#evaporates. nobody can find it. it's gone.

[spkyscry-aa]

What can she say? The shared braincell was lost and neither of them has managed to find it yet--

[chososcamgirl]

(SHE’S) JUST A PHASE CHAPTER FOUR: holy waters

masterlist

“Give it up for Miss Ayesha Erotica, everyone!” Yn announced with infectious enthusiasm over the radio waves.

Miwa, sporting vibrant teal hair and an equally vibrant grin, followed up with theatrical flair, “God, I love emo boy!”

Yn shot her a smirk. “Well, I’m pretty sure that’s a sentiment we can all get behind, right?”

Miwa didn’t miss a beat, her excitement bubbling over as she declared, “No Yn, I really, really love emo boys!”, being sure to enunciate the s at the end.

Yn’s face contorts as a picture of Megumi flashes through her mind.“That makes one of us,” Yn quipped, “but I see your point.”

“Seriously, though,” Miwa said, barely containing her glee, “today is shaping up to be amazing!”

Yn arched an eyebrow skeptically. “Oh? Do tell.”

Miwa’s eyes sparkled with mischief as she revealed, “Because Tridant has graced us with 10 free tickets to their show this Saturday, and we’re giving them away!”

Yn’s face twisted into a mix of dread and disbelief, her jaw nearly hitting the studio floor. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” she muttered into the mic, trying to cover her panic with a forced grin. “Trident? You know I’d rather listen to nails on a chalkboard.”

Miwa’s eyes widened in playful astonishment. “Huh, since when did you become such a critic?”

Yn leaned over and mouthed, “Just roll with it.”

Miwa nodded, her grin widening. “I know, but that’s exactly why this is going to be hilarious. We’re going to make someone’s day—and maybe even get you to enjoy yourself.”

Yn groaned dramatically. “Alright, but if I have to endure this concert, you owe me a full day of Solange on the station.”

Miwa clapped her hands together, her laughter echoing. “Deal! Alright, listeners, if you want a shot at these coveted tickets, call in now and tell us why you’re the ultimate Tridant fan. And don’t forget to shout out how much you adore these emo boys!”

As the phone lines lit up with eager callers, YN slumped back in her chair, torn between dread and reluctant amusement. Despite her best efforts to look disgruntled, she couldn’t help but be drawn in by Miwa’s infectious enthusiasm. And she knew Twitter would have a field day with this one—especially with a certain raven-haired boy likely to make an appearance in the trending topics.

“Megumi, get off your phone! We need to practice otherwise Gojo will be up our asses!” Yuta barked, his voice cutting through the cluttered practice room like a drill sergeant.

The space was strewn with old gear, tangled cables, and random junk, making it look like a tornado had hit a music store. Yuta, already in dad mode, stormed out, his footsteps echoing off the mismatched walls as he went in search of something crucial.

“Yeah, but Toge’s on his phone too,” Megumi shot back, his fingers still scrolling through his screen, barely lifting his gaze.

“Yeah, but nobody gives a fuck about him,” Yuji interjected from the corner of the room, where he was perched on a drum stool, grinning like he’d just won a prize.

“Suck my dick ,” Toge retorted, his white hair bouncing as he turned, looking genuinely miffed.

Megumi rolled his eyes with exaggerated drama, reluctantly shoving his phone into his back pocket. He could feel the buzzing vibrations through his jeans and couldn’t help but smirk, taking a twisted pleasure in the fact that he was managing to irk you.

“Ugh, Megumi, why are you grinning like that? A jumpscare warning would’ve been nice,” Toge commented, half-annoyed, half-amused, from his spot by the amp.

“Go fuck yourself,” Megumi snapped back, his smugness evaporating into a gruff irritation.

Did he really find joy in annoying you? Megumi mused, a hint of doubt creeping in.

“Hey, Megumi, you seem unusually cheerful today,” Yuta announced as he reentered, clutching whatever he’d gone to fetch with an air of importance.

“See? Even Yuta’s noticed,” Toge snarked, his eyes glittering with mischief.

“So what’s up, big guy?” Yuji asked, his grin widening as he strolled over, clearly enjoying the chaos.

“Did you finally get your dick sucked or something?” Toge blurted out, his tone blunt and unapologetic.

“Why would that make me happy?” Megumi shot back, genuinely confused.

“Because everyone can tell when you’re sex-deprived,” Toge replied matter-of-factly, adding with a laugh, “Plus the horny slash hate subtweets you’ve been posting do nothing for your case.”

“I’m not sex-deprived,” Megumi insisted, his face turning a shade of crimson.

“MY BOY!” Yuji cheered, rushing in for a celebratory dap.

“Not like that,” Megumi murmured, his cheeks burning as the room erupted in laughter, the awkwardness of the situation making it clear that maybe he should have kept his phone in his pocket.

“Alright, let’s get down to business. We need to nail this new song for our upcoming gig,” Yuta finally says as the laughter dies down, holding a stack of sheet music with an air of importance.

“Finally!” Yuji cheered, bouncing on his drum stool.

“Yeah, yeah,” Toge muttered, putting his phone away and grabbing the microphone. “Let’s see what this new song’s all about.”

Yuta handed out the lyric sheets and nodded at the band. “This one’s a bit different—more upbeat. I want to hear energy and precision. Let’s start with the intro and build from there.”

extras!

• the band in sjap is called triDANT not triDENT bc the group collectively came up with the name together but toge was the one entrusted (first mistake) who had to write it down for copyright purposes etc paper work ete anyways this man CANNOT spell so that's why it's with an A instead of an E lol

• yes the group definitely clowned him for it but they couldn't change it so it stuck and they ran with it

• toge did go to the gym but he snuck in when yuji went and they definitely blasted him on their social media page and stuck his face on the wall of shame😭

• the tickets sold out COMPLETLY and yn lowkey wanted one for herself…

• definitely did not smile to herself when panda told them he scored her tickets thanks to toge..

• dramatic ass

• megumi has convinced himself he only texts yn to piss herself and nothing more than that

• i aspire to be at his level of delusion

• yn, panda and nobara all went to whole foods and asked if they had any close to expire tomato’s at the back (they did)

• they went home with 2 crates full of the most saggiest wettest tomato’s in existence

• hope u guys enjoyed the week overdue chap :3

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*if i can't tag you please change your tag settings otherwise i will remove you from the list!

[cowboybrunch]

writerblr intro

hi! i'm sav (she/her). i'm a twenty-something poet turned novelist.

i mostly write character-driven stories with unreliable narrators and complex villains. if that sounds like your kind of thing, hop in!

i love tag games (please tag me please please) but it might take me a while to get to them

feel free to say hi! let me know what you're reading! tell me about your WIPs! and my final demand: have a great day!

Poems/Journal Dumps

WIP Intros:

Burden of the Reluctant Death (revising)

“Energy,” he says finally, so quiet that I strain to hear him. “The universe is saturated with it. It’s how I can read your thoughts, how I can travel through shadows. When someone dies, their soul is… recycled. Turned into sparks that Mortae can use for various purposes.” “That’s a comforting thought.” He turns his attention towards me, letting the coin fall. “Is it?” I nod, biting my lip as I try to find the words. “Nobody is ever really gone, then. Just returned, like water evaporating from the ocean and coming back down as raindrops.”

Character Introductions

Tag

Judas Wept (finished)

A prequel to Burden of the Reluctant Death that follows Elias as he tries to balance loyalty, love, and duty.

He does not remember his first thought after he dies, likely something so inane that even white-knuckle sifting through his wretched brain leaves him with nothing but a resounding headache. He does, however, remember his second thought: Christ alive, that sucked, and his third: Why is there a beautiful woman straddling me?

Posted here

Tag

Dust to Dust (first draft in progress)

A murder mystery with necromancy, ghosts, politics, and an absolutely non-sentient skeleton.

The rattling of bones warned her approach. She kept the skeleton with her when she was nervous, and she was nervous more often than not, try as she might to deny it. Nobody else would’ve been able to tell; her anxiety manifested as bursts of irritation, often lashing out at whoever (or whatever) was nearest. Robbie had known her for far too long and was not fooled. Most thought her immature and youthfully rebellious, a phase she’d grow out of— or not. It was of no consequence. She was not the heir, only the younger sister. Her fits did not matter. She also had greater necromantic ability than the crown prince. This did not matter either.

Posted here

Tag

You Were Warned About the Forest

You were warned about the forest. Mama told you that the trees speak when the sun goes down. Mama told you not to speak back, even if they’re calling your name. Especially if they’re calling your name. You’re young though, so when the moon comes out, you think, Mama would tell me not to breathe if she thought the air would tickle my lungs. That’s how you end up here, half-blind and dead tired and not lost.

A twine game! Play it here!

Untitled Vampire Story (first draft in progress)

“You are exactly how he described you.” She reaches into her pocket and pulls out a neatly folded paper, extending it towards me. “The prodigy. Nicolai’s assassin.�� “In the flesh.” I take the paper from her, unfolding it and skimming over the names. Seven, and none that I recognize. “Any special requests? Parting remarks, items you’d like me to leave, messages you’d like me to relay?” She grins, fangs glinting in the dim moonlight. “You’re not one for small talk, are you?” I don’t reply, proving her point. “Start at the top and go down the line. I want them to know you’re coming. I want them afraid. Your dagger in their heart will be enough of a message, don’t you think?”

Tag

[lorei-writes]

HC: Beast - Chevalier, Yves

x Reader Fantasy AU ~1.6k words

Content Warnings: blood mention, food mention

Inherited curse, something he has done nothing to earn, but was much rather born into along his riches and regal fate. A headache passed from father to son, a secret kept from even their mothers… A reality of being a beast in both name and flesh, although the latter occurs only under specific set of circumstances. The crests are more than just pretty decorations.

Chevalier

Few know just how accurate the Bloody Tiger moniker truly is.

Chevalier is a beast contained – he cannot simply leave the palace grounds unless he is to shed his humanity and lose his reason on behalf of claws.

His is the curse of carnage, of dying his white coat crimson, indelible ferrous taste tainting any of his meals. Ally or foe, brother or stranger, when in form of the tiger, he bares his fangs at any person… Almost any person.

Not you. You are the sole exception.

Chevalier does not leave the palace, not unprepared. He cannot walk the ground outside its bounds – there was not a word of riding, of carriages and such… But to wait until his horse is ready would be a waste of time. And he cannot afford it.

Things don’t surprise him often, and he isn’t surprised now either, at least not by the black tiger’s ploy. A battle of curses, he could call it. It’d be rational to simply let you go, to trust that you can return safely on your own… To accept his weakness, to admit to it…

But that he cannot do.

Chevalier strides towards the palace gates, the scarf you’ve gifted to him wrapped loosely around his neck, even though the night is much too warm for this.

Chevalier has always wondered what is so different about the dirt outside the palace grounds. Is it its constitution? Some sort of charm being buried underground? An ancient spell from the times of the old empire? Tonight, however, it becomes irrelevant. He rids himself of such thoughts. Chevalier clears his mind, one last step separating him from willingly activating his curse… And he takes it, with absolute confidence.

To become a beast is never pleasant. Chevalier falls to his knees as his joints reorganise themselves, the power of the curse forcing him to bow down and grovel, he the sinner and the act his penance, the admission to his guilt. It is as if he merely returned to what he’s always been. His clothing rips as his body expands.

Chevalier raises eventually, albeit changed. Monumental paws trample over the ruined fabric, only the scarf from you remaining in its place. He breaks into a run, black stripes striking fear into the hearts of any passers-by.

It is hard to control himself in this state – or to be more accurate, had it not been for your gift, Chevalier would have lost his reason. It is just your affection, your lingering scent, that enables him to chase after you, each breath as precious as a crumb of bread during famine.

Chevalier is as if dazed; he hates becoming a tiger, hates falling in and out of consciousness while his body is free to do as it wishes… He hates being fed mere echoes of the reality. Beast twice caged, he struggles against his prison, the scarf around his powerful neck a collar. This time, one he has chosen for himself.

It isn’t long before he finds you.

Rope binds you to a tree. How undignified you are, in your soil-stained skirts and with fear in your eyes. There is nobody around you, but… you wouldn’t just be left there on your own. You exchange a look, and some of your fright eases. You shut your lids, as ordered.

However, you cannot cover your ears.

Shouts. Gunshots. Screams.

You cannot stop your breathing, and in his breath you are enveloped. Viscous sweetness of blood is inhaled into your lungs, adrenaline evaporating in your veins, raising to your very head, and — And his fangs cut through your restraint. Chevalier lays down, his massive head nudging your side. Your hands tremble, but you run your fingers through his fur. The scarf is gone. He must have lost it, you realise.

“I’ll make you another one… I promise.”

The night ends well… However, it is also the night you learn that clothes are not cursed and most definitely do not return on their own once the princes become human again.

“C-couldn’t you have packed some spare clothes? Hidden them somewhere?!” you choke down your shout as you sneak – or much rather, you sneak and he walks – through the palace.

“To what effect? They’d be stolen by dogs.”

“How can you be so sure?!”

“Hmph.” Chevalier smirks. “Another curse. Pester Number One about it if it so interests you.”

Yves

Yves’ curse is that of broken decorum.

While his brothers are eagles, lions, wolves, foxes or other feared beasts, Yves is… a house cat. A particularly beautiful one, at that, with long white coat and bluer than blue eyes.

That, however, is a problem in and of itself. Due to his appearance, not a soul would confuse him with any of the palace cats. At the same time, it’d be a waste to chase him away… But for a servant to pass him onto their relatives? That is not unlikely at all. In fact, that is the very fate Yves has only narrowly avoided several times already.

Yves has never told you how to return him to his human form, even despise promising to multiple times.

And now? It is too late. It may be hard to talk with feline voice box.

You sit cross-legged on top of your bed, a white cat staring at you intently. His tail swishes from side to side, although his ears are perked. He tilts his head and blinks at you oh so slowly… And perhaps your heart would melt on any other day, but not today.

“Yves… How do I help you?”

It is not easy to convey his meaning. However, with a bit of patience, you at the very least understand you have to follow him – so you do, first to the wardrobe to retrieve a small pouch, and then to the corridor… Where you promptly pick him up.

An odd parrot of sorts, Yves perches on your shoulder. His tail brushes against you cheek whenever you intend to take a wrong turn and eventually, you arrive at the kitchen.

The old chef turns his eyes towards you, his eyebrows raising nearly past the thin line of the last hair still crowning his head. The breakfast is almost ready, however, so he does not question you, at least not verbally. The dishes are carried out at a hurricane speed, a hailstorm of suspicious glances raining on your every step.

A hand falls over yours the moment you attempt to set Yves down on the counter.

“No, my lady, I must object. Royalty dines on dishes prepared in this kitchen… Our heads may fly if the word spreads that we let animals roam in here.”

You are kicked out of the kitchen, Yves in tow. He nearly hisses at the cook who dares try to pick him up by his neck.

Swish, goes his tail! Swoosh, goes his tail! Yves begins to groom his coat… to then freeze mid-lick, utterly mortified of the instinct possessing him.

“What now?” you ask. Yves, however, seems to be occupied with matters of greater importance, a beam of light creeping up the wall. He dashes after it, claws extended and ears deaf to the laughter echoing through the corridor.

“Could it be that my little brother has forgotten to perform his duty? And I bet he’s also forgotten to tell you how to undo the curse?” An enigmatic smile emerges on Clavis’ face.

“Oh, just tell me how to turn him back, you fiend.”

“Why, of course. Have him knead some dough and bake it into cookies. That shall do the trick.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“He's a cat, bunny. If there’s one thing cats and our Eevie have in common, it is kneading the dough.”

You do not believe a single word of Clavis’, but what choice do you have? It must be said, though, he does step into the kitchen with you, thus purging it off any problematic staff.

The first step is to unravel the little pouch you’ve carried along. In it, you find a strange apron and a set of oddly shaped rubbler… gloves? Yves meows at the sight. He sits in front of them, rather expectantly, his eyes travelling from the items to you.

And you understand.

You have to help him dress up.

Yves the cat kneads the dough. However, you, the human, are the only one with opposable thumbs. So you roll the dough out for him and once he’s cut it (oh, what dexterous paws!) you transfer the cookies to the baking tray.

Hypnotised, Yves sits in front of the oven, his pupils devouring nearly the entirety of his eyes. He wraps himself in his tail… To then franticly claw at his apron. As panic-stricken as a cat can be, he turns towards you. You undo the ties at his back at the last moment.

There, in the kitchen of the royal palace of Rhodolite, stands Yves Kloss. The fifth Prince.

With only the cat apron to cover his front.

“C-Could you find me some actual apron?!” Bluer than blue eyes and redder than red face, he stares at you. “A-And they’re done baking! Now, hurry! Hurry!”

You needn’t have worried in the end. Clavis has occupied all the servants in the entire wing for the both of you to sneak to Yves’ room unnoticed.

You've seen a typo? Let me know!

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[lokisprettygirl]

Under his influence (Post Avengers! Loki x female reader)

Read chapter 25 here/ Series Masterlist

Chapter 26

Summary : You do whatever you can to get back to your Loki.

Warning: 18+, HUGE Canon divergence(Just me making shit up), masturbation, mention of stalking, mention of psychological torture, angst, insecurities, ptsd, self deprecating behaviour, panic attack, soft precious bean loki,

He didn't know at what point the world had darkened around him but he knew he had lost you, as the Avengers brought him back to the tower after his public breakdown, he was shoved in a cell again. He didn't fight it this time, or made a joke out of the situation or attempted to manipulate anyone, he felt tired of the constant turbulence he had to suffer through.

"I have to leave for Asgard and be answerable to our father of this situation here, in the meantime don't do anything to make this worse," he heard Thor's voice and chuckled.

"Define worse" Thor sighed and turned around to leave, Loki had just started to improve his relationship with his brother only for it to get ruined again. As Thor left he sat down on the floor and closed his eyes, he remembered kissing you one more time, he felt a shift and all of a sudden he was back at the tower, right where he was eight months ago.

You must not remember him, Strange said there was barely any chance that any of you would remember this, but of course he did, he was cursed to live with the memories of you and he was the one who had to suffer losing you again. He just wanted to go see you once, even though Strange asked you two to not say anything he knew he just had to see you once, there would be no repercussions right? This was the correct timeline and he was the master of his own destiny here, he wasn't an anomaly any longer, he wasn't someone who wasn't supposed to exist.

But it hurt so much because all he wanted to do was get back to your apartment and hold you in his arms. Why did he agree to this? Why did he choose to be so noble this time? Perhaps it was you that had changed him into this person because the Loki that had fell off that bifrost, he never would have sacrificed his own happiness for anyone else, you made him get back to his roots, made him kind and gentle again, he was blessed to have find you the way he did but now he had no clue what was going to happen.

You were pacing around in your room, you missed him alot and to know that he remembered you was calming at first but then you worried about him, he didn't know that you remembered him. You laid down on the bed and you noticed how his smell was no longer lingering in your bed sheet or your pillow, you quickly got up and opened the closet but you had nothing in there that belonged to him, the gifts he had given you were gone, his essence had evaporated and all you had was the faint memories of the time that never existed, memories of the events that never should have happened in the first place.

What were you supposed to do? Strange said to not say anything but if you both remembered your lives then you had to do something about it right? You can't just sit here and stew in this heartbreaking ordeal. You can't let him go now and wait years for him to return to you. What if he never does? What if he goes back to Asgard and marries that princess? Several fears were hounding your entire being, you couldn't even go talk to Strange because he wasn't even the sorcerer supreme yet.

You had to do something and you had to do it now.

You dialed a number on your phone and took a deep breath,

"Hi ummm can I get a ticket for the nearest Nyc flight?" You asked nervously and there was a red eye leaving for the city so you packed a little something and quickly made your way to the airport.

As you were locking your apartment you did bump into Mrs Geller and she asked you where you were going so you lied to her. She had no recollection of the previous timeline, nobody did, except you two.

During the flight you tried to sleep but it was difficult to do so. More so because you knew he must be up there and that he was restless. Now that you were thinking about that life you were living in the past few months it did feel surreal in every way, there's no way a god just landed in your apartment like that but the truth was that it still happened, it didn't exist now but it was real for you both..

Once you reached Manhattan you saw the destruction the war had caused, there was rubble everywhere and people in general seemed scared to come out of their houses. You kind of understood now why Stephen hated Loki but you knew why Loki did what he did.

You found a cheap hotel to stay the night because you had no idea what to do. You just can't go to Avengers tower right? Or maybe you could.

The next morning Loki witnessed the Avengers hoarding outside his cell, Clint was sending him death glares and the rest of them were just looking at him like he was an animal at the zoo, he had managed to gain their trust only to lose it all over again.

"Where is Thor?" Loki asked them

"He will return soon and take you back to Asgard, now what did you mean when you said you remembered?"

Loki raised his brow as Tony questioned him but he didn't respond, he wasn't supposed to say anything to them but maybe he can warn them about Thanos.

He was in the middle of the discussion that he despised as much as he did the last time when a man entered the area.

"Captain Rogers, a woman is insisting on meeting you" Everyone turned their attention towards the man, tony had a smirk on his face at the mention of a woman wanting to meet the now famous Avenger Captain America.

"What woman?" Steve asked, Loki stood up and walked closer to the glass door of his cell at the weird turn of events,

"Some y/n y/l/n from the state of Minnesota" his eyes teared up as he heard the name. Did you come for him? Was this some other woman? It must be you right? That would mean that you remembered him. His heart started to thump loudly as he realized that you both remembered each other.

"I don't know anyone with that name" Steve scoffed,

"Must be a fan, we are famous now" Natasha chuckled and Bruce hummed in response.

"You can leave Carl, we are having a meeting " She told the informer and he was about to leave but he had something else to add.

"Captain Rogers, she wanted me to tell you that your friend James Buchanan Barnes or Bucky was alive and staying in Minneapolis at the moment"

A look of surprise graced his features and took a step back at the mention of the name of his former friend, the other avengers looked at him curiously, they didn't really know anything about Bucky.

"Get her in the interrogation room stat"

Steve ordered so the informer turned around and left. As Steve stormed out, the rest of them quickly followed him. Loki was extremely worried about you, he remembered you telling him that James was the one who had hit you with his vehicle so maybe he was in Minneapolis or even if he wasn't he would be there because Strange has clearly said that you had gotten into an accident after the meeting so the accident was supposed to happen in this timeline as well.

You looked around, it seemed like a prison interrogation room that you had seen in movies only, you had never been to this part of the tower before. As Steve walked in you took a deep breath.

"Who are you and what do you know about Bucky?"

Okay maybe you should have been prepared for this before you walked in with a half lie like that.

"My name is y/n, I'm from Minneapolis Minnesota, I don't know anything about your friend, but I have seen this guy around in my city who I think is your deceased friend James Barnes" Steve banged his fist on the table and you flinched.

"That is not possible, he's dead" you gulped as he said that.

"Is he though? Like I said I don't know much as I have seen him a bunch of times on his bike and on the grocery store ..but he has a metallic bionic arm, i remember that because it kind of took me by surprise" Steve looked at you curiously as you said that.

If you fall for me I'm not easy to please

I might tear you apart

Told you from the start, baby from the start

You looked around as you heard the song and he was doing the same thing. You cleared your throat and pointed towards his pocket so he hurriedly tapped all over his body and realized that it was the cellphone thing that was invented a long time ago, Clint had just given it to him this morning and he had no idea how it worked yet.

I'm only gonna break break your break break your heart, I'm only gonna break break your break break your heart

You bit on your cheeks to prevent yourself from smiling or laughing at the situation.

"I don't know how..uhh.. Clint must have–"

"No issue" you mumbled quickly to save him from the embarassement but he was mortified so he turned around and left the room to pick up the call.

You were finally able to breathe when he was out of sight. Where was Loki? There's no way you'd be able to find him in this huge tower but you had come this far and you weren't going to leave without seeing him once. You had to come up with something.

Loki was worried sick about you, what were you doing? What if these assholes in suits would see you as a threat and try to hurt you? Next time those Avengers bolted inside the prison area Thor was with them as well.

"What is this I am hearing about Thanos?" Thor asked him so Loki sighed and told him everything. Thor had a sudden change of heart the same as the last time when he had heard about the torture his brother has been through. Though the Avengers didn't trust him or his words, Thor insisted that his brother won't remain chained up like an animal this way after suffering so much.

Odin was away on a political endeavor so Thor had informed Loki that he'll be taken to Asgard when Odin will return and until then he'll remain in the tower.

He was thrown into a room which was the same as his room the last time but it somehow seemed different. He couldn't help but wonder if you were still here in the tower so he quickly walked towards the telephone and called on your number but your phone was unreachable.

.....

Steve came back to grill you further, you noticed he didn't have the phone in his pocket anymore but he had your passport in his hands instead, your phone was confiscated by the security as well.

"Y/n, Y/l/n, 29, Minnesota"

"Actually I'm 30"

He raised his brow as you said that and that's when you realized that you weren't thirty yet. Wow it felt good to be 29 again "I'll be thirty soon"

"Did you come all the way here just to tell me about James? " He asked you sternly so you shook your head.

"No..I was visiting a friend and just thought that I should tell you..I'm a history buff. I read about him and had seen the pictures of your friend, that's why the striking resemblance was hard to scratch away.. his hair is long now though, it wouldn't hurt to give it a try right? I mean he was your friend. I'm also sorry for what happened today but you guys are heroes, thank you for saving the world today " you smiled as you pulled a lie out of your ass again.

"I hope this is not some cruel joke y/n"

"It's not, just go there and look for a speeding man on a bike"

"Well You are going to stay here until I'm done dealing with this matter" he said to you so you pretended to be shocked, even though deep down that's exactly what you wanted.

Steve asked you to follow him and as you were both walking towards the elevator ,Clint and Thor passed by you two, your eyes teared up as his eyes met with yours but he looked away immediately. He didn't remember you and you knew this was going to hurt but not this much.

As you both stepped inside the elevator you watched him press the button to the fourteenth floor. Did fate want you to find Loki?

"Ummm so what happened to that guy uhh..the guy who attacked?" You asked sheepishly so Steve looked at you.

"It's none of your concern" you made a pout as he said that so he sighed but he didn't say anything.

"I mean I saw that he refused to go back to his realm"

"He's going to be here until the investigation is completed"

"Ohhh" you smiled and you were definitely happy with the prospect.

As you reached the floor Steve took you to a spare room which was the same one Jane had made you stay in when she had invited you for her birthday.

"Umm how long will I be staying here, i have a job you know" you looked at him and tried to appear as annoyed as possible. You were definitely going to lose your job but you didn't care at the moment.

"I'll leave tomorrow and if I don't find him or even a miniscule trace of him anywhere in that city of yours, you're going to be in a lot of trouble young lady"

He left after threatening you, he had no idea that you were doing him a huge favor, saving him alot of time and trouble. You knew your way around the area very well so after an hour you stepped out of your room and made your way to Loki's room, maybe they gave him the same room this time as well. You chuckled internally as you saw that there were two big burly guards outside of his door, as if they'd be able to stop him if he was determined to leave.

You walked towards them and they immediately put their hands forward to stop you.

"You are not permitted to see him" one of the guards said, his name was Mark, the other one was John. That was definitely not weird.

"That's too bad I was hoping to see how he looked in real life" you chuckled nervously and they just glared at you in response, they did seem scary. You heard footsteps approaching behind you so you turned around to look and it was Thor. He stared at you for a moment before he opened his mouth

"Are you lady y/n? the one who brought the news about the captain's friend?"

"Yes I am the lady, your captain has held me hostage so I just wanted to look around " you smiled so he nodded.

"Would you like to meet my insane brother?" He asked you and you were going to tell him that he wasn't insane but you kept your mouth shut, you were coming across suspicious already.

"Yes please, I heard he's not being taken back to Asgard and he's not even in prison, I am wondering why, isn't he a danger to the society?" you put your fingers on your chin as you pretended to think

"Well it is a matter of a universal nature but my brother might not be the bloodthirsty creature that I had feared he had become"

You looked at him and nodded as he said that, he was already starting to believe in Loki, that was a good start. Maybe all Loki needed to do was reveal everything about Thanos but maybe this war was destined to happen the way you were destined to meet him..

You heard Loki's door opening so you quickly diverted your attention towards him, even the guards turned their heads to look at him. Your eyes teared up as you looked at him, he didn't seem okay.

"I heard voices" he mumbled as his eyes met with yours, he seemed so sad you just wanted to hug him and take all his pain away. Even though it's been just a day since you had kissed him last, your life felt meaningless without him, it was different not knowing him at all but losing him again and again after falling for him brought you insurmountable pain and suffering.

"Brother, this is lady y/n, here on a ..uhhh business" Thor introduced you so you put your hand forward, he noticed the saddened look on your face, only he could tell that you had no amount of sleep last night, that makeup wasn't really hiding anything from him. He still couldn't believe that you had risked everything to come for him, his heart felt heavy because he just needed to hold you in his arms and love you until all this pain would fade but it seemed impossible at the moment.

"Have you forgotten your manners brother?" Loki rolled his eyes as Thor said that, he hoped his brother would start to think of you as his sister in this timeline as well because right now he could tell Thor was trying to charm the pretty midgardian lady by his side.

"Apologies Sweet y/n" he grabbed your hand and you felt shivers run down your spine at the mere touch, he brought your hand to his lips to give it a chaste kiss before he stepped back again.

"Get yourself to be more presentable, then we will go have a meal" Thor said so Loki nodded, he couldn't take his off you and neither could you.

"Lady y/n would you like to join us?" Thor asked you so you turned your attention towards him and agreed.

"Well I'll see you later Mister Loki" you mumbled softly and you noticed the corner of his mouth curving into a small smile "You should wash your hair, you look like a pine tree"

And then he smiled, the kind of smile that always made your heart skip a beat.

"I will do my very best lady y/n, i promise i won't disappoint you"

Thor looked at both of you and his brows scrunched in confusion so you turned around and left before he'd become more suspicious.

....

As Loki stood under the cold shower, the memory of the first time you both had showered here together came to the surface, he needed you badly, every inch of him craved you, maybe it was the situation that was making him feel so needier than usual, maybe it was the way you had traveled all that distance for him had swelled his heart, from not wanting to come here at all to facing these people all alone, you had come so far for him, he knew how anxious you must have been but you still took the risk, you saved him the last time and you were doing it again.

All he wanted in the moment was to get down on his knees for you and follow every command of yours, he wanted to hold you in his arms and never let you go again, he would have killed for you he knew and that's exactly why you both were thrown into this situation again. He would destroy everything and everyone to keep you by his side and that's why he had to let go of that possibility.

A lucky stroke of luck somehow made you both remember and he was still amazed by that, he placed one of his arms on the wall in front of him while he stroked his cock slowly with the other one. He needed a release, mentally and emotionally he had moved on from this day but physically his body was still suffering from the aftermath of the war.

The way you had pleased him that night was haunting him now more than ever, he felt exhausted and overwhelmed, the only person who could calm him down was just mere steps away from him but he couldn't get her. A moan escaped his throat as he thrusted into his own fist, he wished you were there instead. The orgasm washed over him swiftly and he took a deep breath, he can't lose you again and he had to do something so he won't be taken back to Asgard.

After showering he had changed into an Asgardian comfort wear, when he opened his door Thor was waiting to take him to get a meal.

As you saw him approaching your heartbeat sped again. His hair was wet and slicked back, he did seem a bit better now but the urge to coddle him was intense, you just wanted to pamper him all night long and tell him that everything will be okay, this was meant to be right? Why else would you still have your respective memories if this wasn't how it was supposed to happen?

He sat down on the other side of the table and Thor sat next to him, Thor gave you a polite smile so you returned it. Loki seemed flushed and you definitely saw that look on his face, you could always recognise the way he seemed after he was pleased in every possible way. Just the thought of him touching himself in the privacy of his bathroom burned you with intense heat and desire for him, as glad as you were that he made himself feel relaxed you also felt jealous because you wanted to be the one to please him that way, you wanted to be there to touch him so tenderly and make him emit all those pretty little sounds that he always made.

God you would have died for him you knew, you knew you'd have given up your life for him and that is the main reason why you were here now.

You placed your toes on his shin and he dropped the fork in nervousness, the adorable look on his face made you smile.

"Are you alright brother?" Thor asked him so Loki cleared his throat and hummed.

"You seem ..flushed, are you sure you are fine Mister Loki?" You asked loki so he stared at you intently, you could see the wheels turning in his head.

"Perhaps I do miss the company of a lady that is very precious to me," Loki answered, but his mouth opened slightly and he closed his eyes as you rubbed your toes up and down in a caressing manner.

"Well you should meet Princess Atrishia whenever we will venture for our realm, she told me to give you her regards" Thor said.

You stopped caressing him under the table as you heard that. What if he goes back to Asgard and falls for her again?

Maybe they will get married and maybe that is the reason you never met him until later in your life. Strange or the Other loki, well this Loki if you think about it now, they never said anything about what had happened in this time period. Loki noticed how lost you seemed all of a sudden so he turned to his brother before he spoke,

"I will not be marrying her brother, i assumed she must have moved on after I was thought to be dead for good" Thor sighed as Loki said that.

His words did make you feel better but the next day that princess that you never wanted to meet came for him.

She still had the engagement ring on her finger, she seemed ethereal, one look at her divine self and you wondered why Loki would let all of that go for you? You didn't understand why he fell so deeply for you when he could have had her.

😌😌😌😌😌😌😌😌😌😌😌😌😌

@annoyingsweetsstranger @mcufan72 @nixymarvelkins @stupidthoughtsinwriting @fictive-sl0th @eleniblue @violethaze @anukulee @ladymischief11 @12-pm-510 @wolfsmom1 @whylokiissocute @pics-and-fanfics @daddylokisqueen @olivertwistrabbit @blog-the-lilly @prettylittlepluviophile @vanilla-daydreaming @somewiseguy @yaaamadaa-blog @dragonmurray @elthreetimes @gruftiela @thenotoriouserg @greep215 @yallgotkik @obscureenigmatic @janineb86 @sflame15-blog @nyxlaufeyson @lokidokieokie @purplekitten30 @sunnixart @nikkig496-blog @frozenhuntress67 @qardasngan @rosecentury @lokiswife-dark-fox-queen @hrefna-the-raven @jennyggggrrr

[goodnightmemes]

SHUTTER ISLAND (2010) SENTENCE STARTERS

❛ You will be accorded all the help we can give, but during your stay, you will obey protocol. Is that understood? ❜

❛ You act like insanity is catching. ❜

❛ You are hereby required to surrender your firearms. ❜

❛ Then, personally, I'd have to say, screw their sense of calm. ❜

❛ It's as if she evaporated straight through the walls. ❜

❛ Seems like something you'd notice from time to time. ❜

❛ Sanity's not a choice. You can't just choose to get over it. ❜

❛ It's 11 miles to the nearest land and the water's freezing. ❜

❛ This is a mental institution, for the criminally insane. Usual isn't a big part of our day. ❜

❛ I always heard it was overrun with boozers and drunks. ❜

❛ You have outstanding defense mechanisms. ❜

❛ You misunderstand me. I said you are a man of violence. I'm not accusing you of being a violent man. That's quite different. ❜

❛ Since the schoolyard, you have never walked away from a physical conflict. No, no, not because you enjoy it, but because retreat isn't something you consider an option. ❜

❛ Just who the hell's in charge here, anyway, huh? ❜

❛ Jesus, are you ever sober anymore? ❜

❛ Are you real? ❜

❛ I'm just bones in a box. ❜

❛ Please. I need to hold on to you. Just a little bit longer, please. ❜

❛ You have to let me go. ❜

❛ I thought your investigation was finished. ❜

❛ I have this radical idea that if you treat a patient with respect, listen to him, try and understand, you just might reach him. ❜

❛ Do you know what she was afraid of? You. ❜

❛ I have my dark days. I suppose everybody does. ❜

❛ What I'm doing, it's not exactly by the book. ❜

❛ I don't give a damn about by-the-book. I just wanna know what the hell's going on. ❜

❛ Lot of places to hide a body here. ❜

❛ I've had enough of killing. That's not why I'm here. ❜

❛ A lot of people know about this place, but no one wants to talk. It's like they're scared or something. ❜

❛ How do you believe a crazy guy? ❜

❛ That's the beauty of it, isn't it? Crazy people, they're the perfect subjects. They talk, nobody listens. ❜

❛ Luck doesn't work that way. The world doesn't work that way. ❜

❛ What if while you were looking into them, they were looking into you? ❜

❛ Don't you know how lonely I've been? You're gone. You're dead. I cry every night. How am I supposed to survive? ❜

❛ I buried you. I buried an empty casket. ❜

❛ My [name]'s dead, so who the fuck are you? ❜

❛ You should have saved me. You should have saved all of us. ❜

❛ The clock's ticking, my friend. We're running out of time. ❜

❛ Why didn't you save me? ❜

❛ You need to find him. You need to find him and you kill him dead. ❜

❛ Listen, I don't wanna leave here, all right? I mean, why would anybody want to? ❜

❛ What the fuck's the matter with you guys? Catch them, not kill them! ❜

❛ Stop me, please, before I kill more. ❜

❛ You told me I'd be free of this place. You promised. You lied. ❜

❛ They say I'm theirs now. They say I'll never leave here. ❜

❛ I'll never get out now. I got out once. Not twice, never twice. ❜

❛ This is a game. All of this is for you. ❜

❛ You're a fucking rat in a maze. ❜

❛ I'm gonna find out what the fuck is happening on this island. ❜

❛ Would you mind taking your hand from behind your back, please? I wanna make sure that what you're holding won't hurt me. ❜

❛ That's the genius of it. People tell the world you're crazy, and all your protests to the contrary just confirm what they're saying. ❜

❛ Once you're declared insane, then anything you do is called part of that insanity. ❜

❛ You're smarter than you look. That's probably not a good thing. ❜

❛ The brain controls pain. The brain controls fear, empathy, sleep, hunger, anger. Everything. What if you could control it? ❜

❛ You can never take away all a man's memories. Never. ❜

❛ Seen any walking nightmares lately? ❜

❛ You can't stay here. I'm afraid if they come looking for you, they might find me. I'm sorry, but you have to go. ❜

❛ You're as violent as they come. I know this because I'm as violent as they come. ❜

❛ If the constraints of society were lifted, and I was all that stood between you and a meal, you would crack my skull with a rock and eat my meaty parts. Wouldn't you? ❜

❛ If I was to sink my teeth into your eye right now, would you be able to stop me before I blinded you? ❜

❛ You don't have a partner. You came here alone. ❜

❛ You know, I've built something valuable here, and valuable things have a way of being misunderstood in their own time. ❜

❛ I'm trying to do something that people, yourself included, don't understand. And I'm not going to give up without a fight. ❜

❛ Did you know that the word "trauma" comes from the Greek for "wound"? And what is the German word for "dream"? Traum. ❜

❛ Wounds can create monsters, and you...you are wounded. And wouldn't you agree, when you see a monster, you must stop it? ❜

❛ You go there and you'll die. ❜

❛ You blew up my car. I really loved that car. ❜

❛ Tremors are getting pretty bad. How are the hallucinations? ❜

❛ Get out of here. This place is gonna be the end of you. ❜

❛ Your delusions are more severe than I thought. ❜

❛ After everything I've seen here, you really think you're gonna convince me I'm crazy? ❜

❛ You've created a story in which you're not a murderer. You’re a hero. ❜

❛ I wish I could let you just live in your fantasy world. I really do. ❜

❛ I'm sorry. There wasn't any other way. ❜

❛ I trusted you. I risked everything to come in here after you. Everything! ❜

❛ I told you not to come in here. I told you this would be the end of you. ❜

❛ If you ever loved me, please stop talking. ❜

❛ I need to know you've accepted reality. ❜

❛ You tried to help me when no one else would. ❜

❛ Which would be worse, to live as a monster...or to die as a good man? ❜

[herearedragons]

The Warden's New Clothes

As the glow of the healing spell subsides and Wynne removes her hands from the injury, Kyana dares to glance at her side once again. What was a miserable sight mere moments ago is now a perfectly healthy patch of skin, no trace of the burns left on her torso or left arm.

It’s not the first time she wishes Wynne had been there when they climbed the tower of Ishal.

There is, however, a problem remaining. Where skin can be fixed, fabric not so much; the remains of her sleeve are hanging in sorry tatters and the state of the left side of her robe is definitely indecent. Adding insult to injury, the enchantment has evaporated from the garment, the fabric hanging heavier and colder than usual.

“Blast it,” Kyana murmurs - and startles, suddenly remembering that Wynne is still there. Have her manners spoiled so much that she curses at a senior enchanter without a second thought?

To her relief and wonder, Wynne does not express any disapproval, simply nodding:

“We should get you changed. Boys - “ the enchanter steps out of the corner they had retired to so that she could heal Kyana with some privacy - “One of you should go back to the mages’ quarters, see if there are any clothes intact in the wardrobes. We need a new set of robes, as close to Kyana’s size as you can get.”

It’s a strange experience, hearing Wynne give out orders to… yes, to her team; Kyana has to admit to herself that she has come to view them as such. Even Zevran, new as he is to the group. He had sworn his loyalty to her, personally; surely that counts for something?

Speaking of the assassin - it’s his voice that she hears answering Wynne.

“What about this one? There’s barely any blood on it - “

“Maker, ew. Really?”

The second voice is Alistair. At that point, Kyana decides to see what the fuss is about and joins the rest, holding the left side of her robe together with her hand.

The scene which appears before her is self-explanatory. Zevran is pointing at a corpse on the ground. Wynne and Alistair are looking upon it disapprovingly.

The body belongs to the blood mage they just fought. Her clothes are… unusual, definitely not of the Circle, and yet familiar. It takes Kyana a moment to place the image, but then she remembers: the vault. There was definitely a robe of a similar design in there, hanging in a glass case. Was it the same one, or just a similar item? Either way, if she’s right, it’s old, it’s from Tevinter, and it probably bears a powerful enchantment.

Kyana reaches for her magic, just slightly, but enough to confirm one half of her theory: the dead woman’s robe is very enchanted.

She definitely wants it now.

“Zevran is right,” she says. “We don’t have time to search the rooms. This will do.”

With that, she begins to direct her magic further. The force of telekinesis lifts the body up from the ground; Kyana lets it rotate mid-air for a few moments, getting a feel for the object she’s about to manipulate. Then, the same telekinetic force begins undoing buttons, buckles and clips, pulling elements of clothing off of the corpse. 

Part of her is glad that Wynne is watching; she’s been honing her precision telekinesis for a while. Nobody in the camp, not even Morrigan, seemed to appreciate it much - but, surely, the senior enchanter understands the work that has gone into this.

Another part of her wonders whether she’s supposed to be more hesitant to undress a dead body, but it’s not a very useful thought, and she lets it go fairly quickly.

If Kyana had to guess, she would say that the whole process takes less than two minutes; definitely less time than it would require to search the living quarters again.  

The new robe fits tighter than the Circle one, mostly due to panels of some stiff material sewn into it in several places. It's definitely more restricting, though Kyana finds that she doesn't mind that much; it feels almost like wearing armor, or, at least, what she imagines wearing armor feels like.

It is strange, though. She somehow feels more dressed than she ever was before; the Circle robes were so familiar that they were almost a part of her, but this... this is alien, a tangible barrier between her and the rest of the world.

“Well… You know, it is quite pretty,” Alistair says. “It’d be even prettier if I could unsee you taking it off of a corpse.”

“Shall I remind you where your armor came from?” Kyana asks dryly.

“That’s different! The armor’s not touching my skin. Also, I cleaned it before putting it on.”

“I also cleaned it! Who do you think I am?”

Alistair raises an eyebrow.

“Cleaned how?”

“Magic.”

“Well, I hope those spells were effective, because otherwise - that’s pretty gross.”

“If I may, Warden,” Zevran pipes up, “Please do not take this the wrong way, but… may I have your old clothes?”

Alistair gives him a look.

“Is there a right way to take this?”

There seems to be some kind of lewd joke implied - she’s been getting better at noticing those kinds of things - but presently, Kyana doesn’t have time to unpack the exact meaning of it. If Zevran wants the rags, he can have them. 

She uses a small burst of telekinetic force to pick up the robes and toss them to the assassin.

“Many thanks,” he says.

The sound of tearing fabric follows immediately after. It takes her a moment to understand what he’s doing, but when Zevran tears a narrow strip of fabric from the robe and starts wrapping it around his right hand, Kyana finally notices:

“Your gloves are ruined.”

They’re in a similar state to her old robe; the top part is almost entirely burned away. Was he the one to finish off the Rage demon? Likely so, considering the singe marks on his arms and the rest of his armor.

“Unfortunately, yes,” Zevran says. “If you see nice leather gloves on someone here, do let me know.”

He finishes securing the remains of his right glove to his hand and prepares to tear off another strip of fabric.

“…Wait.”

Kyana opens one of the pouches on her belt. There, nestled alongside a few healing potions, is a rolled-up pair of leather gloves.

“Here.” She holds them out. “I bought these a while ago, but didn’t end up wearing them that much. They’re warm, but not that good for spellcasting.”

Zevran stops mid-tear.

“You’re… giving me gloves?”

“Well, I don’t use them. Do you not want them?”

“No, no - I did not mean to sound ungrateful. I’ll take them.”

As he approaches to collect the gloves, something about them seems to catch his attention; Zevran lingers for a moment before finally taking them from her hand.

“These are Dalish, are they not?” he asks.

“Yes. I bought them from a Dalish craftsman.”

Zevran turns the gloves in his hands, runs his thumb along one of the stitches - appreciating the craftsmanship, maybe?

“No one has simply… given me a gift before,” he says finally. “I shall treasure these. Thank you.”

It didn’t occur to her to think of it as a gift, but technically, he’s correct.

It’s just as well. If they’re of a better use to Zevran than to her, he should have them.

“It’s nothing,” Kyana says. “I hope they fit.”

[seadeepywrites]

Small Temptations

Character: Leilatha "Lei" Dymeriscis Words: 784 tw: lying, scheming & manipulation; alcohol

Lei stares into the depths of her drink, trying to remember why it was so important to her to order the cherry wine and not any of the drier flavors she usually prefers. The taste is sweet and sticky on her tongue, bursting bright when she licks her lips. Too intense, nearly overpowering.

“You don’t like it?”

That was why. Lei remembers now, as her head comes up — too fast, too eager. She tries to school her expression, to keep the cool composure that used to come easily to her. It’s harder to maintain it around her party these days. Well, harder to maintain around one party member in particular.

Bless has been drinking much faster than Lei, approaching even Istvaan in pace, and nobody can keep up with Istvaan. She doesn’t stagger as she moves toward the corner of the tavern where Lei is standing, but she is overly deliberate about where she is putting her feet, and her wide stance tells Lei she is struggling to keep her balance. The signs are obvious to anyone that knows her well, and Lei is beginning to count herself among that number.

“It’s very sweet,” Lei says diplomatically, allowing the corners of her mouth to tilt into a small smile. Affection, even fondness — she lets herself show those things, as consolation for the dozen other things crowding inside her chest these days and rattling her equilibrium.

Bless’ face twists in dismay, and though she’s exaggerating for effect, there is a glimmer of real uncertainty in her eyes. “You hate it. You hate the wine.”

Lei returns to examining her glass, unable to look Bless in the face when she gets like this. Tipsy Bless is just so vulnerable, so open. It only takes a few tankards of ale and her inhibitions simply evaporate. All her emotions play out in her expressions like a symphony, quick and exhilarating and very, very obvious.

And when Bless gets to the flirtatious part of the evening, when she leans in and makes her interest clear, Lei always finds herself wondering first if it would be a tactical advantage to say yes. Her second thought, then, is to gauge the probability of consequences — how likely a tryst would be to splinter the party, or the deepening trust that Lei has cultivated so carefully between the two of them. Her third thought, which burns beneath the others like still-smoldering embers, isn’t usually a thought at all.

It has only been Bless’ final burst of panic, predictable as sunrise, that has prevented things from going any further on nights like these.

“I don’t hate it,” Lei says, gently but firmly. She can dissipate this anxiety, at least. “It’s just not the kind of thing I usually drink.”

Bless’ eyes glitter. The lantern-light doesn’t do much to soften their pale, biting green, and her mouth flattens into an unhappy line. But out loud, she says, “Okay. All right.”

Lei takes another sip of her wine, drawing the mouthful slowly across her tongue. She tries to concentrate, to appreciate the subtleties of the flavor beyond the initial flood of saccharine. But Bless has gone still, watching Lei drink, and Lei is finding her scrutiny distracting.

“It’s a lot at first,” Lei admits. “But after a moment…” She runs the tip of her tongue along her upper lip, considering. “There’s more there, I think. It just takes getting used to.”

Near the floor, Bless’ tail twitches once.

Perhaps Lei has drunk too much after all — perhaps that is where the strangely liquid feeling in her bones is coming from, the loosening of her upright posture. She lists sideways a little and props one shoulder up against the wall. Bless takes half a step closer, still staring into her face.

“It’s hard to tell,” Bless says quietly, or what passes for quietly with someone that inebriated. “I don’t know if you… I just never know.”

Lei holds their shared fiction out in front of her, the illusion that this conversation is still about alcohol. She says, with casual diffidence, “Old habits die hard, I suppose. We could only drink wine at the abbey if it was properly watered down, and didn’t taste like anything someone could enjoy.”

“I get it,” Bless says almost instantly, then frowns. Regret gathers in the crease between her eyebrows, but she forges ahead. “Some of the Watchers are like that. We believe that small temptations can lead to larger ones, and some of us…”

She doesn’t finish the sentence, letting the end of the thought trail away into silence. She doesn’t move towards Lei, but she also doesn’t turn away.

Lei harbors the same belief, incidentally, but with very different intentions.

[balkanradfem]

Some of you might remember me talking about the ‘Banished Settlement’; it’s a weird looking place on the outskirts of the city filled with abandoned-looking foliage, that happened to have a complex road system leading nowhere, and had a surprising amount of edible and useful plants. I found out it was a place where 20 years ago, people running away from the war got to live in, in mobile homes that are now all gone. They planted and cultivated a lot of useful plants, and I was very happy to go forage there!

Last time I went to visit the place, my heart stopped. More than half of it got cleared out. I had to get out of there, because I couldn’t handle looking; I was going to check how the rosehips did this year, and find some decorative plants for my kitchen table, but most of it had already gone. They only left the biggest trees, as if maybe they’re turning it into a park, or maybe they were going to build something there. I’m not sure if I’ll be able to make more rosehip jam; all of my rosehips were sourced from there.

I have to go back at least once, to check if I could still propagate the huge rose bush that grew there, I’m sure they couldn’t clear all of it. It was the biggest rose bush I’ve ever seen, and I’d bring home big bouquets every summer.

This is not the first time since I live in the city, for me to witness an incredibly valuable resource to me being cleared out and cut away for convenience. There used to be a patch of grass and sand near my building, with a weird brick tower on it, I loved that thing, even though it was empty and people just threw trash in it. They cleared it out in order to make a bigger parking lot. There was a patch of green and an abandoned house on my way to the main street, and I would look for wild flowers there, two years ago it was cleared out and asphalted to make, yeah, a parking lot.

There was a green patch you could use as a shortcut from my building to the market, you’d walk by the people’s gardens, and then on a nice grassy pasture until you were back on the road. They installed a gate and closed it, and then covered the pasture in rough gravel, so it’s extremely difficult to walk thru. It’s looking as if it’s about to become another parking lot.

It’s scary, how fast the city’s green areas are getting demolished, just to have another patch of asphalt, isn’t it? And nobody seems to consider it a loss. Now they can walk thru that area without getting their shoes dirty. Less bugs. More places to park.

We had an incredibly hot summer this year, and a lot of people’s gardens were barely making it thru the heat. People were giving up on it, as the plants kept giving into the heat one by one, failing to get established as they were busy getting melted in the sun. The plants are used to a different, milder climate, and to deal with constant heat waves is too much even for them.

However, there was one place that I saw react differently. I’ve been to the forest every month this year, and during the heat waves, I noticed the forest was, just the same as always. The soil was covered with thick layer of leaves, preventing the dampness to evaporate. Then there’s the shade of thousands of trees, making sure it isn’t too hot. I could take off my hat and enjoy the air, that was fresh and filled with the wet smell of soil, because the forest was guarding her water so well, even the air was more damp and easy to breathe in. It was only after months and months of heat waves, at the brink of August, that the forest floor was starting to get real dry. And by then, the autumn rains came and brought it right back on track. There was no sun damage in the forest. There was no plants that dried out or struggled. The temperature was pleasant.

The forest managed to keep her own ecosystem healthy and filled with water, shade and life, as if the heat waves weren’t happening at all. The trees were controlling the evaporation of water, and the amount of heat that was coming in, so it was never overwhelmed, never unfit for life. Unlike everywhere else in the city, where there was no trees to guard the soil.

I’m worried we’re making things worse for ourselves, with every green surface we remove from our urban space. Every asphalted surface is now a surface where not only trees can’t grow, but where the heat of the sun will intensify and reflect itself into walls, windows and people, until it becomes unmanageable to survive in. It’s noticeable even when you look at the difference in the temperature between a city and a rural area; the cities are so much hotter, the plants are behaving differently in them. The leaves on the trees dry up sooner in the fall, flowers open faster in the spring. The city created it’s own hotter, unmanageable climate that seems to be made to disable life, and destroy it, as much as possible, during a heat wave.

I wish people would stop exposing more and more of earth to the heat, evaporation and damage. If we want to preserve what little rain we get in the summer, we should make sure everything is shaded by trees, everything covered in leaves, every drop guarded in the soft wet soil, and secured where it will soothe and cool us.

[unfinishedmaps]

“everybody is nobody,” I think. it’s almost midnight, and I think nothing matters. I think a lot of rehashed things that were thought out loud by some million other people before. everybody is nobody, and I’ve seen enough beautiful things through photographs that I won’t miss when I’m gone.

but there are still oceans. and there are still blue whales. there are still lampposts and windows and mugs hung from the ceiling.

sometimes I want to find the busiest street in the city and block out all the sound. I want to stand between all these people who will end up being nobody to me and I want to feel their silence.

I had a dream about standing shoulder to shoulder with people I used to know and crying over something beautiful together. maybe it was the sky? maybe it was the fact that we were absolutely nobody to each other but still managed to stand in the same line, shoulder to shoulder. love evaporates, it precipitates. it comes and then it is gone. did I grieve that it was gone or was I sad because no matter how much I liked to pretended, it had never left at all? if the love doesn’t leave it’s just stuck it’s just trapped it’s like me it’s alone. it’s a blue whale and it sings at a frequency of fifty-two hertz and my ears outgrew that range years ago. but I know it exists. I know it’s there, I know it still breathes inside me, but I hear nothing.

I think that is the worst part of all of this. I live with it without being able to understand. without being able to remember what it felt like. but it remains, with nowhere to go. it travels the ocean endlessly.

what to do with love expired, love forgotten? everyone is nobody and I will not miss these beautiful things when I’m gone, I think. but there is still tuscany and there are still mammatus clouds and there is still murmuration. and they exist in cities full of people and the silence in those people comes out and fill the gaps. it looks me in the eye and asks, “are you sure? are you sure are you sure are you sure you want this, are you sure you want this?” it tells me that just because I can’t hear the music doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist. it tells me I ought to stay in the hospital room for the night, holding love’s hand as it expires. sit by the bedside, wait for the monitor to beep. and do it over and over and over a hundred times in this lifetime and wait for someone to collect the body. and when no one comes, I ought to sit alone with the shells of all the love I used to know. I’ve forgotten how to bury. I’ve forgotten how to move on. I just go on living and watch as everything dead piles up inside.

isn’t that what living is? isn’t that the point? to sit with your losses and count them and lose count and when summer vacation rolls around, start counting again and give up by august? to know that this heavy feeling might be endless. to know that you will continue to see beautiful things through photographs. and that everyone is nobody, goddamn it! but we are programmed to think we are somebody and there is not nearly enough pretending one can do to convince themselves they will not miss seeing beautiful things, like the ocean, like the sky, like blue whales and lampposts and windows and mugs hung from the ceiling. I’ve never seen enough. I’ll never see enough. it has to be endless. everything has to come from something that is infinite.

accept that the loneliest whale exists and you will never hear its music. accept the water cycle, accept that some love will die and cannot be buried. some things are with you from birth to death.

you can stand in the busiest street in a city and understand the silence, but you will find nothing until you can look at all the love piled up inside the people who will end up being nobody to you, and you to them.

silence fills the gaps between love. even dead, you need both.

[bananasugarwarrior]

One of Those Days

(Bad Batch Pirate AU)

Also posted on Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/53673571

—————————————————————————————————

Hunter emerged from below deck sweaty, as usual, but today was hot, like sunburn in 2 hours hot—and that's saying something for a Fett. Yeah… it was one of those days.

The Maurader was small by battleship standards, big enough to do some damage but still manageable by a crew of 5. The Marauder lived up to its name, and that's all the Bad Batch really needed.

Hunter let the Seawind blow his hair majestically for a blink before the winds receded. He glanced up at the Crowsnest unsurprised to find it empty, no matter how much Crosshair likes that thing, nobody wants to be closer to the sun on these days, Hunter thought. He looked back down to see Crosshair under the gangway getting sprayed by seawater periodically, nice spot. Hunter had gone below to raid the water barrel, and rations only to find the barrel nearly empty and all his meilooruns gone. He'd still spent some time looking around but found no trace of the treats.

“What's the crow doin’ out of his nest?” Hunter teased

Crosshair growled softly but remained unmoved.

Hunter smiled slightly running his hand through his gorgeous but sweaty hair and looked around once again. The others were splayed around the deck similarly, Wrecker sittin’ shirtless in the biggest slice of shade around next to a bucket, (probably for a bucket bath), Tech seated closer to the bow (for Seawind?) wearin' only loose pants and his crimson vest he’s so fond of, and Echo placed in between Wrecker and Tech’s spots—but still wearin’ his worn 501st blue coat, he must be dyin’ in that thing.

Hunter brisked over to Echo’s spot.

“Ahoy,” Hunter said

“Ahoy,” Echo responded

He was positively drenched in sweat and his face was a slight red.

“What brings ya here?” Echo asked

“Ya can't be wearin’ that coat in this heat, it's hotter than Mustafar’s seas out here.”

Echo’s face instantly turned from relaxed to cold. Hunter couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at that, what's up with him?

He hasn't taken off the coat since he got it from Rex, but he can't be wearin’ it in this heat.

“Aye,” Echo said cooly

They both paused staring. Echo made no effort to move.

“Echo…” Hunter said “You’ll get heat stroke in that, just take it off and you can have it back later”

Echo’s face then laced with sorrow, and he faced away staring at the deck. Hunter stood there for a moment waiting for him. Why’s this coat got him in such a ruffle?

Echo silently shrugged off the coat, then clenched it in his good hand. He wore a long-sleeve wool shirt underneath, Hunter raised another eyebrow to that.

Echo sighed pulled out a canteen from one of the pockets and reluctantly handed Hunter the coat. He lurched slightly from the weight of it. Wait a minute…

He padded the coat pockets.

“It was you!” Hunter accused

“What?” Echo said defensively

“You took all my meilooruns and hid them in your coat!”

Echo shrugged and smirked slightly.

“Is that why you refused to take it off?”

Echo’s barely playful manner evaporated again, and he scowled and turned to look at the sea.

“Take them, there were only 2 left,” Echo said bitterly “Wrecker ate the rest”

Hunter eyed him carefully, this was strange, even for Echo.

Even so, Hunter turned and walked over to the barracks coat in hand. Which was barely a few meters away, the Maurader was small and saw the others eyeing him from their spots on the boat. Wrecker was the first to approach him.

“Hey Cap’n, What's up with Echo?” Wrecker asked glancing at Echo

Hunter shrugged, “I can't say, it's got somethin’ to do with this coat though”

“Aye,” Wrecker agreed softly “Do you know why he’s wearin’ that thing in this heat?”

“Don't know that either, but it's drenched in sweat” Hunter commented “he also took my last meilooruns, but I don't think that's the reason”

“Maybe we should dunk him in the sea to cool him down”

“Actually that could drown him,” Tech declared walking over “his metal legs would haul him down and though I have developed countermeasures for said disaster, I would not recommend testing it”

“And I don't reckon he’s in the mood for such antics at the moment” Hunter added

The others nodded glancing at Echo.

“Do you reckon a bucket would work?” Wrecker asked mischievously

Hunter chuckled at that, “If you do try such a thing, be sure to do it smartly, or he might actually shoot you this time”

The others smiled at that memory, good times.

“I'm serious lads, you should leave him be”

With that Hunter spun and entered the barracks, a dark and smelly place, but that's a privateer’s life.

Though Crosshair was given the gift of impeccable eyesight, Hunter had been blessed with fabulous hair and the ability to see in the dark so he walked effortlessly to Echo’s hammock.

Since Echo had joined they'd worked to make a space for him, and anyway, Echo wanted to be further away from them for his reasons. Echo’s hammock was in the far corner next to his personal storage chest.

Echo would probably stab Hunter with one of his own knives if Hunter ever tried to learn the 501st pocket space trick—Hunter once saw Echo pull three pistols, a canteen of water, a dictionary, a whole meiloorun, and an entire toolbox out of his coat while the thing looked completely normal. But Hunter’d still like to know what stirred Echo so much. It was a pretty regular coat, worn, with patches and stitches here and there, but other than that, well cared for. He studied it a moment longer flipping open the collar—that’s strange— a single number, 5, was embroidered in it. Maybe it's a worn-out rendition of 501st? Hunter shrugged pulling out one of the meilooruns and tossing the coat onto Echo’s hammock making his way back on deck.

Hunted walks back up the stairs, and immediately gets dunked by a whole bucket of water. He yelps,

“Wrecker!!!” Hunter exclaims

To which Wrecker responded with roaring laughter. Okay, that was actually pretty refreshing, plus now the sweat is out of his hair. But that won't stop him from getting Wrecker back somehow.

[coldresolve]

Moneymakers, pt.ii // Mercy

Previous / AO3 / Masterlist / Next

It’s hard to see in the pre-dawn murkiness, even harder with the fog that has yet to evaporate from tarmac and grass – but the neighborhood seems more rural than he remembers it. Hedges are overgrown, lawns usually well-manicured sprout weeds and autumn wildflowers, and foliage dropped by withering trees is left to rot in all the nice driveways. It’s like Davin said: why bother keeping up appearances when there is nobody around to appear for? Vacation home neighborhoods like these are almost abandoned come October. That’s what makes them so perfect.

The coarse wheel of the lighter has rubbed Renee’s thumb raw by the time a flame flickers steady enough to light his cigarette. He straightens up, stretches his stiff legs, and casts a glance over the hood of the car. Long curtains of black hair are tilted vaguely toward a partially obscured phone screen, thumbs scrolling this way and that, as if searching for something.

“What time is it?” Renee asks the curtains.

“Six thirty,” comes the absentminded reply.

Renee lets out a small groan and deliberately takes the next three drags of his smoke too quickly, feels out the lightheaded rush. He’s not surprised Davin seems so ingulfed by his news feed. It’s only natural to want your finger on the pulse after doing what they just did. Still, Renee finds himself too exhausted to care. The adrenaline is long gone, and all he wants by now is a stiff drink and some shuteye.

In due time.

He strolls along the car, fingers running smooth across the lacquer until he reaches the seam of the rear spoiler. Cracking his neck, he pops the trunk open.

“Huh,” he says. “You really can fit anything in a Clio.”

The guy doesn’t look like he finds the quip particularly amusing. He looks like hell, actually, curled into a space barely wide enough stretch his legs in, and yet somehow, the room he takes up is only half of what he has available. The bottom half his face is still streaked with dried blood, a cut on the bridge of his (only slightly) crooked nose, another shallower one down his cheek, and his dark curls are visibly damp. He’s been crying, evidently. There’s that pinkish sheen to his eyes, an irritated look to the skin over his cheekbones where he no doubt tried to rub away the evidence when he heard the motor stop.

Renee grins down at him. “Shit, you’ve been having a riot back here.”

Conrad visibly cringes.

“Mocking the guy you almost just killed isn’t very chivalrous of you,” Davin remarks as he drags a large duffel bag from the back seat and hoist it over his shoulder with some difficulty.

“Fuck chivalry,” Renee mutters, “he was squirming.”

“The sooner you help me unload the car, the sooner you can cry yourself to sleep about it. Give me the keys.”

Renee snorts. “Yeah, yeah.” He rummages through spare lighters and change in his jacket until he finally feels the zigzag edge of the vacation home’s master key. As Davin snatches it from his hand, he switches it out for a folding knife.

“Spare your back, cut the ties to his feet,” he says, then adds: “At least your cargo can walk.”

Renee frowns, eyeing the huddled figure in his trunk. “And what if he runs?”

“Then catch him,” Davin says, and sends Renee a sweet smile. With that, and a courteous nod at Conrad, he sets up the driveway.

Exactly when Renee predicts it, the motion sensor above the front door triggers a spotlight that illuminates Davin’s figure, from his weighted steps up the porch to his fiddling with the lock, until the door opens, and he enters. One after another, the lights inside flicker on. Entryway, kitchen, hallway, staircase.

It’s only when Davin reaches the upper floor that Renee turns his attention back to Conrad. “You’re not gonna run, are you?”

Quickly shaking his head, Conrad’s eyes dart from the house to Renee to the cigarette held loosely between his fingers.

Now there’s an idea.

“Why are you so quiet, hm? I’d expected you to scream up and down the wall for two days straight, at least.”

Conrad swallows thick. “Wh-,” he starts, then clears his throat. “What am I supposed to say? You wouldn’t let me go, anyway.”

“Maybe it’s just a principle kinda thing.” Renee shrugs, feeling a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I can think of a few things, if you’re drawing a blank.”

He nonchalantly draws nearer, flicking ash off to the side, reveling, in some way, in how the guy shifts back a little further, like a cornered animal desperately trying to appear smaller. As if that would help.

“Please, don’t hurt me… I have a family… I’m too young to die… Stuff like that.”

Carding his fingers through Conrad’s black curls and tightening a fist there, Renee feels a spike of satisfaction when the guy shudders and goes stiff. The tension in his body is kind of interesting to see. The fear in his eyes, the shakiness he has to swallow down if he wants Renee’s grip to remain painless. The way he carefully adjusts and follows along when Renee tilts his head slightly, revealing the side of his neck, where a pulse flutters along under the surface, anything but still. What is that, a deer in headlights? A compromise to not get hurt too badly? Some fucked up kind of acceptance?

It’s control.

He takes what he knows is the last drag of his cigarette, then holds it by the filter, watches the ember smolder in the frigid air. Watches as Conrad’s eyes widen as he finally starts to get it.

“What are you…?” Conrad breathes, all his attention now zeroed in on the cigarette. The weak jerk of his head as he tries to draw away from Renee’s grasp does nothing more than rip a few hairs out, and Conrad winces, breaths picking up. “Hey, don’t,” he says a little louder, voice dropping. “Don’t do that. Don’t do that.”

“See?”

Renee fully intends to place the ember over the wild beat of Conrad’s jugular. Fully intends to draw out a scream in the night, to hear a voice crack in pain, all from something he did, all because he wants to hear it.

But he doesn’t get that far. The front door rattles again, and Davin’s footsteps thud down the driveway pavers, a begrudging reminder to stick to that stupid fucking plan. Renee lets Conrad and the butt of his cigarette both fall as they might.

The cigarette snuffs out in a shallow puddle on the pavement; Conrad thumps his head against the back seat with a gasp, blinking up. “Y-you weren’t really gonna—?”

“Oh, save the big sigh of relief, Connie boy,” Renee grumbles. “I’m still a smoker.”

He can tell when Davin comes back into view by Conrad’s gaze shifting to the side. When it shifts back, Renee sends him the most snitch-on-me-and-you’re-dead look he can muster.

After a short pause, Davin clears his throat. “Renee?”

“Don’t give me that,” Renee sneers. “I wasn’t gonna do anything, I was just fucking around.”

Davin nods slowly. “Right. Well, whenever you’re done fucking around, feel free to haul your half of the load.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

One of Conrad’s pant legs has crept up, giving the tie around his ankle ample opportunity to leave abrasions in his skin: an opportunity, it seems, that the zip tie has taken. Renee purposefully cuts at it with the dull side of the knife on his first pass, just to have the plastic dig taught into raw skin and hear Conrad’s sharp inhale – you take what you can get. Then he snorts, flips the knife, and cuts the ties for real.

Although freed, it’s not until Renee pulls him out of the trunk and to his feet that he dares to makes any movement on his own. He staggers a little, and has barely gained a steady footing before Renee pulls him by the arm to the side passenger door to retrieve his own belongings. One hand still firmly clenched in his captive’s sleeve, Renee slings his backpack over one shoulder, then picks up the grocery bag tucked under the front seat where he left it, shutting the door with his hip.

Davin is waiting for them on the sidewalk, another bulky duffel bag over his shoulder. Renee knows he’s being petty with the scowl he sends him as he shoulders past, Conrad in tow, but he can’t help it. The vaguely condescending puritanism gets on his nerves. He hopes it won’t be A Thing.

The guy walks slowly, one small, awkward step after the other, as if he’s a condemned soul on his way to the chopping block – maybe because he can sense that in a way, that’s exactly what he is. It takes him long enough to get up the driveway, even with Renee’s steady pull on his sleeve, that Renee’s mind starts to drift. Glass bottles clink as the bag dangling from his other hand bumps into the side of his leg. He can’t remember exactly what he bought, only that it would do for the time being – some things to mix, some things he prefers straight. All his, as Davin has made it clear he doesn’t drink.

And then, right at the threshold of the front door, Conrad halts to a complete stop. He looks into the well-lit house with wide eyes, breathing somewhat superficially, and won’t budge an inch from there.

“You know,” Renee says, whatever patient act he had steadily crumbling, “I was thinking we go all the way inside.”

Conrad looks up at him nervously, mouth moving, but no words come out. Then he turns back to Davin. “I just…”

“You’re good, buddy,” Davin mutters, a strained edge to his voice. He adjusts the strap over his shoulder, letting out a heavy sigh. “We’ll just sit down, get you cleaned up, and that’s it, alright? No more surprises for today.”

Conrad turns back to look inside, expression still taught with fear and uncertainty. With stiff movements, he slowly lets Renee pull him forward again.

Once they’re in the kitchen, Davin carefully lets the duffel bag thump to the floor and catches Renee’s gaze, nodding toward the dinner table.

Per the request, Renee maneuvers Conrad in that direction, dragging out a chair with one foot. He releases his convoy with a light pat on the shoulder. “All yours.”

By then, Davin has already found a clean washcloth, and stands at the sink, filling a soup bowl with water. He eyes the grocery bag in Renee’s hands, and upon seeing Renee’s raised eyebrow, dismisses him with a half-shrug. “You do you,” he says under his breath.

“As you wish,” Renee says.

Conrad shifts uncomfortably in his seat, eyes scouring the house, from the kitchen area to the living room and the large windows overlooking the yard, to the hallway where closed doors lead to what for him is the great unknown. God knows what he must be thinking. Whatever it is, it gets interrupted when Davin places the bowl of water on the table next to him.

“I, I just,” he stammers, “I don’t understand why…”

“Listen.” Davin pulls up a chair in front of Conrad, and ducks down to catch his gaze.  “Hey. We’re all pretty tired by now, hm? So all of this - everything that’s happened tonight – let’s let it rest. Sleep off the initial shock, clear our heads a bit.”

“How?” Conrad whispers. “How am I supposed to, to sleep when, when—” He shrugs to draw attention to his tied hands, before his eyes shift hopelessly toward the ceiling, and his lower lip quivers. “You kidnappedme!”

Davin drops the wash cloth in the bowl to let it soak. He sends Renee an uncertain sideways glance before he turns back to Conrad, clearing his throat. “I’ve got, uh… something that might make sleeping a little easier. If you think you might need it, I mean.”

It doesn’t take a genius to read the disbelief in Conrad’s face, much less the half-terrified, half-appalled grimace that follows. “I’m not gonna let you drug me.”

“Just an offer,” Davin quickly says. “Forget I said anything.”

Renee has to turn his back on them both, rustling for the drinks in his grocery bag, struggling to stifle laughter, although he can’t determine at whose expense it’s at. He listens, a little distractedly, to the vague rustling behind him.

“Nothing fishy, yeah?” Davin mutters. “Just plain water.”

The silence that follows is only broken by the wringing out and dripping of the washcloth, the occasional sound of discomfort from Conrad, and Renee’s carefree drink prep. He systematically goes through one cabinet after the other, nearly giving up his search by the time he remembers the drinking glasses are stored in one of the large drawers by the sink. The coke is room temperature, of course, but Renee finds enough ice cubes left over in the freezer to fill half a glass. As he’s pouring rum, deciding he might as well be a little self-indulgent with it, he hears Davin sigh decisively.

“Alright. I’m going to straighten up your nose, yeah?”

Bottle still in hand, Renee pauses to peek over his shoulder.

The water in the bowl has turned a washy pink-orange color, though the cloth discarded in it still sports flakes of red too dry to have been dissolved. Conrad doesn’t look like he feels markedly better. With the blood washed away, the scratch on his cheek is barely visible anymore, but it’s also become apparent that those aren’t just bags under his eyes – they’re bruises.

Taking a deep breath, Conrad gives Davin a small nod, but his eyes are still wary when Davin’s hands approach. He winces when fingers brush over a sore spot, and shuts his eyes tight.

“H-have you done this before?”

“Yes,” Davin murmurs. “Just relax.”

Renee doesn’t see the fingers move, doesn’t hear the bone slide back into place, but suddenly, Conrad lets out a cry and curls forward in the chair, shoulders raised as if he’s trying to shield his face. He lets out a groan between his knees, hands behind him coiled tight into fists, zip ties digging into skin already sporting raw, red lines.

“That’s it,” Davin says softly, right around the same time Renee thinks the same - albeit in a slightly different tone.

When Conrad finally straightens back up, he’s blinking tears from his eyes. "It doesn't feel better," he says, voice unsteady.

Davin shrugs. "Well, I can't exactly un-break it. But now it's back in place, at least."

The loud fizz of the coke bottle makes them both look up.

“I could try and un-break it,” Renee says casually. “Maybe if I hit him hard enough, the bones will fuse back together.”

Some of the color drains from Conrad’s face.

“He’s joking,” Davin assures him. “He’s not gonna hit you.”

Renee has to bite back the urge to follow up with a, Yet. Instead, he just snickers, turning back to his glass. The ice is cold enough to crackle as it’s submerged.

“C’mon,” Davin says. “I’ll show you to your room.”

There’s a pause, and Renee can guess why.

“It’s just a normal guest bedroom. No booby traps, I promise.”

Renee turns around, drink in hand, just in time to see Conrad cast an uncertain look over his shoulder, as if checking to make sure Renee doesn’t follow along. The instant their eyes meet, he quickly turns away again, letting Davin lead him down the hallway.

That the guy is already playing favorites is something Renee can barely wrap his head around. He doesn’t mind it, though. Maybe a bit of animosity between the two of them is in order. A method act, and all that.

By the time Davin comes back, Renee is almost through his drink, and his restlessness has begun to settle. Propping both elbows on the counter, he leans back and sends his partner in crime a smile. “All set, huh? I’d say that went swimmingly.”

Davin snorts, crossing his arms in front of him and propping one shoulder up against the fridge. “You got carried away,” he says.

“Yeah, I beg to differ.”

“Mhm?”

“Mhm. If anything, I’d say you’re the one who’s being too merciful.”

“How am I being merciful?”

“You’re leaving him in the dark, aren’t you? Going all nurse on him, seemed real keen on sparing him that sleepless night.”

“I want his—”

“His genuine reaction, yeah, yeah.” Renee swirls the nearly empty glass between his fingers, as one would a glass of wine, and watches his drink quickly trail down the sides. “Yeah, you say that," he says, squinting up at Davin in mock suspicion, "but you can’t fool me, I know what you're hiding. Buried deep down in that dark soul of yours, there’s a soft, harmless old man waiting for his moment to shine. A real pigeon feeder type.”

Davin chuckles, shaking his head a little. “You see right through me,” he mutters. “Fine, we’ll call it mercy, then. But you still didn’t show enough of it.”

“Oh, please.” Renee downs the last of his drink and dumps the remaining ice in the sink. The alcohol isn’t enough to make him tipsy, but it has eased some of his usual restlessness for sure. He settles back against the countertop, mirroring Renee’s closed stance, right down to the solemn expression on his face. “You and I both know,” he says slowly, “that showing him mercy now won’t make him feel any better, say, this time tomorrow.”

Outside the windows of the dining area, the sun has begun to rise for good, bathing the yard in warm light, from the terrace, past decaying flower beds, all the way down to the pine grove in the far end of the property

“No,” Davin says quietly. “I suppose it won’t.”

Previous / Masterlist / Next

[sapphire-heart-tippy]

YOOOO TIPPY GIVING VANS A WILL TO LIVE SURPASSING EVEN DIO'S POWER AND INFLUENCE I CAN'T-- 💙💜😭

And also that nice touch of the whole "body rejection" thing Dio had in canon but with the added bit of Jonathan also still being a living head. And Jonathan having a grudge and not willing Dio to fully take over his body. And Dio desperate to finally make sure the body becomes his at last with Jonathan unable to take it back.

I'm assuming in this "Dark Headverse" AU Jonathan and Dio's relationship would be a lot less friendly? He probably wouldn't grant him the gift of having his head friends back, probably wouldn't let him out of his jar maybe keeping him in a sealed container as a trophy, perhaps if you're feeling a little more mean and angsty he doesn't even grant Jonathan the ability to speak so all he can do is silently watch from inside the jar while Dio uses his body.

And assuming this scenario goes as it does with canon, would the Joestars find Jonathan's head after Dio's defeat? Or would Jonathan also die as well once Dio, with his body, is defeated?

This is actually branching off of my regular Sapphire Heartverse! Which is the main au 💪 Jonathan's Head actually plays a major role near the end of the story (which I need to actually write again 😭) The original fanfic is here

Their relationship is a little less friendly, you're right 😭 And he's the only head in the main au. Jonathan is normally picked up and carried by the other agents (mostly Vanilla), but he can bounce on his own.

Agh!! That would be so sad 😢 poor Jonny... Luckily he can speak, and he lives forever with Dio (both of them getting on each other's nerves pretty much 🤣)

AS FOR FOR LAST QUESTION... MAJOR SPOILERS UNDER THE CUT:

Okay so... My fanfic will have a good ending and a bad ending (the good ending is also the true ending!)

To answer your question... Unfortunately, Jonathan is immortal when hydrated with the magic elixir. In the bad ending, when everyone is defeated by the Joestars (yes including Vanilla and Tippy), Jonathan is left stuck in the fridge with no way to get out. After days go by, he realizes that nobody's coming to get him and everyone is gone. He doesn't want to wait for the elixir to evaporate... So he spills the jar himself in the fridge 💔

But in the good ending, Jonathan and Dio have to finally make peace with each other. Jonathan has to release his hidden grudge, and Dio has to accept. Then the others use a reattachment spell from one of the books Dio uses, to place Jonathan's head back onto his body. This reduces Dio to a head for a short time, until they find a healing spell that can grow back any limb. Tippy, Vanilla, Avdol, and Polnareff argue back and forth on what consists of a "limb". They try it out and what do you know? Dio gets his old body back.

This is all a work in progress though!!

[jinx-blackout-84]

AGH I JUST SAW THE ASK GAME THINGY. HI JINX I KNOW I’M LIKE 937475969587473747 YEARS LATE BUT IF YOU STILL WANNA DO IT THEN 💌

OH AND ALSO HOW ARE YOU DOING TODAY??? :DDD

HI.

Ok so.

You are one of the first mutuals I ever had and also just genuinely one of the kindest people I have ever interacted with. You have a very mysterious aura about you, and I think you are so so so so so cool. I LOVE your writing and reread your fics like once a week, and could probably quote nebulae at this point. I really like reading your posts you make yourself because sometimes they'll be like "aha it is I, the soup man," with a picture of a glass of mud-water and moss attatched, and sometimes it will be the most poetic, earth shattering, worldview changing, beautiful writing. I love your reblogs, and I love hearing about your fic ideas and listening to you scream about famous writers leaving kudos on your fics.

Ok now imma be poetic for a second.

There's something about you that is so elegant and undiscernable, not quite uncanny, not quite art. It's like standing on the edge of a forest, right at the line where the short-even moved grass becomes a knee-high tangle of weeds and vines, looking into the trees. Fog is thick and silvery, making anything more than 7 feet ahead of you nearly opaque. There is a spiderweb in the corner of your vision, glittering with raindrops, and somehow it's more beautiful than any diamond you could buy. And you see it. It's a deer, with fur so light you would think it was part of the fog. Your eyes must have flicked over it as you scanned the trees in front of you, and it looks directly into your face, though you're not sure how it finds it, with eyes a milky white. It stares at you for a moment, and you almost hear as if you can feel it trying to tell you something. You blink, and it is gone, almost as if it evaporated back into mist. The fog is thicker now, cold on your face as moonlight kisses the tip of your nose.

You go back inside, and you feel as if you know something that you didn't before.

It's something that makes me feel like you're hidden in a long-forgotten church that is full of cobwebs and dust, pews left to rot as vines cover the cushions, hidden in a stained glass window, smiling down at an altar that nobody has visited for what may have been a lifetime.

[vitusxaydin]

Three Secrets (Vitus Aydin, c. 2010s)

A quick short story, written from Vitus's POV. A collection of moments from when he was living in the city in his twenties.

(Warning: this piece is dark and contains mentions of and metaphors related to death, addiction, overdoses, suicidal ideation, dissociation, and familial trauma.)

Three secrets. Boil me down, leave me to simmer, let the excess of my life evaporate like love leaving first thing in the morning. Listen hard, then, and you’ll hear them:

#1: Ribcages hold wild animals. I’m afraid to touch mine.

I bought a bottle of mama’s perfume three months after she kicked me out. I should’ve been saving my money. I should’ve been finding a second job. I bought perfume instead.

It sits on my nightstand. I’ve never used it on myself. There’s plenty left, but I’ll always be afraid to open it. Each time I do, I’m convinced whatever little bits escape will have left the bottle permanently. I’m on a clock, and it ticks loudest when I open that little bottle. When I close my eyes and remember the way her collarbones used to smell whenever she hugged me. Like rosewater and violets, a field of flowers for me to drown in.

I scraped together some cash and bought it in a panic after my duffle bag stopped smelling of her. I’d been rummaging around in it one night, searching for a clean pair of socks, when I realized I couldn’t smell a thing. Not a goddamned thing.

I sit, curled up on my side in a bed that doesn’t belong to me, and I stare at the perfume each night until I fall asleep. Luca’s letting me crash here until his roommate gets back from visiting family overseas. I’ve never met his roommate, but I have questions for him, whenever he shows. I want to ask his name—Luca’s told me already, but I want to hear the way he says it, in his own voice. I want to know where he’s been. I want to ask if his family’s doing well, or if his grandpa is as sick as Luca says. I want to tell him I’m sorry. I want to tell him to go fuck himself. But really, I want to tell him I’m scared I won’t find another place to live after this. I want to ask him to look in my duffle bag and tell me if he can smell violets, or if she’s really gone forever. I want to ask to trade places. I want to scream at him, this total stranger, just to see what he’ll do.

I want, I want, I want.

I turn over in my secondhand bed, trying to breathe.

--

#2: Anhedonia is a symptom, not the cause. I was never taught how to treat causes.

Noor stands in the kitchen, reading off the reasons why she’s leaving me. She’s written them down, and her hands shake while she holds the half-crumpled notebook paper and speaks. I bought her that notebook for Eid al-Fitr, because she’s always liked lists. She’s filled it with love notes. She’s made lists of the shit I say that makes her laugh hardest; lists of each place we’ve gone on a date together; lists of her favorite moments with me, like those moments we steal in grocery stores and on park benches at midnight and in the backseat of her eama’s car. 

This list is one of those love notes, even if it’s ripping her apart as she reads it. I suspect her tremor has nothing to do with fear.

“You’re never home anymore,” she says. “Even when you are here, you still aren’t. I can’t be the only person in this relationship, Vitus. Where do you go all the time? Where do you go?”

These, and other questions, but I don’t catch all of them. I’m studying her face, those hard edges I fell for almost eight months ago. She’s the love of my life. Just like all the others were before her.

Eight whole months. It’s the longest anyone’s stuck around in years, and now I’m watching us blow up in slow motion like a mushroom cloud I’ve spotted in the distance. Nobody else around me has seen it yet. They don’t know we’re about to die—not the parched house plants, or the half-empty bottle of Jack on the table, or the watch on my wrist, the one my baba gave me for my twenty-first birthday that ran out of batteries years back. I sit, and watch, and wait for a tidal wave of radiation to burn through me, right down to the bone. I hope it hurts. I need it to start hurting soon, or I’ll go insane.

“Are you even fucking listening?”

Yes.

Her shampoo and conditioner are on the floor of my shower. She can’t use mine, because her hair is thicker and coils harder. I bought her another bottle of conditioner last week because hers was running low. It sits beneath my sink, never to be opened.

Her step-brother’s birthday is July 17. She’s always been jealous that he’s a summer baby because she likes warm weather best.

Her eyes look brown at first, but up close, in the light of dawn, you can see bits of hazel too. I used to tell her I loved her every day, but I always meant it most at sunrise. I don’t know when I stopped saying it. Maybe it was a while ago. Maybe I’ve only been thinking it lately. I can’t remember.

Yes, I think.

“No,” I say. “I’m not listening.”

--

#3: I’ve made a survival guide. I’ll never share it with anyone.

On nights you spend pressed up against strangers, hide your face in their hair so they can’t find your eyes. 

Fake-laugh with false friends over drinks you won’t remember mixing. This will make them look at you, but without looking too close.

Hundreds of mouths, maybe thousands, bitter or sweet, it won’t matter. You’ll hang on them for hours but you won’t remember the taste of them come the morning. 

Mourn when you realize you can’t possibly count what you can’t remember. 

Watch your latest lover do a line in the bathroom, but don’t get up off the couch to stop them. Wonder if this will be the one-line-too-much that ends it. 

Spit yourself out in blood splatters on kitchen sinks and street corners because the alternative—the swallowing, that forceful ingestion of everything you’ve let past your lips—will poison you to death. And you want to live, don’t you? Haven’t you told them all that you want to live?

This is your body. It once belonged to your mother, and if you keep it alive for just a little longer, maybe she’ll remember.

This is love, rotting as it slips through your fingers. 

This is life in exile.

[pixelbark]

I'm aware it's the end of February, I had this written about 3 weeks ago but family issues have gotten in the way of well, pretty much everything and my free time has evaporated.

That said...

Hello, lovelies!

First of all, Happy New Year! I hope everything is going well for you all so far. I have news, read on for the news! And a thank you gift!

Did you know that the development of My Littlest Skeleton is still ongoing? I know!

So, the funny thing about this little Halloween game that was only going to take 2 months, it's been 4. You could say things have... escalated since then.

I've been having a blast working on it and it's gone and the feature creeped itself out of microgame territory, so here's the deal...

The Pixelbark Newsletter!

Let's start with the big announcement, I have started the Pixelbark Newsletter!

This will be a consistently posted newsletter about all things Pixelbark. For the next few months, it will be focused on the development of My Littlest Skeleton and another project that I have going on which will also be released this year. But moving forward it will also contain tidbits about development and general things that I find cool and exciting. It will be posted monthly.

If you're interested please sign up!

As a thank you; those that do will receive a free Steam Key for my game NEON Ultra which is yours to do with as you, please! Claim it as your own, give it to a cutie pie, sell it on a grey market dodgy website, it's up to you!

Those that are signed up will also get a discount code for My Littlest Skeleton when it releases!

Click here to Sign up for the Newsletter!

January Progress

Anyway, here's what I've been working on this month, it's been a development-heavy month so not much in the way of visuals I'm afraid!

The Big Interaction System Rewrite

This is where the majority of the effort has gone this month, the old interaction system was this mess of custom code, animation triggers and Unity Timeline hackery using Signal Emitters, I won't explain in detail how it works because nobody needs that in their life. It was an absolute headache to work in and adding one new object took several days to do including building the art and animations.

The big challenge I was really facing with this is knowing when an animation starts, and when it ends, so that I can swap out the animated Skeleton with the Ragdoll Skeleton accordingly. Along with having triggers so I know when to play sound effects, update the motives, and so on and so on.

Another huge requirement is the ease of use, which means I've gone ahead and built some editor tools too so I can now quickly put together interactable prefabs. I'm hoping this will speed me up a lot!

This is all still very much a work in progress, since it's the major key element of gameplay I really want to take the time to get this right.

Here it is in action!

There are still some things that need ironing out yet, but chief among them is the Skeleton snapping into place when he interacts with things. I have a solution in my brain to goop already for that, I'll get there as I go down the list of priorities!

Behaviour Trees are exciting until you overuse them

Behaviour Trees are cool, when I built my first one for My Littlest Skeleton I was super excited to use it, and it shows, because I've used it for everything.

So some of the work this month has been taking things that don't belong in the behaviour tree out and replacing them with more custom scripts. The first one of these is the code that tells a motive (like hunger) to update. Long term I just want the Skeleton-specific actions to go in the behaviour tree. I think it will help the game scale more organically as I get bogged down in even more feature creep...

Debugging Tools

Last, on the list this month is Debugging Tools! Those are things I should have built at the start...

Quite heavily inspired by The Sims I've made a method of opening a console and typing commands like rosebud in for increasing the currency, or set_motive hunger 50 to set his hunger motive to a value of 50%.

Nothing amazing or groundbreaking, but it's going to speed testing up that's for sure.

A lesson to be learned here, do this first and keep it updated as you add more stuff. It will save you so much time and energy down the line!

Oh, and No Clip mode! So I can make videos more easily now.

I'm considering just keeping these in because cheat codes and cool and need to come back. What do you think?

And that is everything my commit history is telling me I did this month!

Marketing Push

I will be beginning the marketing push for My Littlest Skeleton as we go into February! It's early days yet but rest assured I'll have a lot to say soon!

Commissioned an Artist

I have commissioned an artist to help make the key art for the marketing, it's someone whose work I've admired for a long time so I'm super excited to start working with him!

Newsletter

As mentioned above there's now a newsletter that you can sign up for and get yourself a free game and a discount code in the future. And also keep up to date with everything that's going on!

For frequent updates and to chat with me directly; I'm dotted around on the internet and always available!

Twitter ~ Mastodon ~ Newsletter ~ Discord

See you next thing!

❤️ Amy

My Littlest What Now?

Never heard of My Littlest Skeleton? Not to worry! Allow me to explain:

My Littlest Skeleton is a cosy and relaxing simulator where you care for your very own little Skeleton chum! Pull your unique Skeleton back from the depths of the Nether Region. Then help them fulfil their needs and keep their furnishings in top shape as they will degrade over time! The happier your Skeleton becomes, the greater the rewards! So make sure you take good care of them, because, after all, there is a Skeleton in all of us!