#hoping to have that for patrons later this week + will do a flip-through video and put it in my ko-fi shop for everyone eventually

[asterwild]

behold: bears

[nugnthopkns]

hold me like that

word count: 1.6k

warnings: explicit!fem reader, soft wedding vibes

recommended listening: it's all coming back to me now | celine dion

a/n: guess i go here now. got inspired by that video where the avs sing their go-to karaoke songs and tbarrie does not disappoint

Tyson has always had this magnetism about him.

You felt it the first time you met him. It was a sleepy Thursday night in Denver, and your friends had convinced you to join them for a few drinks to celebrate the long weekend you’d all found yourself faced with. You weren’t huge on going out on weekdays, but you did have Friday off because the building that held your office was undergoing construction. Instead of forcing everyone to work from home the company decided to create a long weekend, and you were incredibly grateful. It had been a hard couple of weeks with project deadline after deadline, but that was behind you now and you could kick back and relax. Plus, your friends offered to foot your bill, so how could you say no?

The dive bar you had found yourself crowded into was hosting a karaoke night. It seemed like every patron was scrambling to get a turn at the mic, but you sat at a table off to the side and just cheered them on. Your friends did their best to convince you to do a rendition of ‘Wannabe’ with them but you refused, staying in your seat while they made fools of themselves in front of hundreds of people. Somehow, Sarah had gotten the crowd to join in, and it turned into a giant sing-along. Laughter tumbled from your lips as you watched, and once they finished you whistled loudly, clapping along with the rest of the crowd. The four of them took dramatic bows before they exited stage left. They tumbled back to the table as the emcee called for the next participant.

“Tyson? You’re up next!”

Chants of his name erupted from a group of men across the bar, and one of them peeled off to hop onto the stage. He smiled brightly at the crowd and gave a timid wave before turning to his friends and flipping them off. Their laughter echoed off the walls and you joined in. However, your laughter was less in good spirit and more of the awestruck variety. The man in front of you had kind eyes and gently tousled waves that just suited him. His smile made you want to get to know him better, and you found yourself drawn to him. The opening piano notes of a ballad fluttered through the speakers as you watched intently.

“There were nights when the wind was so cold,” he crooned, and the pitch of his voice surprised you. It took a few more lines for you to realize he was imitating Céline Dion, though rather poorly. Everyone in the bar was enthralled by the performance he was giving, and you spotted more than a few girls near the stage who were trying desperately to get his attention.

The group he came with continued to shout their support, but it was hard to understand them due to just how much they laughed. Prepared to go all out for the chorus, Tyson ripped the microphone from its stand and walked to the edge of the stage. “When you touch me like this, and you hold me like that,” he sang, and turned in the direction of your table. Boldly, the stranger pointed directly at you as he continued in the ridiculous accent. “I just have to admit that it’s all coming back to me.” At the end of the sentence, with his arm still extended, Tyson winked at you.

He continued to sing and the rest of the crowd joined him, but you were too shocked to form the words. You sat there dumbfounded until the end of the song, when you came to your wits just enough to join the applause. Tyson took it all in stride and gave the same wave he offered at the beginning of the performance before he shuffled off the stage. Instead of rejoining the festivities at his friends’ table, the brunette made his way through the crowd towards you. He stuck out at hand once he stopped in front of you, and spoke with the softest demeanour you had ever encountered.

“I couldn’t help but notice you from up there. I’m Tyson.”

Your insides melted at the sound of his voice, and you choked out a reply as you tried to figure out a way to stay close to him forever.

☼☼☼☼

He’s the same way now, a handful of years later. No matter what room you're in or how many people are between the two of you, one soft smile from Tyson has you slinking across the space and into his side. Friends and family laugh at how you’re always found close to one another, but they truly don’t mind because the love between you is palpable. It took you both an incredibly long time to find the happiness each other brings and no one is going to try and take it away from you.

It’s late in the evening, the sun having dipped behind the mountains hours ago, but somehow you’re still stuck repeating the same thank you spiel to wedding guests as you walk around. Tyson is nowhere in sight, but you’re sure he’s doing the same thing. No one informed you how much time you’d actually spend separated from your newly minted husband on your wedding night – if you had known you would have cut the guest list down dramatically.

You slip from the conversation you found yourself in with Tyson’s aunt and grandmother and head to the balcony of the rustic ski lodge you rented for the ceremony and reception. The fresh air greets you like a welcome friend, but it’s chillier than you expected. Wordlessly you pull your husband’s suit jacket tighter around your shoulders and stare at the idyllic landscape in front of you. Though you no longer live in Colorado, Tyson’s job landing you in Edmonton via a short stint in Toronto, you knew you had to get married here. It was your home for so long and your closest friends still reside in the state. Besides, it has that low-key feeling that is an exact replica of your relationship. Everything is easy in Colorado, just like it’s easy with Tyson.

There’s a rustling behind you that signals someone else has appeared on the balcony, and you don’t have to turn around to know it’s Tyson. The air around you has warmed up significantly and there’s a prickle of electricity at the base of your neck that flickers whenever he’s around. A pair of strong arms wrap around your waist, and you lean back into the body they belong to.

“Hey there stranger,” Tyson says softly, tilting your head gently to press a delicate kiss to your lips.

“Long time no see,” you hum in response. “I didn’t know I’d never get to see you once we were married.”

He throws his head back in laughter at your grovelling, and you swear you’d be content if that was the only sound you heard for the rest of your life. “We have a lifetime ahead of us baby, I think we can let your nieces have a few dances with me.”

You know he’s right, but you’ll never admit it. Time doesn’t feel quite as fulfilling when it’s spent apart from Tyson. A comfortable silence engulfs the little bubble you’ve found yourself in, and Tyson says pressed to you as you point out the various constellations littering the night sky. Astronomy was a hobby you picked up one season to keep the loneliness at bay while Tyson was away, but it stuck and he listens to you ramble about the stars as often as he can. The silence is so peaceful, filled with so much love, that you think about never returning to the reception area.

“Do you remember the first night we met?” you whisper, nervous about disturbing the tranquil atmosphere.

“How could I forget? You were the most beautiful girl in the room.” It’s your turn to laugh, but Tyson insists. “I’m serious babe. Gabe had pointed you out when we walked in, but I was too much of a chicken to do anything. I kept waiting, hoping you’d go up and sing a song so I’d have a reason to come talk to you, but you never did. The guys gauded me into doing that ridiculous Céline Dion impression, and I only did it to catch your attention.”

Surprise laces your features. “Why have I never heard this version of events?”

“Because it’s stupid.”

You turn in his grip as gently as possible, looking him in the eyes. “I don’t think anything you do could be considered stupid Tys.”

“Even that one time at Worlds where I cut myself wrestling with Simmer?”

The sparkle in your eyes only intensifies as you giggle. “Maybe that,” you sigh, “But nothing else.”

Out of things to say, probably because he knows that was an incredibly stupid moment, Tyson leans down to close the distance between your lips. The kiss isn’t unlike the ones you’ve shared all day – sweet and full of so much love the grinch would snuff up his nose. However, it’s also different. It manages to convey a thousand words Tyson would never be able to vocalize about how thankful he is for you, and you revel in the feeling. You’ve never loved someone as much as you love him and it’s clear he’s in the same boat.

Eventually you pull away, a bright smile taking up much of your face as you rest your head on Tyson’s shoulder. When Tyson came out to find you he didn’t shut the sliding door properly, and the piano melody that started it all makes its way to your ears. Tyson’s laugh rumbles in his chest and you feel it against like a sunshine beam on your cheek. Wordlessly he begins to sway in time with the music, and you follow his lead.

“I love you,” he says with the same amount of conviction a judge does when giving a sentence.

Your response is automatic, and the easiest thing you’ve ever done. “Forever and ever.”

[bad-bitch-beauchamp]

Songs About Me - Chapter Three

After karaoke night and Claire's impromptu performance, both Claire and Jamie spend the next day reconciling with their choices from the night before.

Read on AO3

“Stay, Sassenach! One more drink!” 

“One more drink might be the death of me, Mr. Fraser, and if you’d like to watch me embarrass myself again next week, I can’t be on my deathbed tonight!” 

He had tried to convince her to let him walk her home, but she waved him off and pulled the sweater that had fallen off her shoulder back up to its rightful place at the junction of neck and shoulder -- a place Jamie couldn’t tear himself away from until that moment. She wrangled a loose curl behind her ear, tugged on her coat, and caught Jamie watching her every move, drink at his lips, eyes just over the rim of the glass. She could’ve stayed, could’ve responded, could’ve reacted to what she was feeling right then… no. A couple of hours together in a bar and a poor excuse for a solo at closing time did not change the fact she didn’t know this man. This very handsome man, she reminded herself. No. You came out here for yourself. Leave by yourself.

She met his eyes one last time, gave a nervous laugh, declared “Hope to see you next weekend!” all too loudly, and spun on her heel. She had stepped over the threshold when she thought she heard her name from inside, but she didn’t turn to find out. 

———

Claire realized exactly three things when she awoke the next morning: The sun was shining too brightly, the street musician playing on the corner directly below her bedroom window was playing too loudly, and the memories of the last night with the redhead who loved music and books were coming on too fast. Somehow, in the span of a few hours, he had literally become her waking thoughts. She sat up in bed, still cocooned in a cloud of white cotton sheets and linen comforters. What do you even know about him? Probably not even anything. She pulled herself from the warmth of the bed, her feet landing on a soft oriental rug in shades of blues and greens. His eyes were the colors in this rug. Just like the ocean itself. Okay, she remembered one thing about him. The woven textile gave way to worn hardwood floors, on to cool hexagon tiles lining her bathroom floor as she passed through glass french doors between bookshelves on the wall. 

When Claire inherited her Uncle Lamb’s brownstone, she could remember only one thing about the place from her visits: the upstairs was magical. Quentin Lambert Beauchamp was an archaeologist, and although it rarely happened, he had decided he needed a home base to work from. In the historic brownstone, he neglected to update much besides the upper level. As the brownstone was on a corner lot, Lamb declared it must have every window possible to let in the light. Days were too gloomy and cloudy in England, and he would soak up all the light he could while teaching here at Harvard, thank you very much. The most magical room in the entire home (according to both Beauchamps) was lined from front to back with alternating windows and storage -- wide bookshelves on the top, long cabinets on the bottom. The opposite side was almost entirely made of the same bookshelves, save for two sets of french doors leading to a large closet and a larger master bathroom, respectively. The bookshelves traveled up to a curved ceiling, rails and ladders lined the walls to reach the highest and most precious of his belongs (now hers as well). Claire had painted the walls and trim shades of white and cream and ivory. The shelves were stripped and stained with a neutral-tone light wood with white filler. The brass fixtures and ladder rails sparkled in the warm morning light. Claire placed plants wherever she could fit them, and donned the shelves with memories to mingle with the ones Lamb left behind. This room, this place, was her favorite in the whole world. 

Back in the bathroom and walking to the walk-in shower, Claire bent down to reach the sweater she tossed aside the night before. The underside of his hair is this color. Right at the base of his neck, with the extra curls. She shook her head and started the tap. Maybe all his curls would turn that color when he got wet. She turned the faucet as hot as she could stand it, reached an arm for her phone, and set Spotify to only play Blink-182. We’re done with those feelings! No feelings, only the angst possible with punk rock! 

Cold tile brought her down to earth again when she stepped out of the shower, the trails of water dripping down her back and breasts a refreshing break from the onslaught of pounding heat. He felt like a breath of fresh air. Just like this. 

With a towel wrapped around head and a t-shirt tossed on, she made her way back to the bedroom and took a seat on her bed. She desperately wished she had stayed for that last drink. Or at least got his number? Why didn’t I get his number?! Now, she’d have to wait another six days before seeing him again. Maybe her attraction to him was nothing more than lust, but if she could text with him, get to know him better, maybe she could find out. With no way of reaching him, she opted to get dressed and head out to clear her head. Maybe find a place to write? Since her decision to put herself first, she’d put letting off steam by writing and singing. It fell in live with the general creativity that fueled her life, while still being different enough from the greenhouse to give her a bit of rest and peace. As she contemplated where to adventure off that morning and pondered the correct way to lace her Doc Marten boots, her phone rang. A photo of three fresh faces graced her screen, a woman with wild dark curls with her mouth gaping with laughter, another woman with a waterfall of red hair and piercing green eyes made less intimidating by the crinkles at the edges, and a man with deep dimples surrounding his smile and an eyebrow raised in surprise at the camera taking their picture. Claire hit the accept button on the call, and thus the inquisition arrived. 

“We need to talk about last night!” The screen was split in two, with Geillis’ video on top and Joe’s on the bottom with Claire’s in the corner. 

“What about last night? I honestly thought our song was pretty good! I was thinking next week we could do--”

“That’s obviously not what we’re talking about, LJ! But agreed, we did a damn good job.”

“Will you two quit it?” Geillis cut them off and brought her face closer to her screen. “We need to talk about Claire, that viking, and the unreal chemistry. Spill it ALL, Claire.”

———

Jamie had woke nursing a headache, but alas, today would not be the day for rest. He flipped the sign in the window of Fraser Literature from closed to open, and began to check off the list of opening duties. On the list was to water the plants. Set on a table in a small alcove, on top of side table next to an worn leather chair for patrons to sit and peruse a story in, hanging from simple planters in the window that stretched from edge to edge in front of the shop, guarding the aisles of books ready to be enjoyed by people who hadn’t read them yet. Jamie often visited a greenhouse just outside town for the shop’s plants. While a small place, it was teeming with love, peacefulness, and a sense of adventure with green as far as the eye could see, boarding the windows with giant leaves and trailing vines. The feeling inside was something he wanted to emulate in his own place, and so he started adding a wee bit of flora here and there. Rupert and Angus initially laughed off his efforts, claiming Jamie was “destroying the manly vibe” they were aiming for. With every bit of decoration, every little bit of effort however, the shop grew in reputation and success. Jamie was immensely proud of the shop he built, and even more grateful he was able to spend his days surrounded by the words of great men and women, constantly inspired and in awe of the endless stories at his fingertips. 

The boys -- Angus and Rupert, that is -- had brought up the idea of expanding into a few other fine art ideas within the shop. Jamie had been reluctant to agree to anything that wasn’t directly related to literature. As they stood around the front counter, Rupert led the charge: 

“Jamie, man. The people who like books are also the ones who like art and music and such. Why not try to bring them all together?” 

“What if they don’t care about the books? What if they don’t even look at them, and don’t care? What’s the point in having the shop, then?”

It was Angus’ turn to reply with, “Well the point is getting people in the door, and letting your “wee shop” as ye always call it speak for itself, aye?” 

Jamie had to agree with that point. He settled for telling the lads that if they could come up with a suitable idea, he’d agree to it. Twenty minutes later, Angus and Rupert stood in his office doorway saying they would be asking for local musicians to come and perform. 

“Doesn’t seem like yer asking for approval.” 

Jamie didn’t look up from his computer, but could hear the grin in Rupert’s voice as he replied, “‘Tis because ye know it’s a good idea, and ye wouldn’t refuse a good idea.” 

Jamie sat back in the rolling leather chair behind his antique desk and sighed, then laughed. “Why do I even try to control what ye two do? Yer jes’ going to do it anyway.” The lads grinned at each other and shrugged. “Go on then, see if ye can have some posters made up to put in the window.” 

He stood as Rupert saluted him and Angus muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like, “Aye aye, captain,” and stretched his long, lean, muscles. He needed to get a few errands completed, so opted to spend the next few hours outside both to complete his tasks and to get out in the fresh air. He told his friends he’d be back soon, and to let them know if he needed anything. 

With one step out into the sunlight, he immediately regretted the amount he had drunk the night before. Two in the morning was not a suitable time to be out, but for the lass with the dark curls and the whisky eyes, he’d give every moment of his time. From the moment he woke, he thought of her. Thought of how she made him laugh. Thought of how bonny she felt under his fingers, her hips on the barstool as she wiggled back into place, her thigh touching his under the booth table. He thought of how she’d gone up on stage as an act of defiance against him for the insult to her friend’s song, but how instead she ended up showing a piece of her soul to him, and him alone. He thought of how her eyes matched the swirling liquid in his glass. He thought of her abrupt departure after he had asked her to stay, and how he almost ran out after. He thought of how he was so incredibly stupid as to not have asked for her number before she ran. Look what ye did -- now ye have to wait to see her, and yer barely functional as it is. While Angus and Rupert had been gauging his interest for the musical talent in his office earlier, he had been searching the Facebook page for the 21st Amendment, combing it for references to her. To Claire. Maybe she had performed there? Perhaps she and her friends had tagged the place in one of their pictures? There was no sign of her, and she hadn’t told him her last name. Six days to go, mate. Ye can do this. She’s just a lass. Ye don’t know her. 

After a few hours of tedious tasks (could the post office ever be efficient, just this once?), he made his way back to Fraser Literature. It was a warm day for autumn, and the shop would have a cart with discount books out on the sidewalk and the door propped open for fresh air. He would never tire of seeing his name on something he built, something he was so proud of. As he neared the shop however, it wasn’t the name on the window that drew his attention -- it was the many people standing inside, facing the window, looking outside. Jamie stopped and looked around, but not finding anything out of place around him. He took a few steps closer. They weren’t looking outside, but rather at the inside corner of the shop, the corner where the window meets the wall. He was only a few steps away when he saw it, when he heard it. A woman with bouncy curls and a round arse, sitting with her back to the window at a keyboard bench. He didn’t have to see her face to know. Her voice was enough. It was enough at two in the morning to imprint on him forever. 

She was there, in his shop. His place. Claire. God, his Claire. 

With one shaky step and an attempt at a steadying breath, he moved inside his sanctuary.

[shnuggletea]

Chapter Two of D-Men is now live! 

The prequel to Feudal Connection’s Best Dark Fanfiction 2020 Cell Mates continues! For the awesome and beautiful event @inuparentsday​, we see Izayoi and Toga finally meet! And get a few more looks into the world before Cell Mates. 

Art by @kirrtash​ for the event can be found here!

Don’t forget the playlist!!!

Tag List!

@underwater0phelia​ @lavendertwilight89​ @mamabearcat​ @nartista​ @nopenname22​ @echobows​ @superpixie42​ @smmahamazing​ @redflamesofpassion​ @jme-chan​ @cstorm86​ @cicleydark-light​ @ruddcatha​ @lavaffair​ @kirrtash​ @sistasecbhere​ @obsessandfangirl​ @britonell​ @lordofthechips​ @mcornilliac​ @faolenwolf​ @keichanz​ @phoenix-before-the-flame​ @artisticloveexpressitsall​ @lamuertadehambre​ @noyourenotreal​ @mitty-san​ @thenoammonster​ @little-deeluna​ @royaltrashpanda​ @sailorbabydoll92​ @storyweaver2017​ @malditamigs​ @adorabubblesblog​ @petri808​ @anniehcresta​ @fan-dumpp​ @itzatakahashi​ @utakuprincess​ @theschultinator​ @all-too-ale​ @little-inukag-obsessed​ @theseagullqueen​ @queenofthesquirps​ @jolinaaa00​ @knowall7k​ @neutronstarchild​ @fawn-eyed-girl​ @eringobroke​ @sapphirestarxx​ @clearwillow​ @dangerouspompadour​ @misspepperpottss @kagometaishostory​​ @egosolivagant​​ @fandompromptsandfun​​ @fandomartlover​​ @fanficnewbiee​

Always feel free to let me know if you want to be added to my tag list!

Chapter Two

As far as cells went, this was far from the worst Toga had ever been in. After all, he’d been married once. 

He laughed at the joke inside his head; even Miya would have laughed at that one. The monk was nearby, watching and waiting. Or he was supposed to be. The whole point of allowing these humans to capture him was so they would know where they were and what they knew. And just how many of them there were. 

It wasn’t just for his kind, it was for the humans as well. If MiLady and her croons discovered this place first then they would blow it up and call it a gas leak. Accidents tended to happen to humans that knew too much.

Toga wasn’t surprised his weapons were taken but they took his clothes too! Including his jacket! More than just for warmth, the fire rat robes it was made of kept his chest from being easily pierced. It was his armor and he very much wanted it back. Especially with the guys in lab coats coming in close and carrying needles.

He hated needles.

“Are we sure these will even work?” A skinny one with thick glasses asked.

They all looked to the tall guy with long hair. He was the one that ‘greeted’ Toga when he arrived. They’re boss, Toga didn’t so much as sit a little straighter as the tall man stood before him. The only thing that separated them was a thick layer of glass. Did they think the caution stickers on the front of the glass somehow made it stronger? None of them seemed to realize that, if he didn’t want to be here, it would be nothing for him to leave their small prison.

“What’s your name?” The man asked.

Toga eyed the needles again as the men stepped closer. “Well… my enemies call me Fighting Fang. While my friends call me Toga.”

He put it to the humans to decide; friend or foe.

“Will this needle pierce your skin?”

Twerking up a brow, he eyed the man carefully. “Yeah…”

“Good. Dr. Yosh?”

The boss gestured to the skinny one (a Dr. Yosh it would seem) and he stepped up to the glass. Pressing some buttons that Toga could hear and not see, a small hatch in the glass opened up. The cage was just long and deep enough for him to lay down on the raised floor. Miya would bitch at him later but unless he wanted to break out of this cage without any idea how much these humans knew about them then he would have to let them take his blood. 

Just as he said it would, the needle broke through his skin and allowed them to take his blood. Toga wasn’t impervious (hence the need for his armor) he just healed quickly. So quick that most wounds were similar to the needle under his skin like a pin prick. Right now, Toga wasn’t sure which was more annoying. A shot to his gut or the Prick smirking at him. 

“Guess you’ll be calling me Fighting Fang then.” He spoke as calmly as possible to the man in charge as they stared one another down.

“Is that a threat?” Dr. Setsuna asked.

“No. I just don’t like you.”

The jerk laughed and took a small vial of Toga’s blood. “Like I care.”

He had spoken softly as if he didn’t know Toga could hear him. When Dr. Prick looked over his shoulder back at him, he was clearly gaging to see if Toga had heard him. Resisting the urge to flip him the bird, Toga remained as if he had heard nothing. The point was to learn what they knew; not give them more information. 

Maybe he could steal his blood back on the way out? He also wasn’t sure how much it mattered; he and Miya had watched them collect samples of Snowflake’s blood she left behind that night. What was some more blood for them to play with?

“Dr. Hime? You’re still here?”

One of Takemaru’s lab partners stood in the doorway of her lab. She wasn’t leaving until they did. And even then, she was going to take a peek at whatever they were working on. “Yes, of course.”

“Dr. Setsuna has another sample for you to examine.”

More blood. Was there a point to studying this one or would he simply tell her not to worry about it a few hours from now? Izayoi took it regardless. It was a piece of the puzzle and she hoped it would help her understand the samples she had already. 

Extraction, Quantification, then Amplification. Steps she had run so many times in her lifetime that it was muscle memory. It was how she knew she hadn’t made a mistake when again, animal DNA was present with the strange markers that even she couldn’t identify. This time it was canine DNA. 

Was this some kind of joke? Was Takemaru messing with her and wasting her time?! Fuming, she left her lab and stormed over to the one across the hall. The lab assistants were still in a tisy with excitement and all Izayoi could think was that they should have their coffee privileges revoked. 

“Dr. Setsuna!” 

He turned and smirked at her as she stomped over to him. “Dr. Hime, you’re still here?”

Like she was going anywhere with all this bullshit going on. “Yes.” She answered with a hiss of irritation.

“Well then. Since you’re so… insistent, I suppose you can get a peek at our new project.”

She hadn’t expected it to be this easy. Takemaru was bragging and it only made her feel sick as he placed a hand on her shoulder to guide her around. A sickness that grew when she spotted the man that had entered through the loading bay was now in a cell. A cell that wasn’t constructed hastily; it had been there long before the man showed up.

And there was more than one.

The man looked alright, laying out in the cell like it was any other night or as if it were his couch. His eyes found her and he sat up a little straighter in his box but it didn’t allow much movement. It was more than enough for her to feel light headed. 

The blue streaks on his face she saw before. Now in a white t-shirt and pants like a test subject, she saw matching marks on his arms and one peeking from under his shirt on his side. But that wasn’t what had her struggling to breathe. It was his eyes. They were amber. Like crystalized sap that was held up to the sunlight. They glimmered and glowed and stuck to her; as if sticky like sap too.

“Izayoi, this is our new specimen.”

She wanted to glare at Takemaru for his informal tendencies as well as calling a man a specimen. But her eyes refused to leave the strange man. His long, flowing locks didn’t help; he was very handsome. 

Now close, he grinned back at her through the glass and winked. “You can call me Toga.”

Before she had a chance to say a single sound, Takemaru stepped between and started pushing her back. “As you can see, we have a lot to do here and it is already very late.”

“Wait! You can't just lock him up…”

“He volunteered. There is no harm being done here. Now excuse us, Dr. Hime, as we get to work.”

She was shoved back out into the hall and the door was locked behind her. The sound echoed off the walls. 

“Volunteered?” She said to herself. They had no clue she’d been there when they ushered the man in with cuffs on his wrists. 

Izayoi hated lies.

Busying herself with blood samples and other tissues from other cases sent her way; Izayoi bided her time until the sounds of others in the hallway came to her door. It was one am and those bastards were finally leaving. The locks on the door clicked loudly and Takemaru followed behind the others; leaving last. She waited a beat to make sure no one was coming back and rushed to the other end of the hall. There were video cameras in her lab but that was due to the nature of her work. Many of her cases involved criminal activity so she never questioned the need for her and her assistants to be watched. Izayoi had to hope it was a different story for Takemaru’s lab. But with them imprisoning people she had little doubt they were filming in his lab.

Her ID/access card in hand, she swiftly ran it through the reader; not surprised in the least when she was denied access. Glancing around her twice (making sure she was really alone) she pulled out another ID card. Takemaru was so full of himself that he had a bad habit of leaving his card in the break room. Izayoi had intended to give it back to him but after two weeks of his patronizing ways and his ease with getting a new one, she didn’t feel the need to be so… helpful. Instead, she helped herself. 

Takemaru didn’t even cancel the card. How is it an idiot like him got promoted over her? She rolled her eyes at the thought; she lacked an important piece of anatomy and that was it.

Slowly, Izayoi made her way to the back of the large lab; looking for cameras as she went. Not in sight of the ‘cage’ yet and already the man somehow knew she was there. “What are you doing here so late?” Taking the last few steps, she revealed herself and the man wasn’t surprised in the least. “Someone as pretty as you shouldn’t be out this late alone.”

“So if I was ugly it would be okay?”

He smirked and gave her a wink. “Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.”

His eyes were hypnotic. Maybe that was why he was in here? That didn’t make sense, why would Takemaru care about magnetizing eyes. “I’m not sure you understand the meaning of that proverb…”

“It means that everyone is beautiful to someone. So no, even if I found you unattractive, it still wouldn’t be alright that you were out this late alone.”

Izayoi shook her head. Not because she didn’t like what he had to say but because it was far from the point. “What are you doing here?”

“Me? I’m enjoying this lovely cell. Isn’t that obvious?” He gestured as much as he could to his small surroundings. Which wasn’t much.

“Why?”

He leaned forward until his breath fogged up the glass. “Cause I’m special.”

At some point, Izayoi had gotten closer too, her hands now on the glass between them. “Why does your blood have canine DNA mixed in?” Her eyes danced from his amber eyes to his blue streaks. “They… would have sanitized you… washed the paint off your face…”

His head tilted to the side at her but then he held up a finger; the long claw on the end of it made her shiver. Then he licked the finger and ran the wet digit right through the middle of the mark on his arm. “Not paint. Just skin.”

“A tattoo?”

“Who would get tattoos like this? On purpose?”

“Same person who donates their body to science while they’re still alive?”

He rested his head against the glass and (although impossible) she swore she felt the heat of his skin through the glass on her fingertips. “You got me there, I guess.” He stared up at her through his lashes, watching her every micromovement. “Izayoi, right?” She nodded. “My friends call me Toga.”

“And those who aren’t so lucky?”

He sat up at that and crossed his arms in defiance. “What are you doing here? You don’t strike me as the type to be into freak shows…”

“I came to… get you out.”

He huffed, a broad grin on his face that made his eyes sparkle. “You don’t even know me. I could be a killer.”

Izayoi considered his words carefully as well as his demeanor. “Two blood samples came to my lab tonight. One that had feline DNA mixed in. It arrived before you did. Then I got another sample of completely different DNA. Which I can assume is yours?” He didn’t nod or react in any way but she continued regardless. “Did you kill the person with feline DNA?”

Toga scrutinized her, studying her face. “I didn’t. But I did get you your blood sample if you know what I mean.”

“You hurt her?”

His smirk returned at the mention of a gender. “Clever. And yes. But believe me when I say she deserved it.”

Izayoi couldn’t explain it but she did believe him. He could have been telling her what she wanted to hear though; he was in a cage and at her mercy. “I need to get you out of here now. Before anyone comes back.” She looked at the keypad but there was no card access. You had to know the code. “Any chance you caught the code for this?”

“They didn’t share that sort of thing with me.” She passed him a glare and he chuckled softly. “I did hear the keys. If you press them again, I’ll know which ones are the right ones.”

“If I put in the wrong code it’ll set off an alarm for sure.”

“What if we broke the glass?”

She looked around the lab for something to use. “It’s way too thick, I’m sure. I could maybe try a chair but there’s probably an alarm set to it too…”

Loud squeals filled the air as well as a red flashing light. Izayoi turned back to the glass but it was gone; the large and thick layer was now mostly on the floor in large chunks. And the cell was empty.

“Oops.”

Now she squealed, spinning on her heel to find Toga right behind her, breathing down her neck. “Holy shit!”

His hands went off, showing off his claws again. “Sorry. But I didn’t want you getting in trouble”

Her mind spun as she looked between the man and the broken cell. “Could you get out the whole time?! What the hell?!”

“I was just visiting,” he said casually while slipping his hand into hers, “I’m going to need your help getting a few things.”

His ‘jail break’ was a little earlier than he had originally planned. But the Doctor was so damn cute, he couldn’t help himself and was showing off a bit. She also seemed to know the most about him and his people out of all the others in this place. Which wasn’t much.

Her hand felt so small in his and he was trying to focus on not crushing it. She also wasn’t pulling away from him even with his claws. Dr. Izayoi Hime was intriguing to say the least. And her scent had his other senses in overload. Toga knew better than to get in over his head… for now anyway. He had more important things to worry about, following Izayoi’s scent back to her lab. 

“I’m going to need those blood samples you have.” She shook her head at him and his response (without control) was to pull her closer. Now towering over her, he looked deeply into her fawn colored eyes. “It’s not safe for you to have them.”

Izayoi’s heart skipped and settled quickly. It was clear she appreciated honesty. So how honest would he have to be with her now to keep her safe? Because at this point, he was very attached to her and he didn’t just mean their hands. 

“Cameras…” She didn’t point and he felt like an idiot because he could hear them clearly now as they turned. “If I just give you the samples…”

“I get it.” He held up a claw and placed it to her neck carefully so as not to cut so much as a fine hair on it. “Please, get the samples and trash them.” She moved and he followed, keeping close to her while trying to keep watch. The lights were still going crazy and the siren was really getting on his last nerve. “Do you know where they’re keeping my clothes and the weapons I had on me?”

Dr. Hime finished dumping the blood down the sink and then filled the vials with some kind of liquid solution. “I might know.”

They said nothing more while in the room with eyes and ears. Toga kept his wits this time as they entered a room at the far back of the facility. Only to have Izayoi lead them to an elevator. It was the same one they had put him in when he got here and he had counted the floors. They were on floor twenty out of twenty-four. Toga had no clue how many floors were owned by the scientists but now he knew floor twenty and floor sixteen where theirs as Izayoi led them off on the lower floor.

She took his hand again but when he heard the whir of a camera and yanked her back. With one arm around her neck he felt the situation looked far more threatening for the Doctor. “Sorry about this…” he took a deep whiff of her scent and her soft black hairs tickled his nose, “actually, that’s a lie.”

Her hands were gripping his forearm but they did nothing to hide the small shake she did from his honesty. Nor the thumping her heart did from his closeness. It all made her scent permeate more and she smelt like sweet peach blossoms. 

Izayoi took one hand off him to point. “It’s the room up there but there’s another lock on the door.”

They stumbled up to the door and he pulled it open easily. “Must have forgot to lock it.”

“The building is on lock down,” she hissed when he lied to her, “that means everything locks automatically.”

Once out of the hallway, he let her go completely and began to search. “Well, I was right about one thing. You hate liars don’t you?”

She was stunned at the doorway. “Yes.”

“Guess that means you’re not a fan of that Setsuna guy?”

The little huff she did as well as the roll of her eyes was adorable. “He’s my boss.”

In a small locker along the wall, Toga smelled his scent. He popped open the locker like a can of soda and turned back to Izayoi, her eyes wide. “He’s a dick.”

Toga didn’t give a shit about his shirt and slacks, they were replaceable. So the only thing he grabbed was his jacket; the fire rat robes. “We came all the way down here for a worn out coat?”

He was shoving his arms through it and searching the rest of the space hastily. “Not everything is as it seems.”

“Is that your way of dodging the truth?”

Stopping, he looked back at the perturbed beauty with a grin. “It’s not a lie. I just don’t have the time to explain it more than that.” Izayoi rolled her eyes but no longer seemed pissed. “I have to find my swords.”

“Swords? You go around with swords?! What are you a ninja??!”

Laughter spilled out of him and he causally wrapped an arm around her waist to ‘escort’ her out. “Ninja. I like that.”

Out in the hall again, he held Izayoi tightly to give off a sense of captivity. Toga was certainly taking advantage though, turning her so her curves pressed against him. She had to tilt her head back to look at him; her light browns actually made him shiver when they found his eyes again. “I don’t… I don’t know where your swords are.”

She was whispering and it wasn’t because of the cameras. He was pretty sure they couldn’t hear much over the sirens that continued to irritatingly blare. “That’s okay, we’ll find them together.”

Before she could say anything else, he had the two of them back at the elevator. He was no longer hiding his demon speed; she had already seen his strength a few times. Izayoi looked pale and he felt her go slack in his arms. So he switched to carrying her. Sweeping an arm under her limp legs and lifting her was easy since she didn’t fight him on it. The many floor numbers were before him while Izayoi blacked out in his arms. 

“Alright… if I was a demon sword… where would I be?”

“Demon?” Izayoi murmured.

He doubted she would remember this. As it were, she was likely to think the whole night was all a nightmare. Leaning in, he whispered in her ear. “That’s right, Izayoi. I’m a demon.”

“Demon….”

“A dog demon to be exact. Some call me Fighting Fang while others call me The Great Dog General.”

“Fighting… Fang…?”

She was really out of it and if her heart and breathing wasn’t regulated, Toga would have been concerned. It was all just too much for the sweet Doctor. “Yeah. But as I said before, you should call me Toga.”

He pressed the floor they started on, twenty, and the box lurched. “Toga…”

Izayoi was grabbing his armor tightly in her fist; she was starting to rally. “My friends call me Toga. And you are definitely a friend… at least.”

The elevator was fast and they would be back at her lab soon. And Izayoi was blinking away her confused and overwhelmed sleep. Toga would never be able to explain it other than he felt it was his last chance, his only chance, lifting Izayoi up and gently pressing his lips to hers. It gave him a rush, a shot of adrenaline that had his heart racing and his body tingling. 

Her eyes were wide open when he opened his. She might remember that part but he had no problem with that. “Welcome back.” He smirked.

The ding of the elevator pulled her bright eyes from his and they moved in sync to put her back on her feet. She tried to walk out on her own but he couldn’t stand that; grabbing her and pulling her back like she was in danger. There was nothing to fear, only him. But she didn’t fight him (yet again) as he pressed her to him. 

“What are we doing back here?”

“We aren’t doing anything,” she got his meaning instantly, glaring up at him, “I’m going to find my swords.”

Izayoi shoved him hard. It did nothing but he noted her anger regardless. “There are seconds left until the building will be swarming with cops and other people with guns!”

He huffed. “They really need to work on their response time…”

“It’s the middle of the night and we’ve never had a break in before.”

“This isn’t a break in, it’s a break out.” Gently, he pushed her into her lab. “Stay here and wait for your friends. I’d say I’d see you later but…”

“You’ll never make it.” She said, stepping out of the safety of her lab and up to him.

“I think I’ve proven my abilities tonight. I’ll be fine.”

Her hands shot out and grabbed his arms. It shouldn’t have stopped him but it did. “Toga, listen. You need to leave now or they will keep you forever.”

“Izayoi, I let them bring me here in the first place…”

“And now they know more about you! You don’t think they’ve already set things in motion to make it harder for you?” He really doubted it since Dr. Setsuna had been at many of their battle scenes after the fact, collecting whatever he could and yet he still put Toga in that pointless cell. “I’ll find your swords and get them to you.”

He twerked a brow up at her in true interest. “You? Won’t that break some code of ethics and go against your personal morals?”

“It would be worse if they locked you up again.” 

She was flushed, her skin hot with embarrassment and he felt a need to touch it; to feel the heat. Brushing the pads of his fingers along her cheeks he soon had her blush against the palm of his hand. Her head tilted back again and he instantly thought about her lips on his. They had been soft and warm. Just a peck, he hadn’t gotten a taste but he imagined she was sweet like her scent. 

But he was also running out of time.

Miya was going to kill him, messing around like this and completely forgetting his mission. But Izayoi was a good distraction, pulling her close and whispering into her face. “Alright, Dr. Hime, I will entrust the return of my swords to you. Listen carefully. You can NOT touch them.”

“How am I supposed to get them if I can’t…”

“Then find them and tell me where they are. I’ll come back and get them. Either way, don’t touch them. It will kill you.”

She was shaking her head but he knew she would listen, pulling her the last few inches to plant his mouth on her forehead. She leaned into it, pressing her skin deeper into him. He had to force himself to let go of her and it was a struggle. One he had never felt before; not for anyone as his muscles strained just to push her back enough to break contact. 

“Thank you, Izayoi.”

He caught the small stumble she did when he released her completely; stepping back and speeding away. There was a window at the end of the hallway and he was at it in a blink of a human eye. Looking back over his shoulder, Izayoi was still watching him; her eyes were wide again and her mouth parted. Toga had to force himself again to keep moving away from her, breaking the glass with ease and leaping out of it. Twenty stories was a bit much, even for a demon, so he had to bounce his way down off the building next to him. Rolling to his feet once he hit the bottom, he dared to look back at the window high above. It was nothing for him to make out all the details of the shattered window and marks he had also left on the side of the building.

So he could make out every detail of Izayoi’s astonished face as she hung dangerously out the shattered glass; watching his every move.

If you want more Cell Mates, head over to my Patreon and subscribe!

[whatsmylaneagain]

Amethyst - Third Chapter

Pairing: Eggsy x Agent!Reader

Word count: 1960 (a big one!!! Yay!!!)

Warnings: swearing, Roxy mention (bc she deserved more), reader’s character being a rebellious lil shit, Eggsy being kinda dumb (oh well this is all kinda narrated by his point of view, there’s no way to not expect that, right?!)

Chapter synopsis: so, we know that the bomb had Eggsy’s name on it, but.... what the hell is actually happening?

A/N: GUYS IM BACK AND IM SORRY!!!! I’ve written (and revised) this more than six months ago, but I absolutely hated how I made Eggsy a dumb character, so I spent all this months putting this story aside to fix it later... but I love it so much and this week I watched Spies are Forever and oh well.... idk, its been too long, but I’m posting this anyway.

Amethyst masterlist

Eggsy didn’t expect to find another person other than Harry and Merlin at the Kingsman’s meeting room. And what he definitely didn’t expect was for the person to be a beautiful Chinese woman laughing and having a drink with Harry Hart. The young man felt like he was invading a private moment, and had the sudden urge to grab y/n by the arm to show her the new victorian-style sconces he chosen for the rebuilt hallway.

But before he could say anything, y/n had already tapped the doorpost, making their presence known. The middle-aged woman talking to Harry glanced at the two young agents, giving the girl a sly smile. 

“I’m glad to know you didn’t punch Mr. Unwin on your way here, y/n” she said, as Eggsy went straight for his chair on Harry’s right side.

“I would’ve if you didn’t send me that text” The girl had moved to the woman’s side, backing up to the wall for support. She never made mention of pulling a chair.

“Well, y/n, I take as you already know Harry.” Said the woman, gesturing to the older man, who smiled sweetly. Yes, that’s right. Harry SMILED.

“Of course, The Great Harry Hart, the man of a thousand missions;” when Eggsy thought he couldn’t get more confused, y/n pulled this. “Everybody at the headquarters knows who you are.” And some - fucking – how, she sounded genuine, and not witty or arrogant as she appeared to be. Was that… admiration?

Seeing Eggsy’s confused expression, the older woman gave him a small smile, welcoming, but not too sweet; just like an agent is used to do.

“Galahad, I’m Yijun, or as my agents – or people who can’t bother to learn how to pronounce it - call me, Circe. I’m the head of Amethyst, the agency that y/n works for.”

Eggsy must have looked very confused, because Harry intervened, while pouring two more drinks, giving him one and sliding the other across the table, towards y/n.

“Yijun is an old friend, we met some weeks after she came from China. I was already a Kingsman, and was trying to bring her into the organization – just like I did with you – when she was recruited as an Amethyst trainee.”

“You knew?” Started Eggsy, a little bit of irritation shaping his words. After agent Whiskey, he knew better than not to trust Harry. But he couldn’t help the feeling of being a pawn. “Why did you let me go after her then?”

“I didn’t know the agent who saved you was y/n. All I knew was that she was an Amethyst, since the intervention was fast and clean.”

“-almost clean;” Yijun turned her chair to y/n, who was taking a sip out of her drink, still leant against the wall. “If Morgan’s work were perfect, you wouldn’t be able to find her.”

“Nobody’s perfect, but I try my best.” She shrugged. “’m still your best agent tho.”

“Please,” Merlin entered the room, an IPad in hands, ready to the briefing. “put the blame on me for being able to hack into almost anything, including London’s surveillance cameras. She did a wonderful job.”

Merlin stopped right in front of y/n, extending his hand for a handshake. She grabbed it immediately.

“Miss Le Fay. Hope our codenames won’t be a problem.” 

“I don’t see why, Sir Merlin. The witch from who I borrowed my name could very easily have been Merlin’s apprentice.”

No awkward pressure thing, from what Eggsy could see. Why were his interactions with her so bloody awful? For god’s sake, y/n was joking with Merlin!

It took him a moment to remember what history the two were referring to: Morgan Le Fay was a witch in King Arthur’s story, from where Kingsman got their codenames. Depending on the version, she can be portrayed as Merlin’s enemy, responsible for the death of King Arthur or as a powerful good woman, that had healing powers and could shape shift. For an organization like Amethyst, Eggsy supposed the second option was the one they had in mind.

Merlin greeted Yijun with a respectful “ma’am” before selecting something on his device, the projection of a document showing up on the wall above y/n.

“The techs over Amethyst sent us their reports on missing people, and turns out the man who you two,” Merlin looked at Eggsy and y/n. “saw is Adrian Bell. Seven months ago, he apparently went on a trip to India, but his family didn’t hear about him after he left. He never showed up on the airport camera footage.”

“So... he planned to disappear?” Interfered Eggsy.

“Apparently, yes. But there’s a problem.” Merlin changed the projection, it now being a series of pictures, especially ones where Bell hugged his family tightly, his wife crying, and his kids glued to his leg. It looked like a reunion. “He doesn’t remember anything and woke up asking for his family. His last memory was being in a bar and passing out. He thinks that he was in an alcoholic coma.”

Eggsy was about to ask a lot of questions, but Merlin had started talking again, while taking two Kingsman’s RayBans out of his pocket, giving each woman a pair. 

“I’ve made a partnership with the group of cooperative organizations led by Amethyst, also called D.E.A.R; Diamond, Emerald and Amethyst Relations -” Introduced Merlin, but Eggsy wasn’t really paying much attention to him. 

Instead, he was observing y/n, who hesitantly spun the glasses in her hands, analysing it, differently from Yijun, who just put them on right away. Her mouth twitched on the side, and she started to bite her tongue, as if trying to distract and put herself together. Y/n put them on, but kept looking down for some seconds, before fixing her posture and raising her head, crossing her arms, still leant against the wall on one shoulder.

It was quite weird seeing y/n wearing the glasses. Even though she had noting that could possibly remind him of Roxy, Eggsy couldn’t stop the deja vu of his best friend. A sad smile adorned his lips. He missed her.

A Kingsman-style hologram of a young 16-year-old girl appeared sitting on one of the chairs, big extravagant round sunglasses framing her face along with bright pink streaks on her brown hair. Although she was a teenager (and dressed like one, in a jean jacket and a white tee that said “girl power” in red), she sat perfectly straight, very professionally.

“Good evening, gentlemen. I’m Tonks, Emerald’s tech and field agent. I just came back from an information gathering mission.” which, as a previous Emerald’s agent, y/n knew was just a fancy description for attending parties. Nothing too dangerous, especially for Emerald’s missions, that were more based in socialization and keeping an eye on people. Actually, y/n was impressed that Tonks had something substantial to report (especially to Kingsman) in a high school party. “A group of unmatchable individuals seems to be working together, all of them acting really uncharacteristic and very patronized. I detected the group spiking other teen’s drinks. I managed to intervene and get a sample of it. Agent Spellman also reported a strange movement, alike the one I observed, with a college group. We sent the samples to our biotechs, and the lab concluded it was a modified Mikey Pinn.” The girl grabbed her phone and sent something, the IPhone message sound reverberating through the room. “Now you have access to our outhouse cameras, Merlin.” 

Merlin quickly changed the projection above y/n to eight squares of video that showed each teen in one small room, some asleep on the beds, some walking around nervously, and one passed out on the floor. Tonks started talking again.

“Spellman and I brought the group of high school and college students to our outhouse. Whatever drug they’re on soon will wear off, and then we’ll be able to analyse what happened to them.”

“Was that the first ever occurrence on your field, Tonks?” Asked Yijun, and then turned to the Kingsman’s, explaining; “Emerald agents that work on high schools usually only have to get in action to stop violence and abuse at their missions. Situations like what we’re dealing with right now is uncharacteristic.”

“No, Boss. Some students stopped going to classes suddenly, but we checked: they all were confirmed on exchange programs abroad. Apparently, they never went.”

Y/n wasn’t leant on the wall anymore. She’d walked to the table, bent over it, hands open, pressed on the cold wood, all her attention on Tonks. Tension.

“Who were the kids? High school and college. Why choose them?” She said.

Tonks flipped through her phone, messaging Merlin more documents - the ring once again filling the room - before answering.

“A rugby player, two perfect grade kids and a foreign student were the high school kids. Apparently, it’s a pattern: physically strong people and awarded students that stand out for their knowledge of exact sciences.”

“Have you tracked were they were drugged the first time?” Continued y/n.

“Not yet, but...”

“I did;” said Merlin, suddenly, typing on his IPad.

A new image showed up on the wall. The front of a bar that looked like it used to be fancy ten years ago. Now, the paint was coming off the walls, and the huge opaque black doors were rusted, chains and a big old padlock kept them closed. It had no name on the outside, only a broken light up waning crescent moon, just the inferior part working, shining in a weak yellow light.

Eggsy knew the place. Actually, every teen and young adult in London knew Moonz: the flat broke bar that let underage kids come in and drink. You didn’t even need a fake ID, they would pretend to not be able to do math and let kids in. In some months, it became domain of teens, turning into a considerably safe place for them to get drunk and party. Also, it was the cheapest place to get booze.

But the underage drinking caused a bigger problem; since it was illegal, the neighbourhood didn’t have a lot of cops because the owner kept them away. Consequently, Moonz’s location became a centre of violence, kidnapping, and other heavy crimes.

The young Galahad saw y/n turn to the projection in slow motion, the act of being casual being thrown out of the window. For Eggsy, she looked like a robot who got rebooted and installed a completely different system of command. When she spoke again, her voice was strong and deep.

“Tonks, do you know when it started?”

“It?” Asked Eggsy. 

“The kidnappings.” Y/n answered. “The fact that they were drugging others looks like it was a kidnapping system. In this context, those kids were “recruiting” more teens.” 

Tonks checked her phone.

“No, Morgan. We couldn’t track it. They apparently are the first ones to come back.”

“Shit.” Y/n paced around the room. “Boss, permission to do an observation and protection mission at Moonz.”

“Permission granted” nodded Yijun “take Galahad with you.”

“Yi, I don’t think the gentlemen can pass as a teenager.” Y/n had stopped walking. She looked straight into Eggsy’s eyes. “With all due respect...”

Yijun shook her head. 

“You know there are other ways to get him inside undercover.”

Y/n ran her fingers through her hair, taking a deep breath. Eggsy could almost hear her thinking “Fuck. Fine.”.

“C’mon Galahad, we’ve got a job to do.”

Eggsy and Y/n were almost out of the room when Yijun called her agent again.

“Oh and Y/n.” The girl turned around. “Don’t engage. I’ll send Emerald agents to protect the kids, but you and Galahad can’t have your covers blown up. Do. Not. Engage. Do you understand?”

All Y/n did was nod slightly.

If you made it to here, thank you so much! I hope it was worth your time! Some feedback would be appreciated, I really wanted to see if you liked this (dumb) Eggsy I’m presenting.... If you don’t want to be in the taglist anymore, I totally understand! Just message me :)

Also!!!! Feel free to message me any questions about the fic and this chapter! I have some fun reasons for choosing those codenames and Diamond, Emerald and Amethyst as the names for the organization!

Amethyst taglist

@a-dorky-book-keeper @50shadesofuncomfortable @arizonacolleen @infinity-of-high-dreaming @toasty-fish @pink-smarties @mc225g @dadd-ilf @sueeatstheworld @katorgatorgalaxy @the-ink-and-salt-club @incorrect-mcdanno @xelizabethvalentinex @ahyestheandersons @thatdamnokie @wxxnks @awesomewees @ryedikkulus @discodeak @clacestan @y-dadd

(If you got the notification again, sorry! I had a problem with the taglist and had to do it again!

[rocket-remmy]

Finish This|| Mercy and Remmy

TIMING: A Few Weeks Ago PARTIES: @cryxmercy and @whatsin-yourhead SUMMARY: Remmy enlists Mercy to help them take care of one of the Ring’s top leaders. CONTENT: Blood, gore, vomit

Remmy paced, for what seemed like the seventh time that day. They’d been doing a lot of pacing lately, as well. There were a lot of things to pace about, anyway. But this...this was really important. And it was more important that Remmy stayed calm during it. They didn’t know this Mercy person very well, but she seemed just as ready and eager to help as the others. There would hopefully be no explosions today, but Remmy understood that what they were going to do here was no less incriminating. But maybe if it wasn’t them, if they weren’t the one throwing the final blow, it would be easier. It could be easier, right? If someone else did it? They supposed they’d just have to find out. Down from the other side of the street came a blonde haired woman who looked just like the picture in her file-- Mercy. Remmy stopped pacing and stood up a little straighter. They gestured to her to come over to them without seeming too conspicuous. “Meryc?” they asked, even though they were pretty sure. “Remmy,” they held out their hand. “Um...thanks for helping me with this. I uh-- I’m pretty sure he’s inside this bar. Should we like...get him to come outside somehow?”

Mercy had no qualms when it came to making bad people pay their dues. She despised people that preyed on the weak, the helpless, and the innocent. Especially for profit. There was a special place in hell for those in particular. And Mercy had no problem sending them on their way. After her time fighting in the Ring, Mercy knew the types of people that had run the place. They were bad people. The man she was after tonight was especially so. She spotted someone who could only be Remmy - pacing a groove in the pavement - and made her way over when they gestured to her. Mercy grinned. “That’s me.” She shook Remmy’s hand firmly. “Good to meet you. And you’re welcome. But no thanks needed.” Mercy started putting her hair up in a ponytail. “Just seein’ this asshole get what he deserves is thanks enough.” Her eyes flicked to the bar, then back to Remmy. “We can,” she nodded. “Though if he recognizes us, he could run. Which means he might skip town. Plus side is neither of us can die if he decides to do something stupid like shoot at us. So there’s that.” Mercy sized up the bar as they talked, speculating how many people it might hold. “Or, on the flip side,” She glanced at Remmy to gauge their opinion. “- we can go in after him.”

Mercy had a confident air about her that reminded Remmy of Lydia a little bit. She had a focus, too, that reminded Remmy of their old Commander. They swallowed. “Go in...after him?” they asked, blinking a little in surprise. They rubbed the eye path over their left eye before glancing back inside the darkened windows. The man was sitting at the bar, and while there weren’t too many people inside, the worry of casualties vibrated in Remmy’s mind. “I-- I don’t want anyone else to get hurt. But...he would probably recognize us, you’re right. We-- we can’t let him run. If he gets away, then he’ll just try and start a new Ring. That’s our whole mission-- to stop that from happening. He has to--” they explained, but the last word stuck in their throat. Die. They knew it was true, they knew it needed to happen, but the thought still made them sick. But that was why Mercy was here, right? “Maybe we can use that to our advantage, though. Get him to come outside. One of us can, um-- go inside and scare him out while the other waits outside to stop him. Do you think that’d work?”

Mercy nodded. “Will he really expect someone to walk right up to him in a public place?” Though it was the ‘public’ bit that Mercy was worried about. Despite what the man had done, and what he deserved (and was going to get), if someone saw them or gods forbid, got video of them, doing what they came here to do, things could go very badly for them in the future. And Mercy didn’t want the headache of having to fix that sort of mess. For herself, and definitely not for Remmy. And while Mercy could live with a bit of collateral damage, she also didn’t want innocent bystanders hurt if they could help it. They weren’t a part of this. “Me either,” Mercy said of the bystanders. Remmy was right. If the asshole got away, he’d just rebuild elsewhere. But as Remmy spoke, Mercy got the feeling they weren’t too happy about what the end game had to be. She touched their shoulder gently. “I know. And he will,” she said, giving Remmy’s shoulder a small squeeze. 

Mercy glanced through the window as well, taking note of where the man was sitting before turning back to Remmy. “I think it’s perfect.” She glanced casually around the street. It was mostly vacant except for the odd late-night patron here and there. Most would be too drunk to think anything of a bar fight, or a scuffle on the street. “How about I go in and ruffle his feathers a bit, and when he runs - which he will - you take him down the second he comes out that door? Because I’m pretty sure he’s arrogant enough to believe you’ll never show your face around him again. He /might/ recognize me, but he probably won’t give a shit.” Mercy had the tiny advantage of being a familiar face from the Ring, but not ‘locked in a cage in the basement’ familiar. As far as this guy knew, Mercy gave zero fucks who he was, or what he did. And likely returned the sentiment. That too, was an advantage. But Mercy wanted to make sure Remmy was as okay as they could be before they got this thing started. Because once they did, there would be no stopping until it was over. 

Remmy didn’t know much about Mercy except what her file had on her and what they’d discussed online a little-- but the woman really did seem like she knew what she was doing, and she had bounds of confidence where Remmy found themself faltering. There was a palpable relief to their sigh when she offered to be the one to go inside and catch the man’s attention, because Remmy was more than sure they wouldn’t have been able to do it. But asking felt much more forceful, as if Remmy had asked her here simply to do all the work, and that wasn’t the truth at all. Nodding, they shuffled in their spot. “Yeah, that-- I can do that,” they said, looking from her to the window, watching the man inside. They rubbed their hands down the front of their jeans, as if they were sweaty, but knew they weren't-- they didn’t sweat anymore, which was a strange thing to have taken note of, but it was all the small things now, that made them realize how much they’d changed after dying. “I can do that,” they repeated for emphasis, glancing down the side alley. “Try and lead him out there if you can, more um-- out of the way.”

This wasn’t Mercy’s first rodeo… as the saying went. She’d flushed out more than her share of bad guys that thought they were untouchable. And had them begging for their mothers before she’d finished showing them how utterly mistaken they had been. Remmy however… Mercy couldn’t say for sure if this was their first time in such a situation, or if their nervousness - which was completely understandable - came from the thought of what was to come. Maybe both. Either way, Mercy had faith that Remmy would do what needed doing, even as their sigh of relief as Mercy offered to play bird dog didn’t slip past the Fury’s notice. So Mercy gave Remmy an encouraging smile. “You can do this.” Mercy’s eyes glanced towards the alley, and her smile slipped into something much more devious. “You got it, boss.” She turned for the door. “One scumbag comin’ up.”

Inside the bar, it smelled like stale cigarette smoke and cheap booze, with a faint undertone of body odor and something Mercy didn’t care to name. The floor was slightly sticky, and Mercy’s boots made a sound like peeling velcro as she approached the bar. The few other patrons sat at tables, alone or in small groups. A few of them watched her as she passed by, some well into their cups, others nursing a single, warm bottle of cheap beer, but otherwise no one paid her much attention. 

 She stopped at the old jukebox against the wall, scanning the selections with an air of bored indifference. Though she took the time to glanc at their target’s reflection in the jukebox’s grimy glass covering as she made her choice. He hadn’t moved a muscle other than to lift his bottle to his mouth and set it back on the bar. A bar - covered in a sticky film of gods knew what- Mercy was leaning heavily against a moment later as she ordered four double tequilas. 

They came just as the first bars of her selection started to play, and Mercy downed the first two  one after another, turning the glasses upside down on the bar. Bang, bang. The third followed, but more slowly. Mercy taking the time to swirl the clear liquor a few times before tipping it back with familiar ease. Bang. The fourth one… Mercy let it sit where it was. She ran her finger around the rim of the glass as the static hum of her power started to drift through the space around her. Searching for any cracks in her oblivious barmate’s armor, as it were. Only when she finally saw him shift in his seat did Mercy turn back her fourth shot. Bang. She swore the man’s hand tightened on his bottle. 

One finger still on the bottom of her now empty glass, she leaned slightly towards him. The air around her hummed with static. Mercy gave her glass a flick. It slid down the bar and clinked against the man’s bottle. It was only then that he finally looked up, and found himself face to face with Mercy. “You should be running, Robert Castenza.” In a flash, the Fury’s hand was around his wrist - his skin was like ice - and she let the full force of her influence pour into him. “You should be running now.” 

Remmy, I hope you’re ready...

 Remmy paced. Again. They had taken to the side door, figuring if they were trying to run from someone and not be noticed or recognized, that’s what they’d do. They just hoped the man inside was the same. Wringing their hands together, they prepared for what was about to happen. They couldn’t entirely see inside anymore, but they’d propped the door open enough to hear what was going on. Mercy was making her way through the bar, the sounds echoing out into the alley and bouncing off the walls. Remmy glanced around, before taking up a position behind the door. Closed their eyes as they prepared for what was about to happen. They could do this, they had to do this. Hands tightening, wringing together. They drew in a deep breath, letting the feel of air in their lungs, their throat, remind them what they were. What they were doing this for. The pain they’d endured, and the things they’d had to do. The blood on their hands because of it. Ben’s face flashing behind their eyelids, and then Jax. They needed justice. They needed to end this.

Heavy footsteps sounded near the door. Remmy’s eyes flew open just as the door did, and they stumbled back a little, surprised at the hulking form that came through. He was...bigger than he looked. They could see the stitches holding him together, like a bad frankenstein costume or something. Nothing seemed to match, even under his clothes. Remmy drew in a breath, reeled back-- and swung their fist right into his stomach. He doubled back, swerving to try and find who had thrown the punch. c5zAn anger flared through him and Remmy drew back into themself a little. He recognized them. Remmy stood, frozen. He raised his fist, high above their head, ready to strike. And all Remmy could do was close their eyes and wait for the hit, hoping Mercy would get there soon. They weren’t sure they could do this alone.

No one in the bar so much as looked up from their drink as Castenza bolted. Mercy didn’t move a muscle either. Even her fingers stayed poised, frozen in place where an ice cold wrist, criss-crossed with rough lines of stitches, had just been. She took a slow breath - in and then out - before she slid off her stool and followed.  

Mercy didn’t run. There was no need. Not yet. 

Castenza headed for the back door, bursting through it without hesitation. But not without resistance. The man’s hulking form rocked back as Remmy made contact. Mercy grinned. It was a savage, cold thing, without humor or warmth. The door to the alley swung loosely on broken hinges, and Mercy saw Remmy’s silhouette standing in the dark. Saw them take a step back as recognition sparked in Castanza’s eyes. 

There was a beat where everything seemed to slow down. In that beat, the hulking man raised his fist, intent on smashing Remmy’s skull in. But he never got the chance. Moonlight flashed as something hissed through the air. There was a sound like raw meat slapping against wet pavement, and Castenza staggered forwards, his size and momentum putting him off-balance as his fist never made contact. It lay on the filthy pavement, along with most of his forearm, severed just below the elbow. 

“Ah, ah, ah...” Mercy stepped from the shadows into the moonlight. “That’s not nice.” Gore oozed from the end of a wickedly-sharp blade held loosely in her right hand. A bit had splattered her cheek. She didn’t seem to notice as she glanced briefly at Remmy, giving them a steadying nod, before turning back to Castenza, who was already recovering. He was a monstrosity of a man, towering over Mercy and Remmy both, and patched together like some insane Mary Shelley fever dream. And he wasn’t going down easy. Something huge and dark was suddenly blocking her line of sight, and Mercy ducked out of the way just in time to avoid being crushed by the steel dumpster that had been thrown at them in a show of pure, brute strength. It hit the alley wall with a deafening, metallic screech. Huge chunks of bricks and mortar were torn free, a few falling on top of Mercy. She shielded herself from the worst of the debris, and pushed to her feet, ignoring the rest.  

Her focus was already turning to the sound of heavy boots retreating down the alley. A glance down told her the severed arm was also gone. 

She called out to Remmy, hoping they were nearby and unharmed.

Castenza was running. 

One moment, Remmy was ducking, the next, they were jumping out of the way of a dumpster. It all was happening so fast, too fast. Rock sprayed into them and they threw their hands up to shield their eyes, somehow knowing it wouldn’t entirely matter if they got pelted with the stuff. But getting crushed wasn’t an option. They looked around wildly for Mercy, but she was already moving away from them, down the alley after the large man. Er, zombie. Shaking themself free of their trance, Remmy leapt into action. They reached out with one hand and grabbed whatever was nearest to them-- a wooden pallet-- and knocked it to the ground in front of the lumbering giant. His foot connected with it, stuck in between two boards he crushed with his weight, and he went teetering down. Remmy leapt up and out of the way again, kicking out and catching the monstrosity of a man square in the chin. His body finally teetered over, coming down with a hard crash, and Remmy looked up for the blonde woman. 

“Here!” they shouted, jumping on top of the man, trying to slow him from standing up before she got there. They knew with one easy squeeze, one easy pop! They could pull his head clean off if they wanted-- they had the strength right now. But the thought sent their heart plummeting into their stomach, distracting them enough to let the other zombie reach behind him, grab a fistful of their shirt, and yank them off. Remmy’s body collided hard with the alley wall and they came crashing down on a pile of garbage cans, clattering loudly. “The head!” they shouted blearily, crawling out from under the cans, “y-you have to go for the head!”

Castenza didn’t run far. He stumbled as Remmy blocked his path with something heavy and cumbersome, and started to go down. A moment later, Mercy saw Remmy’s smaller form strike the huge man hard enough to put him on his back. Mercy’s feral grin slipped back into place. What she could do with strength like that. Though despite Remmy’s formidable blows, Castenza was stronger. So Mercy moved a bit faster. He wouldn’t get away a second time. 

There was a moment when Mercy thought Remmy might end things themselves, and if that were the case, Mercy would let them. But a single moment of hesitation can be fatal. Mercy didn’t flinch as Remmy was flung into the wall. They were more indestructible even than Mercy, and could hold their own. Mercy did, however, listen to what Remmy said. Go for the head. 

The Fury spun her sword, readjusting her grip as she bore down on the patchwork monster struggling to his feet. He swung at her, wielding a broken piece of the wooden pallet. The sharpened edge sliced across Mercy’s thigh, and blood poured from the wound, a dark stain that spread far too quickly. Mercy grunted - it fucking hurt - but didn’t falter. She severed the man’s remaining hand with a swing of her blade. The limb, still holding the bloody piece of the pallet, fell to the ground.

The monstrosity screamed his rage at her. The lower half of his jaw followed his arm, turning the rage to a muted gurgle. Mercy lay the edge of her sword against what remained of the man’s jaw. Remmy was moving nearby, but Mercy didn’t look at them. If they were moving, they were alive. 

Mercy’s attention was focused on the evil monster at her feet. The air around her began to hum with static. The darkness became darker, thicker even as it seemed to shift and blur. And then, from the nothing of the ether, a great pair of dusky wings spread out from the Fury’s back. Silent and ethereal, they were as intangible as the chaotic roll of storm clouds and fog that swirled around them, fading in and out as they seemed to flex and move in time with the Fury now fully absorbed in the turmoil of the man in front of her. 

The alley smelled of sulfur and old, forgotten things as Mercy finally spoke. 

“‘For the Angel of Death spread her wings… and breathed in the face of the foe as he passed…’” The Fury let her blade slip against the soft flesh of Castenza’s throat. His eyes went even wider, and he tried to strike at Mercy, shaking his head in a vain attempt to make her stop. But without arms, the effort only served to push the blade deeper into his flesh. Mercy - fully taken by her power - merely continued, holding the man’s gaze with her own, her face losing all semblance of warmth. “‘And the eyes of the sleepers waxed deadly and chill, and their hearts but once heaved, and for ever grew still.’” 

The blade flashed again, this time with deadly intent. Gore arched across the brick wall as Mercy severed Castenza’s head from his shoulders. His body lurched to the side, falling in a limp heap next to his severed arm. His head rolled a few feet away. Mercy cleaved it in half. When nothing moved, Mercy finally turned to look back at Remmy. 

She gave them a slow, solemn nod. “It’s done.”

 As they watched, Remmy put a hand to their throat. The man was crying, begging, gurgling. He wanted them to stop. He didn’t want to die. Remmy closed their eyes when it happened. Flinched when they heard the thud. Remembered that they, too, were at the mercy of a hunter’s blade slicing their throat. Immortal did not mean unkillable. When they opened their eyes next, Mercy had turned to them. She was bleeding, wounded, but standing fine. Remm swallowed, moved from their spot, and hobbled over to the body, the severed head. “W-we…” they paused, feeling the words lump in their throat, sand on their tongue, “we have to b-burn the body. Just in-- just in case.” They hated the idea of it, but it had to be done. 

They looked down at the body once more. Black blood oozed from its neck and Remmy remembered laying on the floor of the Ring, blood oozing from their stomach after the gargoyle had torn them in half. They remembered the smell and they remembered how it felt and they clutched their stomach, turning and retching behind one of the dumpsters. They fell to their knees, shaking for a moment, before they wiped their mouth and bit their lip. “S-sorry, I’m sorry. I said I was okay with this, I’m sorry,” they muttered. 

Such was the way of most evil things when faced with their own inevitable end. Begging, pleading, bargaining. Crying out to whatever nameless deity they thought would save them in their final moments. But that salvation never came. Mercy knew better than most that Death is the only god who ever comes when called.  

As Castenza met his own end, the raging turmoil that had fueled Mercy’s power began to fade. It had been a very long time since her true nature had grabbed hold so strongly. And it took Mercy a moment to shake loose, to remember where she was and why. But soon enough she came back to herself, ethereal wings fading, her mind once again mostly her own. She wiped her blade clean on her jeans and tucked it away, out of sight beneath her jacket, as she stared down at the headless corpse. 

Remmy was right to think that immortal didn’t mean unkillable. Everything that existed could be killed, if one knew how. Mercy watched them as they moved to join her, and for a moment they both stared down at the mess that had once been a person. A monstrous, evil person, but a person nonetheless. Burning the remains was a failsafe that Mercy agreed with. “We can use one of these dumpsters. And then the pallet for starter fuel.” She could even go back inside for a bottle of something flammable if the dried wood didn’t take. Either way, no one in this part of town was going to care about one random dumpster fire. 

Before they could set about the task, however, Remmy suddenly moved away. The sounds of retching weren’t lost on Mercy. She gave them a moment, frowning slightly, before coming over and squatting down next to them. Mercy held out a clean handkerchief for Remmy to take if they wished.  

“Don’t ever be sorry for not being okay.” Mercy’s voice was gentle, though the words were spoken with soft conviction; a firmness that held no condescension or pity of any sort. Only truth. “And fuck anyone that says you should be.” Mercy glanced back at what remained of Castenza. “I can clean this up,” she said, turning back to Remmy, “if you’d rather head home. Up to you.” It wouldn’t be the first time the Fury had disposed of a body, and it probably wouldn’t be the last. But whatever Remmy wanted to do, whatever they needed to do, Mercy would support that. 

 Remmy looked blearily up at Mercy when she handed them a handkerchief. They took it gently, but didn’t use it yet, squeezing it tightly in their hand, as if it were the only thing anchoring them to this moment, to the ground. They unraveled it slowly and pressed it to their face, looking back at the parts of the monster-- no, the man-- dispersed on the ground. Something wavered inside of them, that pull that told them they did not want any of this anymore. But that also told them this was their life now. They knew they couldn’t have it both ways, they couldn’t sit and be passive, but still make exceptions. Make excuses. They needed to decide, one way or another, what kind of person they wanted to be. If they wanted to let this world swallow them up like this, or if they wanted something else. Something...better. 

Finally, Remmy paused, looking up at Mercy. “No, I--” they started, swallowed as more bile rose up their throat. They had decided. “I need to finish this.” One last act, and maybe, with this body, they could burn away the violence in their heart as well.

Mercy waited patiently as Remmy worked through whatever thoughts were tumbling through their head. It was easy to forget that death wasn’t something most people were faced with on a regular basis. And that even less were faced with the choice of taking a life. And while Mercy felt no remorse for the dead man behind them - in her eyes, it was his own choices that had brought him down this path - she did feel the sharp pain of it for Remmy. Not for what had occurred here tonight - Remmy  had made that choice of their own free will - but for the events that had led them here in the first place. For the horrors they had endured - and the atrocities they’d witnessed - that made the taking of a life the lesser of many, many evils. 

But it was done, and there was no changing it. So when Remmy made their choice, Mercy gave them a slow nod before standing and holding out her hand. Hopefully, tonight would help Remmy find the closure they needed. And that so many others needed as well.  

[syntaxeme]

One Good Turn ch. 3

[Read on AO3] | [First Chapter] | [Next Chapter] Rating: T Story summary: Angel’s clean streak is broken when Val forcibly calls him back to the studio. On principle (and not at all out of concern for Angel's wellbeing), Alastor takes it upon himself to free Angel from Valentino's control. But what started as a simple favor becomes something much more complicated, all because of an innocent thank-you kiss.

— — – 

Some part of Alastor knew it wasn’t entirely fair to judge a person—or a demon, as the case may be—by the company he keeps. That is, the fact that Valentino chose to associate with that tasteless hack Vox did not necessarily mean that he too was uncultured vermin. It was damning, certainly, but not definitive. This was a moot point, however, as there was already sufficient evidence to prove Valentino was trash, his friendship with Vox notwithstanding.

“It looks like after several months supposedly on the straight and narrow, adult film star and well-known coke whore Angel Dust has finally fallen completely off the wagon!” Katie Killjoy’s aggressively cheerful voice blared from the television set up in the hotel’s lobby, where all the hotel’s residents had gathered for news of their missing compatriot. Alastor could just imagine that vicious smile plastered on her face as she commentated over a video of Angel in a darkened club drinking himself to sickness, Angel doing lines and laughing coldly as a demon at his side passed out, Angel knelt in the darkened interior of a limousine and flipping off paparazzi while Valentino held him close with a ubiquitous grin.

Valentino was a common factor in all these scenarios, in fact, whether pouring liquor down Angel’s throat, handing him off to a…client, or simply watching in amusement while he drowned himself in sin. It had been three weeks, nearly four, since that limo had arrived and whisked Angel back to his old life of leisure and pleasure, and it seemed clear that Valentino was intent on keeping him there. Perhaps all the drugs and alcohol were meant to keep him compliant. And it seemed to be working a treat.

“It just goes to show that every soul here in Hell is here for a reason,” the reporter went on, “and that no misguided attempts at redeeming them will ever bear fruit. Looking at you, Princess Charlotte!”

Charlie’s eyes were locked on the TV, both hands covering her mouth, and Alastor could see tears starting to well in her eyes. Vaggie tried to console her, but she simply shut her eyes tight and dropped her head, withdrawing into herself rather than showing all the pain she must be feeling. That was a smart move, strategic, but not at all aligned with her personality.

“Damn it, Angel was here longer than any of us,” one of the other patrons complained loudly. “If he couldn’t hack it, what chance do the rest of us have?”

“Oh, come now, my good fellow, that’s hardly the spirit of self-improvement we strive for here at the Hazbin,” Alastor crowed, waltzing over to drape his arm over the pessimistic demon’s shoulders. “Have some confidence! Have some fortitude! Why, I assure you no one is more distraught over our dear friend Angel’s defection than I, but I refuse to allow my melancholy to keep me from progressing toward—”

“Alastor, will you just…save it?” Charlie barked, surprising everyone in the room into silence (other than the television, unfortunately). She looked up at him with a tearful snarl, fingers curling into helpless claws. “I know you don’t care about any of this, I know you think of it as a joke, but losing Angel isn’t something to laugh about. He was doing so well. I really thought he…” She took a deep, shuddering breath and shut her eyes. “I feel stupid enough already. You don’t have to rub it in.” She left the room with her head down, and as usual, the others followed her lead, dispersing to their respective rooms and leaving Alastor alone with 666 News’s mocking jingle.

Well. That certainly hadn’t gone to plan. If Charlie thought he was intentionally digging at her for Angel’s unfortunate regression, she was sorely mistaken. Much to his own surprise, he truly was quite bothered by Angel’s absence, either because he disliked the hotel’s naysayers having any further ammunition against them or because none of their other patrons had such a defined and entertaining personality. He also didn’t much care for the knowledge that the very independent and unfettered Angel Dust was evidently being toted about like a marionette, with Valentino holding the strings.

With some reluctance, Vaggie had shared with him the stories Angel had told of his relationship with Val. There was no secret in the fact that Valentino used him for sex and money, no pretense of fair play or equality between them. It was with far more trepidation that Angel admitted exactly how imbalanced in power they were, how insistent Valentino could be on controlling his every move. And if he disobeyed, if he rebelled, if he refused any order, the Overlord wouldn’t hesitate to ‘lay down the law.’ Alastor could only guess, based on how frightened Angel had seemed when they’d last seen each other, exactly what that implied.

He had since done some further research on exactly who Valentino was and what function he served in Hell. How many associates he had. Who might seek revenge if some unfortunate accident were to befall him. That was, of course, how his association with Vox had become clear, which complicated matters a bit more. Slaughtering one Overlord for the sake of bringing Angel back into the fold and restoring his autonomy was one thing; Alastor had killed people for less. Murdering an Overlord to whom Vox had some ostensible connection was another entirely. Was Alastor willing to risk a genuine threat for the sake of this farce, this naïve, hellish sitcom Charlie was staging?

Difficult to say.

…

Later in the evening, while Alastor sat awake in bed contemplating his options, a faint scratching from downstairs caught his ear. It was unlikely any of the others would hear it, but being so attuned to the sounds of his surroundings as he was, it didn’t escape his notice. He sat a few moments longer, wondering if it might be another drunken imp crawling home after a few shots too many. But the sound persisted, a scratch scratch scratch, as if of claws scraping the front door’s flawless enamel.

With a sigh, he slipped through the shadows and down the stairs to open the door, shocked to find a disheveled Angel Dust collapsed on the doorstep. Or maybe ‘disheveled’ was too mild a word. His face was bruised and smudged with blood, his torn clothing even more revealing than usual, his breathing shallow as if every inhale caused him further pain. To be plain, he looked rather like shit. And his condition was utterly fascinating.

“Angel?” Alastor knelt to observe him more closely: his hazy eyes, the blood leaking from the corner of his mouth, the way his hand still absently scrabbled toward the door. He almost seemed unaware that he was no longer alone. When Alastor rested a hand on his shoulder, he flinched away.

“No!” he said weakly. “No, I’ll be…I’ll…” He blinked quickly, trying to clear his vision, and the fear on his face faded into confusion. “Alastor?”

“That is my name; don’t wear it out,” Alastor chuckled, unsure of how to approach this situation with anything other than his usual nonchalance. “Are you all right? I’ll be honest: you aren’t looking your best.”

“Yeah, thanks, jackass,” Angel grumbled, struggling to push himself up, all four arms shaking under his slight weight.

“May I ask what happened?” He was terribly curious. It must have something to do with Valentino, but what? It was clear Angel had been beaten, but by whom?

“Doesn’t matter. Just help me get to my room, will ya?”

Alastor remained exactly where he was, raising an eyebrow. “Oh, are you back to stay? Is this a pattern you’re developing, spending some time ‘clean’ before relapsing and leaving us without a word for months or longer? A classic cycle for addicts, I’m told.” If Valentino had truly been holding him against his will, these accusations would hardly be fair, but Alastor got the feeling that wasn’t exactly what had happened.

“Fine, don’t help me then.” Angel managed to force himself to his feet—which were bare—and clung to the door to take one shaking step inside. As he tried to take another, he wavered and collapsed. By reflex, Alastor moved to support him. But Angel surprised him by shoving away, so roughly that he threw himself to the ground.

“Keep your fuckin’ hands off me!” he shouted, leaving the lobby in charged silence thereafter. Despite the unexpected reaction, or maybe because of it, Alastor’s smile widened slightly at the edges. He did enjoy a good surprise, if he was honest, and it was interesting to imagine what might have happened to make Angel of all people averse to being touched. After a moment of stillness, the tension melted from Angel’s body, and he lowered his head slowly. “Sorry. I ain’t had the best luck with men lately.”

Oh, do I fall under that category? “Think nothing of it. Though it’ll be harder to help you upstairs if you don’t want me touching you.”

“It’s fine. Just don’t get fuckin’ handsy,” Angel muttered, holding out one hand and allowing Alastor to take it to help him up.

“I’m sure you know already that I wouldn’t dream of it.” Again, he laughed, helping Angel slowly and cumbersomely across the lobby to enter the elevator.

“Ya know, for once, I appreciate that about you.” Angel had chosen a room at the very top of the hotel on his initial arrival, determined to be as far from the others as possible, citing ‘beauty rest’ and ‘mind your business’ as his reasoning. Regardless of his absence, Niffty had still included the room in her usual cleaning schedule, possibly in the hopes that he would be back. When they reached room 723 and he managed to locate his key, he swung the door open to a room decorated in shades of pink rather like Angel himself. While he stumbled inside to seat himself on the bed and let out a sigh of relief, Alastor lingered in the doorway, his curiosity unsatisfied.

“Where have you been?” he asked, making a conscious effort at sincerity in his tone.

“Ain’t you been watchin’ the news?” Angel scoffed. “I been everywhere. Didn’t even fuckin’ know half the time, Val kept me so—” He stopped himself, wrapping his arms around his lengthy body and staring down at his lap. “I bet Charlie’s pissed.”

“Now, I’m sure you know her better than that.”

“Yeah. But ‘disappointed’ is even worse. I didn’t want…” He shook his head in frustration. “It’s Val. I can’t think straight when he’s around. He gets in your head, y’know?”

“In your head, maybe,” Alastor agreed. “Yes, that’s how it seems.”

“You wanna talk about ‘cycles’? You wanna talk about ‘patterns’? It’s him. It’s always fuckin’ him.” Even with his mouth set in a furious sneer, a tear streaked down his face, and he quickly brushed it away. “He’s been real careful about keepin’ his eye on me this time. Keepin’ me happy or strung-out or shitfaced enough that I can’t argue with him. Guess he slipped up tonight.”

After a moment’s hesitation, Alastor stepped fully into the room and closed the door behind him, then went to lean against the wall opposite Angel and watch him closely. It almost sounded as if he wanted to talk about what he’d just gone through at Valentino’s hands, and if that was the case, Alastor was happy to listen. ��What happened tonight?” he prompted. “If Valentino has made such an effort to keep you under control, how did you come to be back here at the hotel?”

“Luck, maybe? I mean, if you can call it lucky to get the shit kicked outta you,” Angel said with a mirthless laugh. His eyes lingered on Alastor, studying him as if trying to guess what ulterior motives he might have for staying in the room. “I dunno. Val had some business to take care of tonight. The kinda business he doesn’t like me gettin’ involved in. So he…loaned me out to a buddy of his. Vox. He—”

Angel’s tale cut off with a cringe as the usual ambient buzzing about Alastor’s person jumped into a harsh screech of static. His sharp smile stayed fixed as firmly as ever, his eyes wide as he tried to process this new information. He hadn’t realized that Vox was personally involved in all this, but the knowledge muddied his feelings on the entire subject somewhat. Where was all this anger coming from, he wondered? Was it the idea of Vox enjoying anything that he so resented? Was it the concept of Angel Dust being passed around between Overlords without any say in the matter? Maybe it was the thought that he was somehow enabling Vox to take advantage of Angel by not confronting Valentino sooner.

Very difficult to say.

After several seconds of tension, he managed to subdue the scratch and static back to its typical lingering presence. “I’m sorry, please continue,” he said pleasantly. “You’ve been…involved with Vox, then?”

“Sorta.” Angel was still watching him warily, like he expected another sudden outburst at any moment. “You know him?”

“We’re acquainted.” Another brief crackle of static. “We’re of different minds on a few issues. I didn’t know he was a part of Valentino’s business.”

“He’s not exactly. Doesn’t like gettin’ his hands dirty; he just likes to watch,” Angel explained. Yes, that fit the understanding of Vox’s character that Alastor had developed over the years. Always watching, observing, storing information for later use. Parasite. “It’s not like anything was different this time. It’s how he always is. Him and his guys. Usually four or five of ‘em. But I guess he didn’t like Val’s plan to keep me drugged and drunk all the time. What’s the point if I don’t scream, right?” His voice had turned hard, cold, and his clawed fingers dug into the bedspread beneath him.

Realizing that this topic had become an unpleasant one for both of them, Alastor began, “Angel, if you’d rather not—”

“Oh no, you started this,” Angel snapped back, shooting him a glare. “You wanted to know. The least you can do is let me finish.” He was right, of course. Alastor inclined his head and gestured for Angel to go on. “Anyway, those demons that work for him ain’t really the gentle type. And I was comin’ down from like, three different highs at once, so I already felt like garbage before they got their hands on me. Guess I complained one time too many.” He absently reached up to touch the bruise on his cheekbone, wincing slightly at the pressure.

“Once they were done with me, once Vox looked the other way, I snuck out. I got a cab, but I didn’t have any cash on me, so…” He shrugged, leaving it up to Alastor’s imagination as to how he paid for the ride. This may have been the first time he’d seen Angel so blasé toward—even uncomfortable with—the subject of sex. “I couldn’t think of anywhere else to go. Don’t worry, Val’s probably gonna send one of his guys to pick me up once he realizes I’m gone, so I won’t be here causin’ trouble for long.”

Alastor pushed off the wall and strode over to the bed to stand in front of Angel. Recalling how badly he had responded to being touched earlier, he made sure to move slowly and carefully as he trailed his fingertips up the edge of Angel’s chin to make him look up. “Is that what you want? To go back to Valentino?”

“Wh-what?” Angel was apparently having difficulty following the turn this conversation had just taken, his face flushed as he stared up at the Radio Demon with wide eyes.

“Do you want to go back to him?” Alastor repeated, absently licking the pad of his thumb to wipe the dried blood away from the corner of Angel’s mouth. Such a waste. Angel started to lean into the touch, but it ended before he could do so. “If and when he sends an escort to retrieve you, do you plan to cooperate?”

“What else am I gonna do?” Shaking his head, leaning back slightly, Angel pointed out, “You don’t know what he’s like, Al. He doesn’t like bein’ told ‘no,’ and he doesn’t like lettin’ go of shit that belongs to him. I ain’t got much choice.”

“Just humor me for a moment and suppose that you do,” Alastor insisted, gesturing airily as he spoke. “Suppose you had the option to either go back to his studio and live a relatively comfortable and indulgent life with few personal freedoms or stay here, focus on your rehabilitation, and work with us to support the hotel’s efforts. Which would you prefer?”

The answer was almost immediate. “If there was a way for me to not be Val’s little fuckin’ boy toy anymore, sure, I’d take it in a heartbeat.”

Alastor’s smile widened considerably. “That is exactly what I was hoping to hear. And as co-manager of the hotel, it’s my duty to eliminate any and all obstacles to our patrons’ recovery, is it not? Consider your account with Valentino settled, my friend, and try to get some rest. We’ll be expecting you back in sessions tomorrow.”

“Wait. Wait a minute!” Angel grabbed his wrist as he started to leave, and although he wrenched away from the touch, he did pause. “What’re you sayin’? You’re not gonna go after him, are ya?”

“I plan to have a conversation with him,” Alastor said honestly. “I’m hoping he’s a reasonable fellow and will understand the situation without the need for things to get messy. If he doesn’t, however…” The room darkened slightly, highlighting the glow of his eyes. “I̶ ̢w̸i̷l͡l m͞ak̸e ͘h͜i͏m ͝uǹd҉e̶rst҉an͠d.”

“Don’t.” Angel was visibly unnerved by seeing his cheerful demeanor slip, but it didn’t stop him from protesting. “Seriously. I know you’re supposed to be this big powerful Overlord and all, but Val is no joke. Whatever you think you’re gonna get out of threatening him—”

“Are you trying to protect him?”

“No. I’m tryin’ to protect—” He ran a hand through his hair with an irritated groan. “It’s not worth it. I’m sayin’ if he’s pissed at me, I should be the one dealing with it. I don’t want you or Charlie or anybody here to get hurt cuz of my personal bullshit.” As the words were coming out of his mouth, he seemed to slowly realize what he was saying, just as Alastor did the same.

“Why Angel Dust,” the Radio Demon purred, surprised but delighted. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but that sounded very much like the virtue of Kindness. Maybe even Humility. You might be closer to redemption than I thought.” What an interesting development!

“Oh, shut the hell up!” Angel hissed, flushing even darker now and grabbing a heart-shaped throw pillow from the bed to toss it at Alastor. “Get outta my room, you dick.”

“Hmm, and just when we were starting to get along.” He dodged another pillow and swept out of the room, stealing one last glance at the blush on Angel’s cheeks before pulling the door shut behind him. As much as he appreciated the sentiment, he planned to ignore the advice not to approach Valentino.

It’s not worth it, Angel had said. I’m not worth it, was what he meant. That was likely another lingering effect of Valentino’s influence, one he would be better off without. Beyond that, Alastor had already said that he would take care of the problem, and he had a firm policy against the breaking of promises.

[bssaz97]

Post RWBY AU: Training Pains Part 1

* I decided to make another post in this AU as I’m captivated by it at the moment. Hope you guys will like more of Rowan.*

There was a time in everyone’s life where all their hard work was rewarded with either victory, accomplishment, or satisfaction.

...Today wasn’t one of those days.

- Signal Academy, Training Room -

Rowan: Aaaahh! Oof!

Rowan was thrown across the stage and landed on the ring’s wall. A buzzer goes off signaling the end of a sparring match. A match Rowan lost.....again. With a grunt the young red head got up off the floor and picked up his practice scythe. The instructor, a older woman in her mid 60s with graying black hair. She walks to the center stage with a clip board and a smile on her face.

Mrs. Hutchison: Very good. Another excellent match for you Peri, you saw your opponent’s openings and you made swift advantage of them.

Peri: Thank you mam.

The young boy named Peri, who welded dual swords sheathed his weapon with a smile. When he looks at Rowan his friendly smile was replaced with a smug grin. This was his third match with Peri and boy did his fellow classmate loved holding that over his head. Like it was an accomplishment for him.

In front of instructors, Peri was an obedient and excelling student, but when they weren’t watching his personality changed and he had the tendency to act like a...what was that word Mr. Whitley would call people who are arrogant and rude...‘duckhead?’ Yeah something like that. Anyway, Peri was one of the top students in the class and had won five fights in the first month of his first year, three of which were against him. Peri made it a point to hold that over his head and call him a ‘second rate’ fighter and a huntsman wannabe. Well he wasn’t wrong about his fighting ability.

Rowan was not a bad student academically or physically during his first month at Signal, but he was ashamed to admit that he was...‘trash’ with a scythe. Rowan only wanted to be like his mom and started to train with a scythe but while training with her was good, it became apparent that he was not as making any progress with her teachings. What made today worse was that his aunt was overseeing the match from the back of the class. Something about being there for moral support but he had the suspicion that she had an alternative motive. Especially since she’s been eyeing Peri after he did a certain maneuver that flips him on his back.

Mrs. Hutchison: Rowan, Mr. Rowan!

Rowan: Huh?

Class:(Starts uproariously laughing)

Mrs. Hutchison: Well Rowan, have you been paying attention to what I was saying you would have heard that while you are an a quick to your feet against your opponent, you are lack skill in landing a hit on your opponent. Also your scythe technique is...less to be desired. I would suggest that you either spend time after school in the training room or change to another weapon choice.

Rowan: Thank you mam.

*Riiiiinnnnggg*

Mrs. Hutchison: Alright children remember that your other classes will begin their first exams in two weeks so it’s advisable to study for them. You’re all dismissed. Well, except you Mr. Rowan I need to have a brief word with you and your aunt in my office, if you would please. Your mother will also be here shortly.

Rowan: ....Yes mam.

- Mrs. Hutchison’s Office -

Ruby walks into the office of the older teacher and sees her sister and son there waiting for her to arrive.

Mrs. Hutchison: Ah Miss Rose thank you for coming it is a pleasure for you to join us today.

Ruby: Thank you Mrs. Hutchison, it’s good to see you too. Wish it was during different circumstances though. You said you had something to speak to me about Rowan’s performance in combat class?

Mrs. Hutchison: Yes, I’m afraid it’s not good news. You see Rowan here has lost three matches in the first month of the class since he started. While he is academically excelling in the lecture side of this class, I’m afraid that if he loses another match, he could be at risk of failing my class.

Ruby/Yang: What?!

Ruby: But I thought the total number of lost matches for a student to fail was five. There must be a mistake.

Mrs. Hutchison: I wish there was, and you are correct that the original number was five while you two were students was five. But the school changed that rule when the council amended new regulations to the combat school curriculum. Unfortunately, the changes that came saw fit to create more effective hunters by lessening the number of loss matches from five to three.

Yang: Create more eff-they want to make better hunters by increasing the chances of failing. That’s stupid!

Mrs. Hutchison: I agree, I tried to have Signal request a appeal for the amendment to be revoked or at least changed but I was out voted. I’ll be honest with you ladies, I don’t want to do this to your son, he is a very sweet boy, very honest and hardworking. However, if Rowan does not improve in his combat class it could cost him his grade for the first year.

Both Ruby and Yang look at each other, showing much concern about the situation. They would have to think of something if they wanted to help Rowan get through the first year.

Yang: When will his next match be?

Mrs. Hutchison: ...two weeks.

Ruby/Yang: *thinking* ‘Shit...’

- Rose Household -

Yang had given her scroll to Ruby to look at the footage she took from the fight and both watched how the fight went down. Ruby wanted to be supportive of her son in all things that he did, but this was particularly difficult to watch. Her maternal instincts were telling her that she should have prepared Rowan better from his training with her and Yang. However, her huntress side was critiquing on how her son had missed many of his attempted strikes and was lugging his practice scythe all over the arena. Eventually she reaches the end of the video, Ruby gives Yang back her scroll and presses her finger tips together to gather her thoughts.

Ruby: ......I didn’t want to believe it but she’s right. Rowan’s fighting skills are not up to par.

Yang: Yeah, I don’t even think you had it this bad when you first started.

Ruby: Yeah....Hey!

Yang: Ruby if anything that was a compliment. I’m looking at this and I can already tell that Rowan’s getting his ass whooped every match. Especially with that Peri kid. He’s not great, but with Rowan’s fighting it makes him look good.

Ruby: Oh my poor baby, he’s probably feels so discouraged right now. But I don’t know how to help him, I’m doing everything that Qrow taught me when I was doing badly but it doesn’t seem the training is transferring as smoothly to him as it did me. What could I be doing wrong?~ (Places head in her arms on the table)

Yang: Look I know this might not be something you want to hear but, maybe we should get an outside opinion.

Ruby: What? What do you mean?

Yang: Well, what I’m saying is that maybe the reason he’s struggling so hard is because ...we’re going soft on him.

Ruby: Wait, are you saying that the reason Rowan is losing his fights is because we’re too soft in training? That’s ridiculous!

Yang: Look Sis, I don’t want to admit it, but I have seen how you’ve been training him. I can assure you that you are not going as tough as you should be.

Ruby: That’s.....ok maybe I have been taking it easy on him but it’s only his first month. I didn’t know I’d be setting him back this much. Oh, maybe you’re right, we should get a outside opinion.

Yang: And I know just who to call!

*3 hours later*

Whitley: ....Yeah the kid sucks. (Gives Yang back her Scroll)

Ruby: You could have sugarcoat it a little.

Whitley: I was sugarcoating it.

Ruby: Oh...

Whitley: Look I’m just going to provide my honest opinion. I think you’re not pushing him as hard as I think you should be. It doesn’t mean that Rowan is a lost cause or that you are entirely at fault. It’s still early in his training so he can get caught up still. Speaking of Rowan where’s he now?

Yang: Oh he’s doing his training exceeises.

Whitley: Show me.

Yang: Ok, follow me Shrimp boy.

Whitley: I’m over 30 and you’re still calling me that.

Yang:(Singsong) And I’m not planning to stop.~

Whitley: Sometimes I think she’s doing that on purpose to rile me up.

Ruby: Why don’t you tell her to stop if it bothers you so much?

Whitley: You and I both know that by doing that it would acknowledge she is winning, I refuse to give her the satisfaction.

Ruby:(Places hand on his shoulder) Truly you are a brave soul.

Whitley: Don’t patronize me. Now come on let’s fix the mess you made.

Ruby: Hey! I’ll have you know that my training is not that bad. It ensures that Rowan gets the training he needs and he’s safe while doing so.

Whitley: Oh this’ll be good to see.

*Five Minutes Later. Outside of Rose House*

Whitley: I was wrong. This is so much worse than I thought.

Yang: It’s not... that bad.

Whitley: Yang please don’t try to sugarcoat this....mess. I mean come on, what is he even wearing?!

Before the three of them was Rowan who was wearing his ‘training armor’. Said training armor consists of a football helmet, a chest protector, shin guards, hockey gloves, and finally multiple pillows for extra protection. His practice scythe being made of wood with styrofoam on the edge. The only way one could tell it was Rowan wearing the gear was the silver eyes peeking out of the protective visor.

Ruby: I personally don’t see what’s wrong with anything here.

Whitley: You-You can’t be serious Ruby. How can you not see what’s wrong here. I can see now why he’s having such a hard time with combat class, it’s because your training the poor kid like this!

Yang: Whitley...

Whitley: Alright look, sorry for the blunt criticism, but there will need to be serious changes to the boy’s training routine. That means no more ‘training armor’.

Ruby: What?! But he’ll be vulnerable without the armor.

Whitley: He’s vulnerable with the armor on! Look, Rowan do a turn around for me.

Rowan: Ok...just give me a minute...eh! (Rowan waddles around but he eventually gets to turning in the span of 20 seconds)

Ruby: ...Ok I think I see what you mean. (Looks down dejected)

Whitley: ‘Sigh’ Look Ruby, you want your son to pass right.

Ruby: Of course I do.

Whitley: Then the first thing you do is to stop treating him as a child and as a young hunter who needs training to survive.

Ruby: Ok, that’s a start. Any other advice.

Whitley: Yeah, maybe change his weapon. I get the feeling a scythe is not the best weapon choice for him.

Ruby:(Dead Stare)...Excuse me.

Whitley: Ok hear me out first, I think some of the problems that we’re having here is not just due to having poor training......What I’m saying is that he sucks at using a scythe in general. I mean.....like a lot.

Ruby: ... I’m giving you a five second head start. (Cocks Crescent Rose)

Whitley: Oh fuck me. (Starts to run like mad)

Rowan: Mr. Whitley where you-?

Whitley: CAN’T TALK GOTTA RUN! (Running past him)

Ruby: RRRAAAAAAHHHHH!!! (Chasing after Whitley)

Rowan: ...Are they gonna be ok?

Yang:(Walks up to her nephew and rubs his helmet) Don’t worry kiddo they’ll be fine. Your mom just needs to let out some steam on Shrimp Boy.

Rowan: Oh... you mean like how you say you’re gonna go let out some steam when you and Mr. Whitley go to town and don’t come back until the next night?

Yang:(Blushes) Um... No that’s, uh, that’s different. What I mean is your Mom and Whitley just need to fight it out.

Rowan: Oh... what’s the diff-?

Yang: When you’re older, Rowan.

Whitley: WHY ARE YOU BITING ME!!!

Ruby: TAKE IT BACK!!!

Whitley: GET OFF ME!!!

Ruby: NOT UNTIL YOU SUFFER!!!

-End of Part 1-

A/N: Made a few edits.

[ratretro]

The Heart Beats Chapter 3: Hot Stuff

Title: The Heart Beats

Pairing: NaLu

Summary: Soulmate AU mashup - Red Strings. Forgotten Dreams. Colors of Gray. Marked Skin. Unfamiliar Names. Soulmates have different meanings for everyone, and Lucy struggles to find the courage to take her next step forward. Will she finally claim her future or will feelings go left unsaid?

Rating: M – sort of??? probably??????

None of these characters are owned by me, they are all owned by the wonderful Hiro Mashima!

A/N:

May I first say: welcome to THB chapter 3. So, I’m hoping to be more frequent but I also started college yesterday so we’ll see. MEANWHILE, THB is changing. We’re going to have a sort of interactive story. At the end of this chapter you’ll have two choices for the main pairings of the chapter and depending on the choice picked the story line changes. So, it’ll be based on a voting system (sorry in advance) I’ll give voting about a week and then the tally will happen and i’ll begin the chapter. (the options are already planned out I just need the winning option to write the chapter)  ALSO THIS STORY IS FRAZZLED AND SO AM I SO LETS DO THIS GUYS

FF.net -- AO3

UPDATE: AO3 ADDED AND TWO DAYS LEFT TO VOTE

   Lucy watched her friend contemplate her options. Would she chase her soulmate, or would she allow herself to fall in love naturally? Socially, she’d be expected to locate her soulmate and then after a discussion they’d begin to date. However, Lucy’s group was a bit different since the choice was at the discretion of their friend. Gray flip-flopped between finding his soulmate and just doing as he pleased. While Levy was blatantly trying to find hers. She wanted romance out of a novel and Lucy could respect that.

   She fiddled with the cuff of her coat as she considered her own situation. The blonde never knew what she wanted to do. He was just a pen away but Lucy was always too scared to ask. Too scared and too unsure of herself. The blonde didn’t want to meet him with half-hearted feelings.

   And currently, that was her entire life. Half-baked decisions while running through the typical motions of general life activity. In other words, seasonal depression. She stopped, opting to focus in on her dear friend’s dilemma with hopes that she could help in some way. In any way, really.

   “I’ll look. It would give me the opportunity to meet him.” and then we can go from there, the words were unspoken but Erza didn’t really need to say them in front of the trio. They got it. They understood quite well what it meant to find a soulmate. They also wouldn’t fault her for giving up later down the line, though that would be unheard of considering who Erza was as a person.

----------------------------------

   It had been nearly two weeks, TWO WEEKS, of searching and Lucy, was beginning to lose herself in the frustration of her own inability to help her friend. Pale fingers clenched the handle of the porcelain cup she was sipping her orange-lemon black tea from. The aroma was strong and not at all calming but there wasn’t really anything she could do at this point. A dragged out sigh left her lips.

   “Miss, is something bothering you?” the question came from a young man roughly her own age with dark blue hair and a red tattoo above and under his right eye. It was strange to see a man with these features employed in a cafe but none of the patrons seemed to mind.

   “No, it’s nothing.” this was a personal issue. There was no need to bother a stranger. However, she did have someone she could trust. Her bag popped open with ease revealing several writing utensils. It looked like the kind of pack a serious writer would carry. There was even a light pink laptop for all her useless doogling needs.

   He gave a curt nod and returned to his station with a quick word to the bashful pinkette behind the counter. She tugged her sleeve up and began to write.

   ‘Who knew searching for a soulmate could be so challenging.’ She scribbled onto her skin in blue ink.

   Her soulmate was already aware of the situation and was plenty supportive of her efforts. Her eyes flitted as pink hair disappeared behind a door to what was surely his first, or maybe last, break. He’d already been there when she showed up so she couldn’t be sure.

   ‘I’m sure your friend is happy your helping’ His lack of care for the differences of you’re and your had always bothered her but she let it go for now.

   ‘But’ she paused, trying to decide her next statement.

   “It feels like I’m not doing enough,” she whispered under her breath.

   “For?” she jumped from the male voice behind her.

   “Shit! Sorry ‘bout that.” Natsu sat across from her, wild hair tousled in every direction, as though he’d maybe raked his fingers through it.

   “No, it’s fine.” she didn’t say much else on it but did pull her sleeve back down while hoping he didn’t catch the flash of blue lettering.

   “What was on your arm?” he asked, not admitting to the hope that sparked in his mind.

   “Novel notes.” she lied, hopefully, expertly.

   “OH! You’re writing a novel?” so was his soulmate. He wanted to grab her arm and look at the blue on her skin. But that would be crazy. He wanted to get closer to her not scare her away.

   “Yes,” her answer was short even as she awkwardly looked away from him. Maybe she just didn’t want him to see her work and he supposed that was okay too.

   “Wanting it to be a surprise, huh?” a soft smile graced his features. Lucy, glad for him understanding her false situation, let out a sigh of relief.

   “Exactly! It wouldn’t be fun if you know parts of the story already!” she waved a finger at him with a small giggle and Natsu Dragneel swore he almost melted.

   “Could I… get your number?” That was a surprise. He waited in shocked silence as the gears in his mind turned and he prepared for her rejection.

   “Sure.” she agreed, easily and without hesitation, much to her own surprise. The two sat in silence for what felt like an eternity before Lucy fumbled for her device and held it out to him.

   “Here! Type it in and call so you have my number too.” she waited until the buzz of his phone came on and she watched him fish a phone from his own. Mavis, she wished girls could have pockets too.

   “Oh! You have an iPeach too!” that meant they could even video chat if they wanted. Two weeks of flirting and this is where the pair ended up. She felt as though she was cheating on her best friend – her soulmate. This wasn’t normally acceptable. Still, she felt electricity flow through the two as their fingers brushed when her phone was returned to her.

   “I know. You’ve got the newest one too. So do I.” the pinkette waved his phone slightly before shoving it back to his pocket while standing. Natsu Dragneel would never admit he bought this phone specifically because she had one. He was due for an upgrade but it would be a lie if she hadn’t affected his choice at all.

   “I’ll talk to ya soon then!” he nearly skipped through the door to go back behind the counter for his job. Just as he sauntered back to the blenders in his dirty apron there was a ding on her phone:

From: Hot Stuff

3:36pm

Hey :D

A/N:

Hello! Here are the options:

NaLu: Ice Cream Date or Midnight Video Call?

Jerza: Run Into Each Other At THE Park or Meet At The Coffee Shop?

Sorry this chapter is so short. I’ve been working on this system for a bit to figure out a good way to make THB 1, get updated faster and 2, more unique and I think this is a great way to do that. Plus, i’ve been wanting to try something like this for a while. Also, next chapter goes more into what Natsu is involved in and a little Gruvia so keep a lookout. and we meet wendy depending on the choice you make ;) choose wisely

So, shoot your choice my way via: AO3, FF.net, Asks, or DMs

[is-this-a-skam-account]

Shelter Chapter 2 by Shawnie1718 ao3

The next week, Lucas’s heat hits him like a truck. He had planned for it, since he had stopped taking his suppressants in order to trigger the heat. However, when he woke up, he was covered in sweat and slick and was overtaken by the worst headache in the world. Lucas quickly ran to the bathroom to take some Motrin for the cramps. He downed the pills two at a time and glanced in the mirror.

Lucas groaned and rubbed at his under eye bags. He looked like crap, which usually happens during his heats. He isn’t one of those lucky Omegas that tend to look like literal angels whenever they go into heat. However, Mika has said that Lucas smells like an absolute dream, which means his roommate has to wear a clothespin on his nose to avoid accidentally breathing in Lucas’s scent and triggering any of his Alpha instincts of domination to take over.

Lucas trudges back to his bed. He strips off his shirt and pants as he feels the fire inside him start to burn. Great, the best part. He whines involuntarily as he climbs back in bed, pulling his pillow close to him, his inner Omega crying out for some type of skin-to-skin contact. He just wants someone to roam their hands down his back and cuddle him until he falls asleep.

Lucas groans into his blanket. He hates being an Omega.

When he wakes up later in the afternoon, he absolutely reeks. He definitely smells like an Omega in heat. He reaches for his phone, the bright screen not helping his headache at all.

@srodulv sent you a message!

Lucas felt like his heart was about to jump out of his chest. Eliott must have sent him something while he was asleep. Lucas eagerly opened up the message.

@srodulv: two weeks and one day!

Lucas smiled, the idiot was counting down the days until their planned meet-up. Good thing Lucas had his heat now, rather than having to move it around the meet up with Eliott.

@lucallament: wow what a romantic.

@srodulv: well, I have to be the romantic for both of us. All you like to do is make fun of me!

@lucallament: ❤️

@lucallament: is that better?

@srodulv: much 💕

Lucas purred. He purred. Has he ever purred before? Maybe once when he was ten.

As they continued texting Lucas’s inner Omega was sprinting around inside him. Begging Lucas to ask Eliott to come to his apartment. To hug him. To take care of him. Of course, Lucas did none of the above. He managed to suppress the urges and down another Motrin.

@srodulv: oh! I got another house plant by the way!

@lucallament: I wonder how long it’s going to take you to kill this one.

@srodulv: D:

@srodulv: do you wanna see it?

@lucallament: sure! Send a photo?

@srodulv: I was thinking more of a video.

@lucallament: that works too

@srodulv: well, more of like a video chat.

Lucas froze. How could he FaceTime Eliott right now? In the middle of his heat? Well, he is still in phase one. The phase where he just wants to nap 24/7, so his hormones haven’t completely taken over. Also, what would happen if he rejected? He didn’t want to make Eliott feel bad...

@lucallament: okay, give me one sec.

Lucas dashed around his room, placing anything away that may give Eliott a clue as to Lucas’s situation at the moment. He forced all his dirty clothes into his hamper, and nesting blankets folded neatly at the end of his bed. His inner Omega growled at the fact that he would have to rebuild the nest later, but it will have to suffice. Lucas quickly slipped on a clean sweatshirt before clicking the call button. His heart was pumping in his ears, making it seem as if his whole head was shaking.

Suddenly, Eliott’s face appeared on Lucas’s laptop and Lucas became hyper aware how much he, himself, looked like crap. And how goddamned photoshopped Eliott looks.

“Salut!” Eliott greeted.

Lucas smiled, “salut.”

Shit, this boy really is gorgeous. Lucas thought as Eliott’s image suddenly started moving. He had gotten up from some type of sitting arrangement. A couch? And walked into another room, flicking on a bright light.

“You look...cute?” Eliott questioned and breathed a laugh.

Lucas rolled his eyes, “if I look so bad I may as well just go.” Lucas said and threatened to close his laptop screen.

“No! No!” Eliott said frantically, “I just hope I didn’t catch you at a bad time.”

Lucas shrugged, not the best. “I just didn’t get much sleep last night.” And my butt is sticking to my pants and all I want to do is sleep.

“I’m sorry,” Eliott said, and it seemed like he’s genuinely sorry. Lucas swallowed the purr that was making its way up his throat. “Well, I hope my new plant can brighten your day!” Eliott said, his shoulders shrugging happily before flipping the camera around. “Tada!”

Lucas gasped and his smile widened, “oh! Forget-me-nots!”

He could hear Eliott chuckle from behind the camera. “Yeah! They caught my eye when I was at the store today. I was between them and a hydrangea.”

“What made you choose the forget-me-not?”

The camera flipped around and... was that a blush coating Eliott’s cheeks? “Well, it reminded me of someone,” his eyes found sudden interest in anything except the camera.

Holy shit this boy will be the death of him, “they’re really pretty.” Lucas said, trying to make his heart calm down. Doesn’t help that his heat is upon him, making everything that Eliott says, everything that Eliott does, resonate inside him. “Uh, anyways, why did you want to video chat?”

Eliott shrugs again and licks his lips briefly. Lucas feels victimized by the action. “I don’t know...I mean it’s lonely here in Japan,” Eliott laughs, “I guess I wanted a taste of back home. Oh!” Eliott exclaimed, nearly spooking Lucas, “I met a fan on the street and look what they gave me!” When Eliott came back into frame he was wearing a fluffy white bunny hat. And...were the ears flopping? Lucas felt like he was going to implode from cuteness overload.

Lucas bursts into laughter. But after Eliott places the hat back down, Lucas’s eyes soften. He can totally relate to the feeling when you’re far from home. When he goes out on tours, within the first couple weeks he already begins to feel homesick. “Well, if there is anything I can do to help you feel better...”

Eliott moves again, this time through a couple sets of doors and flops down on a...bed? “Would you sing me something?” Even though the bottom half of Eliott’s face is covered by a pillow, Lucas can still see the smile taking over his face and the crinkle of his eyes into half crescents.

Lucas feels anxious, stomach churning, palms sweating. “I...don’t know. My voice isn’t the best right now.”

“Then could you play something on an instrument for me?”

Lucas pauses, “sure. What instrument?”

Eliott shrugs again, “whatever is fine.”

Lucas nods and places his computer off his lap. He reaches for the closest instrument which happens to be his acoustic guitar. When he positions himself in front of the camera again, his heart is racing. He tries to avoid Eliott’s eyes, but it’s so damn hard when he keeps looking at him like that. Lucas strums a couple chords, and neither of them say a word to each other. It’s a perfect silence.

Lucas decides to play his rendition of City of Stars he had written for the guitar when the movie first came out. He was going to post it as a video, but decided against it. Once he finished he was finally able to look back up and meet the searing gaze that had watched him with the utmost interest throughout the entire song.

“That was...” Eliott began, but let his sentence trail off into an amused breath-y laugh.

Lucas shrugged, licking his lips as he put his guitar back. “It was okay. I haven’t practiced the piece in a while.”

“That was much better than okay! That was like, I don’t even know! Putain, Lucas!” Eliott exclaimed and ran a hand through his hair.

There was a silence that passed over them as Lucas looked down at his blanket, taking sudden interest in pulling at the tassels coming off. Finally Lucas asked, “what are you going to name your new flower?”

Eliott took his time to reply. And in that short period Lucas kept thinking how nice it would feel to have Eliott run his hand through his hair and maybe pull on it. Both in a kinky and non-kinky way. Lucas thought about how soft Eliott’s lips looked, and how he had natural bedroom eyes... “...Lucas?”

Oh shit, he had completely zoned out. Maybe the next phase of his heat was coming soon. “Ah, sorry. What did you say?”

Eliott chuckled, “I was saying I don’t really have any ideas. Do you? I mean I already have flowers named after all the seven dwarfs from Snow White, right? So I can’t name it after any of them. I could name it like...”

“Susan.” Lucas said plainly, which made Eliott burst into laughter.

“Susan?!”

Lucas shrugged, a smile spreading across his face. “Yeah, it’s my guitars name.”

That made Eliott freeze, “you name your instruments?”

“Don’t make it seem weird! I don’t name my plants!”

Eliott laughed again, and Lucas felt like he was getting high off the sound. “Fair enough. But you know,” Eliott pauses, “I was thinking of a name more along the lines of Lucas.” Eliott’s eyes flick up for a second to capture Lucas’s.

Lucas feels like he can’t breathe, and he tries to joke it off, “awe I’m getting a plant named after me! How sweet.”

Eliott smiles happily. Lucas swears he can practically see his tail wagging.

Lucas takes a quick glance at the time. The next phase of his heat will probably start in an hour or so, so he should end the conversation in about thirty minutes which will give him enough time to rebuild his nest and prepare...other things...

Eliott’s laughter pulls him out of his train of thought, “what?” Lucas asks.

Eliott shrugs, “you’re just so cute when you’re deep in thought.”

That’s something a boyfriend would say! Lucas dismisses the thought as soon as it enters his head. He clears his throat, “so, what about you, pretty boy. Do you have any other hobbies? Besides drawing.” Lucas meant for the “pretty boy” to come out more patronizing than it had.

“Awe you just called me pretty boy!” Eliott exclaimed and Lucas rolls his eyes. “Uh, but to answer you question, not really? I mean-“ there was a sudden ringing coming from Eliott’s phone which made his image freeze and flicker. “Shoot, Lucas, I have to go. Talk again soon?”

“Talk again soon.” Lucas said reassuringly and then, “two weeks and ten hours.”

Eliott smiled and his eyes turned up into little crescents. “Two weeks and nine hours and fifty-seven minutes.”

It was Lucas’s time to smile like an idiot, “just go, Eliott.”

“Bye, Lulu!” Eliott got out quickly before ending the FaceTime.

——

Phase two of Lucas’ heat felt like a tornado. Sometimes his mind couldn’t keep up with his body, and other times his body couldn’t keep up with his mind. He felt detached from himself every time another series of hormones hit him like a wave. Dragging him under, leaving him gasping for breath by the end.

Lucas would never admit it, but the only thing that kept him sane was imagining what Eliott would smell like. What it would feel like if Eliott’s nimble fingers grazed his scent gland. How it would feel if Eliott were to massage it until Lucas was puddy in his hands. Lucas wondered what it would be like to watch Eliott’s pupil expand until the very edges of his iris if he happened to breathe in Lucas’s heat scent. Lucas wondered if he would feel frozen in place, if he would be scared or perhaps excited. He imagined Eliott would have control of his Alpha instincts on a regular basis, but Lucas imagined Eliott perhaps letting go of the control in front of him, letting himself succumb to his dominating instincts. And Lucas imagined the after hours, after the heat between them died down. How it would feel to be spooned from behind, Eliott’s nose resting in the crook between Lucas’s neck and shoulder, mere centimeters away from his scent gland. His hands would pull Lucas close until all air between them vanished, as if trying to mold them permanently together.

[serenitysilverfantasyworld]

The PenPal

Sorry it’s been so long since the last chapter. Here is the next chapter of The PenPal!

New beginnings

A few days later

*back to Ikuto

               “Iku! Letter!” Shigure said excitedly running from the mailbox outside and into the bed and breakfast.

               “Thanks buddy.” Ikuto said scratching his mess of blonde hair before he bounded off to play with Akane. After Ikuto finished what he was doing he took a small break and rested on a lawn chair outside. “I hope she’s feeling better today.” He muttered to himself as he opened the envelope.

Dear Ikuto,

       I took a tumble down the side of a mountain is all, the doctors just want to make sure that I am perfectly healthy before they let me go. My eyes were severely damaged… so time will tell if I get my sight back. If my sight doesn’t return my dream will remain a dream…

               Ikuto wiped the tears that were streaming down his face as he heard Tsuki’s voice in the distance.

              “Ikuto-kun, you okay?” Tsuki asked her head poking out of a nearby window in the bed and breakfast.

              “I’m fine Tsuki.” He smiled wiping his tears quickly. “What do you need?” He asked.

              “You just look like you need a hug, so,” She grunted climbing over the windowsill and jumping onto the grass before bounding over to where he sat, wrapping her arms tightly around his waist. “Feel better?” She asked her bright blue eyes gazing up at him.

              “Much better.” He smiled touching her nose playfully. “Now run off and play cutie.” He chuckled as she bounded off into the distance. Once she was gone he read the rest of the letter.

         It sounds like your parents have their hands full, and I’m sure your siblings like having you around. When I was Shigure’s age I ran around the yard looking for all the bugs and critters I could find to show my dad. He was never happy to see me on those days, but I guess all I wanted him to notice me. That’s another story all together, I don’t want to bore you with that story.  

       That’s a smart idea, you taking online classes especially if you work a lot. I have been so busy with high school and my college courses that I haven’t gotten myself a part time job.

          You write music, that’s really cool I’m kind of jealous I can sing well enough, but can’t write a single cord without it sounding like a dying whale. What genre of music do you write, I’d love to hear it sometime. I don’t doubt that you will be an amazing musician. When you make it big I’ll be sure to buy your first album alright? I’m finally feeling better; the flu has finally bit the dust and I’m on the road to full recover and hopefully out of this sanitary prison they call a hospital. I look forward to hearing from you again soon.

~Kyoko

          “Ikuto!” His dad shouted from the back door. “Can you cover the front desk while your mom and I go shopping?”

           “Sure thing dad.” Ikuto said as he slid the letter into his back pocket. “I’ll reply when I have some spare time.”

            A few weeks go by and Kyoko’s letter was still on his desk, waiting a reply. His parents surprised him that night when they came home from their shopping trip. Telling him that they were going to go on a vacation to Kyoto for their twenty-fifth anniversary, so that left Ikuto to take care of his siblings and run the bed and breakfast by himself. Luckily they did have several part time employees that helped take care of the patron’s needs and meals, but they were all still pretty new to the job so Ikuto was there most of the day supervising when he wasn’t otherwise chasing his siblings. With his finals coming up in online school courses he spent most every night after closing up the bed and breakfast studying and waking up to Akame’s nightmares.

            Every morning started with a large cup of coffee just to wake himself up before the chaos of the day. The moment his parents returned from their trip he went to his room for a much-needed nap. After waking up the next morning he finally replied to Kyoko’s letter she sent three weeks ago. “I’m so sorry Kyoko, please forgive me.”

Three days later

*back to Kyoko

               After her confrontation with her father Misaki demanded over and over for Kyoko to be released from the hospital to avoid further injury from him. The staff declined, because they didn’t want to get fired for disobeying Dr. Ootori’s direct orders to keep his daughter here until she is ‘fully recovered’ after a thorough examination by himself. Which everyone knew that he had some really high standards, so Misaki resigned herself to getting the permission to stay the night every night until Kyoko was recovered enough for a release.

               For the past few weeks every day that Misaki came back from the store with no letter Kyoko’s spirits dropped. Every day was a rollercoaster of emotions when she heard Misaki come in her hopes would rise and then quickly plummet, until at long last Misaki rushed in excitedly. “Ikuto finally replied Kyoko!”

               “Great.” Kyoko said gloomily with a hint of sarcasm.

               “Don’t you want to hear what he wrote?” She asked as she set the groceries she bought into the mini-fridge they had in the hospital room.

               “Whatever.” She said.

               “Just give him a chance, I’m sure he has a good reason for not writing you for so long.” Misaki said sitting in the chair on the balcony next to Kyoko.

               “Doesn’t matter.” Kyoko shrugged as Misaki ripped open the envelope.

Dear Kyoko,

         I’m so sorry it took me so long to respond to your letter, my parents went on a surprise vacation for three weeks, so I had to hold down the fort at home and the bed and breakfast while they were away. It was quite tiring.

         I’m so sorry to hear about your accident, I hope you can recover fully soon. Especially your eyes, those are needed to do most everything.

         I’m flattered to hear that you want to hear my music, but I have to say I’m not that good. My mom may call me her little superstar, but I still have a long way to go before I’m star material. I can play any genre on the piano and guitar. With my original songs I tend to lean towards calm and soothing melodies, my teacher calls it smooth pop. Sometimes I use my guitar and sing some big country hits just to mix things up at the bed and breakfast. If you want to hear my music maybe we could video chat sometime, but wait do they allow laptops in the hospital? Or when you are released you can always come over to the bed and breakfast, but we can figure that out later I guess.

         I’m sorry again that it took so long to write back to you, I was just so busy lately, please forgive me.

~Ikuto

               After Misaki read the letter Kyoko sat their silently, sighing heavily.

               “You know we could go…” Misaki started.

               “No.” Kyoko argued. “I can’t….” She said pointing at her face, the scars across her eyes that she’s felt so many times she knew there is no way that the whole world wouldn’t notice them the second she stepped outside.

               “You look beautiful as always, and your dad will understand or at least accept your condition one day… we hope.” Misaki said as she walked to the microwave, placing some instant noodles inside. “On another note, I got a call from the service dog agency like you asked me to do, they have a dog that is ready for you to start going through the training with.”

               “Great.” Kyoko said, knowing at least in her situation having a new set of eyes to help her avoid obstacles would be helpful. “When?”

               “I told them to bring the dog here tomorrow as soon as they can.” Misaki said as she grabbed her noodles from the microwave. “This should hopefully help you get some of your independence back.”

               “Yea...” Kyoko sighed heavily. “Dad’s not going to like this.”

               “We can only hope he’ll come to his senses.” Misaki replied. “Hopefully before school starts.”

               “Yea.” Kyoko sighed, desperate to change the topic from her overbearing father.

               “Let’s eat, then we’ll write the letter.” Misaki said as she handed Kyoko her cup of noodles.

               “Ok.” Kyoko replied as Misaki placed a cup of noodles into her hands, handing her a fork since chopsticks are difficult for her.

                After the garbage was thrown away, Misaki pulled out her notepad and pen. “Ready when you are.”    

                Once the letter was written Misaki was so happy to hear from Kyoko’s tone of voice that she was starting to feel just a little bit cheerful. Since finding out what the accident did to her eyesight she barely spoke a word for that whole three weeks. She was still not her normal perky self but she’s at least been less snippy than she was when she first got the news from the doctors. Misaki was filled with hope for the future that Kyoko could have with her new friend that she couldn’t keep tears from flowing.

               “What’s wrong?” Kyoko asked, hearing Misaki sniffle a couple of times.

               “I’m just happy Kyoko.” Misaki said as she slid the notebook and letter into her bag. “Your mom would be so happy for you.” Misaki said.

                 “I hope...” Kyoko smiled gazing softly towards Misaki.

A week later

*back to Ikuto

               He had finally finished off his online classes for the summer semester and was ready to enjoy the rest of the summer writing songs and working when he was needed at the bed and breakfast. He went back to the song he wrote a few weeks ago that was inspired by Kyoko, trying to put lyrics to the tune. He racked his brain for several days whenever he had free time, but no lyrics came to him. As he scrubbed the dishes from dinner one day the mail carrier walked in and set the mail on the bar, seeing Ikuto at the sink behind it.

               “Thank you very much.” Ikuto said drying his hands off as the mail carrier walked back outside. He flipped through the pile of letters until he found one from Kyoko. He smiled as he slid the letter into his pocket, going back to his chores. “I’m hope she isn’t mad at my late response.” He sighed in relief.

               That night after closing up the bed and breakfast he went to his room to read Kyoko’s letter.

Dear Ikuto,

       I was so happy to get your letter, I was worried that you forgot about me…. My friends haven’t visited me this whole two months I’ve been here. On top of that my boyfriend dumped me before I was even out of surgery shortly after my accident, and now he’s married to my best friend. He’s the heir to a large company so the marriage was all over the news so if you have a television you probably saw it…. They both graduated at the end of this school year in May and now… I thought what we had was something special, he told me he would wait until I graduated to propose so my studies wouldn’t be hindered. I guess he only really loved me for my family’s money after all.

My family’s business is Ootori Medical Inc. My father is the CEO of the whole company, which is I guess one reason I’m stuck in this hospital, even though all my injuries have healed.

I’m sorry, didn’t mean to rant about something so trivial, but it’s nice to get it off my chest… I…haven’t really spoken much to anyone lately… The only one that I’ve really spoken to has been Misaki, she’s been like a mother to me since I was born. She’s been my scribe for my letters until my eyes heal.

       Misaki has told me time and again that singing was one of my mom’s favorite things to do. There was a rumor of my mom getting a record deal but was forced to give it up when she married my dad. When I would walk to school I would often sing to my favorite songs, I guess in a way it made me feel closer to the mother I never knew….

I’m sorry, this ended up being a letter of venting, I’ll try to avoid that next time it’s just been a rough three weeks…

Were you able to get any sleep while holding the fort down? If not you should take all the time you need to sleep, I’m sure you’ve earned it. You mother should be giving birth soon shouldn’t she?

I would love to visit the bed and breakfast sometime, I’m sick of this prison of a hospital my dad has forced me to stay in.  

~Kyoko

           After reading Kyoko’s letter he sat there, unsure what to think or how to respond. He looked over at the clock by his bed and saw it was already midnight. When did it get so late? He thought to himself as he quickly undressed and went to bed, leaving the letter on his nightstand.

               A few days go by and Ikuto finally had a few minutes to sit down to respond to Kyoko’s letter.  

               “You writing to Kyoko?” His mother asked as Ikuto sealed the envelope, she sat down slowly on the couch next to Ikuto.

               “Yea,” Ikuto smiled as he set the envelope on the table. “Do you think it’s too early to ask her to meet in person?” He asked looking over at his mother.

               “Well you have only known her a couple of months so it’s hard to say, does she want to meet you?” she asked.

               “I’m not sure, she mentioned that it would be nice to get out of the hospital so maybe…?”

               “What is she in the hospital for?” She asked.

               “Well, I don’t know the details, but she was in an accident of some sort and her eyes were severely damaged, they aren’t sure if she’ll see once her eyes are recovered. I should ask her if her eyes are better.” He said as he jotted that down on his notepad.

               “Oh the poor thing…” She sighed.

               “Yea… she seems to be dealing with it in her own way, but I can imagine it’s really hard for her, she wants to be a doctor so she needs to be able to see.”

               “Yea she certainly does, I hope all is well. Any sort of serious injury is hard to deal with at first. Especially if you were in perfect health before.”

               “What should I do?” Ikuto asked.

               “Let me read.” She replied as Ikuto handed her the letter. After reading it she set it down, her hand rubbing the end of her chin in thought. “It sounds like she is in need of a friend Ikuto, her life has just been flipped upside down.”

               “Alright, thanks mom.” Ikuto smiled.

               “Maybe you should wait to ask her to visit till she’s able to.”

               “Alright.” He sighed. “I just don’t want to hurt her, it sounds like she’s been through a lot.”

               “You’re so cute when you worry Ikuto.” His mother chuckled.

               Ikuto’s cheeks flushed red in embarrassment, she was only partially right. He was worried about her, but it felt different than anything he had ever felt before. From his previous rejection he wasn’t ready to admit that this could be the beginnings of love that he was feeling. “I just care for her as a friend.” His blush deepened.

               “Whatever you say Ikuto.” She winked as he left to put the letter in the mailbox.

[thotyssey]

On Point With: Robyn Banks

A drag performer, recording artist and truly independent spirit, New York-born Robyn Banks is a queen who plays by her own rules. A lover of performing, she’s someone we’re going to be seeing--and hearing--for some time to come!

Thotyssey: Robyn, hello! Thanks for talking to us! So, DragCon has come and gone... did you partake?

Robyn Banks: Yasss! I went for Day Two as well as Day Three. Day Two was AMAZING! I also was there with Drag Queen Story Hour, so that made it even more special.

You’re a Story Hour queen?

Yes. I just actually had my one year anniversary with them.

Congratulations! They've done great work with exposing kids to both gender fluidity and literacy. Isn't it great to do important things as a queen besides just entertaining folks in bars all the time?

I really enjoy it. It’s one of those things where you really get to see how smart children are. Every time I do a reading, I am just either amazed or super emotional. I actually enjoy when I have a reading, and then a bar gig in the same day.

We have some bar gigs to talk about! But first, let's get the background on you! Where are you from, and what were you like as a kid?

I was born and raised in Harlem, New York. As a child, I was always very outgoing. I wanted to be on TV so bad, so I would do and say things from shows such a Buffy, Saved by the Bell, Charmed, etc. 

I had a really good childhood. I hated being active, though... the thought of hurting myself was the scariest thing ever. So I never rough-played with the boys--always played Double Dutch or hopscotch with the girls. 

My teenage years, I went to Harvey Milk High School, which at the time was an all-gay high school (now it’s an alternative school). I discovered drag there, and was always in the halls filming things with my flip cam. I graduated school president. Then I went to college for early childhood education. So, working with children is something I’ve always wanted to do!

Were you always musical?

Yes. So my mom plays a ton of instruments, and my dad is still a DJ. My mom taught me the beauty of hearing music, and taking a song apart and just hearing everything about a song individually. I was obsessed with Mad TV, and I loved when they did music video parodies. And I wanted to do just that. I was always funny. And I was always able to make up a random song on the spot!

How exactly did drag come into your life?

When I was in high school, I was asked by a dance teacher to fill in for a Tina Turner number... and I was handed a wig and a black dress! After the show, I was told how I had really nice legs (something i had been told my whole life). I was then told that I should do drag, but I had no idea what it really was yet. 

The school was having its first “Miss Stars Pageant,” and my friends all said I should do it. I figured, hey, I love to dance and act a fool, but over all just entertain, so why not? I did a number. My friends backup danced for me. We had to incorporate a safer sex message into it, so I made a evening gown out of condoms and I won!

I saw you also recently wore a gown adorned with MetroCards... do you often use found or used objects to make your looks?

Actually, no. I just try to go big for big events. The MetroCard gown was something I wanted for the first DragCon, but I knew the cards wouldn’t fly well since DragCon was in LA. I saved all those MetroCards for three years. I try to think outside the box and use interesting things to make a big statements. I have no idea what I’m doing next year!

I’m sure it’ll be extraordinary! So, there are a few other Robyn Bankses out there...  have you had to duke it out with any of them yet?

No, they don’t want it! Just kidding. No, I’ve never met one. But I was recently at a bar and met a queen, and she’s like “Damn, you came all the way out here from Colorado?” And I’m like, “No, I live in Harlem.” I then looked up that Robyn Banks, and it was an older white woman! And I was asked by a person if I used to be a stripper. Googled her, and it was a big booty African American woman named Robyn Banks that was a stripper! God I wish I had her body!

It only takes a few pillows! Were you / are you a regular of the weekly competitions like Star Search, Drag Wars and Look Queen?

I was introduced by Vitani to Drag Wars about two years ago, and that year I was there faithfully. And then I was there about two weeks ago, and it has changed a lot. And I love that there’s just so many new faces! I’ve never done Star Search, and I did Look Queen back in June and won. So that was fun.

I love those compilations, but I don’t know... I realize I just enjoy performing, acting a fool, just being me. There’s so much pressure when it comes competitions. But there are a few thoughts in my head about possibly doing a few next year!

So you are actually part of NYC drag history... you were the last queen hired to host a weekly show at Boots & Saddle Drag Lounge! 

OMG, yes! I was.

You had a weekend happy hour show for the last few months of that bar’s existence. What was that whole experience like for you?

It was amazing. Honestly, it was also a lot of work. I give it to the girls who have more then one weekly show. That was my very first one. The first month, I was so confident... like,”I got this, I can do it.” But to entertain for two hours... it was a lot. I was used to just doing a 3-5 minute song. I learned a lot from doing that, and I’m forever grateful to Robert for giving me that chance, and to DJ T-Boy  for really guiding me through the first month.

You’ve said that doing that show helped you fund the making of your album Jawbreaker. When did you start writing those songs?

I started writing for the album mid-2016. I went to film a show which was then canceled, and then I went through a breakup after being in my first adult relationship. So then I took a break, and in 2017 started writing. But it was super depressing, and my producer was like, “Nah you can have one song on there like that, but you gotta use that fuel to write bangers.” So we scrapped all 7 songs and started over. Doing the show and starting to be In the drag world helped me see what people were dancing to and enjoying. Originally, I wanted to call Jawbreaker “La Discotek,” but there wasn’t enough dancie songs on it.

What was this canceled show you were involved in?

It was a reality show for MTV called Last Square Standing we made back in March of 2016. And then when we got back a week later they canceled it, only to revise it. It had one season, and then it was canceled officially. That was, like, the third show I had that was canceled!

Wait, third!?

Yeah, I did a MTV show in high school called Dissed. They showed the first three episodes, and then it was canceled! But they sent it to me on DVD.

Wow, MTV sucks!

Yeah, lol! I really want Big Brother. I auditioned for it three times--once in drag, before Courtney did for Big Brother UK. So, we’ll see!

Do you have a favorite track from Jawbreaker?

Oh, God! Well, I honestly love “Karma,” cuz it was something I wrote about my ex. I had told my producer the story [behind the song]. and he said it needed to be a trap song. I had never done trap music, so “Karma” is also the song that I struggled with the most out of my whole discography. But I love it even more that Lola Michele-Kiki is on the remix!

That’s going to be available soon... the remix track with Lola and its video.

Yes, we shot the video along with a ton of other NYC drags back in August and September. I’m just waiting for iTunes and a few other [downloading platforms] to approve the single (or maxi-single) to finally give it a release day! Meanwhile, I’m hoping for a GLAM this year for my single “Back It Up,” and then go for another with the "Karma” video!

What was the most surprising thing for you about the recording process?

How good I sound. Let tell you something: producers are the way of the world. When I recorded this album, I didn’t want it to seem like I was another drag doing music. I did music as a boy under “Manny Montag,” so I was excited when I record my first album Robyn cuz I got to do music, parodies and drag. If I played you the demo I got for “Karma,”you would be like, whoah! That why I’m also a fan of a capella, cuz it’s just amazing what a producer can do with your vocals. Just ask Lola, lol!

Werk! Any ideas for future recordings?

I originally wanted to extend Jawbreaker into a deluxe, but I’m just now really getting into dance music. Plus, I enjoyed working with all the NYC girls during the video shoot, that it’s given me an idea. I stared working on new stuff. I felt like Jawbreaker was an intro into who Robyn Banks is. But the next album...  she did not come to play! I will tell you that the name of the next project is Drag Mafia.

So, onto a serious topic for a moment... we’re in the middle of a shitstorm right now with The Manhattan Monster Bar dealing with outraged pushback from the nightlife community after some racist policies of management have been exposed (specifically, the general manager made a comment in a text about how the black dancers featured in an event poster should be replaced with “beautiful” ones in order to minimize black patrons). What are your thoughts about all of this? How should the Monster make this right, if that is even possible at this point?

Well, I pride myself in belong a black drag queen. And I am always excited to see my black sisters of color doing the damn thing. So first, shout out to Honey for exposing them. But also, shout out to Zarria for getting that spot at the new Boxers. I feel like this: there aren’t enough black drags out here that are really booming, and really making that stand. 

Don’t get me wrong... I’m in love with all different types of people--age, skin color, types of drag. However, there needs to be more of us having a shit ton of shows per week. I’ve been begging a certain bar owner for two years for my own one night, and all I get is “we’re booked...” But there’s a ton of new girls who ask, and BOOM they get it. And I have yet to see a black girl have there with her own show at this venue. It just sucks, cuz at the end of the day we all just wanna entertain people, but also have our craft be taken seriously. 

So for the issue at the Monster, I feel that the black community wasn’t taken seriously. Now, the owner said sorry and the general manager has been removed. But where’s the apology to Honey? To the black dancers? To the BLACK community? I’m sure The Monster isn’t going anywhere. But my mom used to go, and she said at one point about 70 percent of it was filled with ethnic people. Like, even RuPaul pops in there randomly!

Yes! They definitely don’t seem to understand who their patrons actually are. Disgraceful!  We can only wait and see if they will be able to recover from this.

In the meantime... you have some gigs coming up at Stonewall, starting with... Sucia’s birthday show this coming Sunday! 

Yes, I’m super excited about it! She is a good Judy. We often get ready together, and kiki... it’s fun. She helped with the "Karma” video. She shot and directed my music video for “Back It Up,” and she has a movie, Neon Boys, coming out next month. 

Then I’m [back at Stonewall on Saturday, October 13th] with Ari Kiki for Riot...

[... and back to Stonewall on Sunday] with Catrina Lovelace for her first Invasion...

I also have a few Drag Queen Story Hour readings this month, as well as our second annual fundraiser event. So, October is busy! And here I thought I’d be able to grow my beard out!  Also,the "Karma” song will drop this month, the remix will follow it next month, and the dance remix video will drop on New Years!

Congratulations and have fun with it all! What are you gonna be for Halloween?

Aye, I don’t know yet. I feel like with drag, it’s always Halloween. But I just got my own apartment last month, so I think I’ll take this year to just stay home with my dog, watch some movies, and just have some Me Time. I know I do have a DQSH reading that morning, so maybe I’ll be a cute bumblebee or something kid friendly. 

When I was a kid, we weren’t allowed to celebrate Halloween. I didn’t really celebrate 'til 2016 after my breakup, when my friends dragged (haha, drag) me out to have fun. I don’t know, maybe my mind will change.

Werk! Anything else? 

My favorite Halloween song is "The Monster Mash,” and my favorite Christmas song is "Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree,” so I’m trying to get the rights to re-record those, lol!

A busy musical bumblebee indeed! Thank you, Ms. Banks!

Check Thotyssey’s calendar for Robyn Banks’ upcoming appearances, and follow her on Facebook, Instagram, Twitter and YouTube. Also, purchase her music on iTunes. On Point Archives

[hamiltonmusicallove-blog]

My Hamilton Story

So, I’ve been fairly absent (alright, REALLY absent) from tumblr since Hamilton got so insanely big. Not something I expected. I started this blog after I saw the show (a few weeks before the soundtrack was released) to express my obsession with this thing that still seemed so small (hard to believe).  But, I thought if anyone is still around, you might be interested in hearing my take on seeing the show on Broadway with the entire original cast before it got big, before it got flipping HUGE.

My Hamilton journey/love/obsession? started with a wedding. A good friend was getting married in Boston in September of 2015. So, it seemed obvious that my friend M and I would spend some time in NYC after the wedding. Now being the recently graduated theater majors that we were, we certainly weren't going to the city and not seeing a show on Broadway. And, being the recently graduated, drowning in debt, theater majors that we were, we were flat broke. 

We floated the idea of several popular shows. Matilda has a great run in the West End and had good reviews. Finding Neverland was an effing Oscar nominated movie-turned-musical! However, this show... Hamilton, was it? (we had to look up reviews) certainly seemed promising. The main problem was, it was sold out. Now, tickets were readily available on StubHub and my friend M was all for it. But I balked. $150 per ticket?!? That’s DOUBLE the actual, ticketed price. Insane!!! But, after some cajoling, I agreed to spend what seemed like an astronomical amount to see the well reviewed, if little talked about, musical Hamilton (the irony is not lost on me).

The day of the show (September 8, 2015) was grotesquely hot. To put it in perspective, I had a friend visiting relatives in Tehran, Iran and it was COOLER there than it was in New York City. Nevertheless, we were determined to make the best of our few days in New York. We got brunch with a friend in Brooklyn, we visited the MET and finally that evening we rolled up to the Richard Rogers Theatre. Honestly, my only thought at that time was how bad I felt for whoever was sitting next to me, because I’d spent the entire day walking around NYC in 102F heat and no way way I going back to Brooklyn to change before the show (sorry nice lady sitting next to me!).

Honestly, I had no idea what to expect. I didn't know really what the show was about. I mean I’d heard of A. Ham but didn't really know anything about him beyond long forgotten high school history classes. Now, for our $150 black market tickets, M and I were towards the back of the Richard Rogers, but let me tell you, the beauty of Broadway is that space is pricey so most of the theaters are small. That means there isn’t a bad seat in the house. Despite being about 6-8 rows from the very back of the theater, we still had a great view. 

The lights dimmed, Leslie took the stage to start Alexander Hamilton and we were entranced. I knew nothing about the story. I knew nothing about the show. I remember desperately trying to commit My Shot, The Ten Duel Commandments, and the Cabinet Battles to memory. I remember thinking I will never see staging as brilliant as Satisfied. I remember thinking, “I need to take every single person I know to see this show”. The lyric I left with stuck my head for every minute, hour, and day, until the Original Broadway Recording was released, was: “I’m just like my country, I’m young, scrappy, and hungry.”

One of my biggest regrets was brought about by the Big Apple and Mother Nature herself. I am a child who grew up in a predominantly cold state and who’s ancestors came from predominantly cold countries. So my cold weather blood did not do well with the excessively warm NYC weather. While I was able to thoroughly enjoy most of the first act, by the time the end of Act 1 rolled around I was terrified I was going to be sick in the audience. In fact, it wasn’t until the cast album came out that I had any clue what happened to Angelica (too busy trying not to be sick). I was very confused how she came to be in London in Act 2. 

On a whole, when it comes to movie audience vs concert audiences vs theater audiences, the latter is almost always, in my experience, much kinder. But when it comes to getting to the bathroom once intermission has hit, all bets are off. So whether you’re about to vom or not, no one is letting you cut in line to the bathrooms. Unfortunately the Richard Rogers Theatre in New York only has one set of bathrooms...and they’re in the basement...which is a long way from the nosebleeds where our seats were. I made my way as quickly as the other patrons would allow, down to the bathroom line, but unfortunately, by that time it stretched through the lobby back into the main level of the theater almost to the stage. 

I got in line and began some deep breathing exercises, willing myself not to vomit in line. Then, I heard a voice I recognized behind me. Lena Dunham. I am/was a fan of Girls and this was my first celeb sighting in NYC and all I could think was “I am going to vomit in front of an HBO star”. Thankfully, despite the fact that the Richard Rogers only has one bathroom, there are a lot of stalls, so I was able to get in, be sick, and be back to my seat before the start of Act 2 (glamorous, I know). 

Act 2 was just as enchanting as Act 1. I was utterly STUNNED that Alexander cheated on Eliza with Maria Reynolds. Then Philip’s death and the aftermath was one of the most heart-wrenching things I’ve ever seen on stage. I’m not sure if it was the combination of coming in completely blind to the story, the talent of Lin, or a combination of both (ok, ok, obviously it was a combination of both) but it was one of the most incredible experiences of my life. 

I do still laugh at the fact that M and I immediately discussed the stage management aspects of Eliza actually burning the letter onstage and what anxiety that must have cause the crew. 

After the show, M and I ran out to the stage door for autographs. M was a big In the Heights fan and one of our college professors had worked with Lin before, so we were excited to meet him. I’d lived in London for a year during college and studied theater there. A huge benefit of being a theater nerd in London is that a ton of incredible actors perform almost constantly in town. So you learn quickly the best way of navigating the stage door. My biggest recommendation is buying a show poster. I can’t tell you my regret at having Judi Dench’s autograph INSIDE a playbill. So buy a poster if you want to display the autographs you get. 

I’d made sure M and I bought posters before the show and zipping out to the stage door was no problem. We were two of maybe 10 out there. I couldn't believe our luck when I saw photos and videos a few months later of hundreds upon hundreds mobbing the Hamilton stage door. We got to meet every single cast member (minus Groffsauce, but considering we saw Lea Michele and Darren Criss go in the stage door, wasn’t a surprise), as well as Alex Lacamoire. 

It was clear the second the show was done what a phenomenon Hamilton would be. Hearing every song, every note, it was obvious how wide-reaching and how appreciated this show and this music would be. 

So thank you Lin. For one of the best experiences of my life. For making people who never really “got” music theater, or theatre in general, learn to love a whole new medium. And I hope I get to see your show sometime when I am not on the verge of vomiting.

xox

A

[airoasis]

MyDigital6 Bitcoin Program-Official MD6 Intro Video 1 (of 2).

New Post has been published on https://hititem.kr/mydigital6-bitcoin-program-official-md6-intro-video-1-of-2/

MyDigital6 Bitcoin Program-Official MD6 Intro Video 1 (of 2).

So you wish to have to earn bitcoins i’ll exhibit you get bitcoins through a brand new incomes inspiration unlike anything ever earlier than visible in the end a official handy and extremely-quick Bitcoin opportunity for the ages my digital six has taken the historic-university and tremendously moneymaking chain letter modality but thirty years ago and changed it into an without problems conceivable brand new Bitcoin earning software stick around new acquaintances and put together to be amazed at how mydigital6 is going to alter your existence without end the Bitcoin incomes opportunity that’s provided at the Iceland born mydigital6.Is area is sheer genius and is a world’s first ever Bitcoin possibility of its sort. It combines some enormously innovative standards which have but to be introduced into an earning opportunity to this point. Incomes Bitcoin has not ever been faster or less complicated or more authentic in regards to how officials may interpret this program versus the subsequent that comes along. Constant smaller quantities of Bitcoin can begin to arrive into your possess individual Bitcoin wallet by means of the hour all day long should you come to a decision to initiate this simple proposal individuals take talents of what is a first-of-its-style Bitcoin earning opportunity combining modern-day on-line emailing and social applied sciences with an exciting platform concept much like that of the ancient world however totally rewarding chain letter modality of the late 70s through the 90s that many could nonetheless recall. Even though individuals had a hard time proving repayments being made between them again then physical chain letters still managed to attract ten to fifteen thousand or more greenbacks to a individual’s home through the postal approach within just mere weeks. These forms of profits might be realized from the initiating of only one single mail campaign assembled and a kitchen table within a couple of hours effort and did in fact for a lot of. To at the present time there has never really been whatever fairly so easy to initiate while being so powerful within the name of earning profits from home. They have been so robust in growing experience of wealth for the long-established household that they have been in-fact the direct intent for the construction of laws that to at the moment disallow bodily money to be mailed to at least one an additional even as beneath the pretense of getting rich quick. You’re about to be quite simply blown away at how this manufacturer-new legitimate floor shattering proposal takes the legal guidelines of duplication in exponential arithmetic that made chain letters so innovative in their day to a entire new degree online for you and your household here in our modern day times.Now as I get started here you’ll be able to have an interest to grasp that i have eradicated the accountability or fee proof flaw that the ordinary chain letter model incurred that a few of you would keep in mind. This delivered function alterations the sport dramatically benefiting all involved by giant margins. And no, we are not mailing something from house with this application. Many required updates have been brought right here to ensure legitimacy and longevity of this ground shattering and highly revolutionary application adhering to the various required country codes and recommendations on the way to make sure the longevity of this software was prime priority in developing this Bitcoin opportunity. Constructing the opportunity in a true evergreen capacity was once one more significant requirement of mine. Meaning it might probably provide pleasure and wealth to those that take part ten years from now just the identical as it is going to for folks getting concerned in these days. The utter simplicity of this software versus the insanely excessive dollars in Bitcoin it’s going to entice to your wallet in regular daily fashion helps to ensure this truth. The three matters which can be complete with the my digital six application within the name of legitimacy is that the program manages to establish actual consumers real products and real worth to these purchasers. This is important when now not best devising a winning long run professional sales possibility however when launching any business relatively, whether or not it’s on-line or off. I will guarantee you that if any of the quite a lot of retailers around your residence did not fall into compliance with these three ideas their doors would get closed briefly order. Rule number 1: There need to be purchasers that are generated from the public at gigantic that a enterprise’s products and services are to be offered to.Rule number 2: In retaining any business or opportunity workable in on point is that customers ought to obtain value for the greenbacks spent with the brand in question. In the end rule number 3 reflects the best way wherein cash flows by means of their ranks in any industry organization or possibility on the earth intellect you on-line or off. In the case of an possibility platform vs. A traditional trade type cash spent on merchandise and consequently fee’s earned need to be proportionate to all worried. Commissions ought to also be specially centered on product income made to end shoppers that are not part of any inside fee constitution.Reliable fee-payable opportunities can not with ease reward for recruiting only or for selling to present interior participants. Many online hyips, pyramids, cyclers, ponzi’s, and networking matrices are unlawful due to the fact with the aid of their very design-do not regularly accomplish any one of these principles let on my own all three. These typically hollow and 0 product-backed opportunities erode from the backside upwards over a brief interval of time or are without difficulty shut down through the powers that be. As good they should be too – they where unwell-conceived proper from the commonly benefiting the higher tiers of its infrastructure or worse yet, a sole operator perched up excessive atop its pyramid design, If one is to think the universal legal guidelines of appeal then one knows the creators of such packages will get what they have got coming to them. The existence force of our planet guarantees steadiness and justification to every being that exists upon it. Constant optimistic or poor movements regardless of the size, assemble the trail that each and every of us are on-founded on how we behave and treat our fellow man from daily. As a veteran online and networking marketer, creator, and official crypto day trader i have noticeable countless numbers and i imply hundreds and hundreds of bogus opportunities come across the internet above all due to the fact early 2016 when Bitcoin itself began to take some actual shape. 1000s of thousands of dollars were stripped faraway from so many by deceitful, in poor health-intended, and incredibly gifted crooks. Shysters that make use of incredibly progressive replica positioned on the best possible tech-savvy web sites with only one thing on their agenda. It’s this very phenomenon that led me to demand trade for thus many who of in any other case been financially injured and victimized by way of the countless and quite gifted wrongdoers of our brand new day. Although i’ve had countless networking leaders requests that I could create a software through the years seeing the conglomerates become a member of in additionally taking men and women for billions in late 2017 with bitcoins steep upward thrust and even turbo fall used to be the final turning factor for me. See; most do not realize how the banks. Insurance giants, governments, and institutional buying and selling firms played the middle category from August of 2017 to mid December drawing near 2018. When they need you to purchase at the perfect features they use interesting and perfectly timed online propaganda. When they need you to sell they once more manipulate the drops taking their revenue whilst feeding you poor propaganda to get you to promote low. Individuals have been played like puppets by means of these associations working in live performance in opposition to them, and that i just knew at that point that I’ve seen enough. Each single buck- each single penny that’s transacted in this software goes straight into the referring contributors individual Bitcoin account at any place that could be.There’s no hierarchy or stages or recruiting in mydigital6 application. In all truth the website online itself is only a customer referral hub or a digital product dispensary if you’re going to. Even when the website and program goes entirely computerized and self-replicating later this 12 months of 2018 the $1 by means of $6 digital product purchases will consistently go straight to the six members worried with the sale of six said products. These six brand new contemporary digital merchandise are of my construction and as of proper now you’re hereby completely licensed to promote them to your new patrons. Each member refers new purchasers one hundred% of the time-which by the way is solely probably the most things that makes this so profoundly actual and fully compliant let on my own entertaining and immensely profitable. However I promise you have not obvious something yet. The way in which wherein we flip a $21 one-time Bitcoin cost into hourly Bitcoin profits daily is an absolute wonder in this world of never-ending Bitcoin incomes possibility launches. And my bottom-dollar guess is that when you see the simplicity of this revolutionary and groundbreaking platform and how it goes to work for you the moment you implement it, you’ll jump right in and not ever seem back. And so begins what i hope is the greatest transfer of wealth back to the center category at all time. In video number 2 i will share how it’s that our individuals take full potential of the legal guidelines of exponential mathematics to generate potentially tens of enormous quantities in Bitcoin and considering the fact that coin arrive to them within as little as 36 hours of getting concerned. Sure I did say 36 hours. Some will say coin in a matter of minutes of sharing this Bitcoin incomes opportunity in all fact. And that’s how fast it is buddy. Anyway i’ve some earnings state of affairs charts to share with you in the subsequent video which can be distinct to get you radically excited and puzzling over all of the methods you’re going to look your wildest dreams subsequently coming authentic. When you have struggled in the past to dig your claws into whatever that truly labored wonders for you and yours – ready of producing revenue ongoing with no end in sight, you relatively owe it to yourself to come see how this inspiration can go to give you the results you want, If you know how to ship a easy e mail or drop a mobile name to a handful of context then your lifestyles is ready to vary and in the grandest of ways. I am hoping to peer you over at mydigital6.Is right now. It is now easier than in all of historical past to earn bitcoins. .

[batterymonster2021]

MyDigital6 Bitcoin Program-Official MD6 Intro Video 1 (of 2).

New Post has been published on https://hititem.kr/mydigital6-bitcoin-program-official-md6-intro-video-1-of-2/

MyDigital6 Bitcoin Program-Official MD6 Intro Video 1 (of 2).

So you wish to have to earn bitcoins i’ll exhibit you get bitcoins through a brand new incomes inspiration unlike anything ever earlier than visible in the end a official handy and extremely-quick Bitcoin opportunity for the ages my digital six has taken the historic-university and tremendously moneymaking chain letter modality but thirty years ago and changed it into an without problems conceivable brand new Bitcoin earning software stick around new acquaintances and put together to be amazed at how mydigital6 is going to alter your existence without end the Bitcoin incomes opportunity that’s provided at the Iceland born mydigital6.Is area is sheer genius and is a world’s first ever Bitcoin possibility of its sort. It combines some enormously innovative standards which have but to be introduced into an earning opportunity to this point. Incomes Bitcoin has not ever been faster or less complicated or more authentic in regards to how officials may interpret this program versus the subsequent that comes along. Constant smaller quantities of Bitcoin can begin to arrive into your possess individual Bitcoin wallet by means of the hour all day long should you come to a decision to initiate this simple proposal individuals take talents of what is a first-of-its-style Bitcoin earning opportunity combining modern-day on-line emailing and social applied sciences with an exciting platform concept much like that of the ancient world however totally rewarding chain letter modality of the late 70s through the 90s that many could nonetheless recall. Even though individuals had a hard time proving repayments being made between them again then physical chain letters still managed to attract ten to fifteen thousand or more greenbacks to a individual’s home through the postal approach within just mere weeks. These forms of profits might be realized from the initiating of only one single mail campaign assembled and a kitchen table within a couple of hours effort and did in fact for a lot of. To at the present time there has never really been whatever fairly so easy to initiate while being so powerful within the name of earning profits from home. They have been so robust in growing experience of wealth for the long-established household that they have been in-fact the direct intent for the construction of laws that to at the moment disallow bodily money to be mailed to at least one an additional even as beneath the pretense of getting rich quick. You’re about to be quite simply blown away at how this manufacturer-new legitimate floor shattering proposal takes the legal guidelines of duplication in exponential arithmetic that made chain letters so innovative in their day to a entire new degree online for you and your household here in our modern day times.Now as I get started here you’ll be able to have an interest to grasp that i have eradicated the accountability or fee proof flaw that the ordinary chain letter model incurred that a few of you would keep in mind. This delivered function alterations the sport dramatically benefiting all involved by giant margins. And no, we are not mailing something from house with this application. Many required updates have been brought right here to ensure legitimacy and longevity of this ground shattering and highly revolutionary application adhering to the various required country codes and recommendations on the way to make sure the longevity of this software was prime priority in developing this Bitcoin opportunity. Constructing the opportunity in a true evergreen capacity was once one more significant requirement of mine. Meaning it might probably provide pleasure and wealth to those that take part ten years from now just the identical as it is going to for folks getting concerned in these days. The utter simplicity of this software versus the insanely excessive dollars in Bitcoin it’s going to entice to your wallet in regular daily fashion helps to ensure this truth. The three matters which can be complete with the my digital six application within the name of legitimacy is that the program manages to establish actual consumers real products and real worth to these purchasers. This is important when now not best devising a winning long run professional sales possibility however when launching any business relatively, whether or not it’s on-line or off. I will guarantee you that if any of the quite a lot of retailers around your residence did not fall into compliance with these three ideas their doors would get closed briefly order. Rule number 1: There need to be purchasers that are generated from the public at gigantic that a enterprise’s products and services are to be offered to.Rule number 2: In retaining any business or opportunity workable in on point is that customers ought to obtain value for the greenbacks spent with the brand in question. In the end rule number 3 reflects the best way wherein cash flows by means of their ranks in any industry organization or possibility on the earth intellect you on-line or off. In the case of an possibility platform vs. A traditional trade type cash spent on merchandise and consequently fee’s earned need to be proportionate to all worried. Commissions ought to also be specially centered on product income made to end shoppers that are not part of any inside fee constitution.Reliable fee-payable opportunities can not with ease reward for recruiting only or for selling to present interior participants. Many online hyips, pyramids, cyclers, ponzi’s, and networking matrices are unlawful due to the fact with the aid of their very design-do not regularly accomplish any one of these principles let on my own all three. These typically hollow and 0 product-backed opportunities erode from the backside upwards over a brief interval of time or are without difficulty shut down through the powers that be. As good they should be too – they where unwell-conceived proper from the commonly benefiting the higher tiers of its infrastructure or worse yet, a sole operator perched up excessive atop its pyramid design, If one is to think the universal legal guidelines of appeal then one knows the creators of such packages will get what they have got coming to them. The existence force of our planet guarantees steadiness and justification to every being that exists upon it. Constant optimistic or poor movements regardless of the size, assemble the trail that each and every of us are on-founded on how we behave and treat our fellow man from daily. As a veteran online and networking marketer, creator, and official crypto day trader i have noticeable countless numbers and i imply hundreds and hundreds of bogus opportunities come across the internet above all due to the fact early 2016 when Bitcoin itself began to take some actual shape. 1000s of thousands of dollars were stripped faraway from so many by deceitful, in poor health-intended, and incredibly gifted crooks. Shysters that make use of incredibly progressive replica positioned on the best possible tech-savvy web sites with only one thing on their agenda. It’s this very phenomenon that led me to demand trade for thus many who of in any other case been financially injured and victimized by way of the countless and quite gifted wrongdoers of our brand new day. Although i’ve had countless networking leaders requests that I could create a software through the years seeing the conglomerates become a member of in additionally taking men and women for billions in late 2017 with bitcoins steep upward thrust and even turbo fall used to be the final turning factor for me. See; most do not realize how the banks. Insurance giants, governments, and institutional buying and selling firms played the middle category from August of 2017 to mid December drawing near 2018. When they need you to purchase at the perfect features they use interesting and perfectly timed online propaganda. When they need you to sell they once more manipulate the drops taking their revenue whilst feeding you poor propaganda to get you to promote low. Individuals have been played like puppets by means of these associations working in live performance in opposition to them, and that i just knew at that point that I’ve seen enough. Each single buck- each single penny that’s transacted in this software goes straight into the referring contributors individual Bitcoin account at any place that could be.There’s no hierarchy or stages or recruiting in mydigital6 application. In all truth the website online itself is only a customer referral hub or a digital product dispensary if you’re going to. Even when the website and program goes entirely computerized and self-replicating later this 12 months of 2018 the $1 by means of $6 digital product purchases will consistently go straight to the six members worried with the sale of six said products. These six brand new contemporary digital merchandise are of my construction and as of proper now you’re hereby completely licensed to promote them to your new patrons. Each member refers new purchasers one hundred% of the time-which by the way is solely probably the most things that makes this so profoundly actual and fully compliant let on my own entertaining and immensely profitable. However I promise you have not obvious something yet. The way in which wherein we flip a $21 one-time Bitcoin cost into hourly Bitcoin profits daily is an absolute wonder in this world of never-ending Bitcoin incomes possibility launches. And my bottom-dollar guess is that when you see the simplicity of this revolutionary and groundbreaking platform and how it goes to work for you the moment you implement it, you’ll jump right in and not ever seem back. And so begins what i hope is the greatest transfer of wealth back to the center category at all time. In video number 2 i will share how it’s that our individuals take full potential of the legal guidelines of exponential mathematics to generate potentially tens of enormous quantities in Bitcoin and considering the fact that coin arrive to them within as little as 36 hours of getting concerned. Sure I did say 36 hours. Some will say coin in a matter of minutes of sharing this Bitcoin incomes opportunity in all fact. And that’s how fast it is buddy. Anyway i’ve some earnings state of affairs charts to share with you in the subsequent video which can be distinct to get you radically excited and puzzling over all of the methods you’re going to look your wildest dreams subsequently coming authentic. When you have struggled in the past to dig your claws into whatever that truly labored wonders for you and yours – ready of producing revenue ongoing with no end in sight, you relatively owe it to yourself to come see how this inspiration can go to give you the results you want, If you know how to ship a easy e mail or drop a mobile name to a handful of context then your lifestyles is ready to vary and in the grandest of ways. I am hoping to peer you over at mydigital6.Is right now. It is now easier than in all of historical past to earn bitcoins. .

[biofunmy]

Ahoy There, Mommy! Family Sails Around World on YouTube

NEWPORT, R.I. — They met in Ios, Greece: locking eyes across the town square, both in their 20s then. (She had noticed his distinctive mustache.) Elayna Carausu was playing guitar and singing for a travel company; Riley Whitelum was living on the sailboat he had bought with money saved from working for years on oil rigs.

When he told her had a boat, she thought it was a pickup line.

Luckily he had learned a few things in the months before that encounter. Despite having grown up, like Ms. Carausu, mostly in coastal Australia, Mr. Whitelum had no sailing experience before he bought a barely used 43-foot Beneteau from three bickering Italians.

Ms. Carausu was, thank heavens, not on board the night it nearly sank. It was moored off Dubrovnik, Croatia, slowly taking on water from a hidden leak, when it was swamped by the wake from a fishing boat.

Mr. Whitelum had kept the bilge pumps off to save electricity, a rookie mistake, and he awoke to a cabin awash in water. After pumping it out, he turned to Google: “My boat is sinking, what do I do?”

Google responded, koan-like. “‘All boats are sinking,’” he recalled reading. “‘The main factor is how fast. Don’t panic. Find the source of the leak.’”

Six years later, Mr. Whitelum, now 32, not only no longer has to ask Google for help, he and Ms. Carausu, 26, have also become YouTube stars for their adventures at sea.

More than a million people subscribe to their channel, Sailing La Vagabonde (the name of their boat), which has chronicled their life aboard in endearing, instructive and sometimes terrifying videos: two Atlantic and one Pacific crossings; maggoty trash; broken equipment; storms and becalmings; scaldings and other injuries; the boredom of weeks offshore when you’ve read all your books; would-be pirates; and this year, a stowaway, their 10-month-old son, Lenny.

There are many, many sailing YouTubers, including Brian Trautman, a former Microsoft analyst, and his brother, Brady. Their channel, named for their boat, SV Delos, has almost 356,000 subscribers, and patrons can apply to be crew online.

And there are many attractive people exploring beautiful locations clad only in their bathing suits, as Ms. Carausu and Mr. Whitelum often are.

But in this sprawling universe that also covers the shred guitarists, the dadaist live streamers, the haul girls, the van dwellers and the extreme eaters, the couple stands out because they are good television; escapism without the queasy aftermath. Joshua Slocums for the digital age, they offer a view of life in authentically challenging circumstances, in contrast to the manufactured dramas the medium typically invites.

Since they began posting in late 2014, Ms. Carausu and Mr. Whitelum’s videos have become more polished, thanks to a drone, multiple cameras and editing help. “Our Morning Routine Onboard,” posted at the end of May, has nearly three million views.

Maybe what compels is simply their competence and equanimity. There is no whinging on board La Vagabonde.

Or maybe it’s the accent, shown off when Mr. Whitelum, for example, reads David Foster Wallace, his favorite author. It is doubtful that any member of the badly behaving crews on “Below Deck,” the Bravo reality show about life on megayachts now in its seventh season, is passing around copies of “The Pale King.”

Trading Up

On a recent Saturday, the couple were at home on their catamaran, which was docked at Gurney’s Newport Resort & Marina. Lenny was gnawing an apple and playing with a USB cord. He has barely any baby gear, and fewer toys: a Jolly Jumper; a baby seat; a stick, a triangle and a pair of tiny cymbals.

“To explain the obvious,” Mr. Whitelum said, “boat living is enforced minimalism.”

The boat’s engine was broken and they had been in town waiting for parts for over a week, guests of Sean Kellershon, the dock master at Gurney’s.

Mr. Kellershon has been following their adventures for years; when he saw that they were heading north after months in the Bahamas, he offered them a spot at the marina. “They just seemed like really cool people,” he said.

Mr. Whitelum was wearing what looked like a Star Wars T-shirt, except that Mark Hamill’s face had been replaced with his own; Carrie Fisher’s with Ms. Carausu’s; and under Darth Vader’s helmet was Lenny. Designed by a fan, it’s La Vagabonde merchandise, $29, made by an ecologically conscious company in Los Angeles.

The couple sells shirts, hoodies, totes, sailing guides and cookbooks they have written from their website, mailed in compostable envelopes. But they make most of their living from patrons: about 3,500 subscribers who pay $3 to $10 for early access to the videos and other perks, like the chance to meet the couple for dinner and a sail, perhaps, if La Vagabonde comes to their town.

Ms. Carausu and Mr. Whitelum’s living costs are moderate. Ms. Carausu estimated they might spend $400 every two weeks on groceries in places they can catch their own fish, and $400 every two months or so on diesel fuel. They run their engine as little as possible, and charge their batteries with solar and wind power.

Still, boat maintenance is expensive. Conventional wisdom says that once a boat is more than two years old, it costs 15 percent of its purchase price every year. Their elegant and airy new boat, a 48-foot Outremer, is about two and a half years old, and lists for about $780,000.

After having seen one in Los Roques, an archipelago off Venezuela, Mr. Whitelum wooed the company, which built a boat designed specially for the couple, and arranged a lease they could pay monthly at a slightly discounted rate.

On forums like Reddit, fans have debated the couple’s good fortune. Had they sold out? Were they still relatable? Could you learn from their videos if they were sailing such a high-end craft? Was their video making work anyway?

But as one poster noted, “ … people think that just anyone can get a GO PRO and do a YouTube Channel, get on Patreon and make hay. It just does not work this way. It actually takes quite a bit of onscreen talent and editing skills to get viewers … I’ll admit it. I just like these people.”

Mr. Whitelum and Ms. Carausu did not set out to be YouTube personalities. Mr. Whitelum skipped university and started a business digging trenches for Australia’s phone company before going to work on oil rigs for eight years. Between three-week shifts, he backpacked around the world, intent on saving his money.

At the start of a trip through South America, he broke his neck in the surf at Copacabana beach in Rio. The surgery temporarily paralyzed his vocal cords, and he couldn’t speak or work for six months. Though he had sailed only once, a miserable three days beating into the wind off Southern Australia, he said, it was his dream to buy a boat and learn how to handle it.

“‘O.K., so you’re going to be alone forever then,’” a friend predicted darkly.

‘What About the Sharks?’

Ms. Carausu had been a tomboy with two older brothers who learned to ride a motorcycle before she ever got on a bike; she learned to drive a motorboat before graduating from high school, where her curriculum included marine studies and aquaculture.

Afterward, she worked as a dive master in Queensland, Australia, living in a Kia van she painted and fixed up until the fateful trip to Ios. A travel company had hired her after seeing her in videos she had posted on Facebook, and she quit two weeks early to go sailing with Mr. Whitelum.

They had known each other barely more than a month when he said, “It would be great if you’d sail the world with me.” Ms. Carausu decided to sell all her belongs and go for it.

“I had always hung around guys who didn’t have any goals and here was this sailor guy who just got stuff done,” she said. “I knew he was going to go far, and I wanted to be a part of that.”

“‘What about the waves? What about the sharks?’” Ms. Carausu remembered her mother saying. “Deep-ocean sailing for her was a combination of ‘Jaws’ and ‘The Perfect Storm,’” which was one reason Ms. Carausu began posting reassuring footage of their trip, using a Canon Power Shot.

The first videos are very much like home movies, charting progress south from the Mediterranean to Cape Verde, and then across the Atlantic. “I saw something good in what we were doing,” Ms. Carausu said, “and I thought people would be interested. I wanted to put them up on YouTube, but Riley wouldn’t let me.”

But by Malta, a month in, he had relented. Within a few weeks of its posting, their first video had over 70,000 views. “She was flipping out, and I was like, ‘Cool, but what does it mean?’ For five months it was still a hobby,” Mr. Whitelum said.

After their first Atlantic crossing, funds were low. By Grenada, they were broke. As they prepared to fly home to work, having hauled the boat out of the water there, they announced their plans in a video to let their community know that would be the last for a while.

Subscribers turned into paying patrons by the hundreds. It took some time, however, for Mr. Whitelum to wrap his head around the idea of being crowdfunded. “That was really hard for me,” he said, “taking money from strangers.”

The filming process typically takes three days; after Lenny’s birth, Ms. Carausu hired an editor to make the initial cuts, though she puts the finishing touches on before posting. They hope to keep sailing, boat-school Lenny and continue to make videos, Kardashians-like, but wholesome and afloat.

Ms. Carausu has designed a line of swimwear she calls Vaga Bella Swim, made from recycled, ocean-harvested plastic trash, and plans to donate the proceeds to a charity.

“I’ve always been dreaming of the perfect bikini,” she said. “Something that looks a little bit sexy, but that you can spearfish and dive in without having a body part fall out.” The couple is also hoping to turn the boat into a vessel with zero or low emissions.

Once their engine was fixed, they rode a nor’easter to the Annapolis Boat Show in Maryland, surfing 30 knots of wind for three nights and four days, to meet up with hundreds of patrons there.

Currently they are sailing to Charleston, S.C., where they will leave the boat with friends for two months so they can return home for the Christmas holidays. Then they’ll take the boat through the Panama Canal, and across the Pacific to Australia, a first for them, and circumnavigate their home country, with all the challenges that will bring.

“One year on a boat is like 10 on land,” Mr. Whitelum said. “Now it’s as if we’ve been married for 50 years. If you’re not sure about a partner, take them sailing.”

Sahred From Source link Travel

from WordPress http://bit.ly/2qBAUi1 via IFTTT