go!” she cried, waving her sword. “What the hell are you waiting for?” 

Voltaire, who had been swiping at any sludges that came too close, leapt onto Achilles shoulder. 

“I hope you don’t regret coming, boy,” Achilles said, diving towards the trapdoor, sword still held aloft. 

“Meow!” 

*****

FLOOR 107. 

“I’ve… I’ve never seen it like that before,” Abigail wheezed as they paused briefly to catch their breaths on the rope ladder. “So many. I—how did I not feel—I don’t know why—”

“Save your breath, Abby, I think you’re going to need it.” 

For the voices outside the walls of his mind had increased in their fervor, pounding on the glass with smoky fists. More. What was waiting for them down below? It could only mean more… 

The moment his foot touched the ground, Abigail and Voltaire both screamed in alarm just as dozens and dozens of shadow brutes came surging out of thin air. Their hollow eyes gazed hungrily at the trio, cold, crescent moon mouths dripping with wispy drops of smoke. 

“Find the door, find the door!” Abigail screeched once again, pushing him down a corridor to the right before diving straight into the melee, sword aloft. 

Achilles didn’t need to be told twice—he kicked a blood red crab aside, swerving to dodge the blurred forms of more shadow brutes, diving under the reaching grasps of orange faced shadow shamans. 

The corridor was growing more and more narrow—scarcely three spirits able to stand abreast at its widest point. But they were closing in, ready to circle him. 

Achilles fought to keep his cool. 

Up ahead—sure he was lean, but even he’d likely have to suck in his stomach to push himself past the gap between the two stone walls. Hell, hopefully that’s all he’d have to do—suck in his stomach—for he’d be a sitting duck if he got trapped there… 

Fuck, was this even the right direction? Abigail had pushed him to the right, but there had been another corridor, to the left—

The spirits were closing in.

Voltaire sprinted ahead, leaping over a red sludge, right between the legs of a shadow spirit, and disappeared through the gap. 

Achilles raised his sword, retreating to another narrow gap in the wall, ready to strike the spirits one by one as they neared—

A yowl. A yowl of triumph—Voltaire had reappeared, tugging on Achilles’ pan leg towards the narrow gap. 

“This way, Abigail!” 

She came just in time. Half a dozen spirit brutes were on her tail, but together, the two charged forward, pushing the spirits back and striking down the ones that dared get too close. 

“Go, go, go!” Achilles shoved Abigail forward first. With her petite frame, she slipped through the walls easily. His turn. 

He turned to the side. Rough rock scraped against his forehead, his knees. Abigail offered her hand. 

The shadow brutes were following, just a foot away now. 

Fuck, GO! 

A red sludge had bounded its way in and he gave it a wicked stomp, using the momentum to further push through the gap in the stone. 

“Come on, come on!” Abigail groaned with the effort, pulling him through the rock as Voltaire fended off a trio of scuttling lava crabs at her heels. 

Why are you here? 

“No,” Achilles groaned, sweat beading down his forehead, down his palms, hands slippery as Abigail yanked on them with all her strength. Just two more feet. “Close your mind, fuck—my name is Achilles Oleander Robinson, I’m 27 years old—”

“LET’S GO!” 

He was through—Abigail hadn’t let go, and they raced towards the trapdoor that was indeed waiting for them hand in hand.

*****

FLOOR 108.

It was remarkable. Whatever Abigail’s gift was, she seemed to sense the shadow spirits milliseconds before they struck, like some sort of sixth sense. Twisting from their strikes with ease, landing blows with expert finesse; it was obvious why she had made it so far down the mines on her own. 

And yet, never before had she experienced the numbers that continued to wait for them as they descended. 

Floor 108 had been completely overrun the moment they stepped foot on the soft, red clay floor. Barely room to swing a cat, though Voltaire continued to make himself useful, swiping at sludges and squid kids—hovering pink disks so dubbed by Abigail due to the sucker-like texture of their faces. 

It would be impossible to escape the malicious mass and sprint to the trapdoor, wherever it was— no, they would have to fight their way through. 

Achilles was clumsy; the sword was, as to be expected, heavier that what he was used to, and he missed more often than he successfully struck those shadow spirits’ coal-like hearts. And of course with half his mind focused on building a fucking greenhouse… it was no wonder Abigail had to fight with the fury of ten to ensure the pair weren’t completely overrun. 

You’re a waste of space here. 

A distraction. 

Perhaps Alex had been right… What was he doing here? He had opened the manhole, his task was over. Surely he was just dead weight now—

“Go, go!” 

Hands at his back. Abigail shoving him towards a break in the line they had managed to carve out. 

He stumbled through, shoving back a pair of shadow brutes, and, in a half-dazed sprint, followed Voltaire through the tunnels towards the trapdoor the cat had managed to locate. 

*****

FLOOR 109. 

Achilles joined Voltaire in the search, splitting off into pairs as he took the lefthand tunnel and the cat the right. 

Unlike Abigail, Achilles couldn’t sense the spirits—not their physical presence, at least, and they had a nasty habit of disappearing in a puff of smoke as he approached, only to reappear once he had sprinted past, now lurking unseen just behind him. 

If not for Abigail, he would’ve been sliced to bits through the back ages ago. She kept close to him, covering him as he clambered over rocks and stalagmites, eyes straining in the low light of their glow rings. Abigail need not rely entirely on sight though—able to immediately sense the spirits’ silent reemergence into the human plane, she was quick to strike them down. 

Even so, sometimes even Abigail was too slow—too overwhelmed by the dozens and dozens of spirits and monsters laying waste to the pair. Achilles stumbled on a rock, and, distracted by his cry, Abigail had turned from the battle and was burned by an errant fire ball. 

Useless. 

A distraction. 

Why are you here?

“Voltaire!” Achilles managed to choke out as he dodged a flying snake, two inch long fangs poised to deliver a paralyzing venom. He cut it down with his sword, the head plunging down the trapdoor he had uncovered. “Abigail! Voltaire! Over here!” 

[boquetofblades]

Äs Nödt never liked festivals.

The reason why that is comes from one of his very first assignments as a Sternritter, His Majesty placing trust within his loyal subject for the first time since joining the Wadenreich.

For this mission, The Quincy was sent to the living world; it wasn’t anything too hard, just gather some information and report it to His Majesty.

That was all that had to be done.

However, there was a… festival going on at the time.

Äs Nödt never experienced a festival before; he body too fragile to step outside and experience one, too weak to scream from joy and watch the fireworks illuminate the sky in reds, pinks, greens, and all sorts of other colors; only seeing small flashes of barely illuminating his room, the irritatingly loud noises preventing the hospitalized one from sleeping.

However, during the time of his mission, The Sternritter could actually do those things now- go out and incessantly scream with everyone about some colored lights in the sky.

But he didn’t care for it when that was happening- purely focused on getting his mission finished; so, he didn’t stick around for it.

He didn’t grab the sparklers everyone else was holding, didn’t eat the food everyone else was eating, didn’t sit by to watch the fireworks everyone else would be watching- he didn’t do any of that.

He just wanted to get the mission done so His Majesty could be pleased with him.

And eventually, the Quincy did get the mission done, but there were complications.

Midway through his mission; specifically, thirty minutes before the fireworks were supposed to start, some… kid, was running around the streets, far from where the fireworks were supposed to be observed; a too-bit sparkler in a too-little hand.

Äs Nödt did not appreciate the inconvenience.

He tried his best to keep his distance from the kid, not wanting to deal with the sparkler landing on his clothes and setting them on fire, covering him in that pain once again- shall the brat trip on their own feet.

The distance didn’t work. The kid fell.

The rest is only blurs of reds and oranges, horrified screams- one of distress, and another of pain- bloody streets, the red liquid on The Sternritter’s hands, pooling underneath his nails, dripping down onto the corpse strewn across his feet.

The fireworks were delayed.

The Fear completed his mission after an hour.

He pleased His Majesty.

When it comes to his King, The Sternritter refuses question to question him- for why the ruler commits seemingly atrocious sins is beyond any who bare witness to them- the intentions only known to His Majesty.

Much like a god, doing heinous deeds for reasons that only he himself can understand.

Yes, the least His Majesty can be compared to is a god.

A god, who’s will shan’t be questioned- for if it is, the poor mortal who does so shall receive divine punishment from the holy being, the one who shall create a new world for all who deserve it.

A new world, leaving behind an old one full of despair and pain- a new world created by none other than the holy hands of His Majesty himself.

And in order to aid His Majesty in his goal, the Wadenreich must do whatever he orders, no matter how messy the task may be.

Äs Nödt cannot doubt The Deathdealing’s loyalty towards His Majesty, for as eccentric as he seems, he always gets the task done- no matter what way he does it.

However, the next few words that come out of the other man’s lips have the former human’s eyes narrow, annoyance starting to writhe underneath his skin.

Must Äs Nödt spell it out for him? Must he explain every intricacy of that simple answer to the one who has served in the Wadenreich for far more years than The Fear himself?

The difference in times is almost unbelievable, with the way the other acts so casually, as if he cannot make his own decisions- like a newborn infant.

He stops in his tracks, turning around to face The Deathdealing.

“Whatever you want.” Is The Sternritter’s simple answer, turning back around again to find any Hollows that would suit- no, go beyond- His Majesty’s tastes for potential soldiers to be fit into the role of Quincies.

Hueco Mundo is exactly how The Jailer described it.

Äs Nödt had never personally interacted with his… comrade; always found him too loud and eccentric, but Nödt did overhear of his exploits to Hueco Mundo. He’d usually drone on and on about how more than half of the recruits he 'scopes out' aren't worthy of being in the Wadenreich, so more than half of them would have to be eliminated. To add on, the sunglass-wearing would also consistently talk of how there’s nothing to keep him entertained, the realm of the Hollows being a desolate, boring, sad desert.

He’s right.

From the stone elevation Äs Nödt is on (only three feet above the floor), he sees nothing but sand, the thing stretching out as far as the eye can see.

Not a single living thing is within the sand; not a person, animal, or even plant within this desolate landscape.

Paired with the sand; there’s a hollow, lonely wind blowing, ruffling Äs Nödt’s hair just the tiniest bit.

This realm is completely different from the living one, where there’d be life as far as the eye can see; humans, animals, and any other kind of life would be bustling along the cities, chittering amongst their phones as hurry to their destinations, trying to finish whatever business they need done.

If there was any wind, it’d have a sort of… personality: warm and friendly, or violent and furious- nothing like the empty wind of where the Hollows’ world.

Right now, Äs Nödt prefers Hueco Mundo more than the living world. It’s quieter, a place where the Quincy could possibly be ignored, so long as he ignores others.

But even then, the threat of death hangs even more over his head, the thread holding him from the fiery pits of hell even thinner than the one in His Majesty’s palace.

No matter where he goes, his life will always be threatened, so it is best to stay where it is threatened the least, where at least, his position is secured.

When The Deathdealing appears behind him, The Fear doesn’t make any sign of acknowledgement to his existence, not even glancing at the taller man.

Part ways or go together?

At that, the Sternritter’s eyes roll to the side, body tilting with them as he mulls over the question.

Should they part ways, or should they complete this mission together?

His Majesty had only asked them to go and come back together; nothing about the two Sternritters doing the entire mission together.

So in that case, The Fear could technically do the mission alone.

But at the same time, His Majesty said nothing about the two Sternritters doing the entire mission together, so would doing it along displease him? Would it cause Äs Nödt to lose his life, the one he so desperately tried to build?

He’s unsure. He doesn’t know what to do, what course of action to take in order to fulfill His Majesty’s orders in a way that will please the man.

Should he do the mission alone, or do it with The Deathdealing? Which way will please the Quincy King?

Äs Nödt’s eyes roll back to to where they were originally, his body slowly straightening itself as he comes up with his solution to this dilemma of his.

“Do as you wish,” Is his answer, the Quincy soon dropping down from the platform, sand stirring up and staining his cloak when he lands on it- the movement looking slow and graceful, as if he was floating instead of falling.

[rose-pearls]

Sirius and Amortentia

Summary: Sirius and you have been secretly together and decide to announce it in potion class.

Hogwarts was a bit of a chaotic school on itself but when you include the marauders it becomes even more messy. Just last week the Slytherin dorms were flooded with water, and they had made sure that their quidditch uniforms were red and gold for when they had to play against Ravenclaw. You never really had an issue with them but sometimes they could be a lot particularly when James Potter was declaring his love for Lily Evans for the third time this week – it was only Tuesday – in the middle of breakfast.

“My dear, lovely, Lily flower will you agree to go on a date with me?”, you had to give it to him, the guy was perseverant. Plus, he always seemed to think that Lily would finally say yes after three years of asking her out and getting rejected. As the red-haired girl throws her orange juice in James’s face, the rest of the students go back to their breakfast; just a normal morning at Hogwarts.

The bell rings and everyone starts to pack their bags to go to class, my friend Emily starts to complain about the two hours of potion class that are about to start. 

“I just don’t understand it! One wrong thing and everything goes to flame, and it always seems to be me cauldron!”, I rubbed her back to try and lift her mood up but the sight of the Gryffindor’s with who we share the class seems to bring her even more down.

“Plus, we have literally the smartest witch in our class, Evans. I mean how am I supposed to fail and learn when Slughorn is just constantly praising her!”, she let out a sigh and as we got closer to the potion’s door, I could feel her tense up.

“Listen you are maybe not a pro in potions”, Emily huffs at that and starts to pout. “But you are amazing at quidditch and transfiguration when it’s one of the most complicate subjects! And do not compare yourself to Evans, you are an amazing person on your own!”, she gives me a small smile and gets ready to enter the class.

“Alright everyone before you all sit down, I will assign you places.”, a collective groan rang trough the class.

I hear Emily starting to mumble something under her breath about how unhappy she is with the decision, but I don’t listen verry much as I catch Sirius’s gaze who gives me a coy smile. I feel my cheeks heat up but smile back at him which seems to make him happy.

Slughorn starts to go over the names and Emily groans silently when she hears she must sit next to Peter Pettigrew. 

“And lastly Black and Y/L/N”, I looked up at that and saw Sirius already going to our desk for the next semester. 

As I sit down next to him Sirius puts an arm around the back of my seat and smiles softly at me.

“Well, well, look at that beautiful we are next to each other for the rest of the schoolyear”

That boy always seemed to find a way to make me blush and once again a large blush was forming on my cheeks.

“Like you don’t see me enough already handsome.”, Sirius started to blush a bit at the nickname but then started to play with my hair.

“Mmmh well meeting in secret is not really enough.”, he was humming a tune at that and was looking at me with his big grey eyes.

“That is true, I miss you when you I can’t see you.”, the smile that Sirius gave me at that moment could probably relive Merlin. That boy was dangerously handsome.

“Well, we could always tell our friends… I mean the boys have been bugging me about why I always have a dumb smile on my face and a dreamy look.”, I could tell he was sincere with the way he was nervously playing with my fingers and trying to avoid my gaze as if he was scared that I was going to say no.

We had been together for two months and at our first date we agreed to first keep it between us to be sure of the relationship. It was my first relationship and Sirius had never really had a real relationship. You could tell it was getting hard for him to hide it from the rest of his friends.

“That is a good idea.”, Sirius head went so quickly upwards that he cracked his neck a bit. 

I started giggling at his face which was a mix of pain but a lot of mischief.

“Thank god because as much as I enjoy our secret make out sessions I really want to be able to kiss you and touch you all the time!”, the blush started to form again on my cheeks as he sends me a wink.

“How do you want to say it to them? I’m sure you want to do it in a mischievous way.”, judging by Sirius’s blinding smile I was right.

“You know me too well love!”, I giggled at the kiss he dropped on my cheek.

Slughorn raised his voice to calm the class and to start his lesson. 

“Today we are going to be doing the Amortenia potion, can anyone tell me what that is?”

A lot of people raised their hands and Emily seemed excited to answer that question.

“Miss Evans why don’t you tell us?”, I caught Emily’s eye roll at that and sent her a sympathetic smile.

“Amortentia is the most powerful love potion in the world. It is distinctive for its mother-of-pearl sheen, and steam rises from the potion in spirals. Amortentia smells different to each person, according to what attracts them.”, Lily finished her explanation and I felt Sirius move at that.

“I found our plan!”, he whispered at me.

“What?”

“We make that potion, obviously it’s going to smell like the other and Slughorn will ask for volunteers to say what it smells like, and we say it then!”, I looked at Sirius in a bit of shock while he looked at me like he was Merlin himself.

“I guess it could work!”

“My plans always work!”, I laughed at that because that wasn’t true.

While Sirius acted offended the professor had tasked us with starting to make the potion.

After about one hour and a half of making the potion, everyone was finally finished and Slughorn was trying to contain everyone’s excitement.

“Before you all go and smell the potion, I want to ask some of you to describe what you smell in the potion.”

After the professor said that two hands raised up, Sirius and of course James. Slughorn seemed surprised but let James go first.

“I smell fresh grass, my mother’s homemade pie and a perfume.”, the boy seemed to blush at that last smell.

“Do you recognize the perfume?”, everyone was suddenly verry interested at the question.

“Yes… it’s Lily’s perfume.”, the class went into a complete silence at that, and everyone started looking at Lily who looked gob smacked.

“Well at least you know who it is my boy!”, Slughorn clapped excitedly into his hands to get everyone’s attention while James’s cheeks went as red as his uniform.

“Mister Black you wanted to have a go at it?”, Sirius nodded and smelled the potion.

“It smells like a wet dog, Misses Potter homemade pie and Y/N”, if everyone wasn’t already in shock after James they certainly were now.

“How do you know it smells like her?”, the professor seemed hesitant to ask and Sirius just started beaming with pride.

“Well, I would know how my girlfriend smells like!”, it was silent for a beat before the whole class erupted in chatter. But one voice went above all of them.

“That is why you looked like a lovesick goblin all the time!”, James was out of his chair and pointing an accusing finger at Sirius.

“Excuse you I do not look like a goblin, right love?”, Sirius looked at me waiting for an affirmation and while I nodded and started laughing at the two idiots.

“Yes, you do! And you can’t ask your girlfriend she is bias. Why didn’t you tell me you were together?”, at these last words James seemed a bit hurt, and I felt bad.

“Professor could James and the rest of the marauders be excused while we talk this out?”, Slughorn seemed defeated but let the four boys go out knowing that otherwise it would be worse.

Sneakily Emily went into the seat next to me and looked at me like a disappointed mother would look at her child.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”, I let out a sigh at that.

“It’s pretty recent and I wanted to be sure that it was a serious relationship before telling you.”, she nodded her head at that and gave me a small smile.

“I am happy for you but be careful. If he breaks your heart, I will kill him!”, I laughed a bit at that and hugged her side seeing as we were still in class and that Slughorn was trying to have everyone calm down.

The four boys came in when Slughorn said to go out early because he knew no one would be able to concentrate. Emily was busy asking me the details when they got closer to us.

“Sirius explained everything, and I want to officially welcome you to the marauder’s girlfriend club!”, Sirius slapped James head at that, and the other boy groaned in pain while Remus looked done with the situation.

“What James is trying to say, and failing”, James scoffed at Remus’s words. “Is that we are happy you make Sirius happy, and you are welcome to join us on our ‘adventures’.”, Remus gives me a kind smile and I felt myself relax. 

“Thank you that is verry kind, and I am sorry that Sirius kept it from you guys I wanted to make sure it was…”, before I could say anything Sirius chimed in

“Sirius?”, everyone groaned at that while he started laughing.

“Like Remus said you are welcome to join us on our pranks and our fun but if you hurt Sirius, you will have the marauders against you!”, Sirius started protesting at James’s words, but I could tell that it touched him, James really cared about him.

“Don’t worry it’s the last thing that I want to do!”, James nodded at that and gave me a big smile while taking Sirius between his arm and messing up his hair.

The two boys started play fighting while Remus, Peter, Emily, and I started talking and laughing at the two best friends/brothers. 

Sirius manages to get away from James for a second and takes the chance to send me a big grin before James starts to tickle him.

[teddyduchampsglasses]

What It Would Be Like In A Poly Relationship With Steven Meeks And Gerard Pitts

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Coming to the conclusion of “we’re all dating” was a confusing process. All three of you were sitting around Meeks’ and Pitts’ room, in a comfortable silence, when you decided to get something off your chest, something that had been on your mind for a bit now. Probably about to ruin the comfortable silence. “Look, okay, this is hard for me to say, but I like both of you.” You said, your face turning a dark crimson as you looked over at the wall. They were silent at first until finally, Meeks spoke up and added to your statement with “I like you too...But I also like Gerard.” Which made a smile grow across your lips and Pittsie’s face turn a deep shade of red, just like your own. “But I like you both too.” Was what Pitts squeaked out.

It was a complicated and long conversation, trying to decided who would date who, if Meeks and Pitts would date, if you and Pitts would date or if Meeks and you would date. You all just couldn’t agree upon a final pairing, not being able to pick who you liked more, when Pitts just mumbled “Well...Why don’t we all date.” No one really said anything about the whole topic after that, but it was obvious you all happily agreed and liked that idea. But the words were never shared, it was never “official”, it just kinda happened.

That being said, it’s always a jumbled mix of “uhm”’s and “I don’t know”’s when someone asks if you’re all a thing, because you don’t really know what you all are. Those conversations usually just end in you all awkwardly shrugging while looking around at one another. You guys also never said anything about it to the rest of the poets, never clarifying if you were actually in a relationship or not. They just all kind of knew, and that was that.

Holding hands with Meeks was really one of the first, big turning points in you guy’s relationship. A mutual agreement was formed then, you all just knew “well...guess we’re dating now”, without the words actually being said. The same with quick hugs between passing periods that were shared with Pitts. He absolutely loved hugs, and giving them to Meeks and you was another, special signal.

It wasn’t often a struggle to come to an agreement for dates. One of you would throw out really any random suggestion that came to your mind, and boom, that’s what you found yourself doing an hour later.

Pitts perfered things such as tree climbing, which Meeks would happily sit and watch the two of you from the ground, the safe grass, where he wouldn’t fall, and Pitts also liked picnics. Which seemed to be a group favorite, picnics. Meeks liked dates such as ice skating and climbing up to the top of a water tower to look out at the view over town or watch the sunset cast pinks and oranges over each of your features. 

Studying together wasn’t uncommon, study dates and helping each other with homework was a very normal thing. And you all actually worked very nicely together.

The conversations are never boring, bringing up random topics, new things you learned and having intellectually stimulating conversations is a must have. You three could talk for hours about anything that would get your brain thinking. Many mature and academic debates have been held between the three of you, politely arguing with respectful reasons is your speciality. So when the time comes that you do get into an actual argument or fight, it’s gonna be like a whole damn debate.

Blanket and pillow forts are almost always set up in each other’s dorms. Meeks’ and Pitts’ room is so full of them, and because of that, they’ve stopped sleeping on their beds and just sleep in the little set up tents every night. So much tea and gossip has been spilled in the depths of those forts, many late night book readings and make out seasons have gone on in the dim light.

Playing a game of tossing Stevens glasses around is a terrible, terrible thing. But that doesn’t stop you and Pitts from taking part in it. Tossing them around the room while effortlessly dodging him. Yes it’s crude, but he’s like a little blind puppy. It’s totally worth it to laugh at later.

You like to play with the boys hair, so they often argue about “whose turn it is”. They don’t argue over much, but that’s the exception. They love to have their hair played with. It doesn’t matter where or when, they will gladly have their hair played with. In or out of class, while you’re trying to sleep and more. They are needy in that aspect.

Meeks making food for the three of you is one of his favorite activities. Bringing meals into the dorm and seeing Pitts face and yours light up is like a treat to him. He’s an extraordinary cook and you couldn’t be more thankful.

You and Meeks only wear Pitts’ clothes. You take his sweatshirts, sweaters, t-shirts, long sleeves and more. You don’t wear each other’s clothes and he doesn’t wear yours, you guys only wear his. He doesn’t mind though, because not only does he get to see the two of you wear his over sized hoodies around school, but when he receives them, they always smell like you and Meeks.

Squeezing all three of you into an arm chair is how you guys cuddle. And it’s odd because most of the time, you actually make it work. Usually by just sitting on Pitts lap, but it still works. Being so close is extremely comforting and you’ve all been caught, many times. Which only makes the teachers more suspicious of the relationship you all hold.

Mr. Keating is your biggest supporter for some random and unknown reason. Probably because you all get your work done ten times better ever sense you’ve all started dating. Anyway, so that means, ever sense you’ve all became a thing, he’ll group you together for group projects, not even letting you intervene or speak, just throwing the three of you a little smirk before he sends you on your way. You’ve never told him before but he knows. He definitely knows. And most likely because Neil told him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Next are Charlie and Cameron so Charlie and Cameron simps, stay tuned :)

[royallyprincesslilly]

Title: Hibiscus Kisses {6}

Chris Evans x OFC Ajali Rambaue AU {Ah-Jah-Lee, Ram-Bow}

Warning: Plot, Cursing, Angst, Blood, Lots Of Words, Death

Words: 8.3k

Summary: Ajali decides on a rash decision to go on a Disney cruise, not for her love of Disney, but because she needs time to figure things out after things get even more complicated in her complicated life. She only expected peace, quiet, tropical drinks, and an overabundance of Disney songs. What she got was more than she bargained for when the cruise of a lifetime on the brand new ship Enchantment turned into a nightmare. The only saving grace is that she’s not the only one living through the nightmare. Can Ajali survive the test of a lifetime and the dangers ahead of her, and better yet, will she finally be able to live a little?

Note: Please feel free to tell me what you think. I’m super excited to explore this one with you all. 🤗

As always, thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed this, please LIKE, COMMENT, REBLOG! ❤️❤️

I appreciate each and every one of your guys’ support and love!

***VERY Loosely Edited/Proofread***

**Interactive**

Previous Chapters: {1} | {2} | {3} | {4} | {5} |

You must have stood at the back of the yacht for a while because the shore and the docks were barely visible at this point. Every minute that ticked by you weighed your options of just diving in and swimming back. Everything you came up with seemed fine to deal with. So what if your hair got wet and you had to go through your four-hour wash and treat routine. So what if you attracted a shark or two, you could swim. So what if everything in your bag got drenched, you could replace them.

 With the number of rebuttals you came up with, you should have jumped in already. The major con that was flashing in your head in neon lettering was you are an adult and not a child who ran away from difficult situations. The sound of laughter had you turning around to see Chris laughing with Harper. He looked like he didn’t have a care in the world. Scoffing, you turned back around and crossed your arms.

 Almost a minute later you felt Chris standing beside you. “If you want to swim back I’m sure you could make it.”

 If looks could kill, the one you gave him should have done it. All you had to do was push him overboard to a watery grave. Chris lifted his hands to show his no threat status and that was when you walked away.

 “All right folks. It’ll be another forty minutes before we arrive at the best fishing spot in all of the islands. It’s my little secret. In the meantime, you have a choice of activities. You can go down below and marine watch, stay on deck and do some pictures and sights, or go into the bubble where you are surrounded by the ocean. It is optimal for fish watching. I’ll let you folks know when we’ve arrived.”

You nodded and walked toward the steps that would lead below deck. You fully intended to get as far away from him as possible. Ignoring the way he turned to you as if he had something to say, you carefully went down the steps and to the back of the yacht. There you found what Harper was referring to. It looked like an actual bubble with two seats. Once you sat down you saw why this was mentioned as the most sought-after experience. You really felt like you were alone under the ocean and not apart from it but one with it.

You watched a school of yellow and black striped fish swim by and a small box popped up to the right of the screen with a still photo of the fish and a few listed facts.

 “Moorish Idol fish. These fish commonly inhabit tropical to subtropical reefs and lagoons. These fish usually travel alone or in small schools. These fish mate for life and adult males show aggression to one another.”

 Your jaw dropped. You hadn’t expected it to be high-tech. In front of you, you grabbed the flipbook and flicked through it to see a variety of sea creatures. The announcement of another fish brought your attention back to the ocean before you and that is where your eyes remained. Creature after creature swam by and up to the glass. Each one was announced and described. As they came up, you took pictures of the pretty ones you liked ready to show them to your family when you returned home.

 You were so wrapped up in fish watching that you didn’t notice that you weren’t alone until it was too late. Chris slipped into the seat beside you, startling you. Your harsh glare landed on him with the force of fifty blades behind it. He wasn’t looking at you though, his eyes were glued to the water and passing reef life.

 “Oh wow, Nemo and Dory,” Chris exclaimed inching closer to the glass.

 That was all it took for your attention to go right back, and lo and behold there were Dory and Nemo lookalikes.

 “Wow.”

 Mirroring Chris’s actions you slid to the edge of the seat as well and touched the glass. They were pretty in animation but that had nothing on real life. The orange and blue were so striking up close.

 “They’re even best friends in real life,” Chris quietly said.

 For the next few minutes neither of you spoke again you were too wrapped up in looking at all the fish that passed by one after the other. When you’d reached a part of the ocean where life was scarce, you sat back and crossed your arms.

 “Can I please explain?”

 You sighed and dropped your head back to rest on the hard headrest, keeping your eyes trained in front of you.

 “I promise I’m not this asshole you have me pegged as in your head.”

 “So you don’t go around trying to charm women out of your panties and in your bed for notches on your bedpost?”

 “God no!”

 You rolled your eyes not believing one word.

 “I solemnly swear that I am up to nothing but good,” Chris replied holding up three fingers.

A smirk teased your lips at the Harry Potter line he’d just repurposed for his own use mixed with the Hunger Games salute. You shook your head unable to ignore how adorkably stupid he was.

 “You know those two have nothing to do with the other, right?”

 Chris slyly smiled and shrugged. “It’s sorta my thing. Sleeping around and I have nothing to do with each other also.”

 You snorted and shook your head. He was smooth.

 “You’re real smooth, I’ll give you that.”

 He sighed and turned his body more to you. “It’s a misunderstanding,” Chris began.

 “Let me stop you there. Ninety-nine point nine percent of the time anyone starts off with that, chances are there was no misunderstanding,” you dryly informed.

 “That high? Okay, then I fall in the point one percent.”

 You glared at him again but he didn’t back down, he held your glare but behind his eyes, you saw nothing but sincerity rather than the hostility you had spearing behind yours. When you didn’t object, he opened his mouth to speak again but you looked away.

 “There’s no need.”

 “Why won’t you let me explain?”

 You knew why. If he explained and the explanation seemed plausible and he looked sincere the chances of you believing it would be eighty percent and that was high. You would then continue spending time with him because you did enjoy his company and conversation and eventually sleep with him. Maybe. Letting him explain was step one that would lead to a series of missteps. Then you’d find yourself in a situation come the end of the cruise when both of you went your separate ways. There were too many what-ifs in the air.

 “Ah, I think I know. If you let me explain then this image you have of me being a womanizer who is after fast and quick ass, who would come on a cruise to chase women for a notch would be debunked. If it is debunked, then you’d have to admit that you liked spending time with me and enjoyed yourself. Then you’d have to admit that what might have happened if my phone didn’t ring wouldn’t have been a one-off. You’d have to face the possibility that there might be something here past our physical attraction.”

 Well damn, you thought. For a moment your thoughts betrayed the steely animosity in your eyes and you knew your shock shone through. You quickly looked away from him and tapped into your inner Elsa while watching a school of white fish pass by. You could feel him beside you staring at you as if trying to crack your resolve. You fought against him and kept your breathing slow and steady.

 “You don’t have to tell me I’m right. I know I am and it’s not because I’m a cocky prick. It’s because—,” Chris paused then sighed heavily before he continued. “I liked spending time—with you. Like really liked it and this was before anything physical happened. You’re funny and fun and not phased by this thing called fame that is wrapped around me. You probably don’t understand it, but that’s something refreshing and attractive to me.”

 Unable to resist any longer, you sneakily glanced at him while wondering if any part of what he’d just said was possibly true.  

 “Before I came on this cruise to get away from my life—run away from my life.”

 Your interest piqued. Why was he running away? Didn’t he have everything?

 “My friend, the one you heard on the phone was teasing me about the reason. I didn’t want to give him the real deal so I kept quiet which led him to the conclusion that it had something to do with a woman. It didn’t but he thought it. So the phone call was him stating his opinions again, his way of life. Now I’m not condoning what he said at all but that’s his life. I didn’t come here for any of that and that night wasn’t about that for me.”

 “What was it about?”

 You blurted the question without a thought and once you’d asked, you regretted it. The answer wouldn’t do you any good.

 Sighing, you looked back out to the water. “Don’t answer that.”

 And he didn’t. The silence stretched and your thoughts did as well. You contemplated his explanation and the probability of any of it being true. He had all the reason to lie right now, but the more you thought about it the more you guessed he didn’t need to lie being who he was. He could have just shrugged and put you on the side that wasn’t a fan of his and kept it moving.

 “Look,” Chris said shoving his phone to you with the text exchange between him and someone named Austin was visible.

 “I know what it is to be distrustful of strangers or everyone really and proof means a lot to me. Since the burden of proof is on my side, here it is.”

 You read through the exchange from a little over a week ago and sure enough, his friend Austin was scum. The irrefutable proof showed those sentiments were his and even showed Chris admonishing him for those sentiments and setting him straight. The banter that continued was Austin teasing him about his good boy behaviors. From the texts, you could tell they were close, and you could also tell that Austin was the asshole between them and Chris was possibly a good guy.

 Groaning, you looked away and dropped your head back to the headrest again. You did not need this. Sighing, you closed your eyes and listened to the silence. Several minutes passed by where neither of you spoke and just when you were going to Harper’s voice came in over the ship’s intercoms.

 “We have some dolphin action up here if anyone’s interested.”

 “Dolphins!”

 Your head snapped to Chris hearing the uncharacteristically excited squeal. Did he really just turn into a Powerpuff girl? Chris leapt to his feet and began walking toward the steps leaving you there to wonder just what kind of man he was.

 A few moments later, you emerged from below and walked to the railing to see a dolphin jump out of the water in the distance.

“Oh my god!”

 At that moment you felt your smallness in the world. There were so many other creatures that were bigger and yet humans always thought themselves so superior. It was baffling.

 “It’s not always like this, they must be here to greet you folks,” Harper said as another jumped out and one swam up.

 You dropped down to your knees and peered over the railing and marveled at the aquatic beauty.

 “They’re so friendly.”

 Just then, a dolphin popped up showing its long bottlenose and black eyes and in the same breath, a stream of water came at you drenching you. In your shock, you just sat there while Chris and Harper heartily got their laugh in at your expense. To add insult to injury the dolphin even sounded like it was laughing. Who could be mad though? It was too cute. You looked across the way and saw Chris snapping pictures of you with a wide smile on his face. Being alarmed, snapping at him, or even telling him to delete the pictures would have all been acceptable reactions but you didn’t react in any of those ways. Instead, you brought your attention back to the dolphins in the water. Let him take his pictures, you thought.

 Twenty minutes later you were sitting at the side of the boat with your legs dangling over the edge enjoying the breeze, sun, and tranquility being on the ocean brought. There was something so serene about being in the middle of a giant body of water with creatures of plenty underneath its depths while there was nothing in sight for miles and miles. It was peaceful. The pictures you took of the horizon, the sky, and the water were breathtaking. You knew they’d make great printouts to add to your walls when you returned home. When you realized your battery was running low, you dug into your bag for one of your four fully charged portable chargers and slipped your phone into one of the many waterproof pouches you had your belongings secured inside.

 Your sister liked to make fun of you for how well you prepared for things. When you went out for every day, your purse contained every possible thing you would and could need for the day. You didn’t like being unprepared for whatever you came across and that included something as minor as rain all the way to the major things like abductions. You’d been the butt of many jokes but you didn’t care.

 Glancing to the other side of the yacht, you watched as Chris followed the instruction of Harper as he practiced a variety of sailor’s knots. It didn’t look like he was a novice though. You could tell he’d done it a few times before. Sooner than you could look away, Harper caught you then motioned you over. It would have been rude to ignore him, so you walked over to them and sat before them.

 “Here, try your hand at sailor’s knots,” Chris suggested holding out a length of rope to you.

 “It’s not as easy as it looks,” he followed up as you took it.

 “You look like you’ve done it before.”

 “Once or twice,” he replied.

 You studied the knots surrounding Chris for a few moments then took a stab at it. From the beginning you messed it up but didn’t quit, instead, you undid it and tried again. You didn’t quit easy. That was probably why you were in your current relationship predicament. A few minutes and several failed attempts later, you held up the finished product that looked identical to Chris’s.

 “So you have one of those brains where you can see something and replicate it?”

 You scoffed and shrugged. “Kind of. I just pick some things up quickly.”

 Chris nodded and held out another length of rope and pointed to a different pattern. “Try this one.”

 You knew it was a test. You grabbed the rope and studied the new pattern that was a lot more intricate than the first. Though it was more intricate it took you a shorter amount of time to start. When you held it up for them to see, less time had passed and you hadn’t made one mistake.

 “Wow,” Harper exclaimed before he chuckled.

 “What can I say, I’m pretty amazing,” you joked.

 Both men laughed but didn’t debate the fact.

 “We’re coming up on the cove that gives me the best fish. Of course, we’re catching and releasing, but it won’t dampen the experience,” Harper informed.

 Within a few short minutes, Harper had pulled up to one of the most beautiful coves you’d ever seen. The water was aquamarine crystal blue. It was so crystal like you could see several feet into it. The giant rocks that created a maze had moss growing off the tops of them that were lush green and created a nice contrast of colors. If you could have picked up this view and brought it home with you, you would have. It was that breathtaking.  

 You weren’t the only one thinking it, Chris was a few feet away snapping every picture he could get, only he didn’t look like a tourist. He looked like a professional travel photographer. When he dropped to one of his knees to get a different angle you just leaned against the railing and watched. The sun beaming down on him gave his hair a reddish hue which looked good on him. It even accentuated the freckles peppered along his arms. You remembered what was under that shirt of his at that second. You remembered the muscles, the hair, and the tats. It was an unexpected sight but one that you wouldn’t mind seeing again. Instantly you kissed your teeth and slapped your forehead.

 “Cut it out.”

 “Did you say something?”

 Chris was looking at you with a quizzical expression with his camera still posed up.

 “Nope, nothing.”

 He didn’t look like he believed you, but slowly he went back to snapping his pictures while you tried to create even more distance between you.

 “Get a grip, Ajali. It hasn’t been that long. You’re not affection starved either. Get—a—grip.”

 You took a few slow breathes and focused on the scene before you. You now understood why many people said this island was a top destination for vacations.

 “And we’re ready. You both said you’ve fished before, right?”

 You walked toward Harper’s voice then saw he had fishing rods, buckets, gloves, and all the other supplies lying at his feet.

 “I’ve done some fishing,” Chris offered before both sets of eyes landed on you.

 “Never.”

 “It’s not hard, I promise,” Harper assured bending for the rods. He held one out to Chris and the other to you.

 “Thank you.”

 “I’ll explain everything and its function. If either of you have any questions let me know.”

 Harper walked a few feet away leading the two of you to a shaded portion of the yacht. Once there, he explained everything in detail. He showed the parts of the rod, showed how to put things together, explained their function, and then went on to the different kinds of bait that were available. When he began demonstrating how to hold the rod and posture you paid close attention and imitated what he did. You knew though this was something that would take some getting used to.

 After twenty minutes, the three of you were in your spots ready to cast your rods. You watched Harper cast his first and it looked so fluid. You could tell he’d done this thousand of times. Then you watched Chris and though his movements weren’t as fluid, it looked like he was far from a beginner. You sighed and tried your best. The rod was heavy in your hands and affected your ability to control it and cast it perfectly. Glancing at Harper, he shrugged.

 “Good enough. You got it where it needs to go.”

 A soft chuckle escaped both you and Chris.

 “What kind of catch do you get out here?”

 Harper proceeded to explain the different kinds of fish he’d caught to Chris while you partially zoned them out. It didn’t take long for you to understand why people liked fishing. It was calming. You could leisurely do it while letting your mind drift and worries float away. Thirty minutes later it was your line that tugged first. You yelped then squeaked as you panicked.

 “What do I do?”

 “Reel it in,” Harper said.

 The resistance on the line was giving you a good arm workout. The struggle went back and forth. You doubted this was a baby.

 “This thing is strong.”

 “You got it, put your back into it like Ice Cube,” Chris teased making you narrow your eyes at him. That only made him laugh loudly.

 A few more moments of struggle persisted until you’d yanked the rod backward tucking it out of the water, over your head, and flopping the fish right on the deck.

 “Aaaah, oh my god! I caught a fish!”

 You jumped up and down excited by your success. Forgetting any prior slights you jumped closer to Chris and bumped shoulders with him.

 “I did it!”

 “You did.”

 “Good job. This here is a Barracuda,” Harper announced.

 “Ooooh Barracuda,” you and Chris said in unison like the song. The two of you giggled together before returning your attention to Harper.

 “It’s not an adult, but it’s no baby either. You want a picture?”

 “Yes!”

 You scurried to your bag and pulled out your phone then handed it to Chris before you dropped down to your knees and bent to the fish still flopping on the deck and smiled as you’d just won the lotto. Chris laughed and took the picture a few moments later. After the first few shots, you changed poses and let him take a few more. You watched as Chris’s face went from wide smiles to solemn confusion. Just as you were going to ask if your battery died, Harper spoke.

 “Do you want to do the honors of releasing it?”

 “You mean touch it?”

 Harper nodded and you ardently shook your head. “No thank you. I hear Barracudas like to bite.”

 Harper laughed at you as he effortlessly grabbed the fish by its tail then chucked it back into the ocean.

 “It was just an adolescent.”

 Chris held your phone out then walked back to his rod without a word. Slight confusion washed over you as you glanced at your screen to see one of the pictures he’d just taken, but your battery was fully charged.

 For the next few hours Chris barely spoke to you, but when you glanced over to him, his eyes were always on you before he looked away once yours met his. It was a complete turnaround from before. It shouldn’t have bothered or affect you at all considering the reality of things, but it did bother you a little bit. Once the three of you had had your fill of catch and release the sun was beginning to disappear. Harper caught a huge Mahi Mahi, scaled and fillet it right in front of you, and Chris showing off his impressive knife skills. He then took the fish to prepare what he promised would be the best open ocean fish you’d ever had. You were excited to see the finished product.

 Once Harper had disappeared down below you walked to the cooler, took out two beers, and walked over to Chris. He was sitting toward the back of the yacht watching the rocks in silence. You sat beside him, held out the beer, and waited for him to accept it. When he took it, he wasted no time twisting off the top and taking a mouthful. You sat there in silence looking over the view.

“Who knew a celebrity could fish.”

 “I’m not a celebrity all day every day. I have hobbies and free time.”

 “I take it fishing is a hobby?”

 “When I can get to it. Sometimes I can’t go off the grid to do it.”

 You nodded and tried to picture him at a lake with a rod and bucket of bait catching fish. A soft smile spread across your face before you gulped your beer.

 “What’s one of your hobbies?”

 Taking a deep breath you slowly released it. “Painting.”

 “You’re artistic?”

 “Depends what you call artistic. I can slap some paint on a canvas and call it a day.”

 Chris looked at you for a few moments. “Somehow I find it hard to believe it’s as lowkey as you’re describing. I bet you’re a modern-day Frida Kahlo.”

 You smiled and shrugged. “I wouldn’t go that far.”

 Silence spread between you again and the two of you sipped from your bottles. It was a semi-comfortable silence.

 “Are you departing tomorrow or staying on?”

 You wanted to ask why he wanted to know but decided against it. “Staying on.”

 Chris nodded. “Me too.”

 Neither of you spoke again, instead, you watched the sky as the sun slowly began its descent behind the water. When Harper returned, the air filled with such a delicious scent that your belly grumbled loudly.

 “And dinner is served. Harper placed the platter down on the table and you and Chris walked over to it. Your jaw dropped in amazement.

 “What kind of kitchen do you have down there that can produce that?”

 “I’ve had tons of practice.”

 The Mahi Mahi that was alive less than two hours ago was now cooked to perfection and decorated with papaya, and a green salad.

 “Wow, this looks mouthwatering,” Chris complimented.

 “It’s nothing fancy, just some fish with a papaya and seaweed salad.”

 “Seaweed salad? Oh wow. You utilize everything huh.”

 “Absolutely. I can tell you more about using everything you can to not only survive but make good food,” Harper said motioning you both to sit down.

 “No one is serving you here, help yourselves there’s plenty.”

 The three of you dug in taking portions of fish and salad. When you took a bite of the Mahi Mahi your eyes rolled to the back of your head. “Oh my god. This is so good.”

 “All it needed was some salt, pepper, and lemon. Sometimes keeping it simple is the best way.”

 Chris moaned and nodded in agreement with you. “Delicious.”

 As the three of you ate, Harper told you all about his travels and time living on his own on the ocean and how he’d learned to survive on little to nothing. It was so interesting to hear his story. From it, you gathered he was determined, creative, meticulous, and persevering. He didn’t let anything stop him and because of that mindset, he said he’d seen a lot of wonderful things and had a beautiful life. Listening to him speak about his loves and losses and how it was just him in the end you couldn’t help but think about your relationships.

 When he began listing off the life lessons he’d learned you made note of each and every one of them. You always thought the stories of the older generations were interesting. While most of their experiences were relatable, a lot of it wasn’t because of the difference in eras. In Harper’s era being a bachelor past twenty-two was seen as taboo, yet that was the life he lived. When he spoke of when he did get married, it was to the one woman he’d loved since he was twenty years old. The woman he’d been stupid about and missed out on two times. From the way he spoke about her, you knew she was his soul mate.

 Glancing to Chris who was sitting diagonally from you, part of you wondered how relatable Harper’s experiences were to him. You thought back to the very few tabloid and gossip stories you’d read about him but nothing jumped out to you. The tabloids didn’t focus on one woman that he was possibly seeing, they didn’t highlight any crazy behaviors with any of them or even highlight breakups. That was part of how you’d pieced him together. The lack of information left for such a wide breadth of possibilities to put together.

 “Take it from me young ones, when you’re walking down a dimly lit street of soft lights, and you happen to find that anomaly among the sea that shines a different light and makes everything else pale in comparison you do whatever it takes to hold on to that. You fight for it and don’t let anything or anyone make you miss out on it. None of us are here for a long time. One day I’ll join my Angie and we’ll be together again. I welcome that day, until then I’ll keep drifting.”

 The three of you sat there in silence, each of you lost in your thoughts and worries. Was Javii that anomaly or was he part of the sea and you’d been mistaken this whole time? When Harper returned to the helm to captain you back toward land you were secluded from the rest of them and still lost in your thoughts. It had been days since you left and you’d figured out nothing. If anything, you’d added more to your plate to think about. This was what you hadn’t wanted to do and that was the reason you chose this option rather than staying in the city.

 You began to wonder again about the person who would be that anomaly that Harper spoke of. Rather than thinking of your experiences with Javii, your irresponsible mind thought of your run-ins with Chris. When you’d seen him in passing before boarding the ship you’d noticed him in the sea of people and amidst every chaotic thing happening around you. Your brain singled him out. It did it again when you saw him in passing topside when you’d met Genevieve and in the lounge club. It was something you hadn’t focused on before but now it was all you could think of.

 “Get a freaking grip, Ajali!”

 You smacked your head and dropped it down hunching over to hug your shins. Suddenly, you felt raindrops and those drops quickly turned into a waterfall.

 “What the--,” you began holding your hands out confused how a downpour like this could just suddenly start.  

 Unexpectedly, the ship lurched hard to the left sending items on the deck toppling over including your beer bottle and the empty ones around it. Thinking quickly, you grabbed the railing to not tumble. Your grip was precarious thanks to the downpour and you knew you wouldn’t be able to hold on for long. Just as you were losing your grip, that was when the ship lurched again only this time to the right. With no time to grab for the railing, you tumbled over but before you hit the deck arms wrapped around you stabilizing you.

 “I got you.”

 Glancing up, you found Chris with rainwater pouring down his face and beard. He was holding on tightly to one of the metal poles while holding you tightly in his other arm. When the rocking went from deadly to manageable, Chris slowly let you go.

 “Something must be wrong. Let’s go.”

 Both of you took off on the search to find Harper. Every few seconds the rocking of the ship made items fall and roll. Chris was the one to pull you in every which direction to help you avoid the bigger items. When the ship bucked back you both slid back.

 “Aaah, fuck!”

 A sharp slice caught you off guard making you fall to the deck. Before Chris could react the boat rocked again sending you rolling back a few feet. When you slammed into one of the walls you shouted out in pain. Seconds later Chris was bent before you.

 “Are you okay?”

 His eyes quickly scanned your body and found your bleeding foot.

 “Oh god.

 Chris quickly pulled off his tropical printed shirt, ripped it, and began wrapping your foot.

 “I’m sorry I have to do this tight to hopefully slow the bleeding,” Chris informed before he yanked the material, knotting it tightly around your injury. You tried to stifle your groan but it didn’t work. Your shout echoed across the open water and carried it competing with the downpour from the sky.

 “I’m sorry. Ready to keep going? We’re almost there.”

 You nodded and let Chris help you up. With his arm around your waist and yours draped over his shoulder the two of you hurried to the small enclosure where Harper was steering the boat. Every so often thanks to the falling and rolling items you and Chris looked like circus performers, jumping, dodging, and sliding out of harm's way. The way Chris managed to go into protector and alpha mode had you seeing a new side to him. Women did love a man who could take charge.

 When you finally made it you found Harper passed out on the floor.

 “Oh my god!”

 Chris placed you along one of the windows so you could lean against it before he dropped down to his knees to check for a pulse. The longer it took him to turn to you, the more anxious you became.

 “He has a pulse, but it’s thready. Looks like he may have hit his head,” Chris informed before he ripped the while men’s tank he wore at the hem and pressed it to Harper’s forehead.

 On impact, Harper groaned then bolted up.

 “Hey, take it easy,” Chris shouted trying to compete with the loudness of the ocean and the rain.

 “No. Storm. We’re in a storm. We call these pop-ups. They happen all the time,” Harper explained as Chris helped him to his feet.

 “If you knew it was coming--,” you began.

 “I didn’t. No one can predict these and they’re increasingly more dangerous.”

 The yacht whipped as if it were a leash sending all three of you knocking into whatever was closest. Immediately the pain that whisked through you had you screaming. That was the first time you thought you were going to die. All you could feel was pain, all you could hear was the sound of your heart beating. You slowly opened your eyes but couldn’t make anything out through the haziness. You couldn’t pinpoint where the pain in your body was coming from, it felt like it was everywhere.

 “Ajali!”

 Snapping your eyes open you saw Chris’s drenched and concerned face before you. “Open your eyes. Stay with me!”

 It was a forceful command. One that you slowly obeyed. He helped you to a sitting position then turned back to Harper who was trying to stand to look over the built-in equipment of the ship.

 “We’re way off course here. Somehow this storm has put us way off route. It makes no sense.”

 “What does that mean?!”

 “It means we’re drifting and not towards the islands. We’re drifting away.”

 “What!”

 Harper tried to turn the key for the engine but it stalled then sputtered. He tried it again and again but the result was the same.

 “This is bad,” Harper added.

 “What do we do?”

 The ship rocked again but this tilt was so drastically different. It actually went so far on its side that it felt like you were going to capsize.

 “We’re gonna tip over!”

 Chris ran from the small room fighting against gravity’s pull to yank him over. Your first thought was he was leaving you.

 “Hang on tight!”

 Your scream was so loud you doubt you’d ever gone that high before. Terror gripped your heart and your entire life flashed before your eyes. You were certain you were done for. There was no way to make it out of this. You began mumbling but you didn’t know if what you said made any sense. A few seconds later, the ship dropped back into the water allowing you to remain top side up. You felt hands on your body and you opened your eyes to Chris shoving your arms in a bright orange life vest.

 “I could only find one right now so it’s yours.”

 “What—what about you?”

 “I’ll be fine. Hold on tight.”

 He spun around looking at Harper.

 “I have to get below.”

 Harper hurried out without another word and Chris turned back to you.

 “I’m going to help him. Stay here.”

 He made a move to leave and you grabbed his hand pulling him back to you.

 “Don’t leave me.”

 “I’m not. I’m going below with Harper. I’m sure he’ll need my help. I think it’s safer for you up here.”

 You still held tight to his hand fear controlling your movements. Chris’s expression softened before he took a step close to you to hold you at the side of your neck to the base of your skull.

 “I swear to you I won’t leave you, no matter what. We’re in this together. I will be back and we’ll laugh about this one day. For that day to come though we have to get through this and I have to help him down below. You’ll be safe. Hold on tight, stay low.”

 You nodded and took a few breathes trying to psych yourself up.

 “You got this,” Chris said before he pulled away and walked from you.

 You closed your eyes and said a silent prayer hoping for him to come back and that his words weren’t bullshit.

 The seconds seemed to slowly tick by and the minutes went on for lifetimes. Every jolt of the ship leveled you to a whimpering mess. You did just as Chris has instructed—kept low and held on for dear life. You didn’t care how numb your hand became from gripping the cold metal for so long you kept holding on. You didn’t care how cold you got from not only the ocean water but the rain and the strong wind gusts, you remained in your corner shivering refusing to come out. It didn’t matter how much the pain you felt intensified the colder you got you ignored it and kept whispering your silent prayers. You didn’t want to die. Not like this.

 You heard something like a loud crack then the groaning of metal then the ship once again tilted. You screeched and tried to hold yourself to the railing but the further the boat tilted the harder it was to hold on.

 “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!”

 You screamed again and braced yourself to end up in the water under the boat, but instead of it tipping it once again dropped back onto the water’s surface.

 “Oh my god!”

 “Ajali, can you hear me?”

 You whipped your head around trying to find where the voice was coming from without letting go of the railing. You were too scared.

 “Ajali. Can you hear me!”

 On the dashboard, you saw a red light flashing and guessed it was the radio. The only problem was for you to get to it, you’d have to let go and walk over to it. If the yacht tilted again you’d slid your ass out the room and off the boat. It was a risk.

 “Ajali, pick up. We’re down here trying to fix the engine but we need you to turn her on for us. Can you do that?”

 “Fuck!”

 You slowly stood, fighting against your aching joints, bones, and muscles, and stood upright with most of your weight on your uninjured foot. You assessed the distance from where you were to the dashboard and knew slow and steady was the best way but you doubted you had that time. You took a deep breath and took three hops on your good foot toward the dashboard. When there was just one hop left to take the vessel rocked sending you off balance and smack dab into the glass with your face.

 At this point, there was no part of your body that wasn’t in pain. A metallic irony taste filled your mouth and you knew you were bleeding. You had no idea from where though, your face was completely numb.

 “Ajali!?”

 Using the back of one hand, you wiped across your mouth and took another deep breath, and hopped to the dashboard throwing yourself across it and holding it for dear life. You took a few moments to calm yourself then grabbed the walkie.

 “I’m here.”

 You heard Chris exhale as if he was relieved. “Thank god, I thought something happened.”

 “I’m fine,” you lied while trying to wipe away the blood that dripped across the dashboard.

 “Try to turn the engine on.”

 You twisted the designated key all that happened was a long exaggerated sputter then hiss.

 “This time keep it turned don’t release it,” Chris suggested.

 Doing as you were told, you waited and begged the engine to cooperate. When you heard a yell over the walkie you knew it wasn’t good.

 “Damn it! There’s water in the engine. The only way to even begin to work on it is for it to dry out. That’s gonna be impossible during a storm. It’ll just keep flooding. We’re not moving. Damn it!”

 There was a full range of banging over the walkie that only made you panic more.

 “Can everyone not fall apart right now? Please. I’m terrified enough as it is,” you pleaded.

 “Listen to my voice, it’s okay. We’re coming back up. We just have to weather the storm,” Chris said. His voice sounded like he was panicking but was also trying to showcase calm. You heard both.

 Another loud crack echoed but it wasn’t on your end, it was over the walkie.

 “What was that?”

 The sound rang out again and everything went dead silent over the walkie before a loud crash of something breaking echoed out. At that moment the ship lurched again only this time the groan of metal was so loud it made you shake from fear. Garbled speech went in and out over the walkie alarming you.

 “He—hello?”

 The only response you got was the walkie dying.

 “Hello? Hello?” You pressed buttons and turned switches not knowing what any of them did but hoping one of them brought communication back.  Nothing helped though.

 “Chris! Hello? Chris! Answer me goddamn it!”

 You threw the corded walkie and dropped your head down and wailed. There was no hope at all you thought.

 “I’m gonna die.”

 You cried, finally letting out the angst and terror you were feeling. There was nothing positive about your current situation. You were in the middle of the ocean, practically alone while a storm was raging around you. people went missing like this, people died like this. You were suddenly so tired. A wave of water brushed against your feet but you didn’t think anything of it. You almost couldn’t lift your head.

 “Ajali!”

 As you lifted your head you saw Chris racing toward you.

 “We have to get off this ship.”

 “What!”

 “The glass broke. We’re taking in water and sinking—fast!”

 Hearing those words you found the energy to rise. “What do we do? Where’s Harper?”

 “He’s lowering the life raft. Let’s go.”

 Chris wrapped his arm around your waist and helped you along. When you made it down the steps to the deck you saw that it was completely filled with water.

 “Oh my god.”

 “It’s all right, I have you.”

 He must have gotten tired of your hobbling because he scooped you up and hurried along treading through the now calf-level water.

 “You’re freezing cold,” Chris mumbled.

 “What are we gonna do?”

 Chris reached Harper who looked as if he’d been through hell. From one glance you could tell he was hurt.

 “Climb down first,” Harper said to you as Chris put you down.

 You flinched as the saltwater wreaked devastation on your injured foot.

 “I’m scared.”

 “I know. it’s expected, you’re human. I need you to work through that fear though and climb down into the raft,” Chris reasoned.

 You nodded and tried to get over not only the terror but also will your muscles to move through them being near frozen. You tried to move your legs in some coordination to climb over the railing but it was taking a bit of time on your own. Chris stepped closer and helped you to take the first step down the ladder. When your injured foot joined your other one it slipped and sent you down a few of them only stopping when you were able to get a grip on the metal.

 “Are you okay?”

 “I’m okay.”

 You slowly went down the remaining steps until you got to the last one and saw you’d need to jump off the railing to land in the raft. You took a few breathes, hoped that you made it in the raft and not in the ocean, and jumped. Landing on your back you couldn’t relax. It hit you that you were now in a life raft about to drift to god knows where. From above you heard the two men arguing back and forth over who should go next. When you saw Chris was the one climbing down the ladder you knew Harper had won.

 It didn’t take him nearly as long as it took you. A few seconds later he’d jumped in next to you. The strong scent of gas immediately hit you.

 “You smell like gas.”

 Chris smelled himself then his eyes widened and pointed back to the ship. The two of you looked up just in time to see Harper bringing back up the ladder.

 “What’re you doing? Come down!”

 “No can do brother. This here is my ship and a captain always goes down with his ship.”

 Your eyes widened in horror. He couldn’t be serious.

 “That’s not funny Harper. The gas is leaking, there is no saving it. It isn’t worth your life. Come on, there’s time for you to save yourself too,” Chris rebutted.

 “I’m long past saving,” Harper said lifting his shirt to show the large shard of glass that was sticking through his abdomen. It looked like it had gone right through him. You knew that if it were removed the chances of him living were zilch.

 “Oh my god,” you mewled before clamping your hand over your mouth to stifle the wail that followed.

 “Harper--,” Chris began but never finished.

 “I always knew I’d die on this ship and that’s all right. I’m at peace with it. If I get in that raft with you I’d be doing you a disservice. Sharks would be on your tail in no time.”

 Harper flung a pack over the railing into the raft.

 “I’ve already pre-packed all the emergency packs in the raft. They’re in the side compartments as well as underneath the zipped platform of the bottom. These are things you’ll need wherever you wash up.”

 Another bag followed the first and landed on the raft. “This one is some rations. Remember to conserve the water. You can survive without food longer than water.”

 You cried louder while using your hand to muffle as much of the sound as you could.

 “Come on man,” Chris pleaded.

 Four more bags followed including your backpack. By then you’d fully lost it and had ventured into a nervous breakdown.

 “Inside the raft, there is a transponder. I am going to set off the homing beacon on my ship it’ll give search and rescue some idea of where things went wrong. They’ll be able to follow the signal and rescue you no matter where you are.”

 Harper bent forward and groaned. He must have been in so much pain you thought to yourself. On its own, your hand gripped the ripped hem of Chris’s tank and held it tightly. Chris glanced back at you and you saw the same anguish you felt.

 “I’m sorry about this folks, I really am.” He paused and shook his head before he continued. “You have each other though.”

 An explosion shook the vessel and lit up the sky behind Harper.

“That’s my cue. Get outta here. I’ll do my part. Remember live your way, it makes death a peaceful conclusion.”

 With that Harper hobbled away holding the railing.

 “Go!”

 He disappeared from view leaving the two of you sitting in the raft, in the pouring rain heartbroken and terrified. Another explosion erupted and Chris sprang into motion yanking the cord that controlled the motor startup. He yanked it once, then twice until it sparked alive on the third try. You both looked to the ship unsure what to do. The decision had been made for you, there was nothing either of you could do but go.

 Slowly the raft began to drift away from the sinking ship and neither of you could peel your eyes away. Two more explosions boomed and then Harper’s voice echoed out.

 “I’m coming, Angie!”

 “Oh my god,” you whispered dropping your head to the surface of the raft. Your cry was loud and showcased the tragic sadness before you.

 You watched on before another and final grand explosion ripped the ship apart sending parts every which way.

“Fuck!”

 Chris leapt for you throwing his body over yours using himself as a shield to protect you. The sound of flying metal around you only made you scream more and more. Still, Chris didn’t come off of you, he kept his body over yours while maneuvering the rod steering of the raft. After the sound of flying metal subsided and the warmth of fire died down Chris rolled off of you. There was nothing to be seen except the fire from the explosion that was quickly being extinguished as the rest of the ship sank to the depths of the ocean.

 “Oh my god, Harper.”

 “God,” Chris groaned out, dropping his head down. “Rest in peace.”

 There it was. Death. It was staring you right in the face and you feared it hadn’t had its fill quite yet. Your sobs returned and soon they were the only sounds traveling across the water, along with the motor. Neither of you spoke for a few minutes as you both tried to digest everything that had just happened and how everything had gone so wrong.

 “What’re we going to do?”

 It was a question asked just above a whisper. A question that held so much uncertainty, a question that also brought so much fear with it. What were you going to do?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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[fictionfeast]

Sasuke kind of loves where Naruto lives, though he isn’t quite sure why.

He likes the smell of salt by the sea when they open the window, and he likes how Naruto looks outside on the shoreline, wind in his hair and water at his feet. He likes how Naruto looks at home, even when a storm rages, he’s always right where he belongs. He likes the cozy feeling of the Uzumaki household, it’s just a house on a small island, where Naruto knows all the local shop owner’s, wearing them down with barter, but they still always smile at him when he walks through the door.

Sasuke desperately wants to kiss him.

“Whatcha thinkin’ about?” Naruto jumps onto his bed, where Sasuke is half-laying against his headboard, schoolwork open on his lap.

Sasuke raises his eyebrows, as if he would reveal that information out loud in actual words. He and Naruto were currently caught in something. It felt inevitable, like they’d been caught in things before.

“If you purposely have terrible perminship to cover up your logs,” Sasuke proposes instead.

Naruto squints at him, clearly not buying it.

“I’m not gonna get caught.” Something a little mischievous appears in those ocean blue eyes. “Sweet of you though, to worry about me.”

His gaze turns a little more searching, and Sasuke always feels a particular way, when Naruto looks like that. Sasuke doesn’t personally think his thoughts are all that different from anyone else’s, but sometimes, it feels like Naruto wants to know every single one, like he’s never had access before, like he has to soak up everything he can, before it’s gone. It makes Sasuke’s chest hurt, and if anyone were to ask, he could never justify why.

Naruto asks again. “What were you really thinking about?”

It’s a nudge. Sasuke doesn’t know why Naruto does that — uses that careful, more gentle tone — except that maybe he worries about overstepping. Maybe he’s worried that Sasuke was thinking about his father’s recent death, and just hadn’t wanted to say so out loud.

“I like where you live,” Sasuke gives.

There’s a small release of tension in Naruto, and Sasuke watches it fall away under that hideously patterned orange shirt. Naruto has an attachment to a specific color scheme that must go back lifetimes for how stubbornly he clings to it. Sasuke has tried to sway him from it to no avail, and it’s easier to think about that, rather than what if he gives the answer Naruto is so scared of. He’s not quite sure what it is, or how to prevent it; he’s not sure he could guess it, even if he tried.

“Guess it can be hard, moving around so much,” Naruto offers, by leeway of giving room for Sasuke to expand.

“I don’t mind it,” Sasuke says and he means it. Though, he hesitates, gaze lifting. “I just... like it a little more here.”

It costs him to say these things, sometimes, like a lump caught in his throat, but it’s always worth it when he can manage.

Naruto’s smile is immediate, small and knowing. “Are you trying to say something, Uchiha?”

Sasuke can’t run from that challenge. Naruto is already moving in any case, there’s no time to even consider running, as he shifts over Sasuke to lean down, as Sasuke’s arms curl up and around—

Sasuke freezes. “Naruto,” he says.

Kushina looms over them, tapping a frying pan against her hand like a baseball bat. Naruto pauses at Sasuke’s pause, catching on and following where Sasuke’s eyes are looking, and turns to—

Scramble for his life.

He makes it to the edge of the bed, before Kushina has pulled off his jacket, which Naruto quickly twists and sheds, but unfortunately, not everyone is blessed with grace, as Kushina yanks on the sleeve just in time to offset his balance, sending him to the floor with a yelp. Flat on his back, Naruto holds his hands up in surrender, and laughs the most sheepish, red-handed laugh that Sasuke has ever heard. It threatens a small smile at his lips, but Sasuke isn’t idiotic enough to piss off Naruto’s mother.

“Naruto!” Kushina raises her voice, standing over him. “What did I say about leaving the door open when Sasuke is over!”

“It’s not like that, Ma, really—”

“It’s a little like that,” Sasuke corrects, because what? He values honesty. His job is to make Naruto’s parents like him, not to take the heat.

Naruto throws him a look of betrayal, and his eyes narrow even further when they notice the tiny quirk in Sasuke’s mouth. Sasuke refuses to take the bait, raising his eyebrows with false innocence. Naruto needs to get in trouble once in a while. Otherwise, he’ll get caught for the things he should actually get in trouble for.

“Door open,” Kushina growls. “I won’t allow my son to be a delinquent, yanno!”

Naruto nods with such enthusiastic agreement, a bobblehead would be jealous. Satisfied, she turns to Sasuke and smiles. “Nice to see you again, Sasuke. Say hi to your mom for me when you go home before your curfew. No more sneaking through my obedient’s son’s window, okay?”

Saskue nods, politely. He likes Naruto’s mother. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, and all that.

Though, he does appreciate her for what she did for his mom. Since Kushina suggested she come back to her hometown after the funeral, his mom has been doing better. It’s been strange, to see his mom function in a completely different element, where the shopkeepers talk about her and Kushina getting in trouble together as little girls. Before coming to the island, he didn’t even know his mother had friends.

It’s been... nice.

Kushina takes her frying pan and her leave. Naruto groans, sitting back up.

“I hadn’t even kissed you yet,” he complains. “She has some freakish sixth sense.”

“Well, you are a delinquent.” Sasuke plays devil’s advocate. “And I did crawl through your window.”

It’s difficult to find alone time on a small island, especially on a small island where the guy you keep trying to make out with knows everyone, and while his own mom is a little more... laid back than Naruto’s, at least in terms of open doors, Sasuke doesn’t want to cause her any trouble right now. He thinks Naruto inherently understands this, because he never suggests his house.

“Who’s side are you on?” Naruto huffs. “And I dunno what you think you’ve pieced together, but I’m not a delinquent.”

It’s almost a mutter, and Sauke gets the impression that he’s not a delinquent, but he is something. Sasuke watches Naruto stand back up, eyeing the door where his mom left, like he’s seriously considering bolting it shut, while Sasuke contemplates on revealing what he has pieced together. It just seems pointless when he’s relatively certain Naruto won’t tell him the rest, if not to protect whatever he’s involved in, then to protect Sasuke’s deniability if he ever does get caught.

“Smuggling—” That’s all Sasuke gets out before Naruto is tackling him and clamping a hand over his mouth.

The clock ticks as Naruto watches the door like prey waiting in the brush, holding its final breaths. When there’s no sign of either of his parents, he turns back to Sasuke with a firm look of warning, before removing his hand.

“Are you trying to give me a heart attack? Is that it?” Naruto asks. “A stroke, an aneurysm?”

“I was aiming for brain aneurysm, actually, until I remembered you need a brain for that,” Sasuke points out with a smug smirk that he knows will drive Naruto up the wall.

He enjoys watching Naruto’s hackles rise.

“Just because you—Ugh,” Naruto eloquently voices, like he might start pulling on his hair. Sasuke quirks an eyebrow in encouragement, that may or may not be a trap. He wants to know the truth. If he’s reached the correct conclusion about Naruto’s spare time activity. “It’s not something you want to be involved in, okay? Why can’t you just drop it already?”

There’s a desperate note in Naruto’s voice, an askance for Sasuke to stop. Out of worry. Out of concern. But that’s why he can’t drop it. Why the hell does Naruto always sound like that?

“Are you in some sort of trouble?” Sasuke finds himself asking, and the backlash is immediate. Not from Naruto. Naruto just blinks at him, looking vaguely startled at Sasuke’s flinch, and then just confused. The internal backlash strikes with enough ferocity for everyone involved. He’s showing too many cards. He knows he is, and he can see the rigidity of his father’s face, too soft, those eyes said, too emotional, and Itachi’s quiet agreeance, it’s better this way.

Sasuke pushes at Naruto’s chest, telling him to get off without words. “Curfew is in a few—”

“No, Sasuke.” Naruto grabs his wrist, halting movement. Sasuke refuses to look at him, too open, too exposed. “No.”

Words can’t find their way out of his mouth, so he stays silent. The salt in the air suddenly feels far too thick.

“It’s not like that,” Naruto reassures, quickly. He lets go of Sasuke’s wrist, leaning back onto his own thighs to give them room. Sasuke studies a spot on the wall, until Naruto’s apparent distress draws his eyes back over, watching him push a hand through blond hair. Those frustrated blue eyes have taken partial to the wall too. “It’s... complicated.”

Sasuke observes the frown in his mouth. He’s already shown his cards. It’s too late to take it back.

Maybe it’s an argument worth committing to. It’s a foreign concept to Sasuke outside of his family. He hasn’t had many friends in his life, and even those he would consider friends, he’s never found much of a point in fighting. If they want to be stupid, then they can be stupid. Sasuke is hardly domestic enough to start little arguments. He can remove himself if he doesn’t want to be involved. Until now, apparently.

He cares if Naruto is stupid.

“Complicated sounds dangerous,” Sasuke tests. “You’re not denying it’s dangerous.”

Naruto’s mouth thins. His eyes refuse to come back to Sasuke, and Sasuke knows what it means. Naruto isn’t willing to argue.

He’s not willing to talk about it.

Sasuke waits, carefully, for what feels like several stabbing heartbeats. Naruto probably regrets it — the first time he took Sasuke out on his boat, gifted to him on his sixteenth birthday, two years ago. Traveling by boat was the only way to get to the mainland, and Kushina made Naruto his official guide when he and his mom first arrived, to both of their horrors.

He and Naruto incidentally met the day before at school, eleven kids to a grade. It would be hard to miss each other.

Naruto took him out anyway, and they grumbled and bickered for a majority of it, and they’d ended the night with Choji’s famous Kraken Skewers. Sasuke isn’t the biggest fan of squid, but he ate it anyway, after being convinced by Naruto that it was a crime against humanity not to try it.

On their way back, growing comfortable around Naruto at an unusual rate, he started poking around and noticed the logs. His memory has always been pristine, and he knew there were more crates underneath the deck than what it said on his logs. Naruto played it off, I crate over extra goods sometimes, Naruto admitted, caught and rubbing the back of his neck, there’s this girl...

Sasuke completely bought it, he didn’t even question it, in fact he immediately told Naruto he didn’t need to hear it. He’d been around enough guys his own age to know they were annoyingly obsessed with girls and Sasuke had no shared interest.

In hindsight, there’s a good chance Naruto had a hunch and wielded it as a weapon of redirection.

Given, the illusion was shattered when Naruto kissed him.

He probably wasn’t sneaking extra goods to a mainland girl, but it was a decent cover. Especially when the maritime patrol were mostly older men, who liked to reminisce in their testosterone riddled days as a teenager, or whatever the fuck. Sasuke wonders how many times that story worked, and how many different ones Naruto has told.

Sasuke began to notice more, how easily Naruto crawled in and out of his bedroom window, like he’d done it a thousand times, the bags under his eyes, the way he could anchor his boat in the dark, not a single light needed. Sasuke can tell apart Naruto’s real smiles and ones that meant something different, like he was sad, or just a little too tired of something heavier than this island could hold.

But Naruto thinks he can hold it. And he thinks he can do it alone.

Sasuke collects his study books and shoves them into his bag, sliding out from underneath Naruto and off the bed. Naruto still won’t look at him, hands resting on his knees, and mouth pinched.

“You know I’ll figure it out,” Sasuke says. It’s not a threat. It’s just the truth.

He pauses in Naruto’s doorway before leaving. He hesitates. He can’t help that he notices these things. One day, the pieces will fall into place, and it will all click together, whether he or Naruto wants it to or not.

“You should decide how you want that to happen.”

He doesn’t notice Naruto frown at the door when he walks out.

[beauty-and-passion]

Silly fun challenge prompt: what languages do you associate with the Sides/what would be the 2nd language each Side learn?

For example I am a big fan of Hispanic (Spanish speaking) Creativitwins fanon. And c! Thomas too could've learnt Spanish in high school and the fact his love interest is hispanic too just makes perfect sense-

And in contrast to Hispanic twins I headcanon Janus as a francophone (French speaking) for two reasons: 1) it was still lingua franca around Victorian era, his aesthetic inspiration and 2) dividing American high school by Spanish class vs. French class is like causing Civil War (I was and still am a language nerd, so I learnt both languages, which was a mistake but the kind of mistake that was worth it when you think about it later)

German suites Logan since lots of famous philosophers are German. I associate Japanese or Korean with Virgil since those two are really dominant in the current subculture world (and maybe our emo could've been inspired and turn into E-boy - wow that sounds terrifying)

I don't have strong preference on Patton's but Italian sounds nice, since all those music and dessert and anything sweet are often from Italy. And maybe 'Orange' can be some language that sounds harsh like Russian, so he can murmur in that in sleep and scares everyone else

I know you're in Europe: 1) you use GMT and 2) Americans wouldn't care about Eurovision. So I wonder how you would think based on your European experience!

Oooh, I like this! As European Who Studied Languages, I definitely approve this and I'll gladly add my two cents about which languages the sides should learn.

_________

Roman: He canonically knows Spanish and that's perfect like that. Spanish is a romantic language, someone speaks Spanish and you can't help but swoon. It’s a great choice for the Side responsible for romance and passion.

_________

Remus: Remus isn't just intrusive thoughts, but there’s a very high chance he’s also responsible for Thomas' sexual urges. So, what is the language made for sex? You’re right, it’s French. French is sexy. You can say anything in French and bam, ✨sexy ✨.

"Je sors la poubelle." Sexy, isn't it? Well, I just said "I'm taking out the trash". See? Very sexy.

(French people, please confirm my words. We all know it’s true)

_________

Janus: Your points are incredibly valid and I love them. But if we should choose among all languages, I would love Janus to be one of the very few (extremely few) people in the world who can speak Latin.

I know Latin is a dead language, but it would be great - and not just because of the connection with his name.

Let’s consider that the other Romance languages, despite evolving from Latin, cannot entirely understand it, because they all changed a lot through the centuries after mixing with the Germanic ones. On the other hand, the Germanic languages (English, German, Swedish and so on) are part of a completely different group, only slightly influenced by Latin, so they cannot understand it.

In other words, Janus would speak a language that only sounds familiar - and maybe you can grasp a couple words here and there if you know a romance language, but the true meaning is hidden. What is he actually saying? Who knows. Is he actually cursing someone? Who knows. After all, do you understand Latin? Yeah, me neither.

If I have to pick a language that is still spoken today instead, I think I'll join you with French. Your points are valid and French is a very elegant language, fitting for Janus’ whole aesthetic. So yes, French could work.

_________

Logan: German is a great choice and you are absolutely right with your point about the philosophers. Also German is a language of harsh sounds and strict grammar rules - for example:

declensions that should be used accordingly for articles, adjectives and nouns

specific verbs for specific meanings

words made by putting together shorter words (like Haustürschlüssel.  Haustür means “front door”, Schlüssel means “key” -> this word means “front door’s key”)

sentences that should follow a specific construction, with parts of the compound verb after the noun and part at the end of the sentence. And secondary phrases also have a specific syntax and should always be introduced by a comma

In other words, it's a very organized language and I think it would fit Logan.

But also, considering that almost all words related to science and philosophy come from Greek, I think Logan should at least understand some Greek. As a treat.

(Also because Greek is another incredibly complicated language, so if someone has the patience to learn it, it’s definitely Logan.)

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Virgil: oh my gosh, I never thought about an eastern language for Virgil. In a way, it would be a very peculiar choice and I kinda like it. Japanese and Korean are extremely complicated languages, they have a very specific alphabet (I'm especially thinking about the Japanese one, that even asks for a specific direction to write words) and require a lot of work (and memory) to learn them.

But Virgil is also a poet and when I think of poets and sonnets my first connection is with the french ennui, le mal du vivre and especially Baudelaire and his works. Virgil would appreciate Baudelaire a lot. So French, again.

But hey, there’s too much French now. So I’ll pick the other european literature full of sadness: the russian one.

Russian is supposed to be a big scary language and its alphabet is weird and omg what if they're cursing us? But if you learn it a little bit, you’ll find out that Russian has a lot of soft/open sounds (due to a good use of vowels) and it's very poetic.

So the language itself is a bit like Virgil: he seems scary and evil at a first glance, but if you learn about him, he's actually kinder than he looks.

But never underestimate Russian, because just like Anxiety, fear is just behind the corner: you start learning it and wow, there is just one present tense, one past tense and one future tense? This is great, what a wonderful language!

And then, before you’ll realize it, you will find out that each verb has a “doppelganger” used for entirely different purposes AND there a gazillion verbs of motion and you will end up crying on the floor, because there are just too many verbs - and look, there are also one trillion particles you can put before these verbs and they give them EVEN MORE MEANINGS.

No, this isn't entirely based on my personal experience, what makes you think that.

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Patton: I have never thought about Patton learning another language, because English just fits him too well.

But when you proposed Italian... well, my heart just wiped out everything else. There is nothing here, only Patton speaking Italian.

So yes, Patton's second language should be Italian. No, it must be Italian. Because French is the language of sex, Spanish is the language of love, but if you want to declare your eternal love to someone, you use Italian. Do you want to marry someone? Italian. Do you want to tell your significant other how much you adore them? Italian. Italian has one million ways to express love and Patton should use them all with his kiddos.

And yes, Italian is also associated with warm people, warm places and good food, all things Patton deserves and should enjoy. So Italian is a big yes.

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Orange: since Orange is a mystery, I am a bit torn between these two languages:

1) Esperanto: This language is amazing, because it isn’t a natural language, born like all others, but it has been built by a man, who wanted to create an universal language in order to foster world peace and international understanding.

So this language has been created to be as simple as possible, with a very regular grammar (unlike all other natural languages) and its words all have references to other language groups (romance, germanic, slavic, indo-europeans, finno-ugric languages and so on).

And if you actually listen to it (especially if you know some latin languages) you will find it weirdly understandable. I found this video in particular and I was impressed by how strangely familiar esperanto sounds.

And... that’s it, I just think it would be kinda poetic that the last side knows a language that all others can use and understand.

2) A Greenlandic language. Why? Because they are insanely polysynthetic.

What does that mean? If in German you can make words by putting together other two/three words (like in the example I used before), in the Greenlandic languages you can build an entire sentence by putting together nouns, verbs, articles and everything else. All together in one single word, whose meaning can be translated with an entire sentence in another language.

Do you want an example? Here is an example from Wikipedia: tuntussuqatarniksaitengqiggtuq.

Yes, this is a word.

This word is from the Yupik language and means "He had not yet said again that he was going to hunt reindeer.". And this word is made of:

tuntu- (= reindeer)

ssur-  (= hunt)

qatar- (future tense)

ni- (= say)

ksaite- (negative)

ngqiggte- (= again)

uq  (3rd.sing.IND)

Is this insane? This is fucking insane. Do you want to be scared? This is real fear. What the heck. How. Why.

You know what? This is perfect for Orange, I’ll leave Esperanto to Thomas. Orange deserves to be this scary. I can already see the other sides quiver before him.

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And so, here are my guesses! If someone has other ideas, feel free to add yours and tell us why, so we can all have a nice discussion :D