#trying to remember how to draw again now that my arm sort of works

[genikrispies]

the girl who'd been haunting your dreams all your life

[senseichaos]

Hey, can you have a Lucifer going down on a female reader until she’s completely over stimulated? Trying to push him away, him using his magic to keep her still that sorta think? TIA🤤

Your wish is my commannndddd!

IMAGINE

"Amh.. Luci s'.." Your words get swallowed up by another moan that goes through your body, legs trembling as Lucifer's hand keeps them open with a strong grip. A blush goes over your face when his eyes peek up at you as he works his tongue against your clit, circling the sensitive bud at a tantalizing pace that makes you go dizzy.

You pull your blanket to your face, lower lip trembling as the pleasure from Lucifer's tongue continues to go through you. Gasping, you feel Lucifer's tongue dip into your hole, the pleasure from the action causing you to squirm and whimper loudly in an embarrassed pleasure.

"Duckling.." you hear him mumble into you, the vibrations causing you to continue trembling. "It's not nice having you squirm when I'm treating you, hm? Remember this is a punishment," oh you remember all right. You'd accidentally ripped a hole in one of Lucifer's expensive shirts, he wasn't mad (he's never mad) but he was definitely looking for that opportunity to punish you all the same; his punishment was simple, he was going to eat you out as many times and make you cum as many times as he pleases.

So far, he is doing a fucking good job at doing just that.

"Sorry! It's just so dirty.."

He chuckles, the vibrations making your cunt clench around nothing.

"That's just how I like it, silly duck. Now stay still for me, hm?" He asks, and under his soft yet authoritative gaze nodding without any thought but his beautiful lips as they kiss against your clit.

as Lucifer laps his tongue against your clit whilst his fingers massage into your thighs, you feel your first high begin to tighten inside of you. Once again feeling your body tremble as you bite your lower lip, closing your eyes shut tightly whilst Lucifer puts his oral skills to good use. You press the sheets to your mouth, letting out a high pitched whimper when your thighs threaten to close around Lucifer's head. He doesn't allow it, though; he makes sure to keep your thighs open nice and wide for him even if that means using a large amount of force.

"Lucifer! Careful or m'!" You moan, the knot in your stomach itching to unravel your orgasm.

"Mhm?"

"M' gonna cum!" You cry, and Lucifer chuckles, nibbling his sharp teeth against your clit as his tongue draws circles against it. With that movement you are inched to your high, the knot inside of you unraveling so hard you squirt a little. But Lucifer doesn't stop, he continues to eat you up, taking what he wants from your choicest of fruits. He doesn't care that you squirted on his chin, he doesn't care that tears are beginning to fall down your cheeks, he continues to lap up all of you. He's determined to do as he chooses.

"Daddy! S'too much..!"

Lucifer laughs, sucking against your swollen clit for a moment before withdrawing, mouth pressed to your mount. "Well, you should have considered that before ripping Daddy's shirt, hm? Be a good duckling or I'll make you cum even more than I plan," He says, a sadistic glint in his eyes as he kicks a long strip against your entire pussy.

"But I'm gonna fall asleep.." you whine, holding the sheets of the bed to yourself tightly. You try to push him away, you really do! Even going as far as to shock him on the arm with your (weak) powers. Though, this all doesn't appease Lucifer. If anything it makes him more ravenous to eat all of what he can from your pussy. This all amounts to his own powers keeping you still, a throb of a sort of ache-y pain entering you.

"Well if you do, I guess I'll just keep going. I didn't teach you to resist punishments like this, little ducky.."

Once again, he dips his tongue into your hole, fucking his tongue into you for a moment before going back to teasing your clit. It just goes like that, he'll suck, bite, lick your clit and then fuck you open with your tongue.

You can't even begin to recall how many times you came. 5? 8? 10!!?? By the time you awoke your pussy felt moderately used. And yet it was all worth it when you awoke nestled against Lucifers chest, his light snores filling your ears.

(not proof read!)

[fastandcarlos]

End Of A Bad Day : ̗̀➛ Oscar Piastri

summary: oscar comes home to find you at the end of a tough day, determined to find a way to cheer you up

You were too engrossed in tidying up your office for the night that you hadn’t even heard Oscar calling through your apartment. Your tank was well and truly empty after the day that you’d had, sighing every couple of seconds as yet another thing didn’t seem to quite go your way, items toppling around you as you tried to get sorted.

In the doorway, Oscar hovered as he took in the sight before him. Straight away he could tell that you were far from fine, resting his head on the frame as a sympathetic smile graced his face. Once he’d read the situation Oscar stepped foot into the room, sneaking up behind you and tangling his arms around your waist. Your body tensed up in surprise, relaxing immediately as your head glanced back to see Oscar staring back at you, offering one of his warming smiles that always seemed to find a way to calm you down.

He stayed with you for a few moments, not saying a word, allowing you to find comfort in his embrace. Oscar rested his head on top of yours as he swayed you gently, turning you away from the mess that was still in front of you. You wanted to be angry, to rant and rave, but there was something about Oscar that just seemed to wash all of that away for you. He didn’t need to speak, he knew just holding you and letting you know that he was there was all that you needed, although the few kisses that he pressed against your neck were definitely gratefully received.

“Do I even need to ask?” Oscar whispered into your ear after a few seconds, continuing to sway you as his grip around your waist tightened.

Your head shook as you let go of a huff, feeling fingertips tickle your side to try and draw you out of your lull. You moved your hands to rest over Oscar’s, assuring him that you were alright as he tried his best to make you smile again.

“I get it,” he spoke, peering over your shoulder to get a better look at you. “It’s alright if you want to get upset, I’m here for you love.”

“It’s just been awful,” you sighed, spinning around so that your head was now resting on Oscar’s chest, the few tears that were falling dampening the material of Oscar’s shirt. His heart broke as he heard your cries from underneath him, finally beginning to realise just how tricky your day had been, the frustration finally surfacing and tipping over the edge.

“Anything I can do to help?” Oscar offered as one of his hands came up to brush through your hair, moving the strands away from your tears.

“I just can’t seem to do anything right recently,” you vented, tensing your body up again. “My boss is constantly on my case and I can’t stop thinking about work and where it’s going wrong. I can’t remember the last day I even sat down with you and actually asked you how your day was.”

“Don’t worry about me,” Oscar whispered, pressing a kiss to the top of your head, “I don’t need to tell you anything, I just want to know that you’re okay.”

“You don’t need to be dealing with me, I’m alright,” you lied.

“Babe, I know you better than that,” Oscar replied, “it’s my job to look after you, I’m your boyfriend. It’s your fault anyway for being so annoyingly cute, you make me want to care, in fact, it’s the best job in the world being able to care for you, love you, and be the one who always gets to cheer you up.”

“I reckon you might have a tricky job of that today,” you mumbled against Oscar’s chest.

“Hm, I’ve got an ace up my sleeve,” he chimed.

“W-what?” You stumbled as Oscar moved your hands so that they were around his neck, placing his securely around your waist.

“Dance with me,” Oscar proudly smiled, knowing how many times you’d desperately tried to get him to dance with you before, only for Oscar to vehemently decline.

Your head shook in disbelief, watching the concentration on Oscar’s face as he tried his best to count in his head to make sure that he was in time with you. He looked a fool, but he didn’t care, his plan didn’t take long to work. Soon enough you had a wide smile on your face, giggling away to yourself as you and Oscar spun around in your office, experiencing several near misses as you kept losing your balance and tripping over one another.

“I hate how good you are at this,” you laughed as your eyes met Oscar’s, taking in the pride in his expression.

“I’m just glad to see that beautiful smile again,” he mused, leaning forwards and pressing a gentle kiss against it.

“Fancy telling me about your day now?” You quizzed, surprised when Oscar shook his head in reply to you.

“I’m quite enjoying what we’re doing right now,” he responded, taking a hold of your hand, “although I think I might need a few more lessons for the future.”

“Why? What plans have you got to dance in the future?” You innocently asked, staring cluelessly at Oscar.

“Oh…you know, one day I might just have a first dance,” Oscar told you, hearing you gasp as you used the hand that he was holding to twirl you around underneath your own. It was a response you weren’t expecting, but as soon as Oscar said it, you felt your heart swell, glad you were twirling around so that Oscar couldn’t see the tint of red on your cheeks.

“Do you see us getting married one day?” You enquired once Oscar had you still again.

“I think about it every single day,” he opened up, again taking you by surprise. “There’s nothing more that I want than to one day be able to introduce you to people as my wife.”

“I never thought you’d think about these things.”

“It’s hard not to when I’ve got someone as incredible as you in my life,” Oscar confessed, “maybe we should dance a bit more often…it’s good practice, right?”

“I’d love nothing more,” you smiled, peppering a kiss to the tip of Oscar’s nose, “well, maybe I’d love being able to marry you someday just a little bit more.”

“It’ll the best day every, one day.”

˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

[4ragon]

Fic request: new relationship narumitsu, miles and phoenix have just begun living together and miles is reveling in it. Preferably miles pov!

IIIIIIII already got a bit off topic on this prompt but I hope you still like it.

It’s a strange day when Phoenix Wright wakes up first. At least, that’s Miles’s first thought upon opening his eyes to discover the bed empty.

He blinked slowly, rubbing an eye with a thumb as he squinted around the room. Even without his glasses it was clear he was alone, with nary a spike in sight. And, yes, even feeling Phoenix’s side of the bed (Phoenix’s side! What a thought.) the sheets had gone cold.

With a disgruntled grumble, Miles began feeling for his glasses on the bedside table.

It had been a month, so far. A month of their new home. A month of good night kisses, of waking in a tangle of limbs. Which, well, not that Miles exactly enjoyed new things. He was a creature of habit. He liked having his day planned out in advance, of knowing what each day would bring, no surprises.

…which of course begged the question of how he let Phoenix Wright into his life, but, well, now was not the time to think about that. Now was the time to become annoyed. 

After all, he’d already worked Phoenix Wright into his schedule, his morning routine. He’d worked hard to fit Phoenix into his daily habits. One: Wake up and pry the man off of him. (This of course adds five minutes to his usual schedule). Two: Feed Pess and let her out into the backyard to relieve herself. Three: Get the bathroom to himself (he had to time this perfectly. They’d had to work incredibly hard to find a bathroom schedule that got him, Phoenix and Trucy enough time to prepare.) Four: Dress, and then ply Phoenix with kisses until he agrees to move. (Another five minutes to his schedule. Phoenix was lucky Miles made time for him.)

It was precise. It was perfect. And now it was ruined.

Miles stepped out into the hallway and was immediately accosted with the smell of frying cholesterol. He blinked, brows drawing together as he glanced around. No one in sight. Even Pess’s dog bed was notably empty.

But when he stepped into the kitchen, everything was made abundantly clear.

“Alright, just one more,” Phoenix grumbled, tearing a piece of bacon off for a trembling Pess. “But we do not tell anyone about this, got it?”

“Wright!”

“ACK!” Phoenix jumped, the rest of the bacon slipping from his grasp and promptly disappearing in a flash of white fur and teeth.

“What on earth are you doing?” Miles asked, arms crossed as Phoenix looked over sheepishly.

“Morning, Miles,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “You’re up early.”

“I’m up early?! I am up at my usual time, thank you very much.”

“...Ah,” said Phoenix, looking toward the clock. “So you are.”

A huff. “Really, Wright, what are you doing attempting to clog my dog’s arteries at six thirty in the—”

“Happy Valentine’s Day.”

“Hmm?” And there was a plate being shoved into his hands.

“Here,” Phoenix said. “It’s not much, I, uh, okay I kind of forgot this was coming up, but I had enough to sort of scrounge up something edible. Though don’t judge me on the pancakes, I was trying to make hearts.”

He stared down at the plate. Some misshapen pancakes and bacon stared back. “...Wright…”

“Can you please call me Phoenix?” Phoenix groaned back. “We’re dating, remember? Or did you forget?”

“Forg—That—I—Excuse me?!”

Phoenix laughed. “Don’t look so offended,” he snorted, leaning over and pressing a kiss against the corner of his mouth. “Anyway, can you pull out the spray butter and some forks? I forgot.”

Miles glanced down at the plate again. There was something warm in his chest, something fond and exasperated all at once. Only Phoenix Wright could make a break in routine sound so…nice. A small smile tugged at his lips.

“Fine. But we are using real butter, not that monstrosity you keep buying from the store.”

“Miles,” Phoenix groaned.

“Phoenix,” Miles replied, grabbing a stick of butter from the fridge and slipping off toward the kitchen table.

[ahgasegotarmy116]

He Doesn't Deserve You | A Jeon Jungkook Series | Chapter Nine

Summary: The morning after has a bit of a rude awakening but he's not gonna let that get between the two of you Pairing: Noona reader x Jeon Jungkook (She's 28 and he's 22) Word Count: 2.4k~ Warnings: Hinting at smut but yeah not in explicit detail. a/n: Okay so I didn't realize I already had half of this chapter written so I finished it up today. I hope you guys enjoy and are looking forward to the next chapter 🤭 p.s. not edited at all cuz I'm feeling lazy today and I've got stuff to do 😅 Start from the beginning

My eyes flutter open when I start to stir awake and the first thing I notice is the strong arm around my waist and the soft puffs of air fanning my neck giving me a ticklish sort of feeling. I try to bring my brain up to speed and remember what happened last night and when I take a peek under the blankets and see the tattoos on the arm around me I know that I'm safe. 

"Noona?" he mumbles behind me and I hum to let him know I'm listening. "Good morning" he say, the deep tone of his voice now sending shockwaves through my system and when he pulls me closer to him I let out a quite yelp in response feeling utterly mortified when he chuckles, kissing my shoulder and nuzzling into my neck. 

"Did you sleep well?" he asks and I nod my head, "Better than I have in a really long time actually" I admit and he continues to place a few lazy kisses on my neck. "Really did a number on you last night huh?" he smiles against my skin and I scoff and try to get out of bed but he tightens his hold on me before I can get too far. 

"Where are you going?" he asks, continuing to pepper kisses all along my neck and shoulder, making me lose any sort of motivation I had to leave the bed just a few seconds ago. "Breakfast?" I say and he chuckles before putting me on my back and hovering over me with a cunning look in his eye. 

"I was about to have mine so why don't you just relax yeah? Wanna make you feel good" he says, kissing me and caressing my waist making me give in with little protest. "What time is it?" I asks between kisses and he glances at the clock on my nightstand. "Early" he says, clearly showing he has no where to be except for right here in this bed with me.

"You don't have work?" I ask, knowing he's pretty busy with everything he has going on in his life. "Not till later" he says and goes back to kissing me and because I don't have anywhere else to be either I give in.

He kisses his way down my body, garnering soft sounds of pleasure from my lips already and I can tell that it gives him a sense of confidence, making him want to keep going even more. 

"Didn't know you would sound so sweet in the morning Noona" he teases and I chuckle. "Didn't know you would be so needy in the morning" I retort and he smirks and continues his down ward trail until he settles between my legs. 

"You sure I'm the one that's needy?" he asks, staring at my center and seeing how undoubtably wet I am. "It's your fault" I grumble and he chuckles "Good because I'm the only one who's gonna make you wet like this from now on yeah?" he asks, kissing the inside of my thigh and biting down on it when I don't answer, hypnotized by the sight in front of me.

"Only you" I respond and he smiles against my skin, licking the spot he had just bit before going on and doing the same to my other thigh, still taking his time and making sure I'm dripping for him.

~~~~

After he's thoroughly ravished me and gone another round...or two I'm left in a slumped daze, glassy eyed and ready to pass out again but it's well past ten in the morning and we still haven't left the bed yet. 

"I forgot that younger guys have a higher sex drive" I mumble and he laughs, his head on my chest while I run my fingers through his hair, "You keep calling me young but we're only six years apart" he replies drawing patterns on my skin but I sit up making him roll onto his back and look up at my clearly confused expression. 

"You're twenty two?" I say in disbelief, clearly misjudging his age. "Yeah I thought you new that" he says, resting on his forearms. "How old did you think I was?" he asks and I run my fingers through my hair, having some what of a crisis at the thought of this. 

"I don't know twenty four, twenty five. But twenty two? You seem so mature though and with all the tattoos and piercings I just thought you would've been a little bit older. Not older than me but still at least a little older" I say and the room falls silent for a bit, the tension palpable and this time not in a good way. 

"Is my age gonna be a problem for you?" he asks, getting worried now that he's seeing the way I'm reacting to it, the silence and the somewhat distressed look on my face being a clear sign that something isn't right. 

"Well no it's just...Jungkook I'm gonna be turning twenty nine this year" I say and he nods his head. "I know, and I'm turning twenty three" he says, trying to make light of the situation but I'm still worried that he might be a little in over his head. 

"I'm a married, well about to be a divorced woman and I don't really want to be playing games anymore when it comes to finding a partner" I say and he nods his head, listening and not jumping in to argue which just shows another reason as to why I thought he was older. 

"I'm not interested in getting into a casual relationship and even though I'm going to be coming out of this traumatizing marriage, if I'm going to be in a relationship with someone then I need to know that they're going to be serious about us" I say and trail off, not really knowing what else to say. 

"I am serious about us" he says, sitting up and cupping my face, not giving me a chance to shut him out. "Jungkook you're still young. You have your whole life ahead of you and I don't think you wanna be tied down to a divorced woman who is honestly really unstable right now. And on top of that is about to have a psycho ex husband" I say, looking down at my lap, feeling bad that I let him get so close to me. 

"Don't do that" he says and I look up at him again, "Do what?". "Think about how to let me down easy and tell me you're sorry you let things go this far" he says and I can't argue that that was where my mind was about to wander. 

"I know our age difference, I know about your soon to be ex husband and I know that you're not healed yet. I promise you, I've thought about this a lot before ever allowing myself to get too close to you" he says, his tone level and face desperate for me to not leave him when we've only just started. 

"You don't have to say anything now, but I want you to know you're not getting rid of me that easily" he says with a sad smile, nervous that I might actually try to push him away but when he makes moves to get up I grab his wrist. 

"Where are you going?" I ask, my voice in a panic, not wanting to leave things this tense between us. "Breakfast? Or do you wanna shower first?" he asks, getting back onto the bed and guiding me back down, him now peppering kisses along my already thoroughly  marked neck, no doubt a conscious effort to hide the bruises from Taehyung. 

"I think I'll s-shower" I stutter and when he smiles against my skin and picks me up I quickly have to correct him. "Alone...is that okay?" I ask, a sign of the need for approval being something concerning for him rather than cute. 

"You don't have to ask for my permission Noona, especially for something like this. I respect your wants and boundaries so if you wanna shower by yourself that's your decision" he explains and places me down on my feet before turning on the water for me to warm it up. 

"Although I won't deny it when I say I'll miss you...but I'll take one later" he says with what I would call an adorable smile if he wasn't standing in front of me completely naked, having fucked me senseless at least four or five times in less than twelve hours...I've lost track at this point.

He places a hand on my bare waist and places a kiss on my forehead before leaving to give me space. 

When I come out of the bedroom, completely dried off except for my towel dried hair I find him wandering about my kitchen and making us some ramen for breakfast...well lunch since he kept me in bed for so long.

He notices my presence after I had been standing there for a while, looking up at me and smiling softly. I can't even remember the last time someone has looked at me like. 

"Did you have a nice shower?" he asks, taking the ramen off the stove and bringing it over to the table, placing a hot dish under to prevent the table from getting ruined. "Yeah, it was warm" I say, wrapping my arms around myself when I catch a sudden chill which he notices pulls me in, wrapping me in his warmth for a second before letting me go and leading me over to the table. 

"Let's eat before it gets soggy" he says and I nod, agreeing and taking a seat while he goes around to the other side so he can sit across from me. 

"What time do you have work?" I ask after we've eaten in a comfortable silence for a while. "Why? Are you trying to get rid of me?" he says after he's finished chewing, taking a drink of water and sitting back a bit, shamelessly checking me out for absolutely no apparent reason other than to make me nervous. 

"No, I just wanted to know since you said you didn't have to work until later" I roll my eyes, taking a drink of water and standing up to pour the rest of the unused broth down the drain. "I technically don't have work but it might as well be work" he says making me glance over at him suspiciously, wordlessly asking him to explain. 

"I have to watch my siblings tonight since my mom is working the late shift" he explains and I nod my head, still so curious about them since he hasn't told me much about his family. 

"You could come with me if you want?" he offers I splash water on myself, surprised that he would suggest that already. "Come with you? To your house? To meet your family?" I ask, my pulse picking up at the thought of it. I don't know why that makes me so nervous but maybe it's because I haven't met anyone new in a while, let alone my boyfriend's family...

Can I even call him that yet?

"You don't have to. I just thought I would offer since I didn't know if you'd wanna be home alone after everything that happened last night" he says and I can tell from that alone that he really does have pure intentions behind it.

"You don't think it's too soon? Plus what about this?" I ask, pointing out my very clearly love bitten neck and he chuckles, clearly enjoying the external struggle I'm having in front of him as if he wasn't the cause. 

"You have a turtle neck yeah?" he asks, heading into my room with me trailing behind him sighing and deciding I'll go since I really don't wanna stay here by myself. "Yeah I guess I could wear one" I mumble pulling one out of my closet and grabbing a few more things to complete the outfit.

When I turn around I see him sitting down on my bed with his legs spread as if he were ready to watch me strip. "What are you doing?" I ask, both of us knowing damn well what he's doing but playing the game anyway. "Watching...waiting" he answers, leaning back on his hands and dragging his eyes up and down my figure. 

I give in just a bit, slipping my shirt off over my head and revealing the fact that I'm not wearing a bra but he clocked it when I first came out. I walk over to him, his eyes having been staring at the change to looking up at me, grabbing my hips once I get closer. 

"Sit down yeah?" he asks, wanting to go again since from what he told me it had been a while since the last time he had been with anyone, completely obsessed with making me cum but I don't give in this time and shake my head which results in a very cute pout from him. 

"Just for a little bit?" he asks as if I would ever believe him but with the way he's started to play and kiss my breasts it makes me start to second guess my stance. "I don't wanna have to take another shower" I say, stepping back and making him even poutier from having thoroughly tease himself and can clearly see how worked up he's started to get me but I choose to ignore it. 

I can't give in every time he wants to have sex right? No matter how good he makes me feel...

"Come on go shower, I'll wash your clothes" I say and grab one of his hands and lead him towards the bathroom. He sighs and starts stripping leaving me looking away, as if I hadn't seen it all just a few hours ago. 

"Are you shy now?" he teases and tosses his clothes at my feet, making me look down and grab them quickly. "No I just didn't want to stare" I explain but shoot myself in the foot since I basically admitted that I would stare at his naked body if he let me, which he probably would. 

"You can if you want to, I won't be embarrassed" he taunts, immediately proving my point. "Just go shower you pervert" I sigh and pick up his clothes, quickly shutting the door behind me, gaining me a few faint chuckles in response before I hear the shower turn on.

He's gonna be the death of me.

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[deusvervewrites]

Saiyan AU

...So, I wrote a part two of that short story I sent a little while ago. I think it might be a little longer, but I hope y'all like it.

---

As the beam came hurtling towards Tsuyu, time seemed to slow down. The green glow of the spiraling beam inched toward her at a snail’s pace. The teachers, previously running to stop the match, were frozen in midair, having borne the brunt of the shockwave. The crowd, previously cheering for the fight, were stuck with faces of panic and horror.

And Tsuyu stood in the arena, contemplating her fate.

‘I can’t dodge that! Not even Father could dodge it!’ Her head buzzed with thoughts of fear, despair, and loathing. Fear over facing the Evil Containment Wave in person. Despair over not having gotten to truly live her own life. Loathing towards her father for having forced this fate upon her through his wicked deeds and actions.

With no other options in sight, Tsuyu did the only thing she could do: accept her fate.

‘So this is how it ends. Trapped in a bottle for all eternity. Forever conscious of the flow of time in a void too small to rest in. Imprisoned by an uncle who thinks I’m a villain of the worst sort.’

The spiral kept inching closer.

‘I’ll never see a warm summer’s day again. Never touch the cool waters of a lake or river in my life. Never become a hero like the rest of my classmates.’

The Evil Containment Wave reached its zenith, bathing her in the glowing green light of its power.

‘I’ll never see the world fully heal from my father’s attacks. Never see the celebrations of peace afterwards. Never see Habuko smile–

Suddenly, she stopped herself.

‘Habuko. I’ll never see her again.’

She remembered meeting Habuko for the first time. Remembered how skittish she was. How she stalked Tsuyu. How she became her student. How she became her friend. How she didn’t judge Tsuyu for the actions of her father. How she held Tsuyu in her arms as she cried tears of joy into her shoulder afterwards. How they both pledged to become heroes together with smiles on their faces.

How Tsuyu’s heart seemed to flutter whenever she looked at her.

‘No! I can’t leave her after all we’ve done together! After all our progress, all our hard work! All for nothing?! No! I refuse!’

With a newfound strength discovered, she desperately tried to find a way to defy her fate.

‘Think, Tsuyu! Think! What do you know about the Evil Containment Wave? What do you remember?’ Delving through her father’s memories concerning his imprisonment by that martial artist was always painful, but things weren’t likely to get worse.

As the beam kept traveling towards her, Tsuyu wracked over every detail of the event, from the way the martial artist moved to the ki buildup her father had sensed before he had been imprisoned in the rice cooker.

She had an idea. She wasn’t sure if it would work. But she was damned if she didn’t try.

Time started to speed up. The spiral rushed at her, faster and faster now. The teachers were crashing against the dirt and were being blown back farther. The sound of screams filled the air as the onlookers watched on. And Tsuyu stood still, building up her ki and focusing its intent to carry the person it would hit.

The spiralling beam of energy was right on top of her and just before it hit, she pushed arms out and focused her ki into them.

The spiral slammed into her hands, pushing with all its might to overpower her. Tsuyu could barely hear anything over the roar of the beam, holding it back in the palms of her hands. Even standing still she could feel the same power that had ensnared her father, the pull of the beam sucking at her very essence like a black hole that threatened to draw her in and carry her away.

She didn’t know how long she held it for. A few seconds? 10? 30? A minute? All that mattered is that she was holding it back.

She looked up and saw a look of shock on Kami’s face. She grit her teeth as she stared down the man who tried to ruin her life. And fired back at him.

“EVIL CONTAINMENT WAVE! REVERSE!”

In the blink of an eye, the spiraling beam of energy was hurled back towards Kami. He tried feebly to raise his arms to protect himself, but it was too late. The blast hit and he was sent flying.

As Kami flung through the air, it took a lot of concentration from Tsuyu to keep up the beam. While it couldn’t be turned off, it was taxing on her ki.

“Let him go!” she shouted, fury dripping from her mouth, “Release Shinsou at once, Kami!” Up in the swirling energy above her, Kami shouted and twisted Shinsou’s body in a panic.

“You may have beaten me, but I will not condemn an innocent soul alongside myself!” With a shimmering effect, the two separated, and Shinsou was flung out of the energy beam, leaving only her uncle.

With Shinsou’s safety secured, she directed the beam downwards towards the clay bottle. ‘Come on, Tsuyu, you have one chance! One chance or else he escapes!’ The beam rushed towards the clay bottle but, right before it hit, her uncle gave out one last defiant cry.

“DAMN YOU, PICCOLO!!!”

Then silence as the beam flung straight into the bottle.

:3

Rip Kami. Died of yuri.

[sirbonesly]

"Honey and Grass"

The next installment of my medieval fantasy au now titled:

A Kingdom of Strays

I decided that Simon's name before being taken by Roba will be Riley. His family name is Reed (red-haired or a ruddy complexion). 'Simon' is the name he chose after being taken in by John. I just... I needed a name for him, luvies.

@anonmousegosqueak @writer-fennec @kiokijin @fictitioussaturday

Johnny and Simon who were best friends as children, the Riley's working on the MacTavish land in return for room and board. Johnny and Simon who wander a little too far into the forest, and only Simon returns. The Riley's are outcasted from the land, finding themselves in Roba's kingdom.

But Johnny didn't die, he was just... borrowed. The forest fae could recognise a descendant of their own, his own father stolen at birth by his human mother (Johnny's grandmother). Johnny grows up in the forest for years, long enough for his family to slowly die one by one, his innate magic (even as a child) no longer keeping the fields prospering.

When Johnny ventures out into the human world once again, older now but still not knowledgeable of the world, he is drafted into a war he doesn't even know about. He fights under threat of death, setting off explosives and becoming a fiend in the battlefield. He does not care that his traps sometimes kill his supposed comrades, or that he is both feared and respected. Johnny is having fun in the human world, free to cause his chaos.

Simon meets him on the field after a battle, the man's first without John's guidance or watchful eye. His army is alive, most of them at least, but the injuries are numerous and medical tents have already been set up. Simon scours the battlefield for fallen soldiers, unknowingly walks into a trap set by Johnny. It's an old trap, one he recognises as his own design, one from his childhood.

Simon's feet are swept out from under him, powder hitting his face to disorient him, and something hard hits his back, wrapping around his middle. To someone else, it would be a good trap and would send them tumbling to the ground. But Simon came up with this idea a lifetime ago, and he knows how to fight it.

His hands grab the two strong arms around his middle, using his momentum to spin the two and land on his back, pinning the soldier to the ground. It knocks the wind out of the attacker, give Simon the chance to rip the hands off of him, scramble to his feet and draw his sword.

Forest fae have a unique way of finding mating partners, a game of sorts that is more sacred than even the life of a fae. The fae will find their desired mate, will wait for a soul to wander into the forest, and strike a game. If the fae can obtain the name of the human, then the chosen mate will provide a bairn.

Some human's have tried to trade for something different, and few have tried to turn the game around. Very few humans have been able to outwit a fae, have been able to learn the name of a fae. It's why the attacker freezes when he hears that deep rumble of a voice, so familiar through the ting of metal that hides a face.

"Johnny?"

The sword drops, the helmet following, and Johnny is struck by a wave of memories he hasn't thought about for the last decade. Dirtied blonde hair, the colour both natural and not, is pulled back tight into war braids, beads and metal adorning the fragile strands. Johnny remembers seeing that hair chopped so messily, remembers sitting in fields with the shears they used for the sheep, carefully trying to even it out. Johnny sees honey-gold eyes, pupils dilated and pinning him to the spot. Eyes that would shine in the dimming sunlight of the long days of the warm seasons, always finding Johnny even in a crowd. Johnny sees pale skin that's darker than he remembers, but not red in the way it used to be whenever they played too long outside. Skin like honey mixed with water, Johnny's favourite drink. The drink Johnny's mother would make him, that he learnt how to make on his own after the forest took him. The drink he would always share with his best friend. With-

"Riley."

[reallyromealone]

Title: end of beginning

Fandom: Yuuri on ice

Characters: Yuuri on ice ensemble

Fic type: series

Pairings: Chris x male reader

Warnings: male reader, reader insert, angst, reader is dense, slight fluff, reader has features technically but that's for plot, reader is in love but doesn't realize

Notes: you are going to look like Yuuri, you're siblings but reader will have some differences to make up for it for plot purposes

🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️

Every few months, the two brothers would schedule to meet up for lunch, Yuuri moving to Russia and (name) living in Canada made things hard but the two made it work.

"This is Chris and you remember Phichit!" Yuuri introduced them as (name) shook their hands, Yuuri always teasing about how westernized his brother had become but (name) knew he was happy for him.

"Pleasure to meet you, how are you enjoying Canada?" He asked as they sat down and Yuuri grinned "everytime I visit, it's like it's completely changed but hasn't at the same time!" He liked Toronto, he associated it with his brother so therefore it was perfect.

"Very loud! And the lake smells" Phichit said simply and (name) chuckled "yeah, it smells really bad... Apparently it's because of pollution" (name) was so casual and calm as he spoke, body covered in tattoos and looking at them they were obviously siblings, same smile... Though (name) looked considerably more wild and trendy where Yuuri looked more refined and conservative.

"An artist?" Chris seemed curious as (name) beamed and pulled out his phone to show all his work on Instagram "I work with all sorts of mediums-- I always try new things" Chris could see the passion in his words and his art spoke for him, it was genuinely quite impressive as Phichit was already looking through it and liking every photo "whoa! You made a sculpture of (insert celebrity)!" He gawked as he showed the photo to the others "yeah, it was for an auction..." (Name) Said shyly, Chris could now see the personality similarity.

Both were very bad with compliments.

The four chatted for about skating and life and by the end, (name) had two new numbers in his contacts as Chris kept getting closer to him "you got good cologne..." (Name) Said bluntly as he sniffed the others jacket, Yuuri sighing at the fact that Chris was clearly flirting with his brother and (name) was a dense fucker who had no qualms with getting closer to people.

"You can come to my hotel and smell it better if you like~" Chris teased and (name) raised an eyebrow and tilted his head "maybe when I see Yuuri again you can give it to me" he said simply and smiled at the other, Chris was a little shocked at how dense he was "anyways, I better get going! It was nice seeing you!" (Name) And Yuuri hugged and the other two watched how tightly they hugged, clearly missing one another.

Yuuri always worried for (name), the man tended to isolate himself in his art as he and Viktor went back to Canada two months later to check on him "(name)?" Yuuri called as he looked around the large apartment, his brothers works giving him the finances to afford this place. "Wow..." Yuuri said as he walked into the livingroom area where (name) stood in a messy t-shirt and joggers, feet bare as he painted with his bare hands on a large canvas..." Is that Chris?" Viktor asked his husband who nodded, the two looking around to see that the Japanese man had painted and drew amongst other forms of media, works of Chris everywhere.

"(Name), what the fuck" Yuuri said in Japanese, looking around in shock "oh... Hey" (name) said casually, exhausted but somehow still standing and painting "want to explain ALL THESE PAINTINGS" Yuuri waved his arms around to the paintings as Viktor let the siblings to at it "great dimension, (name)!" Viktor said pointing to a landscape painting and (name) looked proud of himself "he has excellent facial proportions, like drawing Aphrodite..." (Name) Smiled as he looked around "I don't know why... He's just perfect for painting... He's a muse"

Yuuri and Viktor looked at each other, the two knew (name) well enough to know what this was, Viktor only a few years but Yuuri... He knew what this was.

(Name) Never really shown interest in others, always in his own world and tended to do his own thing.

He was in love, even if he didn't know he was.

Yuuri ordered food for his brother, knowing the fucker didn't know how to cook for the life of him.

"How do you survive without being able to cook" Viktor said slightly horrified and (name) huffed "I can cook the important stuff! Like rice!" He said indignantly as Yuuri rolled his eyes "yes yes, you can cook the thing you ate everyday" the two siblings bickered as Viktor drank his coffee and watched, his brother in law being a shitling (fondly) as Yuuri scolded him "ordering party servings of food and eating it over a week isn't good!"

"It's called efficiency!"

It was nice despite the bickering, to see the love between the two.

"Do you even talk to him?"

"We talk like daily" (name) said crossing his arms "he's quite a chatter, though he keeps talking in cryptic messages" he said showing the texts where Chris was just blatantly flirting "I don't understand it at all!"

"(Name), never change" Yuuri said simply and his brother looked confused before looking at the messages with a squint.

Yuuri and Viktor looked at the paintings, they were detailed now to the light freckles on the Swiss man's face during the summer, (name) must have been looking at those photos intently as Yuuri set down drinks "how much was that one painting again?" Viktor asked and (name) shrugged "you can just have it if you want" he said simply and Viktor was gonna leave a few hundred, he was not taking that painting for free.

"So what brings you back so soon?" (Name) Asked curiously, sipping his iced coffee as he sat incorrectly on a chair "you have been radio silent for two months, you sent me a single picture of a snail and said 'hes for rizz' and nothing else" Yuuri said incredulously and (name) nodded "lil man had mad game with the lady snails" he said like he was inspired by the snail and Viktor felt the need for a drink with his brother in law "(name) you basically dropped off the face of the earth, you don't do that.. Im worried"

(Name) Sighed and closed his eyes for a moment before opening them "I don't know, genuinely... I got lost in my art and... Mari messaged me... I'm just freaking out" he said softly and looked at his brother "sorry for ghosting... I'm just --- mari wants me to visit and I have been putting it off for forever and I just don't want to deal with mom and dad"

It was no secret to Yuuri and Viktor that (name) had a complicated relationship with the Katsuki parents, it was partly why he moved to Canada.

"We can go together next month, how about that?"

"...fine..." He said simply and Yuuri hugged him, the conversation moving to other topics and the two ended the visit with a photo taken by Viktor who smiled at the brothers, no one realizing the painting of Chris in the background as it was posted.

"It's like looking in a mirror" Chris said simply as he stared at the photo of his friends.

He needed to call Viktor.

[crystalninjaphoenix]

Back to the Heart of it All

Fantasy Masks AU: Chapter Forty-Nine

A JSE Fanfic

In which a whole bunch of different things happen so I wasn't quite sure what to name the chapter XD But I like this one. It feels poignant, as we're drawing close to the end of this story. The Phantoms are ready to disperse, and all our main group are going to Suilthair to help Jack sort things out over there. Chase spends more time with his kids, Henrik says a temporary goodbye to someone special, and Jack has to build up some confidence so he can confront who the spirit left in charge. Hope you enjoy! :D

Previous Part | | From the Start | More AU | Read on AO3: CrystalNinjaPhoenix

Taglist: @brokentimewatch

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

It was hard for Chase to believe how much his life had changed. If someone had told him a year ago that next summer, he would be in a former rebel base, helping the King of Glasúil get saddled on a horse, he would have advised them to see a doctor for possible illnesses. But here he was. “You’re doing great, Jack, really,” Chase assured him. “Your muscle memory must be working.”

Jack laughed nervously. “It must be. But I’m worried about staying on as well.” He leaned forward, gripping the reins of the horse tightly. He looked tempted to grab onto the horse’s white mane as well, but held back.

“Well... you still have your enchantment powers, don’t you?” Chase said. “I’ve heard stories of enchanters being able to communicate with animals. Can’t you tell the horse to be careful with you?”

“I’m... probably out of practice with that...” Jack mumbled.

“Out of practice with what?” Jackie walked over. “Sorry, I couldn’t help but overhear.”

“Hi, Jackie.” Chase smiled. “How are you feeling? Everything is healed?”

“As healed as it can be.” Jackie stretched his arms above his head, then winced. “Okay, stretching is a bad idea, still, I’m remembering that. In any case, I don’t want to delay going to Suilthair any further. What are you out of practice with, Your Majesty? Horse riding? I’m sure if you ask Vsevna, he’ll make space for you on the Serpent’s Wake. That’s probably faster, anyway.”

Jack shook his head. “N-no, I don’t think it will... be good for me, to be stuck on the water. Having sea legs won’t help my balance. Besides, I’d rather take the time during the journey to think.”

Jackie nodded slowly. “That does make sense.”

“Besides, I was... talking about... my enchantment powers,” Jack mumbled. “Chase suggested I try to use them on the horse to ask for a smooth ride.”

“...well, that seems like a good use of enchantment powers,” Jackie said slowly. “And from what I know, something like that is easier and... less invasive than other enchantments.”

Jack sighed. “Yea... that’s a good point. Maybe I’ll try... but I-I’ll see if I can stay on the horse from my own power, first.”

“That’s a good idea.” Chase smiled. “Now... I have to get on my own horse. Can you handle it from here?”

Jack nodded. “I’ll stay here until we’re ready to go.”

Jackie glanced at Chase and mouthed, I’ll keep an eye on him, too.

“I’ll see you again once we get started,” Chase said. He gave a small bow, then headed off.

Not all of the Phantoms were going to Suilthair. Some of them were going to other camps to help figure out what the Phantoms there were going to do now—try to either dismantle the camps or repurpose them for something else. Others were staying here, maintaining this position just in case. Still others were going home. Some already had. And Chase couldn’t blame them. He wanted to go home, too. Though that was a bit difficult since his village had burned down. So, the second best thing was in Suilthair, anyway—Stacia was still there, along with a lot of the other villagers. He had to see them. To see her. To see if... her reaction to him had only been because of the enchantment or... if there was a kernel of truth to her feelings.

The party heading to Suilthair was gathering at the edge of camp. The horses they were taking had been brought here originally by the warriors—most of whom were also coming to Suilthair, as their return would lend everything a bit of credibility. There weren’t enough horses for everyone, so some people would be walking, but Chase had been lucky enough to claim one—mostly because he said that he wanted it for the kids.

Said kids were looking up at the horse Chase had claimed in awe and confusion. They hadn’t really seen horses regularly before. As Chase approached, he saw Jameson talking to them. They’re really friendly once you get to know them, but you do have to be confident, he was saying. Trust that they’ll take care of you. If you grip the horse too tightly, it will just make them nervous.

“They sense fear,” Amabel whispered, then giggled.

A little bit, I suppose! Jameson said, smiling. But they’re also very scared creatures themselves.

Quentin reached up towards the horse’s head, looking a little nervous as he patted its nose. The horse seemed docile enough, though. Chase still didn’t know much about horses, but others told him that this one—white with large brown patches—was the most docile of the ones the warriors had brought. The best one for the children. “Hello there!” Chase announced as he walked close. “Are you two ready?”

“Dad!” Amabel waved excitedly. “Come meet Locket! She’s so pretty, isn’t she?”

“I’ve already met her, Amy,” Chase laughed. “Right before I went to help Jack. I helped saddle her up.”

“Ohhh.” Amabel nodded. “So... we... get on her, then?”

Quentin swallowed nervously.

“Don’t worry, Quen, I’ll be right behind you two,” Chase reassured him. “Here, I’ll help lift you up first. Is that okay?”

“Y-yea.” Quentin nodded. He raised his arms into the air and Chase crouched down, wrapping his arms around his tiny waist.

“Alright, swing your leg over here,” Chase grunted. “Yes, just like that. I’ll just push you into place. Here, you’re tiny enough that you can hold onto that bit of the saddle in front instead of the reins. Yes, you’re doing great!” He let go of Quentin, who sat stiff as a board in the saddle. “Great job, Quen.” Chase smiled. “Now, Amy? Do you need help?”

“I... I can use the stirrup!” Amabel said decisively. “Just, uh... I need a stool or something.”

Jameson grinned. He linked his hands together and put them close to the stirrup—acting as a step. Amabel nodded and stepped onto the man-made step, then onto the stirrup. She tried to swing her leg around but accidentally hit Quentin on the way, causing him to yelp. But she quickly shimmied into place after that.

“Hey!” Quentin frowned and tried to look back at her. “You hit me!”

“Sorry,” Amabel said. “I was focusing. Thank you, Jameson.”

Jameson shook his hands. Not a problem, Amabel! You three will have a great trip, I’m sure. Locket has been totally unbothered this whole time, she’s a very good pony.

Amabel smiled. “Hear that, Quen? Good pony.”

“Good pony,” Quentin repeated absentmindedly.

Chase took a deep breath and also got on Locket. It was a bit cramped with the kids in front of him. But if things got too uncomfortable he was okay with getting off and walking beside the horse. “Alright, Jameson. Are you ready to go, too? Or... get on your horse, at least?”

Jameson nodded. I’ll see you on the road, then? 

“See you on the road,” Chase repeated, grinning.

Jameson gave him a small salute, then walked over to his own horse—again, borrowed from the warriors. All of the horses were being put to use, either for riding, or for carrying supplies. The black horse Aneirin rode as in the latter category, as Jack felt uneasy around the tall steed. By now, almost everyone who was going to Suilthair was ready and mounted. Chase scanned the area. Jackie was on his own horse, and Marvin was nearby, preferring to walk with Draco at his feet. Henrik was coming, but he wasn’t here yet. Chase didn’t blame him for that, though, as he had something very important to do.

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

Henrik stared out at the ocean, watching as boats rowed back and forth between the coast and the Serpent’s Wake, still anchored just off the side of the Cliffs of Feall. Though not for much longer. They’d stayed for weeks, doing all they could to help the Phantoms and the warriors recover from the battle. But they could only stay in one place for so long. “Where will you be going now?” Henrik asked.

Next to him, Vsevna shrugged and leaned back, resting his weight on his arms. The two of them were sitting near the edge of the cliffs, watching the ocean together. “Before we joined up with the Masked Phantoms, we were a simple merchant ship. Perhaps we will go back to doing that.”

“So... you will be leaving the island, then?” Henrik asked tentatively.

“Eventually, yes.” Vsevna nodded. “But you knew that, did you not?”

Henrik sighed. “I did. You have always been a sailor. But... I will miss you.”

Vsevna scooted closer to him. “I will miss you too, sova. Sometimes, I miss you even when we are away for only an hour.”

“Well that is a bit extreme, is it not?” Henrik chuckled.

“Heh. That is exaggeration, but you know what I mean.” Vsevna laughed as well. “You are... dear to me. And you always will be. I promise you that.”

Henrik nodded. “You are dear to me as well.” After a moment of hesitation, he leaned his head against Vsevna’s shoulder. “But I know that you belong on the ocean. That is your passion, and I would not keep you from that. But I... I just hope you write to me a lot.”

“Every night I will write down anything interesting that happened, so that I can put it into a letter when enough is piled up,” Vsevna said.

“Oh, you do not have to do that—”

“I have just decided that I will. I have spoken it into the world and so it must be fulfilled.”

Henrik laughed. “Then I will do the same!”

“You will probably have a lot more to write about, then.” Vsevna glanced back at the camp behind them. “I know that a lot will be happening in this kingdom in the next while. Which is why... I don’t think we will be leaving the kingdom behind entirely for a while more. We will probably be doing some internal shipping, from one city on the coast to another. But ah, the Wake, you know it is meant for deep waters.”

“It would be a shame to keep it too close to the shore,” Henrik agreed. “It runs more risk of running aground.”

“The very idea scares me.” Vsevna shivered, a look of exaggerated horror on his face. Henrik couldn’t help but smile.

They fell silent for a bit. The rowboats’ journeys became less and less frequent out on the water. Until, finally, just one more rowed out to the base of the cliffs. Henrik could barely make out the faces of the passengers far below. One of them belonged to Yuko, Vsevna’s second mate. She looked up towards them and waved. Vsevna waved back, then held up a single finger. She nodded, and turned away. “That is the sign for you to go, then?” Henrik asked, trying not to let his sadness into his voice. 

“Yes, unfortunately.” Vsevna sighed and shifted his weight. Henrik leaned away so that he could get to his feet, then stood up next to him as well. “We are going to make our first stop at Kroswealosh, I think. It is a big port city, very likely to have things that must be shipped. I want to send you a message once we arrive. Should I tell Yuko to send the bird towards Suilthair?”

Henrik nodded. “I feel as though that is where I will be for a long while. Perhaps I will even... settle down there. Become a city doctor, instead of a traveling one. I-it will make it a lot easier for you, if you do not have to worry about where to send the message bird each time.”

“I do not want to stop you from traveling, sova,” Vsevna said softly. “After all, you are not stopping me.”

“Well, I think it is different for me,” Henrik said slowly. “You... you love the adventure, you love the seeing new places. Travel is not so important to me. It has always been because... that is how I thought I could help the most people.”

Vsevna chuckled. “Of course it has. I know this about you. Brilliant, caring Henrik.” He turned to face Henrik completely and reached out to grab his hands. Henrik let this happen, gripping Vsevna’s hands tightly in turn. “I hope... I hope things work out with your medicine, Henrik. I-if something goes wrong while I am gone, I... I want you to message me, yes? Yuko is leaving one of her birds here—”

“I know she is,” Henrik said.

“Right, of course you know, I-I told you.” Vsevna laughed nervously. “But... please do not only tell me... the happy news, yes? Do you understand? I-I know you may be scared, you may not want to worry me or... risk pushing me away. But I want to know the bad things as well. I want to know, so that I can send you back the reassurances and whatever other comforts you need. That is what we do in this situation, yes?”

“Yes.” Henrik nodded. “In that case... you must do the same. We can tell each other all the good and bad things, and it will be like we are right with each other. Do you promise?”

“I promise. Do you?”

“Of course.” Henrik smiled. “Now... I do not want to keep you waiting, so—”

Suddenly, Vsevna leaned forward, pressing his face against Henrik’s. The movement—the meeting—was unexpected, and Henrik gasped slightly, the sound muffled. Vsevna quickly pulled back. “S-sorry, did you not want to—”

“No, no, I-I did.” Henrik laughed. “I just... I thought you would say something first. Or move slower. H-here, here, let’s try again.” He leaned forward, and after a split second of hesitation, Vsevna did as well, the two of them meeting in the middle.

The kiss lingered for a good few seconds before they both stopped at the same time. Henrik couldn’t stop from smiling, and he saw the same dumb grin on Vsevna’s face, too. “Next time, I will say something,” Vsevna said.

“Let it be the first thing you say to me,” Henrik said. He squeezed Vsevna’s hands one last time, then let go. “Now... please go join your crew. You might be worrying them.”

“Oh, I think they know what the delay was for,” Vsevna chuckled. “You keep an eye out for my message bird, sova.”

“I will. I will send a reply back straight away after.” Henrik nodded. “Stay safe. Farewell.”

“Farewell, Henrik.” Vsevna smiled, then turned and hurried to the path down the cliffs.

Henrik watched him go. He leaned over the side to watch Vsevna get in the row boat, and stayed watching until the boat got out into the water. Then he took a deep breath and went back to camp. No doubt the others already had all the horses saddled up to go already.

Part of his heart was already aching. But he thought back to that last moment, to their closeness. And he couldn’t help but smile again.

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

The journey to Suilthair was long and not very interesting. Despite how they were traveling with a squad of warriors wearing the royal crest, as well as the King himself, they didn’t attract much attention. Then again, that might be because they deliberately avoided towns whenever possible. They didn’t want to cause a fuss or risk something delaying them. It was crucial that they get to the city as soon as possible.

Over time, Amabel and Quentin both grew to really love and appreciate the horses—especially Locket, who they usually spent most of the day riding on. Neither the kids nor Chase really liked horseriding, as it was very bouncy and sort of uncomfortable. But they got used to it. It was a small price to pay for a quick pace.

Jackie wasn’t too fond of horses either, but unlike Chase and his kids, he couldn’t get off the horse to walk sometimes. Henrik insisted that he not walk because it might open his wound back up. Despite Jackie protesting that he was “almost completely healed” by this point. Once they got closer to the city, Marvin got tired of hearing Henrik and Jackie argue about this, and used some magic one night to heal the rest of Jackie’s lingering injury. Chase... didn’t know that was something he could do. “Why hadn’t you used magical healing before?” he asked. “That would’ve come in handy countless times!”

Marvin glanced side to side, then pulled Chase close. “Because the only healing spell I know involves me actually taking on the injuries and pain of the wound,” he explained. “I think there are other ones, but I never bothered to learn them because they all have consequences along those lines.”

“Oh!” Chase’s eyes widened. “Will... will you be okay for the rest of the journey?”

“Of course.” Marvin snorted. “Jackie’s ‘wound’ by this point has been naturally healed down to a small cut. Henrik is just being overprotective. But you have to let him be, sometimes. It’s how he shows he cares.”

Jameson spent the first couple days on the trip looking at his new mask. Or rather, the new decorations on his old mask. He’d agreed to take over as the lead for administration, letting Anna go home to see her family. Now, dark blue circles colored the inside of the rabbit’s ears, while the nose was made purple. A pair of curving, light blue lines traced the shape of the mask, one to the left and one to the right. Anna hadn’t had any colored decorations, but Marvin, Jackie, and Henrik all insisted that he have some. “You came with us into the Wyldwood, Jameson!” Jackie had said. “You’re a huge part of this. You deserve some color.” Which was true, Jameson supposed. Even so, it didn’t really feel real. He never would have guessed his life would lead him here. But as the journey progressed, he started to settle into this new role... which wasn’t really too new to him, anyway. After all, before all this, he’d been a noble, training to take over the responsibilities of the Jairsolas family one day. It took him a bit to remember his old lessons about leadership, but... something told him he would figure it out.

Jack, meanwhile, was becoming more and more nervous the closer they got to Suilthair. Everyone could see it. He hadn’t been too outgoing in the first place, but as time went on he began fidgeting, his face drawn, barely picking at his food during meal times and constantly shifting back and forth while riding his horse. By the time they were a day away from the city, it was beginning to actually be a problem, as dark bags from lack of sleep were clearly forming under his eyes.

While the group was riding, Chase stalled for a moment to get off Locket, handing her reins to a nearby rider so that she wouldn’t go off course (and take his kids with her.) “I’ll be right back,” he said to Amabel and Quentin, then hurried over to Jack, who was riding nearby. “Hey Jack.” He looked up at him, maintaining a brisk pace so he was even with the trotting horse. “We’re going to reach Suilthair before nightfall, you know.”

Jack tensed slightly, gripping the reins of his horse tighter. “Y-yes, of course I know. I heard you all talk about it when we were breaking camp.”

“Right, we were.” Chase nodded. “So... how nervous are you about that?”

“Nervous? What makes you say that?” Jack gave him a smile... nervously.

“You’re... not exactly doing a great job at hiding it,” Chase said slowly. “I don’t blame you for feeling that way, there are a lot of reasons why you might, but... I just wanted to check on you.”

Jack’s smiled faded. He looked away and sighed. “You’re a really good man, Chase.”

“I try to be.” Chase laughed a little. “So... how nervous are you?”

“Very, I think,” Jack admitted. “I know that your group has been doing some, uh... research into the city’s current state—and the whole country’s, too, of course. I know that we’ll be walking into a place that’s mostly confused, but... I can’t help but be afraid that some people there will remember what I—what Aneirin did to them. All the enchantment, and all the harm he caused... Not to mention I distinctly remember he left Thalia Tinechroí in charge as regent, and she’s not exactly the most pleasant person, even though she tries to be charming.”

Chase laughed. “I think Marvin and all the rest of us would agree.” Then he looked ahead as well—down the road leading to Suilthair. His expression turned serious. “I know it’s probably going to be hard. And complicated. But we’re here to stand by you. You have us with you—and a squad of warriors who probably have high ranks in the, uh... rankings. We’ll all lend you support and backup. In whatever way you need.”

“I know you will, Chase.” Jack nodded. He took a deep breath. “It’s just... hard not to think about all the bad things that could happen.”

“Well, at least nothing will be as bad as that spirit, right?” Chase shrugged.

Jack laughed. “You’re fucking right about that!”

Chase grinned. “Besides, you’re a very good man, too, Jack. Everything will be fine. You just... need to look royal. And speak royally.”

“That might be a bit tricky,” Jack said slowly. “I don’t feel very royal.”

“Hm... well, maybe there’s some magic that could help with that?” Chase suggested. “I saw you talking to your horse a couple times during the journey. Is that... helping you get... familiar with your magic again?”

“O-oh, you... saw that.” Jack looked a bit embarrassed, but pressed on. “I guess it has.”

“Maybe you could make some sort of illusion around yourself,” Chase continued. “Like how the Fair Folk are said to wear glamours to change their appearance.”

“Oh, yes, I’ve heard of that.” Jack nodded. “You know, it’s funny, I picked up on some tidbits from that spirit while it was... h-here.” He went a bit pale, but again, pressed on. “Back in his day, there was a rumor that Smauel’s father was a Fair Folk—explaining why he had such strong enchantment magic. I... guess that would mean the spirit’s father was the same. With them being twins and all that. So... I could probably do a Fair-Folk-like glamour. I doubt I could make myself look like an entirely different person, but I could probably make some slight modifications to my appearance.”

“You might want to get rid of the dark circles under your eyes,” Chase suggested.

“I have dark circles?” Jack blinked. “Alright, uh... Chase, do you mind watching me while I practice this? Tell me when the dark circles disappear.”

Chase smiled. “I will. Not a problem.”

Later that day, shortly after they stopped for a quick lunch break, the Emerald Lake came into view, its water gleaming in the sunlight. The group had spent a lot of the journey avoiding the roads, but now they met up with one, hoofbeats and footsteps thudding on the packed dirt. They had to take the ferry to the island in the center, of course, but they’d worked out the timing carefully so that one would definitely be there when they arrived. The small dock area where the ferry arrived and departed was pretty much empty except for the sailors who ran the place and a handful of warriors. The traveling group was easily spotted—in part because Jack had put on the King’s golden circlet again. It had been tucked away for most of the journey—and indeed, it had been tucked away since the end of the battle at the Cliffs. But now it was out again, and though there was a bit of dirt clinging to it, Jack had practiced enhancing its shine with his powers, making it so that anyone who looked at it thought they saw it perfectly clean and almost glowing. He’d done the same with the rest of his clothes, dusty from travel, and had made himself look less tired and drawn, with Chase’s help.

Everyone nearby stopped and stared at the group as they approached. Then one of the warriors gasped. “Ronnie!” They ran towards the group, and while the Phantoms all tensed instinctively, one of the formerly-enchanted warriors laughed and ran forward to meet this other warrior, and the two of them embraced. That certainly broke the tension.

“Your Majesty, you—you’ve returned!” gasped one of the sailors. “You’re—do you—you wish to use the public ferry?”

“It seems the most efficient, doesn’t it?” Jack said. His tone was lighthearted, almost joking. The sailor couldn’t see the way he gripped the reins of his horse tightly. “We’ll be leaving our mounts in the stable here. How soon can you be ready to depart for the island?”

“A-as soon as possible!” The sailor bowed, and so did everyone else. Some of the formerly-enchanted warriors hurried forward to explain the situation to the warriors here. Or at least, to give them the most basic of basic rundowns. There probably wouldn’t be time to explain everything.

One ferry ride later (the whole group was pretty crowded on the small boat), and they had arrived in Suilthair proper. Everyone spilled out of the ferry and onto land, immediately garnering attention from the regular cityfolk, who stopped in their tracks to stare. Then, once they realized who was among this group, they all gasped. The King?! With not only royal warriors, but some of those mask-wearing rebels as well?! And they were all... getting along?! Talk began to buzz around them like a hive of bees. Some shouted at others to come look at this, and people began leaning out the windows of buildings to look at what all the fuss was about.

Chase made sure that Amabel and Quentin were close to him. He held Amabel’s hand tightly in his left, and Quentin’s in his right. His eyes darted around. At least people didn’t seem angry. They didn’t seem happy, either, but he wasn’t expecting that. They mostly just seemed shocked and confused.

“Alright, Your Majesty.” Jackie stepped close to Jack, scanning the crowd for potential dangers. On Jack’s other side, Lydia the warrior did the same thing. “Let’s get to the castle fast.”

“Right.” Jack nodded. He looked out at the crowd on the docks and raised a hand, waving in greeting with a half-smile on his face. “Sorry! We have business to attend to.”

The fact that the King actually spoke to them just seemed to shock and confuse the crowd more. “Okay, really, everyone go.” Jackie began ushering people forward. “We don’t want to create a bottleneck on these narrow wooden paths.”

The group hurried through the city, the wooden pathways bouncing under the weight of their many boots but never dipping too far into the water. Despite Jackie’s best efforts, there were occasional spots where their progress slowed because of the onlookers. A crowd was starting to develop, some of said onlookers following the group as they made their way towards the palace in the center. It seemed to disperse for a moment as the group stepped from the wooden pathways to the actual island, but then it began to gather up again in even greater force. None of the onlookers got too close, always keeping a couple arm’s lengths away from the edge of the group, but they were there. Jack smiled slightly and waved a couple times. And every time he did, the crowd was clearly surprised.

Then they reached the castle wall.

The crowd fell back a bit, reluctant to get too close. A pair of warriors outside the front gate looked at the group as they approached, wary at first but then becoming more confused as they saw the King and some royal warriors walking among the strange masked rebels (though not all of the Phantoms wore their masks, nor did all of the warriors wear their tunics with the royal crest.) Jack stalled for a moment. The enchantment he was sending out hid his anxiety, but Chase knew it was there. “You can do this,” he whispered.

“Yea, Mr. Your Majesty,” Amabel added, nodding seriously. “You can do this.”

Jack looked down at her in mild surprise, then nodded back at her. He stepped past Jackie and Lydia, who had taken the lead during this walk, and looked at the pair of warriors. Taking a deep breath, he said, “As you can see, I’ve returned. Open the gates. Please.”

The guards hesitated. “Your... Your Majesty?” one of them asked slowly. “Is that... really you?”

“As opposed to...?” Jack raised an eyebrow.

“Your eyes are... different,” the other one said.

“Yes, I know they are,” Jack said calmly. “There’s a reason for that, though I know if I say it, it will sound very unlikely. Do you want to hear the reason, anyway? Because I know I will have to explain to Lady Tinechroí, and it will likely be much more efficient to only do it once. Let me inside so I can do that, please.”

The warriors glanced at each other. “Your Majesty, we... we were told not to open the gate for any visitors the Lady did not approve beforehand.”

“And that includes your King?” Lydia asked.

Jackie nodded. “Whatever Lady Tinechroí ordered, you know she is outranked by the King.”

Again, the warriors glanced at each other. “Can you wait outside while we alert her?” the first one asked.

Jack glanced at the Phantoms and warriors around him, who had all started to close in. Then he looked at the crowd of onlookers further back. He nodded slowly. “If you’re quick about it.”

One of the warriors looked upwards at the top of the castle wall and shouted for someone to go get Thalia. A figure on top hurried off, and silence fell for a moment. Chase glanced at Jack. The illusion was still in place, but it couldn’t hide the slight trembling all over his frame. As Jack looked back at Chase in turn, Chase gave him an encouraging smile. Quentin and Amabel also gave him thumbs up with their free hands, which caused Jack to laugh fondly a little.

The group shifted around as someone came closer to the front. First, a small off-white cat—Draco. And then following him, Marvin. “I knew she would try something like this,” Marvin muttered. “Your Majesty. Jack. You have to stand firm. She’s very stubborn. Worst comes to worst, say you’ll be speaking to her parents, or maybe mention that you doubt she could handle a high-up position if she won’t listen.”

“Thank you, Marvin,” Jack whispered back. “Ah... are you... sure you want to be in sight? It might just... make things worse for everyone.”

“I’ll be fine,” Marvin said, reaching up to pull his mask down over his face. “She won’t even know it’s me.”

“Draco is a bit of a giveaway,” Chase muttered to him.

Marvin tried to gently push him out of sight. Draco stubbornly remained where he was for a whole minute before he finally got annoyed and trotted away, heading back through the group until he reached Jameson, who quickly scooped him up and carefully moved so that he was hidden from view.

After a few minutes, the castle doors opened. Thalia Tinechroí stepped out. She looked very noble, her hair flowing around her face in a blonde wave, wearing a deep yellow dress with ruffles and a thick skirt. Next to her, Enid, her dog and familiar, stuck by her side, sniffing the air. Somewhere in the back of the group, Draco wriggled about and narrowed his eyes. “Your Majesty,” Thalia said calmly. “I am glad to see you back after such a long delay. I know you said you were not sure when you would be back, but we expected it to be sooner.”

“Yes, I am aware,” Jack said, managing to stay calm. “Lady Thalia, a lot has happened in the past half season, as I’m sure you can tell just by who stands before you. But I have returned—truly returned, and I need to know what state the kingdom is in.”

“What state the kingdom is in?” Thalia repeated. “Your Majesty, I can promise you, I’ve done my utmost to serve as your regent.”

“Yes, I am sure you have, and I’m sure you’ve done a fine job,” Jack said. “Thank you for all you’ve done. I am ready to return to my duties.”

“You say that, Your Majesty, but I can’t help but look at your eyes,” Thalia said. “They seem to have shifted color. Such a thing is not natural. How are we to know you are the true King, and not some sort of trick? After all, those people in the masks have been working against the crown.”

“If you ask me any question the King should know, I can answer it,” Jack said. “For example, I know that before I left, you stopped me and awkwardly hinted that you would be ready for an engagement, by using some sort of metaphor about butterflies and flowers?”

Thalia’s jaw dropped. She was clearly trying to say something, but no words came out. Her face turned very, very red.

“The reason for the change in my eyes is simple.” Jack looked around. Some castle servants and warriors had gathered on the wall above, while around them, the onlookers had crept forward into earshot. “The truth is... for as long as you’ve known my eyes to be green, I have not been... myself. A spiolash invaded my body and took control. For the past seven years.”

Everyone muttered at the sound of the possessive spirits’ true name. That was not something said lightly.

“With the help of these Masked Phantoms, I have been freed,” Jack continued. “And the spirit’s spells have ended. I’m sure you all must have felt something shift in the air some time ago.”

More muttering, mostly from the growing crowd of onlookers.

“I have taken some time to recover and now I am ready to return to my duties,” Jack said. “Again, I thank you for your help running the city and the kingdom as I did so. But I ask you to step down now.”

Thalia blinked slowly, eyes darting back and forth. “And, ah... these Phantoms, as you call them, are to be allowed into the palace as well? How well do you... know these people, Your Majesty?”

“Well enough,” Jack said. “And if you have doubts, I have with me here several of our most trusted warriors who can also vouch for the Phantoms—as well as verify my story of the possessive spirit.” Lydia nodded, as did the other warriors in the group.

Thalia looked at the guards who’d been at the front gate. “Do you recognize these warriors?”

“Yes, of course,” one of them said. “Though it has been a while since we’ve seen their faces without helmets. There's no doubt who they are.”

The onlookers muttered among themselves, some of them pointing at Thalia. She saw them doing this and stiffened slightly. Apparently the idea of looking bad in front of a crowd made her uncomfortable. Enough that she nodded. “V-very well, Your Majesty. Welcome back. And welcome to all the rest of your group as well.” She looked up towards the top of the castle wall (where servants and warriors had gathered to watch). “Open the gate!” 

The servants up above moved about quickly, and the massive front doors soon opened. Behind them was a portcullis blocking the way, which rose upwards. The onlooking crowd all gasped and murmured, sounding very interested and curious as to what’s going on. Jack looked at them and waved, smiling slightly. Some of the crowd—mostly the younger ones—waved back. And with that, the group all headed into the castle.

Chase tensed slightly as they walked through the wall. The last time he was here, he was helping Jameson escape. He glanced back through the group towards Jameson, and saw that he also looked a bit pale and worried. But he was standing strong, so Chase felt like he should be able to as well.

“I... assume you’ll be wanting to go back to your rooms, King Aodhán?” Thalia asked slowly. “The servants have been keeping it clean. But, ah... where will the rest of your... friends stay?”

Jack glanced back at them. “Well, some might prefer to stay in the barracks on site, but I know that we have the whole east wing and towers full of guest rooms for the others. Though I’ll warn you guys now, they’re probably in disrepair.”

“That’s fine, Your Majesty,” Jackie said. “We’ve slept in worse places.”

Thalia blinked and looked at him. More specifically, at his mask. She narrowed her eyes. “Have we met?”

“Yes,” Jackie said. “But don’t worry about it. We both have the common goal of helping the kingdom, so there’s nothing to worry about, is there?” He looked at her pointedly.

“...right,” Thalia said slowly. She glanced at the other Phantoms and all their masks, clearly taking note of ones she was familiar with. “Your Majesty.” She stepped forward, leaning close to Jack despite how Jackie and Lydia both stiffened as she got close, unafraid of how several of the Phantoms and warriors reached for their weapons. “May I speak with you alone later?”

Jack hesitated for a moment. Then he made a decision. “No, if alone means with just the two of us, you may not. I know that you mean the best, but this is a very tense situation we’re in right now, and I don’t think it would look good if I spent time alone with one person. These Phantoms here might think you’re trying to conspire with me. You may speak with me in a group setting, though.”

Thalia blinked. “I... simply want you to think about the type of people you spend your company with. If you can really trust them.”

“I am thinking about that, Lady, I assure you,” Jack said. “And if you keep pushing the matter, I may start to reconsider my trust in you.”

Thalia immediately shut her mouth. She nodded, and gave a little curtsey. “As you wish, King Aodhán.”

“Thank you.” Jack nodded. “Now, if you could please alert the servants to open up the east wing and towers.”

“Right away, Your Majesty.” And Thalia turned, crossing the gardens of the castle grounds and quickly heading to the palace.

The moment she was gone, Jack let out a long breath, his posture deflating. He glanced back at Chase, who smiled. “You did a great job, Jack,” he said quietly.

“Very great,” Amabel agreed.

Jack smiled slightly, then looked at Jackie and Lydia. “Do you two mind... staying nearby for the rest of the day?”

“Of course.” Jackie nodded, and Lydia bowed.

“Your Majesty, do you... actually trust her?” Marvin asked. “Believe she put her best foot forward, and all that?”

“Not fully,” Jack said. “I don’t trust her character, but I trust her to be consistent—and to not do anything that would make her lose favor. Don’t worry, we can all keep an eye on her.”

Marvin nodded, looking relieved.

“Alright...” Jack sighed. “Let’s see what a mess they’ve made of the castle.”

It took all day for everything to settle down. The servants and warriors of the palace were surprised to have the King back—and shocked that he was so different from what they remembered. Many of them were relieved, but a bit confused. Still, none of them questioned Jack’s orders, and went about opening up the parts of the palace that had been closed, doing their best to get it all back in order. The Phantoms helped, even though most of them didn’t know anything about how to maintain rooms in a palace.

A brief meeting was held around dinnertime where everyone talked about what happened in Suilthair since the King left, and about the news that had come in from the rest of the kingdom. It seemed that the moment the spirit had been banished, all the enchantments he made had disappeared, meaning that a lot of warriors and servants came out of trances they’d been in for years, and even common citizens of Suilthair felt as though they’d awoken from a fog. There had been confusion, but Thalia had managed to keep order—seemed she was good at that, at least, even if she was just doing so to cozy up to the King. The servants and warriors had maintained the status quo in the castle, but loosened up, generally. Many people living in Suilthair had left, but others had come in from the surrounding countryside, wondering what was going on in the city and why rumors said the King had gone. Overall, it could have been much worse. But there was still a lot of work to be done.

Later that night, Chase found himself settling down for bed in an actual room for the first time in a long while. Jack had asked him to stay close by, so the room was rather fancy, being in the royal wing where Jack’s rooms were. It was dirty and dusty and the legs of some of the chairs had snapped off, but it could have been worse. Marvin, Jackie, Henrik, and Jameson all shared another room also nearby, though theirs was bigger, with an actual connected living room. They offered to let Chase share, too, but he declined. He would rather have a room with just him and his kids.

“This is a really nice bed,” Quentin said, bouncing on the mattress—then sneezing as doing so caused a lot of dust to fly into the air.

“Careful, Quen, you don’t know what’s in there,” Chase chuckled.

Amabel climbed onto the bed next to Quentin and threw the blankets to the side. “Hm... I don’t see anything.”

“Good idea to check, though,” Chase said.

Quentin nodded. “Good idea. Now, come on, Dad! It’s night time!”

Chase smiled and climbed into bed next to them. “Are you two sure you want to share with me? You’re not too ‘big’ for that? There’s a nice sofa in here I could use.”

“The bed is giant, Dad, it’s no problem,” Amabel said. “We’ll be on one side and you can be on the other!”

“Ha! Good point.” Chase had brought a candle into the room for light. He set it down on the table next to the bed while he and the kids got comfortable. “Alright... you two know what we’re doing tomorrow, right?”

The two of them looked at him and nodded seriously. “We remember where Mom lived,” Amabel said. “I hope she’s still there.”

“Of course she is,” Chase reassured her. “And she’ll be so happy to see you again.” Though he was a bit nervous, himself, he knew that Stacia would have been so worried this whole time. He could barely stand to delay seeing her for another night, but she would probably be asleep by now, anyway. “Alright. So we have to all get some good rest tonight. Got it?”

“Got it, Dad,” Amabel said, and Quentin nodded. “We’ll be so rested. Look.” She pulled the blanket up to her chin—meaning that it was up to Quentin’s nose, as he was still much smaller than her.

Chase chuckled. “Okay. Good night, you two. I love you.”

“Love you too,” both kids said in unison.

Chase leaned over and blew out the candle, then settled down for the night. Tomorrow, the family would be fully reunited again. Tomorrow would be the start of the rest of their lives.

[jack-kellys]

painting over mirrors

read here.

David has noticed a pattern, and he can't tell if art is the solution.. or the cause.

a short javid fic about art not being a coping mechanism, and instead a half-cursed way of being.

The roof of the lodge is lined with ghosts, is the first thing David notices.

Young boys and girls made ghastly by charcoal and the night sky are stuck to the railing, to the brick, and all around the hollow, iron rod that juts out oddly as a makeshift chimney for the heater a floor below. Each paper is a tiny bit crumpled, too, as if Jack has torn them down and put them up numerous times. David asks about them carefully, but only receives a shrug in return.

“They’re past kids that’ve come through here an’ left,” Jack says. “It’s my way of, just. Remembering them.”

David catches him watching a particular drawing, older, dirtier than the rest, a little longer. The boy in it has a button-like nose, similar to how Les’s used to look when he was younger, with Jack’s dark springy hair and large black eyes. He isn’t smiling, and neither is Jack when he finds David’s gaze.

“It’s nothing,” Jack retorts, as if David had said something. “Really, Dee. I just wanted to show you around up here is all.”

“And you are,” David agrees, allowing his gaze to become quizzical now that Jack’s gone defensive.

And Jack’s sensed it, his expression already working to undo what David’s spotted. The heat recedes from his eyes, his shoulder releases its tension. He even smiles, a forced shoving of his lips and cheeks.

“That's your nosey look,” Jack accuses David- accurately, but that's besides the bigger picture. “All in good time, m’kay?”

David’s not so sure.

Because Jack spends hours and hours alone at Medda’s, and when David comes by he finds the boy surrounded by scrap pieces of canvas, half finished and ripped, his paint-splattered body bent uncomfortably forward with a brush to the new one he’s stretched out, mumbling. And when he sees David he goes rigid, reddened eyes widened as if David’s caught him drinking too much or something when it at least only looks like painting.

And Jack spends hours and hours alone on the roof with his scrap paper that he folds away with an easy grin when David comes up to check on him, even though David can see that full, rendered sketches are completely scribbled over with dark, pressured marks.

And usually, anything struck through, brashly painted over, or smudged beyond recognition is free of mountains, sun, cacti and clay homes. Santa Fe remains safe, and so do Jack’s ghosts.

“No,” David finds himself saying. “It's been enough time, it's been- too much time of you hiding yourself away and not… being happy, about it.”

Jack looks at him, confused, so David forces more words from himself.

“Usually when you're drawing, or painting, when I'm there at least- you look… passionate. Like it's a simple sort of.. natural love.”

Jack frowns. “Yeah, Dave, ‘cause I- ‘cause it’s what I do.”

“Then why do you…” David bites the inside of his cheek, but continues. “Why do you- also passionately.. destroy it?”

“Passionately destroy it,” Jack echoes with a hum after a moment. He leans back against the railing, crossing his arms. “It’s not- it’s just. It’s how I work. If I don’t like somethin’, I try again.”

“Most people rip out a page or set a canvas aside, or- hell, go with it,” David counters. “Jack, you… wreck it, to where you can’t even tell what it is anymore. Doing something you love.”

Jack looks up at him then, eyes narrowed curiously.

“You keep saying I love it,” he says. “Don’t think I ever said that though, Dee.”

David blinks.

Jack spends so much time practicing and perfecting this craft, he sketches friends and places he knows and places he wishes he knew, he sketches young newsies he still misses. He creates art out of the things he loves, David knows it.

“Don’t you?” he asks slowly, setting himself next to the other. Jack scoffs.

“I don’t love cigarettes, but I still smoke, don’t I?” he says, shrugging. Jack’s gaze flicks forward. “I don’t.. really know howta describe it. I see something, you know, in my head, and I just have to get it down. I have to, and if I don’t, I just get this fear that I’ll lose it, somehow.”

David nods, after a few seconds of processing. He tilts his head, hoping Jack will keep going. He doesn’t.

“Lose it, you mean- get angry?” David asks. Jack shakes his head, eyebrows scrunched, trying to figure it out himself.

“Nah, nah, like- lose it. Forget it. Like it’ll disappear,” he clarifies. “Like you’ll- you’ll just disappear. If I don’t do something about it.”

David doesn’t have anything to say to that yet, and thankfully Jack continues.

“I know y’won’t. I know that ain’t really true,” Jack murmurs, arms unfurling and hands setting themselves on the rail behind him. “I dunno why I keep drawing if it ain’t something I really love, like that, like how Kath loves writin’. I just know I have to, I gotta make somethin’ or it won’t be real, you know? With my own hands, makin’ those memories. Makin’ sure things I like can’t be blocked out, since I used- uh, I used to… it used to happen.”

And Santa Fe isn’t a memory, so it always remains. It’s always perfect, this… western desire, the cowboy idealization, it’s Jack’s one true creation. Nothing Jack can create it as can be marred when he doesn’t have anything to line it up against in his mind.

“And the destruction, then,” David inquires softly. “Is it about accuracy to what you remember? Does what you draw have to be exactly what you see..?”

Saying it out loud, David knows it’s not true- Jack’s sketches are often loose and relative, he’s just not sure what else the explanation can be. He doesn’t think like Jack, like an artist. And so Jack shakes his head.

“Ain’t easy to explain,” he says to David. Jack’s nose scrunches slightly, thinking. “Less about exactness and more… what it was to me . Interrup- interpretation. Something in my head just needs to express what the memory is to me, and when my hands ain’t do it right, it’s like misremembering, and I can’t risk that, so I have to get rid of it. There’s memory in your body, right, and there’s memory in my hands. I ain’t wanna accidentally draw or paint somethin’ wrong the same way twice, so I gotta rip it, or write over it, to just- remove it. Cancel it out.”

David bites his lip at that. Jack catches it, though, and his eyebrows raise.

“I mean I guess- I ain’t have to. I don’t need to,” Jack tries. “I think I just- well, I feel.. better when I do. I gotta do what my brain’s saying, that’s all. I can see what it’s gotta be, and I just get this itch, you know?” He scoffs, laughing bitterly. “God, it really is just like smokin’. Shit.”

David smiles with him, though a little bittersweetly. He can’t quite tell if Jack’s… suffering, exactly. There are times when his art looks like it’s killing him, and David knows how much time Jack can take with it and how much it isolates him. Is it really like smoking? Like some kind of addiction to the other, or some compulsion?

“Jackie, if it’s a habit you want to break,” he says, placing his hand over the other’s, “I’m here to help, you know? Anything you need for this, I’m here.”

Jack’s gaze falls to where David’s touching, letting their fingers properly intertwine.

“I probably should be better about it, hm,” Jack smiles softly, sadly. “But it’s- Davey, I dunno. It’s just how I think. It’s how I work and how I see things.”

“Then…” David hums. “Then I’d like to see how you see things, then. I’d like to see how you think. Tell me when you’re going to the theater. Tell me when you’re gonna go sketch something. You don’t have to create these memories by yourself all the time, yeah?”

Jack purses his lips, letting his head fall against David’s shoulder. “Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

David does his best to not let his body reveal his relief. The memorializing Jack does in his head, for those still around him… It’s a little haunting. He doesn’t know why Jack feels that need outside of his artistic inclination, but something tells David it has to do with that boy on the page that looks too much like Jack, set right by where Jack sleeps. Something… happened , something that used to–or still does, for all David knows–cause Jack to lose time, to block out things from his past. David doesn’t want to be one of Jack’s ghosts, not while he’s still around. Not if he can do anything about it.

“You need someone to remind you when to grab supper anyway,” David says, instead of any of the loose puzzle pieces drifting through his brain. Jack merely whines, and presses himself closer against David, decidedly present.

[midwestemoismid]

Do you ever love a character so much you sorta steal your entire personality from them,,

<autism rant>

Cuz like I'm obsessed with Nicole from class of '09, if sorta stolen my whole humor from her, Which isn't really a good thing because shes kinda a piece of shit, the game revolves around her being a horrible person or trying to kill herself or something like that, I'm not like as mentally ill as her, but my humor has evolved to be similar to Nicole and ive sorta had this not care attitude. I've also been really jokingly mean to one of my best friends (he knows its a joke, thats our humor) but I accidentally did that to my little brother and felt SO bad lmao,, (he said something very obviously and I loudly go "yeah no fucking shit bitch" then started apologizing profusely) This other time I was playing blooket w/ that same friend and I did something that made him eat a fake burger and I went really loud "have this fucking burger you fat ass bitch" and hje just stared at me like wtf,, and the other person on the call (who I just met) was SHOCKED.

i'm not a bad person,, hes okay with me making those jokes btw

well im sorta a bad person but i'm working on that

i sorta hate having obsessions over character because i want to BE THEM. and it sucks even more when theyre a horrible person--and when theyre a girl,, cuz like i want to de-transition and become a terrible person and chane my name to Nicole WHAT THE FUCK WHY I DONT KNOW and like i had an alt acc on tiktok where i used she/her and named myself nicole and it was like a class of 09 fanpage sorta. and like i dont wanna be a bad person nor do i wanna hurt people feelings or be addicted to drugs AT ALL but like NICOLE🙏🙏🙏

this always happens when i have some sort of obsession. i dont typically have favorites but when i do its like an obsession

and like one other problem with being obsessed with nicole is i accidentally obsess over mental illness and (stuff i shouldnt obsess over), wich is really bad and unhealthy.

I gain little obsessions over certain things, like right now im REALLY obsessed with a game called "bad parenting" and it's a really really sad game. I wont spoil it but its genuinelly depressing and made me cry. after i saw it i wanted to hug my dad and tell him i loved him for being a good dad. ive been listening to the backround song on repeat for a bit, i might even draw fanart of it idk,, but i feel like i shouldnt be hyper obsessed with it

as a kid i also was really obsessed with "salad fingers" wich had a sadish theme to it, i kinda forget the plot but i thought it was interesting and how the main charecter was kinda messed up.

I also really like "little miss fortune" wich was also really sad. again i dont remember the plot my childhood is sorta a blur and i dont remember it well

"Sally face" is another sad game i liked. not gonna spoilt it but i loved the supernatural bit and there was a lot of death.

I also really love horror movies, ESPECIALLY horror movies that go into psychology. Like for example, saw is pretty interesting because its cool to see if people would rather cut of an arm or die. I know it's fake but it's still really cool.

Theres a lot i find interesting but i dont wanna sound like im actually insane lol

This ran went in so many placed i forgot what the original post was about😭 took me abt 2 and 1/2 class period to wright

If you read this all, thanks! If you relate reblog or comment (or make a new post and tag me) and tell me what charecter you relate to/obsess over

[lucygxybaird]

i've just a seen a face, i can't forget the time or place where we just met. she's just the girl for me, and i want all the world to see we've met. had it been another day, i might have looked the other way, and i'd have never been aware. but as it is, i'll dream of her tonight. (i've just seen a face - the beatles) Billy treats his mother to a night of live music, thinking she deserves to have a little bit of fun. He doesn't expect to meet a sweet, scintillating songbird named Lucy Gray Baird.

“Oh, Billy, I’m not sure about this—”

Kathleen McCarty hesitates on the threshold of the saloon, her hand tucked into the crook of Billy’s arm as though to restrain him from going inside. The double doors are thrown open to catch the hint of spring in the air, musing spilling out into the street along with the lamplight. It’s already crowded, a band going full swing on a makeshift stage at the back of the cavernous room. The dance floor is so packed that Billy can only catch a glimpse of an elbow here, a swirl of a skirt there, a tip of a hat or tap of a boot. 

He desperately wants to go in.

Billy offers his mother an encouraging smile. “Ma, come on, it’ll be fun. Please? Please? We won’t stay for very long, I promise,” he says, unabashedly wheedling. “Just a song or two. You deserve to have some fun.”

God knows that’s true. Between working herself to the bone, taking care of him and Joe, and dealing with Antrim’s special sort of bullshit, Kathleen doesn’t have any time for herself. And Billy remembers well how much she and his father used to love to dance. “I’ll ask the band if they know any Irish folk tunes,” he adds, grinning, and his expression only brightens when Kathleen smiles back at him. 

“Oh, well,” she says. “Alright. But only a song or two, do you hear?” She pauses. “Do you think the band knows Téir Abhaile Riú?”

Billy laughs, leaning down to kiss her cheek. “I’ll ask,” he says again. “Come on.”

He leads his mother inside, just as the band finishes their song. The young woman standing in center stage beams, and Billy thinks he actually feels his heart flutter for a second. She’s tiny — standing in her heeled boots, she may not even come up to his shoulder, although it’s hard to tell with her standing up there — but she exudes a blaze of energy, drawing the eye the way a fork of lightning will steal all eyes from the stars. 

“Thank you, thank you!” She spreads her arms wide as if to embrace the whole room. “My name is Lucy Gray Baird, we’re the Covey, and I promise, we’ll be right back after we wet our whistles for just a minute or two.”

She jumps down with the light, easy grace of a deer bounding through the woods, landing right in front of him. Billy is aware of the other members of the band — there’s a flash of blonde curls, the impossibly sharp angle of an elbow that can only belong to a teenage boy going through a growth spurt, and a young woman hauling a bass at her side — but he can’t take his eyes off Lucy Gray. When she smiles at him, his own smile is tugged from him as naturally as the moon pulling the tides toward shore.

“I think those might be the prettiest blue eyes I’ve ever seen, but it’s hard to tell with that hat hanging over your face,” she says. “Let me check.”

Reaching up, Lucy Gray actually picks his hat up off his head, holding it down by her side like it belongs to her. She tilts her head, wrinkling her nose as though considering the depth of color on his eyes. “Yep,” she says, putting the hat firmly back on for him. “Blue, just like I thought. Maybe the bluest. Definitely the prettiest.”

Billy, trying to cover the fact that he’s now blushing furiously, says: “Why don’t I buy you a drink for getting it right?” 

Lucy Gray smiles at him again. “What would I have gotten for being wrong?”

“A drink,” Billy says, and she laughs. 

She leads the way toward the bar, and slips onto the stool, swinging her booted feet idly. Billy slides onto the stool next to hers, waving down the bartender. “Whiskey,” he says. “And—”

He looks over at Lucy Gray. She raises an eyebrow, grinning up at him. “A whiskey for me, too, sugar.”

As the bartender pours them each a drink, Billy touches the brim of his hat, nodding at her. She giggles. “My name is Billy,” he says. “I brought my ma in to hear the music.”

He looks over at Kathleen, who has found a table near the door. She waves at him, and he waves back. Lucy Gray wiggles her fingers, blowing Kathleen a kiss. “I can see where you get those lovely eyes of yours from,” she says, propping her chin on the heel of her palm. 

She picks up her glass and takes a long sip, closing her eyes as if in pleasure. He watches the way her long, dark eyelashes flutter, how her lips purse on the rim of the glass. All of a sudden, he’s desperately thirsty in a way whiskey won’t fix, but he downs half his own order in one go anyway. 

Before he even has a chance to ask if she knows any Irish tunes, Lucy Gray says: “Does your ma wanna hear anything special?”

When Billy makes his request, she smiles and hops down from her stool. “You bring her right up front,” she says. “We’ll sing just for her.” 

Billy grins at her and crosses the room to his mother, as the band starts to gather up on stage again. “Come on, Ma,” he says, offering her his hand. “Lucy Gray says they’ll play your song.”

“Oh, Lucy Gray’s her name, is it?” Kathleen is smiling at him in the certain way all mothers have when they believe their children to be acting especially endearing. “I could see you two talking over there. She’s rather pretty.”

“Ma,” Billy groans softly, feeling more grateful than he can express in words that Lucy Gray is up on stage, in conversation with the willowy bass player, and she can’t possibly hear this conversation. Otherwise he would just have to hope for a very singular sinkhole to open up at his feet and swallow him whole. “We were just — I mean, I’m sure she has a…”

The words haven’t even left his mouth and already he finds them upsetting. Lucy Gray having a beau has only occurred to him just now, and he finds himself looking around the room, trying to find a a man young enough for her — one sitting alone, maybe, eyes trained on the stage like he can’t bear to look away. But it looks like every man here (apart from Billy himself) is too old, or with someone, or both. He relaxes a little. 

They find a place in front of the stage. Lucy Gray catches his eye, and she winks at him. Billy feels his face flush and wonders if the pink in his cheeks is visible with the lights of the stage shining in her eyes. 

“Oh, no, I saw the way she was looking at you,” Kathleen says, patting his arm. “If she’s seeing someone, she won’t be by the end of the evening, I’ll warrant.”

He opens his mouth to protest, but then music starts to tumble from the stage like a living thing -- drums gamboling and fiddles stepping lightly through the air, the strumming of a guitar twirling after them. Lucy Gray is standing center stage again, keeping time with a hand at her hip. 

“Look how the lights of the town, the lights of the town are shining now — tonight I’ll be dancing around, I’m off on the road to Galway now…” 

She steps lightly forward, arms sweeping in a graceful circle as her feet tap on the boards, the hem of her skirt belling outward as she twirls. He watches her light up from the inside out, beaming, eyes gleaming. 

“Look how she’s off on the town, she’s off on a search for sailors, though. There’s fine fellas here to be found, she’s never been on to stay at home—”

The bass player and the girl with blonde ringlets framing her face like a nimbus of gold lean forward, adding their voices to hers. 

“Home you’ll go and it’s there you’ll stay, and you’ll work to do in the morning. Give up your dreams of going away, forget your sailors in Galway.”

All the members of the band join in for the chorus, stamping their feet to the rhythm of the Irish tune. Kathleen is positively beaming at Billy’s side, clapping her hands in time. He keeps stealing glances at her in between drinking in Lucy Gray’s performance, thinking that he can’t remember the last time he’s seen his mother so happy. 

“Téir abhaile riú, tèir abhaile riu — téir abhaile ríu, Mherai, téir abhaile riú gus fan sa bhaile — mar tá do mhargadh déanta…”

The crowd around them has started to pair off, letting the fast, heady rush of the music carry them around the floor. Billy turns to his mother, grinning and holding out his hand once more — but before he can take it, he hears a light clatter of boots and turns to see Lucy Gray, grinning widely herself. She bobs a curtsey to Kathleen and puts out her own hand, beckoning encouragingly. 

“Come now and follow me down, down to the lights of Galway where there’s fine sailors walking the town, and waiting to meet the ladies there…”

He expects his mother to demure, huddle against him, but instead, she puts her hand in Lucy Gray’s like she’s known the girl all her life. Lucy Gray doesn’t miss a beat as the two girls left on stage carry on the tune. 

“Watch now, he’ll soon be along — he’s finer than any sailor, so, come now and pick up your spoons. He’s waiting to hear you play them, whoo!”

Billy can’t stop himself from laughing from sheer joy and pleasure as he watches the years fall away from his ma, her dark curls flying away from her face, her eyes brightening and her feet just as light as her partner’s twinkling toes. Lucy Gray is laughing even as she sings, the sweetness of her voice warming with ripples of joy. 

“Here today and she’s gone tomorrow, and next she’s going to Galway. Jiggin’ around and off to town, and won’t be back until the morning.”

He’s aware of a flash of yellow from the corner of his eye, and he looks down to see the little blonde singer, putting out her hands to him. Billy bows, one hand over his heart and the other folding behind his back, and the girl smiles up at him. He takes her by the hand and they whirl onto the floor, finding themselves by Lucy Gray and his mother. 

“Téir abhaile riú, tèir abhaile riu — téir abhaile ríu, Mherai, téir abhaile riú gus fan sa bhaile — mar tá do mhargadh déanta…”

He realizes, with a kick to his heart, that his ma is singing along. He can’t remember the last time he’s heard her sing, or even hum. Idly, picking up the girl and spinning around with her in his arms, he thinks he’ll have to ask his mother what the Gaelic chorus means. 

“Off with a spring in my step, the sailors are searching Galway for a young lady such as myself, for reels and jigs and maybe more…”

Lightly, with no signal at all except a flick of Lucy Gray’s dark head, she darts to one side and Billy’s partner to the other, with the blonde taking Kathleen’s hand and twirling under her arm. Kathleen laughs, and Lucy Gray snatches up Billy’s hands, tugging him closer. 

“Stay here and never you mind the lights of the town are blinding you. The sailors, they come and they go, but listen to what’s reminding you — handsome men surrounding you, dancing a reel around you…”

Singing of handsome men, Lucy Gray leans up on her toes, her lips at his ear, as if the words are just for him. He turns his head to hide his grin, but he catches a glimpse of her dark eyes, and he knows that she saw. It doesn’t really burn him, this idea. It doesn’t burn him at all, actually. 

“Home you’ll go and it’s there you’ll stay, and you’ve got work to do in the morning. Give up your dream of going away, forget your sailors in Galway…”

Billy knows most of the people on the dance floor, by sight if not by name — the old woman who works at the inn where they stayed when they first arrived in town; the owner of the Chinese laundry and his wife, neither of whom he’s seen smile this wide before; his mother’s friend Hattie, who is clasped in the arms of—

“Mr. Upson, is that you?” Billy calls to him over the music, unable to keep from laughing again. 

Mr. Upson just grins at him and frees a hand from Hattie’s waist to tip his hat toward Billy. 

“Téir abhaile riú, tèir abhaile riu — téir abhaile ríu, Mherai, téir abhaile riú gus fan sa bhaile — mar tá do mhargadh déanta…”

As Billy turns again, Lucy Gray still grasping his hands like she’ll never let go, she leans back on her heels. He whirls her around, easy as you please; she’s light as a feather, and in any case, he would sooner drop an anvil on his foot than drop this girl right now. 

“Listen to the music flow, I’m falling for the flow of home. I’m home to dance til dawning…”

Her voice warms him from the inside out, song flowing from her lips like the finest of wines, and he knows he’s not the only one getting drunk on the sound of her. Everyone, his mother included, is flushed with exertion and a giddy happiness that drives the years and their troubles away like the gentle mornings of spring driving away all thought of winter’s chill. 

“Téir abhaile riú, tèir abhaile riu — téir abhaile ríu, Mherai, téir abhaile riú gus fan sa bhaile — mar tá do mhargadh déanta…”

Lucy Gray keeps one of his hands in hers and reaches for other for Kathleen, who is still dancing with the tiny blonde singer. Kathleen grabs onto Lucy Gray’s hand, looking up at Billy with starlight still caught in her eyes; Billy, for the first time in his life, understands how one can cry for joy. It’s like he’s so happy that he can’t contain it, a sweet ache that starts in his chest and spreads upwards, until his throat is tight and the corners of his eyes sting. Still, he wouldn’t trade the decision to come in here tonight for anything in the world. 

For more reason than one. 

“Stay a while and we’ll dance together now, as the light is falling. We’ll reel away til the break of day, and dance together till morning…”

The blonde girl reaches for Mr. Upson’s hand, and on his other side, Hattie reaches for someone else. Soon the dancers on the floor have formed a ring, whirling around in a feverish, excited circle, as the song plunges toward the chorus one last time. 

“Téir abhaile riú, tèir abhaile riu — téir abhaile ríu, Mherai, téir abhaile riú gus fan sa bhaile — mar tá do mhargadh déanta…”

As the Covey members still up onstage bring the song to an end with a flourish, Lucy Gray jumps nimbly back onto the boards, twirling around and spreading her hands. Kathleen ends up pressed against Billy’s side, giggling like a girl, her hair a mess and her smile firmly fixed on her face. Billy puts an arm around his mother’s shoulders to steady her as the crowd collects itself enough to burst into rapturous applause.

“Thank you! Thank you for comin’ out tonight, and joinin’ me in our final song—!”

The crowd groans, Billy included. Kathleen digs an elbow into his ribs. 

“—for tonight!” Lucy Gray insists. “For tonight. I promise y’all, we’re not goin’ anywhere just yet. In case you forgot, I’m Lucy Gray Baird, we’re the Covey, and I swear, we’ll be back to sing for you soon!”

Billy guides his mother over to the bar, the better to escape the crush of people as they start to leave. It seems that with the Covey done for the evening, most of the crowd is done, too. A few stragglers follow them to the bar and occupy the stools, but a few moments later, the place is nearly empty. 

“Ready to go?” Billy says, putting a hand on the small of Kathleen’s back, ready to guide her out. 

Instead of answering him, she flicks her dark blue gaze to the side of him, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “I’ll wait for you at the door,” she says, and Billy turns to see Lucy Gray standing at his side, looking up at him with a scrap of paper peeking between her fingertips.  

“Your ma is quite the dancer,” she says, and Billy chuckles. “So are you.”

“Oh, well, thank you.” He tips his hat to her again, and she bobs her head in response. “I can’t remember the last time I’ve seen Ma like that. It’s been…” He falters, thinking of how she used to be, before Pa died. He pulls a smile onto his face from somewhere deep. “It’s been a while.”

Lucy Gray surprises him by taking his hand and squeezing it lightly, once, before letting go. She doesn’t pry, but she says, “Well, you two should come back sometime.” 

Before he can say they (sure as hell) will, a voice calls out from the back room: “Lucy Gray! We’ve leaving!”

She smiles and leans up to kiss his cheek. “Maude Ivory,” she says. “Your little dance partner.” She puts a hand to her mouth and adds in a stage whisper, “She thinks you’re cute. So do I.”

With Billy befuddled and blushing, she turns to go, crossing the room in light, graceful strides. As she disappears through a curtained door by the bar, Billy feels the whisper of paper against his palm and turns his hand over. He smiles at the note she’s passed him. 

If you want to see me before our next show (Thursday, 8 p.m.), meet me at the meadow by the old Willow Ford farm tomorrow night. I like to watch the stars come out. 

- Lucy Gray Baird.

He isn’t sure what compels to do it, but he finds himself lifting the scrap of paper to his lips and kissing her signature on the page, before slipping it into his pocket. Billy goes to join his mother at the door, and he barely registers the way she’s looking at him with that indulgent little smile on her face. He walks her home in a sort of daze, thinking that the sun has only just now set, and he can’t wait for it to do it again tomorrow. 

The next time the sun goes down, and the stars start to twinkle in their sea of indigo velvet, he knows that’s when he’ll see her again. 

[myuiis]

because it's written down, you've memorized it

gungoo oneshot

1.7k words

angst because chapter 479 fundamentally changed me as a person

ao3 link if yall want:

"You’re going to die in your best friend’s arms. And you play along because it’s funny, because it’s written down, you’ve memorized it, it’s all you know."

So, this is the end, Park Jonggun thinks as he swirls his wine in his small glass, watching his breath turn to steam in front of his face. It’s not a bad one, by any means. The snow falling from the sky in ill-fated flurries that melt as soon as they touch his skin; the faint rumbling of Seoul in the background; Goo’s gentle breathing by his side. 

If anything, Gun thought this whole thing would’ve ended a lot differently. 

A knife fight, maybe, or some other sort of barely concealed violence– teeth gnashing, jaws snapping, claws scratching at each other’s throats. That’s how they met, after all. Standing alone in that junkyard, the sky pouring rain as if it was crying for them, blood dripping from their wounds, bones creaking from the effort of staying upright. 

But this isn’t much better, Gun thinks. It’s unfamiliar. Suffocating. 

It’s so antithetical, so fundamentally opposed to everything they are and were meant to be. Weapons are only supposed to draw blood, after all. Violence is all that they had ever known. 

So why is it that all he feels, watching his rival and partner and best friend of four years sitting on the ledge beside him, watching the clouds split into pieces and fall to the earth, all he feels is something stirring inside– a deep, dark, primordial fear? 

When will you leave? Will you really leave? Will I really have to kill you? Why did you do it, Goo Kim? 

Gun has always been a man familiar with fear. It comes with the territory when you kill for a living. But there’s something strange about this fear; it’s raw, a little bit ugly, a little bit too rough for even Gun to enjoy. 

But what’s worse is this: they accepted it so easily, as if it was carved on their bones, as if it was a script they’d both rehearsed; their end was an inside joke between friends– easy, familiar, funny. Even now, they both understand what kind of person the other is, what kind of choices the other would make. 

It’s like they both already knew this would happen, from the second they laid eyes on each other. They’re not the type of people for happy endings. 

Still, they stayed. 

Did Gun expect a different ending? Was he trying to achieve a different ending in the first place? Goo Kim, what did you do? What do I owe you? Is this really what you wanted after all? 

Is that why, when Goo asked him to drink, for the first and last time, he sounded so sad? 

But once again Goo doesn’t answer any of his questions; once again, Gun is secretly glad he doesn’t. 

They sit there under the roof of the old house, the snow still falling in clumps and flutters, its whiteness shining in the dim sunlight. 

“Hey.” 

The silence is broken when Goo finally speaks again. 

“I think I’ve gotta be on my way now.” 

Gun looks up from his hands, abruptly realizing how much time has passed when he sees the sun already setting. 

“Taejin might start getting worried that you killed me if I’m not back soon,” Goo continues. He cracks a soft smile at his own joke and stares at Gun, as if expecting him to reciprocate the smile. 

He does. 

“Why don’t we finish this bottle first?” he replies, picking the soju bottle up again to emphasize his point. 

“What, I thought you weren’t in the mood for drinking?” 

“Mm, changed my mind,” Gun replies, and that’s the end of it. 

They pour their drinks out and down it all in one shot again, like they did the last time. The alcohol burns pleasantly as it rolls down Gun’s throat, and he remembers why he likes it so much in the first place: it tastes like a fight.

 He thinks he’s drawn to Goo in the same way. 

They haven’t ever drank together, courtesy of Goo’s aversion to alcohol and all things that could be considered a “vice"; but as they sit there together, glasses clinking together, it feels as if they’ve done this a thousand times over. 

They pour out another shot and down it again. And then another. And then another. The entire time, they don’t speak a single word, barely even look at each other. Perhaps this was exactly the kind of ending that was fit for their relationship. 

The irony writes itself. 

A violent, glorious start, filled with snarky threats and bloodied fingers; a peaceful end. Like the slow fizzling out of stars that were never big enough to go supernova. Was that what Gun and Goo were to each other? 

Friends, colleagues, lovers that never were? 

Lovers, Gun thinks, whispers silently, rolling around the word on his tongue like he’s trying to weigh it, trying to scope out its smooth edges and sharp corners. It’s heavy. Unbearably so.  He doesn’t think it fits them, doesn’t think it ever will. 

Love is a tender, tender thing. Gun and Goo haven’t got a single bone in their body made for tenderness. All of their bones are for breaking. 

Gun looks over at Goo, only to find that Goo had already been staring at him for who knows how long. When Goo sees that he’s been caught, he doesn’t look away. Instead, he only grins. 

…Gun doesn’t know what it was. Maybe it was the way the light bounced off the rim of Goo’s glasses and fluttered off his lashes like stars. Maybe it was the way Goo’s face looked especially pale amongst the snow, so pale that Gun thinks he’d fade away if he didn’t grab him. Maybe it was the alcohol. Maybe it was the slight flush on Goo’s cheeks or the farewell that didn’t yet slip off his tongue or his annoying smile that Gun needed to wipe off his face. Maybe it wasn’t anything at all, but at that moment, it was so easy to just lean forward and take. 

So he does.

Gun leans in and kisses Goo. 

The moment is stretched thin to infinity, like time has just stopped. Goo makes a surprised, muffled sound and tenses, but the movement is brief. He eases into the kiss as well, as if he’s been waiting all his life for this, as if they’ve done this a million times.

The feeling of Goo’s perfectly maintained lips against Gun’s own chapped pair isn’t unfamiliar. Neither is the coolness of his glasses against Gun’s nose nor the way Goo shifts in his seat. 

After all, they had spent the greater part of the last three years together, and they had needed to explore some more… primal urges.

But what is unfamiliar is the tenderness. 

Gun and Goo’s kisses had always been tongues and teeth: a fight, a challenge, a dare. A battle for superiority, like everything else they’ve ever done. At the end of it, Goo always tasted like blood, whether it be his own or Gun’s.

The taste of Goo, unstained by blood or anger, is something softer, smoother, so much so that Gun hardly believes that it’s really the blonde that he’s kissing. Goo tastes like rain and home cooked food and dollar-store soju. 

Is this what a goodbye tastes like? 

If so, Gun thinks that he wants to say goodbye to Goo again and again and again. This is nice, he thinks. If the Earth stopped spinning right then and time stopped flowing, the fact that they’re there together in the first ever moment of gentleness they’ve ever shared would be enough.

Gun doesn’t remember who pulls away first. Maybe Goo did, judging by how he instantly moves to adjust his crooked glasses or rearrange his scarf; or maybe it was Gun himself, as he instantly moves to fix his hair. 

The moment ends, and they both pretend like nothing ever happened.

Goo is the first one to acknowledge it.

“You know, you’re actually pretty good at this stuff when you’re not trying to eat me alive,” he says, and it sounds noncommittal, like a joke. As if none of that just mattered. 

But the crack in his voice at the end gives him away. 

“But don’t think that it’s enough to get me to stay.”

Yeah. 

Gun knows. 

Goo is a breezy, capricious person. His moods come and go like the wind. But when he sets his sights on a path to walk, storms on his brows and a hurricane in his steps, there’s nothing in the world that can stop him. 

Gun isn’t any exception.

Still, it’s nice to know that he was at least a temptation. 

Goo dusts off his dustless coat and moves to stand up. There’s still a bottle of soju left in the bag he brought, and he points to it.

“Anyways, I’m actually leaving this time. That’s a gift for you. Have fun drinking alone, loser.” 

Gun snorts. 

“Yeah, thanks. Have fun drinking with your secret friends as well, idiot.” 

Goo smiles, but there’s no mirth behind it. There’s a swirl of other emotions there that Gun can’t quite put a finger on. Sorrow, melancholy, regret, but not wishfulness. They would’ve gotten to this point anyways, no matter what happened. 

“I will.” 

Goo turns to leave. Before he does, he gives a backwards glance at Gun, annoying smile still hanging off his face. 

“Hey,” he begins, and he sounds a little sad. Just a little. “It was nice while it lasted, Gun Park.” 

“Mhm.” 

And Goo walks off into the sunset.

Except–

Gun doesn’t know what came over him, perhaps it was the alcohol again, but whatever painful, ugly, tender thing drove him to kiss Goo the first time drives him to cup his hands around his mouth and shout:

“Kim Joongoo!” he cries after the figure in the distance. “Stay alive until the next time!” 

But Goo doesn’t turn around, doesn’t even acknowledge him. Gun can’t let it just end like this. No, he wants, he–

“Kim Joongoo!”

Did you hear me? 

Can you do that? 

Will we ever meet again? 

(Of course they will. They’re bound at the bones, joined by their flesh and their tendons and by something far greater that won’t ever, ever let them leave the other. Like two stars bound by each other’s gravity, they’ll never truly be able to leave. It’s hard to tell where Gun ends and Goo begins.) 

Goo turns around in the distance, and–maybe it’s a trick of the light– but he smiles back. It’s something small, reserved, and it’s entirely sincere and free of trickery. It’s something Gun thinks only he has ever seen. 

And Goo turns back around and walks off. Gun looks at his retreating form until he is consumed by the snow entirely. 

[llaberration]

I.S.M.I - Chapter Eleven

“Hal?”

“Mhmmm...”

“Hal? Wake up.

“Mmmm?”

“Your eight hours are almost up. Is Deacon still asleep?”

“Whu?” Hal's brain wasn't quite re-engaged yet, and he was puzzled by the words, until a powerful movement of something beside him woke him up fully and he squirmed, arms shooting out to identify his 'attacker.' Of course his hands just bounced off soft flesh and he found himself staring into utter darkness. The movement came again, and he remembered where he was, realising that this had to be Doc's hand. “Ohh... sorry...” he grunted, folding his arms against himself. “Yeh... I'm awake...”

“Is Deacon?”

“No? Should he be?”

“No. I wanted a chance to speak to you freely.”

“Mhmm?” Hal rubbed his eyes, grimacing as this wiped more slime into them. “bou' wha?”

“Your god issue?”

“Mmm? What about it?”

“It's... closer, isn't it?”

“Yeah. I've had to draw on its powers not once but twice lately. Once to get Deacon out of that machine, second time to not die in those sewers.”

“I knew it! You did almost die again didn't you?”

“No, I didn't need to not die die. I needed to repair myself enough to get out. I didn't actually get that badly hurt... it was a preventative measure...”

“Well... whatever you did, it's closer.”

“I know. Every time I use it I steal more of what time it has left...”

“Have you considered just... ending it?”

“Well sort of. But there's a cost to it. When I borrow its abilities, for that time, it gets a grip on me... gets to do all kinds of damage. If I just... tried to take the rest I don't know just how bad it might be. He could do real damage.”

“Okay. Do you have an estimate of how much time there is left?”

“Oh I don't need an estimate, I always know exactly. It likes to tell me like it thinks it's a guilt trip. So... let me think... subtract the eight hours we've lost here... about twelve days. Give or take a few hours and minutes.”

“Oh... that little huh?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you... know what's going to happen?”

“Not a clue. But given everything else I've put up with... it's probably not going to be good?”

“Do you have a plan of any kind?”

“No. At this point it'll be what it'll be. I'm too tired to do anything other than just... accept it.”

“Is that... wise?”

“None of this was wise. Not a damn thing about it right from the start. So I might as well see it through the way I started it.”

“What about Deacon? You have additional responsibility now.”

“Uh, that's a good point. Would you be able to watch him on that one day? I'm already on desk work but I can make it a work from home day, say something about my leg or an appointment or something...”

“I don't think he'll like it. But if you can talk him into it, I can watch him.”

“Okay. Thank you.”

“And that's all the preparation you're going to do?”

“What would you have me do?” Hal shifted his position a little bit. “Do you know what's going to happen? Because I surely do not. How do you prepare for something like this?”

“I... suppose not.”

“Then trust me to deal with it alone, like I have dealt with everything else alone so far.”

“You know you don't have to do that.”

“I know. I'm realising that, and that's a whole thing I am coming to terms with. But it's too late to change things now.”

“And you haven't reconsidered telling the institute?”

“Still in the process of making that decision.”

“Well okay... I just want you to be safe.”

“I know, and I appreciate that.”

The werewolf sighed, the sound echoing gently around him, and Hal knew the man was disappointed this hadn't been more constructive like their first session. He wished he had answers that would set Doc's fears to rest, but at the same time, he barely had answers for himself, so he couldn't do anything to calm the man. It simply was what it was. He exhaled quietly, and turned to gently settle against the werewolf, cuddling in place like settling into a mattress. He knew it felt nice because he knew how it felt when Deacon did that to him, so he was just trying to pacify the werewolf. It seemed to work because Doc fell silent, and two gentle hands came to rest against him. Hal smiled, glad this seemed to have worked, and let himself relax for his last few minutes of peace before the god returned.

The next week was not too bad for Hal, he had expected to be extremely bored on a week of rest, but Blaine kept him fairly entertained, and barely a day went by when he didn't have to take either himself, or the tiny man, into the institute for tests or checkups. Given that, the time went by surprisingly fast. Deacon adjusted more and more to his new size, learning to move around more easily, conquer obstacles and be fearless of navigating his surroundings. He worked with Sayer and the doctors to try and figure out how the process could be reversed, but still persistently refused to be taken out of Hal's reach, particularly by any scientists. He still did not trust them not to decide that he deserved to be an ISMI casefile of his own and try to take him away for study.

Hal's leg began to heal well, and doctors seemed pleased with his progress, enough for him to return for desk work at the end of the week.

For the first week, Blaine had spent most of his time out and about, or hiding in Hal's jacket while they travelled. But as this second week dawned, he withdrew far more back to his hiding spot, worried about being separated from his handler at the institute where, in his eyes, the risks were much higher for him. He spent most of their working day tucked away inside while Hal worked away at research and paperwork admin, finding no reason to complain about his heavy meal. In fact it helped a lot. Into the second week, with only a few days before his 'end date' with the god, it redoubled its efforts to bargain him into finishing a game with it or finding it a different host. After all that time and effort it had put into threatening him and tearing him down, it was a little late for bargaining. Nonetheless, its angry voice still seemed to be quieted by having Deacon settled sleepily inside, the soft little tingles caused by his movements always bringing a pause to the god's relentless voice when they happened. Mostly, Hal put in headphones and used music to drown out the voice as much as he could, counting off the days until it would be over.

At midnight on the final day, Hal was woken, sensing a shift somehow in the state of his mind. He knew for some reason that this was going to be it. The god's voice was so close in his ears it was like it was breathing directly down his neck. He patiently and calmly ignored its now-frantic screeching, despite the pain and headache it was already causing, and bore it quietly until morning, at which point he went to drop Deacon off with Doc. The small man had taken so much persuading to convince to be away from him for a day, but Doc had helpfully backed Hal up, saying it would do him good to get some headspace. He did feel bad as he left the man, a powerful urge to protect him having formed by this stage, but by leaving him, he believed that he was protecting him. He collected a couple of things he had prepared for this, made some last arrangements, and headed home.

“Alright then,” he sighed, as he double bolted the door. “Let's get this over with.”

The god, offended by his apparent apathy, proceeded to give him a nosebleed for his disrespect. Hal didn't mind. He knew it couldn't kill him, and if he could weather this last day of its noise, he would be free of it. He showered, made himself a meal and a coffee and enjoyed that before heading to his bedroom and settling down to wait it out.

Over the following hours, the god bargained with him, begged him, threatened him, bruised him and gave him nosebleeds. Utilising a cold apathy that had been long hardened and calloused onto his personality by self-inflicted isolation and aloneness, Hal ignored it all. There would be time to heal that particular scarring later but for now he weaponised it against his aggressor.

When it grew late and time ticked on towards midnight, Hal felt the god finally pulling out the last stops to try and convince him. He felt it numbing parts of his body, trying to make them move under its willpower, unfocusing his eyes and making him look away from whatever he was doing. The minute it began to exert such control, he put his backup plan into action, locking a chain onto his wrist around the bedframe so that even if the god gained full control, which he genuinely doubted it could do, it couldn't actually go anywhere. He proceeded to lie there, and patiently weather everything the god had to throw at him until the clock beeped midnight. In an instant, the voice was abruptly silenced, leaving a ringing in his ears from its constant abuse, and suddenly the world went dark. The dim light seeping from the window disappeared, the clock face flashing 00:00 was gone, the thin line of light creeping through from the hallway... everything suddenly became nothingness.

Hal sat up, shocked to find his arm was no longer bound, squinting about himself, trying to figure out where he was, but he couldn't feel the bed or even the ambience of the flat. Was he... dead?

“No, this isn't dead. We're just trapped within a moment.”

The voice was very familiar to him, the voice of the god. But now it was different. Calm. Collected. Polite even. It had a soft, unfamiliar accent unlike anything he knew, and spoke in a tongue he did not remotely recognise... and yet understood perfectly. “What?”

“I realise I have some explaining to do. But we do not have a lot of time. There are things you need to know.”

“And why on earth would I want to listen to you? You've been making my life hell for over a year now... you're a bad god.” Hal struggled to understand why he couldn't 'feel' anything. He was sure that he was standing but he didn't know if he was because he couldn't actually feel his own body. Or the floor.

“I know. I am... was... a bad god. My name, as closely as it translates using your alphabet was Slaaneth. I was a god of games, luck and the hunt. And I wasn't always bad. A little fickle perhaps, but you need to understand good and bad are relative terms. You will find they change a great deal more than you would hope based on perspective. But I was not 'bad' at conception... I just became that way.”

Hal squinted, and finally was able to make out a faint, outlined figure... it was of an ambiguous build, dressed in some clothes from a culture he didn't recognise. “So why are we speaking so candidly now?”

“Because I am no longer being tortured by my life force being eaten away. Honestly... you have no idea how painful all that has been.”

“Oh... well. I suppose that does sound unpleasant. Can I... go?” Hal harboured a healthy amount of resentment for the being at this stage, and having a polite conversation, however civil, seemed a lot too little, a lot too late.

“Not yet. There's a handover you see. Things I have to tell you. Rules.”

“Okay...”

“You are inheriting a forgotten goddom. Not an all powerful one. Your lifespan is limited to what you take from gambling with mortals. You have a couple of hundred years leftover from my score, do with that as you will. Second, you may use your power for yourself pretty much all you want, but you cannot use it for others unless they ask, and you grant it to them as a boon. Only active, powerful gods can bless mortals without them asking first.”

“Okay...”

“Some of what I can do, you already know, having helped yourself to it. You can now cheat and win at any game or hunt, and influence luck by giving it or taking it... again, only if someone contacts you first. You can utilise any of my powers that you have already seen and experienced. Healing, regeneration, recovery from death. You have also gained the ability to change your shape. That's a bit limited these days. Once upon a time, before we were forgotten, I could take the form of any predator in the world. Now you get one assigned to you... I don't know if it's random or something with a sense of humour deciding but that's what you get. If you want more shapes to take, there are hoops you have to jump through. If you want to take on the form of say, a great white shark, no problem, but before you will be able to get that form you will need to consume ten pounds of its flesh. Not in one sitting, just over time.”

“Ummm... no thanks.”

“Up to you,” the dark figure gave a shrug, “I'm just telling you the rules. It's up to you what you do with them.”

“You said I have been assigned a form... how do I know what it is?”

“Turn into it and find out. Once you're back in your body of course.”

“And... what else?”

“Assorted other things. You're tougher, more versatile, you will have the reflexes and senses of a hunter but... you kind of already had those from surviving as you did before I came along. You may take on more versatile abilities as you assimilate other forms.”

“Do I have to... do any god stuff?”

“Not really. As an active god you might but we are way beyond that now. You're gonna find you like blood quite a lot now so be prepared for that... oh... yeah and I forgot about the eating people thing. I kinda need to explain that. Honestly I never thought it would come up before you took over the powers but lo and behold it did... so... you know how you feel that... little tingle when you eat him?”

“Yeah....” Hal was sure that his non-body body was blushing.

“That's his life force. You're tasting his life energy. That's why you like it so much. Life force is delicious...”

“That's why you always shut up when I was eating him...”

“That taste never gets old. You'll be tasting it even more strongly now, and everyone and everything has its own unique flavour. He's kind of spicy but some people are sweet... some people are sour... you get the taste from their blood as well but... eating them whole and alive that's the good stuff...”

“You did a lot of that huh?”

“In the old old days when mortals would offer themselves in exchange for a boon yes... a few days of being consumed by a god in exchange for a good season's hunt isn't so bad...”

“Why are you being so polite about all this?”

“I told you. I wasn't always bad. My time made me bitter and angry and that was what you saw. Now... I am just me again, undiluted with all that pain, suffering and resentment. I am myself once more. A brief moment of clarity before the end.” The god almost sounded relieved as they shook their shadowy head. “Now go... live your new life as you will. Figure out your new powers and abilities and use them better than I did.”

“That's a pretty low bar y'know. That's kind of why we're in this mess. If you hadn't been a rampant asshole I'd never have come to stop you.”

“I am well aware, I assure you. However, now you get to try your hand at it, and see if you can be less of a rampant asshole than I was. Give it a few thousand years. Then be sure to take a long hard look at yourself. With the powers you have, you're barely a god... more of a second rate fae...”

“I'm actually fine with that. All I ever wanted was to keep being me so...”

“Then perhaps you will fare terrifically. But our time is up. What lies beyond is calling to me after all this time... and your new self is calling to you.” The shadowy figure gestured a wave of farewell, and with what sounded like a sigh of relief, Hal opened his eyes to find himself on the bed once more. It was still 00:00. The flat was quiet. He was alone. Properly alone. For the first time in over a year he could tell there were no eyes on him. No voice echoed in his ears. He could hear a single car driving past on the road outside, and one of his neighbours' television up just slightly too loud... but that was all he could hear. Normal ambience. Granted he could hear it a little better than before but... the world was quiet and calm. He exhaled a long, slow breath, leaving his lungs empty for a moment before inhaling and discovering the extent of his new sense of smell.

His expression immediately soured. “Ugh. Well. Living in a city with a good sense of smell might not be such a great thing...” he grunted, then give an impulsive little laugh at the sound of his own voice. Just his. Without anything trying to drown him out.

He slowly raised his hands to examine them, finding they looked much the same. His vision had perhaps improved slightly, but his hands were the same as ever... he was still missing good parts of his thumb and finger, and he sensed that was how he was meant to be, he would be as he had been when all this began. He could have regenerated them with these new abilities, but why? He was as he was. And he was okay with that. Besides, people would definitely notice if he suddenly started regrowing digits.

He could feel new abilities within his reach, though he didn't have to fight the god for them any more, they were just there, and he could use them as easily as using any normal thing he could do. His instincts as a scientist told him to investigate these new possibilities thoroughly, but his reservations as an Institute agent told him to be careful.

In the end, he settled for removing the chain on his arm. getting up, and going to the bathroom mirror to make sure he still looked like himself. He did. He needed a shave again, and he looked as tired as ever but he was definitely still Hal.

Reassured by this, the man checked himself over, discovering that he seemed much the same as he ever did. He felt a strange urge to get some tattoos, that was new, and he could smell and hear ten times better than before but otherwise he seemed the same. He felt strangely relieved about that.

He returned to the bedroom and picked up his phone, going to text Doc and let him know, but paused before starting to type. One more scientific experiment before he got back in contact with the world.

He put the phone down and moved back a little. This... 'other form'... business. He had often wondered what it would feel like to be something else... he'd never have a better chance to find out.

Paranoidly checking that the curtains were firmly closed, he took a breath, and reached into his new abilities, searching for this 'other form' with curious caution. He found it, as easily and naturally as flexing a muscle, and activated it.

He grunted as he felt the changes begin immediately. It certainly didn't feel like a dignified, 'godly' change, as there was an immediate crunching sensation in his skull, his teeth moving about and changing shape within his head. He gritted the changing teeth uncomfortably, feeling his spine and hips moving about, forcing him to drop to all fours. His skin felt like it was growing tight on his body, and he realised he was growing, proportionally, a little smaller. His excellent hearing treated him, through migrating ears, to every sound and every creak as his organs sloshed, rearranging themselves inside him, and after a moment or two of rustles and creaks, the sensations stopped.

Hal experimentally opened one eye. Still his room. Good.

He looked down at his hands on the carpet, and was confronted by outsize feline paws. He flexed them, lifting one off the carpet to observe the extending claws, the soft pads, the long, grey-brown mottled hair. Something feline definitely...

But he seemed comparatively small for most big cats...

Moving smoothly and silently, his instincts naturally knowing how to walk on all fours, he padded through the living room to the bathroom, and hopped his front feet up onto the sink to get a look into the mirror.

He calmly observed the creature that looked back at him, a long, tufted ear flicking. “Eurasian Lynx,” he said after a moment, finding that he could still speak, but it was like talking through a mouthful of pudding, his tongue and palate not designed to make these sounds. “Sense of humour after all...” he rolled the sounds with his mouth, trying to practice them. “One of the only apex predators to ever be native to Ireland.” He shook his head, dropping down from the sink, walking experimentally around the flat, lifting his proportionally massive feet unnecessarily high and putting them down with soft stomps. He paused a moment, looking through to the bedroom, he hunched down, tensing his muscles, feeling his entire body coiling like a spring, and then leapt. He cleared the distance through the door, up onto the bed, and almost crashed off the other side, only managing to stop himself by instinctually digging his claws into the bed. He pulled himself upright and frowned as he pulled his claws out of the mattress. “Woops...” he said, padding at the neat semi-circle of rips. “That's the end of that bedsheet.”

He sat on the bed, considering himself. He was alive. He had survived it all and come out the other side. Now he could finally work to conquer the other issues plaguing his mind without a constant voice telling him how worthless he was along with all of his attempts to succeed his goal of helping people. And now, he was starting to develop connections with people again. This was a fresh start, he could just pretend he was normal, nobody had to know about any of this nonsense. The more good he did before they found out, the more amnesty he could receive when he finally did get found out. At least he wouldn't be spouting nosebleeds every time he needed a little luck.

Closing his eyes, Hal focused himself on returning to himself, the transformation just as unpleasant in reverse. He got to enjoy the reverse of all his earlier sensations, until he was left in an awkward sitting position on the bed. He reached up to check his face, then went to the bathroom just to be certain he was all still himself. He was. He sighed a bit in relief, and went back for his phone, sitting down on the edge of the bed and holding the thing quietly in his hand, opening up a message but pausing.

He could just... run. Right now. Nobody was expecting him until 8am at the earliest... that was a seven and a half hour headstart... he could be in another country long before anyone started searching for him... could start a new life where there was no risk of anyone finding out what he was now...

But no.

He could never do that.

Blaine had put such trust in him, made it clear that he trusted Hal with his safety, his care, his very being. He had defended him so vehemently. To leave him now would be cruel and stupid. Hal put a hand to his face for even considering the option, glancing at his bedside table where a small print photo sat, framed. Two much younger figures immortalised many years ago on film. It had been the day after Iewan's final graduation, Hal had booked a boat to go on their first ocean adventure together, and their mother had photographed them standing on the dock, Hal pretending to push Iewan into the water and Iewan was pretending like he was going to fall.

But now the pantomimed look of panic on his brother's face seemed to mock him. 'I didn't run away...' it seemed to say, 'I didn't run when we found out I was infected with one of those monsters. You told me we should but I insisted...'

Hal remembered the conversation so clearly. He had demanded Iewan come with him to hide somewhere until they figured things out. Told him that if he were found, the government would cut him up into little teeny pieces to study the seahorror now sharing his body. Iewan had just grabbed him, and told him in calm, soft words, that if the government could stop this by using him as a test subject then he would gladly die for that. The younger brother had put his elder to shame and called him out for his fear and distrust. Hal, schooled by his baby brother, had sworn greater trust in the future, and to help everyone he could

Hal's eyes stung with tears.

He hadn't wept in years.

The last time he had shed tears was as he helped line up the bodies of twelve men and women outside their camp in Scotland, taken by old snake eyes. The freezing wind had turned the tears to ice on his cheeks. For hours, while he waited for pickup to come and take them away, back to their families, he had cried silently, shoulder to shoulder with other survivors who came in shifts to help him watch the camp. He had cried himself dry, and sworn that snake eyes would never take another life.

Perhaps that was when his apathy had truly begun to set in, to protect him from the things he would see and experience as he followed his quest to help.

It was good to know he could cry again.

He glanced down, and wiped his phone on his shirt to clear it of his tears before tapping in a text to Doc. “It's over. I'm okay.”

They had twisted the truth to Deacon, and told him it was a medical procedure on his leg instead so that he would be willing to tolerate the separation. Neither one of them liked to lie to him but at this point, he wasn't ready to know the truth about Hal, who already regretted telling Doc... but it had helped to get it out, and in this case it had given him a valuable ally to conceal his unusual circumstances.

The phone dinged a response, and Hal raised it to look, smiling a little bit at the words. “We're coming over now,” were there to greet him. A month ago, he would have pushed back anyone trying to come and disturb him in the middle of the night... but right now, he missed Deacon a surprising amount, and he could really use some company to help distract him as he got used to... whatever he was now.

Not twenty minutes later, there came a knock at the door. He opened it up and grinned at the huge form of the werewolf, gesturing for him to come in.

“You're okay!” Doc looked relieved, bending down and seizing him in a hug. “You smell... a bit different,”

Hal choked out a laugh, wriggling to try and get the door shut, “I think I am a bit different,” he confirmed. “Where's Deacon?”

“Oh my goodness he has been a nightmare,” said the werewolf, releasing Hal to allow the man to close and lock the door. “So I put him somewhere his concerns about your wellbeing wouldn't bother him for a little bit.”

Hal felt strangely upset by the thought that someone else had eaten his friend but he choked down the feeling and gave the man a slightly awkward grin. “And how did that go?”

“Not as well as I expected?”

“Oh?”

“He has proceeded to complain, loudly, the entire time,”

Hal chuckled, actually already able to hear the small man demanding to be let out to see him. “Well, I'm going to need him back, he's going to be very upset if you don't let him see me,”

“Oh I plan to,” said the werewolf, gently grabbing Hal and drawing him closer, a predatory look in his eyes. “Wouldn't dream of keeping you two apart.”

Hal let out a chuckle, not fighting the grasp. “Alright... but I might taste a little different now.”

Doc seemed to consider this, drawing him closer and taking a sniff, “You do smell different but... I can tolerate it.” He lowered his voice to almost a whisper as his face was beside Hal's. “I've never tasted god before so let's consider this a scientific endeavour.”

Hal closed his eyes as the warmth rushed at him, relaxing and just letting the werewolf get on with it. He was tired above all else now. He had run for so long on so little rest that he was ready to do some catching up. First though, he had a friend to see to, and he was more eager than ever to greet the little man that had given him a reason to stay and keep doing good.

As warmth enveloped him, and heard the annoyed little voice growing closer and closer, he grinned, readying himself to get a thorough telling off for leaving Blaine.

However, there was no such reaction. As he felt himself sliding into a more open space, he wriggled his arms free and got them up ahead of himself to find and capture his friend before he risked landing on him. “Hal!” exclaimed the man as he got a grip on the small body.

“Hi there,” replied Hal, a little strained as he was still upside down.

“How's the leg?”

“Doing good,” said Hal, gently raising the small man up against his chest as he began to curl into the stomach. “How about you? What's a guy like you doing in a place like this?”

“Well, I was just hanging out you see... when this great brute decided I needed a nap because I was bad tempered and here I am.”

Hal chuckled, letting his legs pile down after him, and carefully pushing himself upright, yawning a bit. “I need a nap too, to tell you the truth... it's the middle of the night, and I did just get eaten by a monster...”

“Yeah it's late! Did you only just get back from your leg thing?”

Hal nodded, “Mhmm, I warned Doc it would be late, but it was a bit later than I thought,” he cradled the small body, “So. How about it? Shall we get some rest?”

Deacon gave a little laugh. “That sure is a polite way to ask if you can eat me,” he gently punched Hal in the chest. “But go on ahead. Seen one stomach, seen em all. We only have a couple more days before we go back in the field and I'd like to spend most of that outside if I can.... buuuuut I can tell you're tired, so, just for tonight I will make an exception.”

Hal smiled, bringing the small man up closer, already anticipating that flavour he now found familiar. “I appreciate that. Mighty decent of you.”

“Just go ahead and eat me already you grumpy fuck.”

Hal grinned, giving the man a gentle lick, getting that first tingle that he now knew to be the flavour of the man's very life force, and chuckling, “Gladly,” he said, opening wide, and starting to push the small body inside.

The god had been right... it was much stronger now. The tingle of energy on his tongue felt positively electric now, and he quickly swallowed, eager to get more of it.

Blaine relaxed into the process now, just trusting Hal to do all the hard work, his small form going limp in the investigator's grasp.

Hal was not put off at all by this, in fact the sensation of trust gave him a rush of enjoyment that augmented the already delicious, spicy taste most perfectly. He swallowed again, the tingling spreading along with the small man's progress, so the sensation did not get any less as he pushed Blaine downwards. Almost too soon, the small feet were slipping between his lips, and he was left alone, his focus turned inwards on the overlarge shape squeezing down past his organs. How had he become so comfortable with this so quickly? He was eating someone... his friend was inside him... it was still insanity to the largest and most logical part of his mind. The other part though, the 'creature comforts' part, told the other brain, at least for now, to shut up and go along with it.

As his friend slid into his stomach, rounding it out against his hands just a little, Hal sighed, licking his lips. What a flavour... what a sensation. He blinked suddenly though, as Blaine moved, his tiny hands squashing into the flesh as he worked to arrange himself into a comfortable position, and Hal felt a sudden jolt go through him. It didn't hurt, but he felt all of the nerves in his legs suddenly tingle as though he would have fallen had he been standing. “What the...” he touched at his stomach, the feeling was gone now but for a moment the small man had pressed on something... sensitive. Hal made a mental note to ask to look into that later when he wasn't feeling so tired.

He let out a quiet, contented yawn, and cuddled down into the soft flesh, a strange little noise vibrating in his throat. He blinked in shock as he realised he was purring, and swiftly stopped himself. Definitely definitely none of that... that would bring up questions. He gave a contented little sigh, and cuddled down in place, his arms wrapped around himself. His foe was conquered, and he was surrounded by friends, maybe his battle was over, and now he could finally focus on the thing he had sworn to Iewan he would do. Help as many people as he could. The world still had so much recovering to do from the incident, and he couldn't help it in the way Iewan had intended for him to, but if keeping people from the things that went bump in the night was his role... then maybe now he was finally equipped to do it.

“Well now Iewan,” he murmured quietly to himself. “I wonder if you could ever have predicted this,” he chuckled, giving Deacon a gentle squeeze, and smiling as he felt Doc stroke at him gently. He looked upwards, “Doc, feel free to use the bed. It's old and creaky but it should be able to cope with your bulk.”

“Bulk?!”

Hal chuckled, gently kicking at the huge man as he felt movement outside. “Just get your ass to bed.”

The werewolf's chuckle rumbled around him as the man walked through to the bedroom and settled with a little groan.

There was a peaceful moment, and all three breathed a sigh of relief as they relaxed. After a moment, Doc spoke once more. “Hal?”

“Mmm?”

“Why does your bed smell like a cat has been on it?”

“Mmm no idea.”

“You don't own a cat?”

“Nope, not since I was a kid.”

“Hal? Is there something you're not telling me?”

Hal smiled smugly to himself as he cuddled down firmly in place and relaxed, closing his eyes, ready for a peaceful and very well earned rest.

----------------------------------------------------------------------- << First || Previous || Masterlist || Next >>

So, the god has finally caught up to Hal, and they have resolved their issues. Now, he just has to pretend as though everything is super duper normal going forwards, and I'm sure that that will never be a problem ever >_>

Come back next time where our boys will return to investigating supernatural shit. And probably more vore. Definitely more vore.

[dynamic-k]

If you're accepting asks for this right now, I've always been curious... do you have colors for some of the villains in the Super Sticks AU? Some colors were probably mentioned and I forgot them, but overall I don't remember all of the villains' colors being revealed.

This ask has been staring at me for quite some time, and I did honestly try much earlier to muster up some brain cells to give an answer-

I am always always accepting asks, it's just a matter of me answering on my own time. Theeeeesss one took me a whhiiile~ sorryy

To be honest, if there are not descriptions in the fic or bonus features, than I just don't have a description.

Sometimes, that's how I write. I have the semblances of a character design in my head, but I am definitely more on the word-oriented side of making an AU.

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I will say that Madame Pop-Up has a pretty heavy design, actually. She was supposed to look a very specific way.

While it might sound strange to hear all at once, that's how it is so deal with it- /silly

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Madame Pop-Up has a creamy-white [with like- barest hint of pink/red] skin with rosier and more prominent pink patches/splotches.

#fffffa, for the creamy white

#e6b3e5 for the rosy pink

Boots: #b80b45 [Ankle boots or higher, take your pick, she could wear either.]

Gloves: (which go about mid arm length) #fc0859

Poppy flower shade: #fc0820

With yellow middle.

She's supposed to be like a glamourous movie star look. I have yet to decide if I want her canon identity to be famous in that way or not, but it is tempting and matches my envisioned style of her to a T. :]

[The patches should look sorta streaky, like thick stripes. Large brush stroke stripes, of a sort? ]

Think a patches cat. Occasional spots, mostly stripes, a bit random but it looks nice because again: she is very showoff-ish and glamorous.

U U

An intimidating movie-star style though. She terrifies Chosen for a REASON, guys-

Oh and Madame has these color eyes: #bf0d52

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Those are pictures I found online that match closely with how I imagine Madame's hair. Take creative liberties or variations if you want. 

Oh yeah, hair color: uhhh

[*digging in my worn cardboard box of hexcodes-*]

#520642

There-

-

Now uh-

I DID try to make a sketch.

...It got a little..

...coffee-d. Q Q

..Oops.

[And no, she doesn't have only one arm, I just- Didn't draw it-]

I BLOWDRIED THE LIVING DAYLIGHTS OUT OF THAT PAPER, WE'RE FINE-

I went back to my initial Arc One description, apparently Madame has a mask. I almost forgot about that: Like I said, I'm more word-oriented and delve deeply into plot.. and leave designs lacking sometimes-

I try my best, I'm glad the Ladybug Brothers have solid designs at least-

I'm gonna work equally hard with how the Color Gang will look in Arc Two, but that's still gonna be a while-

Uhh, the mask is..

You know what- 

I am just gonna explain how the style is. If someone wants to draw my OCs, use the style descriptions and go ham with whatever you deem fitting.

:]

I love all my fanart, no matter the 'accuracy' or whatever. :)

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Uhhm, so let's move on to Mudd.

He is really easy to describe because I spent barely any time making him.

I'd just started the AU and needed some bully guy. And then ended up making him Red's nemesis- By accident-

Okay- XD

Uh.. Mudd has an arm canon on his left arm, and he can use it to funnel his acidic mud wherever he pleases at varying pressure rates.

Due to the acidic qualities, and occasional rocky clumps within the dirt substance, it does pack more of a punch than it might sound.

Mudd doesn't really create mud out of thin air, it's more like he manipulates the dirt around him and makes it into acidic mud via his sweat because I thought the way Bakugo's quirk in MHA worked was epically awesome and took creative liberties-

Then he can manipulate his mud into the arm canon and fire it out quicker than he could utilize effort to thrust it himself. Energy saver.

Uhm. He's a bulky figure. Simple brown-themed costume with maybe occasional black, no cape, generic mask.

There ya go. U U'

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Moving onto the Alcoholic family:

-Vodka and Whiskey, the twins.

-Rum, the mother.

-The Jade Pretzel, the father. [And a british dramatic variant of Jade from A Second's Tale.]

-

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The twins are the thin, wiry sort.

If anyone is familiar with this Junkrat and Roadhog animation for Overwatch:

Junkrat's build is similar to how the twins are. Actually the hair too, a bit, now that I think about it.

It sticks up and outward a little more for Whiskey; the younger of the twins. 

Take creative liberties with the costumes, honestly. 

All I know is that Whiskey is more greener themed, because his abilities are relatable to the nausea effect in Minecraft.

Vodka is more like...

Pinky browny? 

[*more digging in my worn and torn cardboard box of hexcodes-*]

#a36c6c

Have at thee-

O vO'

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Rum is a bit more on the deep purple end of color scheme. With a RUM RED littered about as the complimentary color. She is fairly muscular, and has a stockier build than her sons.

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Now, uh- The Super Sticks variant of Jade-

I found a stick-figure piccrew and made ST!Jade and SS!Jade respectively- [not 100% accurate, but the vibes are present-]

He has a monocle. Canon. You heard it here folks, I HAD to- 

It's got a gold rim, clear glass. 

It's actually attached to his mask, which is green and gold themed, so the monocle doesn't easily get knocked off if he moves too fast or something.

I will.. describe more of him when I actually complete the chapter where the Ladybug Brothers are battling the Jade Pretzel- 

The fight scene eludes me at the moment, so I keep writing more color gang shenanigans for future chapters instead- And probably a good thing too, since the ending homestretch of Arc One really didn't give our Color Quad the spotlight they deserve, so I'm putting more focus on them in Arc Two~

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Uhhh, and that's it..?

[*brain buffering-*]

...Do I need to describe Primal/Prime a little bit since at one point she played a villain role-

-

Okay, yeah, why not~ 

:]

Primal is cool. She's got emo vibes, but is browner/tan themed rather than black or something you'd find on an emo-stereotypical design. 

She prefers practical over stylish canonically, but ends up appearing rather well-designed anyway, in the eyes of others.

And her hair alternates from side, over-the-shoulder braids, to long back-ponytails on a whim.

Yes, Vic has a side braid too, but it isn't that long so it sticks out sideways in the back, and doesn't touch the shoulder.

Primal's hair is also a different length. It's aboooout mid-upper chest. :)

And that, I think, is all. 

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...I really hope I don't immediately remember a villain OC I just forgot to speak of after hitting the Post button-

Thank you for the ask, and I deeply apologize for how long this sat in my Inbox. Fret not, your ask vehemently stared me in the face until I was intimidated enough to gather my notes together and some braincells too-

U U

Have a lovely day~

Edit: Do ignore that gloved hand in my sketch.

...Just ignore that. We all know I can't do hands.

I went powerpuff mitten style purely for some saving grace- XD

[mysteriawrites]

Hi miss ma'am❗️❗️ I'm gonna ask for a Arcane matchup so get ready❤️❤️❤️❤️

for a run down; my names Luna, AFAB girlie and bisexual.

Personality wise, I'm a ISFP if that helps, I'm genuinely more quiet and observant but I warm up to people pretty quick, I like making people laugh and have an almost mom/wine aunt quality to me (witty much? Its all out if love), I'd say I'm a pretty optimistic person overall- I'm willing to listen to everyone and get an idea of other people's pov :)

For appearance, frame wise I'm pretty short (5'1") but plenty of muscle with added lean-curves, with that I do have chubby cheeks, dark brown eyes, pale skin, medium length wavy/curly black hair, i love wearing false lashes and ive got plenty of piercings (most of which I've all done myself), I'd dress pretty casual (I feel like I'd be from zaun) but I love any kind of jewelry (go to: hoop earrings+dangy ones, layered star and hamsa necklace) i thrift a lot of my clothes so I end up with a lot of 2000's-2010's pieces.

hobbies/likes i got; i love pot, if I'm gonna learn to cook/bake you better I can make mean edibles, I like drawing (getting into tattooing soon), i thrift like a menace, listening to music (I like everything but rn I'm really into bôa, jack off Jill, kali uchis, Bjork and Tyler the creator), knitting & crochet, and I used to do sparring/boxing (haven't had much time now).

Hope that's enough info, and remember 2 take your time mama. Xoxo

Hello thx for the request! I got a little carried away lol. Enjoy!

🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁

JINX!!!

You and Jinx have a sort of opposite attracts kind of thing going on. You may be more on the quiet side, but that’s what attracted her to you.

She feels as if you won’t judge her for being who she is and can have an actual conversation with you.

Ever since Jinx came to live with Silco, you and her have been inseparable. Best friends and rulers of the under city.

You protected her whenever Sevika would get mad at her, you would get into hi-jinx (hehe pun) and shenanigans together, you would hold her when the nightmares were too real or the voices were too loud.

However, eventually she started to push you away and shut you out. She was afraid you would leave her old family did and the thought of losing you hurt her more than anything.

And when her sister came back with a strange woman she didn’t know what to think.

You tried so hard to patch things up with her, but you couldn’t seem to reach her. Until the night she almost died.

You screamed and cried and held her in your arms until Silco arrived. When the doctor operated to save her it made you sick to see her through all that pain but you stayed and held her hand.

The first thing she saw when she woke up was you. And that’s how she knew you were the one and vowed to never leave you again.

It was also what gave into part of her decision to lay low after the attack on piltover. She didn’t want to jeopardize your relationship and just wanted a quiet life with you.

After the events of season 2 (we’re gonna pretend no one died) you two start a quiet life in the under city and try your best to make things better.

You, her, and echo work on inventions and fundraisers to help the people of Zaun.

You guys adopted Isha and now she’s your daughter.

You braid and color each other’s hair and isha’s too.

The three you have family baking days. Sometimes you bake edibles but only when Isha’s out with her god mother Sevika or her Aunts Vi and Caitlyn

Yes Sevika is the godmother fight me

You guys get high together on dates sometimes.

Make out while being high.

You spar together which sometimes end in make out sessions.

You teach Isha some self defense moves to protect herself.

You make crochet gifts for your little family and they wear them with pride.

You all go thrifting together and play dress up pretending to be royalty.

You have little dance parties in the street blasting your favorite songs.

You and your wife Jinx shall lead Zaun to a brighter future.