#This man has like some normal fucked up-ness so next to really weird magic fucked un-ness? Sorta seems boring and bland but he’s not.

[hazelcephalopod]

Lil aside. Fully believe Liam is trying to play Orym as a pretty even keel guy with some worries and a lot of loss in his past. I gotta admit tho. Orym often seems real fucked up. He’s got so deep rooted and suppressed issues.

“Replaying Otohan stabbing Keyleth in his head again and again.” Sir?!? You are not ok?!

Remember the petty stabbing of Yu?

[doorsclosingslowly]

They've Made of Our Bodies a Bleeding Stair

Jesper and Kaz try to retrieve Inej from Ketterdam without being recognized and murdered—and without Kaz getting ransomed back to Ravka as the the wayward Sun Summoner.

11k | Sun Summoner Kaz AU pt. 2 | Jesper/Kaz, Inej, past Kaz/Darkling content note: non-linear narrative, explicit sex, roleplay of past rape

“I want you to be him.”

“Of course,” Jesper replies. Then, articulately, once his brain’s caught up, “Uh. What?”

“The Darkling.” Kaz has turned his face away. He’s looking at the ramshackle marriage bed that takes up the bulk of this room he’s lured Jesper into. He unerringly picked the right closed door, too; he skipped the squeaky floorboards, as if he knew the exact layout of this—but it’s Kaz. He knows everything, even some dilapidated house in the Kerch countryside. The bed was probably a masterpiece of craftsmanship, when it was carved from some dark wood, a thousand years ago or whatever. The way it looks, it must’ve been old already when the previous owners of this farmhouse got it, and from the state of the house, they abandoned this place decades ago. Quite a lot of the furniture’s missing, either sold off when the place was left or stolen afterwards, but that bed was too worthless already.

The mattress is still there too. Probably fucking teeming with moth larvae and maggots and their combined accumulated shit, so it doesn’t bode too well for Jesper, how forcefully Kaz is staring at it.

“Please say it doesn’t involve the bed.”

“You said yes,” Kaz rasps, which is all the information Jesper needs to start gagging. Fake-gagging, for now, but if he sees even one wriggly little worm he’ll…

Bed. Darkling. That still doesn’t really… Want you to be him—oh—

“Yes, Jesper.” And how the hell with his ramrod tense back still turned towards Jesper—Jesper, who’s done nothing at all, hasn’t said anything except to register his displeasure at the idea of bathing in insect faeces and their squirming little manufacturers!—how the hell Kaz has realized that Jesper’s figured out what he probably means—it must be a confidence trick. Kaz likes those. But how—yeah, it’s not the point, but trying to understand whatever magic Kaz is using on him right now is much, much better for Jesper’s sanity than dwelling on the fact that Kaz might just have insinuated that he wants Jesper to pretend to be the Darkling, specifically the Darkling from that time he told Jesper about back in the Little Palace, the time he threw up after. The time he thought he could suppress his discomfort with touch long enough to seduce the Darkling into a partnership—seduce seduce, which means he wants—to flirt with Jesper? To sleep with Jesper? Is he actually saying he—

Oh. There’s a cracked mirror on the wall above the bed. That’s how Kaz saw his face.

Jesper would chalk the hallucination up to a hangover, but he’s not even drunk. Neither is Kaz, unless this old ruin of a farmhouse they broke into this morning is hiding barrels of wine the local youth haven’t made off with yet. Also, if he was hallucinating Kaz propositioning him he would—well, Jesper at least hopes he’d have enough self-respect not to make himself a stand-in for the man who bought and imprisoned Kaz for two years, controlled him by using his fears and modifying his body and cutting him off from every other person in the whole court, taking every single object he could have used to protect himself, and whatever those weird spines in Kaz’ chest are he’s probably responsible for them too. Jesper would not, actually, like the first and probably only time he’s allowed to kiss Kaz to be some kind of revenge-by-proxy thing where he recites the Darkling’s lines while Kaz swallows back bile, and then Kaz beats him up. Or murders him. It’s pathetic, but Jesper always imagined that kiss a little sweeter. Kissing over Haskell’s corpse. Kissing over the Darkling’s corpse. Kissing over the corpse of some other piece of shit who’s stupid enough to try using Kaz as their possession.

“Just warning you, I don’t have the costume or the script, so don’t expect something worthy of the Komedie Brute,” is what Jesper says instead.

Kaz’ eyebrow quirks. “You’re acted before, haven’t you? Improvised. You can flirt your way into anything. That was the main reason I kept you around.”

“You kept me around because I’m gorgeous, funny, and an incredible shot. I just play myself, if it’s seduction! Why would I improve upon perfection?”

“This isn’t seduction. He’s already locked me in the Little Palace for months at this point. Two escape attempts have failed. This is… speeding up the process,” Kaz says, nonchalantly enough it makes Jesper want to puke.

Which won’t help anything. He’s already agreed. And Kaz doesn’t care about moral objections, only practical ones. “I need more info. I haven’t actually met the Darkling.”

“You’ve met powerful men. You’ve met men who believe their righteous cause entitles them. You’ve met men mired in greed and vengeance—you’ve met me.”

“I like you.”

“Pretend you don’t, then. You used to complain about me in the Slat—of course I know, I knew everything that went on in the Dregs. You hated the way I seemed to know everything, and held it over you—so does he. You disliked my single-minded focus, the way you all seemed like pawns to me, my mockery. The way I held myself as something far superior to you. That’s a start.” Kaz limps a slow quarter circle around Jesper, and his dark eyes are burning with loathing. Jesper would hold him if he could. “You’re not asking why?”

“Uh, now that you mention—”

“I’m not going to tell you.”

Jesper sighs. Of course. He’s never expected anything else. Then he stands up straight, assuming his best the stick in my ass is so long it’s knocked the word fun from my brain pose that hopefully may pass for authoritative and slimes out, “What business, Mr Brekker?”

“Sun Summoner. Or Sunshine. He figured out Brekker’s a fake name on the first day.”

“Kaz Brekker’s a fake name?!” Jesper should have seen that coming, really… what does he even know about Kaz Brekker, truly? Except—

“It’s a name. It’s real enough. It’s feared. It’s mine.” Kaz’s eyes travel over the cobwebbed wall of the farmhouse bedroom, as if he was searching for the next lie to spin. Except that isn’t one of Kaz’ tells—Jesper’s seen him bamboozle and convince marks of the most stupid tales, and when Kaz wants them to believe him, he looks earnest. Young, depending on the role he plays, old, eager, stupid or wise. He doesn’t bother lying to Dregs, or rather: he doesn’t bother convincing them, usually. All his words are backed by the brutality of his cane. Who could be stupid enough to question even his weirdest utterances. “It just happens not to be one I was born with.”

“So what you’re saying is, the Darkling’s just not Kerch enough to get you?” Jesper grins. “Ketterdam, really—you know, I always really liked that about the Barrel, that healthy dose of ‘You are who you want and we don’t give a fuck to correct you.’ Anyway. Got it. You’re Kaz Brekker, but he’s a dick. Mr Sunbeam, what brings you into my office this evening?”

“The fete, Aleks.” Kaz shrugs off his coat, and then the purple kefta, too. He holds out the kefta in front of him, like he’s expecting Jesper to put it on. Well. That’s as good a start as any, and so Jesper turns and lets Kaz dress him into the robe he never wanted to wear.

“Then he says, ‘You must be nervous. After all, there are few gatherings in the Ketterdam slums that involve such spectacle.’” Kaz has sanded down his rasp somewhat, sounding almost smooth and seductive. He goes into a spiel of the Ravkan court and the inferiority of the Barrel that thankfully, he carries all by himself. Jesper wouldn’t even know what to say, except ‘Stop talking shit about the Barrel, you prick’ and that’s not exactly in character.

Kaz’ eyes periodically dart down to Jesper’s hands, and he realizes he’s fidgeting with the hem of the kefta’s sleeves. He stops.

“I am ready,” Kas says in his normal voice. His normal talking to a mark voice. “I realized what this demonstration represents—that I belong to something greater. It is as you said—we can offer Grisha and Ravkans hope. We. Together.” He stands up straight. Equally on both his legs. He winces. He’s not holding his cane, Jesper realizes. He’s not wearing his gloves. “I am ready to stand by your side. We should be partners. The Sun and the Dark.”

“Uh… great. We’ll be great together. Do great things. Better partners than enemies. Some of those rumours even freaked me out, you know—that kid with the wind-up toy in his throat—”

“Think before you speak, Jesper,” Kaz hisses. “Never let me lead. Never give me control. Every word is a cue to corral your prey where you want it—whether a compliment or a barely-there hidden threat.”

“Is that what you do?”

“Sometimes.” Kaz meets Jesper’s eyes. The tense mask of his face breaks into a smirk. “To be honest, I find the subtle craft of manipulation is wasted on you. You’ll obey anyway. Let’s go back to the start, and focus.”

Jesper shrugs off the kefta again and then lets Kaz dress him, again. He does his best imitation of Kaz, of that early Kaz before Jesper learned how he takes his coffee and before he saw the brutal twist of his face, that one time when the Dime Lions had Jesper on his knees and shoved a gun in his mouth. He plays the imperious tactician in his office who told his goons to drag Jesper up four flights of stairs with a bag over his head, ready to be shot for his debts, and then sold him on the one thing that gave his life meaning.

He insults Dirtyhands’ father and mother to his face, and gets really into it, too: Ketterdam’s full of idiots who’d miss the love of their life because they were busy trying to pry cobblestones off the streets to sell for half a sausage, and the harbour’s so filthy even the fish won’t fuck in it—keeping the brothels in good fish-ness, haha. Because the fish rent rooms so they don’t get fishy sex diseases from the water. Do fish get diseases from sex?

“Kill me now,” Kaz moans, and that one’s probably deserved.

“Anyway, my Sun Summoner, I’m sure you’ll perform well,” Jesper says with just the tiniest hint of slime.

“I am ready. I realized what this demonstration represents—that I belong to something greater. It is as you said—we can offer Grisha and Ravkans hope. We. Together.”

Jesper moves slowly, idly: not caging him in against the bed yet but definitely implying he can and will.

“I am ready to stand by your side. We should be partners. The Sun and the Dark.” Kaz swallows. “‘That means a lot to me. You mean a lot,’ is what you say now.”

How come the Darkling’s not constantly slipping on his own slimy slime trail?

“That means a lot to me.” Jesper gives Kaz a deep, smouldering look. The pockmarks on his cheeks. The jumping muscle in his jaw. The hint of a pained grimace from standing unaided. The boyish grin when he’s totally fucked over another gang boss and gets to gloat. The vicious hatred when someone touches his Crows. Licking powdered sugar off his gloves. “You mean a lot.”

And that’s it. The way Kaz looks at him—this is when the Darkling makes his move.

“I have been waiting for you for so long,” Jesper purrs smarmily, closing his eyes, moving in for the kiss, and—Kaz isn’t there anymore.

It was a single step backwards, because Kaz has hit the edge of the bed already, face blotched with humiliation, and the way he looks at Jesper is—angry is the least terrible interpretation. If he backs out now, Kaz is going to kill him for pitying him or catering to a weakness that honestly—how is not wanting this weak? But Kaz is Kaz, and Jesper’s just Jesper, and—

“Focus,” Kaz hisses. “You own Ravka. You will own the Sun, too. You have waited for this triumph—take it.”

“Why don’t we take this to the—” fuck you, Brekker, for making me say this— “bed, then? Take off your clothes. Don’t be scared.”

That’s a good dig. The kind of insult that looks super caring, unless you know Kaz enough to understand he sees any crack in his image as a dangerous failure. Jesper’s getting the hang of this malicious flirting thing, finally. When this is over, he’ll need to scrub the slime off himself twice.

Kaz looks at Jesper while he disrobes. At him, Jesper hopes against hope, at the real person he’s roped into his worst scheme yet with a goal that’s still totally obscure; at Jesper and not the asshole he’s imagining in his place. Kaz’ eyes trace his cheeks, dance over his shaved head, catch on the lips.

Jesper takes off his boots and gun belt, and the kefta. He undoes the fly of his trousers, pulls his dick out, and stops. He glares at Kaz, daring him to object to the attempt at making this slightly less miserable—Jesper’s the Darkling, he’s in charge, so Kaz can fuck off with his masochism. He’s done undressing. He’s not taking off his shirt or trousers. That layer of cloth stays on.

But Kaz doesn’t object. He stands up straight, naked, brittle, wincing, and then glancing away he mutters, “Ignore the antlers. He hadn’t done that yet.”

Fucking Darkling.

The antlers stick out of Kaz’ collarbones, uneven tines of—possession, mutilation, and Jesper’s eyes catch on a tiny set of grooves on the left one. The scabbed-over cuts underneath. The bruise from the gunshot. And even despite that horror, Kaz has a nice chest. Serious muscle, a street map of scars and a smattering of dark hairs—it feels weirdly improper to stare at him, so Jesper’s eyes dance down to his knobbly left knee and the softly twisted right thigh with its knots of scars, up to the face where he’s biting his harsh pretty mouth, and down again. His dick is nice, fat but not too long, rooted in a tangle of dark curls.

It’s utterly limp.

It’s pathetic, how much that hurts. Of course he isn’t into this. Of course he doesn’t find Jesper remotely attractive. Of course this is just some weird masochistic proxy powerplay for him, some attempt to prove he’s stronger now and can bear it or whatever the fuck, and Jesper’s just the sad stupid body he’s using to enact it.

And of course not even that is enough to make Jesper bow out. Kaz asked.

“Do you want me to suck you off first? Get you in the mood, even a little?” It’s not just for Kaz, that offer, though the whole thing will probably be less painful and awkward if he manages to coax out some arousal. It’s not for younger Jesper, who fantasized about being ordered to blow his boss as penance more often than he likes to admit. No, this is so Jesper can bury his face in Kaz’ pubic hair for a minute. And cry.

Kaz raises an eyebrow. He sounds arch and ice cold when he asks, “Jesper, do you think the Darkling would suck my dick?”

“He should have. Saints, what an asshole,” Jesper shoots back before he can think. “You need a better class of lovers.”

“By which you’re of course implying that you are much better than Aleksander Morozova, the General Kirigan, the Black Heretic, eternal Conqueror and crowned Emperor of Greater Ravka, Salvation to Grishadom, Master of the Fold and He who chained the Sun, et cetera and so fucking on and so fucking forth the Darkling himself?”

“Given I just offered you a blowjob without bringing useless power shit into it, yes.”

“Wrong data, incoherent formula. Correct answer.” Kaz’ grin is crooked. Inordinately fond, and Jesper would have settled for no longer desperately hiding terror but this is—

Yeah.

“I’m going to try to make this roleplay as realistic as I can, but I don’t know if I can forget enough about how to have sex to sink to the Darkling’s level. Also, you don’t happen to have the address of that Grisha Tailor who mutilated you back there? I need them to make my dick look weird. Corkscrew, maybe. Some warts. It’s probably green. I’d peg him for advanced neurological syphilis but I am about to sleep with you, so— ”

“Did you know, Jesper, that the Darkling always wears a gag when he has sex?”

“Shutting up now, boss.”

“Don’t shut up,” Kaz replies instantly. Very, very instantly. “Just keep your disparagements somewhat plausible. And… rare.”

Only to jolt me back, he’s asking. “Got it. So I guess I’m supposed to loom over you a little? How close do you want me?”

“I’ll need to—” Kaz turns around and bends over to root around in the pockets of his coat, and it’s even weirder, worse, looking at his ass when Jesper knows Kaz doesn’t like him back. Kaz tosses over a tiny bottle. Oil. “Give that to me. Tell me to prepare myself.”

“Just saying it once more, boss. You don’t have to go through with—”

“Stop thinking about the Kaz Brekker you know,” Kaz hisses. “Stop anticipating my reactions. Stop caring. You are the Darkling. You have been waiting for the Sun Summoner for decades. You’ve formed your picture of them. This delinquent flinching little rat you bought doesn’t quite fit, not his limp, not his fear of touch, not his pathetic need to assert himself, but, well… you have time. He’ll learn how to make himself fit into the space you provide him. He’ll become your Sun Summoner.”

“Have I told you yet that I’m going to kill that piece of shit?”

“You’ve mentioned it, once or twice. In the last hour.”

Jesper bares his teeth: a grin, but not. A promise. “Good. I’ll hold his mouth open while you stuff him full of black powder and set him on fire.”

“Stop stalling, Jesper. That won’t make it any easier.”

That won’t make it not have happened.

“If you’re sure this will help.”

Kaz nods.

“Lie down on the bed, then. Is there a—no, no pillows here, roll up the coat and slide it under your hips.” Jesper turns his face away, listening to the timid, stuttering squelches of Kaz stretching his asshole. Jesper doesn’t know what would be worse: if, after everything, he can’t get it up… or if he can.

Well. He’ll have to. His dick will just have to obey the dictates of the situation, just as Kaz’ body was made into the Sun Summoner. He’s young. He’s still looking at Kaz Brekker, Dirtyhands, naked, who asked Jesper to sleep with him, and that’ll have to be enough. They’ve gotten this far. They’ll force their way through. That’s how you do it. That’s how you gamble. How you lose big. Kaz might have once tried to explain to him something about sunk costs and throwing good money after bad, but Jesper ignored him that night and lost a hundred and twenty kruge to Specht, and he’s never looked back.

“Okay, Mr Sunshine. Let’s consummate our fucking partnership,” he grinds out when Kaz has gone quiet, takes the bottle to slick up his own uncooperative dick, and carefully, he climbs on top of Kaz. The clothes were a good decision: Kaz barely flinches when he kneels in-between his legs and pulls the sleeve over his hand to carefully guide his right knee to rest on Jesper’s thigh.

Kaz is staring up at his face, breathing, just breathing. The antlers in his collarbone frame his bright face—brighter than the candles should allow, like maybe—and his focus is rigid and he’s breathing, breathing quickly—

“Is this teaching you anything yet?”

“Not really,” Kaz rasps, after too long. “Or—I think—maybe it was—” he glances at Jesper’s pathetic, unhappy limp dick. His face twists. “I thought you were into me.”

This is— “I love you. Kaz Brekker, whoever you are. I don’t give a fuck about this Sun Summoner bullshit. I love you. I love you,” because this is—Jesper can’t do this. He can’t. His elbows are locked: he can’t drop his body any lower. He can't go lower than this. “I love you,” until it’s finally over. “I love you. I love you.”

☼

“And I’m telling you again, I don’t know what he does Tuesday evenings,” Jesper hisses.

“You were still with the Dregs, three months ago!” Kaz is wiping his cane clean. It didn’t even really get dirty—they mostly used kitchen knives to do the deed, and in the case of a maidservant who unwisely came to work in the middle of the night, a bullet that Jesper’s already collected and reshaped into something functional, because he might not get to buy new ones. Desperation. Frugality. The Kerch are rubbing off on him. It’s good, though. The fact he’s cleaning the wood is all the confirmation Jesper will likely ever get that Kaz does like the new cane Jesper made him from a cute straight rowan sapling, reinforced with the metal scavenged from all but the most essential buttons on their hodgepodge of clothes. At least there’s one thing of Jesper’s he values. “How can you not know the behavioural patterns of your boss? Are you that brainless?”

“No-one knew what he was up to! He barely came by the Slat. He wasn’t that interested in us.”

“You worked for Per Haskell, Jesper; you worked for that man for years—for nearly as many as I did, when you ran off to Ravka—and now you attempt to convince me you barely know his name?” Kaz still doesn’t look quite as harsh as he used to, or maybe that’s just Jesper hankering for their past. Well, he didn’t used to explain his plans to Jesper as if he was an imbecile—but then, he didn’t used to need Jesper. He had more stooges back then. Now, he only has one. Ally. Friend.

If it’s as weird for him, though, as it is for Jesper being back in Ketterdam after he didn’t die on his revenge suicide plot and the city didn’t, either—well, he might still get murdered for stealing the Sun Summoner or skipping out on debts or something completely unrelated, and Ketterdam’s… well, she’s weathering having her ruling class torn apart twice in short order, once by the Darkling’s conquest and now, by the slow collapse of the Darkling’s overstretched realm after he’s lost his saint/weapon/doll.

The Barrel’s fine—as glary and miserable as it ever was, anyway, but though Kaz would probably insist most of the Mercher’s Council had their hands in gang business one way or the other, their reach was indirect, mediated and secretive enough for the chaos tearing up the Geldstraat not to trickle down as quickly into the slums. And anyway, the involvement of the merchers only ever made life worse for most people. The plight of the rich can only be a blessing.

Right now, they’re inside a nice place in the Zelver district. Close enough to power to feel the death throes, and even disregarding the political manoeuvring and debris and panic everywhere, just looking at the house from the outside made Kaz twitchy, somehow.

His energy almost matched Jesper’s trigger finger.

It’s Haskell’s house, so that unease makes sense.

Haskell’s expensive secret new house far outside the Barrel that they’re despoiling now. They looked as out of place in the beautiful Zelver district as any Barrel rats, with their heads shorn close to the bone so they’ll look different enough to not get recognized and faces wiped with dirt, dressed in a melange of Ravkan clothes they haven’t found a chance to replace yet and tawdry Barrel flash for everything else.

Kaz was wearing two coats when he entered the house, an old rose and amber paisley trench that even Jesper admitted is hideous, though now it’s splattered with blood that actually really ties the colour scheme together. Still gross though, and luckily slung over the chair. Along with the purple kefta Kaz hid underneath, the one he still hasn’t given back. Or burned, which is what they did to the other Ravkan overcoats. On the streets his two coats bulked up his frame so much he looked like a kid that Jesper’s never met, dressed up to play a gangster’s role. He looked nothing like the Sun Summoner anymore, and only somewhat like Jesper’s imagined baby Dirtyhands crawling out straight from the harbour, fifty kilos sopping wet and ready to kill a man and feast on his entrails.

Now, he’s stripped down to a ruffled red shirt over a green undershirt—he conspicuously shunned the yellow one next to it on the washing line—and light blue pinstripe trousers. The shirt is a little large in the shoulders, and he’s cuffed the trousers. They stole everything from a cottage on the edge of Ketterdam. Not quite Barrel flash, but almost—alike in style but with better fabric, something a town edge kid probably bought to look like a cool gangster. Or something Jesper would have bought to look special for a very special date. If he squints, he can almost imagine—it’s the morning after, and—

Ever since the Little Palace the idea of Kaz naked has totally lost its lustre. The idea of his muscular but scrawny, scarred chest, his wiry tattooed arms, his ambiguously demonic hands—it’s all overlaid now with a flimsy ugly sleeveless yellow paper taffeta gown. With normal hands, kept bare as humiliation.

But maybe—maybe they sat together, not on a log in a forest but on a sofa this time, and then in the morning Kaz was cold and he stole all of Jesper’s clothes to wear over his own. That’s much better. (Maybe he just wanted Jesper naked all day…)

Jesper won’t let the Darkling steal his fantasies, too. They’re—

Ouch. Fucking ouch.

Jesper really shouldn’t have added tiny spiky worms to the side of the cane, but Kaz’ indignation was just too funny.

“Let me make this clear—” Kaz rasps, once he’s regained Jesper’s full attention. Half-full. ‘Like he’s plundered Jesper’s wardrobe’ is still such a good look on him. “We are both hunted. Neither of us can afford to be caught outside on the streets of Ketterdam and let whoever saw us live. If we’re going to make Haskell’s house our temporary base of operations, we need to make his death as inconspicuous as possible. We cannot safely anticipate which of his visitors to eliminate and which to fool unless we know whether they, in turn, may be missed.”

“Well,” Jesper mutters. “Mitki might come by. If the neighbours don’t chase him off.”

Kaz raises a single, dirt-encrusted eyebrow.

“Mitki’s the newest lieutenant. Might have made it this—”

“Not Anika? I can understand why a flake like you didn’t rise in the Dregs ranks, but she—”

“Ambush. Dime Lions, five weeks after you disappeared.”

“Rotty?”

“Slit throat. Still no clue who did it.”

“Specht? Pim? Neeta? Big Bol?”

“Razorgulls, knife, last year. Bullet to the head, same day. Hellgate. Hellgate.”

“Muzzen? Ruk? Keeg?”

“Another ‘Gull stabbing, just before I left. Hellgate, again. Keeg just disappeared, though. Might still be alive somewhere over the True Sea, if he’s clever. Not that he was, he’s probably floating, poor sod.” Jesper shrugs. After a while, it just gets too much: the beginning of the Dregs’ end is seared into his brain, but there aren’t enough synapses for the tenth—or fiftieth—dead friend to hurt as much. “There’s a reason why I didn’t think twice about running when I lost those fifty thousand. Like I said, boss, it’s been a shitshow since you left. Haskell never wanted for new ones, since he got his kids fresh off the street, but he just stopped giving any shit whatsoever, and since you weren’t there to pick up the slack… well, I can see why he didn’t care, now.”

Jesper spares a bitter look for the mountain of kruge next to Haskell’s foot, the mountain he offered Kaz as soon as he saw him, long before Kaz even tried to hack off both his hands and feet with a dull meat cleaver. Long before Kaz had to settle for cutting down to the bone and then wrenching Haskell’s extremities from their sockets by sheer force of hatred, while Jesper puked into the kitchen sink. The mountain he’d never have amassed as the boss of a gang as shambolic as the last years of the Dregs.

The mountain that’s going to pay off Inej’s indenture tomorrow.

Haskell allowed her to rot there. It’s only fair he pays for her freedom with his life.

“Everyone we could use is gone. And you…” Kaz tips Jesper’s chin up with his cane. The world shimmies a little. “You, of all the old Dregs, survived.”

Jesper shrugs again. This is too much to confess to Kaz, of all cruel bastards, probably far too much, but—they’re sitting in the living room of Jesper’s former boss, the man who sold Kaz out to the Darkling and used the prize money to live in luxury, while letting his gang die on increasingly pointless ill-planned errands. The other end of the table is still flecked and puddled with slow-drying blood—not to mention the corpse, or corpse-pieces, laying there—but over here, they have a bottle of expensive whisky they found in a cabinet and they’re trading swigs from the bottle, all bitter and clean.

“I didn’t take it too well, when you and Inej just disappeared, and then my friends kept dying. Might have gone on a couple of benders. Might have lost some games. Might have lost some fights. Might have had some sexual encounters with people who turned out to be massive creeps. Consequently, I may not have been technically around to be asked to go on some of these errands, or perhaps I just didn’t notice because I was drunk.”

“Jesper.” Kaz doesn’t even sound surprised. Wow. Thanks for having faith in me, boss.

It’s not really that humiliating, though, now he’s said it out loud. He spent two years making bad decisions and occasionally braiding Inej’s hair. Kaz spent that time getting turned into a doll. Who can say what’s worse? He takes another deep gulp and grins. “You know me, boss. I need some external structure in life. I really need a commandeering asshole dragging me into his schemes to be my best self.”

“And yet, you outwitted the Darkling.”

“That wasn’t difficult, to be fair. Tell them I’m Grisha, search the Little Palace, shoot Kaz Brekker in the head, get executed…” Jesper trails off. When the silence grows teeth, he takes a pull of whisky that’s so desperate it makes him cough, but Kaz is still letting him stew.

They don’t really need to talk about it, though. No value in going over what happened in the Little Palace. No value in discussing anything. Everything is fine now. Yes, Jesper did want to kill Kaz. Yes, he’ll die for Kaz.

And they both know why.

Kaz steals the bottle. It’s incredible, actually, Jesper was just holding it—well, maybe he’s a little more drunk than he thought, but Kaz would probably like being complimented on his pickpocketing. “I didn’t even see you steal that bottle,” Jesper says.

“I’d be angry you’re drunk,” Kaz rasps. “But you’ve been completely useless at all stages of the current plan so far. And the previous one, by your planning—I always forget, in my amazement at what you accomplished, that you failed.”

He says that, but his cheeks are flushed pink with alcohol. His pupils are wide when he looks at Jesper. He raises the bottle to his lips and tips his head back, swallowing what should have easily been ten more swigs of whisky. Thieving bastard.

☼

When Jesper awakes on Haskell’s second softest chaise longue in the receiving room—neither of them was particularly eager to climb into Haskell’s bed, and, in Jesper’s case, not particularly still able to walk up the stairs either—his mouth is dry, his bladder full and the light is poking his brain even through closed curtains and eyelids. And Kaz—he searches the whole house after finishing his business, but yes, it’s true—Kaz is gone.

So are his cane and his current Barrel flash coat and the kefta, which means Kaz is probably safe. Well. As safe as the escaped Sun Summoner can be. Not kidnapped, at least. More alive than anyone stupid enough to cross Kaz’ path.

He’s taken Haskell’s kruge, and left a note.

In Kaz’ sharp hand, the note reads, “STAY.”

It’s underlined three times, and on the back side Kaz has written, “or you will die,” which to be fair is pretty ambiguous.

‘Die’ as in, ‘I mistrust your competence and assume you’ll get yourself killed if you move a finger?’ Or as in, ‘I’m warning you I won’t go out of my way to save you?’ Perhaps it’s a straightforward ‘Disobey and I am going to personally murder you and piss on your corpse?’ All are very real possibilities, knowing Kaz.

To really understand the message, Jesper needs to get into Kaz’ mood when he woke up—hungover, but how much? Enough he hates the entire world, or so much he hates Jesper more? Also, his current way of thinking. Jesper’s usefulness. A point in favour is the fact that Jesper saved him from a fate worse than death, but on the other hand, Jesper forgot to extract a deal from him and Kaz is so Kerch it hurts, which means he’s pared down solidarity and reciprocity and love into exchange, into deals, and all Jesper’s offering are the first three. They shared a bottle of whisky next to the corpse of their old boss, though, and in general Kaz looked like he was having fun more than once on their dirty, miserable long trek out of Ravka. Way more fun than he had in the majestic Little Palace. Also, Jesper’s incredibly likeable. He’s beautiful and funny and stupidly in love with Kaz without asking anything in return, so really it only makes sense that Kaz has finally succumbed to his charm.

(He dug his hand into Jesper’s hair, that night on the fallen tree and twice afterwards, but—maybe that was only to make Jesper squirm.)

Well, he enjoyed Jesper’s company while they fled from Ravka to Ketterdam, at least. That’s the crux of it.

So why would Kaz anticipate that Jesper might want to run anywhere? There’s a well-stocked kitchen here. A far more sensible assumption would be that Jesper might want to make some waffles or go on a morning jog. No, not that one. Enjoy a lavish breakfast. Have a bath, perhaps, after spending two weeks crawling through the Ravkan forest and the Shu countryside and stowed in the belly of a wine cargo ship and then countryside again, this time Kerch. Jesper’s feet hurt just thinking about it, and that Kaz managed to get here, even at the half-speed they settled on, speaks to—well, the same bull-headed masochism as always, but the fact he still refused to even consider stealing a cart or horse or approach any larger settlement before Ketterdam means he must be even more terrified of the Darkling than Jesper can imagine. He refused to leave any trace whatsoever. (And yet he’s back in Ketterdam, the one city in the world he was connected to before the Little Palace, because…?)

Ketterdam is the only city, village, collection of buildings and people they’ve been to for weeks, which means it’s the first chance Jesper has to gamble, but—even he knows not to stake anything on the possibility there’s someone left in the Barrel who doesn’t know about Jesper Fahey, he who owes Pekka Rollins fifty thousand kruge and just skipped town, kill immediately with extreme prejudice.

Well, Rollins is dead now—the only gang boss courageous or aggrieved or hungry enough to try and covertly resist the Darkling, go figure—but whoever’s head Lion now probably won’t even let Jesper try to spin an argument about how he really owes that money to ‘Pekka Rollins’ Dime Lions’, not any successor organizations. No such luck, and anyway, people stupid enough to bounce on their debts are fair game to any gang in the Barrel. They don’t cooperate on much, not even for mutual benefit, but murdering dishonest gamblers? That’s a team sport.

Jesper’s last recklessly suicidal plan worked out fantastic, so maybe he should find a card table. His luck’s turned. He could win millions.

Which Kaz definitely would anticipate, and warn him away from. Kaz is a buzzkill. Just because Jesper’s going to get murdered on sight in the Barrel…

Because Jesper’s gonna get murdered on sight in the Barrel.

If Kaz wants to rebuild his status in the Barrel, there’s no bigger liability than Jesper. And Kaz wants to, surely. He worked his way up inside the Dregs carefully and diligently, spent more time than anyone sane would inside a tiny attic office adding up numbers, and sucked up to an utter piece of shit like Haskell, just so he could one day become a Barrel boss. And now, to rise again, he has to cut off the dead weight.

Which means Jesper.

That’s why he left.

It’s not even a betrayal. They don’t have an agreement for life after reaching Ketterdam, let alone one that says Jesper can follow him forever and ever just like in the good old days. Inej—but Inej’s actually useful to a new Barrel boss, as soon as her indenture’s paid. Jesper’s the weak link here. Jesper’s screwed.

Which doesn’t mean he won’t go down fighting. He knows the way to the Menagerie—the quickest way, the scenic route, the paths least commonly trafficked by Pigeons and the ones usually avoided by staadwatch or gangsters. He knows Kaz well enough to guess which one he’s taken. If he hasn’t woken too late—and by the sun’s position, it’s still early in the morning—then he has a chance to pass Kaz off and… insult him? Beg? Cry? Sell his father’s soul for a position in the new Dregs? Maybe he’ll just have to wear a Komedie Brute mask for the rest of his life and it’ll be fine. He’ll figure it out later.

Jesper draws his shoulders up to his ears while he scurries through empty alleyways, the collar of his fancy pseudo-Barrel flash coat turned up. He’s almost glad that Kaz made him go hatless and shaved bald—thoroughly unstylish and un-Jesper enough he might survive the morning—but there are drawbacks to the disguise in the damp chill.

Also, the disguise isn’t good enough. After some minutes, Jesper notices that some clusters of metal stay at roughly the same distance to him. Eight clusters of—round, small, definitely mostly kruge with a few Ravkan coins thrown in. Thirteen guns. A rifle. Two of the coin clusters are fairly close together and move in unison. Jesper’s dealing with seven shadows, then.

That’s—a lot.

Jesper’s had a little more training being a Durast now, but what he could really use now is combat training. He hasn’t even been in a battle in over a month, unless you count handing Kaz knives while he carves up Per Haskell, and since Jesper had to puke right after, you probably shouldn’t. He’s fought rabbits. Jesper’s sure fought some rabbits in Ravka. Two deer, too.

He could probably escape his pursuers. It would take time, though, time Jesper doesn’t have when Kaz is leaving him behind without a word. He’ll just have to kill them quickly.

At least there’s one of his favourite surveillance detection routes nearby. One of the rare aboveground tunnels in Ketterdam, not used by Pigeons for obvious reasons of creepiness and also because it just leads to a big courtyard behind a factory: a courtyard that’s easy to escape, when you know the gate’s lock is broken. Kaz showed it to him, just weeks after Jesper got recruited, after the second time the ‘Gulls got the drop on him and beat him to a pulp. In the courtyard, he made Jesper shoot some sparrows and some pigeons to prove his worth. Not crows, though, and for a year Jesper believed that detail was just thrown in to test whether Jesper would obey nonsensical orders. It’s still a plausible explanation.

He’ll just have to ask Kaz, after he begs him for a role in the new Dregs. After he kills these seven pursuers.

If.

He catches the first man off-guard and blows his head off when he exits the tunnel, but after that, it’s a stand-off. Jesper, hiding behind a massive wood barrel for cover, against six men ducked into the mouth of the tunnel.

Jesper manages to pick off another man by firing into the tunnel and blindly redirecting the bullet into the first nook, but the second attempt at using that trick doesn’t hit anything, and neither does the third. He has eight bullets left now, and five enemies. Even Jesper can tell that’s bad odds.

Retreating across the courtyard, though—the first few meters are fine, there are enough wine barrels and he can just dash from one to another, slightly nudging bullets off their course so none hit him.

Those guys have far too many bullets left, though, by the time Jesper’s forty meters away from the gate. Forty meters without cover. His pursuers aren’t bad shots either—likely Dime Lions, because there’s no way a Liddy would ever get so close that Jesper has to redirect their bullet—and they’re cautious enough that only two of them are crouched behind that barrel next to the tunnel, now, while the rest are still hidden inside.

This might get a little tough—but if Jesper starts manipulating bullets more obviously, will that information travel to the Little Palace? They know the Sun Summoner escaped with a Fabrikator. Is he painting a target on Kaz’ back?

Is he—

Bloodcurdling screams and groans, and Jesper’s too far away to hear any thwacks but his senses have expanded and he knows that metal coating intimately. Knows that cane.

Kaz emerges from the tunnel opening, Inej behind him, and—

Boom.

The Dime Lion’s shot him.

Right in the chest, and Kaz stumbles, falls to his knees.

Keels over.

Jesper shoots wildly while he runs over, whirling the bullets around the barrel that the Dime Lions are hiding behind—two left, Kaz wouldn’t have let any of the ones in the tunnel escape—desperate to hit something or at least keep them distracted and scared long enough to get there, or for—Inej’s pulling Kaz back by his coat, and she’s still wearing a sheer Menagerie dress, she probably doesn’t have any knives to protect—nothing’s hit yet, nothing’s hit, and all Jesper’s bullets are in the air whizzing around but he’s not hitting anything and Kaz is down and Kaz—

Kaz pushes himself to his knees, and then he stands up.

He’s breathing hard, and in the ugly rose/amber/bloodstain trench there’s a hole above his heart, sooty and burnt, but he’s still alive, Kaz is alive, he’s—

“What are you?” a Dime Lion gasps. Jesper’s finally got a bead on her. He sinks three bullets into her head.

“I just killed…” The other one is less lucky, and Jesper only manages to hit his stomach before he runs out of airborne bullets. He’ll die, but it won’t be quick.

“I crawled out of the harbour before. I’ll do it again,” Kaz rasps, and before the Dime Lion manages more than “Dirty—” a wet squelch informs Jesper of his demise.

That’s all of them.

“Kaz, you—” Inej’s much quicker at Kaz’ side, but he moves away before she can touch him to check his injury. Moves quickly enough he’s probably not on death’s door. He is a good actor, though. She looks at Jesper, and he’s about to join her in begging Kaz to get some medical aid, at least, but then Kaz shrugs off the ruined trench coat.

“Those kefta aren’t entirely useless,” Kaz rasps, grinning like an amused fucking asshole who almost gave Jesper a heart attack.

And then, Inej wraps herself around Jesper.

“You’re alive! I was terrified,” she shouts against his chest, slapping his back and grabbing as if she can’t decide whether to kill Jesper or never let go. “I thought you got yourself killed! You just disappeared, no word, I thought—”

“I may have lost a game where the stake was fifty thousand kruge?”

“You—Jes—” Inej squeezes him harder. “I told you to stop. I’d rather have you, with me, than have you die trying to pay me off.”

“I almost won! But there was no chance I’d get out of it, without indenturing myself, and—it all worked out, didn’t it? You’re free! Which reminds me…” Jesper takes off his own coat—blue and green and purple wave patterns, very fancy, a bit on the small side for him—and lays it onto Inej’s shoulders. It suits her, too—it drowns her a little, sure, but the way the coat reaches down to her ankles looks regal, and anyway, Kaz is a good sewer. He’ll fix this. “Can’t have you catching a cold.”

Before she can reply—tell him again she wasn’t worth risking his life and freedom in every card game he could for two years, when she definitely is, she’s Inej, he’ll do anything for her—he runs away and searches the dead Dime Lions for a new coat for himself, all their money, the rifle, and picks up the used bullets too. Knowing Kaz, he’ll want them to leave this place soon, and Jesper can’t very well try to convince his boss he needs to keep his sharpshooter around when he has no bullets left.

Speaking of—Jesper saunters over to Kaz when he’s done. With his most careless grin, he says, “I want my goodbye kiss before you ditch me.”

“I left you a note,” Kaz rasps. “I should have remembered you can’t read.”

Which as good as counts as a promise that Kaz didn’t intend to leave him behind: that, and the adrenaline of an easy gunfight has Jesper grinning widely. This is the life he wanted. The life he yearned for during the last two miserable years. The Crows are back, baby. He asks, “What now, boss?”

“We leave. Before anyone comes to investigate those gunshots.”

“Novyi Zem?”

“No,” Kaz rasps, just as Inej says, “They’ll let us drown.”

“They what?”

“Move.” Kaz starts limping past the factory, and then doubles back one street over—in the general direction away from the sea. Jesper and Inej quickly flank him. “I went to the Fifth Harbour before I paid off Inej’s indenture. It’s near empty. Old man there said no boats go to Novyi Zem or Eames Chin right now, and no boats come back. Because nothing gets unloaded. Kerch ships can’t dock there. They all get stranded at sea.”

“People started running when Ravka cut us off from the continent,” Inej mutters. “Before the invasion. And now the Darkling’s gone, the Kerch Grisha are either running or dead.”

“Too many refugees, apparently. Something about culture and scroungers and economic migrants. Novya Zem’s closed its ports to Kerch.”

“But I’m Zemeni—”

“You’re just a person. Those borders don’t exist to help you. The harbour watch don’t exist for you, the government doesn’t exist for you—if there’s a choice between cementing their power and your life, every bureaucrat worth their salt will choose the former.”

Jesper wants to argue, but actually, he’d trust Kaz over Novyi Zem a million times. Kaz saved his life when Ketterdam and Kerch would have swallowed him whole. Novyi Zem isn’t any different. “So we’re stuck in Ketterdam, then, where I’ll get shot on sight and you’ll easily get tracked by the Darkling. I only remember one safehouse that’s still uncompromised, as of last month anyway, unless you think we should go back to Haskell’s, boss?”

“Inej,” Kaz rasps. “That shop over there. Buy us a cart. We’re going to Lij.”

“What’s in Lij, boss? Why Lij? Where is Lij, anyway?”

But Kaz doesn’t answer him. Even aboard the cart, directing their new donkey with a seemingly perfect grasp of the roads leading to a small southern Kerch town none of them have ever been to, he refuses to elaborate. He looks tense, though. Jesper reshapes his many new bullets while he walks alongside. If there’s a fight waiting for them in Lij, they’re going to win.

☼

Kaz paces the length of the room. Window, door, window, door—there’s not much space beside the marriage bed, and the air draft of his passing caresses Jesper’s shorn head.

He’s put back together now, dressed in his socks and his boots and his underpants and his trousers and his gloves, though his torso’s only covered by the open purple kefta. Despite the cane, he limps more heavily than before he trekked for weeks through the Ravkan forest. He’s not fully recovered yet, if he’ll ever be.

Jesper’s on the floor. He climbed off the bed—off Kaz, after he ruined Kaz’ stupid get proxy-raped by the proxy-Darkling again plan. He said what he said, and the silence that followed was all the answer he’ll get, and then he sat down on the floor. It’s as good a place to wait as any. Probably more hygienic than the bed, anyway. He watched Kaz dress, until he almost looked like the Barrel lieutenant they both wish he was still allowed to be, and now he’s watching Kaz Brekker Dirtyhands the Sun Summoner pace holes in the old dusty floor of an abandoned farmhouse an hour’s walk outside of the small Kerch town of Lij.

He’s not getting murdered, though. Not for what he almost did. Not for what he said. That’s as good as this was ever going to go.

“It was worse this time.” Kaz directs his rasp towards the floor. He doesn’t stop moving. “I froze. Why was it—it was you. I knew you were—you’d never—with you it should have been more tolerable. Not worse.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, boss.” Jesper still can’t decide whether he should be ashamed that he was too squeamish to go through with it. Kaz doesn’t seem as angry as he could be, that Jesper totally fucked up this whatever-it-was-supposed-to-be. Not the mocking disappointment he doles out at Jesper’s predictable failures—gambling, distractibility, lateness, no impulse control and so on—and not the seething hatred when Jesper does something he hasn’t anticipated.

“I turned it over and over in my mind. For a year. What I did wrong. How I could have turned this to my advantage. How to excise this weakness. I thought I’d found—but there’s nothing.”

Jesper would offer to brutally desecrate the Darkling’s corpse again, but it clearly doesn’t help. Kaz won’t let this go. Never mind that he was a teenage thief imprisoned in a palace. Never mind it was him against the whole entourage of the most powerful Grisha. The man who crowned himself Emperor.

Sometimes you’re just fucked. And there’s nothing you can do. Life isn’t fair.

“There is a way to beat him,” Kaz hisses. “And I will find it.”

“You did. Sort of.”

“What—”

Jesper grins a shark-grin. “You’re not in Ravka now, are you?”

“That doesn’t count.”

“Why doesn’t it? No, boss, listen—he didn’t beat you alone, either, right? He had his Tailor making you into a doll. His Fabrikators locking your cage. His soldiers. Hell, Haskell selling you out—so really, it’s your victory that I found you.” Now that Jesper’s trying to explain his gut reaction, it just seems more and more logical. “Why can’t you have your own gang? You practically rescued yourself. You took a look at a boy who’d have gotten shot in a few weeks because he couldn’t pay is debts and he couldn’t stop fucking gambling—you had me dragged up to your office. You took that chance. You saved my life so I could save yours. That’s… planning ahead. Planning years ahead. Well done.”

Kaz finally, finally stops pacing. He sinks into the mattress just slightly to the right of Jesper, so he can sprawl out his legs without making contact. He looks at Jesper, but he’s silent, and his face isn’t giving anything away.

At first, that makes it feel like he’s actually listening. Actually considering what Jesper told him, and agreeing. Kaz is a quick thinker, though. He doesn’t need this long to realize that Jesper’s correct, which means he’s coming up with counterarguments—arguments why actually, he’s still weak or whatever and needs to force himself—and Jesper really, really can’t watch him do this to himself again. Why this, anyway? Why is this the weakness he fixated on?

“Why is that creep so obsessed with making you touch people, anyway?”

“Because it’s easy. Necessary. Even a child does it. Touch is what makes us human, and the Sun Summoner is human, whatever lies he tells himself,” Kaz recites. His eyes are bright. Wet.

“Bullshit. You terrorized the Barrel for years and it didn’t matter at all that you never touched anyone. It was just you. It didn’t even really sink in for me, that you don’t touch people, until I saw the way he dressed you up, how miserable you were.” That’s probably a good place to leave it, but Jesper’s livid. Jesper could mince and mangle fifty Darklings with the pure force of his loathing, and there’s not even a single one around here. That energy has to go somewhere. “You’re trying to tell me the Ravkan fucking palace couldn’t change protocol a little and adapt? If it never mattered in the Barrel, it never mattered at all. He just picked something. If you’d been allergic to shellfish, that’s the only food he would have served you, and he would have said you’re weak for your windpipe swelling up. He wasn’t able control you because touch made you weak. When you’re in control, it doesn’t matter. Because you fucking kill whoever touches you. You don’t bow to them. They bow to you.”

Kaz doesn’t reply. He doesn’t look away from Jesper, though. He just stares down at him, with his eyes still wide and still wet. He mutters, “You’ve turned quite opinionated in my absence, Jesper.”

“In your presence. I’m quoting your words back to you—sort of, it was about the cane, and I’ve forgotten half of it. But you were right. You were always right.” Jesper laughs. “See? Now you’re teaching yourself through time and space! Your masterplan is incredibly fucking elaborate!”

“My—I’m not falling for it.” Kaz is grinning, though. “If I agree now—by this time tomorrow you’ll have done something incredibly stupid and you’ll throw the whole Everything I do is your triumph because you saved me thing in my face. I’m not responsible for your awful jokes!”

Pretending to wipe tears from his eyes, Jesper wails, “My plan! My ingenious plan! Foiled by the dastardly Dirtyhands, oh no!”

Kaz laughs at him. Kaz laughs, and laughs, and Jesper joins him.

It takes a while before Kaz stops, gasping for breath. No-one in Ravka’s ever told a good joke, Jesper decides, because he’s made way funnier jokes before that Kaz didn’t even chuckle at, but gift horses and mouths and so on. Colour’s returned to Kaz’ face: his cheeks are blotchy and red, even after his breathing’s evened out. Kaz mumbles, “You know, that’s exactly how I imagined it.”

What? Oh. Jesper’s sprawled on the floor, leaning back on his elbows, his shirt pulled out of his trousers—his trousers, which are open, and he still hasn’t tucked away his dick. He forgot. There were more far important things to do, and now… well, he probably looks more debauched than Kaz in his purple kefta, with just his prick exposed to the chilly night-time Kerch air while he lounges on the ground. He ghosts a finger over it.

“Do you want me to—do you want to watch, boss?”

“I’d—” Kaz swallows. “Saints.”

Jesper turns a little, so Kaz can get a better view. He doesn’t undress, in case that’s an integral part of the fantasy, just gently trails his fingers down his still-limp dick—though it’s definitely waking up now—and looks up at Kaz.

Kaz doesn’t meet his eyes anymore, but that’s fine: more than fine, when he’s alternately looking at Jesper’s cock and at Jesper’s lips. Jesper darts out his tongue, and Kaz’ pupils blow even wider. Jesper licks down his palm and starts jerking off in earnest. “Hey, boss,” Jesper mutters, and when the head jerks up Jesper blows him a tiny kiss.

“What do you think about?” Kaz rasps.

“I just look at you. That’s enough. I like your face.” The tiny quirk of his lips, the way his eyes dart back down. “What are you thinking about, boss?”

“I didn’t expect you to enjoy this as much.”

“Seriously, boss, I know you’re not that stupid. How many times—”

“Not me,” Kaz mumbles. He gestures obscurely at the room. Jesper. The wall. The floor. The floor again. “This. It’s—not proper. Demeaning.”

“I wasn’t feeling demeaned until you started talking—”

“I was going to make you my right hand, once I took over the Dregs. Not my whore—”

“You were?” slips out, small and breathless, before Jesper remembers that this is for Kaz. This for him to enjoy. The warmth expanding in Jesper’s ribcage can wait. “There’s nothing bad about this. You like it. I like it. I don’t see anyone else in this room, and even if—a very clever guy once told me that you don’t bow to the world. You make the world bow to you.”

☼

It’s scratching that wakes Jesper. Scratching like the sharpening of a knife, quick, impatient, desperate—but it’s Kaz who’s on watch right now, Kaz who found this shallow cave they’re spending the night in, and Kaz wouldn’t let any danger come this close unnoticed. Unfought. Kaz wouldn’t just leave Jesper to his fate—would he?

He wouldn’t. At least not yet.

Kaz is sitting at the mouth of the cave. The moon drenches his matted dirty hair in its white glory, his handmade trousers, his naked wiry chest. His chest which he hasn’t bared for a second since Jesper gave him the kefta, even pulling off the Sun Summoner chemise that they tore into threads while still wrapped up in both of his coats: but now he’s half-naked, head bending down to look at those tines sticking out of his clavicle. Those antlers, those keratinized tumours, those bone cancers. Whatever those mutations are, he wants them gone.

In the right hand, he’s holding the knife that Jesper made from buttons so they could cut the blanket into trouser-shapes. In the left hand, he’s holding one of the protrusions growing from his body.

And then, he starts hacking again.

Viciously, helplessly, like a sick rabbit mutated into its own trap. He misses, once, and the knife sinks into his collarbone: but silently he tears it out again and cuts at the cancerous bone, and the knife’s sharp but the only dents that Jesper can see are tiny, glowing, lighting up the knife that’s flecked with his own blood.

☼

Jesper stirs the potato chunks. Thankfully, the old hearth still works, at least after he and Inej fed it with firewood they brought from the market, and so he’s cooking potatoes in butter and water. He mashes them up with some heavy wooden implement he found in a cabinet, once they’re soft enough—he washed it of course; he doesn’t want to eat moth shit—and then Inej passes him a wooden board of carrots in neat small identical pieces. Show-off. Jesper loves her so fucking much.

“Careful, don’t let it burn,” she says, twirling her knife, and Jesper—well, he meant to stir the pot of what’s apparently becoming stamppot. He did. He didn’t mean to think of how he’ll get Inej and Kaz out of Ravka—

And that’s when Kaz limps into the kitchen. He wasn’t still asleep when Inej and Jesper went into town to get some food—as if the Bastard of the Barrel ever sleeps in, even when he’s far from his titular Barrel—but he begged off the trip. He told them to say they’re working for Johannus Rietveld, if they’re asked, who’s apparently inherited this farm, but—they weren’t asked a thing, anyway, and who knows what Kaz did in the meantime. Who knows what weird cover identity he’s cooked up that they haven’t yet had to invoke. And whether it’s weirder than the one Jesper just created.

Jesper gives him a tender little smile. “Had a good morning?”

“No.”

“Because of last—”

But Kaz can read Jesper at least as well as he can read himself. “Don’t flatter yourself,” he rasps. “You’re the least terrifying person I’ve ever met.” Which probably means Yes, I’m rattled, but I won’t take it out on you. Too much.

“Thanks, darling.” And obeying Inej’s sharp elbow, he goes back to stirring the potato mash, and the slices of rookworst smoked sausage she’s dumped into another pan as well. “We decided Inej needs a proper homecooked meal, now she’s free, and we both haven’t eaten anything worth eating for ages, either.”

“You cook?”

“I grew up with my Da. It was either him or me. We traded off, if you want to know, and I’m pretty good apart from when it mysteriously turns into charcoal. And we didn’t find any Zemeni spices in the Lij market—this isn’t Ketterdam, and this old trader I talked to, she said it’s because maritime traffic to Novyi Zem is down to trickles at this point there’s a real dearth of spices, she couldn’t get them at any reasonable price—”

“Don’t burn the stamppot,” Inej orders.

“Anyway, we found a recipe tacked to the wall behind the oven, so that’s what I’m making now. Something super Kerch. Stamppot—you’ve ever eaten it?”

Kaz makes a sound that’s deeply indecipherable. Jesper can’t even tell whether it’s mournful or happy.

“Anyway, we’re almost done. Spinach now, please—Inej made me stick to the recipe, you know—and then the fried sausage and some salt and… you’ll stay with us for lunch, right, even if it isn’t royal Little Palace fare?”

“We ate unseasoned burnt rabbits in the forest,” Kaz replies curtly. He’s gotten over whatever strange emotion took hold of him, then.

“Yeowtch, they were awful. Why didn’t you remind me to take them off the fire. I know how to smuggle us into Novyi Zem,” Jesper says, carrying the deep pot over to their chosen clean bit of floor. Next to the windowsill, so Kaz can sit down with a little less discomfort—the house has been cleaned out apart from the marriage bed, really, and making Kaz go in there now… Making Inej go in there now, when it’s where last night he and Kaz had sex… And it’s not like they were loud, but who knows what Inej read into them pacing around each other for an hour. This is much less awkward. Besides, Jesper’s recently had some great experiences with floors.

Inej doesn’t stop playing with her knife, even after she balances her stamppot served on woodboard on her knees and digs in with her slightly bent spoon. She hasn’t set it down all morning, even carried it into town when they went looking for something to eat, and while she’s been supervising Jesper’s cooking—making sure he’s reading the recipe, keeping him on-track, bickering with him over unclear or illegible instructions—she’s been twirling it around her fingers. A truly remarkable feat, given that it’s the piece of shit knife that Jesper cobbled together from coat buttons, and he didn’t know what he was doing at all except that it should probably be sharp. Inej really needs to talk him through the finer points of balance if she wants him to overhaul the thing.

“They’re not letting in any more refugees from Kerch, you said,” Jesper starts setting up the explanation for his ingenious plan, while he passes over Kaz’ portion and another spoon he dug out from the bottom of a cabinet and small-scienced back into shape.

“The rich Kerch started running first, when the Darkling advanced. Anyone who’d ever had a Grisha indenture… They probably got in. They had the money. As for the rest… well, we’ve all heard of what happened in Fjerda, unless we’re Jesper and too busy drinking and playing Makker’s Wheel—”

“Hey! I was trying to pay off your indenture,” Jesper complains, while nibbling on his surprisingly decent if underspiced potato mash. “I’m Zemeni. They’ll let me in.”

Kaz still hasn’t touched his food. He hasn’t put it away either though, hand cradling the board instead of throwing it at Jesper. Maybe it’s because he’s too curious about the plan. Jesper should have waited, but he was too excited, and now Kaz is frowning as he replies, “So you keep saying. How does that help us? I assume you wouldn’t leave the two of us behind, after all that trouble you took.”

It feels good, to hear him say that. Almost good enough to forgive that Kaz doesn’t like his lunch. “That’s where my plan comes in. I’ve finally figured it out. If we’re married—”

“We can’t marry each other,” Kaz rasps. Before Jesper gets too sad about that, he continues, “In case you haven’t yet learned to count, we’re three people now.”

“I know. That’s why I’ve been thinking it over for so long. But divorce exists, you know so I was thinking that our story should be—and I’ll write to Da, but I thought you should probably agree first—I married one of you and then fell in love with the other but I still loved both, so I was trying to—”

Inej coughs. Laughs. Yeah, she’s definitely laughing at him, and then she says, “You’re going to tell your father about your marriage in a letter—your multiple marriages, because not only did you get married without inviting him, you already traded in your wife for a younger, prettier model. You lothario!”

“If you think that Kaz—actually, are you younger than Inej?”

Kaz, spoon in mouth, glares down at him.

“I’m trying to save our lives here. I’d appreciate some cooperation! And Da will forgive me, when he sees how happy I am with my new bonebreaking gangster wife and my old knife-twirling gangster wife who I had to divorce for petty bureaucratic reasons. Do you like it?”

Another spoonful of stamppot disappears into Kaz’ mouth. His eyes are closed while he chews, and then he looks away. His voice is hoarser than normal when he mumbles, “It tastes exactly the way I—it’s good.”

“Better than unseasoned rabbit charcoal. Anyway, it might throw the Darkling off our scent some more, if we disguise Kaz as a woman—and don’t be sexist. Women come in all shapes and sizes, no-one’s going to suspect a thing. Also we’re from Ketterdam. If any woman like Kaz can marry anywhere, it’s here. It’ll be a scandal, if they refuse to honour our marriage. Letting a few poors drown outside Zemeni borders, sure, but breaking the mutual recognition of administrative documents?”

Jesper is actually pretty proud of his reasoning here. That makes it even more annoying when Kaz rasps, “No-one will ever believe I’m your wife. I can’t even touch you.”

“No-one’s going to believe I love you? Are you sure?” Jesper flutters his eyes up at Kaz.

“He has a point, Jesper. You won’t be the first desperate refugee forging a marriage to leave.” Inej twirls her knife again. “You’ll need to act the part.”

“We’ll just tell them the truth.”

“Which is?”

“You don’t want to be touched, and if they have a follow-up question, they’d better direct it to the barrel of my gun. I’m not letting anybody non-consensually grope my beloved Kerch wife. Never again. Not over my dead body.”

“Won’t they think it’s weird if Kaz—sorry, your beautiful Kerch wife doesn’t let you touch him?”

“I don’t care. I told you. Let the world bow to us. I love my ingenious, vicious Kerch wife, completely independent of any physical contact we may or may not ever have. I respect my stubborn loyal deadpan Kerch wife far too much to cross those boundaries just for social custom. Also, my sweet murderous Kerch wife has a mean right hook.”

“Thankyou for the demonstration of your acting skills,” Kaz rasps drily, scratching his spoon on his serving board for the last flecks of stamppot. “We’re not going to Novyi Zem, though. There are more amplifiers than just the Stag he forced into me, and we’re going to find the rest. I’m going to tear apart every miserable molecule in the Darkling’s body, cell by fucking cell.”

“And you just let me keep talking?”

“It was entertaining.” Kaz licks his spoon, and then the board. Any second now, Jesper will tell him there’s more left in the pot. “Write your Da. We’ll keep your plan as a backup, in case everything goes horribly wrong. You’ll need a ring, though, to make it official,” and Kaz starts rooting through the kefta pockets.

Jesper can’t breathe. Is Kaz really…? He can’t breathe until he looks at Kaz’ stretched-out, gloved hand, and—

“How the fuck did you steal that one?! I was just wearing it!”

[hellobrockie]

Some very long Rambly TROS thoughts

Holy fuck there is so much wrong with this movie.

Let's start at the beginning. Kylo tracks down the wayfinder/holocron crystal thing that will lead him to the sith homeworld. We learn that Palpatine was behind both the Snoke and Vader voices in Kylo’s head-basically the dude has been manipulating him for 30 years. Kylo states very clearly he's gonna kill this motherfucker. This is very in line with the Last Jedi- Kylo wants to destroy everything- the Sith the Jedi the Resistance- because he’s tired of the constant push-pull of rejection and manipulation. BUT THEN HE DOESNT KILL PALPATINE???? At first the film argues that he doesn't kill Palps because Palps promises him the big FINAL ORDER fleet? Okay...but I don’t think Kylo really gives a shit about a big fleet of ships when it's offered by the fucker who has been scrabbling his brains for shits and giggles. Once the ‘Rey Palpatine’ thing comes to light, we are lead to believe Kylo went along with the whole final order plan because he wanted to kill Palpatine together with REY???? Ahh okay? 

So now we switch back to Rey. She's basically a jedi, cool. And I guess the Skywalker saber just fixed itself, with literally no scars or anything. A great visual representation about how this film feels about character development that happened in The Last Jedi. So Rey breaks concentration and fails the courses. According to the film, this happens because sheisapalpatine. If you had two brain cells you would realize Rey could be upset for normal reasons ...like that in order to the Resistance to win she’s going to have to put Kylo down like a dog. Its kinda cool that Leia is her teacher (more on that later).

Soo then we spend the next hour on a pointless adventure with the Trio™. Which would be fun, if they were ever established as a Trio. Arguably the real trio might be Rose-Finn-Poe. More on Rose later. Here is a list of incomprehensible things that happen here:

Kylo reforges his mask. Because Reasons? The knights of Ren. Because Reasons?

A handful of force bond scenes. The first one actually isn’t half bad. By wearing the mask, Kylo is rejecting the intimacy inherent to the connection because he is about to  defile it. Grabbing Rey’s necklace is a physical and emotional violation. It's the first time he has ever used the connection for personal gain.  The other connection scenes mostly just play around with the two of them being able to pass each other stuff. They lack the careful editing of TLJ connection scenes. Disclaimer: I’m a pretty hard core Reylo and these scenes really lacked the magic they previously had.This might be un-purpose Kylo is clearly pretty lost as this point.  Dull, lacking in heart like so much of this film. 

Kylo becomes a cartoon power ranger villian spouting Palpatine exposition and attempting to create suspense by almost catching the trio a couple times. Some of the dialogue is almost Revenge of the Sith Anakin level awkward.  It lacks both the unstable angry energy of FA or the sad tired boi energy of TLJ. 

Rey makes force lighting because I guess she was upset and it's a genetic ability now???

Poe gets a female love interest, becuase hes heterosexual. HeTeroSeXUal.

Poe and Finn flirt for a whole hour while Poe checks out some new chick and Finn now has a harem thing kinda. 

Poe is now a spice trader. BECAUSE YOU KNOW HE'S THE HAN SOLO OF THE TRILOGY. Let's just forget that TLJ establishes that Poe is his own character, probably loyal to the resistance since birth. His parents are rebellion alumni.

Two death fake outs. I don’t know why they had to give 3PO his memories back. He lost them at the end of the Prequels and R2 loved him anyway. Chewbacca capture was a missed opportunity to get some resolution to him shooting Kylo in the gut. 

Hux is the spy. Lovely. He is the ultimate weak bitch. Tbh the most consistent character development. Arguably my favorite detail on the entire film. Perfect execution. Domhnall Gleason is a gift. 

Now onto Endor. Endor has so much potential and squanders most of it.

Finn meets other people who left the stormtrooper program. Cool. Weird how it's tied to force sensitivity. I like the idea of the force putting Poe and Finn in the right place at the right time, but I think to imply people’s ability to escape slavery is tied to force sensitivity brings us to the problematic terrority of the sequels. Also the only one who talks to Finn is also black. And Clearly has a romantic vibe. Okay…..

The Rey Palpatine thing is made explicit. Even though anyone will half a brain figured it out 90 minutes ago. More wierd implications…..who would agree to fuck an old man Palpatine? So Rape i guess. Rey’s parents were normal...is this some kinda side material hook to read more about them or some shit??? Kylo refers to Rey’s parents as ‘filthy junk traders’. He's right. THEY SOLD HER INTO FUCKING SLAVERY. However Rey’s parents are good people??? WTF THIS IS THE JEDI COUNCIL ALL OVER AGAIN.

 Soo Kylo destroys the wayfinder to force Rey to work with him. Anti-Reylos will often get their panties in a twist about how it’s an ‘abusive relationship’. This is the only scene that really comes off as manipulative- in a way it never did in TLJ. Partly because they play up this idea of power-hungry Kylo (which has little basis in reality. In FA he just wanted to make Snoke his daddy. And TLJ Kylo is just soo fucking lonely) rather than sad boi Kylo trying to hold onto someone. Damn the TLJ throne scene is soo careful with getting that energy right, balancing the heartbreak with a little gaslighting (sorry off topic).  Then They Fight. Kylo doesn’t even pull out a saber at first because he literally has no intention of killing her. Rey fights because she's mad. Leia decides to intervene at this time, which is weird because Kylo still has no intention of hurting Rey. Apparently Leia sending Kylo a text is enough to freak him out. THIS WOULD HAVE BEEN THE TIME FOR FLASHBACKS, MAYBE A ‘YOU’RE MY ONLY HOPE’ TO TIE HIM BACK TO HIS NAMESAKE. 

Instead Rey gets him in the gut. She then heals him, something that should have been really intimate. This would have been time to kiss him in that wistful ‘ I wanted to know what it would be like before I exile myself forever way’. This is one of the scenes that desperately needed more breathing room AND GIVE KYLO SOME FUCKING DIALOGUE YOU COWARDS. Healing him combined with Leia stuff should have reduced Kylo to a pile of tears. I think he would find it completely overwhelming that someone thinks he is worth it, worth a part of their life source, worth their final breathes. 

Oh woah surprise Han Solo. This kinda works for me because unlike robot Leia and fairy godmother Luke, Han looks alive. Plus Han is only a memory so Kylo has to save himself, make his own choice. Aww fuck this got me the closest to tears becuase he looks so fucking sad about the fact that he can’t go home. Damn you Adam Driver and you’re big weepy eyes. His mother is dead and I don’t think he ever truly realized that she wanted him back. I guess with the way things went with Luke, he just assumed he was unwanted. Even now, Han is the only one of the 3 Ben can really imagine taking him back. Who knew Han was such a softie.  At the same time there is something so unintentionally sad about the fact that Ben’s whole family can become force ghosts and not a single one gives enough of  a shit about him to show up at the turning point of his life. 

Also the implication that Ben turns to protect Leia’s lifework is strange. Leia’s legacy is the Rebellion, a democratic senate, a planet wiped off the map, NOT SKYWALKER JEDI #2 JJ!!!!! Ben doesn’t even interact with any of the larger powers at work, he just saves Rey. 

Also while Ben’s guilt and shame about killing Han (his true sin) keep him on the dark side, this doesn’t address the 8 million other reasons he left the light. Also why do Leia and Rey never discuss this???? His own fucking family repeatedly rejected him because of his ‘Vadar-ness’ which is ironic considering…….

Then we cut to Rey’s fairy godmother-esque trip to Ahch-To where she arms herself with all of the Skywalker’s personal effects:

Mad that Rian Johnson denied you that ESB fanservice call-back of Luke being able to pull his x-wing out of water?? Don’t worry JJ has got you covered. 

Mad that Leia didn’t have lightsaber? Don’t worry JJ has got you covered, Leia was always prepared to be a back up to Luke because she doesn’t have her own perspective or anything or like a whole fucking political system to run. Also she stopped training because apparently completing her journey would end in Ben’s death...ooo SmArT foreshadowing that Rey using her lightsaber will end in one dead Ben boi. 

Leia and Luke ALWAYS knew about Rey Palps. Which is funny because they threw their own flesh and blood in the trash because he seemed kinda Vader-y. I guess it's wrong to judge people by their bloodlines unless its your own bloodline. I can’t even. 

There is no mention of Ben at all- even though Leia and Luke both died for him and Rey put her whole heart into saving him.  

Now to Exeger or whatever again. Almost two hours in and we’re back at the planet we were on in the first 5 minutes.

Spaceship stuff happens. Take out your checklist to get those pilot and ship cameos. Ooo look its The Ghost! OG trilogy pilot! Lando is there! WOOO! Poe’s girlfriend lived somehow! 

Ben’s last words are ‘Ow’.

Palps wants Rey to kill him because I guess that will make her evil? Since when does killing people make you evil? I don’t think killing Palps to save the world in the same as ‘striking your enemies down in hatred’ or whatever. 

Oh Hey Ben is here. Palps doesn’t care much I guess even though trolling Skywalkers is his whole life’s passion. 

Palps drains the life out of Ben/Rey. They don’t die. Ben goes flying into a pit. Rey has to face Palps alone because I guess even though Ben/Rey are stronger together and are cosmically linked the lone jedi thing will happen anyway?? Is feminism about doing everything on your own rather than building meaningful connections with your equal partner. Honestly only Men would think a women has to do everything alone to prove her worth, Rey has been wanting allies and family her whole life LET HER HAVE IT. 

Also okay sooo Palps did technically kill Rey’s parents and she had about a whole 5 minutes to think about that. Multiple generations of Ben’s family have been tortured by this guy, so I think it would be rather cathartic to see him play a bigger role in the end of Palp.

Rey enters the Avatar State. Cue more fanservice cameos (I love you Ahsoka, but you said it yourself, you ain’t a jedi). In another backhanded slap to TLJ were back on the TheJediDidNothingWrong line of thinking. Anakin is present ...I wonder if anyone else is interested in talking to him…...

Rey dies. I’m not sure why. Palps legit sucked the life of her and she lived, but the Avatar State killed her. 

Ben crawls out of pit. Damn Adam Driver has legs for days. He heals Rey, its kinda sweet but it's also really really weird that he hasn’t said anything. Not saying we need an over the top love declaration but even his emotionally constipated parents managed to get an ‘I love you’ out. 

Ben saves Rey. The thing Anakin thought the dark side would give him the power to do. Interesting bookend. Sad that my boy has such low self preservation, he gives her his life without hesitation. Why do we have to die for other people? It’s much harder to have to live for other people. To move and grow beyond the past. To try and be our best everyday, even when its hard. Isn’t that real redemption? 

Ben kisses Rey. Awww. Its missing some of the elements of a big romantic drama kiss, which I would be okay with ...if it was followed up with a big romantic kiss with a sunset on a new planet before the credits roll. Alas this does not happen. The audience is somewhat befuddled since their had been almost no dialogue referencing their emotional connections. The ‘no one knows me./I do.’ dialogue from the trailer did not appear in film. 

Ben smiles. It has all the boyish charm and innocence Anakin wished he had in the prequels. Aww he really has never kissed anyone. I wonder when the last time he smiled was. HAS THIS MAN EVER HAD A GOOD DAY HIS ENTIRE LIFE. I am emotionally moved until approximately 2 seconds later….

Ben dies. There is no funeral. No mention. Rey doesn’t shed a single tear. This dude literally gave you his life without hesitation. Is Reylo one-sided? Or at least not equally felt? Ow. U The Resistance doesn’t wonder what happened to the Supreme leader. We know at the end of TLJ Luke became a legend, I do not think this happens to Ben. 

The Resistance parties. Cue Return of the Jedi film reel. Poe and Finn are heterosexual. No resolution to the stupid ReyFinn force sensitve thing. Two women kiss. It will be cut out of the Chinese release. 

Rey buries the lightsabers on Tatooine because you know Luke lived there and Leia once wore a metal bikini there. Rey choose the name Rey Skywalker. Which is interesting because she didn’t get along that well with Luke. She finished her training with Leia Organa Solo, Princess of Alderaan who just happens to have been a result of a sperm donation from Anakin Skywalker. She found a father figure in Han Solo. She loved a guy named Ben Solo. I’m not saying she should name herself Rey Solo, but it certainly is better than Rey Skywalker. I mean it's almost like a person's worth and ability aren’t dependent on either a bloodline or acceptance into the galaxies most powerful family. Rey nobody would have been fine.  I’m not going to get into the feminist angle of a self made women tying herself to the legacy of a man. Cue theaterwide groaning. 

Twin suns. Cool. I liked them better in The Last Jedi.

Rey has a yellow-ish lightsaber and maybe made out of her staff. Wonder where she got the crystals from and why they didn’t introduce it earlier. Possible implication she's going the way of the ‘grey’ jedi? idk some Jedi have yellow actually. Ahsoka had a yellow one. Not sure since this film is back on the JediwayisBest bullshit. 

We see Luke and Leia's force ghosts. Ben’s last word was ‘ow’.

In Summary, some odd implications:

Rey Palpatine is quite possibly the worst idea of all time. Worse than midichlorians. The highest level of fanboy pandering and Rian Johnson erasure. Rey has a lot of very real things to be angry about - her rough childhood, the deaths of her mentors, loving someone as dense as Ben Solo, having to come to terms with the fact that her parents didn’t love her. 

Return to prequel-esque thinking on slavery. Apparently it is not that bad if you sell someone as long as you do it with LOVE. 

Making Finn force sensitive is not character development. Its just half assed pandering and additional exposition in a film filled with exposition.

There is some truly awful dialogue in this film. Its shot composition and editing is so sloppy compared to FA or TLJ. 

The force in balance means killing everyone on the darkside. 

Rose is completely sidelined. She is the only Asian character on screen. She is seemingly replaced with a black woman who has a similar background to Finn and is a scavenger like Rey. Yikes. Why does this feel like an anti-interacial relationship thing. 

Said Black women Jarrah talks to Lando, another black character in a bizarre dialogue that vaguely implies all black people are related. I might be really misreading this, but its weird. I would have liked her to talk to Rose instead because female solidarity. 

FinnPoe is played up a LOT. But we are also repeatedly reminded they are attracted to women. This does not feel like woke Bisexual culture. This is pandering without making a commitment. 

Rey’s worth as a character is related to her connection to powerful people in the Star Wars mythos, not her own traits. 

Ben’s character resonates really strongly with abuse victims and outsiders. His lack of dialogue strips him of a lot of his agency.  His estrangement from his family is not resolved. Vader, who arguably did a lot worse things gets a whole dying monologue and force ghost thing. 

Oh hey C3PO said the festival is every 42 year old….OG came out 42 years ago. heh.

In Summary:

Watch the Clone Wars animated series

Fall in love with Ahsoka

Watch Star Wars Rebels or at least all the episodes with Ahsoka and also the series finale, it's got some cool force stuff in it. 

Think about the cool force stuff in Star Wars Rebels and the cool force stuff in The Last Jedi. Woah.

Apply all this cool force stuff to your own personal version of the Rise of Skywalker

Wait for clone wars finale Feb 2020

Rinse and Repeat

Peg Kylo Ren

Oscar Isaac is the Captain on the FinnPoe Ship. 

The Last Jedi was the Best One. Fight Me. 

Find the fanfiction where Rey tells him what a good boi he is which reduces him to a puddle. Find the fanfiction where he cries during sex the first time, the second time, every time. Find the fanfiction where his force ghost gets a hug, where his family welcomes his back. 

Read Fanfiction:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/21852886

What I would do instead:

Delete Rey Palpatine

Ditch the mask. You have a fucking Oscar nomiated actor hiding under it. 

After the Endor part, have Kylo join either Rey or the Resistance. Personally I think him hitching a ride on the Falcon would have been wonderfully awkward. And maybe give some closure the calling Finn a ‘traitor’ thing. This is fanservice-y, but no more fanservice-y than the rest of the film. And maybe finally answer the question of who does/doesnt know who Kylo Ren is. Would like a verbal declaration that he identifies as Ben Solo or least Ben or something. 

Ben can still die I guess but maybe give him some kinda funeral. Or reuse the golden dice symbolism. 

Slow everything done. Let the audience feel sad, feel happy. Oh and cut out those fucking death fake outs. 

[deanothecheynosaur]

The Chilling Adventures of Sabrina Part 3 (2020)

**SPOILERS**

Ok, I have already completed the season, but I'm still gonna break it down episode by episode and give my thoughts during in retrospect. If you have not seen Parts 1 or 2, I recommend you start there.

Chapter 21: The Hellbound Heart

So, Sabrina (Kiernan Shipka) is trying to get Nick Scratch (Gavin Leatherwood) back out of hell and separated from Lucifer (Luke Cook). If you had forgotten, during part 2 Sabrina found out that Lucifer Morningstar was her biological father, and they trapped Lucifer inside of Nick. She enlists Roz (Jaz Sinclair), Harvey (Ross Lynch), and Theo (Lachlan Watson) to help. Besides the fact that their all besties, I have no idea what help Harvey or Theo would be. Theo is at least loyal and listens to reason. Harvey just goes off all the time. Roz is the most useful with her "cunning." Anyway. Before they figure out how to get to Hell, Mrs. Wardwell (Michelle Gomez) comes back to Baxter High with a new obsession with Dante's Inferno. But she's not possessed by Lilith (Michelle Gomez) anymore; Lilith is too busy defending her title as Queen of Hell. Also, props to Michelle Gomez. She flawlessly played two very different characters this season. Meanwhile, Zelda (Miranda Otto) and Hilda (Lucy Davis) are trying to save the coven because their powers are all fading. They aren't sure what to do with the remaining students or what to tell them. All of their powers are a gift from Lucifer, but he's not really in the position (or the mood) to be giving them any powers. Down in New Orleans, Ambrose (Chance Perdomo) and Prudence (Tati Gabrielle) are on their mission to find her father. When they come up short, they turn to Voodoo Priestess Mambo Marie (Skye P. Marshall) to help them with a different kind of magic. Dorian Gray (Jedidiah Goodacre -that is quite a name-) helps Sabrina and friends to get into Hell as long as they bring him a magic flower. They go in without any real plan, as you do. Seriously. Not even a map. Wtf. Luckily, they walked into the Shores of Sorrow and met Caliban (Sam Corlett), who told them to follow the river of blood because "all blood leads to Pandemonium." That's the capitol city of Hell I guess? They have lots of fun on the way, and when they get there, Lilith says that Sabrina has to deal with the Kings of Hell for her, but Lucifer tells Sabrina that she has to take the throne for herself. It has to be a Morningstar. Well, she does, but the Kings aren't convinced. Then our friend Caliban shows up again, naming himself Prince of Hell, and challenging Sabrina for the throne. It is worth noting that Caliban is ridiculously hot. And generally shirtless. Sabrina accepts the throne to get Nick out of Hell. Which is problematic for a lot of reasons, but most of all that she decides to do this BEFORE separating him from Lucifer. So she's just gonna keep Nick/Lucifer tied up in the dungeon until she finds another flesh acheron to hold Lucifer. What could go wrong?

I really expected it to take longer for Sabrina to get to Nick, but considering the very twisted maze part 3 went down, getting to Pandemonium is pretty minor. Also, Sabrina's whole "I'ma do what I want and not tell my aunts so they don't stop me" is getting old.

Chapter 22: Drag Me to Hell

This one is a little less convoluted. Sabrina finds out that one of her duties as Queen is to drag souls to Hell. Specifically souls who have made a deal with the devil. We can infer from this that the only people who go to Hell are those who have sold their soul, so it would be far easier to not go there than some people in the real world would have me believe. The first soul, a cute old man who wanted to be chess Grand Champion, Sabrina decided to show mercy and sent him to heaven. Didn't go over super well with the Kings of Hell. Also, Sabrina is now a cheerleader at Baxter High. They call themselves the Ravenettes. There's a dance team from my high school called the Raiderettes, so that confused me for a sec. Lots more singing pop songs then actual cheers though. Reminds me of the Jailhouse Rock scene in Riverdale. I digress. Zelda has decided to reopen the academy and that she and Hilda were going to teach. Hilda was more voluntold. Agatha (Adeline Rudolph) doesn't really respond well. Prudence and Ambrose discover that Father Blackwood (Richard Coyle) is in Loch Ness, which is apparently super magical and can bend time and space? Idk, but I was highly disappointed that we didn't see Nessie. They see him at the very end of the episode looking like Mr. Bean at the end of the live action Scooby-Doo movie. They take him back to Greendale and use him to hold Lucifer so Nick can be free. Because what the world needs is Blackwood and Lucifer together. Back to Brina. Her second soul to collect (apparently this is a daily task for the ruler of Hell but she only does these two so there's a plot hole) is the ice cream man, Jimmy Platt (Matty Finochio). He tells her that he would like to extend his contract again by eating the heart of an innocent child. Sabrina confronts Lucifer about this later, apparently it didn't have to be a child, just an innocent soul. Adult virgins, beware. Sabrina tells Jimmy no (obvi) but Jimmy has already hidden the kid. So now she has to find this kid and collect his soul before the end of the day or there will be a coup in Hell. Sabrina wisely decides on just Roz to help her with this one. Roz is also the one who warns Sabrina against transporting herself into a freezer with no more information, but as per usual Sabrina goes anyway. Jimmy put warding sigils on the walls, so she's stuck and powerless. Luckily, Lilith knows what the fuck she's doing (as opposed to Sabrina who only thinks she does) and saves Sabrina. Sabrina takes Jimmy to Hell, but nobody is impressed. Caliban officially challenges her to find the unholy regalia- the three most powerful infernal objects, starting with Herod's crown.

This is a pretty typical Sabrina episode- she's way in over her head, but she either doesn't realize it or won't admit it. I'm never quite sure, but it seems like she genuinely doesn't know. I also don't remember if it's this episode or the next, but Harvey is suddenly feeling under a lot of pressure to have sex with Roz. But it never shows Roz being pushy about it, so idk wtf is going on in Harvey's head (besides convincing himself he's over Sabrina).

Chapter 23: Heavy is the Crown

For this one, Sabrina enlists Ambrose to help her find the crown because Ambrose is the most well read warlock ever due to his permanent house arrest. It's in Riverdale. They use a special compass to find it in a maple tree that the Blossom's use for syrup. If you've seen Riverdale, this probably has more significance and is less surprising. They steal the crown (somehow without realizing zombie King Herod is still in the tree). Sabrina wants to destroy it, but Ambrose wants to tap into its power to help the coven. Unsurprisingly, this does not work out well for them initially because Herod follows the crown and would very much like it back. Zelda is failing at getting respect from the students at the academy, and there's weird Lucifer beetles crawling in ears and controlling people. In other news, a carnival came to town! Obviously this has something to do with the larger plot because otherwise it would be a side note. Harvey, Roz, Sabrina, Nick, and Theo are all going together. Theo wants to invite the new guy, Robin (Jonathan Whitesell), because Theo is crushing hard. Robin is nerdy cute, I guess. I did think it was cliche to give the queer guy green streaks in his hair though. Harvey says tells Theo to invite him as part of the group, which Theo does, and Robin agrees. They all go to the carnival: Roz, Sabrina, and Theo ignorantly happy, Harvey struggling with his masculinity, Nick struggling with his ordeal, and Robin just happy to be there. Roz "sees" the carnival ringmaster as a satyr (or a faun depending on your preference for Greek or Roman deities, but they do tend to prefer Greek in this show), but she decides she was imagining things. Mrs. Wardwell talks to the fortune teller Circe (Lucie Guest) to try to find out what happened to her during the three months that Lilith was using her "skin suit." She doesn't get any concrete answers because that's not how fortune tellers work, Mary. Harvey stumbles across a snake charmer dancer woman in a tent full of pervy dudes and is almost entranced. Hilda goes to the carnival with her bf Dr. C, who proposes. Idk why she needed to throw her cotton candy on the ground during that, but I'm also on a sugar detox, so... Prudence and Ambrose are cleaning up Blackwood's mess by putting a living doll spell on Judas and Judith to hide them and putting his weird time warping monster fish egg thing in a fish tank. Yeah. No Nessie, but a weird egg. It's fine, I'm not bitter. Back at the carnival, Sabrina and Nick get attacked by Herod (who stole his crown back from Ambrose but knows it was Sabrina stealing it initially). Ambrose saves them, but Caliban pops in, steals the crown, and wins the first round of the challenge. At the very end, we find out why the carnies are important: they're pagans who worship the old gods and trying to resurrect The Green Man to rid the world of flesh since the Satanic witches have all but lost their powers. There is more than one voodoo practitioner, idk why they're not considered more of a threat because they're much more independently magical. They need a virgin to complete the rebirth, and that's why Robin (dun dun dun) was hanging out at the high school. Our potential virgins are Theo, Harvey, and Mrs. Wardwell.

I chose not to believe that Robin was actually bad because I want Theo to be happy. I chose to believe that even if he was using Theo, Robin was just trying to take his virginity to prevent him from being the sacrifice. Also, Sabrina is basically trying to force Nick to be normal even though she compared his symptoms to PTSD. Girl stop. He needs a sec.

Chapter 24: The Hare Moon

Zelda and Hilda have decided that the coven needs to celebrate the hare moon for the coming of spring to bolster good will. Sabrina isn't enthused (maybe because it requires her singing a song of summer into the forest to release a rabbit). Lilith tells Sabrina that they need celestial power to restore their strength, so she goes to Dorian, who has an angel trapped in one of his paintings (as all art collectors do). Sabrina drains some blood from the angel for her coven, but leaves in the process because she hears some screaming. Then she stumbles upon Nick and some sex demons doing BDSM. She's less than thrilled, especially since Nick low-key blames her for it. And Dorian has drank 90% of the angel blood, but they can't take anymore with killing him. So Hilda suggests using the little blood to make an oil mixture and take a moon bath under the hare moon (rub oils all over your skin and lie outside under the full moon) to absorb the celestial energy from the moon. During the daytime ceremony, they meet the pagans. Things don't go well. Zelda makes a bunch of petty insults, Hilda pisses off Circe, and Nick kills me the snake that bit Dorcas (Abigail Cowen). Circe puts a curse on Hilda to become a spider, and

[0poole]

LGBTQABCDEFGHIJKLMNOPQRSTUVWXYZ

 Gee, I hate being the first one to say this, but it’s Pride month. Wow. How could no one be talking about this? Crazy.

Okay but like, it’s impossible to avoid this stuff, and it probably won’t stop till the end of next month, so might as well dish out some thoughts on everything here. Just thoughts, with no agenda behind them. Gotta make that clear because people tend to go ham with stuff otherwise.

First of all, I’m bi, and basically on the edge of being trans as well. Basically, here’s where I am on that spectrum:

I want to become a girl for fetish purposes. Maybe not entirely that, but it’s close enough to say it. Or, you know, maybe just wanting to get fucked by a dude in a different hole is just what every male-to-female transsexual wants? Apart from that, the only thing stopping me from going through with that is the technology. Basically, what they’ll be doing is giving me a vagina, and that’s pretty much it, unless I want to slap some plastic on my face. It’s not satisfying enough, and considering I’m totally okay with being male, It’s extremely not worth it for me. But, if I woke up one day and by chance I had magically turned into a girl overnight, then I am IN THE MONEY. Sounds dope. Why fondle other peoples’ tits when I can fondle my own?

As for bisexual-ism, I’d have to go far as to say that I’m not just ignoring the concept of pansexuality in lieu of something more familiar (even though that’s kinda-sorta also the reason but not really). I’m actually just not attracted to trans people for some reason. I’m obviously okay with it on a moral standpoint, but like... I just don’t feel it. Maybe it’s just something deep in the back of my mind going like “ehhhh.... something ain’t right here.” What’s weird is that I would DIE for futa girls. Maybe I just like dick and also every womanly part. Who knows.

And, if you’re asking yourself, “why’s this guy bringing up his porn tastes all of a sudden?” then literally WHAT DO YOU THINK SEXUALITY IS? Also thank you kind strawman, for letting me tie this into my main point of how I hope all sexuality will eventually become as pointless and irrelevant to a person’s being as their hair color.

Seriously, sexuality is a sex thing. And as far as I understand it, romantic interest is a different field from sexuality? That’s fair. Some people just want to fuck, others don’t want to fuck. Makes sense, but it kind of ties into one thing I hate about this whole movement: everything’s gotta be a title. Every slight iteration from another thing has it’s own entire label to it. How do you expect people to care about your movement if they have to learn a whole new language to understand what’s going on? It’s kinda the same thing with politics. Instead of saying I’m a “democrat” or whatever, all I want to do is tell you what I believe and go from there, no preconceived notions about things other people with the same title did or said or whatever. Instead of being a “aromantic pansexual,” you could just say “Everyone’s on the table, but I’m not much into dating and all that” and suddenly you as a being become a lot more tangible to other people. Obviously there are worse things people are doing for the cause, but even I’m getting annoyed at some of these extremely specific titles people are using. (I was about to type “demisexual” into that stereotypical example, but I looked it up, and it turns out it’s more on the romantic side of things, I guess? Look it up, it’s literally a “””sexuality””” that applies to most of the population, and yet it needs a label too)

And if you want to make things super specific, you know, to clarify that you’re into literally EVERYONE and not just “”everyone,”” then just realize it doesn’t actually matter to anyone who you’re not considering as a significant other. Like I said, sexuality is a sex thing. You wouldn’t want someone going around saying “Man, I really wish someone would tie me to a table and fuck me with a giant horsecock dildo right about now!” because that’s sex stuff, and we keep that on the DL, as the kids say. Although, I’d have to imagine that people bring it up out of the political-ness of it all, since that’s just how things are nowadays. 

And obviously you got the people who make their sexuality a major part of their person. Everyone knows they suck at this point, no need to beat a dead horse.

Here’s another thing I hate: People who make assumptions on a fictional characters sexuality/gender based on their personality. Like, “Oh, she’s a tomboy? Must be a lesbian.” sort of thing. Believe me, I’m a-go on lesbo porn 100%, but actually seriously assuming a character is gay or something just because of their personality? Isn’t that one of the things we’re trying to avoid? Stereotyping? No? Maybe? It’s even worse when people get angry about other people saying they’re something else, but that ties into my next thing:

When someone sees one person saying/doing something stupid on the internet, and assuming that a tangible amount of people actually do stuff like that. There’s probably a term for it. Like, if you see someone on r/Tumblrinaction or whatever going “It’s okay to rape boys but not girls.” a good number of people would instantly assume even a vaguely noticeable number of people believe that, just because they saw a meme of it online. Then, you get an actually tangible number of people getting angry about the original thing, even though, proportionally speaking, so many more people are angry about it then there are people actually saying/doing the thing. 

Where does it apply here? Well, last I checked there’s like 90K tweets about a so-called “Straight Pride Parade” going on somewhere on planet Earth. Checked the tab, everyone’s exclusively complaining about the concept. No actual news, only people reacting to other people reacting to other people reacting, etc. No, actually, guess what, here’s the news, from good ol’ Twitter Moments themselves: “THREE men in Boston...” THREE. It’s literally a tiny friend group of mindless white guys going “Hey, we should have a pride parade too!” and suddenly the entire internet folds upon them. And now, guess what? Now all the worse straight guys know about it, and feel vindicated to advocate for it, so guess what? You played yoselves.

But, there’s the tie-in to the next thought: What about these “Straight Pride,” “It’s okay to be White,” “It’s okay to be Male” types? You know, people at the top of the charts trying to start the same movements as the people below them. To be honest, I really don’t think these people are worth getting so goddamn uppity about. I mean, assholes aren’t worth getting uppity about in any case, but specifically in this case. The thing about those ideas is that they’re “”””””literally””””””” true and fair, but the thing is that that’s not the issue here. Yes, it’s okay to be white, straight, and male, but like... That’s not the discussion. The whole point of what’s going on is people trying to rise up in the rankings. Some idiots on the internet may want to put the top people below them, but as mentioned 2 ideas ago, that’s not the majority. Reasonable people would only want to put the straight, white, male people below them if they, specifically, individually, are being an asshole about everything. Then, that’s about you as a person, not what you are. 

Back to the Straight Pride Parade specifically, aren’t these “pride parades” supposed to exist to make you feel better about your body and whatnot? If some jackasses feel better about themselves, and do so in a fashion that isn’t harmful to other people, then who cares? I’m assuming it’s not in the spirit of things to go to a normal pride parade and be like “FUCK STRAIGHT PEOPLE” so as long as the straight people don’t do the opposite either, who cares? It’s a net increase of happiness in the world. Sure, they haven’t gone through as many hardships throughout history, but should you really need to go through hardship to get together with other people to feel better about themselves? I hope the answer is no. You know, just because the idea I mentioned 3 ideas ago is bullshit doesn’t mean it doesn’t actually affect people.

Frankly, why can’t we just have a Sexuality Pride Parade, where literally everyone, no matter what, can join in? If unity’s the goal, why not actually be all-inclusive? I mean, like I said, I want to live my life around the idea that sexuality/gender matters as much to any random person as their hair color, but until that becomes the norm at least try and make it fit for everyone to join in. You can’t exactly fix anything if you just keep it all to the people who’d support you anyway because they’re in the same boat. 

Oh and expect me to gush about Pokemon tomorrow, because I most certainly will.

[thorbruceweek-blog]

Alphabet Magnets (Two Boyfriends for the Price of One)

Day 2: Height Difference

5 times Thor loves their height difference and one time Thor REALLY loves their height difference.

There wasn’t much to it in the beginning, really. Thor just started noticing these little moments that wouldn’t have any deeper meaning for anyone else, but of course, Thor was able to connect the dots quickly. Everything was always quick for him when it came to Bruce.

i

The first time Thor noticed it, they were at Peter’s graduation ceremony. (Tony had decided to reserve a whole row of seats for the Avengers, reasoning that it would be fun to stick it to all the assholes who spent four years terrorizing his protege. He refused to admit - though everyone knew - that he was really just doing whatever he could to make Peter smile brighter than the sun as he walked up on stage.) They were sitting next to each other, silently enjoying one another’s presence as students walked up to receive their diplomas. The L’s had just started, and everyone smiled when Peter’s friend Ned was called up and Peter cheered enthusiastically.

Seemingly out of nowhere, a man who was at least six-foot-four ran into the seating area in a panic and settled into the chair directly in front of Bruce.

“Oh my god, are you kidding me?” Bruce muttered under his breath.

Of course, Thor heard him and was immediately concerned. “What’s wrong,” he asked, turning his full attention to Bruce, honestly and truly expecting the worst possible situation.

“It’s nothing, hun, I’m fine. I just can’t see now that this giant is sitting right in front of me. Even as a grown man, I still have this problem…”

Thor’s face brightened immediately and he gave Bruce a small smile. “Is that it? Come on, you can have my seat.” With this, Thor simply stood up and motioned for Bruce to move over to the newly vacated chair. Once he caught on - bless his heart; the poor guy was still figuring out how to respond to the many genuine acts of service he received from Thor - Bruce slid over, all the while staring directly at Thor’s magnanimous smile. Thor sat back down next to Bruce, looping a comforting arm around his shoulder in the process. “Better now?”

Without even turning his head away from Thor’s face to reassess his field of vision, Bruce just nodded. “Yeah, uh. Thanks.”

Tony interjected a sarcastic “Why don’t you just sit on his lap?” which made Bruce blush, and that was that.

ii

Thor found Bruce in his office one night, clearly exhausted and obviously stumped beyond measure. He frowned a little (because his boyfriend should never be in that state), walked over to Bruce, and greeted him by brushing his hands along his shoulders, kneading into the muscles near his neck. Bruce honest-to-god moaned, like something out of a porno, which went directly to Thor’s dick, and he scrambled for something to think about to stop the rush of blood to his groin - evil sea monsters? an old lady in a robe? Korg?

Thankfully, Bruce interrupted Thor’s destructive imagination by complaining, “This data is just impossible to understand. I’ve run every kind of analysis I can think of, and it still doesn’t make any sense.” He groaned, crossing his arms on his desk and dropping his head onto them. “I know there has to be a pattern to it, but I just don’t understand what that could be.”

Thor reached to run his fingers through Bruce’s unruly hair; brushed back a lock that was hanging over his face. “May I suggest you take a break for the night?” he asked, knowing there was a 98 percent chance Bruce would decline.

Bruce groaned painfully - a sound that broke Thor’s heart a little - and responded, “No, I don’t think I’d be able to sleep without figuring it out, anyway.”

“Hmm,” Thor deliberated for a moment. “How about a hug?”

“A what?”

“A hug! You always tell me I give spectacular hugs.”

Bruce spun around in his chair at that, looking into Thor’s eyes to see if he was messing around. He clearly found the answer he needed, and shrugged with a sheepish look on his face. “I guess it couldn’t hurt?”

“Perfect,” Thor responded, as he promptly grabbed Bruce by the shoulders and hauled him up to his feet, crushing him into Thor’s own chest.

Bruce stood still for a few seconds, apparently overwhelmed at how fast Thor had managed to do that, before he resigned himself to reaching his arms up around Thor’s neck and resting his forehead against his chest. Thor moved his arms to Bruce’s torso, pulling his beloved even tighter against his body. Their position allowed for Bruce’s head to be directly under Thor’s chin, and the very much taller man revelled in the feeling of Bruce’s nose pushed against Thor’s shirt, his breath coming out in slow, hot bursts, his curls tickling Thor’s jaw.

When Bruce yawned loudly and openly, Thor held back a cheer before wordlessly tugging a grumbling scientist to bed.

iii

The third time it happened, Thor knew he had a problem.

It was a thursday morning. He was sitting at the kitchen table reading the newspaper - an activity for which he had developed a liking simply because it made him feel like a real human - when Bruce trudged in from their bedroom, burnt out from the previous day’s mission and still not quite reacclimated to his human body. He beelined straight for the Keurig once he cleared the hall, a movement which had Thor smiling and setting the paper down in favor of greeting Bruce for the day.

He came up behind Bruce where he’d rested against the counter - simply placing his gigantic hands on Bruce’s shoulders and letting out a “Good morning, my beloved,” his go-to greeting as of the last few weeks.

Bruce whined and then reluctantly gave Thor a “Good morning” in return. Thor just chuckled at his crabby genius and gave him a kiss on the head before turning to return to his seat.

He made it almost all the way before he heard Bruce - very angrily, and to no one in particular - ask, “Where is my mug?”

Thor frowned and his eyebrow probably crinkled as he responded, “Well, the last time I saw it, Strange was putting the dishes away - not so much manually, but through magic. It actually looked quite magnificent, like something out of that movie we watched the other night… What was it…”

“Beauty and the Beast?” Bruce helpfully supplied, though he was still clearly annoyed.

“Yes, exactly! Anyway, I believe Stark asked him to put one of them on the highest shelf, and I have no clue why, but-” Thor trailed off once he saw Bruce’s face and realized he understood exactly why Tony might make such a request - like, just perhaps, to piss off one Doctor Bruce Banner. “Oh.”

The veins on Bruce’s neck started to turn green as he looked up to the top shelf of the mug cabinet and, sure enough, saw his mug sitting there, right on the edge.

Thor mentally freaked out for only a moment before he rushed back over to crowd Bruce against the counter - oh boy - and reach around him, grabbing the mug and setting it on the counter in front of him in one fluid motion. When he again put his hands on Bruce’s shoulders and could feel the pulse thrumming beneath the skin, he realized how much of an impact this height thing might have had upon both of them. And, yeah, when he peeked around to look at Bruce’s face, he realized it was definitely very red rather than green.

iv

The fourth time was simple but nonetheless overwhelming, and it definitely added to Thor’s feeling of well-and-truly-fucked-ness.

They were lying on the couch late at night, and Thor couldn’t actually tell whether or not Bruce was asleep, but they were both breathing evenly, and Thor’s hand was running along Bruce’s back, and they were both very much at peace.

He felt Bruce stir, accommodating for the movement while guiding Bruce’s head, and successfully managed to rest his chin directly on top of the matted curls that created a halo atop Bruce’s angelic face. Thor once again revelled in this sensation, loving how Bruce completely came apart within his grasp, the way only he was able to hold Bruce like this; to love him and protect him.

He had no clue how much time went by as he simply wrapped himself around Bruce and enjoyed their proximity, but it was long enough for him to fall into a deep sleep, never once letting go of the man he loved so much.

In the morning, they were both greeted by a printed photo of them stuck to the refrigerator with three colored alphabet magnets that spelled gay.

v

Thor had decided to stop pretending his problem wasn’t really a problem. He had accepted it. It felt truly freeing to admit to himself that he had quite a strong fixation, and he decided not to let himself feel shameful over it - because it was nothing to be ashamed about! It was a perfectly normal, healthy obsession with the difference between his height and Bruce’s! Not that weird! Everyone has gotten a little light-headed and a little too turned on when they noticed their partner’s lesser stature at some point or another! It’s simply human nature! And Thor definitely knew enough about human behavior to know this!

So, yeah. He had decided the time of hiding was over. The next time he saw Bruce, he was going to confront this issue rather than concealing it, and that would give him the opportunity to overcome it. He was sure of this.

That’s how he found himself ambushing Bruce as he turned a corner, pushing him up against a bare wall - certainly confronting the Height Difference Thing.

“Oh my god, Thor, what are you doing?” Bruce whisper-shouted, a behavior that often presented itself when Thor was being inappropriate.

“I’ve noticed the difference in our heights many times recently, and I have come to understand that I enjoy it… Quite a lot.”

That left Bruce nearly speechless; he went bright red immediately and simply said, “Oh.”

“Furthermore,” Thor continued, trying his best to sound Reasonable and Smart, “I believe that you may also enjoy it.” At this, he started mouthing along down Bruce’s neck, inciting a whimper from the smaller man. “I think this is worth exploring, don’t you?”

Bruce was almost completely unable to respond to this, but somehow, he was able to squeak out a “Yeah.”

They were against that wall for quite a while. And then in the bedroom. And then the shower.

vi

The other time it happened, Thor was not expecting it at all. It was a completely different feeling. It truly blindsided him, and at the same time, it was the best moment of them all.

They had just finished taking down (read: completely obliterating) a clandestine Hydra base, and just as they were double checking the rubble to make sure nothing of use had remained, Thor felt himself lifted off the ground, completely swept off of his feet and tossed into the air like a hacky sack. Before he could properly register what it was that did this to him, he landed in the largest, greenest, most comfortable arms he had ever seen.

He looked up and saw Hulk smirking down at him, and just like that, he had developed a whole new Height Difference Thing.

Also on ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15539616

[stylinsonlibrary]

Do you know any good ones where one of them is asexual? Or both are?

ASEXUAL FIC REC

if you like having secret little rendez-vous by busancafe (1k)

louis is a villain sent to seduce the flash after his boss finds out the super hero was gay. turns out he isn't totally gay, but rather more like louis.

Show Me Baby That You Love Me So by pygmypuffle (1k)

Someone is leaving mistletoe all over their shared flat and Louis knows it's not him.

‘96 by orphan_account (2k)

harry and louis love each other very much. it's the nineties in london and everything is nice.

easy by achapterends (2k)

Harry and Louis share a bed. Louis comes out. Harry loves unconditionally.

A Dash of Salt by pinkskies (2k)

Louis has trouble finding dates comfortable with his asexuality, Zayn tries to help him out, and Harry loves memes. There's a deadline somewhere in there.

I Study Rainbows by orphan_account (3k)

He stopped himself mid sentence. Never had he had to say the words out loud. That he was pan. That he was asexual, which was a thing that was more frowned upon than being gay or lesbian or even bisexual. He was ashamed of himself for not saying it aloud. He had no problem with what he was. Never had any problem. But it was just actually saying it that made it more real, if that made sense. It made sense for Harry.

could we ever be enough? by thepriestthinksitsthedevil (3k)

“You know - we don’t have to have sex, right?” Louis asked slowly, turning Harry’s face up to look into his eyes. “I just want to be with you. I don’t want to do anything that you’re not completely comfortable with.”

“I am comfortable,” Harry lied. “It’ll be better next time. When I’m less nervous.”

Or: asexual Harry struggles with finding normalcy in his relationship with Louis, and it takes Louis reminding him that he's too special to have a normal relationship for him to come to terms with it.

The Road to Acceptance by distortedrain (4k)

Louis comes out to the boys as asexual one at a time, in order of age (or best friend-ness). They're awkward, awkward, awkward, except for one of them.

We Put Our Love First by MoreThanTonight (4k)

Strangers Like Me. by kotabear24 (4k)

Harry is a trans woman. Louis is asexual. They are happily in love.

A story about discovering yourself in the safety of the arms of your loved one.

Almost Perfect by ItsTeatimeSomewhere (5k)

Most people don't appreciate the graffiti of dicks going up around the neighbourhood, but Harry is intrigued.

Maybe We’re Fireproof by quietlycrash (7k)

The classic Harry and Louis love story including fake dating and evil management, with a twist: Harry is asexual.

a lightning in your eyes i can’t deny by vanillabeanniall (7k)

Harry first met Louis in a toy store when he was six.

He fell in love with him over the course of a few years.

The dramatic story of the ace fic you never knew you wanted.

different colors by enterprisecaptainoikawa & kingdavidbowie (7k)

“I’m gonna go try and,” Louis considers his options for a moment. He’s seen hundreds of romance movies, knows how this goes. “Movie magic,” he tells Zayn. “I’m gonna try for that.”

His first grand plan involves tossing an exorbitant amount of cash in guitar boy’s open case. Except Louis doesn’t have an exorbitant amount of cash on him. He’s got a couple of quarters in his jeans, and he’s probably going to need those to ride the bus eventually. Plan B involves tossing a rose into the case, maybe with his phone number scrawled on a slip of paper wrapped around it. Louis is also short on flowers, as it is.

In the end, he does what’s probably the best thing possible: he completely fucks it up.

Like Him by b0yfriendsinl0ve (7k)

Louis must be dreaming, because there’s a pretty boy who’s like him and seems to like him and how can that be real.

Well Here We Go Again by ItsTeatimeSomewhere (8k)

People like Louis don't have soulmates, because people like Louis can't be loved.

Come On Make It Easy, Say I Never Mattered by madsuptonogood (8k)

Tattoo parlor/flower shop au. Harry runs the tattoo parlor where Zayn gets his piercings done, and one fateful day Zayn brings Louis with him. Niall and Zayn scheme, Harry draws lots of flowers, Louis teases him, because what is healthy affection, and Liam pops in to act like the protective dad he is.

let it be, you can’t make it come or go by wlwpeggycarter (12k)

“My friends and everybody else, they want something, but I- I don’t want it. And it scares me because I know that I should want it, but I just don’t. I feel alone, and like no one understands me. And I don’t know if there is something wrong with me for not wanting it, or if it’s something else, but I’m scared that I won’t be like everyone else when I get older, and I have to lie to people about it, and I just want to stop lying.” Harry takes a deep breath after that, feeling scared after he just told his biggest secret to someone. But, what he said didn’t make that much sense because he left out many important words (i.e.- sex).

Harry is ace, and he meets Louis at a party. They get separated, but they find each other again.

To call for hands of above (to lean on) by starsinoureyes (12k)

Harry finds a cat. She likes him and he likes her. Then he takes her to the vet.

Like to Keep You Laughing by kikikryslee (12k)

Louis gasped. “Are you straight? Oh, I'm sorry, man. You should’ve just told me; I would’ve left you alone.”

“No, no, that’s not it," Harry said. "I like guys. I definitely like guys.”

“OK…”

“Louis, I’m ace.”

Louis snorted. “Kind of full of yourself, aren’t you?”Or, the one where Louis is a frat boy who likes to hook up and Harry is someone who doesn't hook up ever.

The Thinker of Tender Thoughts by SpeakingWithInk (13k)

Louis sits on his hands to stop them from shaking as he adds, ‘and I’m ace.’ If only he had glitter, he thinks. Coming out deserves a bit of sparkle.

Lost in You by loviedovielou (15k)

Harry is nineteen and thinks kissing is weird. This is his first problem, but certainly not his last.

you’re bleeding, but you’ll be okay by strong (17k)

Louis loves people easily, yet it's difficult for him to find someone to love him in return. He meets Harry at a concert neither of them wants to attend.

All These Little Games by jwdish98 (20k)

There were four things that Louis learned very early on in this whole mess.

One, Harry Styles was absolutely beautiful. The most beautiful person to ever live, probably. Two, Louis was kind of in love with her already. Somehow. She couldn’t help it, really. Three, Harry absolutely didn’t feel the same way about her.

And, four, everything-- absolutely everything-- was Niall’s fault.

we could be stars by transstevebucky (23k)

“Me watching makeup tutorials.” His voice is shaking. He wants to deny it, but Harry knows everything and stores the information away for perusal afterwards. “It doesn’t mean anything.”

Harry nods, slowly, like he doesn’t want to scare him away.

“It’s okay if it does mean something, though,” he begins, smooth and gentle, mouth resting against the line of Louis’s jaw. It’s comforting in a way it wouldn’t be with anyone else. “You know that, right?”

or; Louis falls down the rabbit hole of makeup, and Harry's always there to catch him.

Looking in the dark (with an empty heart) by starsinoureyes (25k)

In a perfect world One Direction is not interviewed by idiots. In a perfect world Harry doesn't have to defend his relationship with Louis.

Harry and Louis are out, and the whole world loves their love story, until an interviewer takes hints that they're together for a very long time now, and their libido must have changed since they were young. They don't say anything, until the media turns against them, saying their relationship must be very dull after all these years.The only thing the media doesn't know, that Louis is asexual. His biggest fear is that Harry will leave him because of it, even though Harry grabs every chance to comfort him how perfect their relationship is, and he wouldn't want to change anything.

So when in an interview the host directly calls them out on their sex-life, Harry snaps at them without thinking, outing Louis.

wait up, i’m coming home by hattalove (28k)

The boy beams. It’s brighter than the lights dotting the sidewalk into the distance. Louis is absolutely entranced by the stretch of his lips and the way his jaw gives way to his neck, pale skin and smooth bone. There’s something about him that reminds Louis of a sunset, a painting, a beautiful thing.

or the one where louis finds harry, then loses him, then finds him again. a flawless performance from fate featuring some penguins, some celestial bodies, and a whole lot of tea.

Ace by aclosetlarryshipper (32k)

It’s real. He can’t keep denying it. Denial has just made things more difficult. Acceptance is the first stage to anything.

Louis sniffles and pulls the sun visor down, flipping it open to reveal the mirror. He stares into his own icy eyes, grimacing at the red rim around the edges.

He tries to say the words, but they still feel too final and condemning.

Or The sexuality crisis you probably haven't read.

if you love me by transstevebucky (35k)

“You could pretend to be my partner.” Harry has his hands tucked in his lap, like he’s making a professional business decision, and not destroying Louis’s life.

“No.” He tries, and a grin stretches at Harry’s mouth. “I said no, arsehole.”

“Louis,” and it’s not fair that Harry puts his puppy eyes on, “please pretend to be my fake partner so I don’t have to cry about lying to my mum.”

“Okay,” it’s a nail in his coffin, and he knows that, “I’ll be your fake boyfriend.”

He hopes the alarms in his head stop blaring soon.

au. pretending to be your best friend’s boyfriend has never been so easy.

Crying lightning by frenchkiss (42k)

Louis doesn't remember the accident, and when he wakes up he finds that he doesn't remember any of the last ten years of his life either. All he knows is there's some curly-haired bloke by his bed claiming to be the husband he shares a house, a dog, and a life with, two siblings he's never met before waiting for him in the waiting room, and more niggling questions at the back of his head than anyone can physically answer.

This really isn't how he planned to spend his Wednesday.

Here’s also the 1D Aro-Ace Fic Exchange

[codezeta-liveblog-blog]

Bonds 1.6 - After coffee, want to grab some pizza?

Just a FYI, my cellphone flipped the fuck out when selecting the text, so it decided to show right in my face one thing I didnt want to see: I know now that by the ending of this chapter there will be nothing within something. I'm hoping it isnt something that is going to be built through the entire thing, and just a last time development. Sorry for that.

I paced.  The Demesnes text in hand, I walked from one end of the living room to the other, then walked back.

Another trip back and forth, and I stopped by the window, using the edge of the book to push the curtain back.  It was dusk outside, just past sunset, day two, and some of the locals had emerged.

If I didn’t know better, I might have thought the locals were trying to put pressure on me.  Men and women, some children, simply staking out the perimeter of the fence.  Some of them paced like I was doing, like tigers in their cell, while others were patient, smoking or holding phones to their ears.  A number of the ‘children’ were standing on the short stone wall, hands wrapped around the metal curls and spikes of the railing, eyes on the house.  Some talked, others were silent.

Most were normal enough I wouldn’t have looked twice.  A handful weren’t.  One little boy, separate from the others, kept scratching at his head, face, neck and arms, his fingers coming away black with his own blood, or so it appeared in the gloom.  I could see the gouge marks, dark lines cut into his skin, he would turn away, and they would be gone the next time I got a chance to see.  There was a woman with hair, hat and coat covering much of her face, but when I did get a glimpse, I saw only vague, black smudges where her eyes and mouth should be.  She held a cigarette up near her face, but never inhaled from it.  The others seemed rather intent on avoiding her, giving her a wide berth as she paced.

Gore doesn't do anything for me, put scratching/itchyness is somehow more creepy. Maybe it has to do with the feeling of helplessness. Wounds, blood, missing limbs, its somehow fine, maybe manageable or expected depending on the setting. But self inflicted madness-inducing itchyness? Something you can't get OUT of you? Thats what does it for me in the creepyness scale.

A car passed down the length of the road.  I tried to use the headlights to get a better look at the things, but the headlights revealed a mostly empty sidewalk, no Others but a small group of the ‘children’ that had hopped down from the fence and were simply walking as a group, heads covered by hats and hoods, hardly worthy of a glance.

My eyes had to adjust from focusing on the headlights.  The Others appeared from dark spots, and stepped out from behind the pillars that framed the gate.

I let the curtain drop, then resumed the pacing.  I’d read the same page five or six times.

“You’re making me nervous,” Rose said, startling me.  “You’ve been pacing the entire time I’ve been gone?”

Her hair was wet.  She’d left to go shower, but she still wore the same clothes as before.  Apparently she had running water, on her side.  That was interesting, considering there wasn’t necessarily anything for the pipes to connect to.

“I’m nervous,” I said.  “I ordered pizza, but I didn’t think they’d come crawling out of the woodwork like this.  There’s a good ten or so out there.”

“Why did you order pizza?” she asked.

“Because I’m hungry?”  I responded.  “There’s nothing more than the most basic stuff in the kitchen, I’m going to go crazy or get sick living off flour tortillas, canned beans and tuna, and since I’ve got to figure out a way to keep myself supplied, I might as well start sooner than later.”

“Pizza isn’t supplies.”

“Pizza is a way of testing the waters,” I said.  “Will anyone in this town do business with me?  If I can’t order a pizza, I might have trouble getting groceries delivered.  If I can’t get groceries delivered, then I need to find a reliable, safe way of going outside.”

“So you put a pizza guy in the line of fire?”

“There wasn’t a line of fire when I called,” I said.  I looked outside again.  “It’s hard to keep track of time.  My sleep schedule’s all over the place, my eating schedule’s off track, and the days are short.  It’s dangerous, and it’s going to fuck me up.  Need to get back in the habit of sleeping at night and eating on time.  As is, I didn’t figure it would get dark so soon, and I didn’t figure they’d appear like this.”

“I know,” she said.  “Except I don’t even have the physical needs to gauge by, and it’s awfully dark in here.”

I peeked outside.

Two Others had joined the group.  One was very talkative, engaging with the eyeless, mouthless woman who had the cigarette, even venturing into the four or five foot bubble of personal space around her that the rest seemed to be respecting.

I reached for the phone.  Mind changed.

“Bell Pizza.  What can I do you for?”

“I’d like to cancel my order,” I said.

“You’ve already paid for your order.  The food is made and is on its way.  We can’t provide a refund.”

“It’s fine.  Keep the money.  Just call back the delivery guy so he doesn’t waste his time.”

There was a pause.

“I’m sorry.  We can’t refund your pizza, because we already prepared it.  It should be there in ten minutes or less.”

He was feigning ignorance, with a touch of a bad accent, but he couldn’t hide the smugness.

“You’re being intentionally dense,” I said.

The guy on the other end hung up.

“Fuck,” I said.

# I'm having weird flashbacks of RE4. But every villager is out to get you psychologically and the bosses are staring at you from the window and you cant do shit about it. Really like the alien-ness (?) Of the situation here. Never read something like thia.

“So… now what?” Rose asked.

“I don’t know,” I said.  “I doubt he’ll give me a fair hearing if I call back.  I don’t really know what to expect, here.  Even reading up on the basics, it doesn’t get into much depth about this.”

Rose nodded, “Essentials and Famulus were more focused on Other-practitioner relationships than general Other-human relationships.”

I could see her fidgeting.  I leaned forward.  “Earlier, you said you were nervous.  How does that work?  You don’t breathe any harder, since you don’t breathe.  Does your heartbeat pick up?  Does your body flood with the stress hormones, making you fidget?”

“That’s a no on every count,” she said.  I turned away from the window to look at her.  She elaborated, “My body’s always the same.  Stable, steady, there, but not doing anything except… I dunno.  Maintaining appearances?”

“But you get nervous.”

“My brain gets nervous,” she said.

“I’m not sure that makes sense, but okay,” I replied.  I looked down at the page I’d been rereading for the past twenty minutes, then tossed the book down onto the coffee table.

“You’re onto Demesnes,” she observed, craning her head to peer down.  “Me too.”

“It’s a fitting thing to read up on, here,” I said.  “Making your own sanctuary, while we have enemies gathering at the gates.  It seems like a pretty simple ritual.”

“Deceptively simple,” Rose said.

“Yeah, deceptively simple,” I agreed.  “You stake out the area, the magical equivalent of drawing out your borders and planting a flag, you say a few words, and you invite anyone, everyone and everything that objects to come and challenge you.  Trial by combat, riddles, placating them with deals, whatever you agree on.  The bigger the area you try to claim, the bigger the invitation you broadcast.  They each get to confront you the once, and the ritual ends when there are no challengers left, or when a set amount of time passes.  Claim a space the size of a closet, maybe get five to ten objections.  Claim a house, get fifty.”

Man did I have this backwards from the reddit. I thought it was a safe spot and that wad it. I'm glad i didn't know the full details though!

“I’m thinking that’s one of the last things we want to do,” Rose said.  “When we have a familiar, and when we have an implement, so we have some ability to fight.”

“Except,” I said, “It’s a bit of a catch-22, isn’t it?  The demesne gives us a steady supply of power, with bigger spaces giving us more power.  It’s a sanctuary, and a place where we can bend the rules in our favor.  Right?  So we need a tool or a familiar to lay claim to as big a space as we can pull off.”

“Yes.”

“But we can’t infuse our tool until we have some power to infuse it with,” I said.  “Except…”

“That power would ideally come from the demesne,” Rose said.

I nodded, “Or the familiar, in terms of strength and shaping how the tool functions.  And we can’t start talking with Others about bringing them on board as a familiar until we have some established power already.”

“Necessitating a tool and a claim to some land,” Rose finished for me.  “Each of the three things requires the two others.”

I nodded.  “Or it necessitates a compromise.  We pick one front, we make it easy, like you suggested, go with the bare minimum.  Do one thing badly, use the leverage we gain to do the next thing in a mediocre way, and then use the two things to do really well with the last ritual.”

My pacing resumed, though I had my hands free, and I could stick them in the pockets of my wool hoodie.

Seems like the sort of thing I would never start at any point. I'm too undecisive when it comes to these things haha. I wonder if theres really no way to turn this situation over. Maybe something at the reunion will happen to make people side with him? Althought that wouldnt fir what we know on how many enemies grandma Rose has accumulated over the years. What to do what to do...

“How do the others do it?” Rose asked.  “The Behaims and the Duchamps?”

“They have backup, I imagine,” I said.  “A mom and dad who are willing to sit in on a meeting with a familiar and vouch for them, or maybe even have a familiar arranged from early on or before the kid is born, things ready-made, a space set aside.”

“Magical trust fund kids,” Rose said.

“Basically,” I said.

“What about the North End Sorcerer?”

“What about him?”

“I take it you didn’t read the little black book from cover to cover?  Look him up.”

I shuffled through the tomes to find where I’d put the book. “I was going to read it later, after the major four were done, before the council meeting.”

“You don’t need to make excuses to me,” Rose said.  She had her own copy.  “Um.  Page thirty-two.”

I opened the tiny book.

Johannes Lillegard, believed to be an adopted name.  Practitioner.  The newest arrival in Jacob’s Bell as of August thirteenth, ‘ought-nine, he arrived at the council meeting of said date.  Johannes appears no older than twenty-five, but all facts suggest he claimed his demesne six or more years ago, a region spanning all of Jacob’s Bell, west and north of the hospital as well as the entire expansion north of the bridge.

I paused in my reading there, to ask, “The bridge?”

“The highway,” Rose said.  “It becomes a bridge where it passes over the marshland here.”

I pictured it, then stopped short.  “Wait, the commercial area north of the highway?  With the train station, the shops-”

“-The condos, the mall, the prefab houses, yes.”

“As his demesne?  The book talks about it in the context of rooms, of houses at the most.”

Rose didn’t reply.  When I glanced her way, she was nodding, a serious look joining the general exhaustion on her face.

“There’s a catch there,” I said.  “A drawback.”

“Oh, right, you’re only partway through,” Rose said.  “Demesnes are like trademarks.  Periodically, people are going to test them.  You need to respond, but you have the home court advantage.  The law’s on your side.  But if you claim something that broad, and if you can’t or don’t defend it when someone else puts one foot over the line, that weakens your stance.  But he’s defending it.”

Look at this guy! How many dozens do you call to attention when you try to claim something that big? I imagined the constant contest for desmenes would be a thing, like a pokemon go gym sort of competition. But good to know you have the advantage at first. Must be scary to get called out for that, the person surely must think they have the upper hand to begin with then. Meaning that they must have information that you are not aware that they have.

“How?”

She pointed back at the little black book.

I read.

In conversation with Aimon Behaim and Sandra Duchamp, we mutually agreed that Johannes must have claimed the territory prior to the expansion appearing, though we’re unsure of when this might have been, for none of us to hear the claim or be able to respond to it, nor how he was able to do this at what might have been the age of thirteen or fourteen.  Mara has declined to answer any questions, being more taciturn than her usual,

Johannes seems to bear harsh wounds, no doubt tying back to his ambitious claim, with no use of one eye, one hand and one leg, though the tissues appear undamaged.  He bears a set of antique pipes as his implement, and has a Gatekeeper of the Seventh Ring (ref Astral Bodies: vol 3, and Prime Movers) as his familiar, named Faysal Anwar, which takes the form of a rather large Afghan Hound.

Note: Johannes has made his second appearance at council meetings, February sixth, year two thousand and ten.  Occasion to expand my notes.  Arrogant, and justified in it.  Enigmatic.  He spends almost all of his time within his demesne, stepping outside only to defend his claim and attend occasional meetings.  This makes gathering information hard.  Favors manipulation of space.

Note: Touching up all of my notes, for my soon-to-be heiress.  He is a manipulator, content to bait people and lure them to their doom.  Fitting, given the implement of choice.  He safeguards his demesne by making it a fiefdom, with neighborhoods held by Others and a handful of lesser practitioners.  Stay clear, this is a threat you do not need to face down.

I looked up at Rose.  “He’s powerful, then.”

She said, “He doesn’t have a family.  He had nothing given to him in advance, as far as we know.  But he managed something.”

“Okay,” I said.  “So there are obviously other options.  Approached directly, the situation is filled with contradictions and obstacles, but maybe there’s an oblique answer, like Johannes found?”

So there was NO response. Even more intriguing than him just being powerful. He exploited something, found his loophole and only then became powerful. He is the king from the visions right? I’m pretty sure he is. Wasn’t the city twisted in his "kingdom" though? Hm. He was the one that seemed the most nice towards Blake in those visions. What are his motives then? Helping Blake, befriending him or just taking over enough so that he himself has access to the ‘literal’ nukes?

“Like what I was talking about with the witch hunters,” Rose said.

That again.  I shook my head.

“You’re refusing my ideas too fast,” she said, and the emotion in her voice caught me off guard.  She was irritated, upset.  “Have you even read up on witch hunting, Blake?”

“No,” I said.  “Have you?”

“I can’t.  I need you to rotate the mirror in the study.  Damn it, listen, there are things we can learn to do that don’t rely on familiar, implement or demesne.  Like Laird’s shamanism.”

“Okay,” I said.  “I’m very on board with that.”

“But you aren’t on board with getting the protections witch hunters have?  If anything’s going to get us killed, it’s a knee-jerk reactions and making stupid assumptions.”

“It’s not that I don’t like the idea of protection,” I said.  “But when someone says ‘witch hunter’, it makes me think of hunting things.  Fighting, instead of defense.  And I think that any of those protections we might use as practitioners are going to be found in books for practitioners.  It’s hard enough without overcomplicating it, sifting through all the stuff we can’t use for some tidbits we could find elsewhere.  Can we compromise?  Maybe focus on getting this wizardry crap down, and we’ll look at the witch huntery stuff later, as the side project it is?”

Thats the problem right there isnt it? You cant go on the defensive in this situation, Blake is still holding out to some hope. He is the outside element being thrown into a volatile situation. I already see the escalation coming from miles away.

When I looked at Rose, she was frowning, eyebrows knit.  tapping her hand on some surface in front of her.

We were similar in other ways.  Prone to anger.  But something told me that Rose wasn’t one to actually show or exercise that anger.

Something to watch for, if she was bottling up her stress.  What outlets did she have to vent it, and how would she react if she couldn’t?

“Fine,” she said, in that way that girls were so very good at.  She took a deep breath, then sighed.  Purely for effect, I imagined.  Calmer, she said, “We shelve that idea.  We can use trickery, deception, manipulation, to get our foot in the door, get one of the three major things we need.”

“Agreed,” I said.  “Harder than it sounds, because Others are naturally deceptive and are probably looking out for those tricks.”

“What else?  We could try marshaling forces, like he is.  We need a good rapport with Others to figure out who we might pick for a familiar, right?”

“There’s a problem with that,” I said.  I reached for the mirror, then stopped.  “May I?”

“Yes.”

I lifted the mirror from where I’d hooked it onto the bookcase, then carried it to the window, pushing the curtains apart.  I set the bottom end of the mirror on the windowsill.

There were five more Others than before.  All clustered around the fence.  The rest were still there.  Waiting.

Rose was turned away from me, so I couldn’t see her, and she was silent, leaving me to stand there, presenting our situation.

“That’s the issue, right now.  That’s the biggest complication we’re facing with the rituals, with life in general.  Someone’s done the equivalent of putting a price out on our head, or they said that the usual rules for going after someone in an inhabited area are on hold, for me, or for us,” I said, my voice low.  “We can’t conduct any rituals, because those guys are waiting to fuck us up.”

“That-” Rose started.

Nooo dont get interrupted. I need that knowledge. She recognized someone or something didnt she? I love how her psychology and just how she works in general is being this build-up mystery that is probably going to blow up in my face when she suddenly vanishes forever out of nowhere in a critical momment or something.

She stopped short as a car appeared, parking at the far end of the street, a sign perched on top.

This time, seeing the vehicle approach, I could see how the Others moved out of the way of the headlights.  Stepping literally into shadows, or stepping to a position where they were out of sight.  In the latter case, it looked like they were stepping out of my field of view, to where the fence or columns on either side of the gate were blocking my view, but I felt like they were doing it for everyone that might be looking.  Finding a universal blind spot.

A guy stepped out of the car, holding the insulated bag with the pizza inside.  He crossed the street, and approached the gate.

“Stop him, Blake,” Rose said.

“I want to, but how?”

“I don’t know.  Shout?”

I strode to the front door, hauled it open, and bellowed, “Hey!”

Others appeared from the shadows by the gate, a ‘child’ with his back to the stone column, glancing my way.  Further down the street, I could see the faceless woman with the cigarette appear behind the delivery guy.

He didn’t stop walking.  When he shouted back, I couldn’t make out the words.

“Stop!  I don’t want it!  Go back to the car!”  I hollered.

Again, I couldn’t make out his reply.

I watched as the Others closed in.

I never thought I'd read a scary pizza delivery before.

The ‘little boy’ who’d been scratching himself walked down the street, so short I could barely make him out over the stone wall which bordered the property.

He approached the delivery man head on, not moving out of the way.  When it looked like they might collide, the ‘boy’ hopped up onto the short stone wall.  His hand around the man’s wrist.

A moment later, so fast I couldn’t see it, the boy slammed the delivery guy’s hand down on the railing.  The man screamed, dropping the pizza, hand impaled on the spiked railing that ran along the top of the short wall.  He tried to pull it free, but the ‘boy’ still had a grip on his wrist.

“Hey!”  I shouted.  I stepped out onto the porch.

NO DONT

A girl hopped up, using the man’s knee as a foothold, grabbing the delivery man by the jaw.  She was more monkey than child as she swung up onto the wall.  The momentum of the swing brought his head down and forward, driving it into the top of the railing.

I could hear the sound it made on impact, which said a lot, considering how I hadn’t been able to hear his words.  There was no saying how much was the upper row of teeth breaking on impact with the railing, or the sound of the jaw breaking as it was wrenched down with a sudden weight of the not-little-girl.

The girl let go, walking along the top of the railing, her arms extended to either side, pigtails swinging, the grin the only part of her I could make out beneath the winter clothes, too wide, filled with very white teeth that didn’t match each other.

I could hear his continued screams, now more strangled than they’d been.

I felt cold, paralyzed.  Had I just killed a man, simply by inviting him here?

The faceless woman caught up to him.  Her free hand reached into the back of his head, and I could make out the fingers reaching out the front, moving just beneath the skin, closing together into a fist over one of his eyes.  She moved her hand, leaving the skin bound shut in a knot of flesh, and she closed the other eye in the same manner.

Another movement, nearer the mouth and throat, and the screams were cut off.

Knitting, molding his flesh, almost casually.

My concern was no longer that I’d killed the man.  My concern was that he might live.

“Blake!”  Rose’s voice, from the living room.  “You have to help him!”

No he absolutely does not. Ge the fuck back inside. Dont be a hero. Call the police????(actually maybe don’t???). I mean, Timecop cant be happy his turf is being messed with by people he has not assingned.

I took a step forward, then stopped as the faceless woman continued her work.  Her fingers wriggled and crawled across the man’s scalp, just beneath his skin, burying his hair, reaching down to cover his ears.  Trapping him in his own skin, so his own flesh was a hood over his face.

“Blake!”

I thought back to one idle thought I’d had in the past hours.

The house was a sanctuary against Other and practitioner both.

I glanced around me, then very carefully took a step back through the door, past the threshold and into the house.

Laird had come to the front door.

“He’s dying!”

There were rules.  I couldn’t know which ones still held, here, which ones the locals had called off, while I was a problem.  But there were rules.

I remained where I was, watching.

She held the cigarette aloft, poised as if she might take a puff at any moment, while her other hand pulled free, then plunged into his chest cavity.

The muffled grunts and violent jerks he made in response were worse than the screams.

The talkative one kept chattering, nonstop, the ‘children’ making little sounds of amusement, laughing and cooing.  The others who’d joined in seemed content to watch, standing silently on the fringes.

I watched a car appear, traveling down the street from the opposite direction the delivery guy had come.  The talkative one practically leaped, taking hold of the faceless woman.  His momentum turned her around, and he leaned forward, simultaneously leaning her back, so they were pressed together, their bodies covering their victim.  I could see the talkative one’s face stop an inch from the smudged blur of hers.

The car passed, the headlights illuminating what the people in the car would see as two embraced lovers, kissing at the side of the street.  The remainder were hidden.  I watched as the car reached the end of the road, stopping at a stop sign.

“Blake, salt is a purifying material, cleansing.  It can work against certain Others,” Rose said.  “There’s a ton in the study, if you can’t find any in the kitchen.  Go and throw it at them!”

I didn’t move.

“Blake!  Please!”  She sounded desperate, now.

Make a salt gun. Slingshot the salt. Do not get close. Please Rose stop being so emotional. I do want to know of Blake has a plan, its looking increasingly like he has a plan. Is this deceitful? Not actually happening? The pizza guy over the phone seemed amused by the possibility of this happebing. Maybe its just to fuck with his head and its all going to be reversed soon, memories of the pain and all for the poor delivery guy. That would make much more contextual sense.

The car turned and disappeared out of sight.  The two Others broke apart, and the faceless woman clawed at the talkative one.  Vicious, angry, almost feral.  He gave her only laughs in response, as he ducked out of the way.

The faceless woman gave up and turned back to her victim.  I could see where she’d reached through his chest to grip the railing, fixing him to the metal.

Rose was screaming, now.  “Damn you, Blake!  Damn you!  God!  Fuck!”

She hit the mirror.

The noise Rose was making seemed to get attention.  The talkative one looked up at me.

I slowly shook my head.  I felt physically ill, all expression and utterances choked from me by the feeling of my heart in my throat.

But there was no fucking way I was going out there.

The talkative one said something to the others.

I saw the delivery guy lurch, tearing free in a mess of blood and ripped skin.  His dislocated jaw hung down his teeth a bloody ruin.

He laughed, and it wasn’t a human sound.

When he joined the ‘children’ in cavorting about, I allowed myself to believe it.  He wasn’t human.  He had never been.

An Other, joining the faceless woman in some psychological warfare.

I could hear them laughing, in the two or so seconds it took me to slam the door.

“It was a trick?” Rose asked, as I crossed the room to where I’d left the mirror in the window.  “They-”

I saw a movement immediately before Rose shrieked.  I grabbed the mirror, pulling it away from the window.

The little ‘girl’ with the toothy mouth and the pigtails peeking out from a hat that hid her eyes, hair and ears had appeared just outside the window.  She now scratched at the glass with long fingernails.

“They wanted me outside,” I said.  “The house is a sanctuary, the property isn’t.  Staying behind the railing like they were, it was meant to mislead us.  I might have fallen for it, if Laird hadn’t come all the way to the front door.”

“They’re clever.”

“The book warned us they were.”

“How sure were you?” she asked.  “That he wasn’t human?”

I didn’t answer.  Rose was staring at me, and I avoided her gaze.

Others were scratching and tapping on windows, now.  I heard a scrabbling, as if something was on the porch overhang.

“God,” Rose said.

“This is what Molly was dealing with,” I said, quiet.  My heart was still pounding, my mouth so dry I needed to try three times before I could speak again, but the fear and helplessness were disappearing.  I clenched my fist.  “All on her lonesome.  Hearing things just outside the house, all night.  Nowhere good to go for help.”

“We’re not in a great place either,” Rose said.

“No.  But we have each other,” I said.  “You had my back last night, with Padraic.  I might not have made it home in one piece without that.  Thank you, by the way, if I haven’t already said.”

“You have, twice, but it’s okay.  We’re figuring this out.”

I nodded.  My thoughts were going a mile a minute, but I had trouble saying just what the destinations were.

“What are you thinking?” Rose asked.

“I’m thinking…” I said, trying to sum it up.  “I think we’re almost ready.”

“Ready?”

“We’ve seen what kind of games the practitioners will play.  We’ve seen how the Others function, in part.  We have a sense of what we need to accomplish, and an abstract sense of how.  And maybe it helps a little that I’m a bit scared and a lot angry.”

“You want to awaken,” she said.

I nodded.  “Before the council meeting tomorrow.  Getting a familiar, the tool, and the demesne is something that can wait.”

“Yeah,” she agreed.  “I think we should.  You want to do it now, or do you need to eat first?”

“Two things, first,” I said.  “Eating isn’t one of them.”

I dialed the pizza place again.

“Bell Pizza, what can I do you for?”

“Hi-”

“No,” he said.  “Not doing business with you.”

“It’s about the pizza guy.”

“We never sent anyone.  I asked a driver if he wanted to go, he said he wasn’t delivering to a haunted house.”

The irony being this house was maybe the least haunted locale in Jacob’s Bell.

“I say it isn’t haunted, but it’s owned by you fucks, isn’t it?”

“One of us,” I replied.

“You’re Assholes, all of you, holding all the rest of us back.  You know my brother bought a place here, because this place was supposed to grow?  Except you’re not selling, and it’s losing value every year, needing more repairs.  You-”

These townies are both assholes and fucking stupid. You dont invest in something that is not 100% sure and then blame other people on it. Seriously, goddamn. You were a shit investor, get over it. "How could that rich fanily not sell their mansion, that money was MINE! :(" fuck off. The way these many people are interested in it, it would just end up being communism and everyone getting just a crumb of the pie.

“I just wanted to check the pizza guy wasn’t going to show,” I said, but he was talking over me.

“-off on the power, I think, bullies.  Knowing you’re driving the rest of us into ruin.  You want a fucking pizza?”

“I changed my mind a while ago, remember?”

“Fuck you.  Fuck yourself!  I already talked to the other pizza place.  Don’t expect a thing, until you’ve sold that place.  Fuck you.”

“Fine,” I said.  “It’s just pizza.”

But he’d already hung up.

It’s just pizza, I told myself.

“Fuck,” I said, as my annoyance bubbled to the surface.

“You can’t be surprised.  I mean, you knew people hated you here.”

“The woman at the coffee place was surprisingly respectful of the idea that I might be in mourning,” I said.

“Being a decent person and hating our guts isn’t mutually exclusive,” Rose said.

“Fuck,” I said again, still annoyed.

“It can’t be that big a deal, compared to what just happened outside.”

“You took a shower just a bit ago,” I said.

“Yeah?”

“Sorry to ask, but do you even get dirty, on that side?”

“No,” she said.  “Pretty sure I don’t.  Some dust, but I don’t sweat.”

“I’m guessing you needed to shower to enjoy a mundane comfort,” I said.  “Feel a bit more human.”

“Alright,” Rose said.  “Point taken.  Sorry about your pizza.”

I shrugged.

“I could do with more human comforts myself,” she said.

I nodded, “Something to figure out.  I’ll help any way I can.  But first-”

“Awakening,” Rose said.

I nodded.  “Meet you in the study.”

I took the stairs two at a time.

I’d opened the second secret door on the second floor, which made for a quicker arrival at the lower floor.  The room was far darker without the sunlight from above.

I twisted the knobs of the two lamps that sat on and beside the desk, respectively.  When the room was still too dark around the edges, I lit the oil lamps at the edges.  Each lamp illuminated a slice of the bookcases, cabinets or shelves to either side of them.  Where the lettering on books had been done in foil or a reflective material, the lamplight caught it, highlighting the scripts in a soft orange-yellow, while the books themselves remained dark.

By the time I’d finished, Rose had lit up the room on her side.  The light from behind her made the edges of her clothes and hair glow.

She held a wrought-iron compass, with a spike in one end and chalk embedded in the other.  I watched as she stabbed the floor, then walked in a circle, using the other arm to draw the wide circle in chalk.

She had the curved ruler that she used to measure the distance, then erased a spot.  She was reaching for the compass again when she looked at me.

As the ins and outs of her existance remain a mystery, I didnt think of the possivility of her doing the ritual too. Or needing to do it in any way. Maybe we can get twice the magic power in one person, but I somehow doubt it. I think what counts for Blake counts for Rose.

“Blake?”

“You’re doing the ritual too?”

“If I can,” she said.  “Aren’t you starting?”

“I said there were two things I needed to do first,” I said.

“Phoning the pizza place and…”

I crossed the room, lifting a book free of a shelf, then walked back into Rose’s field of view.

“No, Blake.”

I hefted the book.  Diabolatry, R.D.T.  The black cover was surprisingly flexible and soft, the lettering on the spine and cover were done in gold, catching the lamplight.

“No,” she said again, as if saying it over and over again with increasing intensity might drive it into my head.

“What was it you said?” I asked.  “Stupid knee-jerk assumptions are going to get us killed?”

“I’m all for stupid knee-jerk assumptions when we’re dealing with that.  Laird said they were the mystical equivalent of nuclear missiles.”

“I’m not proposing we use them.  But I want to know what we’re dealing with.”

“Blake.  You know that moment in the horror movies, where you’re screaming at the actors?  ‘Don’t go up the stairs’, ‘don’t touch the glowing skull’?  Don’t read the book.”

Would reading it be that destructive? Or does it only hold such implications of power that it draws you too much into it. Have you already read the book Rose?

I frowned.

“What are you even thinking?”

“That the things outside were horrifying, the faceless woman, the pseudo-faerie we ran into.  So… why are these things so much worse?  What makes them ‘nuclear’?  We’re walking into that meeting, and I can’t help but think that everyone there is going to know exactly what’s going on here, and we’re going to be in the dark.  We can’t afford to look weak or stupid.”

“We are weak and stupid,” Rose said.  “We’re untrained, ignorant, out of the loop, and we don’t have any of the good stuff that practitioners bring to the table.  No tools, no familiars, no demesnes, no tricks or any of that.

“We can’t afford to let on how badly off we are.  Having one tidbit of info we can allude to, to scare the pants off them if we need it-”

“-Is liable to get us killed,” Rose finished for me.  “I get it, wanting to know just what we’re sitting on, but handling the dangerous goods is not the way to find out.”

I hefted the book, feeling its weight.

“Come on,” she said, lowering her voice to be gentler, “I compromised earlier.  Can you do the same?”

“Damn it,” I said.

“Is that a ‘yes’ damn it or a ‘no’ damn it?”

“Yes,” I said.

I moved to put the book on the bookshelf.  A flap of paper caught on the shelf, keeping me from sliding it into place.

When I pulled the book back, the paper dropped.  Fragments of dry wax and a small key danced across the floor.

Folded into thirds, it had been sealed into an envelope of sorts by wax.  The key had apparently been melted into the wax, only to be freed by the impact.

“Leave it,” Rose said.  “Nothing good comes of that.  Sweep it under the desk, ignore it.  Please?”

“I would,” I said, “But wax makes a seal, and that seal just broke.”

“That’s reaching,” Rose said.

“Okay, maybe,” I said.  “But tell me you can’t imagine a drawing of something coming to life and crawling free of that page.”

“Now you’re being manipulative,” Rose said, “Playing to my paranoia.”

“You didn’t answer the question.”

With the way things work in figurative ways and meanings, yes, that is very plausible, but also what a nice little fuck-up we have stumbled on.

“Yes, I can imagine it.  Yes, are you happy?”

I wasn’t.  I picked up the page.  On the backside, there were only two words.

My heiress.

I turned it around.

My heiress,

If you’ve come this far, there must be a pressing need.  You’ve been driven into a corner, or the situation is otherwise dire.  I imagine time may well be paramount.  Remember that haste makes waste, and you must step with utmost care from this point on.

I’ve left you something, or perhaps it is more correct to say I’ve left you someone.  I refer to him as Barbatorem, making a small joke, as I tend to do, but he is an older one, bearing some status and a few stories from years past, with no name of any meaning that has survived the passage of time.  You should be able to find those stories and notes on that status in Dark Names, p. 38.

You’ll find him waiting in the tower room, which you will need the key to enter.  Staying outside the circle is first in your list of things to keep in mind, which I list here because there are no better places to put the warning.  I should hope such obvious things don’t need to be stated.

Do we have a demon in the attic? I think we have a demon in th attic.

Cast aside all notion of manners.  Do not greet him, do not ever say please or thank him.  Do not ask him if he would or could do something.  Give him no food or succor.  There are older meanings in these things and they will either free him or give him power over you.  Sometimes it is very little power, and sometimes it is all the power he needs to achieve his ends.

Put aside all metal and reflective things before entering the tower room, and ensure the space remains dark.  He exists in a more abstract capacity, whatever physical forms he takes, and if his image is cast in a surface, he will exist in that surface, allowing him to step free of that surface and the confines of the circle.  For these same reasons, do not ever look directly at him, even for a moment, lest he be reflected in your eyes.  Rest assured, he will not ever step free once he dwells there.

So, no Rose. Cool. But also very cool concept. Having a demon in your eyes doesn't sound pleasing. Was Grandma so rude because she got too used to interacting to being like this? I think thats far-fetched, but a possible theory

He perceives the passage of time differently than we do.  He’ll be content to sit in the circle I drew out until the sun grows cold.  For him, the conversation is ongoing, and you’ll need to see the notes on his page in Dark Names so you can continue from where I, and each member of our line, left off.  Failure to do so may confuse or irritate him.  In any case, you can come and go, and he’ll see no difference in it.  He does not speak, which led me to use the shorthand for gestures you’ll find on the final page of his entry.  Please maintain those notes consistently, for those who come after you.

So, wait, he cant speak, so you use gestures, but you also cant look at him? I'm thinking that I'm missing something.

If you intend to deal with him, use one of the templates outlined in Dark Contracts, which I left to the right of the desk.  Page 15, 17, 29 and 77 are good places to look, if you find yourself in a hurry.  Do not improvise, for words must be chosen with utmost care.  The final third of the book has recommended terminology with examples, which you can insert into the templates as needed.  Do not trust Mr. Beasley or his firm for assistance.  They are, quite naturally, unreliable on this front.

Failing all else, keep your eyes on the painted circle, stay silent, and keep to the contracts found in my books.  You can consult my texts if you have any further questions.  I regret that I am unable to assist you here,

R.D.T.

“What is it?” Rose asked.  “The look on your face scares me.”

The look on my face?  I touched my face.

“You look like someone just died.”

“No,” I said.  “No.”

I moved to put the letter down on the desk, and it slid off.  I picked it up again, tried to put it on the desk, and the corner of the paper caught, bouncing it out of my hand and back onto the floor.

On the third attempt, I turned it over, examining it under the light.  Sky blue ink on white, barely visible, outlining a script that was reminiscent of the rune that Laird had drawn in sugar.

Holding it firmly in both hands, I set it down on the table, pressing it down in place.  It stayed.

A moment later, as I turned to make sure I’d put the book away properly, I generated a brush of air that sent the letter to the floor again.

Once disturbed, apparently, it was insistent on staying disturbed.

Experimentally, I tore it, a little tear to cross the sky blue symbols.  When I put it down this time, it stayed down.

“You’re scaring me, Blake.”

“She left something behind,” I said.

“Something?”

“Something Other.  Fitting to her particular specialty.  It’s upstairs.”

“No.”  Seeing Rose, I had a sense of how I probably looked.

“I need to check,” I said.

There was no argument this time.  Chances were good she was too stunned to say anything.

The black-painted key in hand, I made my way up the ladder, out the door to the top floor, and then up the staircase to the tower room.

I checked everything, then pulled off my sweatshirt, in case the tab on the zipper counted as reflective.  I swept my hands over my entire body to double-check.

The key clicked in the lock.  I let the door swing open.  When I moved my eyes, I did so with care, keeping to the periphery of the room, then inching closer.

The round window jutted out to my right, with a cushioned bench beneath for sitting on.  Once upon a time, it would have been a good spot for reading.  Now, it was shuttered and locked, with old books stacked on the bench like bricks.  A table sat to my left, stacked with papers that were securely weighed down.

The floor… I saw the circle, painted in white.  ‘Circle’ was perhaps an understatement, given the concentric circles and lines that sprawled across the floor, burdened with embellishment, scripts and geometric shapes, as well as other smaller circles hosting more of the same.

It didn’t take long for my eyes to see it.

A pair of shears, no doubt fallen from the table, impaled a line in the innermost circle of the diagram on the floor.

Nothing stood within.

You could have asked me to theorize, but I would NOT have guessed that the empty thing by the end was to be a summoning circle. Are the shears the problem? Interrupting the symbol? Doesnt it count as reflective? Do we have a demon locked in a useless household object, that would be pretty hilarious. 

I’m thankful that this wasn’t build up then, it really was a last time sort of deal. I’m starting to doubt that the meeting will be had in this Arc, unless this is one of the long ones. Maybe two, three more chapters? I just don’t expect it to be resolved in a single chapter and it would be good to end the Arc with it. I still have yet to discover if this story has Interludes, since I don’t know much about Twig in no way whatsoever and how it tells its story. Maybe the Interlude will be happening in the meeting? Getting one more of those famous “alien” perspectives Wildbow is so good at doing, from an Other, seeing everything from its eyes would be really good to have this early on, for perspective. Seeing how they think. But maybe confusing if overdone. Someone who is FRIENDS with Others or who already knows how they work might be best. Maybe the girl with the Other friend with the big smile. My speculation is that the people in the meeting will all gang up on Blake and it’ll be overwhelming, but one of two characters will show no interest in it, or feign it very well. Someone will start a conflict that will overwhelm the rest of the conversation and just unbalance everything, for our character’s luck. 

NEXT TIME: I intended to post this last week, but sleep schedules, finishing up some university day-job before christmas plus getting further on an  Internship selection process I REALLY didn’t expect to get further on got in the way. Then came festivities and you know the rest. I’ll be going on a trip tomorrow, but I felt that I HAD to squeeze this in somewhere. I’ll be back around the 8th, since the process will be back by then. I have NO IDEA what they’ll have me do and how I’ll manage my time then. But I’ll leave this note here for you and for myself to remind all of you: When I figure out whatever battery of tasks these maniacs will have me do in the middle of my vacation, I will schedule my next liveblog. I’ll be doing as always and bringing with me the next chapter (Bonds 1.7) with me on my cellphone, doing notes as I read it, which will be posted as soon as I either finish it or have internet (I’ll be in the middle of the woods, if everything goes right, from the 29th to the 5th). I hope you all had a VERY demon-free Christmas or any other religious or comercial festivities you partake in, and that you have the gayest new year. See you all in 2018!!!

[be-awake]

A&B

Looking back at everything, over the years I've known him and the years he has stolen my heart and soul. We used to talk, alot , and anyway we possibly could. We had this problem though of running away from one another when one of us would get too close to the other. We have been so destroyed by other humans who have claimed to love us ,and with that painful break we learned how to run away as fast as we could if anyone no matter who it was, once they got that close to us we ran fast and hard to get away. Also over the years, we got closer, became better friends, best friends. We listened to one another better, stood up for each other no matter what it was that they did wrong or good to someone we always stuck up for each other and we did it from more than 1,000 miles+ apart or just a few minutes drive down the street. We gave our friendship our all. We gave each other a love that not even us understood. However once that closeness came even between us we still ran, no matter how painful it was, we still ran. The silence over 2 1/2 years was hard. Life changed alot for the two of us in our separate lives.My mind would constantly wonder and think about him. The thought ran through my mind, down to my heart , then exploded into my soul. My love for this human, this wonderful man, my best friend was so intense I could feel his energy. It freaked me out because I could only feel him when we lived in the same state. However, to my knowledge he lived in many states across the U.S from Utah. Well turns out I was very wrong, and my soul was right. He was home. I can't remember who contacted whom first, or how we contacted one another, but it was like clock work. I felt his energy and it was not even a day, more like hours and we were talking like he had never left. Back to where we left off.. except he was committed.  Just my luck right?! Broke me so bad, but I stayed. I missed my friend. It was so nice to wander the city and take photos of whatever. Just being with him was all I honestly cared about. Hearing him talk, sing, watching him be a complete goofball was wonderful. For how empty I felt before that day from my divorce , was so dark and depressing. He lit up my life, my heart, my soul once again. It was so nice to be happy, to be light on my feet. It was the most unexplainable feeling I've ever had to just have my best friend back. Then I found out he was engaged to this girl. I swallowed my pride, I was happy for him that he was for once happy and going to settle down. That didn't last long. As we know, a few months passed by and we started talking again and this time we got pretty damn close, and not just friends either. We fell for each other hard.  Again.  But neither one of us was willing to run. After a few amazing months, I'm unclear of what all happened or why we stopped talking. We didn't run, we just faded. 

      It was strange.

                                   We had very little contact from October 2017 to  September of last year, 2019, Then either the day before or after or even on Thanksgiving he had me come over. He was drunk as he tended to be from time to time. He and I talked, we cuddled and one thing led to another. 

                    ....Breath...

 I remember waking up next to him; Best warm fuzziest ever. The ones he makes me feel are out of this world, no way to explain them because you can't. It's just love honestly.  Our bodies entangled together. His skin was like magic to me. I've never experienced bliss before until this moment. Sense then we have been inseparable, until well after my birthday in April this year things drastically changed. He was doing something more positive for himself to better his health. So from April 15,2020  today, May 23, 2020,  it has been hard for me and possibly him as well. I just don't know because he doesn't talk to me much anymore, even when I'm sitting next to him. We hardly talk, touch, look at each other, goof off, kiss, make love/have sex, hug, hold hands. Kisses on the forehead have stopped, texting slowed wayy the fuck down, open communication came to a halt; which was weird cuz he and I a few days before my birthday talked about how happy we were that we could come together sit down and talk about anything and everything no matter what it was about. He and I could talk about it, work through it and get through anything. Now... With all this change, he doesn't talk about anything hardly ever. He avoids me when I bring up things that bother me, doesn't answer any real serious question I ask or text him about. He hardly is exciting to have me come over when we couldn't wait for our weekends or our Tuesday nights for our time together. I feel like I bug him even when he says I don't bother him. His body language says so differently. So I'll stay from Friday afternoon to Monday afternoon then I  go home. When I would get to him the first thing always was a kiss and hug hello. Come Monday it was always a hug and kiss goodbye however we never wanted to let go, or have me go home. He used to tell me that I was home so I didn't need to go home. His home was my home and he wanted to keep it that way because he hated how he felt when I wasn't there with him. Now; I go over there and no hug, no kiss just a hi how are you? That's it. No excited ness in his voice. He now asks me when I think I'm going home. Or how long I'm staying this time.. we hardly ever shower together, craft together. However , we have had a few nights by the fire but with like 5 to 10 feet between us. The silence that I could hear past the fire crackling and making its own little firework show, was painful. I sat by myself hardly on my phone. While he was always checking his phone or playing a game as he sat farway but next to me while I stared and watched the fire. I thought my heart breaking deafening, I was wrong. To me he didn't notice, he didn't care. Because even if he couldn't hear it, anyone who is connected to any human like he and I are.  You would feel it, you could see it. Yet he said nothing nor did he ask. Once we went inside he was quick to go take a warm bath upstairs which I can't ever join him...ever.  I don't take baths at home cuz my tub is tiny and it doesn't stay warm for nothing. However he and I used to love taking baths together all the time. Shit I remember one time tell him no it was okay that's just he goes to take one and I'd wait for him. He looked at me with the most shocked face, grabbed my wrist to pull me closer to him. He grabbed my waist and threw me over his shoulder and took me into the bathroom, locked the door and told me I was going to take a cuddle bath with him because that's what we do. I laughed so hard just because of how he said it. Mind you this man, this human, I would move mountains for. He is the first person I have ever had in my life who accepted me 2000% and I accepted him 2000% flaws and all.  Anyhow back to where I was; We cuddle like maybe 10% of the time when we sleep. Before we always made sure that even if we couldn't cuddle some part of our body or skin was touching the whole night. Most nights he either had me pulled so close into his body with his arms wrapped around me, not letting go. Or I held him so close into me and my arms wrapped so tight around him. 

 It's rare that this happens anymore.

......breath.....

 I feel so broken; like it's my fault.  anytime I bring it up or ask about us and what is kinda eating at my brain.. he says we are good and that he loves me . So things have changed. I just think he lost the spark he used to get with me. What changed everything, was he decided to make a change for his health and stopped drinking and smoking. He has over a month sober from drinking and about 3 weeks of no smoking. I couldn't be more proud of him. He was so unsure if he could do it again. He has blown me away with how much he has been working out. We go on walks that aren't very talkative and silent. He is just less interested in us. In me. I feel like because if you were in my shoes..how would you feel with such a drastic change? However he still has his moments that last a few minutes to maybe a few hours and only for one day possibly two; if I'm lucky but never the whole time I'm there like it used to be, then back to what he is doing. He has these raspberry moments, like the raspberry you give people on their tummies to tickle them. Well I'm a very ticklish person, he does this and doesn't stop. I can't stop laughing, I can't breath, due to my laughter, we are having a blast. I can't complain because I've missed this terribly. Then he stops, then it goes silent again in the room around js.. Also mind you we haven't really kissed or made love in over a month. He says it's his antidepressants which it very much could be and he has told me that. However with everything else I feel like I'm not enough. That I'm not what he wants anymore. Oh side note I gave him a ring that means alot to me because it is a ring that I designed for him years ago when we first got together. I was planning on breaking the rules . Before he moved years ago I was going to ask him to marry me. Well, when he found the box in my room, he opened it and looked at it. Asking me who it was and if it was my ex husband. I told him it was what I had made for you. He was shocked, and put it on. We exchanged small vows, and it was just us, because that all we needed was us. No paperwork because you don't need a piece of paper to tell you how much you love someone. 

He used to wear his ring  all the time, every day 24/7, he never claimed that the ring bugged him either. Now, he hardly wears it . Complains that it bugs him because he normally doesn't wear any jewelry except his Celtic cross; which we both have one. I fell in love with it, and copied him. If I remember correctly he gave me mine after we were together for 4 or 6  months but I am not forsure on that.So I feel awful that I did this a few weeks ago...

 I took his ring one day to see if he would notice at all. He didn't. I was fucking broken. One weekend I was over there after having his ring all week, and him unaware that I took it. He showered, then got dressed and asked if I had seen his ring? I played dumb and told him no. He started to panic a little, continuing looking for it, as he was looking he told me how he took it off this morning to do yoga because he got all sweaty and he didn't want to loose it; mind you I wasn't there this morning when he did yoga, I got there in the late afternoon. So him telling me this, I thought well fuck maybe he may really want to wear it this time, I was excited about this thought.  I told him I'd look in his closet because maybe it was on his dresser in there. Also side note his ring was in my pocket this whole time as he is sitting there looking for his ring and lying to me.  So I walk into his closet, pretend to find it. He walked over so quickly. Hugged me kissed my forehead and said he loved me and didn't know what he would have done if he lost that ring because it means everything to him. At this point I feel like it doesn't mean anything to him. He didn't worry about it till after I was there a couple of hours and also didn't notice it wasn't there for a whole week.  Next time I took it,it was on his bookshelf, it had been for a few days. I was struggling so I wore it to feel him.. his love, his energy. I forgot I was wearing it and went home with it on. Few days passed, I was getting ready to head over to his house and I told him how I had his ring, and also why I had it. Again his ring was missing, The ring he loved so much and felt empty when he didn't have it on. Well again, I had it he didn't know until I told him I had it because I forgot I wore it when I was depressed and couldn't get out of a very dark place.. Not once did he ask if I had seen it or anything.. sure tells me alot when he didn't worry about it for a week or a little bit longer than a week. The next day he and his mom went out thrift shopping. I chose not to go because of the current state my mind was in. While they were gone I decided to place his ring on his speaker, right by his side of his bed. When he returned home I was gardening with his dad outside. Once we both went back down to his room, he noticed his ring . He thanked me for giving it back. Then in the next ten minutes it wasn't on the speaker anymore, the whole weekend I looked to see if he was wearing it, he wasn't, and he still isn't. So where it disappeared to is beyond me. Also he doesn't send me funny, cute,sexy photos of himself at all anymore. We used to send them to each other all the time. Sadly I've stopped sorta because I get responses like "having fun?" Or no response at all... NVM I've written a lot and I have 1 follower. I just needed to get this out and off my chest. I honestly have no one to vent this to. He said I can always vent to him, and I've tried with this before but I guess it's all in my head because he won't ever really talk about it or answer anything anymore... It honestly ripped my heart out, tearing my soul to tiny bits. He doesn't see all this, that I'm going through or experiencing and it's like he doesn't care. I just need reassuring that this isn't all in my head and that he still loves me and wants to be with me. He also is avoiding me when I ask if I can come over or when I can see him next. This has been the first week like a full week that we haven't seen each other. He hardly texts or calls or responds to my texts and it kills me. It kills me to think that he is done. But treating someone like this and how it makes me feel is uncalled for, also unnecessary to do to someone who you love mind, heart and soul. It fucks a human up. Drives them insane. But what do I do if I am wrong? What if this is all in my head and things are only going this way because I'm projecting them? I honestly need someone to see this, a stranger, a human, alien, anybody. I need an answer to this issue that I'm experiencing. I need a human to talk to that isn't scared to talk to me like I feel like he is. I can't take this. I need to know if I am projecting and fucking shit up or if he really doesn't give a shit and doesn't love me but doesn't have the balls to tell me and end it.

I hate saying let alone think that.

Thank you for hearing me vent and what not. I just need someone, anyone. So I'm begging anyone, I wouldn't care if he stumbled upon this himself and read it. Maybe if I was lucky he would respond to it, to prove to me that I'm projecting and to knock this shit off because he truly loves me . If he does find this and read it I hope he proves to me that he loves me and cares because my brain is evil all the time and I've just needed an amazing hug and one life changing kiss like he used to give me daily. I don't want to lose him. I love him with everything I am. I just can't handle this pain. 

P.S. 

B- I love you with everything I am. I want this to work. I can't be silent. I hope this gets your attention finally because I can't keep ignoring this, whether it's just my evil brain projecting or if you're really done. I need to know please because it's breaking everything I am. I love you. Forever and a day. Always. Xoxo A