#been angry about this for several years now i have to break my silence

[true-bluesargent]

okay i'm talking my shit again. tons of people saying yeah season 2 was bad but they liked the casting for the crows ?!?! how can you say that with a straight face!!!! they're all at least 10 years older than their characters and that is so important in six of crows because their ages are so significant the story instantly loses half of it's impact if they aren't children THATS THE WHOLE POINT!!!! and then we move onto the other problems! freddy carter being an able-bodied actor playing a disabled character who is incredibly important representation for so many people is. not good when they could have hired a disabled actor it could have been a life-changing role for someone less established. and then danielle galligan is not fat!!! NINA IS FAT!!!! also such an important part of her character!!!!! and then making her wear bigger outfits in season 2 to try and disguise it is so gross. casting a light skinned actor for jesper was also very much not good. and obviously those are the big problems but even on like a pettier level they couldn't put the effort into some tiny details to make things more book accurate? they couldn't have given calahan skogman a long blonde wig? they couldn't have made jack wolfe's hair ginger? like those two details would have been so easy!!! but they didn't care because they don't respect the source material at all so yeah the casting sucked and i am not sad about the cancellation

[oliver-quick-ens-my-pulse]

Love and Marriage

Ominis Gaunt x f!Reader

Summary - Anon request for "Hi! Could you do some smut for ominis where him and reader are married (couple years after Hogwarts) and reader has a voice kink and ominis sometimes slips into parseltounge when he gets lost in the moment🫣 and drives reader crazy 😜"

Word Count - 1,460

Warnings -  18+ smut, characters aged up, rough sex

A/N - I wish there was a way to really right parseltongue but theres just not that I know of??

Ominis had opened up a lot since he had been with you and settled down away from the rest of the Gaunts. He had blossomed into a version of himself he wasn't sure was possible for the longest time. However, married life was still a lot of work. It wasn't without arguments and mistakes.

Although you had been together for several years, the idea of being husband and wife was new; with it came new disagreements and new sides to each other. You had noticed a few times in the throes of yelling back and forth, Ominis would slip into raving in parseltounge. At that point, you had to take a step back. Usually you would put some distance between the two of you to calm down and revisit things later, but for you it was because you couldn't focus at all when he did that.

It was so fluid for him that you were certain he didn't even notice he was doing it. It was mesmerizing for him to be speaking something so exclusive that you wouldn't ever know what it meant no matter how beautifully it rolled off of his tongue.

It gave you sensations that you should not be having in the midst of an argument. It gave him such an air of strength as he stood over you gesturing frantically speaking the language that was impossible not to sound sultry.

As you got into it about wanting to go out and see more things as a couple and Ominis was just completely content to spend the rest of his life sitting in his office full of books, you were left with sticky clenched thighs as he hit his breaking point.

He looked incredible for starters. Pieces of his hair had fallen from the slicked back coif on his head, a rosy tony crept from his cheeks to the tips of his ears. He had his shirt haphazardly buttoned and loose fitting slacks with little imagination as to what was - or wasn't - beneath them.

You had first barged in, miffed he had forgotten about some place you had wanted him to escort you to that day. You didn't raise your voice, but you were bitter and saying things that were pure spite.

He had spat the same back at you, neither of you was huge about raising your voices, but when he did that's when it would happen. It would be heated and you would have no idea what he was saying, but you know blushed in shame from the way the parseltongue made you feel.

Something about it just felt dirty and private, especially as you knew you were probably the only person to really hear it from him.

You snapped out of your thoughts as he placed his hands on your shoulders, confused from your silence.

"Y/N?" He said your name softly, running his thumb along your jaw.

"I'm sorry for speaking to you that way, it's just so different living a life as a duo instead of just the safety of solitude."

You looked up into his woeful gaze, "Ominis, I don't even know what you said."

He looked almost angry as the word "what" spluttered from his mouth.

"You - you were talking in parseltongue. You know that don't you? You always..." your voice faltered as his brows creased together.

He had no idea and now he wondered what awful things you must think of him. He always found it such a filthy trait that came from his family, so it must be disrespectful to you.

"This whole time? How long? I -" He turned around and took to pacing, pushing his hair back from his forehead as he rambled, "What must you think of me?"

"Ominis. I find it captivating. I know when we're upset about all these important things it isn't the time, but it - it makes my mind wander to other places."

You felt shy suddenly, knowing he was going to look at you differently and you didn't know if anything good would come from it or not. He stopped his movements, still in thought as he looked over at you.

He took slow strides towards you, tilting your chin up as he bent low to your ear, "Tell me what you're thinking then, saepʃ," he says what you believe to be your name as you had certainly heard it before. His other hand ghosts over bare skin at the low back of your blouse.

"It turns me on, Ominis, I'm just thinking about you using me and your English words escaping you and...and that's just what slips out." You bit your lip as you looked up at him nervously.

"Why don't you get on your knees so we can see what happens? You can be a good girl if I remember, right, Y/N?"

You nearly fell to the floor to obey him and it made him chuckle to for you to show your eagerness towards him, hearing the sound of your knees on the floor. He placed a hand on your head, ruffling your hair as a reward.

"Surely you remember what to do? You were always a good slave for my cock." Ominis had forgotten how much his words did for you, but he had a renewed curiosity wondering how far you would go with something new like parseltongue in play.

You whimpered and lulled your head against his thigh as you reached to tug his trousers to the floor. You always forgot how impressive he was, between his creamy pale thighs the pink tip of his cock stood out at you.

You wanted to take your time to see how worked up he could get, so you started out placing kisses up his thighs. You ran your tongue across his balls suckling gently and he practically hissed at you, more of that beautiful language falling from his lips.

You could feel the slick pooling between your thighs, no doubt making a mess against the floor as you teased your mouth over his full length, your spittle mixing with his pre-cum.

Suddenly, he yanked you up hard by your hair and you yelped. He pinned you to the wall and crushed his lips to yours. It was sloppy, wet, and full of harsh biting. You clutched onto him to hold yourself up, feeling hard and tense muscles beneath his shirt.

He pulled away, leaving drool dripping down your chin as he caught his breath. He didn't extend the same courtesy to you as he wrapped his fingers around your throat. His eyes met yours in a gruff tone, full of arousal.

"Good girls don't tease, my love, but you've always been naughty for me haven't you?"

You felt dizzy from the state of need he had you in as he hauled you forward, bending you over his desk. A harsh slap across your backside made you jump, his fingers roughly pressing against your sodden pants. He circled your clit through the thin material before yanking them down your legs, bloomers and all.

"Now let's see what happens when I have no control, that's what you wanted, right? To hear the filth from my lips?"

He circled your dripping lips with the tip of his cock, making you beg before he slams into you, tugging hard on your hair.

More parseltongue fell from his mouth mingled in with the command to arch your back more. His pace was slow and hard, but no the least bit controlled. He was savoring your whines as your walls contracted around him.

He had never fucked you like this, so raw and aggressive. It had been so long you savored every second of him inside of you, hitting all the right spots that had been neglected for so long.

His pace quickened as he reached a hand forward to rub circles just right on your clit. His moans were strangled as he felt himself so close, but he was determined to get you to finish with him. He brought his lips just below your ear, whispering to you the way he knew you'd been craving and it wasn't long until hot waves of pleasuring came crashing down on you.

He released you to lay face down on the desk while he desperately gripped your hips, telling you he was about to cum. You felt terribly empty as he pulled out to shoot hot ropes all over your back and reddened ass.

You whimpered and whined about how he hadn't left it inside and in response he ran his fingers through it just to stuff them in your mouth. He spoke first in English, repeating the sentiment in parseltongue.

"Next time you'll be good and I want have to punish you."

[ww2yaoi]

i would love to hear something about webgott brainrot :3

this evil beast… my first stab at webgott so I don't know how good it is but it's almost 60k and unfinished and everytime I open the doc it bites me and I go yowch! and I close the tab. it's basically just web and joe's summertime affair in austria and them fucking and swimming and occasionally almost killing each other. hopefully it sees the light of day someday

here's a snippet <3

David shakes his head. He can feel Joe’s gaze on him, but he refuses to return it. He thinks if he glances over and sees the look on Joe’s face, whether it be one of understanding or disgust, he might really break down.

“Why didn’t you become an officer, Web?” Joe asks. “You could’ve.”

“Because someone had to be the soldier on the fucking ground. Someone had to kill these goddamn Germans,” David says, his words slurring from the gin. “My parents resent me for joining up, and yet they wanted the Allies to win the war. Someone has to bleed and fight and die, but no, not their son.”

He swallows hard, rage bubbling up in his throat, forming a peach pit in his esophagus. “Fucking hypocrites. Maybe if I had gotten mowed down by a machine gun in Normandy they would have some fucking perspective.”

“You shouldn’t say that,” Joe says, sounding hurt by the idea. “Don’t be stupid, Web.”

“Yeah, well, I did say it.”

Joe sighs. His shoulder knocks against David’s, and it’s almost comforting. “Y’know, I always assumed you became an enlisted man so you’d have more interesting things to write about.”

David smiles to himself. “Yeah, maybe a bit of that too.”

He raises the bottle to his mouth, tips it back, but finds he’s drained the last of the gin. It triggers his anger again, which rips through him like a jolt of electricity.

“Jesus Christ, what the fuck am I still doing here?” David says, and his voice echoes across the lake.

He throws the empty bottle in the vague direction of the shoreline. It shatters against a rock, breaking into a thousand pieces. Joe flinches beside him at the sound. David hangs his head in his hands, tugs at his hair.

“If they’re going to send us to the Pacific, they might as well do it now. If I’m going to get blown to bits over Tokyo, I’d like to get it over with.”

“I don’t think that’s going to happen,” Joe says. “I think we’re here for the long haul.”

“Yeah, left to fucking rot.”

Joe makes an unimpressed sound at the back of his throat. “Come on, it’s not so bad. We’ve got hot showers, warm beds, decent food. It sure beats combat.”

“Well, it’s a gilded cage, Joe,” David says. “I want out.”

“I know, Web, I know.”

They fall into silence for several minutes. Eventually, Joe reaches over and rubs David’s back, working his hand over his hunched shoulder blades, over the tired notches in his spine. It tempers some of David’s outrage, settles his muscles that have been tensed since this morning.

“Do you have a cigarette?” David asks after a moment.

“Yeah.”

Joe reaches into his breast pocket and removes a pack of Lucky Strikes. He shakes out two cigarettes, puts them both in his mouth, lights them, then hands one to David.

“Thanks.”

David raises it to his lips but finds that his fingers are trembling.

Joe notices. “Your hands are shaking, Web.”

David puffs on his cigarette and smoke pools in his lungs. The hit of nicotine only serves to make him feel nauseous.

“I’m angry,” he says, cigarette hanging limply in his mouth.

Joe reaches over and takes David’s clammy hands in his. Joe’s are dry and cool in comparison, hard calluses built into his fingertips from wielding a rifle for so many years. Joe holds onto David’s fingers as they quiver in his palms, then runs his knobby thumbs gently over David’s knuckles.

Steady hands, David thinks. He loves Joe’s steady hands, even if they’re hands that have maimed and killed, heart lines baptized with blood that can never be washed away. Not completely. David has fallen apart so willingly beneath these same hands, let them soothe him and embrace him and pull him asunder. He would take them inside of himself if he could, let Joe pick through his body as if he were one big open wound. David wishes he were brave enough to ask him to do it, but he’s so often afraid, so he closes his chest and padlocks his rib cage and waits for Joe to find the keys to come in.

“Come on, let’s go back up,” Joe says after a while, letting go of David’s hands. He stubs out his cigarette and reaches for the flashlight, clicking it on. “I don’t know how you made it down here in the dark without breaking an ankle.”

“I know the path,” David insists, throwing his cigarette into the lake as Joe helps him to his feet.

thanks for the ask!

[cyborgbrainrot]

First Snow: A Blackwatch!Genji x Reader SFW Story

This wasn't a request, just something I came up with on my own to start things off. :) --- You stand from afar outside of the base, watching him. Clouds covered the sky, and snow fell from above; lightly at first, then gradually more intense. It was the first snowfall of the year, and if it kept up, it might stick. For Genji, this was his first time experiencing snow in this body. He was wearing nothing but a black hoodie over his cybernetics. This wasn't an issue for him, he normally didn't wear any clothing at all. He didn't perceive heat and cold in the same way anymore. He stretched both of his arms out and flexed his hands gingerly. In his left still flesh arm; he felt what he expected. Cold particles brushing against it and turning to water on impact, a growing feeling of numbness the longer he stood there. In his right cybernetic arm however, he only felt a muted sensation. The sensors in his arm were telling his brain that something was making contact with it, but he didn't have the same sensations of wet and numbness that his left did. He kneels down and sticks his whole right hand into the layer of snow forming at the ground and keeps it there. It is only after he doesn't pull it back out again after several minutes that you finally decide to approach Genji. "How long are you going to do that for?" you ask. He finally gets up and turns to face you. He isn't surprised by your question, he knew you were watching him the entire time. "Until I feel what I should be feeling." came the matter of fact reply. "Does it help?" you ask as he flexes his cybernetic hand several more times. He scoffs, and then suddenly grabs both of your hands and takes them into his own. You flinch and recoil from the sensation, the feeling of cold is overwhelming. Just how long had he been out here for before you found him?

He rolls his eyes, as if you had just asked a question with an obvious answer. "No, it doesn't. If I was normal, I would react as you did. But I don't feel things the same way you do anymore. I don't even feel your hands on mine the same way." You look down, unsure of what to say. Genji continues. "But that's the point isn't it? I'm not meant to feel. I was rebuilt to be a weapon. The less I feel, the easier it is to do my job." "Don't... don't talk about yourself like that, please..." you beg. It wasn't the first time he had spoken of himself like that. Every time he did, you hated it. Hated how he dehumanized himself like that. "It's the truth, and every day proves that more and more." he responds coldly. He turns and begins walking away. You stand there for a moment, then chase after him and wrap your arms around him, placing your head against the back of his faceplate. The cold metal sends chills down your spine, but you hold firm. "What're you doing?!" he demanded, but didn't move to break away. You move your right arm up and begin to stroke his hair. "Can you feel that?" you ask. "... Mostly." "And how does it make you feel?" "Embarrassed." You move your left hand over his chest, attempting to feel his heartbeat. You find it. A steady rhythm that grows faster the longer you keep your hand there. "Weapons don't have hearts, Genji. They don't have emotions. You do. That's how I know you're still human inside. That's how you know you're still human." There's a silence between you two. You move your right hand back down and place it over your left, so that both hands are now over his heart area. After a while, Genji raises his left human hand puts it on top of yours. "I feel lost." he begins; "On missions, it's easy, my anger focuses me on the task at hand. But afterwards, in the quiet, I feel like I lose a part of myself every time. Like there's nothing else." You say nothing.

He turns to face you. For the first time that day, you get a good look at his eyes. Normally Genji looked angry all the time. The red tends to do that. But when you're this close, you see something more. Pain. "Some days you're the only thing that reminds me I'm still human." he finishes. "I'll be there to remind you every day if you want me to. You're as human as I am; as anybody else here is. There's more to you than killing. You just have to find it again." That kind of just came out. You felt unsure whether that was what he needed to hear, but you notice the muscles in his face relax. "Thank you." he says quietly. You respond with a smile, but you're unable to hold it for long. The biting wind causes your teeth to start chattering. You look away, and then turn back when you hear a slight chuckle. "Did you just laugh at me?" you ask playfully. "Perhaps." he responds in kind. Your face drops into a slight pout.

"Come, let's get back inside, you must be freezing." he continues. He offers you his human arm, which you take, and he gently leads you back towards warmth. There will be other bad days, you're sure of that. But for today, you feel like you legitimately made a difference to Genji. And he's grateful for it.

[kaycode1999]

Techno-Organic Reader x Earthspark Bumblebee

This was a request from @technoorganicmic

Important information:

As a techno organic, Y/N can be either human height or grow to the size of bot (tall enough her/his/their head comes to Bee’s Autobot insignia). She/he/they have a blaster arm and a shield arm. She/he/they were created when one of the military scientists working with the Autobots came into contact with a protoform.

15 years ago ( a few days before the end of the war)

Y/N and Bee sit side by side on the edge of one of the ledges near the top of Mt. St. Hillary just as the sun begins to set. “ Bee?” Y/N speaks up, breaking the comfortable silence that had settled over the two. Bee makes a hum of acknowledgment turning his head to face her/him/them, “ I’m worried” Y/N says. “ About what?” Bee questions, “ GHOST” Y/N explains. “ Why? Did something happen?” Bee asks, “ Not exactly. But I’ve noticed they’ve been getting more and more secretive lately. Like there’s something they don’t want us seeing” Y/N says “ I don’t have any proof but I can’t shake this feeling that they’re up to something bad. Even Optimus doesn’t seem to trust them completely, I mean they aren’t allowed anywhere Tele-traan 1 and he is very careful about who he picks to work with them”.

“ Now that you mention it, I’ve noticed the same thing” Bee agrees. “ And now that Megatron has joined us- the war is nearly over. Something tells me is won’t be in my favor to be a techno organic that isn’t under their thumb” Y/N says, Bee gets a sad look on his face before taking Y/N’s hand. “ Are you saying you’re thinking of leaving?” Bee asks, “ It’s either that or I might end up like the Decepticons they plan to lock up. I’ll stay until the war is over…. But the second it ends I have to disappear. And you should think about doing the same” Y/N says. A look of pure heart break flashes across Bee’s optics which causes a lump to form in Y/N’s throat, “ Bee” Y/N says giving his hand a squeeze “ We’ll see each other again. I promise”. Bee gives her/him/them a sad smile and nods, the two slowly get to their feet and Y/N throws her/his/their arms around his neck in a tight hug. After a few moments she/he/they slightly pull away just enough to place a kiss on Bee’s cheek. Y/N then steps away just slightly, chuckling at Bee’s shy expression. “ Come on, let’s go meet up with the others” Y/N says, and the two head back down to the Ark and the other Autobots.

Present Day

Y/N lays across the couch in her/his/their apartment reading a book when the weirdest thing happens. Her/his/their eyes start glowing as a message from some middle aged brown haired man with strange eyebrows and two cybertronian arms starts to play.

“ My Terran troublemakers” he starts (and Y/N notices to two young kids behind him who look terrified as they are surrounded by several spider bots) “ as you can see, I have taken your human siblings. All five of you will meet me at the Witwiki race track at 5 o’clock this afternoon, and I wouldn’t try to get help from anyone or- Well, I think you can imagine what happens to poor Mo and Robby if you don’t follow my instructions”

The man gives an evil smirk before the message ends and everything goes back to normal. Y/N gasps and sits up on the couch with eyes widening in surprise. She/her/his mind starts racing for several moments before one thought comes through stronger than the rest.

“ those kids. I have to help those kids”

Y/N quickly grabs her/his/their phone looking up the location and rushing out to her/his/their car taking off for the race track.

5 o’clock

The Terrans walk through the entrance into the Witwiki race track where the evil scientist man and his spider bots have Mo and Robby. “ Right on time, just as I suspected” the man calls as the Terrans walk closer before being surrounded by the spider bots. The red drone Terran tightens her grip on her swords with an angry expression. “ we did what you said Mandroid, we’re here and we didn’t tell anyone. Now let Mo and Robby go” she says, “ Yes…. That was what I said, wasn’t it?” The man says says smiling darkly before snapping his fingers and the spiders bot’s suddenly shoot out some blue cords from their “ mouths” attaching to all of the Terrans. The cords instantly have a sparking electric current start through them shocking the Terrans who cry out in surprise and pain before falling to the ground, “ but you see…. Now that I have you. I don’t really have any more use for these two do I?” He says. Two Spider bots walk up to Mo and Robby holding their sharp claw like arms over their head readying to slice, a look of horror washes over the Terrans face as they realize what is about to happen.

The spiders bring down their arms, and just in time Y/N blasts them before stepping out from her/his/their hiding place catching everyone’s attention. “ Ok… I don’t know who you are” Y/N says taking several steps forward while keeping her/his/their blaster aimed at “ Mandroid” “ but let these kids go now!”, “ and who might you be?” He asks asks narrowing his eyes at Y/N as she/he/they step between him and the children. “ Oh, see it’s interesting. I’m-“ Y/N starts before blasting mandroid in the arm knocking him to the ground. She/he/they then throw her/his/their shield slicing the cords connected to the Terrans before they catch it when it comes back to her/him/them, the Terrans quickly get to their feet and rush to Y/N’s side just as mandroid gets up.

“ Get your siblings to safety!” Y/N orders, Y/N rushes Mandroid as the white motorcycle Terran and the red drone Terran grab Robby and Mo taking them several feet away out of danger while the three other Terrans take on the Spider bots. Y/N and Mandroid exchange a few blows before Mandroid pins Y/N down, “ is that really the best you can do?” He snarks. Y/N smirks before growing to her/his/their full height towering over the (mostly still human), “ What do you think?” Y/N asks before punching him sending him scattering several yards away. He slowly gets back up with a rather surprised look on his face. “ What are you?” He asks, “ Wouldn’t you like to know” Y/N snarks before blasting him back into the woods and the remaining spider bots run after him.

With Mandroid gone, Y/N turns to the Terrans and two human kids walking up to them. The kids all look at Y/N in awe as she/he/they brush her/him/ them self off, “ Are you all ok?” Y/N asks in concern. The Terrans all quickly crowd around Y/N as a flurry of questions come out, “ Who are you? How did you do that? What are you? How did you know where we were?”. “ whoa whoa whoa” Y/N says “ I’ll answer all of your questions, but first let’s get you kids somewhere safe”.

Y/N follows the kids to the Malto’s farm in her/his/their car, and the kids all run to hug their parents who are waiting in front of the house as Y/N parks the car and starts walking their way. The two parents give Y/N a kind of questioning look making her/him/them stop just a few steps in front of them and give them a shy smile and wave, “ Hi” Y/N says “ I’m”. Just then movement from the barn catches her/his/their eye as a familiar yellow and black bot steps out. “ Bee?” Y/N says in disbelief, “ Y/N?” Bumblebee says in surprise. “ Oh my God” Y/N says growing to her/his/their full height and running toward him nearly tackling him in a hug which he quickly reciprocates. After a moments Y/N pulls away smiling at him, “ I-I can’t believe it, it’s been so long” Y/N says. “ too long.” Bee agrees with a shy smile, and Y/N hugs him again. “ It’s so good to see you.” she/he/they says quietly.

“ Wait, Bee- So you know this, um” the mom starts failing to find a word for what Y/N is, and the two separate turning toward the others. “ Techno-organic” Y/N says. “ I do” Bee says with a smile “ everyone, this is Y/N. Y/N, these are the Malto’s”, he then introduces each member of the family. “ its nice to meet all of you.” Y/N says smiling at the kind family, “ What did you mean by Techno- organic?” Twitch asks. “ Well, basically I’m part Cybertronian and part Organic” Y/N explains, “ That sounds like what we are!” Hashtag says excitedly “ Does that mean you’re like- Our sibling?”. Y/N chuckles at the Terran’s enthusiasm, “ Not exactly” she/he/they says “ more like…. Uh, Cousins? That’s probably how I was able to receive the message from that Mandroid. He must have broadcast it on a frequency only beings like us would be able to receive. Too bad for him though, he didn’t know about me.”. A flurry of more questions come out from the Maltos and Bee puts an arm around Y/N directing her/him/them toward the barn, “ Come on guys, Y/N can explain everything in the dugout” he says and the whole family follows after them.

[edenfenixblogs]

Love you all (personal)

Leaving my phone in another room for awhile. I'm not ignoring any of you, and I have seen and will respond to all your EXTREMELY KIND messages, even if it takes awhile.

I was attempting to take a break from all this over the course of the week, because I felt myself growing weary and needed a recharge. Then my ceiling collapsed in heavy rain and I had to turn off my "Work Hours Focus" setting on my phone. It was supposed to silence all notifications and alerts from non-work and non-family phone numbers and block all non-work apps.

LOL...not really possible to have that setting on when coordinating with a bunch HVAC/Roofer dudes I've never met before.

But still. Jewish law commands us to find joy somewhere even when we're miserable. And while I know that is a sentiment that does not work for a lot of people, it has always been helpful to me.

So, despite all this, I am grateful for the shift in my plans this week for several reasons.

I'm grateful we were able to band together to help @rabid-catboy with an actual urgent issue. It feels very good to do something that you know helps someone. If my phone was in work mode I never would have seen this message in time to do anything about it. I had a similar experience in high school and I still think about it often. I get upset at how much was being asked of me and how much I was expected to know so that I could educate my peers and educators to do better. I didn't have the words to describe why something was so upsetting to me and why I know that it was wrong. Years later, I found the words and was so angry that I was expected to have them even when I was a child. It's an unfair burden, and I'll always be grateful that, even though I didn't find the words in time, I could help someone else find their words.

I am glad to have seen how active allies have been over the past week. I'm pretty emotionally drained by this all the time, so I may not say it as clearly or as often as I should, butt you give me hope. I am not used to relying on other or sharing my grief. It's actually a big problem. I don't tell people when I'm upset, because I'm afraid to inconvenience people or seem dramatic. that's part of the reason I struggled through undiagnosed PTSD for 13 years before reaching out for help. With the help of my BFF and my therapist, I chose to start being more open about my emotions with people. It's been a mixed bag. The people I knew would be here for me have continued to be here for me, thank goodness! But all (except 1) of the people I THOUGHT I could trust have simply stopped interacting with me at all. And I'm a lot less pushy/aggressive/vocal about all his suff IRL than I am when I have time to compose my thoughts and answer questions on here. It's been cataclysmic and devastating. To see so many people I've never met IRL not only lend emotional support to me personally but also provide emotional and temporal labor into fighting antisemitism and supporting Jews more broadly has gone a long way to restoring the faith in humanity that this conflict is trying to erode within me. I know I'm not he only Jew who feels this way right now. Please never underestimate the impact you have just by visibly existing in this space with us.

It's been nice being able to channel my anxiety about my ceiling into something productive.

Reminder: I love you all. Sorry for delayed replies. I'll be back. <3

[boldlyspeedydreamerreturns]

Can I request a one shot about Fizzaroli meeting Loona for the first time?

(Set post Mammon episode so he and Blitzo are friends again)

Yeah, I can do that. 😁

A few weeks after the events of episode 7...

Fizz was relaxing in the kitchen at Asmodeus' palace, waiting for the coffee maker to finish. Just as the machine dinged, his phone also rang. He was surprised to see it was Blitz calling. He knew his old friend didn't like getting up early, especially on the weekends. He answered the call as he poured his coffee.

"Hey, fucker, what's up?"

"So that's how you two talk, huh?"

Fizz paused. The voice on the other end of the phone sounded like a young woman, not Blitz.

"What? Who the hell are you? Oh fuck, you're some stalker fan that stole Blitz's phone, aren't you. Look bitch, I'm retired, so you can shove off."

He heard an exasperated sigh.

"I'm not a fan, dip shit, I'm Blitz's... daughter... technically."

"What? Daughter? Since when does Blitz have a daughter?"

"Since about five years ago when he adopted me but that's not why I'm calling."

Fizz was confused. Blitz hadn't mentioned a daughter in the few times they'd seen each other since trying to be friends again. The idea of his old friend being a parent was odd to him.

"So then...why are you calling me?"

"Can we meet in person? This feels weird over the phone."

Fizz was even more confused. Why would she want to meet in person? What could she want to talk about with him?

"Uhh, yeah, sure. Where should we..."

"I'm already close by. I'll be at your place soon. Tell them to expect a hellhound asking for you."

"Oh, okay then..."

The phone hung up. Fizz had no idea what was happening. He quickly ran to get dressed and rushed downstairs just in time to see Blitz's van pull up. A hellhound girl stepped out and walked towards the doors. She had a look of annoyance on her face. Fizz greeted her as she walked in.

"Hey there, you must be... Blitz's kid. I don't think you said your name before."

"I didn't. It's Loona. Let's get into this, okay."

"Yeah, you're definitely Blitz's. Let's go in here, it'll be more private."

Fizz lead Loona into what looked to be a parlor area. They sat down on a couch. Before Fizz could say anything, Loona spoke up.

"You're not gonna fuck with Blitz right?"

"What?"

"I know you hated him for a long time. Now you're supposedly trying to be close again. You're not fucking with him, are you?"

Fizz was stunned by the question. He hadn't expected her to be so forward.

"I...no. I'm not screwing with him. Look, I get it. I don't... completely forgive Blitz for what happened. But... I'm trying to move on."

"You better be telling me the truth, clown boy. Blitz has been through enough. He doesn't need some fake asshole coming back into his life just to break him down some more."

"I'm not going to hurt him!"

Loona looked surprised by Fizz raising his voice. The two sat in silence for a long minute.

"Look, Loona. I get it. It's sweet that you're so protective of your dad. But I promise you, I don't have any intentions to hurt Blitz. Honestly, even when I was angry with him, in the back of my mind, I still missed him like crazy. We were so close once."

Loona watched as a few tears pricked the corners of Fizz's eyes. She smiled.

"Good, then I don't have anything to worry about. Also, if you tell anyone I was here, I'll come back and chop your dick off."

Fizz laughed. The two chatted a little while longer, with Fizz telling Loona several stories of Blitz from their childhood. After about an hour, Loona stood up.

"I should probably get the van home before Blitz wakes up and sees it missing. Good talking to ya."

"You too, Loona. Say hi to your dad for me."

"I won't."

The two shared a laugh, then Loona left. It was an interesting interaction, but it made Fizz happy. He was glad to know that Blitz had managed to find even a little bit of happiness in his life.

[pebblewritesj]

Pretty Hippie

George met a girl once.

The last they saw each other, they had a one night stand and spent the whole week together, until one day she had to leave. Years later, she finally gets to him again. Though things have changed, their hearts are still in the same place.

An excerpt from my upcoming story, 'Norwegian Wood', where a roadie, Courtney Lindsay, meets The Beatles while working for The Rolling Stones on tour. She and George Harrison hit it off, quickly finding themselves closer than most.

——

"You're back.”

George stared in awe at the woman who stood before him at the front door, watching with wide eyes was she smiled and nodded, "I am." she confirmed.

She wore a pretty long sundress, one he hadn't seen before, the shoes she was wearing made her taller but he couldn't see them due to the length of the dress. She looked the same as when they last saw each other, there was only little things different about her. New freckles on her face that hadn't been there before, maybe she'd been spending some time out in the sun. God knew what she was doing these days.

He stared for a moment longer before finally lunging towards her, pulling her into a tight embrace, "You're really back, I thought I'd never see you again." he said, his voice horse.

Courtney laughed, returning the gesture as he swayed their bodies left and right, finally pulling back and inviting her in, moving to the side, "Come in." he nodded.

She smiled and walked inside, he closed the door and followed her to the living room, "What have you been doing?" he asked, sitting down on the couch next to her as she looked around the new environment. He stared at her from behind, looking over the open back of her dress, she'd cut her hair.

"Aren't you gonna ask how I found you?" She asked, he laughed and nodded, "I guess that would be the better question."

She laughed, "The papers tell a lot these days." she said, George nodding, "I know, it's scary."

A second of silence passed before George continued, "Do you want anything? I could get you a cuppa, I--"

She interrupted him, shaking her head, "No, I'm fine."

He chuckled, laying back in his seat and taking a moment to process things. It was really her. It must've been three years, maybe longer, but he still remembered everything like it was yesterday.

"It's good you came today, I leave on tour in a few days." He said, his voice cracking several times as he spoke. Courtney's eyebrows furrowed, "Are you ill?" she asked, George thinking before nodding in response.

"Laryngitis." He said, she nodded, "I've had that before, hurts like hell."

He nodded in agreement, "Hurts even worse when you have to make a whole album with it, and then the critics talk about how you sounded like some sort of smoking priest."

Courtney laughed, "I thought you did very well. I didn't think it was too preachy, did they?"

He shook his head, "It's all they talked about, they hate that sort of talk." he waved off with a shrug, "I don't care, really."

Courtney nodded, "They're all talk, they wouldn't be able to do any of the things you have." she said, George pursing his lips and looking away as he listened to her words, her voice was so nice to hear after so long.

"I feel like it's been so long since I last saw you." Courtney said, breaking the silence. George pursed his lips, "It has, far too long. Longer than you said it'd be." He said, the last few words having a certain bitterness to them.

"Things came up." She said, avoiding eye contact with him out of pure shame. He continued to watch her, trying to read her mind, figure out what was bothering her other than the obvious guilt tapping at her brain. He wondered how many events in each others life they must've missed, if he knew how differently he was living compared to the last time they saw each other.

"Things came up? Do you know how many times I tried to call? How many times I tried to find you?" He said, shaking his head with a face of disbelief, "It's hard to be angry, too. It's like now that you're here, everything's just like it was years go."

She chuckled dryly, "Well it's not, and yes, things came up." she paused, leaning closer to him, "It'll never be the same. You'd never even begin to guess the things I've been through since then.”

George looked over her expression, his eyes looking over every part of her. She felt vulnerable under his gaze, though she looked at him just the same as she sat back in her spot, "You're brave, coming here. You know Pattie doesn't like you." he told her, she shrugged, "I don't care."

"You know I hate when you two talk, as well." he said, leaning his head forward as she nodded, "I don't care if she calls me ugly, Geo, I care that it's her man that I'm after. That's not something I'm proud of. It is ugly."

She was taken aback when he began to chuckle, shaking his head, "She's been going off with some other man. She can't say anything about it anymore."

He watched as Courtney's eyes widened, "Who?" she asked, he shrugged, "I've been having suspicions of Clapton for about a year now."

He couldn't help but chuckle as her eyes got even wider, "Holy shit, you're joking." she said, watching as he shook his head, "Don't go spreading that around." he told her. She shook her head, facial expression still the same as she put her hand over her heart, "I would never, I know better, but you're being serious? You're not playing me?"

George shook his head again, "I don't play around like this, Court, you know that."

Courtney sat still before adjusting her position, "Christ, meanwhile you're going out with some old nobody. How's it feel?"

He laughed, shaking his head, "That's not how I feel, it feels more Dylan and Sedgwick to me." he said, watching as she laughed and shook her head, "I'm no Edie, I wish I looked like her."

He rolled his eyes at her words, "You're beautiful, always have been, since the first time I saw you I thought you were one of the most beautiful girls I'd ever seen." he praised. She pursed her lips, looking away as her face turned a deep shade of red.

"I never did like cliches, you know." She said, he nodded, holding eye contact as she finally looked back at him.

He nodded, "I know. That's what I love about you, you're so simple, but so complicated. I still haven't got you figured out." he said, inching closer to her as he adjusted his position next to her, "A simple way to put it; I can never figure out what the hell is wrong with you." he chuckled, she laughed along with him.

"You look so good." She said, looking over his faced after a bit of silence had passed, "The mustache really suits you. The hair, too." she observed, the man trying to overcome his common nerves as she looked over his features.

"You too, though you haven't changed at all. Only your hair got shorter." He observed, bravely moving his left hand behind her band to feel at the ends of her hair. She blushed, nodding, she could feel the cold of his wedding ring brush against her back, "I had to cut it. People don't like hippies anymore, they just call you dirty.”

He chuckled, "You were such a pretty hippie." he said, moving his hand back to his side as she snickered along with him.

"You are a pretty hippie." She laughed, putting emphasis on 'are'.

The two laughed together on the sofa, going silent for a bit, "Do you still like me?" Courtney asked, "Like, as a person."

He sat in silence, his lips parting as he looked down at the glistening wedding ring on his fingers. She followed his gaze, taking his hand to observe the band, "It's pretty, you know. I've never really looked at it before."

"I could take a guess as to why. Are you trying to make yourself feel better? It doesn't make me feel better." He said, she shook her head, "No, I'll never feel good about it. I just want to know if you still like me, Geo."

He shook his head, "Of course I still like you. I love you, remember?" he said, his words quiet but clear. The two sat back on the couch, slowly realizing amidst the silence just how close they were to one another.

That's when she kissed him.

George immediately kissed back, running his hands through her hair and pulling her closer. She did the same, he let out an involuntary groan as she tugged at his hair, she chuckled through the kiss. He took his right hand out of her hair, moving it to her back, before finally pulling away for air.

"Go lock the front door."

***

[ya-killin-me-smalls]

Sanmos divorce arc

one of many of the bad endings that I'd considered for Defective but ultimately didn't make the final cut

under the break :)

“Can I talk to you?” He’d tried to sound as assertive as he could, but his voice felt flat and sounded small. It was enough to stop Sanford on his way out the door, Deimos’s stomach twisting in knots. Silence stretched between them, Deimos staring at his partner’s back and wringing his hands anxiously.

Sanford sighed, his shoulders sagging. “Make it quick,” he said as he turned to face him, leaning against the doorway.

Deimos had to swallow the lump that formed in his throat now that he could see Sanford’s face. He looked tired. Irritated. Angry. He was mad at him and he wasn’t trying to hide it. “It’s uh- It’s about the uh- the other day-“ he fumbled, feeling like he was physically shrinking under Sanford’s gaze. “I just- I wish you’d stop avoiding me.“

“Yeah, and I wish I had a partner that planned on sticking around. We’ve been over this, Deimos. I want space.” Sanford turned to leave once again, Deimos rushing forwards to stop him with a hand on his shoulder.

“Would you quit being such an asshole and fucking listen to me?” he hissed. “You can go be mad at the desert in a minute, but there’s something I need to say to you.”

Sanford shoved his hand away. “Fucking what, Deimos? There isn’t a lot to talk about. You made yourself clear and so did I, so unless you’ve magically changed your mind, I don’t wanna hear it.”

That did it. Deimos’s eyes stung as he took a step back. “You know what? Forget it. I’m done.”

“Deimos-“

“No! You don’t get to do this to me!” He yelled, backing up further when Sanford reached out towards him. “You don’t get to up and fucking ditch me when I need you just because you’re mad! I had days to live and you left me there on my goddamn deathbed for hours because I was scared and you left me.” His voice broke, the tears starting to fall. “And fucking- Now I find out that I’ve got thirty years and knowing Doc’s estimates it’s a quarter of that and what do you do? You tell me you need space and disappear for several days. You go and beat the shit out of everything you come across because you can’t put your hands on me.”

“Deimos, it’s not like that and you know it-“

“Then what is it?!” He yelled it loud enough to make Sanford flinch, running his hands through his hair and gripping at the strands. “Do you even fucking care about me? Do you?! Because it feels like you’re just mad that you won’t have somewhere to stick your dick in a few years.”

“Shut your mouth,” Sanford snarled, fists clenching at his sides. “What makes you think- Do you really-“ He paused, taking a deep breath before continuing, his voice low and dangerous. “What exactly are you trying to say?”

He wanted to scream. Deimos’s breath hitched on a bit-back sob and he had to spend several seconds steadying his voice before speaking again. “I spent four goddamn months dying alone because I knew this is what would happen if I didn’t keep you out of the loop. I’m saying that I’m tired of you walking out on me when I need you. I’m saying that you don’t respect the fact that I don’t wanna live through eight million transplants. I’m saying that you don’t care about how this shit makes me feel. I’m saying that you don’t fucking love me and I’m tired of you pretending that you do.”

Sanford stared him down, silent, and Deimos had never felt more ashamed of himself, shivering with adrenaline and hiccupping pathetically. It took everything in him to not fall to his knees and cry like the baby that he was, unable to meet his partner’s gaze. He was mad. There was no way he wasn’t after that. The silence was killing him but he dreaded hearing his voice again.

It felt like forever and a half before footsteps started to slowly approach and instinct had Deimos shrinking back automatically.

“Deimos…” Sanford said, his voice quiet and gentle, a stark contrast to just a few minutes ago. He reached out, hesitating only a moment, and cupped Deimos’s cheek.

Deimos closed his eyes, trying his hardest to stop crying as Sanford’s thumb brushed over his skin, sinking into the warm hand. “I can’t keep- keep doing this with you-“ he managed, a second hand resting on the other side of his face. “I don’t want this- I swear I- I don’t. But I’d rather die alo- alone than do this.” He took a second to just breathe, gripping Sanford’s wrists before reluctantly pulling away from his touch. “I might not make it another year, San, and you’re either with me in this or you’re not, but I want a fucking answer. Do you love me?”

Sanford tilted his head back and sighed out through his nose, hands falling to his sides.

Hesitating.

“I guess not.”

And with that, Sanford left.

Deimos felt stupid for ever hoping otherwise.

[mingos]

oof. so… hello.

i know i’m not obligated to explain my absences, but i figured i should anyway because this is actually a long-standing issue i've been dealing with that, god fucking willing, doesn't happen againーbut that is what i told myself three weeks ago before it happened again. basically, because it can sometimes be so common, kinda just want to give a heads up if i ever start acting weird or distant because apparently i've upset some people i didn't mean to.

that stresses me out because, as i've mentioned before, i kind of have this tendency to shut down completely during stressful situations and not speak to anybody, which eventually turns into friends dropping me for a perceived lack of interest (not their fault, my fault). i'm actively trying to break that habit & be okay with vulnerability, so i want to be honest about where i've been and where i could potentially go in the future if this shit happens againーin a few weeks, in a few months, tomorrow... it all just depends, it's not a situation i can control. i'm not trying to ignore people. i just deal with a lot sometimes.

content warnings immediately below the cut but idk maybe just don’t read this if you’re in a bad headspace, or a really good headspace that you don't want ruined. no one should read this, actually. just jump to the last two paragraphs. this is just me explaining i'll hopefully feel okay enough to be back by the weekend.

-

cw: alcoholism; cw: domestic abuse; cw: gen. bad mental health

　i currently live in a dysfunctional situation with an alcoholic & addict family member as the last person in our family yet to distance themselves/cut them off. reason being is they relapse a lot. like, “an average of at least once every 2-4 months since i was 14” a lot. this is a long-standing problem. they’ve been through quite literally every treatment plan imaginable and nothing has stuck.

i do love this person; the majority of the time they're not relapsing, they’re kind & loving. when it’s good, it’s good. but when it’s bad jesus christ… i gotta level with you and say i've feared for my life a couple times.

they become angry & spiteful when drunk and, as of the last few years, physical. mostly when i try to confiscate things i find because i'm "stealing their property" and it’s therefore, to their drunk mind, justifiable. this is a mindset i’m still trying to unlearn because of course i don’t deserve it—taking a wine bottle away from an alcoholic for their own good isn’t justification for them almost suffocating you in an attempt to get it back, or breaking the lock on your bedroom door—but it’s hard to internalize that sometimes when your brain is beaten down, y’know?

when not being guilted into silence so i don’t “ruin their life more” or get threatened with being removed from the house by police, i’ve pretty much exhausted any sympathy or help i get from the rest of my family. half of them either have my # blocked or don’t answer under the weird assumption my family member is going to… use my phone to contact them? which is something that’s never happened before. the other half kind of just shrug because i’m choosing to say here and am an adult with the ability to leave whenever i want, just like they did.

　but i can’t leave—because, like i said, it’s just me now. no one else checks on this person, no one else lives with us, and i’ve already had to call 911 for them multiple times. living with them during a relapse is hell but so is whenever i have to leave the house because if something happens to them or their dog that suddenly becomes my fault. basically, whenever these episodes happen it’s just several days (or weeks) of nonstop stress. but there's nothing else i can really do. i just have to put up with it & ride it out.

-

　things have finally calmed down again; apologies were made, talks were had, we cleaned out their stash together... i finally have some breathing room. kind of. i still have no energy to do anything because i've just been in survival mode the last week (& also sick), so hopefully i can be back to writing by this weekend but i really don't know. i'm still paranoid something bad is going to happen so maybe i'm not out of that mindset just yetーi need to decompress a little before i can feel normal again.

thank you for your patience, and for those who have checked on me & especially those who were understanding it was kind of hard for me to have the energy to talk outside of my one or two comfort people. i miss you all very many and hope nothing more for you all to be loved, warm & safe. love you all very many.

[inmymagnetoera]

so, the other day I made this post saying that Charles is the type of person who asks "would you still love me if I was a worm?" And I got the idea for this little fic.

sorry for my bad english but i have pizza pasta and mandolin blood in my veins.

____

An important question.

"I'm home!" Erik yelled from the door of their small apartment in suburban New York. Work that day had drained him. He'd spent an entire day coaching three new interns and had reached the breaking point when one of them didn't seem to know how to use a goddamn copier. He took off his moccasins and then went towards the kitchen where Charles, with whom he had been living with for three years, was preparing something to eat for both of them.

"How was school today, Schatz? Were the kids quiet?" He asked putting his arm around his waist and resting his chin on his shoulder.

"Oh yeah, no big deal." He said continuing to look in front of him as if Erik wasn't right there. The older one straightened up and looked at his boyfriend with a frown on his face. Charles looked...strange. Usually when they both came home in the evening Charles couldn't wait to tell him about his whole day: what he had taught his students, what he and his colleagues talked about and what he planned to do in the following days but today was different. He kept quiet and watched the pasta turn rhythmically in the pot. They began to eat and Erik tried several times to start various conversations which, however, ended in a short time with dry and monosyllabic answers. They went to bed almost as soon as they finished dinner, both too tired to do anything else that night and, while Charles was in the bathroom, Erik thought it would be best to confront Charles about his strange behavior the next day, hoping to himself that his fiancé would be more lucid the next morning. Charles came out of the bathroom and joined Erik in the bed, turning his back to the German and saying a simple good night.

Erik fell asleep with that day date etched in his mind, afraid he had forgotten their anniversary and made Charles angry.

"Erik, Erik, Erik!" A hand gripped his arm and moved it slowly. He jumped up and looked around. The alarm clock struck a quarter past three in the morning. Why did Charles wake him up, was he sick?

"What's happening?" He asked in a voice thick with sleep and with heavy lids.

"Well, you know, I was just wondering something. Today I was with Moira, you know, my colleague, and something happened." Erik felt his heart stop and his eyes widen, every trace of sleep leaving his body. If Charles was going to tell him what he thought...

“I know from your look what you are thinking, no, i didn't cheat on you with Moira, she's like a sister to me. But back to the point, she told me she asked her boyfriend this question, you know, just for laughs and he had given her a negative answer and she was angry but I thought it was stupid, it was an absurd question in fact but I can't get it out of my head-"

"Charles, please tell me what you need to tell me. I'm not awake enough right now to understand all the words that are coming out of your mouth at lightning speed." Charles looked at him for a few seconds with red cheeks and, after taking a deep breath, asked him the fateful question.

"Would you still love me if I was a worm?"

Silence.

"What?" Erik asked in a whisper. Maybe he was still asleep and that's why Charles was talking nonsense.

"If I was a worm, would you still love me? I mean, you'd put a lettuce leaf on me and not throw me in the street, right?" It took Erik a second to formulate the question before bursting out laughing. He put his hands over his eyes and lay down on his back again. His belly ached from laughing and tears pricked his eyes.

"Okay, forget everything." Charles said in an offended tone and then turned over to the other side of the bed and covered his head with a pillow.

"No, no, wait." Erik said between laughs trying to pull the pillow off his lover's head.

"Look, I know it was a stupid question but there's no point in laughing at me. It's been stuck in my head all day and I felt the stupid need to tell you, okay? Can we pretend it didn't happen?"

"Come on, come here." He said hugging him from behind trying to be forgiven.

"Of course Charles, I would love you even if you were a worm. I would build you the most beautiful terrarium in the world and feed you only the freshest leaves." He said with his lips pressed between Charles' shoulder blades. The younger one raised his head from under the pillow.

"Really?"

"Sure, I can't believe I'm giving this speech. Maybe I'm still asleep." Erik continued amused. Charles smiled too and moved to embrace his boyfriend, planting a kiss on his shoulder and resting his head on the other's chest.

"I love you too." He whispered as Erik's hand ran through his hair.

"We should get married." snapped Charles suddenly.

Erik's eyes widened. Something told him neither of them would have sleeped that night.

[ninjastormhawkkat]

When Best Friends Meet - Part 1

8 year old Rebecca Fuller pouted angrily as she sat on a chair outside the principal's office. "It wasn't my fault that stupid brat got her nose broken. She shouldn't have been so mean in the first place." Rebecca grumbled under her breath. She knew she would get some trouble with her parents for breaking a kid's nose and nearly exposing her powers, but they wouldn't be as mad when they learned why their daughter did it. "Rebecca honey, people only get respect from you when they give it. There are times when violence is about the only solution you can give." Rebecca smiled at what her mother always told her. She was a good kind hearted woman but knew how to dish out a mean left hook herself when defending herself or others. Rebecca was brought out of her thoughts when she saw a boy with a bloody mouth walk to the chair next to her and sat down with it. He had a paper towel in his hand that was already becoming covered with blood as well. Rebecca winced in sympathy. 'Poor kid probably fell or got pummeled by a bully.' She usually didn't judge people by their appearances, but this kid was the definition of scrawny. He didn't' have any muscles and was only a few inches taller than Rebecca. He was wear brown shorts and a button up blue shirt coupled with a bow tie. This kid didn't look intimidating at all and couldn't even hurt a fly. Rebecca noticed to her surprise the boy wasn't crying or had any other bruises on his face nor arms. He was just sitting their patiently, minding his own business as he stared at his shoes. Rebecca's curiosity soon got the better of her so she decided to talk to the kid. "So did you already go to the nurse's office yet?" Rebecca asked. The boy seemed startled by Rebecca's voice and turned to face his seatmate with a confused expression. "What?" The boy asked. "I said, did you already go to the nurse's office before you came here?" Rebecca asked again. The boy just blinked at her, still looking confused. "I never went to the nurse's office. I'm not sick or hurt." The boy explained. This time it was Rebecca's turn to be confused. "Huh? The how did you get all that blood on your mouth?" Rebecca inquired. The boy seemed to hesitate before he responded. "I bit a kid's finger off and their blood squirted on my mouth." The kid explained in a low tone. Rebecca's eyes widened. "What? There is no way you were able to bite kid's finger off." Rebecca exclaimed, very doubtful of what she was hearing. Before the boy could respond, he began to cough violently. Rebecca began to panic as the boy seemed to be trying to hack something up, as if he was choking on something. Quickly, Rebecca hit the boy on his back not too hard, but hard enough to help him spit out whatever he was choking on. It worked as the boy spit something out mid-cough which landed on the floor near their feet. Rebecca's eyes now became wide as saucers as she saw a severed finger covered with saliva lying flat on the ground. The boy turned to look at Rebecca with an unbothered expression. He shrugged as if saying "I told you." There was a tense moment of silence before Rebecca found her voice. "Holy cow you really bit off someone's finger!" She whispered in stunned amazement. The boy just gave a slight nod. "Yep." He casually replied. Rebecca looked at the boy with a determined expression. "How in the world did you bite someone's finger off?" She demanded wanting answers. The boy fidgeted a bit, he had a slight stormy look as he recalled the incident. "I didn't mean to bite the kid's finger off. They were being a bully, making fun of my appearance. I tried ignoring them. They then called me a bad word. They said I was this bad word because I had two dads. That their own parents said my dads and I were this bad word as well as disgusting. I got so angry I bit there finger. I think I bit too hard." The boy grumbled with an angry expression. "I only bite people that make me mad and that kid really made mad. The teacher didn't see what happened just heard the kid screaming his head off." @melodythebunny @erraticeris

[hyperfixationstation128]

Chapter Six: Dinner and a Show

Rating: E (fluff/romance)

Summary: Gale treats Arcane to a much-needed meal and a private magic lesson, but the newfound connection they share feels far more powerful than any gift Mystra could bestow.

Word Count: 8,373

Once more, this is a longer chapter. I really appreciate y'alls patience with me as I worked. I think this chapter came out really nicely, so I hope you enjoy! Continue reading beneath the break!

There was a soft silence that surrounded Gale and Arcane as they made their way to his tower. The lights now snuffed out in the many shops and homes that lined their path, a few lone stragglers roaming about as they made their ways back home to rest for the night, awaiting the morrow’s ambling workday. Arcane fidgeted with the amulet in her hands as they ambled, her thumb gently stroking over the smooth-cut purple gemstone, fingers fumbling with the silver chain from which it hung.

She wasn’t quite sure why she needed it so badly. Sure, she wanted it because it was her grandfather’s and he had abandoned her with nary a note to remember him by, but whenever she thought about the boiling rage she felt at the prospect of never having it again, she was astounded by just how angry she had been. Something about getting his belongings back, the amulet especially, called to her; sang in her blood like some mighty need.

The sound of Gale’s voice beside her snapped her out of her thoughts. “I take it that stone means a great deal to you, yes? You mentioned it was your grandfather’s?”

Arcane glanced up at him, noting his inquisitive look. “Yes. He, uh, left rather suddenly, close to five years ago.” She felt her breath catch in her throat, the painful memories threatening to pull tears from her eyes. She shook her head slightly and sighed. “I haven’t heard from him in a long time, so when I heard my papa was sellin’ his things to make ends meet, I set out to find them. This is just one of his myriad of little trinkets.”

“Ah, I can see how you might think it’s just a trinket, but it is, in fact, imbued with magic.” He held up a finger to solidify his point. “You don’t feel that slight tingle in your hand? The dull pulse in your teeth? It’s faint, but powerful.” He drummed his fingers against his cheek.

Arcane’s teeth instinctively grinded against each other. “I suppose I shouldn’t be too surprised that grandda owned several magical items. He was always fond of secrets.” Her eyes squeezed shut for a moment. “Nor should I be surprised that he kept all of them from me, even if I did think I was special in his eyes.” A distant bang followed by drunken roarous laughter made Arcane jump, a memory of the rowdy pirates seared her mind. She recalled the feeling of their filthy hands on her body, groping her as she passed.

“Such is the way of those who are in tune with Mystra’s gifts.” Gale chimed in,  offering her a kind smile, one which crinkled at his eyes. “You are quite the mystery, yourself. I must confess, since I saw you during the storm, I’ve had this near overwhelming need to learn more about you. There’s something… indecipherable about you.”

“‘Indecipherable’, eh?” She chuckled wryly, shaking her head to clear it of the flashback. “You certainly know how to charm a woman.” She pocketed the amulet, considering his words for a moment. “What do you mean you saw me in the storm?”

The rosy flush painted his cheeks once more. “Ahh, well, I was having a relaxed day in my tower; partaking in a particularly lovely cup of tea, when all of a sudden, I heard a jarring roar of thunder.” His hands gesticulated in the air as he spoke; she liked that about him. “But this was no ordinary thunder, I thought to myself. The sheer resonance with which it crashed simply had to be magical in nature. I looked out onto the horizon, aided by my enchanted spyglass, where I saw it: a conjured, localized storm, the biggest I’d seen in a while, making a victim of a pirate ship.”

“My, quite jarring, indeed…” She trailed off, the flash of swords, the roar of thunder, the scent of rain mixed with blood flashed in her mind. She squeezed her eyes shut, but the images were burned behind her eyelids, inescapable, even in darkness. The fighting, the shouting; gods, the blood…

He continued on, his eyes glittering with what Arcane assumed to be amazement as he did so. “As previously stated, I recognized this storm to be magical in nature, and thus, had to find the source.” His hands stopped moving, and he paused to look at her. His eyes made Arcane’s heart flutter. “And there I saw it. A woman - you - standing in the eye of this monumental storm, surrounded by pirates; fighting with such ferocity, such capability, it was a near devastating blow to my ego! I couldn’t just stand by and watch. I had to help.”

There were few things that set Arcane’s heart aflutter, few words spoken to her that had managed to bring a flush to her cheeks. But the things he said, the way in which he talked about how he viewed her magic, the way he used his hands to signify his points… It left a warm glow soaring across her skin and pulled her from the harrowing thoughts. She smiled at him, soft and flirtatious, taking a step closer to him, her fingers dancing on the lapels of his waistcoat. Hoping that if he continued to compliment her, it would wash away the feelings of being back there, back on that ship.

“Well? Don’t stop there, tell me more.” Her words trailed off into a breathy sigh, her eyes softening.

Gale only beamed at her, continuing on. “Happily! Thankfully, due to my keen eye, I identified this ship to not only be a pirate ship, but a slave ship! Knowing there’d be poor souls trapped below, I called forth a Knock spell. With a Weaving of words and a flick of my hand, I managed to successfully unlock their cells. Freeing the slaves, who rushed to your aid!” Once more, his hands waved in the air, demonstrating the movement he’d done. “And thus, the day was saved!”

Arcane’s smile fell and her brow furrowed. Was he… was he really trying to take credit for her efforts? Her hands released his waistcoat (perhaps pushing him back a little harder than she meant to) and she stepped away, continuing along the streets in silence, irritation biting at her burning ears.

The memories came back. The glint of Cutler’s blade raised high in the storm. The chorus of devilish shouts as she was swarmed by the crew. Her nerves stood on end, her eyes burned with unshed tears.

“Did I say something wrong? I promise you, I was merely recounting what I witnessed!” Gale caught up to her, his eyes wide and apologetic.

“Oh, no, not at all!” Arcane sneered, her arms folded over her chest. “I must’ve only imagined fighting through a wave of pirates, getting stabbed, and killing my first man. Far be it from me to think all those poor souls were rescued by my effort. I merely ‘conjured a storm’.”

The clap of thunder. The feeling of warm blood rushing through her fingers. The sting as a blade met her flesh.

Gale stepped in front of her, hands raised to halt her steps and eyes now darkened by his displeased frown. “If I said something impertinent, I’d rather you tell me outright. I’m not one for playing these childish games.”

The loss of breath as she was thrown against the mast. The soft splatter of blood on her face. Cutler’s words ringing in her ears. ‘The one thing a woman is good for, and you’re so bad at it!’ Her father’s words:

‘What a waste of magic’

‘What a waste of magic’

‘What a waste of magic!’

Arcane bristled, her fingers digging into her arms. “Childish?! You just took credit for almost everything I did. Blatantly ignoring the danger I was in and recounting it as if it were some childhood fairytale!” Her voice raised, but caught in her throat as the memories came flooding back. “It wasn’t some heroic deed. It was mortifying! And I wasn’t some valiant knight in shining armor. I was scared.”

She watched as Gale’s eyes softened, his brow unfurrowing and his mouth slightly gaping at her words. He paused a moment, his eyes now scouring the ground beneath them, as if the cobbled streets held his next words. His shoulders rose and fell as he sighed, offering her a sympathetic look.

“I’m sorry. Really, I am. And you’re right, I wasn’t thinking about what it must have been like during the altercation.” He placed a hand on her shoulder. “I’m afraid I was a tad… exuberant when I recalled it. I was safe in my tower, meanwhile, you… you were right in the thick of it! Fighting for your life, trying to control the storm around you. I hope you can forgive my unthoughtful words.”

She felt the tension in her shoulders ease at his touch. Gods, he was warm. Not quite like a roaring fire, but like the soft flicker of candlelight - bright and endearing - a welcome reprieve from the cold. Despite his apology and soft touch, Arcane gently shifted herself, letting his hand slip off her shoulder.

“I forgive you.” She muttered, averting his gaze lest she burst into flame, her fingers picking at her cuticles. “And I’m sorry for raising my voice. That was… unkind.”

“Ha! Believe it or not, that’s not the first time I’ve been shouted at for speaking without further thought. Though, I’m sorry to say, it probably will happen again.” He chuckled. “I remember this one time as a boy, I- Well, that’s probably a story best paired with a glass of wine. What say you to finally heading to my tower and cracking open a bottle, yes?”

A soft smile found its way back to Arcane’s lips, glancing back up at him. Wordlessly, she nodded, and wordlessly, they continued on.

It didn’t take long for the pair to make it back to his tower in the Docks Ward, only about 16 or so minutes. But when they did, Arcane could only stare up at it. The tower loomed over them, casting dark shadows onto the street below. She’d never seen a wizard’s tower before, at least, not one like this. With its stalwart stone foundation - built to withstand the crashing waves - and its aged, yet handsome wooden walls, it was quite the sight to behold! Not to mention, the grand foyer that greeted them. Paintings lined every wall, stacks of books littered the floor; it was cluttered with the kind of organized mess one would expect a young scholar living on his own to have.

To say Arcane was in awe would be an understatement; she was downright gobsmacked! Never before seeing such an incredible home in all her years!

“Ye, gods… You live here?” She gaped at the view before her, mindlessly working her coat off her shoulders. “It’s incredible! How can you live with so much space?”

Gale chuckled behind her, taking her coat and hanging it on the coat rack nearby before she could drop it to the floor, trying his best to not let his eyes linger on the tears in her shirt that revealed her tan skin. “Yes, I suppose it is rather generous in its size. A wizard can’t be expected to live in a hovel, after all.”

“Pfft, tell that to my grandda. He preferred smaller spaces.” Arcane snickered.

“Mr. Dekarios? Is that you?” A voice rang from up the stairs. Arcane turned to look back at Gale, trying not to giggle.

“Who was that, your housekeeper?”

Gale grinned in response, excitedly taking her by the hand and leading her up the stairs. “You’re going to love this. Follow me!”

Arcane followed suit, the two quickly bounding up the stairs and into a lovely seating room. Rows upon rows of books lined the far wall, their inlaid golden leaf spines illuminated by dozens of lit candelabras. On the floor, there lay an ornamental rug, upon which sat a plump cozy couch. There were no words to describe just how she felt, taking in the gorgeous sight before her.

“Now, this is something I could get used to!” Pangur chirped beside them, paws outstretched as he arched his back. “We’re definitely gonna have to get ourselves a home like this some day.”

“Aye, you could say that again…” Arcane’s eyes wandered around the room, taking in as much detail as she could, until a striking flash of orange, black, and white caught her eye. There, atop the back of the couch, green eyes stared at the group. A cat? No… surely it couldn’t be…

“Arcane, I’d like you to meet Tara. Who is decidedly not my housekeeper, but in fact, my friend.” Gale strode over to her, giving her a soft scratch behind her ears, into which she leaned, a wide pair of impressive wings spanning out from her shoulders. “Tara, this is Arcane and her companion, Pangur. They’ll be joining us for the evening.”

“By Greatshout's handlebar mustache! A Tressym?!” Arcane rushed over to get a closer look, kneeling down to be eye level with the creature. “Oh, Gale, she’s gorgeous! Tara, was it? By the gods, I’ve never seen such a beautiful creature in all my life!” She presented her hand to her, offering her scent.

Tara’s eyes widened at the sudden closeness and recoiled from her hand, giving Gale a pensive look. “Mr. Dekarios, you know I’ll always encourage you to make new friends, but to invite them over while the tower is in such disarray!” She ruffled her feathers before settling them back at her sides. “Without even a thought to send word ahead so I might make myself presentable.”

“Come now, Tara, you’re positively radiant!” Gale chuckled, continuing to pet her.

“Aye, and the prettiest wee birdie I ever did see...” Pangur made his way over to the group, his blue eyes staring unblinkingly at the Tressym.

Tara bristled, her wings fanning out to make her appear larger, and hissed. “Good heavens! What in Mystra’s name is that foul creature doing here?!”

Pangur stretched up on his hind legs, his forepaws resting on the couch as he leaned in closer. “Oh, there’s no need to be so ruffled, birdie.” He purred, licking his lips. “I may be half Cath Shee, but I’m no monster… unless the lady prefers it that way.”

Tara growled, swiping her claws at Pangur, striking him on the nose before retreating onto Gale’s shoulders, her fluffy tail lashing from side to side.

“Pangur! Don’t be vulgar!” Arcane chastised him, her arms scooping under his chest and lifting him into her arms, stepping away. “Miss Tara, I’m so sorry! Please, you’ll have to forgive my companion. He likes to pretend I never taught him any manners.” She glared pointedly at the cat-creature in her arms. He smiled haughtily as he dangled.

Gale stifled a chuckle, lifting Tara from his shoulders and placing her on the floor. “They’re our guests, Tara. And they’ve both traveled a long and hard road, so let’s try to avoid any further confrontation, shall we?”

“That depends entirely on the behavior of said guests. Oh, how you like to vex my nerves with your antics, Mr. Dekarios.” Her tail continued to swish back and forth. “But I shall endeavor to persevere. Now, let us not forget our manners. The poor girl is clearly in need of a bath!”

Arcane’s face flushed red. She hadn’t considered just how dirty she looked or how badly she must’ve smelled, but now that Tara had mentioned it, the grime that clung to her skin seemed weighed down on her.

The Tressym began to lead the pair across the room. “Come now, miss Arcane. Let’s see if we can’t wash away the toils of what clearly must have been a terrible ordeal.”

It didn’t take long for them to reach the washroom. It was unlike anything she’d seen before! A porcelain, clawfoot tub sat before them, with brass piping snaking up the wall. Arcane wondered for a moment just how well off this Gale character seemed to be. Perhaps a family fortune? She supposed it didn’t matter, all she wanted was a hot bath.

Tara shooed Pangur out the door before returning to hop onto the bathtub’s edge, explaining the concept of running water to her before hopping to the floor and sitting down, watching her. Arcane reached for the hem of her torn shirt, slowly peeling it from her skin, sucking in a sharp breath as it dragged across the nasty gash that hadn’t fully healed.

“Good gracious, child! How have you been walking around with such cuts and bruises?” Tara exclaimed, her tail flitting from side to side as she reached up to sniff at the wound, her lips curling in disgust. “Ugh, they’re positively rank!”

Arcane glanced at her wounds, shrugging slightly. “I had other things to take care of, I guess. They didn’t start hurting until I got to the tower.” She pulled at her skin, trying to get a better view of the damage, and dragged her finger lightly across the gash. “Ahh! But, I suppose they’ve grown tired of being ignored.” she winced, speaking through clenched teeth.

“Indeed! You’d better wash up quickly before an infection sets in.” She trotted off towards the door, which cracked open upon her approach. “You try and relax, miss Arcane. I’ll see if Mr. Dekarios has any healing potions amidst this disorderly tower of his.” The flickering of her multicolored tail was the last thing she saw before the door shut behind her.

Turning to the bathtub, she ran the water - as hot as she could stand it - and disrobed before stepping in. She hissed and panted as she tried to acclimate her body to the heat, finally sinking into the water with a deep, relieved sigh that left her dizzy. The warm water stung at her wounds as they were submerged, the stinging eventually dulling to a numb, throbbing pain. She pulled her knees to her chest, wrapping her arms around them.

‘I thought I told you to undress completely, wench!’

The crack of the leather belt.

Arcane buried her face in her knees, the memory echoing in her mind.

‘Now what will your dear betrothed think of you? Now that you're spoiled goods!’

Her fingers found themselves pulling at her hair, pain coursing through her head as she yanked the knotted stands tightly against her scalp. As if doing so would block away all memory of the trauma.

His icy blue eyes, his hellish smile, his rough hands. Hands, her hands, covered in blood. Her blood, his blood. The wheezing gasps he took as he strangled on his last breath.

The memories continued to plague Arcane’s mind, pulling herself into a tighter ball, pulling at her hair harshly. She couldn’t believe she had been so stupid! She couldn't believe she had ever allowed such a despicable, rotten man to ever lay hands on her. Not to mention the disbelief at her ignorance to Cutler's deception. She was disgusted with herself. She should’ve seen it coming.

Arcane grabbed the sides of the tub, the water splashing over the sides as she did so, and began to lift herself out of the bathtub. She didn't deserve to be clean.

The door opened, Arcane slipped, falling back into the water. Her eyes shot to the door, wide with panic. To her relief, it was only Tara, returning with a small vial, a sponge, and a bar of soap trailing behind her in the air, suspended by her magic.

     “I certainly hope you're not leaving! You've barely even scrubbed the mud from your face!” She once again hopped on the edge of the tub, folding her tail over her paws. “Here you are, drink this. It won't stop your wounds from scarring, I’m afraid, but it should heal them.”

Arcane stared at Tara, tentatively taking the vial and inspecting it closely. Tiny remnants of rogue's morsel salts sloshed around in the red liquid. Good. She uncorked the bottle and downed the liquid, feeling the gashed skin of her wound tightening and contracting to form deep, scarlet scars.

     “Thank you, Miss Tara. I feel better already.” she sighed, taking the sponge and lathering herself in the soap.

Sandalwood, spiced, sweet, and creamy, with hints of coconut.

After her bath, she wrapped herself in a bathrobe and followed Tara to, quote, “Wear something more acceptable than tattered rags.”. She felt cleaner than she had in what felt like years. Her skin smelled delightfully sweet, finding herself rolling up her sleeves just to press her nose to her arm and get another whiff.

While Arcane took her time getting changed, Gale was at work in the kitchen. If he guessed correctly, she wouldn’t have had much to eat in the past few days save for the dried rations they handed out in the Castle’s prisons. Besides, his mother would be most dissatisfied with him if he neglected to feed his guest. He stood there, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows to avoid staining them, slicing away at some limes while a pot of rice sat bubbling on the stove. A fragrant - and the had to admit, ambrosial - smell filled the air, combining into an amazing mixture of spiced fish, lime, and cilantro.

It was no secret to anyone that he loved cooking. It gave him something to focus his thoughts on, something he could control. When all the world seemed to drown in chaos, cooking a meal for either himself or loved ones was just one of the few things he could do to quiet the noise. But tonight… he found his mind wandering.

‘That poor girl.’ he thought to himself, ‘She must be petrified having gone through what she did. Surviving the wreck, getting locked away for a crime she didn’t commit… no wonder she’s so on edge.’ He was so lost in his thoughts that he didn’t hear the door to the kitchen open.

“Need some help?”

Gale turned his head, his fingers losing their grip on the knife, falling to the cutting board with a clatter. Arcane stood in the doorway, her fingers fumbling with the tasseled ties that held a sheer, floor-length robe to her form. The iridescent green silk complimented her sun-kissed skin and matched her eyes near perfectly, and it flowed behind her like water, exposing her lithe, bare legs, and over her ample hips as she meandered over to him. Her dark hair draped freely over her shoulders, finally clean of all the filth that dared to touch her, and framed her face perfectly.

She was a vision - a downright exquisite sight to behold. Gale blinked hard, as if doing so would pull illusion from reality, but yet there she still stood in front of him. The prettiest picture he’d ever seen.

“I, uhh, suppose it couldn’t hurt.” He shook his head, trying his best to ignore the unconscious tightening of his pants as excitement built within him. “I’m just about finished, but you could help me plate the fish.”

“It smells divine! A Waterdhavian dish?” She stood next to him, eyes scanning the food on the counter.

Gale could hardly breathe, lest he take in the succulent notes of sandalwood that blended perfectly with the scent of her skin. He nodded, silently averting his eyes to focus back on slicing the limes.

She chimed in once more, her sweet, velvety voice continued to send shivers down his spine. “This is incredible! Back in Daggerford, we mostly ate things like clam chowder or fried, breaded fish. Which, mind you, is good if you’ve the stomach for it, but the smell certainly doesn’t compare to what you’ve made here!”

He felt her eyes boring into him. Gods, how she made him burn. Gale mentally lectured himself over the sudden effect she had. She was simply a woman! An attractive woman, make no mistake, but just a woman nonetheless. He kept himself busy, eyes fixated on his work as he stirred the rice, squeezing the lime juice over it before topping it with roughly chopped cilantro leaves. He reached for the plates he’d set aside, handing them to Arcane so she could help. Her fingers brushed against his, lingering far too long and far too quickly before he swiftly moved out of her way.

Gale’s hands found themselves pushing back his hair, his eyes wandering unabashedly over her form as she arranged the food on the plates. He recognized this robe - a shameless gift left over from Merletta after a particularly regrettable drunken visit. It didn’t nearly suit her as much as it suited Arcane. She turned to him, plates in hand, and she smiled. The color had returned to her face, painting her freckled cheeks and full lips with a warm, peachy glow. He swallowed thickly, reaching for the plate, but she pulled away from him, smirking.

“Ah, ah!” She tutted, a playful twinkle in her eyes. “You’ve done far too much for me already. The least I can do is help bring dinner to the table.”

Gale couldn’t help the smile that mirrored hers, a stifled chuckle exhaling through his nose. “As you wish, my lady.” He gestured to the side, silently leading her into the dining room where she set the table - his plate on one end, hers on the other - and sat down.

He watched as she sat across from him, resting her elbows on the table as she folded her hands and bowed her head, muttering a hushed prayer. “I didn’t take you as the religious sort.” He fanned out his napkin before placing it in his lap.

“I’m not. I don’t hold enough faith in the gods to pray to them on a daily basis.” She matched his movement, placing her own napkin over her legs. “But tonight is a special occasion. I’m giving thanks for the stroke of luck I seem to have stumbled upon.” Soft fingers danced on the edges of her plate, hungrily eyeing the meal.

“Ah, all thanks to a certain handsome wizard who saw it fit to offer you shelter for the evening, no doubt?” Gale shot her a playful smirk.

She laughed, her smile scrunching her nose. “Well, I certainly didn’t add the ‘handsome’ part, but I’ll be sure to correct myself later if you wish.” Her fork lightly prodded at the fish. “Though, I have to admit, I don’t feel overall deserving of the kindness you’ve shown me thus far.”

Gale was taken aback by this, his first bite stopping short at his open lips. How could she say such a thing? He set his fork back on the plate. “Why not? Forgive me for bringing what must be a hard topic for you back to light, but was it not you who freed an entire vessel of slaves whilst simultaneously fighting off waves of pirates? They would have died - or worse - had it not been for your selfless actions!”

He watched as her eyes fell to the table, her brow knitting together. “I hardly did anything.” She mumbled, lifting her eyes back to him, soft and contrite. “I’ve had some time to think it over since being here and… you were right to take credit for their freedom. Had it not been for you, your well-timed spell, they’d have gone down with the ship! I’m… I’m so sorry for how I acted, Gale. You didn’t deserve that.”

The pair stared at each other, a silent exchange of sympathetic glances, before Gale smiled softly at her. “I forgive you, Arcane.” The forgiveness seemed to be enough, the two finally turning to their meals.

“Gods, this is amazing! You’ve a real talent!” She exclaimed, covering her chewing mouth as she spoke.

“I’m glad you’re impressed! Not to boast, but I do know my way around the kitchen.”

She eagerly took another bite. “Don’t be so humble. This is, without a doubt, the best supper I’ve had in a while!” She barely took the time to chew before swallowing, humming her enjoyment. “Whoever manages to lock you down in the future won’t go hungry, that’s for certain!”

Gale’s heart jumped at the mention of marriage, his cheeks warming at the thought. He cleared his throat. “I, ahem, I don’t necessarily think of myself as one for matrimony. Least of all with anyone I’ve met thus far. I’m… not particularly well-liked by my peers.”

Arcane halted to look up at him, her brow quirked in confusion. She looked him over, as if doing so would reveal just what exactly he was talking about. Given his action since their introduction, she found it rather strange that he wasn’t at the very least talking to someone special.

“So, no long-lost lovers? I shouldn’t expect to see an angry man or woman storming through the doors to catch their partner sharing a meal with a strange woman?” That delightful playful smirk returned to her lips.

“Ha! Certainly not.” He felt the soft pang of disappointment tug at his heart as he continued. “To be perfectly honest with you, I’m afraid I’m seen as something of a pretentious ass, if you’ll excuse my language. I have… a certain reputation that people tend to cling to, rather than who I am at heart.” It didn’t go without mentioning that he deeply craved affection. The only kind one would get from a lover, not the familial, motherly love he’d grown accustomed to from Tara and his mother.

Arcane hummed, considering his words for a moment before reaching across the table to get his attention, their eyes meeting as she smiled. “Well, for what it’s worth, I think you’re lovely.”

“Truly?” His voice raised slightly in surprise at her confession.

“Truly,” She echoed. “Far lovelier than any of the horrid men I’ve had the misfortune of meeting, anyway. And I don’t think you’re an arse, I think you’re passionate.”

Her words struck him like an arrow to the heart and warmed him from head to toe. She was one to talk. It wasn’t difficult for him to admit to himself that he found her lovely, too. Quite lovely, in fact. She was audacious, ambitious, funny… soft. A far cry from the other men and women he’d had in his life, who only saw him for the status that came with his inherent talents, rather than who he was at his core. It was comforting to meet someone who claimed to enjoy his company.

His eyes fell back to his plate, finding it hard to focus clearly if he kept staring at her. His mind raced as he looked for another topic to speak of. “So, ahem, your name…” he trailed off.

Arcane chuckled. “Haha, I knew this would come up sooner or later. It always does.” She took a sip of the white wine in front of her. “Grandda named me. I used to beg him to tell the story over and over again as a girl.” Her shoulders rose and fell as she sighed.

“It must have been an enthralling experience, if it warrants a story. Would you care to share it?”

A wry snicker crinkled her nose once more, frowning slightly. “If you insist, though I assure you, it’s hardly the tall tale grandda made it out to be.” She straightened in her seat and cleared her throat, dotting the napkin at the corners of her mouth. “It was an especially rainy time. In the wee hours of the morning, on the second tenday of Kythorn, a baby girl was born. The thunder heralded her delivery, the waves cheered her arrival. Aloft in my arms, I held her to the heavens and thusly, I cried, ‘Arcane! Daughter of the Weave!’” Arcane imitated her grandfather’s voice as best she could.

Gale watched as she acted out the scene, listening intently, engrossed as she recounted the tale.

“Arcane, I called her. Blessed, she was. Consigned to be my apprentice. My light, my love, my darlin’ little dove.” Arcane’s voice waved slightly at the pet name. Her heart sank with the fond memory. She gripped the edge of the table, steadying her breath before she continued. “‘Little dove’. That’s what he called me. He’s the one to credit for my magic, teaching me all he knew. Before he disappeared…”

Gale’s heart ached for her. His abandonment clearly affected her deeply. He felt a sense of… well, he wasn’t quite sure what to call it. Compassion? No, he felt far too heated for that. Protectiveness? The thought baffled him! For only a few short hours, had he known her, and yet, he still felt the soft burn of a need to protect radiating in his arms. He knew the pain of abandonment from a father figure all too intimately. To see a similar experience reflected in someone who was most undeserving of it… well, it made him angry.

“I’m so sorry, Arcane.” Was all he could manage.

She shrugged slightly, dropping the napkin over her plate. “It was five years ago. I imagine the pain of losing his daughter to sickness clouded his judgment. Perhaps he left to seek out a cure for death. Maybe he grew tired of our quaint home on the waterfront.” A hand raised to wipe away a tear that damped her lashes before it fell. “It wasn’t uncommon for him to just up and leave out of nowhere. But his most recent departure seemed decidedly final and… sudden.”

“Your mother passed?” He caught himself grasping his chest. The mere thought of losing his own mother made his blood run cold. He would never be able to relate to such a devastating loss. Arcane merely nodded, silently sipping her wine as she averted her gaze.

Gale stood, taking their now empty plates and setting them in the sink. He wasn’t sure what to say in this situation; he only knew that he felt for the poor girl. A distraction, perhaps? Something to turn their thoughts away from the bleak conversation. He turned to face her, leaning against the counter and rubbing his hands together.

“You mentioned it’s been five years? That’s far too great a time to go without your grandfather’s guidance.” He ambled over to her, offering his hand. “What do you say to a private lesson from an accomplished Wizard?”

Arcane scrutinized his hand for a moment, gazing up at him with a cocked brow. Surely, he wasn’t being serious. But the look he held on his face, that soft smile, those warm eyes, that gentle tone. She bit down on her knuckle, hesitating before slipping her hand into his. He was soft, his fingers wrapping gently around her own as he guided her to her feet.

“I thought you were impressed by my magical prowess?” She spoke, finding herself quite breathless.

Gale let out another breathy chuckle, shaking his head slightly. “Make no mistake, my lady. Seeing you in action was certainly extraordinary, but you lack a certain… discipline.”

The corners of Arcane’s lips fell and she slightly clenched her jaw, her eyes half-lidded as she made an unimpressed face. Gale held up a hand, sensing the impact his words had on her nerves.

“No, no, don’t mishear me! You’re rapturous! Invigorating, even! But you’re lacking in self-control. That isn’t necessarily a bad thing, it just needs correcting.” His eyes glanced to her hand in his, thumb mindlessly dragging across her knuckles. “I’d… be honored to teach you.”

He certainly had a knack for making someone feel both inadequate and flattered all at the once. If Arcane was in her right mind, she’d decline after some harsh words. But the way he held her hand, the way his honeyed, erudite tone warmed her heart… She found herself entranced, unable - no, unwilling - to say no. She hesitated for another beat, but finally relented and followed where he led.

The two of them eventually made their way to the impressive library Gale had previously mentioned. And impressive, it was! From wall-to-wall, the room was practically made of books! Small, marble statues were scattered about the floor, and a heavy wooden desk sat in the far corner upon which a multitude of magical items, crystals, and scribbled parchment littered its surface. Sextants, globes, maps, and tomes littered the floor in an organized mess, and along the left hand wall, was a roaring hearth; two comfortable armchairs lay before it, separated only by an ornate coffee table.

It was the perfect picture of comfort and safety. The perfect place for a Wizard to unwind after a long day of… whatever it is that they do. Arcane gaped at the room before her, eyes widened with wonder, her hands mindlessly tracing across the nearby bookshelf.

“You have got to be kidding me!” She gasped, turning to scan the multitude of books next to her. “Have you actually read all of these?”

Gale chuckled beside her, moving to stand by her side while he admired his collection. “Oh, yes. I have carefully curated quite the extensive collection.” His finger hooked over the spine of a book, pulling it free and running his hands along its cover. “I have found that when you lack a social circle, it’s nice to find companionship among written words.”

Arcane continued to browse the books, tucking her hair behind her ear, eyes scanning the multitude of titles before landing on a familiar sight. Etched into the black leather cover and inlaid with silver leaf was a rather crude depiction of a woman in the arms of a hulking man, his lips at her chest, her hands in his hair.

“Hey, I have this one!” She pulled it free from the shelf, a smile spreading across her lips. It was a romance novel; a badly written one, at that. She smirked at Gale, wondering to herself how such a well-spoken, gentlemanly scholar like himself could read such filth. “Gale! I never expected one such as yourself to own something so… dirty.”

Gale’s face flushed red and he reached for the book, but Arcane pulled back. “Ah! That’s, uhh, that’s just something a fellow classmate lent to me years ago. It’s nothing really, just a terribly written excuse of a romance novel.” He rubbed the back of his neck, eyes darting around the room apprehensively. “I haven’t even-”

Arcane interrupted him, pressing her fingers to his lips and stepping closer. “Gale, you don’t need to explain yourself to me. I was only teasing you.” She saw him relax under her touch. “And you don’t need to tell me that this book is terrible. As I said before, I’ve read it. Actually, I quite enjoyed it!” Her hand moved to his shoulder.

Gale’s eyes widened in surprise. He never expected anyone to say they enjoyed such lascivious works. Arcane was turning out to be quite the surprise. His eyes softened, his hand reaching to cover hers. “That’s… quite a relief. To be perfectly honest with you, I have many more books that cover a wide range of topics pertaining to…” he shifted uncomfortably and cleared his throat. “Pleasures of the flesh.”

Arcane giggled, moving her hand from shoulder to his chest, where she gave him a placating pat, before turning to return the book to its place on the shelf. Gale tried his best to ignore the fire she ignited under her touch, but with the warmth of her touch heating through his clothes, he couldn’t deny the excitement she brought out in him. His mind wandered, imagining what she must feel like under that silk robe. Imagining how much sweeter his name on her tongue would sound if only he could touch her. A vision of her on top of him, eyes drunk with desire, her voice crying out his name, pert breasts heaving with every shaky pant that fell from those perfect lips flashed in his mind. It made his blood roar in his ears.

Catching himself staring at her for far longer than was appropriate, he blinked hard and shook his head, taking her hand in his once more and leading her to the balcony doors. “Well! Now that I’ve sufficiently embarrassed myself. Shall we proceed to your lesson?”

Arcane nodded and followed after him. Gale made a show of using his magic to open the doors, slowly revealing the world outside, the docks below them, the dark sea that glittered in the moonlight. He silently thanked the gods for making it so lovely tonight. He wanted to astound her. He watched as her eyes flew wide, her mouth hanging open, gaping in pure awe at the view that lay before them. She became a work of art in the night, the moonlight dancing across her skin, the stars sparkling in her seafoam eyes.

“Oh, Gale..” She whispered. Her amazement was like music to his ears. “It’s… it’s incredible! I-I don’t have the words!” She turned to him, a wide smile pulling at her lips.

He hummed in agreement, walking to stand beside her, gazing out at the gentle waves. “This is my favorite place in the world. I’ve spent many a night out here beneath the stars, captured by books, enthralled by my studies… or merely enjoying the view.” He side-eyed her, her eyes still taking in the sight, and he felt his hands clench at his sides. He swallowed, continuing. “Although, I must say, I’ve never had the pleasure of enjoying the sight with such… enchanting company.” His heart leapt to his throat, the sudden regret at admitting such a thing nearly choking him.

Arcane tensed slightly, her eyes trailing down to the floor and up into his own. That warm, peachy glow now burning ever brighter on her cheeks. She parted her lips to speak, but found herself speechless. Her hand raised to cup the side of her face and turned away from him, fearing she would burst if she continued to meet his gaze. Warm fingers traced her chin as he turned her head back to him, the subtle mixes of pensiveness and gentility pooling in his eyes.

Gale cleared his throat. “Now, I believe we came here for a lesson, yes? Shall we?” He straightened his back, squaring his shoulders. “Now, this is a rather complicated spell, but not to worry, I will be here with you every step of the way.”

Arcane silently mimicked his stance, squaring her shoulders and nodding curtly.

“Follow my movements.” His hands swam through the air, a soft purple light emanating from his fingertips as he gently formed a ball of light between his hands, repeating the motion before opening them as if he were setting a dove free.

Arcane watched him intently, taking in the fluidity of his movements, the way he grinned as he worked, the way the gentle hues illuminated his dark eyes. When he was done, he turned to her expectantly, gesturing for her to do the same. She shook out her arms, stretching and clenching her fingers, trying to steady the slight tremor in her hands and copied his movements, although lacking in his fluency. There was no unmistakable magical glow from her fingers.

“That was good! Your hands were a tad shaky, though. May I?” He gestured to her hands as if to ask if he could correct her maneuvers.

She nodded and he moved behind her, reaching around and taking her hands in his. He slowly, gently, helped to steady the shake as he moved with her, repeating the movement once more. Arcane resisted the urge to lean back against him, instead trying to calm her mind and focus. It took a minute, but in a bright flash of violet light, magic burst from her palms.

“Ha! That was marvelous!” His voice reverberated against her back, raising the hair along her arms. “You’re a natural. You just need to steady your hand.”

Arcane craned her neck back to look up at him. She felt him stiffen against her, his hands suddenly gripping hers tightly. “You’re a wonderful teacher.” She managed, swallowing thickly. A soft, warm feeling surging through her body. She wasn’t quite sure if it was the magic, or it was due to their pair’s close proximity. Either way, it was calming and gentle. A familiar, but long since lost feeling.

He pulled away, Arcane almost whining at the loss of his heat at her back, and moved to stand in front of her again. “Yes, well…” He didn’t continue his thought, his shoulders rising and falling with a sharp breath. “Ah, let’s get back to it shall we? Repeat after me verbatim.”

She nodded, determined to get it right this time, though her mind wondered if she were to fail again, how he might correct her twisted tongue. She shuddered slightly at the idea.

His voice echoed around them, soft but booming, like some far off roll of thunder. “Ah-Thran Mystra-ryl Kantrach-Ao” His words rolled off his tongue, sweet and dark.

Now words were easy for her; she repeated him, her own voice reverberating around them like his did before. The volume of her voice would have startled her, if it weren’t for the tranquility that enveloped her, the scent of rosewater in her nose, the sweetest taste on her tongue. The familiar memories flowed back to her.

‘I am Mystra’ She remembered the voice she heard so long ago, the calmness, the peace, the safety she felt in the void on that cold, dark day. Arcane closed her eyes, her head lulling back as she embraced the feelings. It tingled her scalp and radiated through her limbs. She smiled and couldn’t help but wiggle her fingers, the soft shivers of walking into Mystra’s presence was an unmistakable and nostalgic one.

“Wonderful! Now, keep your eyes closed and try to bring to mind the purest concept of harmony.”

That was an easy task. Her mother’s lullaby, ringing softly in the back of her mind, gently lilted from her lips. The memory of being held in her arms as she was steadily rocked to sleep. The softness of her hands as her fingers ran through her daughter’s hair. The clearest image of her mother as she was in life: Tall, lithe, beautiful. With her full, blue-black curly hair and her silver eyes. It occurred to Arcane that she had inherited her mother’s face, her long straight nose, her full pink lips, the curve of her wide almond eyes. The corners of Arcane’s lips couldn’t stop themselves from turning upward, her brows pulling together as the vision of her mother began to stream tears down her face.

It was indisputable. This was the presence of Mystra. A feeling she long since thought had been lost to time. “I never thought I’d feel her again.” Her voice was hoarse, breaking slightly from the tears. She lifted her hand to her face to wipe them away. She felt Gale shift, the warmth of his person fanning over her body.

“You did so well.” Gale’s voice was soft and laden with admiration.

She opened her eyes to peer up at him. It had been years since she had seen such pride, especially pointed in her direction, but the way he looked at her… it sent her heart racing. She wasn’t sure if it was the magic that surrounded them, or the honeyed tones of his words, but she felt the growing coils of desire pooling in her stomach. Their smiles slowly fell as they stared at one another. Not out of displeasure, but expectation. The anticipation to see what the other would do. She wanted him. He wanted her, too.

It was Gale who moved first, stepping closer, his eyes dark yet soft. He raised his hand to place his knuckle under her chin, tilting her head upward. All breath seemed to be pulled from Arcane’s lungs, her heart drummed against her chest, as she slowly raised herself onto her toes, inching ever closer to his lips. Their combined soft breaths met one another, their mouths parted, their eyes closed.

And they kissed.

It was tentative, light, and apprehensive. He tasted sweet, tangy, savory; he tasted like magic. Arcane’s hands raised from clenched fists at her sides and slid up his chest, gently clutching at his shirt. His hand hesitantly rested on her hip, experimenting with touch as he pulled her closer, their bodies now flush with one another. Blood rushed to Arcane’s head, the world tilting dizzyingly on its axis, stars blinking behind her closed eyes. He was so much sweeter than magic. He was divinity made flesh.

He parted his lips against hers, moving to deepen the kiss when abruptly, the magic around them dissipated. The sudden cold of the nighttime air on her skin forced a sharp gasp from Arcane’s lungs. She pulled away, eyes wide, face flushed. Gale was breathless, his chest heaving as he struggled to steady himself. His eyes were dark, intimately soft.

“I-I… I didn’t know it could feel like that.” Stars still spotted her eyesight, shaking her head to clear them. “I mean, um… th-the magic. I didn’t…” Her words were lost and her eyes fell to the floor, trying to find them.

Her mind whirled at what just happened. Of course, he wasn’t the first man she’d kissed without knowing too well, but he was certainly the first to ever kiss her so tenderly. Her fingers raised to press against her lips, an unconscious attempt to replicate the feeling of his kiss. To say she was flustered would be an understatement. Gale started to speak, but Arcane covered his mouth with her hand.

She pulled away from him, praying she had the strength to dismiss her arousal. She wanted nothing more than to pounce on him, to feel his tongue in her mouth, on her skin. But the memories of moving too quickly haunted her. No, she’d take her time with this one. She’d savor every soft moment, every gentle touch. Her hands lingered on his chest for another moment before dropping to her sides completely.

“Thank you, Gale.” She managed a smile. “This was a wonderful experience.”

[feuerspirit]

The kiss prompts- 42 for Sebchal

"I'm signing a contract with Mercedes," says Charles. His quiet words ring in the silence, rattle like a mountain waterfall somewhere in the distance, make noise and grow like an endless crescendo, and then suddenly break off, leaving behind a deafening emptiness.

Sebastian is silent.

"Are you angry?"

Sebastian looks at him, tilts his head like a bird, studying. Maybe he spent too much time here in Swiss seclusion, maybe his recent words about "unity with nature" were too literal.

"Say something."

"They're not successful now," his first words. Charles barely restrains himself from rolling his eyes. He doesn't know exactly what he expected, but he doesn't like Seb's reaction. He sees in it condemnation. Provocation. Disapproval. Maybe he's only projecting his own voice of uncertainty.

"Yes," Charles confirms. He isn't crazy or an idiot, he has no illusions that somehow Mercedes will give him a magic car after several years of hard struggle.

"Ferrari has a better car," Sebastian says again. Charles sighs. He would be angry, perhaps in the past, if he hadn't gone through this ruthless school of growing up, if he hadn't explained it dozens of times in recent days.

"But they still can't give me a title. I need a team that knows what it's doing. I want to help them win the title, and I want them to help me win mine."

Sebastian raises his eyebrows.

"And if Mercedes prefers George?"

Charles snorts.

"Ferrari already preferred Carlos."

Sebastian nods in agreement.

"Look, I know it's a strange choice, but I know I can help them if the team listens to me. You've been trying to convince me for a long time to believe in myself and not waste my talent, and I decided, that if I don't take a chance now and don't believe in myself, then there won't be a better time. I love Ferrari, but my therapist has been telling me for too long that I have to put myself first."

"What did Lewis say?" Sebastian asks with a smile. His face is serene, confidence in all smoothed features. Charles is no longer afraid.

"That Niki would be proud of this decision." They share a secret smile. Both know that for Lewis this is one of the highest compliments.

Sebastian gets up from his chair. His body is softer than a few years ago, the sharp thin angles of a young racing deity under a layered coating of oil paint, strokes on each other, every year of his career in different colors hide each other, changing the images of previous canvases. Charles can't wait to turn himself into a painting. Seb hugs him, presses his head to his shoulder, surrounds him with his warmth and the promise of safety. Charles feels protected. Grounded.

Emboldened by the reaction of the man he had considered his idol since he could remember himself.

Sebastian kisses him on the forehead for a long time, he doesn't speak. Charles understands.

Ferrari has been his dream for a long time. Their common dream.

Dreams broke the heart when faced with reality.

They both chose reality.

[adzeisval]

Suffering in Silence

Ed goes to Izzy's grave for a chat. Also on AO3.

Edward loved when the Revenge crew would come and visit at the Inn. It was always nice to see his family and hear what they were getting up to and take a break from just running the inn. It didn’t escape his notice that the crew seemed a bit off, like they were needing to say something but it wasn’t a very pleasant thing. 

“So, what terrible thing do you have to tell us?” Ed asked and several of the crew turned pale or coughed or looked away. Yep something was going on. 

“There’s two things, only one is bad,” Jim said, “Ricky is back.” 

“Fuck,” Ed said. 

“You’re sure?” Stede asked. 

“He fucking shot me, I’m sure,” Jim said. Ed gave a deep sigh. He knew Ricky was likely still alive, he hadn’t heard of him being killed, but for the last two years he hadn’t heard about Ricky at all.

Two years. It hit Ed like a punch in the gut. Tomorrow would be the two year anniversary of Izzy’s death. Ed felt like he might cry.

“Ricky kidnapped Jim to try to get your locations out of them,” Frenchie said, “We were obviously able to rescue Jim but be careful.” 

“Thank you, we’ll keep an eye out,” Stede said. Ed took another deep breath and then let a tear fall and gave a shaky sob. He looked at the crew and fuck there was still something else wasn’t there? 

“Out with it,” he said. 

“We’ve been having a lot of close calls, but it seems like there’s someone watching over us, guiding us. We’re pretty sure it’s Izzy.” 

“How do you know it’s him?” Ed asked. 

“I heard his voice, and he called me twatty, like he used to,” Lucius said. 

“I heard him too. And saw him,” Frenchie said, “In a lightning flash.” 

“I’ve felt his presence,” Jim said. 

“Me too,” Fang said. 

“He’s helping? He doesn’t seem angry? Or hurt,” Ed’s voice cracked. He couldn’t bear to think of Izzy in any pain when that was supposed to be over with. 

“He’s protective most of the time, he was angry when Ricky was around,” Jim said. 

“We think he comes when we need him, even if we don’t know we need him in the moment,” Lucius said. 

Ed had to sit down, his mind was reeling. Izzy was still around, his spirit at least, but he hadn’t felt it. Well he hadn’t really needed any protection had he? But he longed to see Izzy or feel him or something. 

“Is Izzy here now?” 

“No, I don’t think so,” Jim said. 

“I…I need to be alone for a while, I’m going out to Izzy’s grave,” Ed said. He didn’t wait for anyone to say anything, he just left Stede to deal with the crew and dinner and everything. 

Ed sat down by Izzy’s grave, “Are you here Izzy?” He didn’t know if he would get an answer but he could wait for one. 

*****

Izzy came back into the world and heard crying. He recognized the sound immediately. Ed was crying, knees tucked up against his chest. They were sitting by Izzy’s grave. Izzy looked around for any sign of why Ed might be crying. 

The Revenge was moored nearby, it looked like the crew was inside the inn for another dinner. It didn’t look like anything was wrong. 

“Ah. They told you didn’t they, that they’ve seen me,” Izzy said. Izzy sat close to Ed and put his arm around him. Ed jerked away and gasped. 

“Who’s there?” 

“Who do you think you twat?” Izzy said. 

“Izzy? You’re here now aren’t you?” Ed said. Izzy touched Ed again and Ed shivered a little bit.

“I’m here Eddie.” 

Ed sniffled, “I miss you Izzy. You’ve been gone two years as of tomorrow. All those years we were together I never thought about losing you. I’m sorry Izzy. I panicked. I should have told you so much more when you were…in my arms.” 

“Eddie, that was enough. That’s what I wanted. I wanted you to hold me and I wanted to talk to you.” 

“I should have said more. I love you Izzy and I should have said it.” 

“I know Ed, I could feel it,” Izzy said, “I can feel it now.” 

“I should have tried to comfort you more, you were hurting so bad, please, please tell me you’re not in pain anymore.” 

Izzy thought of all the love he had for Edward, and there was a lot of it, and moved himself to sit in the same space as Ed. 

“I’m not in pain Eddie, I’m here to help because I want to.” 

Ed shuddered and Izzy moved away a little. 

“You’re alright,” Ed said. 

“I’m alright.” 

Ed sighed, “I’m glad you’re watching over the crew Izzy. I hope I can see you again someday, maybe when it’s my time to go.” 

“I think that’s how it works,” Izzy said, “But I don’t want that day to come anytime soon. More than anything I want you to be happy.” 

They sat in silence for a good while and then Stede came out from the Inn to come check on Ed. 

“Izzy’s here,” Ed said, “And I think he’s okay. He’s not angry or in pain.” 

“That’s very good. From what the crew said it sounds like he’s here to help,” Stede said. 

“I felt…a lot of love from him. Peace. I…I’ve been worried because of the way he died that he might still be in pain and suffering.” 

“I’m sorry love, please don’t suffer in silence about things like this, you can come to me or come to Izzy,” Stede said. 

“I will,” Ed said, “And I’m okay too Izzy. I get sad sometimes but I’m doing much better.” 

“He is,” Stede agreed, “We’re doing our best to take care of each other.”  

“Wish you could be here mate,” Ed said.

“I am here, in a way,” Izzy said. 

“Do you want to come back in Ed? Izzy can come, of course.” 

“I think I have to go now Eddie,” Izzy said. 

“I have a feeling he’s done for the moment,” Ed said, “See or feel or whatever you soon mate. Love you.” 

“I love you too Eddie,” Izzy said and the world once again faded away.

[nickcarr-scoutstories]

“I once peed on the statue of David,” says the older man riding in my car. And the weirdest thing is, I’m pretty sure he’s telling the truth.

I’ve been driving around with this man for several days now. An artist (painter, photographer, sculptor, etc, etc), he’s also a personal friend of the director, who has asked him to help advise on the overall look of the film I’m scouting for. I’ve been tasked with driving him to visit all the location selects so he can suggest innovative ways to storyboard them.

We’ve had an interesting few days together. After hours of awkward silence initially, we finally found common ground over a shared love of punk music when my phone accidentally started blasting it out of my car’s speakers, and he insisted I play it louder. We further bonded over the fact that I had lived in Italy years ago during college, near where he had gone to art school in the 1960s.

He’s since shared a lot about his life, and it’s become clear that this small, quiet man in my car is actually quite fearless, and has put himself in some incredibly dangerous situations over the years to achieve his art.

I’m reminiscing about my travels through Florence, and I mention I had some trouble when my brother, also an artist, came out to stay with me for a few weeks. For some reason, he was determined to touch every famous sculpture we came across, no matter how many velvet ropes and watchful guards and angry older brothers were there to try and stop him. And so he did, at museum after museum, gallery after gallery. In fact, he even got us kicked out of Michelangelo’s Tomb of Giuliano de’ Medici for touching Night.

“That’s just part of being an artist,” the man in my car says. “It’s important to go through a period when you need to prove you’re above those that came before you. Like a Greek god killing his father.”

“And if you think briefly touching a sculpture that’s been around for hundreds of years is a crime,” he continues, “consider what I did. I once peed on the statue of David.”

Long pause as I wait for the follow-up where he tells me the punchline to what must be a joke. It doesn’t come.

“Are you…serious?” I ask slowly, totally unsure if he’s putting me on or not.

“Oh, very serious,” he says. “It was back in the 60s. Like your brother, I had something to prove over the artists who came before me. So I decided that, as my final project for art school, I was going to pee on the statue of David.”

“What happened?” I ask.

“I treated it like I would any other art project. I was going to do it. It was just a question of when and how.

“So I came up with a ritual that I would repeat each day. I made a bag lunch in the morning. I arrived at the Accademia upon opening, with a small folding chair. And I would sit and stare at the statue all day. I would eat lunch there. I would go to the bathroom there. And I would only leave at the end of the day when the museum closed.

“I did this day after day, week after week. And I studied every facet of the daily operation of the museum.

“I knew the individual guards. I knew their routines. I knew their personalities. When they would take their lunch breaks. When they took bathroom breaks. When they snuck away for a cigarette.

“I knew the maintenance workers. When they’d come to clean, and for how long. There was one in particular who used a wooden ladder, and often left it against the wall. This was key, as the statue is on a base seven feet off the ground.

“I knew the museum staff. When they’d come to work on exhibitions, and when they tended to be off in their offices.

“And I knew the habits of the visitors. When it was mostly tourists, when it was mostly students. When the crowds grew large, and when they were nonexistent.

“I studied this week after week, month after month, until I finally pinpointed exactly the day and time I would have a window where no one was in the gallery.

“And so the day came. I made my lunch. Arrived with my chair. I set up in my usual location. And I stared at David, waiting for the moment to arrive.

“And then it came, and it was like watching a perfectly made clock operate. The last guest stepped out of the room. The guard saw his moment to escape to the bathroom. The ladder was leaning against a wall. I was alone with the statue. And I knew I only had under two minutes.

“I quickly got the ladder and leaned it against the statue. I climbed up to the base. I undid my pants. It was the perfect moment. And then – I couldn’t go.

“I was in a panic. I had worked so hard and so long, and here I was in the moment, and I couldn’t do it.

“’No,’ I told myself. ‘You can do this.’ I relaxed. I focused. And then – the stream came. And I peed all over David.”

“Then what happened?” I ask.

“I quickly pulled up my pants and returned the ladder, just as the guard returned. And I left.”

“Did anyone ever find out?”

“I don’t know. I never went back.”

“Huh,” I say, absolutely perplexed as to how to digest this story. “Well, this many decades later, are you glad you did it?”

A small smile raises in the corner of his lips. “Of course!” he says quietly, as if I’ve just asked the most foolish question in the world.

--

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