#i had my dream snake ive wanted since i was young. i was starting an amazing new job. i was feeling better mentally.

[sadorkable]

I had my snake for three days. And they squirmed out through the teeniest little slit in the lid that they shouldn't have been able to fit through. I've disassembled and searched through every piece of the room and the nearby rooms. Twice. It's looking like they went into the vents. Or the walls.

I've put out water and hides and pinkies in the vents and along the walls. I just want the little baby back and safe 💔

[callmeelle22]

Blue Dream, V

Pairing: Iris West x Barry Alen

Rating: E

Chapter Word Count:7, 733

Summary: A series of sporadic dates between Iris and Barry turn into something more, a story in its own making.

Chapter I: Primetime

Chapter II: It's Cool

Chapter III: Anything

Chapter IV: Comfortable

Chapter V: The Way; He doesn’t fumble the chance to touch her, and so he presses a hand to the small of her back and follows her as she sways, humming the song that’s playing, is it the way you love me, baby? is it the way you love me, baby?, ignoring the obvious implication as they move. She puts her face in to the crook of his neck, inhales the clean scent of him. His sweater is soft and he’s hard against her, humming along too. They shouldn’t be like this, here, but Iris is starting to get caught up in it, their story. (Read below or on the AO3 link on the chapter title.)

Chapter VI: Can't Take My Eyes Off of You

Chapter VII: I'm in Love with You

Chapter VIII: Blue Dream

The Way

Woke up this morning

With a smile on my face

Barry: I had to look for crime clues at the bottom of a snake pit today. Hope your day was better than mine.

Iris: Well, I had to go off on a freshman student for coming at me about her shitty article, so not likely.

Barry: Yeah? Did it get physical?

Iris: Don’t be a cliche.

Barry: :)

Barry: Watched an episode of this Bridgerton show you like. I don’t get the hype.

Iris: Two words: Simon Bassett

Barry: Hmm.

Barry: I’m certain I look better.

Iris: Don’t lie to yourself like that.

Barry: Damn. Burn.

Iris: How will you ever recover?

Barry: I’m sure if I get you spread out over my face, I could.

Barry: And get you to forget about Simon Bassett too.

Iris:

Barry: Iris?

Iris: Sorry; I spilled my coffee.

Iris: I’ve thought of my next question.

Barry: Yeah?

Iris: What would be an ideal date for you?

Barry: Any one that you’re on with me.

Iris: That’s a cop out answer, Bear.

Barry: Bear?

Iris: I’m trying it out.

Barry: I can get behind that. Bears are polite dicks, right?

Iris: I hate you.

Barry: I’ve got a couple of scratches on my neck that prove you don’t.

Iris:

Barry: Baby?

Iris: Be serious. Ideal date.

Barry: I am.

Barry: You make me smile, Iris. You’re pretty and kind, even if you get a little grumpy sometimes. I’ve had a great time with you, when we’re walking around or having dinner or eating sandwiches by the lake. When we’re getting high or having sex.

Barry: And I want to keep getting to know you. So I am being serious. My ideal date is any one that you’re on with me.

Iris: How am I supposed to even respond to that.

Iris: Be ready on Tuesday at 6. Can you swing it?

Barry: I can.

Iris: Dress a little dressier than casual.

Barry: Did you get them?

Iris: Yes, Barry, they’re beautiful. What are they?

Barry: They’re called camellias.

Iris: I was very surprised to see them on my porch when I got home. And I love the vase too.

Iris: Really. Thank you. I don’t think anyone has ever gotten me flowers before.

Barry: Just wanted you to know I was thinking about you. I can’t wait to see you on Tuesday, baby.

Iris: Me either, Bear.

Iris: I think I still smell you on my couch, and I cleaned it. That’s ridiculous, right?

Barry: Only if me being able to still smell you on my fingers is.

Iris: What are you doing to me, Barry?

Barry: Nothing you aren’t already doing to me.

Barry: I was grinning down at my phone earlier and Chester and Cisco started giving me shit about you.

Barry: They told me I’m whipped.

Iris: Better than your boss announcing in her office that she’s glad you’re apparently getting good sex.

Barry: You are.

Iris: 🙄

Iris: Not lately.

Barry: Soon, baby.

Barry: And Iris?

Iris: Yeah?

Barry: I am.

Barry: Whipped.

“Who’s on the phone?”

It’s another Sunday night, a week after she’s last seen Barry. Mid-term prep and a triple homicide case have kept them both busy. They’ve exchanged a few text messages throughout the week and have tried to meet up for coffee once, though their schedules didn’t align.

She’s done her usual Sunday cleaning routine since she didn’t get a chance the week before and she’s even taken the time to condition and twist out her hair instead of flat ironing it as she normally would. Now, she sits back in one corner of her sofa, Law & Order: SVU playing in the background on the television and Linda and Wally sitting on the other side of the couch and in the armchair, respectively. Her laptop is in her lap and she’s cleaning up her “Loving” post before she officially posts it. Linda is writing, likely working on her new manuscript, and Wally is doing homework, books laid out on the arm of the chair and on the floor too.

She doesn’t answer right away because she’s unsure if she’s ready to tell yet. They’ve been texting all week and Iris feels even more like a teenager with a crush. She’s been going to bed with images of him in her head, of his kiss and his touch and the fact that he really did make her come all over his face on a blanket outside by the lake. And she can’t ignore the fact that she likes him. He’s funny and the likable kind of asshole and he says these sweet things that catch her off guard every. single. time. The flowers he’d dropped off when she was still at work on Friday are sitting on the counter, a mix of red and white flowers with open petals, short stems, and big green leaves.

“Iris?”

“Hmm?” She looks up from the last messages, I am. Whipped., and it’s to stare at her brother and best friend, who are watching her back. “What?”

“Who’re you texting?”

“I’m not texting anyone.”

“For a storyteller,” Linda says, “you are a horrible liar.”

“Take the phone, Linda,” Wally says, and Iris looks over at him, appalled. Wally is a handsome kid, 20 going on 37, with skin the same dusky shade as Iris’s and dark brown eyes, his hair tapered on the sides and higher, curlier on the top.

“What do you mean take my phone?”

Linda carefully sets her laptop to the side, and before Iris can ask another question, Linda jumps over to the side of the couch, reaching for Iris’s phone.

“Get away from me, you idiot,” Iris screams, and with Wally’s encouragement, Linda climbs onto Iris’s lap and snatches the phone from her hand. Wally hops up from his own seat to hold Iris down so that Iris can’t get up. She tries to struggle against him, but it’s no use. For a limber thing, Wally is strong.

“Who is it?”

As Iris makes note of the fact that she should definitely change her phone passcode, she settles under her brother’s hold as Linda looks through her phone.

“We’re gonna have to talk about privacy,” she grumbles.

Luckily, the text messages don’t go back as far as she’s known Barry, but unfortunately, there’s no hiding their budding relationship.

“Who is Barry?” Linda says, eyebrows raised high as she slides through. “And where can I get one?”

“You already have one,” Iris replies dryly.

“I guess,” Linda says, “But Dan’s not telling me he wants me to spread out on his face in a text message.”

“Iris!” Wally shouts.

“Wally is too young to hear all of this,” Iris tries.

“Oh please,” Linda says. “Let’s not forget that I caught him and that Johnathan guy hooking up in a closet at your dad’s house. Your little brother was on his knees.” That she adds with a saucy little grin.

“Can we actually not talk about me or the apparent fact that my sister’s getting tongued down by someone named Barry?”

“I’m okay with that.”

Linda bounces back to her side of the sofa, still holding on to Iris’s phone. “Well, I’m not. I mean, Wally I am 100% fine with never seeing you deepthroat a dick again. But I do want to know why my best friend is apparently out here pussy whipping white men named Barry and I don’t know about it.”

“How do you know he’s white?”

She gets the eye from both Linda and Wally.

“Okay, fine. He’s white. But he’s really nice.”

“Alright.” Linda catches her gaze and holds it, her brown eyes curious and, if Iris isn’t mistaken, a little sad. She glances over at the still beautiful bouquet of camellia flowers. “So he’s white and nice and he’s apparently buying you flowers too. Tell me more.”

Maybe this is what she needs, some girl-talk. There’s no real reason that she hasn’t told Linda about Barry, other than they haven’t really had real time to talk since their brunch a couple of weeks back. Well, and maybe it’s more than that. Maybe it’s the reality that she doesn’t know what’s happening with her and Barry, not really, and (in her head) there’s a sort of taboo about speaking on it, about making it real when it isn’t.

“He’s…” she starts, and then she pauses. “I need wine for this.”

“Me too!” Wally says as she disappears into the kitchen. She hears Linda tell Wally that he’s still not 21, even though his birthday is only a couple of weeks away, and so he can’t drink, but Iris pours up three glasses of the red wine on her counter anyway. There’s no telling what the conversation will bring.

She carefully takes the glasses back to the living room. The other two have fully abandoned their work and are sitting on the sofa waiting for her. They both make grabby hands for the wine and she passes the glasses over before plopping down in the middle of them.

“Okay, first things first,” Wally starts. “How’d you meet him?”

“I went out dancing,” she answers. “I guess a few weeks ago at this point. And…”

“A few weeks?” Linda interrupts.

Iris sips from her glass to avoid making eye contact after the bit of ire in Linda’s tone.

“Yeah,” she continues after a pause. “I went out and we came back here. He was gone the next morning and I thought that was it. But then he showed up a week later and we hung out again. I saw him at the Fall Fest after our brunch, Linda, and we had dinner. Last Sunday, he took me on a picnic.”

“Okay,” Linda says, “but tell me about him.”

“I don’t know; he’s…” she searches for what to say, to put words to the ways she’s been seeing him in her head, to the way she’s been feeling him in her heart. “Maybe nice is too easy a word because he’s not really nice. He’s polite; like he pays for meals and he walks me to my car and he says please. But he’s also got a little oomph to him, ya know. Like he doesn’t look like it, but he’s a little bit, a little commanding, and…”

“Wait, what do you mean commanding? Like is he trying to tell you what to do? Because…”

“No, Wally. I mean like...”

“In the bedroom?” Linda guesses and Iris nods. “Nice.”

“Good for you,” Wally says.

She waits until they’re done laughing at her irritated expression.

“Sorry,” Linda says. “He’s a freak. What else?”

“I don’t know. He’s kinda funny. Like, he doesn’t tell jokes but he’ll say something to try to push my buttons and it makes me laugh. Or he’ll laugh at himself and that makes me laugh too. And even though you can tell he’s pretty confident in himself, there are still these instances where he’s a little awkward and he blushes and it’s...sweet.” And he makes me feel a little less lonely, she doesn’t add, and like he could be someone that I could come to count on.

Her brother and best friend are both quiet after this and when Iris looks from one to the other, she frowns.

“What?”

“Iris, you like him.” This from Linda.

“It’s only been a couple of dates,” she deflects.

“Yeah,” Wally agrees, “and he’s already calling you baby.”

Linda hums. “That might have a little to do with the pussy whipping.”

“Yes, that makes sense.”

“In any case,” Linda says, before Iris can respond. “If he’s all of this, why are you keeping it a secret?”

“Because I don’t know what we’re doing. I thought it was just sex. I mean he came back over after the first time for sex. But now, it’s, it’s…”

“More?” Linda tries.

“Right.”

“And you’re afraid that it’s gonna end before it even starts.”

Iris doesn’t know how Linda does it. She’s always been able to see right through Iris, in a way that would be scary if she didn’t appreciate it so much. Because that’s the truth, isn’t it? Iris is scared because it’s only been weeks and she likes this guy so much already. Even after their first night, when Iris was sure she’d never see him again, she’d felt a stirring of something in her gut, something strong and big and, and important. And it doesn’t make any sense, because all they’ve really done is have sex, albeit phenomenal sex, and talk about their hobbies a little. But she’s feeling feelings she’s never felt before and it’s all a bit...much. Feelings like this don’t last. They falter or they change, turning into things undefinable, charged, angry.

“It’s too soon, though, right?” She tries. “Like, we still don’t even really know each other and…”

“Don’t do that, Iris,” Wally interrupts, his voice a warning.

“Do what?”

“Think about ending it,” Linda says. “Ride it out. I know you have this need to try to figure out how things will end. And I can understand that. But, Iris, this man likes you. He’s telling you his feelings. And you obviously like him. So let that be okay for now. Trust that.”

Iris is not expecting the cute one-story modern farmhouse she pulls up to. It’s made of gray brick and white shiplap and there’s a flower garden on either side of the walkway that leads to the porch. A swinging chair hangs on one side of the porch and a couple of rocking chairs sit on the other and if Barry wasn’t already walking out of the house when she stopped her car in front, she might think she was at the wrong place.

The weather has gotten cooler in the evenings and so he’s dressed in a pair of dark plaid slacks that fit to the long length of him and a sift black sweater. She stifles a hysterical giggle at how it matches her own white cashmere sweater tucked into a black pleated skirt that hems just under her knees. She watches him stroll to her car and climb in.

“I was gonna come to the door and get you,” Iris says. “Like on a proper date.”

He shoots her a grin, cheeks pink. “I, uh, I was excited to see you.”

She hears Linda in her head saying, ‘you obviously like him; let that be okay for now,’ and so she smiles at Barry.

“You’re so sweet, it’s irritating.”

He gives her a wider dorky grin and she can’t help but smile back, wider than before.

“And this house is really nice.”

His smile turns softer, sadder. “Yeah. It was my parents’. Just want to keep it nice for them.”

“Well I don’t know if you’ve turned the inside into a dungeon, but you’re certainly keeping it nice outside.”

“Thanks, Iris. I’ve learned that I’ve got quite the green thumb trying to keep it up.” He wiggles his hands at her as she’s putting the car into drive and pulling off.

“Wait, so you tend to garden yourself?”

He nods. “Yeah. Both of my parents were into gardening. Well, my mom really liked flowers but she couldn’t really make anything grow. So she got my dad into it and he could, which annoyed her to no end.”

Iris shoots him a soft grin. “Is that what the tattoo is about? I’ve been wondering.”

“Yeah. I get two new flowers every year, one on my mom’s birthday and the other on the anniversary of her death.”

“That’s really sweet, Barry.”

She turns her attention back to the road. A man who, in addition to what she’s seen so far, is committed to keeping his mother’s memory alive? Yeah, she’s fucked.

Greenwood Art Gallery has only been open for a few months. A nod to the name of the neighborhood down in Tulsa that was once the home of a Black cultural and economic mecca, the art gallery features art by Black artists across the diaspora. Tonight is the opening night of a new artist showing, a young woman named Lauryn Morgan who’s a Central City native. Iris and Wally had gone together to their first showing, a curated collection of art focusing on Black American culture through the centuries. The showing tonight is called “The Way,” and is a series of art, canvas paintings and mixed-media prints, that focus on love in all of their forms.

The gallery is in a beautiful space in a reconstructed warehouse. There are a few exposed brick walls, but the place is largely filled with white walls and great lighting, art taking up every corner of the room. There is a large crowd there, when Iris walks through the front door with Barry at her side. Her black pumps have a silver ankle chain and a tall stiletto heel that puts her to his shoulder, and would make it easier to reach out and grab his hand. She doesn’t. Not yet, at least.

They stop first by a bar set up in one corner of the room. It’s a pretty wooden structure manned by two women in black dresses, both of their hair in locs and falling down their backs. The song for which the artist’s collection is named is playing from a speaker, Jill Scott’s sultry, smiling voice making the words jumped out of bed, took a shower, dressed; cleaned up my place; made me some breakfast, toast; two scrambled eggs, grits; grabbed my keys, grabbed my purse; grabbed my jacket, off to work; beaming all the way down third sound like some sort of ode to life and love. Iris insists on paying for their first glass of wine since it is her date, and they bicker good-naturedly about it as they wait for one of the bartenders to pour over full glasses of the chilled white wine.

“I’m paying for the next one,” Barry tells her, and she just shakes her head, mumbling “we’ll see” as she takes the glass from the brown-skinned woman with a smile.

“I’ve been wanting to come here,” Barry says as he presses a hand to her lower back as they move further into the room. It’s packed; the crowd seems like the normal art crowd around Central City, twenty- and thirty-somethings dressed in everything from tulle skirts to ripped jeans and boots to full on suits. The sea of faces run the line in skin color, from darker than chocolate and paler than vanilla and then all of the flavors in between. It’s one of the things she finds fascinating about Central City, an idea that is pushed every time she writes a new story about the power of people coming together, pushing stereotypes, making targeted efforts to understand.

“My brother and I came when it first opened,” she answers. “But I’ve been reading up on this artist and I’m really excited to see her work.”

Barry nods. “Thanks for wanting to share it with me.”

“Art is just another way that people tell stories,” she gives a little shrug. “And Black stories are extremely important to me.”

He gives her that look that he does, that wondering, curious sort of look, as if he’s always trying to understand what lies beyond the surface to what she isn’t actually saying. Maybe that is what he’s doing. Because then he nods again and smiles before pressing a kiss to her temple.

“I hear you,” he says seriously. “And I want to learn about that, to celebrate that.”

And well, okay then.

“What’s the story behind this one, do you think?”

It’s the first time Barry has really engaged with her. He’s been content to follow her from painting to painting, making small comments about how he likes this one or that one, but otherwise just following, watching. They started at one end of the exhibit, where it had been a little crowded and they moved along the lines of the walls, stopping at the ones placed haphazardly in the middle of the room too.

The art has been phenomenal, some platonic or familial, others romantic or erotic. She’s seen some featuring groups of Black women of various shades at a wine night or reading in a library; Black men playing pickup basketball or talking smack at the barbershop. She’s smiled at the ones that remind her of when she and Wally would sit on the couch watching movies or when her dad would try to comb her hair before he decided to just shell out money to get her hair professionally done.

The romantic canvas paintings have been her favorite: the one of a man and a woman dancing, their faces out of the frame, their bodies aligned and in shadows, the viewer understanding that this is not only a dance; another of two women lying in bed, one woman’s dark breasts bared, the other with a sheet covering the curve of her hip, the love evident in their pleased expressions; yet another of two men, standing in an embrace in the light of a window, towels tucked into their waists, the one with waist-length locs tucked into the neck of one with a high fade. It goes like this, with the mixed media prints of individuals celebrating their femininity, their masculinity, their androgyny.

The one Barry asks about is tucked away in the farther end of the exhibit. They’re alone back here for the most part, with people still largely at the front of the gallery, the occasional guest walking through to take a quick look before leaving. The painting is beautiful, another man and woman, in 20s era clothing, a sultry blue dress pushed up high on her thigh and a pair of suspenders falling off of his shoulders. He’s holding a saxophone and a microphone cord is wrapped around her bangled wrist, but there’s no mistaking that they aren’t playing for a crowd at the moment.

“It looks like the 20s era which, outside of the rampant racism, seems like a time I would have actually like to visit as a Black person. The art, the music, the literature. Everything was so, I don’t know, intimate, I think. People weren’t afraid to lay it all out in their art.” She turns to find him watching her, his expression thoughtful and a touch sensuous, like he’s think of laying it out, laying her out right now. She licks her lips, slowly, and continues, “They’re taking a break from making music; or rather, they’re making another kind. It’s why I love music, especially blues and R & B. Music is a story too, heightened senses and heated bodies and it’s feeling.”

On an impulse, she takes his hand and pulls him close, her other hand resting on his shoulders. They’d finished their wine and placed the glasses in one of the discreet bins placed around the gallery a couple of prints ago and they’re empty-handed. He doesn’t fumble the chance to touch her, and so he presses a hand to the small of her back and follows her as she sways, humming the song that’s playing, is it the way you love me, baby? is it the way you love me, baby?, ignoring the obvious implication as they move. She puts her face in to the crook of his neck, inhales the clean scent of him. His sweater is soft and he’s hard against her, humming along too. They shouldn’t be like this, here, but Iris is starting to get caught up in it, their story. It’s hard to hold on to fear, when he’s like this with her. They’re doing nothing but dancing in a crowded art gallery; they’ve done nothing but stare and laugh and fuck. But it’s been more, hasn’t it? A story she’s been writing since the moment he asked her to dance.

“You can feel it, right?” she asks, a little quietly. The sounds around them are stark, the low murmurs of the other guests, the laughs they emit. She can feel his heavy breathing and hers is no lesser, mixing with the tap of her heels on the wood floors, the thick tapping of her heart she wouldn’t be surprised he could actually hear. But they still seem to be in some sort of bubble, one where she can only focus on his humming, a baritone that hints at a nice singing voice, and the feel of him holding her.

“Yes,” he responds, just as quietly, and Iris doesn’t know the question she’s really asking the answer to. Or, maybe she does. Maybe it was written before she understood that it had been for her, and all she’s done ‘til now, and all she’s been ‘til now, has led her here. Maybe all of the stories she has written have prepared her to live in her own, to cling to this feeling, even if society would have her think it’s too soon or too much or far too scary. But she won’t voice it, not for real, not until those vestiges of fear are all gone.

They move, only for moments more, wrapped up in one another, his hand on her waist and hers on his shoulder, until they hear the sound of shoes on the floor and the muffled sound of laughter, pulling them away from each other.

They leave the gallery soon after that, and Iris is starving. She, likely against her better judgment, makes the decision to take Barry to Golden’s. She knows that Linda is tending bar tonight and the food is amazing, and she thinks that maybe it’ll go a little way in mending the bend between her and her friend. She can understand her sentiment; rarely do Iris and Linda keep secrets from each other. Iris knows that it’s been her own shit that’s kept her quiet, the feeling like she’s floating out on a piece of string and it would take only a snap for her to break away. Maybe keeping Barry quiet had been her way of holding on to him for as long as she could before he floated away too.

She parallel parks in an empty spot about a block away from the restaurant. She gives in to the urge to take his hand and they walk up the street. Central City is bustling for a Thursday night, the start of a weekend for many. She hears the music from a band playing from somewhere down the street and sees other couples walking hand in hand, smiling off to their destinations. Golden’s is just as packed when she walks in, but the host notices her immediately.

“Hey Iris,” Kamilla grins, the short perky woman waving as they walk up to the booth. She’s got skin a touch darker than tan and big brown eyes that always seem to be smiling as much as she does.

“Hey Kamilla,” Iris greets. Y’all are packed tonight.”

The other woman nods, her dark hair waving against her shoulders as she looks at the group of people waiting for tables along the side of the wall. “Yeah. I don’t know what’s up but we’ve been slammed since we opened for the dinner hour.”

“How long’s the wait?”

“Well, for you, not long. There are a couple of seats open at the bar or you two can go in the alcove. Xuan and Theo had some friends sitting back there, but they should be finishing up soon. I can put you at the bar until the table’s ready.”

Iris smiles widely. “You’re a saint. Thanks.”

“Anything for you, you know that.”

Kamilla leads them through the throng of people to the bar. Iris’s hand is still clasped in Barry’s and he squeezes once to indicate that he’s following. There are only two seats at the bar available, at the far end, away from where Linda is currently pouring drinks. It’s a long U-shaped bar, about ten seats along the longer side, two of either side of the U. The other bartender is down on their end, a slim woman named Allegra with light-honey colored skin and long dark brown hair. She sees Iris and waves, and then raises an eyebrow at Barry sitting beside her.

“Who’s this?” she asks when she walks over, noticing the way Barry is sitting sideways with his legs open, splayed out so that Iris is surrounded by him.

She and Allegra are not so much friends as they are acquaintances, stopping and chatting whenever Iris comes to hang out.

“This is Barry. Barry, this is Allegra.”

“Oh, so this is Barry.”

The sound of her best friend’s voice in sing-song comes from behind Allegra, thick hair swinging against her neck. She’s got a cryptic expression on her face, as she looks from Barry to Iris back to Barry again, also taking in his posture, their body language explaining what they haven’t said yet.

“He’s cute,” Linda says, winking at Barry, who blushes a little.

“Yes. Barry, this is my best friend Linda; Linda this is Barry.”

Barry gives up an easy smile and puts a hand out for Linda to shake. “It’s good to meet you. Iris has told me a lot.”

“Hmm, I hope more than I’ve heard about you.”

Snickering at her tone, Allegra leaves them to go handle another order.

“Don’t be rude because you’re mad at me.”

“I’m not mad,” Linda grumbles. She turns back to Barry. “But she’s right. I’m sorry for being rude. I really am glad to meet you.”

“This is your parents’ place, right?” he asks, looking around, obviously impressed. “Iris told me about it. I’m excited that she brought me here.”

“I’m sure you’ll enjoy it. You came on a good night. We just started our new menu.” She pulls a plastic-covered menu from below the bar for him to look at. “Kamilla told me she’ll get the table in the alcove ready for you. I’ll whip y’all up something to drink while you wait.”

Linda gives her a pointed look and then she’s gone, cute navy blouse billowing behind her. Iris faces Barry, who’s watching her, one hand on the back of her chair, the other sitting on the sliver of skin from where her skirt has ridden up her thigh.

“You okay?” he asks.

“Yeah? Why wouldn’t I be?”

“That seemed like a lot.” He gestures towards Linda.

Iris sighs heavily. “Yeah. I’m sort of in my head about some stuff and Linda is taking it a little personally that I haven’t told her about it.”

“You mean me?”

“Partly,” she answers truthfully. “I, I didn’t always know how to talk about you. But it’s not just that; I’ve been dealing with some feelings of…listlessness. And I’m just trying to figure it out.”

“Iris, I…” He licks his lips, slowly, and leans in, close enough that she can smell the mint and wine on his breath. “If I’m moving too fast, I get that and I can pull back if you want. But I’m in this, to see where we can go.” His stare is insistent. “And you can tell me, if you want, about whatever else is bothering you. I’m always willing to listen.”

Before she can respond, Linda walks back over with two long-stemmed martini glasses, pale orange liquor filled to the brim.

“Ginger martinis,” Linda announces. “Something I just put on the menu.”

“In addition to being a badass writer, Linda’s a bomb bartender too.”

“Oh, you’re a writer too?” Barry wonders.

Linda smiles at Barry. “Yeah. Mostly fiction, though I dabble in personal essays. Nothing like our girl over here who can take someone else’s thoughts and make them come to life.”

“She is good, isn’t she?” Barry punctuates the question with a hand rub up her thigh. That makes Iris look up, startled, because they’ve never talked about her work before.

“You’ve read my work?”

“Of course,” he says, as if it should be obvious. “I’m working my way through your blog. I have been since you told me about it at the Fall Fest.”

Iris exchanges glances with a satisfied Linda.

“You hear that, Iris? Barry has been reading your blog since you mentioned it weeks ago. It’s almost as if…”

“Alright!” Iris interrupts. “Thanks, Linda. Goodbye.”

Linda laughs, throwing another wink at Barry before she blows a kiss at Iris. “I love you and have fun. Call me later.”

She’s done eating when he throws his napkin on top and slides over to her side of the booth. She blinks at him in confusion, but he just shrugs and says, “I wanted to be next to you.”

She scoots over to let him in, though it’s a tight fit, as she takes a sip from her water glass. They’re waiting on dessert, a decadent ginger créeme brûlée that Xuan created. It’s her favorite thing on the menu.

Iris thinks back on the course of their dinner. It’d been about as perfect as their picnic date, how conversation just seemed to flow. He tells her a bit about working as a forensic scientist and how he likes to use his love of science and problem-solving to help catch the bad guys. That leads into a conversation about her dad, a police captain for CCPD, and Barry is delighted to find out that he actually knows her father, a man he says he can tell wants nothing more than to do the right thing.

Iris talks a little about What a Life You’ve Lived , still a bit surprised that he’s reading through it. He asks deeper questions about a couple of the stories that really caught his attention. He likes that they read like short stories instead of interviews because they make the stories more fascinating. He wants to know how she chooses stories, what’s her writing process, if she does interviews or if they just send in and she cleans it up.

“A little of both,” she answers. “They send the story and then we set up an interview and we go from there. Sometimes they’re in person or on a video call. Some people prefer just emailed conversations because it keeps some of their anonymity.”

They laugh while they eat as they talk more about some of his more interesting cases, her funnier stories. Iris never really orders any food; Linda or her parents usually just tell the chef she’s there and the cooks do their thing, bringing out courses as they see fit. So they up her portions and Barry and Iris eat from the same plates, fighting over some of the items, like the garlic bok choy Iris always falls all over herself for and the shrimp and pork shumai that Barry attempts to eat more of.

Linda brings them another martini and on top of the glass of wine, she’s in a hazy sort of place. She isn’t drunk, but she does feel a little lighter, enchanted by the food and the drink and the company. Golden’s becomes a little more seductive at night, with lowered lighting and soft music, and the smiling, muted conversations that come with a date night. And so even though they eat and they laugh and they play, they do more. They make eyes at each other over the time of their glasses, watch a little too long as the other runs the teeth of a fork across the tongue. They caress one another’s hand when one goes for a bite of food. They tangle their legs, the feel of Barry’s hard, fabric-covered calves on her softer, bare legs far too arousing for how innocuous the movement. It’s teasing and it’s provoking and Iris feels it all down to the core of her.

So when he slides into the seat beside her, she brazenly throws her legs over his thighs under the guise of giving him more room. She’s thankful it’s darker where they are, that’s it’s more hidden where they are. Barry doesn’t miss a beat, placing a hand on her thighs and rubbing lightly. Their dessert arrives shortly thereafter and the waiter takes note of their changed positions with a smirk.

“You’ve got to try this,” Iris says, picking up one of the small spoons to scoop up a bit. “It’ll literally be the best thing you’ve ever put in your mouth.”

“I don’t know,” Barry hums, sliding his hand higher up her thigh under her skirt. His palm is warm and a bit soft, an interesting contrast to the slightly calloused tips of his fingers. “I’ve had you in my mouth.”

He takes a bite like he hadn’t just said that, tongue licking around the spoon. “But it’s a nice second.”

“You’ve gotta stop,” Iris says, staring down at the spoon, momentarily wishing it was her. “You really just gotta stop.”

His answering grin is lopsided. “I don’t really think you want me to. Why else would you put your legs up on me like this?”

She gasps in mock shock. “What are you trying to say, Bear?”

His grin turns dirty. “I want you to say that name a little differently in a minute.”

He moves his hand up, taking the fabric of her skirt with him, tapping at her thighs to part them. She does it easily, dropping one of her feet back to the floor so that she’s spread for him. The skirt is pliant enough that she can spread as wide as she wants and it still covers her.

“Eat the brûlée,” he suggests. “Give your mouth something to do.”

He tips those long fingers up the middle of her thighs, up one side and down the other, up one side and down the other. It’s slow, like he always is, and for someone who’s claimed to enjoy running, he’s always taking his time.

And every time he goes up one side and down the other, he makes his way higher and higher, higher and higher, until his fingers are skimming her panties, lightly tracing the edges of the silk material. She jumps, a little gasp escaping her parted lips.

“Eat,” he orders. It’s crazy, how turned on how she gets because of him. Every time he murmurs some increasingly dirty thing, every time he uses those far too skillful fingers to touch her, she feels herself soaking her panties with no shame. She’s been just on the verge of wet since she picked him up and saw him standing there in all that all black that had made his pale skin and pretty eyes stand out in stark contrast. Now, though, she knows that were she to look, she’d see a darker green right in the middle of the crotch of her panties. It shouldn’t be so easy, not the way they are together, not the way they’ve always been together. It should sometimes be awkward and fumbling and…and...

“Fuck,” the curse startles her out of her own musings when slides his finger under the fabric of her panties.

“I told you to eat, Iris,” Barry reminds her, and she picks up the spoon with no further delay, scooping up a portion of the dessert and putting it in her mouth. At the same time, he slides a gentle finger along her slit. She’s imbued with, with awareness: the sweet taste of sugar on her tongue, the sweet feel of his digit sliding into her; the shock of the lemon-ginger filling her mouth, the shock of him pushing another finger in and to the knuckle. She lets out a silent moan against the spoon, taking his advice and eating so that she doesn’t fall back on the chair with her mouth wide open in ecstasy.

It’s a lesson in restraint, the next several minutes. He massages her as she eats, his fingers sliding in and out of her, in and out her, scissoring, and sliding, and rubbing, and then repeating the process. Her hips start to rock against his hand, undulating as she tries to get closer, as she takes his fingers and clenches around them. Her hand tightens on the spoon she’s using, and it’s a struggle to keep her eyes facing forward and not rolled in the back of her head. Because still with the two fingers fucking into her, he thumbs at her clit, rubbing in slow circles. She wishes that she could look down at them, to see what those long, pale fingers look like disappearing inside of her wet, pink flesh; but she can’t and even still, she can recall the look of it from their time on the couch. It feels like that did, when he was playing in her, but different and maybe better.

Because now he knows a little bit about what gets her off quicker, about the fact that although it’s torture when he’s fucking her at a snail’s pace, she likes the be fingered like that. She likes when he crooks his fingers, just a little, and when it feels like a gentle stroking instead of an all-out assault. She likes when he waits ‘til her clit is hard and peeking from its hood before he touches it, and then keeps at it, rubbing in small, slow circles. And “god, Bear,” does the creme brulee make this something else, make it more rousing, make it sexier, make it sound like go 'head, really get your groove on; cause tonight my man's coming through...i got another, nasty, freaky, just right way in mind; tonight, I'm gonna beat the high score. He slides in and out, he rubs slow circles, she rocks her hips like she would if she could be impaled on him right now.

And he leans closer to her, watching her face as he fingers her, mumbling as he does, “yes, baby, ride my hand, soak my hand, baby,” his voice barely above a whisper. It makes Iris jerk hard against the table. Barry attempts to slow down, but Iris all but gives up the idea of eating and grabs at his wrist. “No, don’t stop, Bear.”

He lets out an easy chuckle, twisting his wrist so that he can push deeper, his palm now rubbing against her clit, his fingers curved in her pussy.

“You’re gonna get us caught,” he whispers into her ear, and Iris whimpers at the dark timbre of his voice washing over her. “Hmm, you seem like you’d like that. Huh, Iris? Does the thought of all these people seeing you bite those sexy lips as you try not to scream get you off? Do you want them to hear how you sound right now? How you’re so wet I can almost hear you over them talking right now?”

“Bear,” she moans and it’s louder than she intends and Barry reaches out to tuck her into his neck. And she can’t answer, doesn’t know if she is getting off on them like this, but she feels her orgasm coming, hard and fast but smooth, gliding through her like it’s the easiest thing her body has ever done.

When she comes around his hand, clamping her thighs around his wrist, she stays tucked in Barry’s neck and bites down, because the creme brulee is all gone, and fuck if this doesn’t feel good. She makes a strangled sound in her throat and hopes that she bites down hard enough to muffle it, even if it marks him. She hears his own low groan, rumbling near silently in his chest, and Iris thinks that makes her come even harder, eyes shut tight as she savors it. She rides it out, clenching and unclenching like a vise over his fingers, and tasting the sweetness of his skin, feeling his hardness under her thigh.

“They’re never gonna let me back in here, Barry,” Iris whispers in a labored breath, after.

“It’s fine,” he says as he pulls his hand out of her. He looks at it for a moment, at her slick glistening on his skin, and then he puts the two middle fingers in his mouth, groaning at the taste of her. Iris thinks she almost comes again.

“They don’t even know what’s going on,” he continues, oblivious to Iris who’s watching him with blown eyes. At least she thinks he’s oblivious until he wipes the rest of her off on a cloth napkin and then shoots her a salacious wink.

She shakes her head, partly in amusement, and she smoothes her hands down her thighs above her skirt. Her one leg is still thrown across him. “How do you even get me to do shit like this? I’m so embarrassed. I was such a good girl before I met you.”

His chuckle is a rumble against her. “You are good, baby. So fucking good.”

She lifts her head, because something about that last part seems like more than just teasing. He curls a hand around the back of her neck, making her hold his gaze.

“You smell good,” he says. “You taste good. But more than that,” he pauses as places a hand on her chest, just above her heart. “You are good.”

“You don’t even…”

“Don’t,” he stops her. “Don’t say I don’t know you. I mean sure, I still haven’t figured out all the things that anger you or what you’re like when you’re stressed. But I’ve watched you talk about your family and I’ve seen the compassion you have for the people you write about and… and when I tell you you’re good, I mean that.”

She tucks herself back into his neck after that, wrapping her arms around him to acknowledge his comment, to try to tell him what she doesn’t know how to say yet. It would make sense that she move away from him, that she set herself back to rights. It would make sense that she step back, to clear the haze he’s got her in, to make sure she’s reading this story correctly. But something else tells her that she might be, that she might even be reading it a tad too slowly, so she stays right where she is, his hand rubbing up and down her back. And she closes her eyes, hoping that the story doesn’t end too soon.

Is it the way you love me, baby?

Is it the way you love me, baby?

Is it the way you love me, baby?

Is it the way you love me, baby?

[codylabs]

My Top 10 Ships

I’m not a very romantic sort of guy, I’m not real forgiving to departures from canon, I get easily annoyed at inconsistencies, and I don’t watch much television and movies, so in order for me to ship something, it has to be a GOOD ship. I default toward rejecting ships, so to impress ME, it must be built on logic, and evidence, it’s gotta be something I can suspend my disbelief far enough to accept. And it’s gotta have story behind it, something deep, some hefty emotional weight; if it doesn’t tickle this man’s cold reptilian heart with strong beats and excellent writing, it goes straight to the trash. I absoLUTELY will not stand for any of these weird little cute, pretty, pandering, trashy crack ships that everybody seems to be clumsily throwing characters into. Most ships are trash ships. They are not good ships.

You think your ship is good? You like your ship?

You ship it?

No you don’t.

Get out of here.

You will listen to me. I will tell you. Look at me. I’m the Captain now.

Here are the 10 good ships.

10. The Rocinante, The Expanse

A resoundingly excellent ship. Unlike most ships you see out there, this thing was actually designed with realistic space combat in mind. It’s got 6 computer-controlled gatling turrets covering every angle, it accelerates in whatever direction it’s pointing, its bridge is right in the center to put as much armor as possible between enemies and crew, overall a much better-designed vehicle than most everything you see about.

That being said, I didn’t have much connection to this ship. Its crew weren’t really interesting, the aesthetic was kinda bleak, and I basically stopped watching after the phazon showed up. And the Rocinante itself has pretty poor redundancy. Enemy bullets can literally just pass through it (as is realistic for a ship this size) so how about multiple main engines huh? Absolutely tragic oversight. And its interior looks too much like an Apple product. How are you supposed to work on it? Where are the wires and pipes??? The handholds?????

9. Ares IV M.A.V., The Martian

Almost more of a symbol than a ship. A symbol of freedom, of escape. A beautiful symbol. This is what Mark Watney spends the whole movie trying to reach, with an entire world backing him up, and an entire world trying to stop him. It’s the goal of the movie, and it just looks so beautiful when he finally reaches it and sees it sitting there in the middle of the desert, ass down, nose up; a tall, proud symbol. This ship has a special significance for me because the author of the original book really did his research on the scientific requirements and details of a Mars Ascent Vehicle, and it was actually inspired by the E.R.V. in another book, ‘A Case For Mars’, which I read when I was younger. “Makes its own methane-oxygen fuel on-site by using nuclear power to break down CO2 in the atmosphere and combining it with stored hydrogen, don’t you know.” I say as I adjust my spectacles and puff my pipe.

The M.A.V. in the movie does have a few issues, such as hallway and rooms running straight up through where the fuel tanks ought to be (instead of a lift/ladder on the exterior) and a rugged, industrial aesthetic that looks too heavy and cumbersome for a ship of its type. (And you’re seriously telling me he couldn’t have used the capsule’s RCS to literally bypass the movie’s entire climax? WHY NOT? The book never mentioned him having to drain the monopropellant!!!) But I’ll let that slide. Great movie.

8. Biggest Boy, The Greatship

(I don’t know the ship name so I had to make up a name. You know what, I think it’s actually just called the Greatship.)

So it’s a starship the size of Jupiter, empty, unmanned, perfectly mysterious, that comes gliding into the galaxy a couple million years into humanity’s future. Where did it come from? Who made it and how? Good questions. It’s powered by matter-antimatter annihilation reactions from within planet-sized internal tanks, and its engines use hydrogen and fusion exhaust as reaction mass, and its hull is made of hyperfiber, a super-strong fictional material with a 4-dimensional lattice structure, able to weather impacts by spreading them out over various dimensions where the impact occurred in a different place.

I hope that after the first few entries, you didn’t get the impression that I am somehow against futuristic, far-out, impossible technologies. Quite the opposite! I love me some hyperdrive and anti-gravity and A.I. and stuff. However! Ships must be well-designed for the technology available, and must take no creative liberties except those explicitly allowed by the difference in the setting. The laws of physics don’t disappear when the magic crystals come out, the magic crystals are merely a different tool to combat them. Engineering will always exist, should start with the tools and work outward, form follows function. Star Wars ships, for instance, are trash because they don’t mount their repulsorlift arrays consistently, they’re not aerodynamic, and their engines aren’t aligned around their center of masses.

So I like the Great Ship. Although the story is pretty far-fetched, and a lot of crazy, out-there scifi events transpire deep in the ship’s depths, the book always strictly kept its own rules in mind, and never broke those rules, no matter how outlandishly crazy things got. Thanks for comprehending something so incomprehensible, Robert Reed. You inspired me miles in my own work.

7. The Ghost, The Sea Wolf

The story may be fiction, but the Ghost was as real as ghosts can be.

Jack London did his research. No, not research, he LIVED this. The Ghost is a seal-hunting schooner much like one that he served aboard during his rollercoaster of a life, and he captured every detail of its operation, of its requirements, of its mechanics, and of the incredible toll it took on the people that lived such a life. The boat is made to feel as oppressive and claustrophobic as a prison, as if it were an extension of the monster that commanded it, directly in contrast to the expansive beauty of the sea around them. My goodness, what a beautiful book. What a moving, interesting, challenging book, with such a story! This book is one of the climaxes of fiction, and one of the inspirations for Shifting Sands, if I remember correctly. I would recommend this book to anybody. Beautiful.

6. Ferbnessa, Phineas and Ferb

Okay, so I hope we can all agree that Vanessa is nothing but bad news. But that being said, Ferb knows exactly the relationship he wants, and by golly, he goes for it. Most male characters would stutter or get nervous or lose confidence around their crush, especially if that crush is about a hundred miles out of their league or if they already had another boyfriend, but Ferb? No. Not my man Ferb. He’s slighly too much of a legend to fall for such childish pitfalls. He doesn’t posture, he doesn’t creep or flirt or try to sabotage the other men in her life, he doesn’t even speak a word, he just maintains his blank expression, cranks his own already-inhuman levels of confidence and competence up through the roof to borderline olympian levels, and continues being himself. These rare moments of Ferbly passion are some of the few open windows we get into the grandiose machinations of his mysterious mind, and he uses it to bring out the best in Vanessa as well. And in the future episode, set years down the line, wouldn’t you know it, they’re a pair.

All joking aside though, this whole ship is basically comedy. It’s a super small part of the show, it’s only in like 5 episodes, it’s a running gag, it’s hilarious. It’s great. And it fits right into the tone and the feel of the show, because P&F’s entire world really is a comedy about going for it and living your dreams. So this is just the best thing ever. It’s been about a decade since then, and I still burst out laughing at how much of a pristine picture of ideal masculinity Ferb is. Become like Ferb, boys, and you will become men.

Legendary.

Eat your heart out, Dipper.

3. Shunk, Voltron

(I don’t know the ship name so I had to make up a name)

Huge props to the voltron team for making a female alien character (even a romantic interest) with NO BOOBS. Do you have ANY idea how sick and tired I am of artists throwing a big ol’ pair of balonkadongs onto lobsters and snakes when almost everything in the real world besides folks and cows have either 0 or 8+ of them? Everything’s gotta be traditionally sexy and recognizably-feminine and GREAT now you just canonized all the porn! Disgusteg

but now look at Shay. She’s a rock person. She’s got silicon-based biology, she probably weighs 500 lbs and bleeds sand. She’s got enormous hands and weird knees and no nose and lumps everywhere, AND YET STILL the show plays all the tropes 100% straight with her being a fair young maiden and a sweet princess. And it works because Hunk is just this great guy who’s exactly as sweet and caring, and he’s not the most attractive of the Paladins either, so he probably lives his life looking past appearances. He doesn’t care that she’s an alien rock, he cares about her as a person, and she obviously worships him right back. Even though Shay is shown in season 1 and then never again until season 7, Hunk still avoids alternative romantic entanglements, citing ‘a rock I know’, and it just adds to his persona as this infinitely loyal teddy bear. I tip my hat to this, the single ship I know that’s 0% sexy and 100% wholesome.

And Hunk is the best Paladin. He’s just the greatest. I revere him. I salute him as he walks past. This man among men. Look at this guy. I don’t even care about any of the other ships in Voltron (I mean, the Castle of Lions is okay, but it’s outriggers are kinda spindly) but Hunk and Shay deserve each other.

4. Wendip, Gravity Falls

So Dipper’s 12/13, and Wendy’s 15. That’s a pretty giant age difference. Maybe you fans have fooled yourselves into thinking it’s not, but it is. She knows it. He knows it. His sister knows it. Your mom knows it. So halfway through the show, when he finally got around to confessing his feelings to her, she told him no. Sure they’re still friends, sure they like each other, and sure they have a lot of chemistry and they still have a movie night every Friday, but at the end of the day, he’s a smelly little midget who has to go back to California at the end of the Summer, and she’s a older girl with approximately zero romantic feelings for him. So the notion that it could work out is pretty obvious to everyone, and especially to him, pretty much hopeless. And he really did handle it all pretty poorly and immaturely too, he objectified her and stalked her and simped up a storm and sabotaged her boyfriend, so perhaps he deserved what he got. Perhaps it’s better this way.

And yet.

And yet Wendy never really got a happy ending in the show. And Dipper never got a conclusive romance either. So after everything, it’s easy to think about it how he thinks about it, by wondering how things could have been, if everything were just so slightly different, if she’d said yes or if they united again. She wishes she could be younger, he wishes he could be older. She’s more dominant, he’s more recessive. She has a lot of serious issues in her life, and could really seriously use a driven, heroic, intelligent friend to help her out, give her purpose, and steer her right. And Lord knows he could use somebody with street smarts and actual muscles to have his back now and again. They complement each other perfectly. They make up for each others’ weaknesses. They’re everything they ever wanted from another, and if you do the math, their children would be actual literal supersoldiers.

Or at least that’s the way a lot of people see it. There’s been immeasurable mountains of fanfiction and fanart from people who are just so sad that in a show full of happy endings and dreams coming true and old regrets being resolved and children growing up, that one ending would never be happy, one dream would never come to pass, one regret would stick with you forever, one child would never grow up. Maybe if you extrapolate out the story they’d end up together? Or maybe they’d find other, better partners? Maybe romance isn’t all that important in the grand scheme of things, and this is the best ending there could have been? Perhaps, perhaps not. But in any case, there’s a lot of very rich storytelling potential for the untold journey before them, and for the paths that could have been.

Stop drawing fetish art of Wendy, you insufferable heathen actual donkeys.

3. Kataang, Avatar: The Last Airbender

Now HERE’S a serious relationship. Not just a romantic ship, (though it is that,) not just some cutesy, funny thing or some ship-war fodder, (though it is cute and funny and did spawn a ship-war,) not just a matter of certainty and destiny, (though it is certain and was destined,) this is a real, TANGIBLE relationship, that these characters built together over a solid year of on-screen adventuring and fighting. They’ve helped each other through trauma, they’ve been there for each other in their darkest moments, they learned martial-arts together, they’ve fought back-to back against grown men, they’ve worked front-to-front sawing through steel girders, they’ve saved each other’s lives, he once ACTUALLY DIED and she brought him BACK. They end up respecting each other, and valuing each other in the intimate way that only true friends do.

And they’re shown working through all their imperfections and mistakes too. Aang sometimes oversteps boundaries and says stupid stuff because he’s a kid, and Katara sometimes scolds him and controls him because she’s motherly and orderly, they get jealous of each other, but none of those things drive them apart, and they deal with them, and they conquer them, and they keep a very legitimate and multi-faceted friendship going, and that’s the key to it all. The fact that this friendship becomes romance is just proof that it was a friendship of quality.

I think people tend to overlook or forget this ship because the last few episodes of the show found them in a pretty dark place, needing to deal with matters of life and death and justice in very different ways, and unlike all their other issues, we don’t really get to see them reconciling these differences before the story ends, which kind of leaves a sour taste between them. And Katara goes on a couple missions with Zuko around the same time, so now half of all people want Zutara, when in actuality, Zutara is a trash ship, which is a true science fact.

2. Serenity, Firefly

Only reason this ship isn’t #1 is because it isn’t constructed using a proper aerospace philosophy; it’s made of bulky machinery and steel beams and chunky plates, it looks more like an ocean vessel from the inside, and is WAY too big for its 6-12 person crew and light cargo capacity. Plus it doesn’t have any room for fuel and its got no wheels on its landing legs and no downward-facing windows and its reactor is just too dang SMOL and its engines are attached too flimsily. This all wouldn’t be too much of an issue if they were going for a far-future aesthetic, but if you’re trying to do something grounded and semi-contemporary, you need to lose some weight girl, I’m sorry.

But by gosh does it make up for it in heart. The entire inside of this ship was mapped out and made on set, with so many homely little decorations and touches to make every room feel like the person who inhabits it, sterile professional blue for the doc’s medbay, warm happy red for Kaylee’s engine room, all-serious-business-but-also-plastic-dinos for Wash’s cockpit... It hit me hard when this baby it crashed in the movie, and it felt almost real when River pretended to mind-meld with it. This ship has more soul in one buffer panel than most shows have in the entire cast, enough to make it seem like its own character, even in a show crowded with charming characters. I love this ship intimately, even if I would have built it differently.

1. Colonial Vessel 46.18′\, Gravity Falls

(I don’t know the ship name so I had to make up a name)

You didn’t think I’d leave out this one, did you? After all the fanfiction I’ve written? This is basically my ship at this point. Anyway, enough about me; the vessel beneath Crash Site Omega really is the quintessential alien ship; its perfectly cliche flying-saucer design taps into all the audience’s pre-existing fanciful notions and imaginings and disbelief-suspension, meanwhile its presentation isn’t cliche or fanciful in the slightest. 

There’s not much to say about it from a technical standpoint, besides personal musings: it would need anti-gravity to stay airborne without thrusters, it would need a FTL drive to cross the distances it did, its drones would need to be made of some kind of semi-liquid to move like they do... But these sort of out-of-the-box, never-before-seen, world-expanding brain-knocks are exactly what makes this ship special. It’s an alien ship, built with technology unknown to people, forged from materials that people don’t possess, and inhabited by beings we will never meet. For all we know, this ship could be perfectly sound from an engineering standpoint, and no engineer in the audience could claim to prove it otherwise, because unlike something like the T.A.R.D.I.S., they never try and fail to explain it away with science buzzwords or canonize its details or show off some fancy glowy reactor. This ancient husk is left as a yawning pit in reason, and that’s beautiful.

Moreover, this ship is an amazingly powerful narrative tool, and a mind-blowing surprise to drop in as a setpiece during the show’s final episodes. This ship embodies everything that made the show’s mysteries special: the evidence presented so early and so consistently, the creativity in creature design, action, and worldbuilding, the yawning depths of unknowable lore, and most of all the burning, unquenched desire to know more... The imprint this ship made in the cliffs over the town has been hanging over the characters’ heads the entire series, and its hull was below their feet from day one, so when they finally revealed it, and explored it, it felt invigorating. Rewarding. This ship, and the glorious feelings and thoughts it represents, have inspired to no end, and haven’t ended yet.

Honorable mentions:

Westley and Buttercup, The Princess Bride

Ooooh man I tell you what, it was really hard trimming this down to 10 for the list, and this one just barely didn’t make the cut, and that mainly because I have a sweet spot for animation and for warrior women, and this sweetness ain’t animated, and this damsel is as distressed as they get. And they don’t have a whole lot of chemistry? I don’t know how to measure that, but I feel like there was a lot of friendship stated that was never shown? Is it sacrilege to say that about True Love? I guess I’ve never exactly had True Love, so what do I know?

The entire plot centers around his devotion to her, and her love for him, and the lengths they go to for one another. He studies fencing and wrestling and wits and tactics for years on a pirate ship as he tried to return to her, and she refused the advances and the offers of an actual prince for as long as she could, even though she thought him dead, and was ready to kill herself when she knew him to be alive and not to be hers. And just such excellent action and characters and humor and story in the entire book surrounding it. Possibly an even better movie, somehow. Happy happy happy happy. They don’t make movies like this no more, why is that? Sad.

Endurance, Interstellar

Actually a pretty realistic design, all considering. They nailed the aesthetic, and the cinematography, and the feel.

It does lose points though, firstly because the shuttlecraft require a booster stage to make it into orbit when leaving Earth, but for the rest of the movie, whenever they’re landing on planets with similar gravity and atmosphere, they can just fly away like it’s no big deal, which is a big inconsistency, both with real life, and more importantly with itself. And how did an under-equipped and struggling space program put this thing in orbit in the first place, anyway? And why don’t their ships land on their asses like proper rockets? And why not tell the crew members the full plan before leaving? See, it’s little things like that, little inconsistencies made for the sake of fitting with story beats and simplifying it for the audience’s sake, that sours this ship for me. I don’t mind creative liberties, but actual plot holes? This thing has a few plot holes, and plot holes are absolutely yucky. So although most of this ship is very yummy, the yucky parts make it all yucky.

Yucky.

Plus its heavy cargo shuttles are about the least-aerodynamic things imaginable, and that’s also yucky, and there’s porcelain tiles in the stasis bay, like what?

Couldashouldawoulda been yummy.

The Hermes, The Martian

This ship. This friggin’ ship.

A beautiful ship. A well-conceived ship. A mathematically sound and engineered ship. It had so many many good ideas behind it. So much math went into calculating its thrust and orbital dynamics for this movie, so much work went into making it fit a contemporary space aesthetic, the panels, the heat sinks, the tanks, so much PRESENTATION I could KISS IT HMWA, but taken as a whole, engineering-wise, the whole ship falls flat on its face, because it just doesn’t fit together. It doesn’t make sense. Look at all those countless modules along its length. What do they do? They don’t do anything! It’s a quarter mile long, and it’s built for only 6 people? It’s meant to carry a lander? Where does the lander dock? Why are the useful airlocks so far off the center of gravity? Why does it have a cockpit? Why is the forward airlock so looooong? Why is the entire ship so loooooong? Why is the ring spinning so slowly? It’s not hard math to figure out how fast it needs to spin! You’re telling me you did ORBITAL DYNAMICS but not the SINGLE physics 101 equation needed to figure out how fast the ring needs to spin??

Btw, let’s talk about that rotating section in the middle! Think about the rotating section! That rotating section means that the front and the back of the ship aren’t actually connected! There’s just a pair of ring-shaped slip-slidey bearings bridging the ship’s middle, slip-slidey bearings that electricity, computer signals, and water and air pipes can’t cross. Why did they design it that way?? In the book the entire ship spun, which makes so much more sense! Why does it have solar panels when it has a reactor canonically capable of 40 times their output? Why are the fuel tanks so small? Why is it always facing prograde even when canonically burning retrograde? Why? WHY? BLRRRRGGGGGRGGGRGGG

In Conclusion, Ships Are Neat

[maviemesregles]

Once I was an Eagle

Angst is around the corner, brace yourself.

Anne @eclecticstarlightconnoisseur​, thanks once again  💜

X

Read on AO3

A/N: ghràdhach aon - dear one M'eudail - my treasure

Chapter I: The beginnings

Chapter II: Sassenach

Chapter III: Catharsis

Chapter IV: Lovestruck. Part I

Chapter V: Lovestruck. Part II

Chapter VI: Flecks of Sun

Chapter VII: Mince pies & baubles

Chapter VIII: Home

                                  Chapter IX: Once upon a dream

Claire's face was pale and her forehead clammy. Despite her telling Jamie that she was "totally fine," did nothing to reassure him. He dismissed her weak attempts to convince him that she was okay and carried her through A&E doors. Before he could ask for help, Joe Abernathy appeared in front of him like some sort of a wizard from Harry Potter.

“James?” Joe queried while scanning Claire’s limp figure in his arms, he pointed towards the stretcher. “Put her down there. What happened?”

Carefully lowering her down, Jamie felt he was finally able to breathe for the first since he found Claire crouched on the floor in their bathroom.

“I found her, pale as a sheet of white paper, laying on the bathroom floor.”  Nervously Jamie ran his hand through his hair.

“Alright, don’t worry,” Joe patted Jamie on the shoulder, “It doesn’t look like an emergency since our Lady Jane can swear and protest.”

And that was true. Claire who was now pushed on the stretcher down the hall cursed, demanded them to let her go all while threatening to vomit if they continue bouncing her.

Doctor Abernathy turned to Jamie examining his face. The thin line of sweat glistened on his forehead as he nervously kept fidgeting his hands.

“Right, my lad. You need to calm down,” Joe waved his hand, summoning a young nurse that observed the scene earlier. “Katy, please, bring this gentleman to my office.”

Joe smirked at Jamie, lowering his voice. “There’s a bit of whisky in the first drawer. Please, help yourself. And don’t worry, I’m going to check on Claire and not let her out of my sight.”

* * *

I exhaled happily feeling the steady surface of the bed under me, instead of moving nightmare called a stretcher. The escalating desire to vomit had passed and now only slight nausea kept lingering in the pit of my stomach. The door opened and blonde nurse I’ve never seen before casually strolled to my bed, her trainers shuffled over the linoleum.

“How are you feeling, Dr. Beauchamp?” Flora as her name badge said, smiled at me, wrapping a blood pressure cuff around my arm.

“Like I was run over by a bloody train” I grunted, closing my eyes. It felt as if ages passed before she finally scribbled down my blood pressure along with pulse and respiratory rate.

When Joe stepped in I was a prisoner to the IV fluids and the blasted pole, it was hanging on. He got the same answer that I had given the nurse before.  “It’s that sushi, Joe. And you know what? It’s entirely your fault. I should have chosen something else for lunch.”

“Is there any chance you might be pregnant, Claire?” Joe looked at me tentatively. I almost choked on the glass of water. For whatever reason, I felt a deep flush creep up my neck, all the way to my cheeks.

“I...No,” Shaking my head, I put the glass aside. “No, it’s not possible.”

Joe raised his eyebrows, clearly showing that I didn’t sound convincing enough.

“I can’t be pregnant. I’m on the pill.”

It was one evening a few months ago when on the way home I made a stop at the pharmacy. I found Jamie in the bathroom, loading the washing machine. He asked “What’s this?” when I casually placed a pink pillbox on the shelf. Jamie never pressured me with anything. And that time as he brushed his lips over my temple he said I did not need to take them. I shushed him, catching his lower lip between mine and confessed that I wanted this. I wanted him.

“Well, we’ll make the test anyway, just to make sure. Pills do fail sometimes” Joe squeezed my hand gently.

* * *

The cold, sickening feeling crawled up from my stomach and took residency in my throat. I could not breathe, feeling the tears snake down my cheeks.

"Repeat what you just said,” I whispered as Frank turned around, hands bracing the windowsill. I  could see the muscles under his shirt tighten and his hands curled into fists.

“I said, how can we ever be a proper family if my wife cannot give me a child?”

My heart hammered in my chest, replacing a painful lump with awakening anger.

“Are you saying it is all my fault? How can you be so sure it’s not you, Frank?”

“Sassenach?” Jamie’s hand rested on my knee startling me out of vague memory. “Are ye alright?”

I nodded, staring at a piece of paper with the HCG test in my hands.

“Weel, will ye tell me, Claire?” Jamie turned right, parking the car on the side of the road. He turned to me, those blue eyes staring deep into my soul. My palms were damp as I reached for his hand. My heart was beating frantically in my ribcage, I only managed to open and close my mouth, with no sound coming out. I was shaking.

“Claire, fer God’s sake, please tell me.” He leaned closer, the early morning sun dyeing his hair in rich amber. “Ye scared the hell out of me tonight. What is it? Are ye sick?”

“I’m pregnant.”

The universe had stopped then. Everything suspended around us and the only thing I could hear is my heart thumping in my chest. I wasn’t sure if my vision blurred or Jamie was really crying until he pressed me closer, my body melting into his. I could feel his wet cheek under my lips and I realised I was crying too. I kissed his face until his ragged breathing stopped and he took me by the shoulders, looking at me as if I wasn’t real. I did not see him cry before. He hadn’t said a word and fear started creeping up, crawling into the tiniest, fragile corners of my being.

“Jamie,” my whisper raspy “Are you happy?” He leaned down then, to lay his head on my perfectly flat stomach.

“I never thought I could be happier. But you’ve just made me so, Sassenach.”

I thought I had forgotten how to breathe, my mind swimming in a cocktail of emotions.

“I’m going to be a Da .” He smiled, thumb smoothing the rumpled jumper fabric at my belly.

He asked me if I was happy. I said I’ve never been this happy.

I was pregnant. Days later when my mind learned to live with the thought that there was a part of Jamie inside me, a new spark of life he and I created, I started realising. How could I not notice it? During the last few weeks, I’ve been so terribly tired. I dismissed it, thinking it’s all because of the stress. Our hunting for a flat, moving, trying to settle in. Adso running away and my busyness at work. I did not pay attention when captured under Jamie’s body I mewled a sound of protest. His hand froze hovering over my breasts that became too sensitive. It’s just a precursor of my upcoming period I thought. Jamie laughed at me when curled up together on the sofa, I suddenly broke down crying after seeing a commercial on TV with little puppies in it. I never gave too much attention to dizziness that was coming back to me each morning for the last two weeks. Feeling awful nausea creeping in, I cursed at the contraceptives and bent over the white toilet surface. Telling myself I had to change them to different ones because these were definitely messing up with my hormones. So when my uterus decided to riot I was sure this pink pillbox was the reason for my late courses. I just could not be pregnant.

The morning we came back from the hospital I closed myself in the bathroom, tearing off the packaging from a home pregnancy test I’ve kept just in case. I had to be sure. I cried and sat on the bathroom floor when ClearBlue stick confirmed those eight letters that formed Pregnant. When Jamie knocked softly on the door I was a hot mess. He kneeled down, reaching for my hand where a promise of a future froze between my fingers. “Don’t” I protested, as he gently kissed the back of my hand. “My hands are all in pee.” I sniffed, but he only laughed, saying he didn’t care. “Sassenach, I will change diapers for our bairn, I dinna care about yer pee.” Jamie pulled me to his chest, keeping me so impossibly close, I thought I’d drown in him. Nose buried into his woolly sweater tightening my grip on him, I whispered. “We’re going to have a baby.”

“Aye,” He nodded, brushing away a loose curl on my cheek. There was something in his eyes, the very colour of them changed, as he looked down at me. “I’ve already thought of names for the wee one.” Jamie fished his phone from the pocket, shining the screen on me. “Scottish baby names” stood there and I dissolved into uncontrollable sobbing. He laughed softly, cradling my face in his hands, thumb smoothing the tears away. I had to laugh myself when my nose conjured up a snotty bubble and I saw a glimpse of myself in the mirror. Red-faced, racoon-mascara circles under the swollen, bloodshot eyes. “Oh, Claire, ye do break my heart with loving ye” He whispered kissing my mouth.

I stood in the locker room, topless, in my scrub pants, fidgeting the strap of my bra. Turning sideways the mirror reflected my bare, still flat, seven weeks stomach. The door swung open, Geillis storming in. Smiling from ear to ear she almost knocked the breath out of me, as her arms wrapped around my neck. “Oh, how much I wished ye’d never cried because of that arsehole Frank! I told ye it’s him!” She kissed me on the cheek patting my front. “Jamie lad did not waste time. I’m so happy for ye, ghràdhach aon. For both of ye.” Then she demanded that I have to make her godmother or our friendship will be at stake. From then on Geillis decided that she was my patron and no day has passed by without her endless care for me. I was thankful but most of the times rather annoyed at her hovering as a bee over me. My friend decided it’s her duty to make sure I had enough fresh air so every coffee break we spent outside. My lunch was under her steadfast gaze. I wasn’t allowed to eat my beloved beef burgers anymore and was replaced with green smoothies. “Christ, it’s full of vitamins and such, yer burger is full of fat.” I also was relieved of coffee but kindly handed herbal teas as a replacement.

But what Geillis didn't know wouldn't hurt her. Little did she know that at two in the morning Jamie, voice still groggy with sleep, pulls his jeans on as I wake him up. He cursed stubbing his toe in the darkness, promising to bring me a Big Mac. He laughed at me while I sniffed into my phone calling to tell him of my latest craving for a Cinnabon.

Jamie had his ways of making sure that I and "our wee bairn" stayed healthy and safe. On Sunday as I plodded down the hallway to start usual weekly tidying up, he had snatched a mop and solution for the floors from my hands. “Ye dinna ken it’s bad for ye to breath all these chemicals?” He declared, nudging me towards the couch. I said that I’m pregnant, not disabled but Jamie shot me a look that I obediently laid on the couch in the company of Adso.

One night I thought my heart would burst with tenderness for this man. Putting my book aside I turned to Jamie, elbow supporting my head. He scrolled through something on his phone, and I noticed that sexy crease between his eyebrows making my stomach turn into a warm pool. I scooted closer to him, hand running up and down his bare torso. He hummed “hhmmm” as my lips planted a kiss over his ribcage. When my hand suggestively ran along the waistband of his jogging pants he did not show the usual interest. I sat up, leg-crossed in front of him, securing my curls into a top knot.

“Is there something more fascinating than this?” I smiled cheekily at him, pulling one strap of my nightgown down the shoulder. He gave me a quick glance, eyes glued back to his iPhone.

“Ye ken that our bairn is the size of green olive,” He brought up his hand, folding his fingers to show me. “About one inch long”.

“What?” I lifted my brow as I leaned to grab his phone. My heart was on the edge of breaking into a million pieces with love for Jamie. It was an app on his phone, with information week by week about the baby. “Where did you get it from?” My voice shook just a bit as I fiercely fought an upcoming wave of pregnancy-hormonal tears. His hand reached my stomach, he drew me closer, giving it a soft kiss. “Weel, I googled it.” I whispered that I loved him covering his body with mine.

From that point on it became a nighttime tradition when Jamie would read to me every week the size of our baby, what developments had happened over time. As we were sitting one evening in front of the TV, watching the British Bake Off, I almost dozed off. Jamie’s hands were busy working out all the knots in my aching feet when he suggested something that made me awake instantly.

“I guess I should get rid off that engine ye hate so much, Claire.” I raised my eyebrows at him in curiosity. “What so suddenly changed your mind?” I asked scratching Adso who seemed to be fascinated by my condition. My cat found my stomach the perfect place for his naps and never left my side as soon as I entered our home. I was thinking it’s very cute unless he was just jealous of the new addition to the family. My body turned into melted wax when Jamie’s thumb pushed on that nagging spot on my foot. “I thought we should think about that storage room, my Da could help with a makeover. For the wee one,” Jamie explained, gently patting my ankle. I thought there wasn’t anything else my pregnant hormonal self would cry about but there I was again. Snotty and clinging to Jamie, saying that he’s a bloody bastard who made me turn into a hysterical creature.

Jamie’s reminder of uni days was taken away to Broch Mordha. Day by day our storage room turned into something that started resemble a nursery. Watching Jamie and Brian paint the little bedroom gave my heart fluttering sensation as I leaned against the doorframe. I haven’t admitted to Jamie yet that him being a dad made my toes curl and my heart race a marathon. I still could not believe it was happening with me. My life seemed to be unreal and the fact that I was going to be a mother was something out of this universe.

Jamie tucked a curl behind my ear, as I embraced my dear friend in the shape of the toilet almost every morning. I was hitting the milestone of twelve weeks and felt like bloated, nauseated, sensitive all over penguin. I huffed and puffed with my high waisted jeans that did not want to close over the growing baby bump. Finally, sweaty and red-cheeked, I sat on the edge of the bed, jeans dangling around my knees. When Jamie found me I felt defeated by rough denim fabric, laying on the bed like a fat sea cat. Pulling the jeans down my legs and fishing out my black leggings from the depth of the wardrobe, he kneeled down, taking one of my feet helping me to dress. I said that I am not a child and don’t need to be dressed. Jamie just ignored my hateful remark and suggested that we buy some maternity clothes for me. As he lent me the laptop “There, Sassenach, order what ye like,” I felt as an awful, hateful human being. His cheek was warm and smoothly shaved under my palm. “I’m sorry. I’m being horrid to you.” I whispered kissing the corner of his mouth. He smiled reassuring me it’s okay.

Though I looked rather as if I gained some weight around the middle rather than pregnant, Jamie had a habit of talking to my stomach each night. One of those I got particularly teary-eyed when he laid his head over my bare skin, my fingers running through the silk of his curls. All day I fought with waves of nausea mixed with heartburn that tried to take over my body. Jamie’s thumb placed tender caresses over the swell of my belly. “Ye should let yer mum rest, a leannan.” He whispered softly as his lips brushed at my skin. “Yer such a gift, m'eudail.” When that first tear broke free my hands drew him closer. Fingers smoothing his marble-carved back, he swallowed my quiet confession with his lips. “I need you, Jamie.”

His mouth sealed over the peak of my breast, as my hand traveled down his navel. He stopped then suddenly, looking up at me. “Claire, are ye sure? I…” The tips of his ears turned scarlet red while he tried to find the right words. “I wouldna wish for the bairn to be bounced around.” I laughed then. With that hearty laugh that was only for Jamie. Leaning to kiss his upper lip, I smiled, covering his hand with mine that laid on my stomach. “She won’t notice, I promise.”

Our lovemaking took a totally different meaning since the day Jamie and I learned there is a new life our love created. Jamie’s gentle awareness of “little olive” inside my womb as his body moved atop of mine, the way that small swell of my belly was sheltered between us.

One morning as I went through the post and bills while Jamie poured hot water into the two cups of Earl Grey I hesitated but asked him anyway. The last couple of days he’s been unusually quiet. He sat down, facing me on the other side of the table, fingers circling the cup rim. After long minutes of silence, he finally confessed.

“What if I am a bad father?”

Voice quivered with nervousness and worry Jamie said that if he can’t manage a cat (the time Adso ran away) how could he even manage a brand new human being? I stood up, circling him from behind. Nose buried in his soft curls, I pressed a kiss to his hair. “You’ll be the best dad in the world. Do you know how I know it?” He shook his head as my hips took residency on his lap. “It’s how much you love your nieces and nephews. The way you worry about Jenny and Ian. Your commitment to calling Brian every day, making sure you two talk enough.” My hands wrapped around his neck. “It’s the way you take care of me, Jamie. Of us.” His palm splayed atop my stomach and then he smiled.

It was true. Jamie has taken such good care of me like no one before. He decided it was his mission to learn everything about our pregnancy and he lived with his Iphone glued to his hand. Jamie googled how to get rid of nausea and was brewing a potion like a magician every evening. It was ginger tea with a tinge of lemon. Simple enough but it always calmed the wave of nausea that visited me frequently. Jamie made sure I stayed hydrated, downloading an app on my phone to remind me about my water intake. He never protested (only internally) when I had a particular night time craving for strawberries or Nandos. Even when I was a fierce, angry future mum tired from endless night visits to the bathroom, morning vomiting and all-time fatigue, Jamie never complained. He managed to soothe me every time his arms wrapped around me. “Yer just tired, Claire.” His forehead leaned against mine. “Ye may be angry and frustrated, ye may even be furious with me for no reason.” He laughed softly. “But yer carrying my child and for that alone I owe ye my life.”

After a doctor's appointment when we heard the heartbeat of our baby for the first time it suddenly felt so real. Walking hand in hand along the busy Edinburgh streets I watched Jamie’s face. It was as someone spilled a bucket of happiness infused paint all over him. He grinned like a Chesire cat and kept debating with me over the baby names. “Ye canna name a lass Mary or… Or Kate!” I rolled my eyes at him as Jamie opened a door for me. “Oh, neither do you get to call the baby Morag! Over my dead body, James Fraser.” I hissed, stepping into a store with handmade baby furniture. He mumbled something about great Scottish Gaelic names but I only waved my hand at him, noticing gorgeous white baby crib.

“Dinna listen to him,” Jenny smiled, handing me a pastel pink onesie. “Men rarely understand anything when it comes to names. Ian would gladly call all our bairns with the names from Lord of the Rings.”  I laughed setting the presents she brought next to the baby crib that now was a perfect fit inside the nursery. It was the only thing we’d bought so far, besides Jenny’s kind clothing gifts. We still had a lot of time for purchasing baby things. Jamie’s sister also shoved prenatal vitamins in my hands, the extras she had from her last pregnancy. Adso decided it is his toy. For the last week my cat slept only in a crib with my vitamins securely between his furry paws.

I hummed appreciative “mmm” as Jamie’s warm palm soothed my aching lower back. “Are ye sure ye’ll be alright, Sassenach?” Jamie ran his thumb on the bridge of my nose. “I’ll be just fine.” Cupping the back of his neck, I leaned in t0 kiss the reddish stubble on his jaw. “If I need you, I’ll call.” He nodded but worry swam at the bottom of azure ocean as he looked down. “I need ye and the bairn to be safe and healthy.” Turning my back to spoon him, his hand laid on my waist, face pressed at my nape I smiled into the pillow. “We are.”

Next day Jamie headed off to Glasgow to open up a new brewery with his uncles while I myself awaited three surgeries at work. At the end of a carotid endarterectomy I felt an awful backache but had no chance to sit down for longer than five minutes in between starting with the other patient. Thinking that I probably should reschedule my working time another hour has passed. I wanted to call Jamie on my lunch break but as my feet walked towards the cafeteria suddenly my body folded in two. I groaned, hand braced on the wall. Claws-digging, cramping pain shot in my lower belly. Feeling faint I noticed Geillis’s ginger head as she grabbed me by the arms. “Claire, what on earth is happening?” Her eyes traveled down my body, mouth frozen with whatever she wanted to say. There was a bloody spot on my scrub pants, growing like spilled wine glass.

It's funny the things you remember - like spilled coffee making a stain on my coat, chilly November morning and memory of hot whisper sending goosebumps down my skin, "I love you" said in an agony and fear of losing him, losing us. Or the vase that Jamie had bought me and it found its place on the top shelf in my bedroom.

“Geil, what… what is happening? ” My voice shook. So small and fragile, not my own.

I knew well enough what was going on. But my foolish, tender heart hoped that it's not true. That Geillis will smile and tell me it’s nothing, nothing serious. I saw her green eyes swell with tears as my own closed. I’ve never seen her cry before.

* * *

“Ye bloody Scottish bastard! Pick up, Jamie.” Geillis’s voice rolled as thunder inside hospital walls but cold, robotic one kept repeating “The number your dial is out of range. Please, try again.”

[fiction-in-my-blood]

Switching Sides: Part 13 (HLITF)

if anyone possibly wants to get on a tag list I’d be happy to make one

👉 @theshove 👈

If you wanna catch up, Part 12 is right here! Happy reading :)

Premise: Growing up in a life of crime in a Japanese mafia, Atsuko Motomori has seen enough injustice to last her a lifetime. To try and give back to the universe her family has taken so much from, she dreams of being a detective from a young age. Her twin, sharing her disgust for her father and many uncles, just wants an ordinary life away from the crime, paing and suffering. Instead, she wants to be in the spotlight with the soft notes she makes with her cello. In their escape of 2015, on their coming of age birthday, they must split ways, never to be together ever again. If one was found, they didn’t want the other dragged down with them. Atsuko, having changed her name and appearance as best she can without a scalpel, sets off to start her life of car chases and arrests.

Four years in a seemingly dead-end police station in the middle of nowhere, being passed over time after time for promotion, Atsuko finally gets a shot at her dream, having been sent to an academy for the best candidates in the country by her boss who had always kept an eye out for her. After discovering her boss may have made her bite off more than she could chew, Atsuko must become the slave of a dominating instructor!? Who so just happens to be the captain of the most famous police unit in Japan? Not to mention a total knockout! Will Atsuko finally achieve her dream? Or will her new instructor put her through the wringer?

Warnings: Language, Reference to sexual activity, Forceful nature, Abuse, Kidnapping, Torture.

~~~~~~

A week and a half had passed since I awoke in the hospital. My recovery was slow, painstakingly so, and I found my thoughts trailing back to every painful memory I had. But, no matter how scared and depressed I got, Kaga would always somehow show up, explaining he had more questions for me, and I would be able to slowly explain to him the same story I had been repeating for days at that point. It was almost comforting and with the silent stare he showed me every time I was able to complete the tale, I felt myself connecting with reality a little bit more. It showed me, reporting to him, that I had lived through it.

~~~~~~

"He's being sentenced today," Juna announced as she sat on the couch in my room, eating some noodles she had bought on the way over. We both stared out the window, the sky raining down hard pellets on the city below. It was a soothing sound to fill the silence that followed her announcement.

"What... What if he doesn't get imprisoned?" I couldn't help my imagination get the better of me. What if he was set free when all the evidence magically disappeared? What if the defence was able to create enough reasonable doubt for the jury to deem him innocent? What if he didn't get a long enough sentence?

I had filmed a video of my witness statement for the courts several days ago, and that was traumatic enough. If I had to do it again in an appeal the defence made up to weaken the case, I wouldn't be able to go up in front of the world and tell my story. I couldn't share with them all my years of weakness as I allowed myself to be abused by the man who was meant to protect me.

"He's going to be put away, Katsu. Don't even put that into the universe." A displeased expression flew over Juna's face as she turned to me, cringing even at how I could think of that happening. I knew it was irrational. The case was solid. There was no way for him to snake out of this one. But, still... I couldn't help but worry.

"Oh!" Juna suddenly gasped, placing a hand on her bursting belly. She was a matter months away from the due date, so the gasp in surprised caused fear of a miscarriage to circulate my brain. I called out, questioning her what was wrong as I lifted the sheets off my legs. She laughed, jumping up and pushing me back on the bed before I could even rest my covered feet on the cold floor. I was only allowed one assisted lap around the hospital floor a day, and I had already used that token up.

"It's fine. I'm fine. Here." She smiled, taking my hand and placing it where her's had previously been. There, I felt a pressure poking from her belly and recoiled in uneasy disgust. She laughed at my childish reaction to her baby kicking and went to sit down again.

Biting the tip of my thumb, the reality of her birthing a child of her own hit me again. At least, for this one, they might not have to worry as much as we did growing up. They would still be hidden from the world, hidden from what remained of my father's mob, but maybe they would have some freedom to be happy and childish for longer than we did.

"That smells really good." I sighed, trying to distract myself from those lingering thoughts, referring to her takeout food. It felt like years since I had swallowed something solid. My stomach felt empty most of the time, but thanks to the IVs, I never felt truly hungry. Just a little uncomfortable.

Juna laughed at me, explaining that she knew I wasn't really allowed solids yet. "I had pudding yesterday! Come on, just a noodle." I pointed one finger up to show how little I needed. My jaw almost felt weak; not using it for so long. She laughed again, picking up a strand between two fingers and dropping it into her mouth teasingly.

The more we talked and she teased me, the more relaxed I became. It was only when she left did I ever let my thoughts return. Let them consume me the way they did. As she told me what romantic thing Kanto had done this morning, a knock came to my door. We both turned and my eyes grew at who stood there.

For a moment, I saw the man that fed me when I was in captivity. He smiled, holding a bag of candies in one hand, showing it to me like it was a prize. I yelled, screaming as I jumped out of my bed and pushed myself to the back corner.

"No! Go away!" I cried out, him watching my reaction made his expression fall.

"Katsu! Katsumi, calm down! It's just Noburu." Juna ran to me from the other side of the bed and held my shoulders to try and stop my kicking. Tears streamed down my face as I begged for the man to leave. I didn't want the kindness he showed me, I was so sure it was what made me feel the true extent of the pain I felt.

Soon enough, nurses came rushing in, pushing passed the man that stayed in the doorway, face blank with shock. When they couldn't calm me down, I felt a sharp pain in my shoulder and my consciousness quickly faded.

~~~~~~

"This is the worst day she's had so far." Katsumi's doctor told the man and woman that stayed in her room as she slept in the bed. After her breakdown, the surgeon was called to help explain why she had reacted so vividly and check up on her condition. Luckily, she hadn't ripped a stitch from her surgery.

"But she knew Noburu before it happened. Why would she think he was one of her captors? She hasn't seen him in weeks!" Juna fretted, sympathetic worry spreading across her face as the bartender looked at the sleeping beauty guiltily.

"I don't know, but you can't come again. Not until she's healed. She still has weeks of rehab ahead of her." The doctor turned to the young man and he nodded solemnly.

"Surely she'd learn to remember what Noburu really looks like?" Feeling sorry for the man she knew loved her sister, Juna pleaded his case.

"It's too risky when she's still in this vulnerable stage. When she can fall asleep unaided and have a peaceful night, then you can try. I'm sorry, but you need to leave." Doctor shaking his head, Noburu left, leaving the treats he knew Katsumi would have loved on the table at the end of her bed.

~~~~~~

"What's this?" Instructor Kaga asked as I laid in my bed, staring intensely out the window. When I was sleeping, I had another dream about my captors, but this one seemed so surreal, it had really shaken me up. I hadn't talked to any of the nurses and my mood, not to mention my mental stability, was completely at rock bottom.

"Juna left it for me. You can have it, I'm not allowed to eat." I groaned, shuffling onto my back and sitting up to see Kaga already sifting through it. From what I suspected, he had come to tell me the result of my father's hearing, but all he had done so far was steal my-get-well-soon presents.

Sitting in silence, I bit the tip of my thumb to distract the nerves in my stomach. Kaga seemed very content with chewing on the soft sugary treat gifted to me.

"Will you tell me already?" I called out, throwing my fists into my mattress in irritation. Kaga looked at me with a raised brow, his demeaningly concerned look replaced on his face. "My father's trial. You came to tell me what happened, right?" I asked again, needing to know. The anticipation was too much.

"I don't know yet," Kaga grumbled and returned to the squishy cake in between his fingers. I frowned, crossing my arms and turning to look out the window again. It was still raining, even though a day had passed since I was last awake.

The silence was almost too much to bear, so, with a desperate need to cover my thoughts, I grabbed the remote controller on the table beside my bed and pointed it to the radio on the counter across the room. Classical music with a leading group of strings burst from it and I closed my eyes as I tried to drown out my thoughts and every sensory memory I had of weeks prior.

Suddenly, the volume decreased significantly and my gaze shot open to see Kaga standing beside it.

"Are you 90?" He frowned, throwing the pink packaging of the cake in the trash can by the door as he returned to the couch.

"It's my sister's. She helps me calm down." I sighed, turning it up again, although keeping it lower than before as it seemed to annoy him so much. Then, Kaga sprung up again, approaching my bed.

"You won't be able to recover if you just block it out." He placed a hand on the bar above my head and the other on the guarded rail on my bed, leaning in close so all my senses were enveloped by him. His smoke and cologne scent. His face was all I could see. His words repeated over and over again in my head. The warmth of his chest emitting onto my slightly cooler body. My eyes grew wide and I felt my heart stop due to the proximity.

"You need to learn to deal with that if you want to return to the academy." His voice was low and the comment made my head jerk in surprise. He thought I was going to return to my old life? After all the trouble I caused?

"There's no chance I can get back in. My entire resume is fake, let alone my application. I thought I was going to get kicked if I didn't work for you." I frowned my brows, saddened to have to admit I would never be able to complete my dream. Looking down, I found the arm he had encompassed over me. Running my gaze down to his hand, I noticed his knuckles white with pressure.

Before Kaga could retort, a small voice came from the doorway. "Instructor, I have the files you asked for."

Watching Kaga draw back, my eyes locked with a girl I once had a close connection with. She looked tired, a little worse for wear, but most of all, she was teary-eyed.

"Naruko," I uttered under my breath, honestly shocked to see her here. She just stood there, holding onto a beige folder. Kaga stormed over, snatching it from her.

"You're late." He grumbled, taking it and reading through it. I gulped when Naruko's gaze didn't fall from mine.

"Would you come here already? I can't exactly get up." I smiled through blurry vision, trying to reconnect with the girl I left behind. Her shoulder slumped and she ran towards me, wrapping her arms around my neck.

"What the hell, Atsuko! I thought you were dead! I mean, you were dead! How could you betray me?" She shouted in my ear the name she knew me by, tears flying down her face and onto my shoulder. I bit my lip guiltily.

"I'm sorry but... How did I betray you?" I laughed when she pulled back and showed me an out of character frown.

"You said we would graduate together! Why did you leave?" She frowned and my breathing stopped. The happiness I nurtured from seeing her slowly died as I was reminded once again of what I couldn't accomplish.

"He's got life." Kaga suddenly announced, drawing both of our attention towards him. He still had his gaze in the folder, but I knew what he was talking about. My father... He's going to die in prison?

"What?" I asked, feeling Naruko's confusion as she was pushed further into the unknown of my situation. Even though I had an idea of what he was on about, I wanted to make sure. I wanted to make sure I wasn't being hopeful.

"He's got 100 years in jail for ratting some of his partners. He’ll probably be dead by the time that’s up." Kaga seemed hesitant at first but still told me. I gripped the sheets by my leg and reached for my phone on the table.

"You, go back to the academy." Kaga shot a glare at Naruko and she quickly followed his order by running to the door. Before she left, she passed me a meaningful smile and closed the door behind her.

"You're going to recover and you're returning to work," Kaga announced once he was sure Naruko was gone as I stared at my phone, desperately trying to make sense of the clusters of blur in front of me. My vision still hadn't corrected, but I was growing a sense of understanding when I could see the characters. It was so frustrating, trying to see when I knew couldn't. No matter how hard I squinted or how sternly I stared at the object, I couldn't make sense of anything. I couldn't even see my sister's face when she hugged me. I couldn't see myself in the mirror. Just a blur of skin and the white of my hospital gown.  

"I can't! How am I supposed to be a detective when I can't even stop this from happening?" I shouted, suddenly enraged by how poor my eyesight had gotten, throwing my phone into the wall of my hospital room to dismiss my problems. It fell into reconnectable pieces at the force.

"I became a cop to protect us, but I failed at that. Juna got kidnapped and I put her baby in danger. All I did at the academy was make mistake after mistake. My recklessness put complete strangers in danger! A boy almost lost his mom! How can I work when whatever I do gets people hurt?" I shouted, tears spilling from my eyes when I didn't care who heard me. I was angry and sad and broken and I just wanted to cry.

Suddenly, I felt arms around me. My head was pulled against a soft, hard surface and I felt a warm breath on my hair. My eyes widened when I realised Kaga was holding me, trying to calm me down.

"You're always so damn loud." I heard him mutter as more tears spilt from my eyes. I clutched the arm around my front for support, needing to know that I wasn't in that room. I needed to know this was reality because lately, I've been having trouble differentiating.

“Just shut up for a minute and remember where you are. Forget the past. It won’t do you any good.”

At some point during my pathetic weeping, with the little sleep I had been getting, I slipped into unaided unconsciousness, something else I’d been struggling with since I was saved.

[honeybeewriter]

Icarus

Chapter 1: The Rebel Princess

Au: Fantasy AU

Word count: 2.6k 

Pairing: Hawks x reader

Warning: Smoking, light cussing

Link to next part:

A/N: im super excited to be writing this story! its my first story ive written in a long time and im super happy to share the first chapter of Icarus with you guys! hope yall enjoy it as much i as i do!

Aesthetic:

This overbearing weight of being royalty and responsibilities of princess has hung on your shoulders like a horse stomping on a snake, it was awful to say the least. Along with this your father had now set up an arranged marriage to the kingdom next over to make peace: something you did not want. No, your heart soared for adventure and your senses longed to smell the sea and feel the cool breeze through your (h/c) locks. It’s a wish, a dream, something far from your grasp.  

The morning dew settled among the kingdom, golden warm rays flooded in through the window, caressing your face, rubbing against your eyes as they flutter open. The feeling of silk and cotton danced along your naked legs, you stir awake, outstretching your arms. A gentle knock echo’s out into the silent room, before the creaking of the door opening. “Ah,princess (l/n) you’re awake!” The maid known as Mina entered the room, with a bow. “You know m’lady you should get out for a while! I know about your little dreams” Mina laughs as your face flusters “Mina!” you exclaimed and held your hands to your face “I’ll cover for you, Please don’t bring home another fae!” you had jumped out of bed at the thought of adventure. “Mina! Tamaki is a nice fae!! Don’t be rude!” You both erupt in fits of laughter. What a start to the day. 

Adventure was in the air, as you snuck out of the castle. You dawn a fine silk gown that a fair maiden would wear, a pale lavender tone matched with a wine red hooded cloak: To hide your identity from the ones who would stitch to your father.  

Across the forest, in a cart with friends laughing and having fun. A winged man stood with a guitar singing a merry tune, a man with burn scars guiding a horse with a scowl, a woman with blonde hair in buns reading her daily tarots card. The winged man lowers his guitar and his singing fades as he begins to speak “Hey Toga, whats is my card today?” he asked, sitting in front of the witch, who then shuffles them a few times before drawing out. The wheel of fortune. “Oh! Change is coming! This can be exciting, this means something big is at work, but what goes up must come down. Therefore be careful when change comes!” Toga explained before putting away her cards her satchel. The man with scars turned around and glanced at the two “There is a kingdom coming up, and we need to resupply before heading onwards.” His voice husk from smoking as teen, he still does nonetheless. The song of the frogs and bird sang throughout the woods as the trots of the horse and that squeaky wheel join in the chorus.

The winged man looks to the sky and ponders,Hm change? I wonder what the winds will bring me? The clouds line the sun, like curtains with only peeks of yellows rays shining down. The cart comes to a stop, and the man with raven hair and scars stood up, while lighting a cigarette “Alright we are here, no trouble, gather supplies and come back to the cart before sunset” He inhales the tobacco and puffs out a cloud of smoke. “Got it, keigo?” 

Keigo looks back with a smirk “Me trouble, pssh, never. You’re the one that burnt that caravan, Dabi, oh powerful burnt bastard!” Dabi snarls, clenching his fist tightly “Get out of here you damn buzzard!” keigo waved him off as he slipped on a leather jacket that was inscribed with magical rune that hid his wings. “Meet here at sunset, got it crazy?” Dabi spoke to toga as keigo ventured off into the kingdom.

The town was lively and hardy, towns folk chatter and trade, while the echoes of laughter of children and barks from the stray dogs dance throughout the streets. The smell of fresh baked goods with the smell of blood from the meat market, not very pleasant to smell. You browsed the fruit stands, gliding your hand along the fresh picks, thinking within your thoughts of today's adventure; maybe a nice picnic in my secret garden, or maybe an adventure in the outside forest. Your mind was so deep in thought that you hadn't noticed that a certain knight was next to you. 

“Ahem!” the knight coughed, causing you to jump with fear, as your eyes followed the armor, you gulped.. Iida.. “What are you doing here Iida!” you barked as you gathered up some fruit that had caught your eye, paying the merchant. “I should be asking you that Princess.”  Iida was a stickler for the kings rules and so the king had appointed young iida as your bodyguard, since you liked to skip out and such. “Iida please let me have today off! Please!” you begged as you held the bag fruit to your chest, bouncing like a child begging for a sweet. 

Now usually rumors and gossip caught Keigo's attention but, overhearing the about the rebellious princess, now that caught his keen hearing. As he turns from the stand he sees a tall knight and a cloaked person unknowingly, it was the princess. He strolls on over and wraps an arm around your neck. “Look, knight, i'm sure you have some crown to guard, so do me and my friend here a favor and bug off would yah?” and without waiting for an answer keigo whisps you away into the crowded streets. 

“Geez what a killjoy!” keigo said as he leads you to a quieter part of town, “Ha, I'm sorry if that was weird or if i made you uncomfortable, but that knight seemed to be hard on yo-” Keigo was cut off as you whipped out your opal knife, “Look i don’t know you or where you came from, you take me back to my knight!” You snarled. Keigo just laughed and grabs gentle onto your wrist, lowering the knife “Ah so you are the rebellious princess i’ve heard about! Tell me, Do you really want to go back?” you look defeated and huffed, shaking your head no as you sheath your knife. 

“No not really i just want to go to my garden and eat.” You said as you lowered your cloaks hood. Keigo finally got a good look at your face, (h/l) beautiful (h/c) hair, along with a pair of radiant (E/c) orbs, that sparkled in the sun. You looked just like a princess, no.. a queen at best. His eyes lit up as he looked your body up and down. “Will you please stop oodling me, come on, i guess you will have to be my pretend bodyguard for now” You spoke, you knew when they found the both of you. The two of yall were in serious trouble, him more so, i mean kidnapping a princess that is very bad to the king. 

The streets grew into dirt roads, and the houses disappear as you walked further into the depth of the kingdom, humming a tune, singing as you go. Keigo follows of course, his curiosity growing about you, a runaway princess. 

 “Down in the depths, where the marble stairs cry, to left pink flowers hang their lives, make a right. Trot down the path into the pine, two stones of moss on the northside, listen to the whisper of the willow that lays upon the pond bank , that is where you will find. The sweet little spot of mine.”

Pure white marble stairs lay in bed against the hillside, a makeshift stream runs down the steps, carrying twigs and leaves, a sight to see. Such sad marble stairs longing to be cleaned and re-purposed. Keigo watched as you took off your shoes, the sound of splashing as you walk down the steps. He follows in suit taking his own shoes off, the pitter patter of wet feet echo throughout the silent forest-line.

You stop and look up, “Up there is where the pink flowers hang.” you loop your arm with his as you tell the story about a lonely prince who once lived in this ruin. How his family had gotten a witch to curse the boy, he was a sweet green haired prince who wanted adventure like yourself, but one day he had crossed a line into the dragon land, and he had fallen in love with the king. But once his family found out he was shunned, and casted out. One day his dragon king had found him and they were happy, but the curse of the witch:

Those be warned who want to find the lost, if you travel further than the pine you will find poison, outcast from his family, a lock against the seal, betrayed, outcasted its a weakened deal. The blood of royalty lay among the scales, heed my warning, your life frail. 

“Story of the green prince and the king.. So is this place cursed or something?” Keigo asked as you both walk into the pine forest “i believe it is cause i found the skeletons of the two” You said as your hand glides across the brush as you walk. “That must have been a sight to see.”  Your face fell as the memory plays in your head. The two skeletons embracing in against a tree seemly untouched by mother nature. “A pure sad sight” You tug the blonde male along the path. 

Two stones with moss on the northside, and the whispering willow. The two of you stop admiring the willows horror filled beauty. The willow had to be at least 100 years old, her branches twisting and growing in a way that makes your stomach get a sick feeling. A thick fog rolling over the lake, like a dress dancing over a marble floor. 

“So are we almost there?” Keigo asks his eyes fixed out onto the stilled water. Taking the male’s hand you pull him along into the ruin of clay and brick, a small grotto hides away this lostwonder of a place. Keigo's eyes widen, what a hidden away little base. “Wow, this must have been their home.” Keigo rubbed the back of his neck as he took a seat on the edge of the water basin, you sat next to the male and pulled out the fruit bag that you had bought earlier. 

“So what brings you to the kingdom of berbile?” you questioned With a small chuckle as he takes a pear, 

“I'm actually just passin by, me and a few friends are heading west towards the coast.” He takes a bite of the green fruit, the juice running down into his beard. Your ears perk up at the mention of the ocean.  ‘Wait you mean the ocean! That's like a 5 month cart drive! Give or take if weather and such.” your voice chirps, your eyes brighten at the thought of the salty breeze.

 You take a chomp out of your (F/F) as he explains the mission that his leader sent him on

. “Keigo, dabi and toga i need you three to go west and find recruits, send them back this way we are finally going to take down the two kingdoms along the way, When you get to the ocean that is when you will turn around and come back.”

 Keigo looks at you and ponders “you want adventure, do you not?” 

Keigo quirks his eyebrow at you. You frantically nod your head. “Yes yes!! More than anything! My father has set up an arranged marriage and to hell with keeping the peace to the kingdom” You jump up on the bricks of where you were sitting “I rather see the world!” You exclaimed, pumping your fist into the air. 

Keigo grins “Well why don't you get a maid to gather clothes and meet me by the castle walls near the stables, tonight after dark?”

--

Later on you both went separate ways to avoid getting caught by iida and the other guards, The night set among the land, the quarter moon in the sky guiding your path to the outskirts of the kingdoms edge. 

“Mina i have to go, this is my only chance to get adventure! I won't be coming back, please come with me, won't you!” You held your bag in your arms, dawning a black cloak, money clattered in the coin purse as you pull against minas arm. “(Y/n) as much as i know you want adventure you know, your father will be mad if he finds you gone!” She huffs and pulls you back towards your room. 

“Tell him I died or something I don't care! I'm leaving this kingdom, and you're not stopping me!”  you exclaimed with tears in your eyes, jerking your arms back to your side. Mina looks at you, her eyes soften and a damn broke through, her cheeks flooded and pink. 

“Go, Ill cover for you” You embrace each other in a tight hug before your crawled down the makeshift bed sheet ropes and disappeared into the darkness. 

Giving one last look to the home you grew up in. The hell that was raised, your mother would be proud of you for leaving this greed filled kingdom. 

Dabi tapped his foot impatiently, “You said this girl would be here by now, Where is she!?” he barked, flicking the ash from his cigarette, keigo huffed and  stretched his neck looking over nothing to see if anyone was there Where is she? He pondered. Out of the shadows a small hooded figure comes running, a 2 large bag on its back and a large purse in the other.

Toga grins, looking up from her spot in the cart “oh? You made friends with the Princess I see now~” toga giggled as keigo brushed her off, lighting a torch and holding it out “Two stones!” he called out, dabi and toga give him a weird look before hearing. “With moss on the northside!” a soft voice returns 

Keigo jumps off the old wooden cart, his boots met the mud as your flats met the end of the stone road. You flipped your hood down allowing your (h/c) locks to fall into place. “So it is the princess, damn hawks. Boss will be pleased.” Dabi takes a drag, blowing out a cloud of ashy smoke. “Alright princess, load up, it's gonna be a long journey.” 

You get into action, tossing your bags into the bed of the worn cart, Toga leaning against the edge, looking you over. “This is certainly some change, a princess joining 3 commoners. I'm sure once the king finds out your missing, people will be after us.” The blond female giggles and sits back down, “Call me (Y/n) (L/N). please. No need to be formal, its stupid.” 

Keigo helps you into the cart and then jumps up into the passenger seat next to dabi. “Well you know who i am, This burnt bastard is dabi, Just dabi, he refuses to tell us his real name, and that little crazy next to you is Toga!”

Dabi whips the reins, causing the horses that pull the cart to move on. The clatter of hooves against the ground, the old night owl, singing his hunting song. The voices of the howling wolves, echo throughout the forest. Keigo takes off his magical jacket,  and a pair of beautiful deep  crimson wings emerge. Your eyes in wonder, “Wait you didn't tell me that you had wings, keigo!!” 

“Makes him look like a buzzard if you ask me!” Dabi chims as toga laughs. “Hah, Yeah each of us has some kind power, i'm a witch, dabi up there is a warlock and keigo is just cursed!” Toga explained. 

You look over the three with a warm smile. Adventure was well among its way, and youll be there to greet it with open arms

[vexedtonightmares]

last dance (elu ballet au) chapter seize

Lucas is in his final year at the Paris Opera Ballet School and he’ll be damned if he lets his former friend-turned-rival Eliott steal the lead role in their production of Swan Lake.

aka- lucas and eliott are rivals who are forced to room together for their final year of ballet school before they try to enter the company. we can all see where this is going.  

i. ii. iii. iv. v. vi. vii. viii. ix. x. xi. xii. xiii. xiv. xv. xvi.

ao3

**tw: mentions of eating disorder and bipolar disorder**

Dimanche 12:44

They were a week out from the show, which meant everyone was in a frenzy. The studios had been booked all day and people came and went as they pleased to practice, everyone a little bit more sluggish than usual on account of the late night they’d all ended up having. 

After Eliott and Lucas’ show, their whole year stayed in the auditorium all night under the guise of cleaning it up, but they were really just enjoying one another’s company. There weren’t going to be many more nights like this, so they had to take advantage while they still could. The silly string actually smelled quite bad, but Lucas didn’t think any of them had cared much about it, too lost in the moment and each other to think about anything other than their happiness. It was so beautiful to experience, being in a group like this one. Sure, some of them were better friends with each other than others were, but that night they’d all been one unit built through sweat, strength, blood, broken nails, and more than a few tears.  

Lucas was still finding silly string buried in his hair when he ran his hands through it as he practiced, and even though it was kind of gross, he couldn’t help but smile. 

He and Eliott were switching off rehearsing with Manon and Imane, both of whom chided them multiple times for not paying enough attention to their partners and too much attention to each other. Thankfully, Lucas had already gotten a fair amount of practice with Manon, so they looked to be in good shape for the weekend. Imane and Eliott hadn’t had as much time to work through the choreography together, but it didn’t seem likely that the two of them would have to perform together on stage, so they weren’t worried.

They had yet to run through the entire ballet in full costume onstage, and Lucas couldn’t have been more excited to start dress rehearsals. They wouldn’t start until the next morning since the show was beginning on Friday, and Lucas hoped that nothing would go wrong, but he didn’t want to jinx it. There was still a lot to be done, and so much that could go wrong, but they were so close.  

It was quite surreal that it was finally happening. It seemed like just yesterday he’d come back to school with Manon, marvelling at the year ahead. At the same time, it seemed stupid that at that point he’d been so overcome with blind hatred he’d thought he wouldn’t survive the year sharing a room with Eliott. Now he couldn’t imagine surviving without him. 

Eliott flashed him a smile just meant for the two of them, like a secret they shared, and Lucas dropped his head to hide his own grin. One of the best things about falling in love was the secret language that came with it, the one neither person had to learn but already knew by heart. It was a good thing he would never have to live without Eliott.

“I love you,” he mouthed across the room, because he was sappy and he could. If Eliott was the sun, then he was Icarus, flying, falling, but ever in love with its golden rays and the warmth it brought into his life. 

Imane snapped in front of his face and he realized he’d probably been staring too long with a dopey expression on his face. The blush that always adorned his cheeks around Eliott deepened, even as Eliott mouthed the words back to him behind Imane. 

“I swear, if I’d known you were going to be this insufferable in love, I never would have wished for it for my birthday,” Manon teased, ruffling his hair.

“Shut up,” he groaned, leaning out of her reach, then paused. “Wait… you’re joking, right?”

She raised one eyebrow, turning back to face the mirror with a smirk on her face. She was such a shit, but he supposed he couldn’t complain because the two of them were cut from the same cloth. He pretended not to notice Imane rolling her eyes at all three of them. He knew it was in jest anyways, he knew that Imane liked him a whole lot more than she pretended to. 

And, thinking of her, he had to get all the information out of her about her and Sofiane. They could pretend nothing was going on all they wanted, but literally everyone knew it was a lie. He was happy for her, whatever the case, because he could tell she and Sofiane cared about each other deeply and had for practically their whole lives.

Caring was something he’d grown up without, never really considering the impact it might have when he found it. He liked to be cared for, he’d come to realize. Being cared for wasn’t being pitied or belittled, it was a show of pure affection from someone who loved you through thick and thin. Sure, it would still take him some getting used to, but Manon, Imane, and Eliott were just the people to help him with that. He liked to be the one giving care as well, it came more naturally, probably because he’d done it unknowingly with his mother when he was young. There was nothing quite like showing someone how much they meant to you. 

The rehearsals continued, going by more smoothly than initially anticipated, mostly due to the fact that the four of them were pretty professional when they wanted to be. It was strange for the show to be looming so close, it really was. Even stranger still was the fact that Lucas would dance the role of his dreams with one of his best friends opposite him in front of an audience that was sure to be more overwhelming than any he’d ever experienced prior. 

Thinking about it led to wild daydreams of performing on the same stage as the principal dancer in the Paris Opera Ballet Company. If he even wanted to stay there, that was. It seemed blasphemous to even think of leaving, but he wasn’t assured a place in the company and he didn’t know if this environment was the one he was destined to belong in. He and Eliott hadn’t talked much about what they were going to do after this year, and Lucas had been avoiding thinking about it too much. Not so long ago he’d feared there would be no future for him. He’d wait until after the show, he decided, then he would figure out what the hell he was going to do with his life and his career, if his brain could hold out that long. 

Career was a weird word for him to use, even in the confines of his own mind. It meant that his dreams were in reach should he decide to reach out and grab them. Hopefully they wouldn’t slip through his fingers. 

Eliott snaked a hand around his shoulders, knocking their heads together. “Break time?” he asked, probably noticing how Lucas had zoned out over the last few minutes. Lucas nodded sinking into Eliott’s embrace. 

“Perfect,” Manon said, patting her forehead for sweat that wasn’t there. It boggled his mind, honestly, how she simply didn’t sweat, like she’d just decided not to or something. “I have to meet Daphné,” she continued, light flush coating her cheeks. 

“Why haven’t I been giving you a hard time about that?” Lucas wondered aloud, considering all the jokes he could have made about the two of them. Manon surely hadn’t held back on his behalf. 

“Because you love us both too much,” Manon suggested with a wink, and Lucas rolled his eyes at her. 

He raised one eyebrow, gathering his things from the front of the room. “I take offense on behalf of me and Eliott,” he said, nudging Eliott, who nodded even though he’d been talking to Imane.

Manon pouted at him, patting his cheek maternally. “Please, as if you don’t already know how much I love you.”

“That’s so sweet, Manon, but I’m gay,” he lamented.

“Me too,” she mocked, in the same tone of voice, “For the most part at least.”

She kissed him on both cheeks, waving to Eliott and Imane before leaving, eyes glued to whatever Daphné had probably just sent her on her phone. Eliott re attached himself to Lucas immediately after her absence, bodies melding into place, such a comfort in existing side by side. 

Imane left as well, reminding them to meet back there in an hour or so to continue rehearsing, and Eliott and Lucas trailed a bit behind, too lost in their own world to see her meet up with Sofiane and walk off in the opposite direction. 

Eliott covered Lucas’ eyes as they walked back to their room, both of them giggling like giddy schoolchildren, and he uncovered Lucas’ eyes with a flourish after struggling to open the door without his hands. 

“Ta da!” he exclaimed proudly, gesturing to their room.

Lucas looked around for what the surprise was supposed to be. “Ah, Eliott? What am I supposed to be looking at?”

Eliott’s face fell and turned bright red as he bolted behind the kitchen counter, cursing. He rematerialized a moment later, holding a tray of muffins. Despite himself, Lucas softened. 

“My famous blueberry-bacon muffins,” Eliott said proudly, and Lucas tried not to visibly show any disgust. 

“When did you make them?” he asked instead, and Eliott blushed again. 

“Ok, technically I didn’t make these ones specifically, Idriss did, but that’s only because we’ve been rehearsing all day and I still wanted to do something special for you,” Eliott continued with a timid smile. Every time Lucas thought Eliott couldn’t be more endearning, he had to go and do something like make Lucas want to eat blueberry-bacon muffins, didn’t he?

Lucas took the tray from his hands and set it on the counter before wrapping his arms around Eliott’s neck. “I’m sure I’ll love them,” he lied, then pressed their foreheads together, “But not half as much as I love you.”

“I’d give you the world if I could,” Eliott said sincerely, and Lucas believed him. He had no reason not to. “No,” he amended, “The universe. Every single one of them.”

Lucas leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “You already have.”

Eliott shut his eyes, rubbing their noses together and wrapping his arms around Lucas’ waist. Neither one of them moved an inch, sinking into the moment, and Lucas was struck by the peace he felt. It was a silent dance, the two of them swaying there in their kitchen slash living room combo area. It was easy to picture living in their own little apartment, spending most of their nights like this. If that was what their future held, no matter how far ahead, Lucas couldn’t wait. 

Lundi 13:07

Eliott’s blueberry-bacon muffins had been awful, so Lucas declined the offer to go home and cook with Eliott during their dress rehearsal lunch break, instead agreeing to join Yann and Arthur in meeting up with Basile. They hadn’t seen him in a while, and Lucas had to admit he missed him and the illusion of normalcy he brought to their lives. He didn’t know how fucked up they’d all been recently, at least in Lucas and Arthur’s case, so there was a lot of catching up to do.

His friends had made him pick the restaurant, probably to assure that he would actually eat, but his knowledge of restaurants was pretty limited due to a combination of his eating problems and lack of free time outside of school, so they ended up at one of the same places they always went to but no one seemed to mind. Lucas ordered himself a sandwich and a salad, ignoring the looks that Yann and Arthur shared over his head. 

Basile joined them, bringing the energy of a thousand suns with him. After exchanging pleasantries, he barrelled into talking about some drama he’d found himself in when Alexia had convinced him to help her throw a clandestine party in their school, but then the night guard turned up and almost caught them, and Lucas realized that if his life was crazy, normal was a whole other level of crazy.

“But, uh, what’s been up with you all?” Basile asked, noting all of their wide eyed gazes. He hadn’t stopped talking for nearly fifteen minutes, not that any of them minded, but he had been eating the entire time as well, words somewhat garbled for at least half the time he’d been speaking. 

Yann and Lucas exchanged a look, wondering where to even begin. Arthur cut in instead. “You’re coming to the show this weekend, right?”

“Of course! I’ve told everyone at school about it a million times. Alexia too. Not sure how many people you can count on, to be fair, but Alexia, Idriss, and I will for sure be there cheering the loudest. Oh, and Alex,” Basile added, almost as an afterthought. 

“Alex?” Yann inquired.

Basile clarified, “From Alexia’s party earlier this year? He and Emma have been dating since then, I think. And he’s friends with Idriss and Sofiane. Not sure about Eliott— oh, sorry, Lucas.”

Lucas furrowed his brows. “What?”

Basile blinked at him. “You hate Eliott?”

Arthur burst out laughing and Lucas blushed bright red. Surely he’d told Baz about Eliott… but then again he’d only just told everyone at school, and not necessarily because he’d wanted to. He just assumed everyone knew at this point, but that clearly wasn’t the case. 

“Ah, Baz,” Lucas began, unsure of how to say it gently, “I’m, um, Eliott and I, um…” Fuck, he couldn’t do this, he felt so weird. Literally all Baz knew of Eliott was shit he’d heard from Lucas over the years, he didn’t have Arthur’s experience living with him or Yann’s ability to see past Lucas’ blind hatred and respect him as a person even if they hadn’t thought they would ever be friends.

“They’re fucking,” Yann supplied, and Lucas smacked him on the arm. 

Basile’s jaw dropped wide open and his eyes searched Lucas’ face, as if looking for a hint that Yann was lying. It was technically true, but what he and Eliott had was so much more than that. 

“They’re in looooove,” Arthur corrected, and Lucas shifted uncomfortably again, watching as Baz’s jaw dropped so far Lucas was convinced it would end up on the floor. Arthur met Lucas’ eyes across the table reassuring him that there were no hard feelings, which Lucas appreciated, because a small part of him did still wonder if there was a universe where Lucas still hated Eliott, and saw Arthur as something more than a friend.

“I need every detail right this minute,” was all Baz seemed to have the ability to say, still in utter shock. Lucas kind of wanted to circle back to Alex dating Emma, and Yann looked like he wanted to as well, but he supposed he didn’t mind talking about Eliott too much. 

The look on his face must have gotten too soft too fast, because Basile nearly yelled in surprise, squinting at him. “Is this what a Lucas in love looks like? It’s terrifying,” he said to Arthur and Yann, and Lucas glared at him. 

“Do you want me to tell you, or not?” he asked, crossing his arms, and Basile finally gestured for him to continue. He hadn’t told Yann or Arthur anything about how it had all gone down really. He launched into how he and Eliott had sort of become friends by accident, various small instances coming to a climax of pushing and pulling each other into a fountain and realizing that their hate was more or less a facade to cover up other feelings, at least in Lucas’ case. 

He snuck in details about his eating disorder, wondering if he’d have to say it or if Basile would be able to infer from context clues. He hoped for the latter but was prepared for the former. Yann and Arthur seemed a little shocked at how many subtle hints they’d missed, but for the most part Lucas and Eliott had been good at keeping their romantic lives separate from the studio and vice versa. He didn’t tell them about Polaris, because he wanted Eliott to be able to tell people about it, but he did talk about the countless nights they’d spent together in the studio and how they’d accidentally been in the room when Manon and Daphné confessed their feelings to each other.

“Wait a minute,” Basile cut him off, holding his hands up. “Daphné… blonde Daphné? Gorgeous Daphné? Love of my life Daphné?”

Lucas shrugged. “Uh, yeah, I guess? What about her?”

Basile dropped his head into his hands dramatically on the table. “No! Do you think they’re going to break up any time soon? I swear, I’ve only met her a few times, but it was love at first sight. And second, and so on.”

“I wouldn’t hold your breath,” Arthur chimed in, patting Basile on the back. “Daphné is a lesbian.”

“She could be bi,” Basile pouted, lifting his head. 

“Ah, but she’s not,” Arthur said apologetically, sharing a look with Lucas. Basile’s antics, while exasperating in large doses, had been sorely missed by Lucas. 

“So what’s going on with Emma and Alex, then?” Yann asked casually, finding his opportunity. 

Lucas narrowed his eyes, speaking in a low, warning, voice, “Yann…”

Yann ignored him, and Basile looked a little disgruntled by the subject change. “I don’t know much, Alex finds me annoying, I think, but him and Emma are annoyingly cute every time I’ve seen them together.”

“Oh, cool,” Yann said nonchalantly, and Lucas shot him another warning glare. Now was not the time for Yann to rediscover his feelings for Emma or get jealous over Emma’s new relationship. 

“What about you, Tuturo?” Basile asked, moving on to eat a bit of Yann’s lunch. “How’s life been treating you?”

Arthur zoned out for a minute, and Lucas completely understood where his head was at. How was he supposed to succinctly wrap up a lifetime of struggle into one neat story to share with a friend? “Fine,” Arthur decided finally, “Better recently than it has been.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Basile sighed. “I must admit, you guys are a lot more boring than I’d hoped.”

Lucas laughed, taking a small bite of his salad. “I just told you all about my secret relationship with my roommate who I previously hated.”

“Yeah, but now you’re all happy and in love,” Basile said ruefully.

“He almost got kicked out of school a week ago, and now he’s playing the lead on alternating shows,” Arthur supplied, pointing his fork at Lucas. 

Basile slammed his hands on the table. “Now this is what I’m talking about! Spill the tea, Lallemant, spill it now.”

Lucas took time to flip Arthur off before considering where to start. He was sure his final year of ballet school would be a story he’d tell for a long, long time, so it didn’t hurt to start then. He wondered how Eliott would tell it, or how Eliott would tell their story. Lucas’ version was tinged with regret and a bit of his chaotic energy, but wrapped in care. Where he might include stories of them doing stupid things and singing stupid songs in the middle of the night, he suspected Eliott would include the soft moments shared in the hazy morning light. Eyes meeting across the kitchen counter and hands gently tangled together as they talked, the only distance between them created by a current of words and thoughts to intimate to share aloud. 

Was Eliott sitting in the kitchen with Sofiane and Idriss at that moment, each of them trying not to cringe over blueberry-bacon muffins as Eliott’s face lit up in wonder talking about their relationship? Was his version yearning and heartache warmed around the edges with the light of the sun that filled Eliott’s heart so full of love?

It was interesting to think about, that was for sure, the fact that there existed parallel universes even inside their own minds. Of course everyone saw and experience life differently, but Lucas had never really thought about it in terms of how two different people might recount the same series of events. It made him consider how he’d been the subject of so many misunderstandings in his life, and how much of that was probably due to his own perspective varying from the perspectives of others. Hadn’t his hatred of Eliott for years proved that? He was quite the unreliable narrator, especially inside his own mind, but wasn’t everyone? Was there even a person in the world who trusted themselves with unflinching clarity? If so, Lucas didn’t envy them. The questioning and mistakes were what made him human, and what made the epiphanies and happy moments much more worthwhile. 

He’d been talking on autopilot while these thoughts ran through his mind, not really even paying attention to Basile’s reactions to the dramatic series of events that he simply called ‘life’. Basile cracked a few jokes when he was done, and Lucas melted into a laugh, shaking his head. A week ago he’d never thought any of this would be worthy or capable of being laughed at, but there they were. 

Healing often took him by surprise, but it showed itself in subtle ways. This laugh, for example, or the fact that he’d eaten his whole meal without overthinking it. It said more about the safe space his friends had provided for him than anything else, but he was glad for it all regardless. He’d only had Eliott for a little while, he’d had these friends much longer, and he would never let himself forget that no matter how much he loved Eliott. Both loves were different, but that didn’t diminish either one of them, both just as important and essential to his healing and growth and livelihood. 

They not only made him better, mentally, and physically, but they also made him want to be a better person so he could return the favor to them. Arthur was his first target, and he didn’t really know how well he was doing, but he was trying, and that would have to count for something. 

Life was just a series of trying and trying and trying again, wasn’t it? Lucas had come close to not trying as of late, but he was glad he hadn’t stopped completely, because the payoff was so worth it. 

Mardi 18:12

It was Lucas’ first therapy session beyond his diagnosis session, and to say he was nervous was a bit of an understatement. He didn’t know his therapist, she was different from the woman who’d assessed him previously, but she had a kind smile and pulled her hair back in a way that reminded him of his mom. He didn’t know if that made him sad or hopeful. Well, he supposed she was supposed to be the one to help him figure that out, wasn’t she?

She shook his hand as he walked into her office, sitting down on the couch across from her. He fidgeted a bit, not knowing how to sit. Was this formal, or casual? Was he supposed to lay on the couch like they always did in the movies? 

“I’m Dr. Rowe, but you may call me Angelique, if that makes you more comfortable. In my experience, most of the people I treat prefer us to address one another on a first name basis, but I’ll do whatever suits you,” she said, voice kind. She looked younger than he’d expected her to be, but looks could be deceiving and he wasn’t stupid enough to ask. 

“Um, first names are fine, yeah,” he agreed. Dr. Rowe seemed to formal for what they were going to be doing, even if it was his first instinct to refuse the familiarity. “I’m Lucas,” he supplied, even though she probably already knew that. She probably already knew more about him than he did. 

“Lucas,” she confirmed anyways, giving him another warm smile. He couldn’t tell if that was her natural reaction or if she was just trying to be extra welcoming. Whatever the case, he didn’t mind it, and he could already feel himself becoming a bit more at ease.

She shuffled the few papers she was holding, turning more professional. “I have your diagnosis reports with me here, but that’s not what I want to talk with you about today, ok?”

“Ok?” Lucas put his hands under his legs, definitely not to keep them from shaking. 

“Just… tell me about you. I don’t want to know you through what various files and diagnoses tell me, that’s not going to help either of us. I want to know you. Who is Lucas, really?” she prompted.

That was the question of a lifetime, wasn’t it? “Well,” he began, “I’m… struggling. I have been for so long I forgot what it’s like to not live every day in some sort of pain. It’s not that I didn’t want to get better, it’s more that I didn’t think there was any way of getting better. I didn’t know that was an option.”

“But you do now?” she asked.

He smiled involuntarily. “Yeah. I do. Someone in my life recently has helped me realize I’m worth more than I ever thought. I’m not really sure if I believe him all the time, but I think the same of him, so I get where he’s coming from and I try to listen.”

“What is your relationship to this person?” she continued, listening intently as ever. He already liked this session better than the one he’d had previously.

“He’s my boyfriend,” Lucas said, ducking his head. He knew for a fact he had when Yann had dubbed his ‘sappy Eliott face’ on right now and he didn’t want to be too much of a lovesick disaster right off the bat. “Eliott.”

“How did you two meet?”

He almost snorted aloud. She definitely wasn’t going to have been expecting what he was about to tell her. “We were best friends growing up,” he began, because it was as good a place as any to start. “We both go to school at the Paris Opera Ballet School, which you obviously know, at least on my behalf, but yeah. We kind of, um, grew apart for a few years, but we became friends again this year, and then something more.”

Angelique considered this, and she looked like she wanted to ask more about it. He figured she would. There was too much to cover in a single session, though, and the last thing he wanted was for her to come to come sort of conclusion that he and Eliott weren’t good together. Because if anything was true, it was that they truly did belong together. 

“He’s helped me a lot, he’s the only one who really saw what was going on and wouldn’t let me talk my way out of it,” he said.

“Do you do that a lot?” she asked, “Talk your way out of things?”

He nodded. “Well, yes and no. Most times I just don’t talk about it at all, or get super defensive.”

She looked at him curiously. “You seem rather open with me?”

Yeah, he was kind of confused by it too. He shrugged. “I guess so many people know about the deepest darkest parts of me now that I don’t see the point in hiding it.”

She laughed. “That’s a start.”

“I guess,” he agreed, smiling minutely. “Is there, um, anything I should be talking about in particular?”

Angelique shook her head. “These sessions are more or less dictated by you. I’ll give my input, and I’ll lead you in discussions, but I don’t ever want to monopolize the conversation. This is about you and your growth most of all, and we’ll get there however you’re most comfortable.”

“And if I don’t know?” he asked.

She smiled, but it wasn’t a smile borne from joy, nor from sadness. It was a smile of understanding. “That’s ok too.”

He appreciated her flexibility, it did in fact make him feel better about being there, but he also wanted some sort of structure. Should he jump in with the capital T trauma right away, or was that something to be saved for later on when they knew each other a little better? Then again, she already knew quite a bit about him didn’t she? Even the things unwritten in his diagnoses were written in the way he sat or his vocal inflections. She could see the bags under his eyes or the light inside them, and she could see that he wrung his hands together when he didn’t know what to say or that those very same hands were made to hold the hands of another. Someone she could probably see was always on his mind, even in the quietest moments. 

“I have a show starting this weekend,” he said instead, the only thing he could think to say. 

“In the ballet?” she clarified, and he grinned, finding his footing. He could talk about ballet for hours and never tire of it. 

“Yeah, it’s my final year of school, and every group of terminale students puts on a ballet production in the winter for the holidays, so this year we’re doing Swan Lake,” he explained.

She nodded along like she understood so far, which was promising. “And Swan Lake, is that one you’ve heard of? I apologize, I don’t know much about ballet.”

Lucas laughed, mostly to himself. It was crazy how those two words could mean so little to someone who was completely outside of the ballet world. “It’s been my favorite show since I was a kid. Prince Siegfried, the lead male role, has always been my dream role.”

“Is that who you’ll be playing, then?” she asked. 

“That’s kind of a long story,” he admitted, “But yes, in a way. I’ll be alternating the role with Eliott. The show runs for two weekends, so he gets the Saturday matinee and the Sunday matinee, I get Friday evening and Saturday evening, and then next weekend we switch. Otherwise I’m just in the corps, which is sort of like the ensemble.”

She nodded. “And Eliott… is this the same Eliott…?”

She didn’t finish the thought fully, but he understood well enough. Who was Eliott? The man of his dreams, and so much more. “Yeah, this Eliott is my boyfriend.”

She blinked, sitting up a bit straighter. “I see.”

“When I said it was a long story, I really meant it,” he laughed nervously.

“Do you want to talk about it all now?” she asked, giving him the option to take things slowly, and he decided that was what he needed at the moment, especially with the show so close. He could go deep into his psyche once the show was over. 

“Actually can I just talk a bit about ballet, for now?” he asked. 

Angelique nodded graciously. “Of course. We’ll move at whatever pace you’re comfortable with.”

“Ok,” he agreed readily, deciding what he wanted to do with the remaining time of their session. To his surprise, it was almost halfway through already. He was certain that not every session would fly by as quickly, but it was nice that this first one hadn’t been excruciating and uncomfortable.

“So,” he began again, and shared his passion for dance with Angelique, sparing no details of how he felt and what ballet did for him and his emotions. Being a dancer was where all the troubles and pain came about, but the act of dancing itself was ethereal. Nothing else mattered when he was dancing. Sure he might mess up some steps here and there or get tired after a while, but those things never bothered him in the moment. In the moment it was just Lucas in his purest form, and that was the sort of feeling he wanted to be able to find away from the stage or the studio. 

When he spoke, he was worried Angelique wouldn’t understand, but he could see in her eyes that she did. She may not know anything about the finer details of which he spoke, but the overall feelings were universal, and as long as they both knew that Lucas could see their sessions being really good for him. He hoped they would be, at least. 

It was a big, scary step to take to even go there in the first place, but he was proud of himself for doing so. Lucas from months or even weeks ago probably never would have predicted this. But he was Lucas Lallemant 2.0 now, and he’d found some love for himself that he was determined not to lose again for as long as he could. And if he ever did lose it again, he wanted to know how to find his way back, and being there with Angelique seemed like a great place to start.  

Mercredi 9:39

It was the third day of dress rehearsals and Lucas was finally able to practice in his properly fitted costumes. He’d felt a twinge of guilt on Monday when he’d tried on the costumes made for him and realized they were at least a few sizes too big. He hadn’t really thought that was possible, but the measurements had been taken right after casting, and though no one had said anything about how much weight he’d lost in the meantime, the proof was in the outfitting.

It was a wonder to him how he hadn’t seen it, but then again he really hadn’t wanted to, and his brain liked to trick him into believing or disbelieving things more often than not. His ribs protruded too far and his collarbone was too defined and his jawline wasn’t sharp in the right kind of way, but he promised himself he would get back on track and try to fix the damage he’d wrought on his body for real. Sooner than later.  

Lucas could see in Eliott’s eyes that he knew why Lucas had been quieter than normal while getting dressed, lost in his own head. He didn’t really want to talk about it, partially because he was ashamed and partially because he didn’t even know what he would say. Being thinner had never really been his objective, he’d always been fit from rigorous dance training, but there had always been that voice in the back of his mind telling him what a real ballet dancer looked like and how he needed to do everything in his power to be that person so no one would be able to overlook him ever again.

Yet in doing so he’d somehow allowed himself to waste away to someone small and fragile. He didn’t want to be fragile, he wanted to wear his costumes with pride and show the world that Lucas Lallemant wasn’t broken. The people he loved already knew it, and a part of him did realize that it shouldn’t matter if the whole world knew as long as the people he cared about did, but Lucas had always wanted more, flawed as that logic might have been.

Complicated emotions aside, it did fill Lucas with a bit of pride to be practicing the role of the Prince in full costume. Another thing he could see in Eliott’s eyes was how much he wanted to see Lucas outside of that costume, or maybe even have his way with him in it, and that was not very conducive to the fact that he was wearing tights.

Funny how he’d have to revert to all his old ignoring Eliott tactics for an entirely different reason. Thankfully, he was quite busy, as he was rehearsing for the Prince that day. When he’d been informed that he’d be the Prince in the first show instead of Eliott he’d gone from shock, to panic, to unease, to cautious acceptance. Eliott said he didn’t care, that he was happy to have a chance to dance the role at all, but Lucas knew it made Eliott a little upset that Lucas got to open and close their show in the lead role. He would have felt the same, but probably would have been more vocal about it.

Manon looked beautiful, of course. At the moment she was dressed in her Odile costume, the darkness of the tutu standing out starkly against her pale skin. No one could say she didn’t look striking up there on the stage, even during a simple dress rehearsal. Imane would have looked just as striking, and Lucas made sure to let her know that even if she pretended she didn’t want to hear it. 

Lucas risked a glance at Eliott as Manon practiced her fouettes, mind trailing back to the weekend, knowing before their eyes even met that Eliott was thinking of the same thing. 

You did them better, Eliott mouthed across the room, nodding to Manon.

He most absolutely did not, but he appreciated the sentiment. It must have shown on his face, all sappy and soft, because behind Eliott Yann mimed puking and Lucas had to take a momentary glance away from the man of his dreams to glare at this best friend. Eliott’s brows furrowed, turning and laughing in a small inaudible breath when he realized Yann was beside him. Lucas briefly wondered if he could (or should) start inviting Eliott to hang out with him and Arthur sometimes. He thought he might like that, and he thought Eliott might too. 

“Lallemant, to the stage please,” the director called out, voice reeking of displeasure, but for once Lucas didn’t give a shit. After the show his interactions with the director would likely be kept to a minimum, so long as he didn’t fuck up like he had this term, and then he’d be gone and the director would only be a blip on the tapestry of his life. One that, with effort, could someday be stitched over. 

Nevertheless, he did go to the stage, because no matter how shitty the director was it was like he’d explained to Angelique the day before; ballet meant too much to him to give into all the bad things. Maybe that was an unhealthy way to think too, but he could cross that bridge some other time. The same thoughts that had been plaguing him plagued him once more, his career and what it would end up being flitting in and out of the center of his thoughts.he closed his eyes briefly, brushing it all aside. For now, he was choosing to let himself enjoy this experience as it came and not dwell on the things he might have dwelled on a few weeks prior. 

Lucas took Manon’s hand to practice one of their duets, and the soft smile that graced her face as he did so perfectly encapsulated how he felt under the lights of the stage, dressed in his costume, knowing that Eliott was probably watching him with pride. The last time he’d been on the stage with only one other person he and Eliott had been alone, wondering if their futures were about to slip through their fingers and if this was the last stage they’d ever dance on. 

Manon and Lucas danced together seamlessly, a bond forged in what may as well have been blood, as she was one of the closest things he’d ever had to a sister, shared experiences and emotional support bringing them together in a way that impacted their dancing in the subtlest of ways. It was trust in its purest form, and it worked for the stage and the show in ways neither of them probably would have imagined when they’d been partnered up a year beforehand. Neither Lucas nor Manon had ever really been the trusting sort, but once someone earned that trust they’d go to the ends of the earth for them.

Lucas was still getting used to the idea that someone might actually go to the ends of the earth for him, that many people would if given the chance. The funny thing was, Lucas had never considered whether or not the ends of the earth even existed, he’d simply been certain everything in life had a definitive starting and ending point and that nothing in the middle really mattered much at all. 

But on that stage, taking Manon by the hand, locking eyes with Eliott in the wings, he could see that everything in between mattered most of all. What was a beginning without something to follow, to turn a moment into infinity? And what was an end if not for everything leading up to that point, that one final moment? It was more likely that an end didn’t even exist, that the present was all that really mattered. 

Minute by minute, Lucas and Eliott had promised, and minute by minute it would be until those minutes reached their eternity. 

JEUDI 23:57 

Lucas’ head was on Eliott’s chest but he wasn’t tired. He should have been sleeping, the show was less than twenty four hours away, but he couldn’t bring himself to. At first he dismissed it as nerves, but he truthfully wasn’t that nervous. At least not in a bad way. 

He was thinking, that pesky thing that always seemed to get him into trouble. Not about the show in particular, but a little bit about everything. The same thoughts from earlier in the week had hit him like a ton of bricks earlier that day and now he couldn’t get them out of his mind, no matter how much he tried. It seemed ironic, given how he’d only been thinking about how imperative it was to live in the moment a day ago, that he now was considering the future once more.

The thought that had struck him had come at a brief moment, and surprisingly it hadn’t had anything to do with him at all. Eliott was onstage practicing and the director was looking at him with such distaste that some of his friends had even asked Lucas about it. And yes, Lucas knew that the decision to let them stay had likely not been unanimous, the director leading the opposition, but Eliott had been his star for so long that to see him flip completely only bolstered with the information of Eliott’s mental illness was sickening. It was disheartening and downright cruel to see what a change such a thing could bring, something entirely out of Eliott’s control, simply because the director viewed neurodivergence as lesser than. It wasn’t only him, of course, it would and probably had been already, many people, but it made Lucas think. 

He’d always dreamed of entering the company after completing his training at school, the Paris Opera Ballet was one of, if not the most prestigious ballet in the world, but did he want that if he had a pretty good idea of how he’d be treated? Did he want to put himself into a situation that might derail his healing process? If not, what were his other options? The realization that his future was almost entirely his decision had come without warning and pushed the thoughts into a full on spiral.

“Lu?” Eliott’s sleepy voice interrupted the train of questions pushing their way into his mind. 

Lucas hummed in response, listening to Eliott’s heartbeat. Eliott continued, just as groggily, “I can hear you thinking.”

“Can you?” Lucas teased, half of him willing Eliott to go back to sleep the other half wanting to talk and talk and talk until all the thoughts ran free from his head and he felt like he could breathe peacefully again. 

“Lucas,” Eliott said, sounding more awake now than before, and Lucas sighed. 

“Eliott.”

Eliott shifted so they were lying opposite one another, ignoring Lucas’ small groans at being denied Eliott’s chest as a pillow. “What’s going on?”

Lucas sighed again. “I know we promised minute by minute, and I’m trying, but these thoughts won’t leave my mind and I don’t know what to do about them.”

“What thoughts?” Eliott looked concerned, and Lucas didn’t want him to be.

“I don’t want to be here next year,” he said quietly, realizing how that sounded when Eliott stiffened beside him. He rushed to clarify, “Like, in the Paris Opera Ballet. I don’t want to dance for the Paris Opera Ballet.”

Eliott relaxed slightly, nodding. “Oh. Yeah. Where do you want to be?”

Lucas hadn’t gotten that far yet. “I don’t know. Somewhere I’m not already a pariah.”

“You aren’t a pariah—”

“We both are, Eliott. The director has a say in the company too, and I don’t want to give him the chance to ruin ballet for me more than he’s already tried to,” Lucas pleaded, not really sure why he was pleading. It wasn’t like Eliott wasn’t listening to him, he was. Lucas just felt the need to justify everything to an extreme degree all the time. 

Eliott simply looked at him in one of those ways he always did, one of those ways no one ever had before, and touched his cheek softly. “Hey. Lucas. I understand.”

“Oh.” 

Eliott smiled minutely, thumb brushing Lucas’ cheekbone. “I haven’t really allowed myself to think about it, since my diagnosis, but… I don’t know if I want to be here either.”

“Really?” Lucas blinked in surprise. The way Eliott loved Paris… Lucas had never seen anything like it, so he’d never even considered Eliott might feel the same way he did. 

“It hurts me a bit to even think about,” Eliott admitted, “Because I love Paris more than I can even express, but Paris will always be here.”

“What do you mean?” Lucas asked.

Eliott moved his hand to Lucas’ hair. “I want to experience a bit of the world outside what I’ve always known. I’ll always have Paris, we’ll always have Paris, but it might be fun to see what else the world has in store for us. I’ve always wanted to go to London, or Berlin, or America, I don’t know. I don’t know what I’m saying.”

“Hey,” Lucas said, placing a hand on Eliott’s cheek. “I want that too, I think. I’ve just been scared to admit it to myself. Paris is just a place, when it really comes down to it. I’ve never really had a home until now. My home is with you.”

Eliott blushed, looking a bit flustered even in the dim light and Lucas couldn’t help but smile. “And mine with you,” Eliott said, voice no more than a murmur. 

Lucas turned onto his back and gazed up at the ceiling. Sometimes he forgot whose room they were in at night, but it was usually Eliott’s. Lucas knew that Eliott liked sleeping there better, in the comfort of the drawings and posters he’d hung up on the walls in the bed with the sheets he carefully made every day. Lucas preferred being in there too, it felt warmer than his room, more personal. They were almost through with the term and Lucas had yet to put up any decorations in his own room or make it look like more than a place he slept every once and awhile. Eliott’s hand slipped from his cheek to his waist. 

“What are you thinking about now?” Eliott asked.

“Us, I guess,” Lucas said, gaze still turned upward. 

“What about us? Good things I hope?” Lucas could hear the hint of a smile in Eliott’s voice and he let it wash over him like a warm blanket. 

Lucas folded his hand over the one Eliott circled his waist with. “Of course. I think only the best things of you.”

“You didn’t for quite a while there,” Eliott joked, and Lucas finally turned his head back to look at him.

“No, I didn’t.” He hummed, settling back into Eliott’s side. “Part of me has always been afraid of change, you know? But this year so many things have changed, and I don’t really mind it.”

“No?”

Lucas shook his head. “I mean, for example, I moved out of my dad’s house, which is probably one of the best decisions I’ve ever made, I became closer with Manon than I ever thought I’d be and now I can’t imagine my life without her, I had to face some new realities about myself and my mental and physical health, and I fell in love with you. If you would have told me last year that any of this would be happening, I’m not sure if I would have laughed or fought it with every fiber of my being, but I’m glad I didn’t. I’m glad it all happened.”

“You’re telling me it was never a fantasy of yours to fall in love with your arch nemesis?” Eliott asked, scandalized. 

Lucas laughed louder than he meant to, thinking about Yann talking about enemies to lovers fanfiction and whatnot. “Was it yours?”

“Oh, absolutely,” Eliott agreed right away. “I thrive off of sexual tension concealed by a layer of hate. That’s the only reason I let you hate me, of course, so that one day you could push me into a fountain, I could pull you in after me, and our story would reach its peak.” 

“Psssh, that is so not the peak of our story,” Lucas shot back. 

Eliott raised an eyebrow at him. “No?”

“No! Our peak hasn’t happened yet. If we’re lucky, it never will.” Lucas began to draw a graph with his hands, hoping Eliott was following along. “It’s like one of those graphs for exponential growth, you know? The curve keeps going up with no end.”

“You lost me,” Eliott said apologetically, and Lucas just laughed.

“I forgot math and science aren’t your subjects.”

Eliott scrunched his nose, nudging Lucas a bit. “No need to rub it in smarty pants.”

Lucas nudged him back, taking the time to meet him halfway for a soft, searing kiss. “All I’m saying is that I love you exponentially. My love for you grows each day with no intention of ever stopping, even when we’re old and grey.”

“Bold of you to assume I’ll ever be old and grey.”

Lucas giggled despite himself, despite the fact that he’d been trying to be serious. “What the fuck does that even mean? Are you a vampire or something?”

“They don’t call me Edward Cullen for no reason,” Eliott said with a slight shrug, and Lucas broke down into giggles again.

“Who calls you Edward Cullen?” he asked between bouts of laughter. 

Eliott started to laugh too, trying to hide it. “No one yet. But they will.”

“You’re such an idiot,” Lucas said, adoration coating every layer of his voice. 

“Ah,” Eliott said, pulling him close. He kissed the tip of Lucas’ nose, then his lips. “But I’m your idiot.”

Lucas blushed bright red, kissing Eliott senseless because he could. “That you are,” he agreed. And it was in that dim, love drunk light that Lucas realized no matter what he decided or what he wanted to do with his life and his career, he could do it. Because he had Eliott, and he could do anything with Eliott by his side. With Eliott the dark wasn’t so dark and the light had never been brighter. 

It was crazy to think that he’d never considered the possibility of another person making him feel that way, like his heart was on fire in the best way possible. Daddy issues aside, love was never something he’d taken for granted, and he had never intended on giving his heart away unless he knew the person on the receiving end deserved it. And that Eliott did, he deserved every bit of love Lucas could offer. 

Internal tumult put to the wayside for the time being, Lucas breathed in and out more steadily once more. His eyelids felt heavier than they had a moment earlier and he leaned into the feeling, aiming to be as well rested as possible for one of the biggest days of his life so far. He wondered, at the end of his life, how this day would rank, if it would rank at all. He couldn’t decide if he hoped it did or hoped it didn’t. There were so many good days to come, there had to be.

Lucas was on the precipice of sleep, brain shutting down more and more with each passing second when Eliott decided to speak again. “And by the way?” Eliott whispered, just as Lucas settled back onto his chest, falling closer to sleep with every passing second, “I love you exponentially as well.”

Lucas fell asleep with a smile on his face.

VENDREDI 18:45

Fifteen minutes.

Fifteen minutes until everything Lucas had worked so hard for was realized. Rehearsals had been hell, even though they had really only been finalizing blocking and lighting, not wanting to tire anyone too much before their big night.

Manon looked to be a vision of calm in her white tutu, makeup done to perfection, probably by Daphné, who held her hand loosely. They’d all just vacated the stage and waited in the wings, smiles full of eagerness and anxiety. Imane in particular refused to talk to anyone, tying and retying her pointe shoes. Lucas felt like his whole body was buzzing with nerves, but there was nothing more to be done. This was it. They’d made it, and now it was time to show everyone what they could do.

He didn’t know whether he felt better or worse about the fact that there was no one in the audience there to cheer him on. On the one hand, he could probably dance better for a crowd of strangers than he could for people he knew, but on the other it would have meant everything to him to see his mother’s face out in the crowd, or even just to know that she was proud of him. He hoped that in another universe she was proud, and that she would greet him after the show with a bouquet of flowers and a hug to last a lifetime. 

Minor costume snafus aside, everything backstage was running well and everyone was where they were supposed to be. Eliott looked like a dream, even dressed for the corps. Lucas hadn’t mentioned anything, but he could see the longing in Eliott’s eyes when he looked at him, longing that couldn’t be attributed to the love they felt for one another. Sure, come Saturday Eliott would have his chance to be in Lucas’ position, but this was supposed to be him, and he wasn’t supposed to have to share the spotlight. 

Basile had been blowing up his, Arthur’s, and Yann’s phones before they’d gotten into preparation mode, so he could only assume that he’d find Basile, Alexia, Alex, and Idriss somewhere in the crowd being the kind of idiots ballet tried to avoid. He loved them for it. 

Arthur came to stand beside Lucas, looking down at him. It wasn’t like Lucas had never seen him wear contacts before, but he was still struck with how different Arthur looked without his glasses. He looked less like a boy, more like someone regal, deserving to be sculpted in marble. He looked like the type of person Lucas could only hope to be someday, even if it was all just a facade. 

“How are you feeling?” Arthur asked. 

Lucas looked out to the stage from the wings, wanting to pinch himself to make sure this was all real. “Ask me again after the show?”

The corner of Arthur’s mouth quirked up. “You’re going to do amazing,” Arthur promised, sounding so sure. 

“Thanks,” Lucas said genuinely, instead of deflecting with a snarky comment like he wanted to. “You too.”

“Pssh, please, with Eliott in the corps no one will look at me twice,” Arthur joked.

Lucas could have joked back, or rolled his eyes, but being where they were, he was feeling a bit sentimental. “They’d be stupid not to,” he said, and Arthur looked surprised.

“I mean it,” he continued, looking Arthur in the eye, “You’re a really amazing dancer. I know you’ve been through a lot, and if I were you I probably would have quit a long time ago, but I can see how much you love it when you allow yourself to. So do that, allow yourself to love it, because this world is a horribly fucked up place but if you can find happiness somewhere along the way you should hold onto it and never let it go.”

Arthur was still looking at him intently, unspeaking. “It’s what I do,” Lucas admitted, “And you know me, I’m no optimist, I don’t believe that everything happens for a reason and that everything we do is all in god’s plan, or whatever, but I do think that we can create new memories to try to escape the bad ones, and that when we love something, it should never be a bad thing.”

“You’re wise now, too, who the hell are you?” Arthur said, looking him up and down, which was about as sentimental as he expected from Arthur. But then, he admitted, “I’m trying. To enjoy it. I want to, because all of you here mean more to me than anyone else in my life, and if anyone deserves one hundred percent of me, it’s you all.”

“Me especially?” Lucas asked, nudging Arthur lightly and earning him a glare. 

“Yes, you especially,” Arthur caved, pointing a finger at him as he did so, “But not because I’m in love with you. Or was in love with you. Fuck if I know anymore. Even platonically, you’re one of the most important people to me, I really mean that.”

Lucas smiled, tears pricking the corners of his eyes. He was determined not to let them fall, even if only because Daphné had done his makeup so well. “You are to me too. And I really mean that.”

“Are the gays being all sappy, is that what I’m witnessing?” Another voice entered their conversation, a voice unmistakably belonging to the third in their three musketeers. Yann slung an arm around both of their shoulders, grinning cheesily. “Because if so, why didn’t you invite me?”

Arthur rolled his eyes, expression tinged with fondness. “I’m bi, asshole.”

“A gay is a gay,” Yann said solemnly, and Lucas resisted the urge to strangle him. 

The three of them stood there for a minute in complete silence, even as the world bustled around them, looking out onto the stage. 

“I can’t believe we’re actually here,” Yann said, all traces of humor gone from his voice. Lucas couldn’t do anything but nod, as if in a daze.

“It’s surreal,” Arthur agreed. 

And then the moment ended, Emma shoving past them to get in the proper place, and Lucas realized their fifteen minutes had run out. Eliott was on the other side of the stage, but they’d already said their break a legs and kissed each other senseless for the night. 

Manon’s fingers ghosted across his and he saw every emotion he was feeling reflected in her expression. He clasped her fingers, squeezing them tightly, and the small amount of tension that had been present left her shoulders, leaving her looking every bit the regal prima ballerina she was destined to be.   

“Are you ready?” someone asked. Lucas didn’t even know if they were talking to him, but as the curtains opened and the lights flooded the stage, he smiled. Eliott’s eye caught his from the wings on the opposite side of the stage, filling him to the brim with warmth. There was no jealousy, no longing, just pure love and pride. The music filled the room and Lucas rolled back his shoulders, wasting only a single moment to mouth I love you across the stage to the boy on the other side. He stepped to the edge of the curtain, awaiting his cue.   

“I am.”

***

The curtains closed, but the image of a whole crowd of people standing and cheering as he bowed in front of them didn’t leave Lucas’ mind, and he hoped it never would. He couldn’t feel a thing, adrenaline too high, everyone around him looked like they were moving in slow motion. 

“How are you feeling?” Arthur’s voice invaded his daze, and Lucas blinked, image of the crowd vanishing from his mind. Ask me after the show, he heard himself saying only hours earlier as Arthur had asked the same question. 

He thought about Manon and how they’d danced as one, a bond unbreakable in every sense of the word. Meeting Eliott’s eye backstage and kissing him during intermission, careful not to mess up their makeup. Sofiane pulling off a showstopping performance no one would ever forget. All the girls sharing the stage looking like they’d been born to dance there together. Julian from the year below holding his own on the stage, wholly out of his depth but handling it all better than anyone could have expected. Yann proving that he wasn’t someone to overlook, Arthur letting himself go and dance the way he’d held back from for so many years. The fact that they got to do this all again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again. 

How was he feeling? Alive, happy, lost, tired, whole, every emotion in between a million times over. He thought of every universe he existed in, and how none of them could possibly compared to this one, in this moment.

Eliott swept him up spinning him around with the widest smile Lucas had ever seen. 

How was he feeling?

“Infinite.”

[tribridkissed]

Everything Afflicting Lil’ Ol’ Me…

Sleep Paralysis:

Starting off with the basics here because this has been what sort of started it all. When I was little, I was super into the whole idea of spirits. I honestly still am for different reasons, but it started when I was young and having sleep problems. The doctors still don’t know why it started, but I’ve always thought I sensed ‘presences’ so I told ghost stories…because I saw ‘ghosts’ in my sleep, some of which were terrifying and would sit on my chest and I’d still feel that feeling when I woke up, so duh it was real.

When I was a teenager, I started getting these hallucinations far more vividly and the doctors started to take it a lot more seriously, especially when I was getting depressed and suicidal on top of it all. Turned out I had ‘Old Hag’s Syndrome’, or ‘Sleep Paralysis’, and there was now a logical explanation for it. Basically my brain wakes up sometimes before my body does, and I’m paralyzed but I can still see the hallucinations. Feeling pinned down and violated is honestly the worst, and it fucks me up for the rest of the day mentally when it happens. It is why I’m against lucid dreaming, and why I vehemently believe in demons and evil spirits even if doctor’s wanna just call it a hallucination induced by stress. Either way, I have insomnia sometimes too and my sleep is all over the place and that never helps one’s body.

Hormone Imbalances

My hormones have probably been all over the place my whole puberty experience? Like, my periods started out being heavy, irregular and painful. I know that’s mostly normal--we women handle cramps like a boss, okay?--but I would have to stay home from school once or twice in a row every time I got my period, because I was curled up in a ball hurling: much like I do now. Going on birth control helped for a while and then started to make it worse, so we took me off of the birth control and my period started to even out and I stopped getting so sick, unless I ovulated from both sides and not just one, which they found out was also happening. Yay for the possibility of twins naturally, but yikes to the extra hormone surges.

Paraxysmol AFib:

I went through a whole stint of my early 20′s having palpitations in my chest. I just attributed it to my anxiety, and to stress because I had just finished a whole High School career of only honor’s classes, and I had switched from Pre-Med to Early Childhood Development, and so even when the doctors from an arrhythmia, I just sort of dismissed it. I didn't have the time, I was working twelve hours days as a nanny, I was doing college, and I didn't have time...and then I had an AFib attack after exercising and ended up having chest pain.

That pain lasted a month and a half without going away or getting any better, I had a bunch of doctors tell me I was being a hypochondriac, and then I got put on a heart monitor. The heart monitor caught not one but two episodes in the span of three weeks, and it was only then that they took me seriously. So even though I was ‘too young’ and ‘healthy’, I ended up becoming a heart patient at the ripe old age of 25, and it has been part of my life ever since. I take medicine daily to keep my heart rate down, because it beats too fast on its own, and I had to cut down on coffee, which...I was a caffeine addict so that was rough, lol. I’ve had to change dosages, which stresses my body out for a week each time that happens, and it has just been who I am now. I have heart patient jewelry and everything, just in case of emergencies.

Cyclic Vomiting Syndrome

So this all brings me to the next big thing: cyclic vomiting syndrome. I have been sick for 6 months now, nauseous basically every day, vomiting stints every once in a while that land me in urgent care to get IV fluids and meds because nothing will stay in my stomach, it all comes up. This started back in August, now known actual cause, and it has been my main affliction these days. I am on antacid medications, my heart medicine still, and anti nausea I have to take every single day. My body is exhausted, and that’s not even the half of it.

The doctors aren’t even fully sure this is what is going on with me, this is just how they are treating me because they can’t find anything. I have had an MRI, CT scans, ultrasounds, blood tests of all sorts (food allergies, diabetes, etc.), and everything says I am healthy. I have had a tumor removed from my esophagus when they did the endoscopy in the beginning, and I had a history of cysts (I’ve had one in my head, in my arm pits, and now one in my right nasal cavity), and I have a second and third tumor growing in my right arm. They aren’t convinced any of this is related, they just know that my period problem from high school is happening again, so they’re convinced it is hormone induced cyclic vomiting syndrome...which has no for sure cause or cure, so, that has been nice, and has triggered my depression, but I’ve been dealing with my depression my entire life.

Depression/Abuse

Since I was a kid, I’ve had a messed up home life. My uncle did some truly horrible things before he ended up eventually in jail for four life sentences, and short story on that because I simply don’t talk about it, is he used to tape my sister and I shut in boxes, and threaten us with his pet snake. He even through a knife at my cousin once, and would put my sister and up on the top shelf of the closet and leave us there.

On top of that, my Dad was never around much, and he left for good when I was 7, the same year that my grandmother died from the chemo for her ovarian cancer. He is a whole other story in itself, but he only added to my abandonment issues when I was 21 and he showed back up ONLY to talk my sister and I out of making him pay off the back child support he owed (it was a whole thing), and having the audacity to say he stayed away because he loved us...but raised our half siblings, so...just. I don’t like talking about him either.

Then I had a mother who was constantly verbally abusing my sister and I--she still does--and calling us fat even when we were skinny. Telling us we wasted our potential, telling us we’re useless, etc., and only recently getting herself the help she needs for her own emotional issues because she too was abused. Our family is filled with abusers, and she’s much better now that we’ve all addressed we have some problems, but dealing with that on top of all the other things that I deal with now, has been rough.

I feel broken. My mother tells me not to say that, but all of my health issues, and my failed past relationships with boys that have thus kept me single the last three years, make me feel that way. I’m a demisexual person who had two boyfriends cheat because they couldn’t wait for me to be ready for sex, and one basically admit after a little while that he just wanted sex and was “putting up with my feelings until then”, and I dunno, I delved farther into writing and honestly, it has been my only constant.

I’ve been writing stories since I was 6, and this is a hobby, yes, but it is also an escape when I’m not working on my stuff to get published (I’ve actually been a published author since 2011). I’m editing my second book right now and it gets priority sometimes when I’m in a funk, but I have been so sick lately because of my stomach, and just so tired and stressed with work really only keeping me on because they can’t fire me when I have medical reasons and doctor’s notes, and I just thought you guys should know.

I try to be on because writing helps me not think about all of my issues, but sometimes I’m so tired, or so sick, that I just can’t do replies. Plus, my arm with the tumors has been hurting more and more lately, and I may have to get them removed, which will mean another two weeks of a sling and pain meds, and crying myself to sleep because recovery from arm surgery hurts.

So if I’m ever slow, something is up. I love being around to write--it’s my safe space--but I’ve been dealing with a lot lately. I really do love and appreciate all of you, and I’m so grateful that you guys are so patient with me. <3

[carlottastudios]

Do you guys remember a long long long ass time ago when I made posts about an original series idea of mine called Dawnlyte? Well, Dawnlyte is not the only original series I'm planning. This one, oh boy, this one is one I'm been INTENSELY planning and putting thought and work into for the past few months. Like Dawnlyte, this is an idea that's been in my mind for years now (not as many as Dawnlyte, but still quite a few), and now I finally feel ready to post something about it. Peoples, I present you my first ever post about Fabler! Unlike Dawnlyte, which is high fantasy like Lord of the Rings or The Dragon Prince, Fabler is an urban fantasy series like Harry Potter, Dresden Files and Spiderwick Chronicles. This series in particular is very much inspired by Harry Potter, but with way less of a focus on school and way more focus on how fun magic can be. Also, whereas Harry Potter has plenty of witches and wizards, Fabler follows a logic much more akin to The Wizard of Oz, because there are plenty of witches and, so far, only 1 wizard. Also, there's quite a bit of mythology showing up in Fabler as well, particularly a certain character whom I've been wanting to write in a sympathetic light for ages now and now I finally can! That's all I'll say for now here, but if you guys have any and all questions about the series, feel free to ask them and I'll try to answer without giving away too many spoilers. Also, I'll try to post more Fabler content in the future that can answer some of those questions (or create more questions). But now getting to these particular posts. Very recently, I've finally been able to establish the very basic plot for the main story of Fabler and, thus, I was able to determine all of the characters who'll come into play. At least, all of the characters who have enough of a role to merit a name. And when I finally got my list of named characters, I decided to do something Ive been longing to do since I discovered @thenamelessdoll​'s crossover To Belong series: make my own Non/Disney Crossover cast for my own story. And so that's what I did here! I got my whole list of named Fabler characters and, after much searching and deliberating, decided on which 2D animated Disney or very-similar-to-Disney character would "play" as them if I were ever to make a Non/Disney Crossover series of videos for Fabler (which I will tell you now I will probably never do as I don't have the right programs for making Non/Disney Crossover edits, not to mention my talents lie more in writing and drawing, not video editing). And now, I think I might as well explain some of the reasons for my casting choices! Why? Because I can and because I am SOOO excited to finally be talking about Fabler!

Kayley as Tarina: This was the first ever casting choice and it was one I've had right from the beginning, pretty much since I came up with Tarina. Tarina is the main character and I kinda based her on Kayley in a few ways. And not just her appearance, I swear. Because yes, Tarina is supposed to look like Kayley in terms of character design. Also, Kayley was one of my favourite characters ever growing up and I believe she deserves more attention. So I'm putting her in the spotlight here by having her play the role of my main girl Tarina! Kida as Kat: Kat was more challenging to cast. I was thinking of having her played by Audrey, since both are pretty tough girls. But Kat's not super rough the way Audrey comes off as being. So I wanted someone a bit more gentle and easily approachable. Oddly, the badass warrior princess who can wield spears and knives kinda fits that more. Also, Kat isn't actually a total tomboy and I felt casting Audrey as her would give off that impression. Also, both Kida and Kat have names that start with K and both of them are lovely ladies with long white hair. So that lines up! Belle as Celeste: Celeste is kind of the opposite of Kat in that you might think at first that she's a total girly girl, but she's not, and the wrong cast choice would've given off that impression. Yes, Celeste is very feminine and beautiful and refined and classy, like Belle. She's also very mature like Belle. Also, she tends to be one of the more responsible people in a group of friends, similar to Hermoine (whose actress also played as Belle in the Live Action Disney version there's another connection). Basically, Belle was my dream choice as the casting choice for Celeste! Mulan as Neva: Mulan was actually my very first choice for Neva, because their stories are actually really similar. Unlike the three previous girls, Neva is not a witch, so when she arrives into the story, she's a complete noob and she's going to need some help before she becomes a badass. Mulan's been there and done that! Also, I just love Mulan as a character and really wanted to include her in my lineup. She also resembles Neva in part because Neva is one of the few girls to have sleek short hair. Also, Mulan's fun personality matches well with my happy darling Neva. Eilonwy as Peah: Peah is one of the younger characters in the story, just as Eilonwy is one of the younger female Disney heroes. Aside from that, both of them have this sort of determined and kind of commanding air to them that only brave little girls can exhibit in their particular style. Both are young, but they're not to be messed with. Also, they're both not really the sort to stand aside while the action is going on. Peah is young, yes, but she's more capable than others expect, and I feel that Eilonwy has the right vibe for that. Jasmine as Ashley: Now this is the tomboy of the group! And I'm having Jasmine play as her instead of someone like Audrey. Why? Well, Jasmine's just way more fiery in my eyes. And "fiery" is what Ashley is. In more ways than one. Also, Jasmine used to be my favourite Disney princess and I still really love her, so I wanted to give her a nice role in my cast. Strangely though, Jasmine and Ashley have very different backstories. Jasmine is a princess while as Ashley is one of the furthest people from princess status as you can get. It's ironic, but oddly, I find it weirdly works. Crysta as Thistlemoth: Now, I haven't actually seen the movie where Crysta is from, but I've seen her in Non/Disney Crossover videos quite a few times. And her design of being a fairy or pixie or whatever is so perfectly similar to Thistlemoth (who is indeed a pixie) that denying this casting choice would've been sheer madness. Of course, by that logic, I probably could've gone with Tinkerbell too, but Tinkerbell's personality is VERY different from sweet, crazy Thistlemoth. Plus, Crysta's more "wild" looks are more in line with what Thistlemoth looks like. Sarah as Bianca: Like with Crysta as Thistlemoth, I haven't seen the movie where Sarah is from. I've only seen Sarah in Non/Disney Crossover videos. In all honesty, I don't have super-good reason for this choice of casting aside from looks. Sarah does look similar to what I want Bianca to look like. Only with a snake tail instead of legs. Yup. That's right. Bianca is a naga. I have nagas in my story. Also, another reason I admit I chose Sarah is because, from the Non/Disney videos I've seen her in, some of her mannerisms are kind of in line with Bianca too. Meg as Lilith: Yes, you read that name right. I have Lilith, the actual first woman and Adam's first wife, in my story. No, she is not the character I've been wanting to write for ages. Anyway, about the casting, Meg's mannerisms and personality are really in line with my version of Lilith. Lilith even has a pretty sad backstory that's sort of similar to Meg's. I won't explain it here because that is spoiler territory. Their looks are rather different though. Lilith's more similar to Jasmine, who was actually cast as Lilith before I realized Meg was a much better fit. Cinderella as Ericaine: You've probably noticed that this is a bit of a last-minute change. At first, Ariel was in the role of Ericaine, much to my reluctance. But, honestly, her personality and looks and mannerisms are really different from Ericaine. So why had I initially considered her? Because I had previously cast Cinderella as someone else. But now, I'm using Cinderella because her looks match up very well with Ericaine, as do her actions, and I like putting her in the spotlight more than Ariel! Ericaine isn't nearly as sweet as Cindy, though. She's more...temperamental. Ariel as Eir: You've probably guessed that I'm not the biggest Ariel fan. I'm not. And I confess I fought tooth and nail to not have to include her in my cast. But, in the end, ya gotta do what you gotta do. At least now, as Eir, she's in a much more suitable role. Eir is funloving and adventurous, much like Ariel, so that lines up great for me to use Ariel as her. There's also a bit of a connection when it comes to a male character that I might explain later, or maybe not. Feel free to ask me about it though. Melody as Raven: I was originally going to have Shanti as Raven, but, seriously, Melody and her story and personality just line up SO MUCH BETTER! If I explain it here, it's going to be spoilers-a-plenty, but I'll just say that when you think about it, it's seriously perfect. Raven is different looks-wise (I'm actually thinking that she's blond instead of...well, raven-haired), but Melody's just got the right attitude and actions for her. As you might've guessed, Raven is another pretty young character. I think she's actually even younger than Peah, but I'll have to check my notes again. Jim as Lucifer: YES! This is the character I've been wanting to write for so long!!! Because the devil has been treated as little more than a scapegoat for millennia and I want to write a story where he's actually a nice, sympathetic guy. Yes, I know the show Lucifer is already doing that, but I want to do it my own way. And Jim was always my first casting choice. Because 1) I'm a huge JimxKayley shipper, 2) Jim was one of my heroes growing up, and 3) the angst-ball teenager who grows into a capable young man is exactly what I need for my version of the devil! Aladdin as Rory: This was one of the easiest cast choices ever. Not because Rory is a street urchin who ends up finding a genie, but because Rory is a sweet fluffy supposed-orphan boy who is a beam of sunshine, yet still has his serious and deep sides. Fits with Aladdin's emotional state in his movies, don't you think? Also, Aladdin looks similar to how I envision Rory. He's admittedly older than what Rory's supposed to be (Rory's supposed to be slightly younger than Tarina), but aside from that, it's a pretty great match! Like I said, Aladdin was my first choice. Milo as Chayce: Chayce is sooooo much grumpier and sassier than Milo, but he is just as awkward and smart. Yes, he's the nerd of the group and I adore him. I mean, I love all my characters, including my grumpy white-lion boy. Yes, I said white lion boy. Chayce is a sphinx, which is a species I'm particularly proud of. As a result, he is way way fluffier than Milo, physically. Milo's way fluffier personality-wise. Milo is the adorkable kind of nerd, while as Chayce is the more smartass kind of nerd. But it's still the best fit I could find for my cast. Taran as Andrew: I feel that Taran doesn't get enough attention, so I'm going to give it to him! Andrew is a character who keeps popping up in Fabler and the more he does, the more I've grown to love him. He actually used to be quite different than what he is now, and I honestly have no clue who I would've used as his non/Disney counterpart had I not changed his character. Now though, Taran's a surprisingly nice fit for my misguided baby Andrew. They both desperately want renown and both suffer from their efforts. Also, they're both young lads with floofy hair! Shang as Mato: Nothing I say will convince you that Shang playing Mato who (spoiler alert) will get with Neva who is being played by Mulan was a happy accident, will it? Because I swear it was! Shang just fits Mato's role nicely! Granted, Mato is not a captain of his group, but he is an experienced member of a fighting organization in Fabler, the warlocks if you must know (feel free to ask me about them), and he does help train Neva as well as protect people like the witches and especially Apus (woops, another spoiler). As for looks...um...I'll have to get back to you on that. Garrett as Liam: This was a surprisingly tough cast choice to make. Despite the number of "prince charming" figures in Disney to choose from, none of them are actually fitting in my opinion for the "prince charming" like character. Because Liam IS based on prince charming! From Cinderella specifically! And yet Cindy's prince Charming was NOT A GOOD FIT! It makes me laugh, it hurts so much! So, why did I go for Garrett? 1) he and his movie don't get enough attention, 2) his looks are a decent fit and 3) his serious nature and the fact that he's a legit warrior fits Liam well. Miguel as Edmund: This was another super-easy cast choice to make. Miguel's features loosely match some of Edmund's, particularly the blond hair. However, it's mostly Miguel's demeanor and mannerisms and energy that fit Edmund to a T. Edmund is just so playful and flamboyant and also a little goofy. All of which describe Miguel, I find. Miguel is also pretty flirty at times throughout his movie. So he's actually more restrained than Edmund, whom I affectionately call the slut or the thot of my cast. Because he totally is! And I love him for it! Prince Phillip as Darius Ray: I did NOT want to cast one of my favourite ever princes as this asshole. Because make no mistake, Darius Ray is an asshole, one who borders on sociopathy. Pretty much the opposite of Phillip, who is a genuinely awesome guy! So why did I make this cast choice?! Well, it was better than the first one I did, as you! Darius used to be played by Peter Pan, but I just COULD NOT follow through with that! Peter is just so precious and he's way too young to play Darius. Phillip has the age going for him, plus some of Phillip's playfulness and body type. Kenai as Apus: This is another looks-based casting choice. I haven't seen Brother Bear in a really long time, but I remember that Kenai's more rash personality is way different than calm and gentle Apus. But Kenai is a very fluffy-looking boy (and I'm not just talking about when he's a bear) and that fluffy is one of Apus's main physical traits. Fitting, since Apus is a yeti. Yes, yetis are a sentient species and they are more humanoid-looking than how they're traditionally depicted. Also, Kenai is mostly not human in his movie, which fits because Apus is a more minor character. Tulio as Mephistopheles: These two have looks that differ quite a bit, but I still wanted Tulio, from the get-go, to be Mephistopheles' Non/Disney counterpart. Because I've seen Tulio depicted as a villain in a few Non/Disney projects at this point and I want to counter that. Because I love Tulio! He's so funny! And Mephistopheles is a funny guy. Admittedly, he's still more cool-headed than Tulio, but he's a huge dork and I love him. Also, a few of Tulio's incredibly funny mannerisms fit well with Meph, particular in his interactions with Lucifer, who is, of course, his boss. Cale as Gabriel: Now isn't this an ironic choice? Cale is a cynical and rebellious character while as the angel Gabriel, in my story, is a stickler to the rules. But he is very jaded when it comes to his "little brother" Lucifer. And Cale, to me, kinda looks like he could be Jim's older brother with whom he doesn't get along. Kinda. But also, Cale has had moments in his movie where he's being more agressive and angry, and that certainly fits how Gabriel acts around Lucifer for most of the story. Also I just like Titan AE, okay? Hercules as Conor: Is it ironic that I'm having Hercules play a character who is a centaur? Because Conor is a centaur and Hercules fought a centaur in his movie? No? Not ironic? Okay. Still, I just thought it was interesting to point out. Another thing to point out is that Hercules has the perfect jock vibe to fit with Conor, who is such a golden boy it's impossible not to roll your eyes at him at least once. But he's not all ego. Conor's actually a nice guy and a good friend, much like how Hercules is a very good boy. Helga as Thelen: Have you ever been in a situation where the perfect cast choice just gift-wraps itself for you? Because that was the case with this choice! I'm just surprised that I didn't think of Helga immediately when I came up with Thelen's character! Their looks match up very well. The only remarkable difference is that Thelen is younger than Helga, or at least she seems younger. But aside from that, their features match great, their intimidating and domineering personalities are a great fit and especially the fact that both are very competent fighters! Odette as Diantha: Odette was my first cast choice for Diantha, but I almost didn't go with her for fear that I might need to use Odette for another role. But luckily, I didn't have to compromise that perfect cast choice! Okay, granted, there's still some differences between these two ladies. Odette, in her movie, has some moments where she's angry, but Diantha is much more so. She's rather strict in a motherly way, but she's also very regal and queen-like, at least it's how I always imagine her. And Odette often has that kind of regal dignity, I find. Sarah as Hiverein: This was honestly a casting choice I hadn't expected to make. Hiverein, in terms of looks, is rather different from Sarah Hawkins. While as Sarah is a normal human woman and looks it, Hiverein is the queen of the fairies, and in looks, she lives up to that. But there is nonetheless a connection in their characters. Both of these ladies are loving mothers, Sarah to Jim and Hiverein to her son Royse. Hiverein is also a queen who isn't afraid to be hands-on when it comes to taking care of her people, which reminds me of Sarah running her inn. Tiana as Greylyn: Personality-wise, Greylyn and Tiana have similarities. Both are extremely hard-working and dedicated to their goals, though these goals are very different. Tiana has personal ambitions of wanting a restaurant while as Greylyn is trying to lead and nurture her coven as well as she possibly can. Yet both women are good at putting a smile on their faces for the people watching them work. They also both deal in food a lot. Their looks are fairly similar as well, though how similar, I'm not sure yet, because I haven't finalized Greylyn's design yet. Asenath as Lillah: Even though she doesn't play a huge role in her movie, Asenath was actually one of my favourite characters as a child, so I was eager to find a place for her in my cast. And I think Lillah is a great fit. Lillah is a very calm character who tends to have a soothing presence whenever she arrives in a scene (kind of funny, given she's a ghost). Asenath, to me, was always very calming, which is partly why I liked her as a kid. Asenath was also a voice of reason in her movie and Lillah definitely acts as that in Fabler. Empress Marie as Norn: Goodness gracious has Norn's cast choice changed! I used to have her played by Tzipporah, but that would be pretty innacurate because of Norn's age. Norn is in her early 60s during the story of Fabler, while as Tzipporah is way younger, despite the fact that she looks similar to Norn. I went with empress Marie instead in hopes of that she would reflect the age a bit better, although I think Marie is older than early 60s. But there are some things Marie has going for her that still liken her to Norn: her grandmotherly kindness and regal presence. Madame Adelaide as Leira: Very similarly to Norn, Leira is in her late 50s-early 60s during Fabler, but my first cast choice for her really didn't reflect that. Her original cast choice was Cinderella, which is why it took me a while to finally cast Cinderella as Ericaine. But now I think that madame Adelaide is a better fit. Not just because of her age though. Madame is extremely caring and doting towards her cats, and Leira is similar towards another character in Fabler. Also, madame is very wealthy and Leira kind of has an equivalent to that in that she's very magically gifted. Esmeralda as Arwa: Esmeralda was my first choice for Arwa, much like Odette was for Diantha and Aladdin was for Rory. Arwa is supposed to look similar to Esmeralda, especially with her brightly-coloured eyes (though Arwa's are yellow instead of green, but you gotta admit that Esmeralda's eyes are a strikingly bright green). Arwa is also incredibly fierce like Esmeralda, and just like Esmeralda seems to be a kind of leader of the gypsies, Arwa is a leader of her pack of werewolves. Both are defiant and utterly badass ladies and, in short, this was a perfect cast match. Anya as the Fabler: Oh goodie, goodie, goodie, the titular fabler cometh at last! But I'm not going to tell you a lot about her! She's an incredibly mysterious and unknown character, which is strangely fitting because Anya's movie is inspired by the mystery of the princess Anastasia. But even putting that aside, Anya is a great cast choice for the Fabler. Their looks line up very well (if not their outfits), their mannerisms and expressions too, and the way the Fabler presents herself to the characters is very fun and sparky in a way very similar to Anya. Juliana as Hera: I know you're thinking. You're thinking "ANOTHER Quest for Camelot character, Carlotta, really?!" YES! Really! I love this movie, okay?! And Juliana does fit reasonably well with how I'm interpreting Hera in Fabler. Juliana is the wife of a knight, and so she seems like a bit of a noblewoman and she carries herself well in that regard. Heck, this woman showed no fear from the movie's villain, Rubert, until he started threatening her daughter. Hera is similar in that she is a total boss! But she's not as helpful to the protagonists as Juliana was in her story. Marina as Jeyne: You wanna know something really ironic? Even though I am including Kayley's canonical mom in the cast, Marina is the one playing Tarina's character's mother. Yes, Jeyne is Tarina's mom and I have Marina in her role. I don't have much reason for this casting choice, except that it's one I've had pretty much from the start of the making of this cast. Also, the fact I'm using such an awesome character as Marina makes me sad that Jeyne doesn't have a bigger role in the main story of Fabler. Because while, yes, she does appear, she doesn't do a whole lot. Eris as Merlina: Eris is not going to be happy that I'm using her, a goddess, to play the role of a mere ghost, isn't she? Too bad! There was no way I wasn't going to include Eris, since she's one of my favourite parts of the movie she's from. She does have quite a few differences from Merlina though. Merlina was once human and her story is way more tragic than Eris's. She is a villain, but she's one of those villains who thinks she's in the right. Not the same as Eris, who knows she's evil and has fun with it. But both ladies are also very manipulative and destructive. John Smith as Royse: I love my character Royse but he was SO DANG DIFFICULT TO CAST! And even now, believe me, it's not a perfect fit. For the longest time, I thought that his Non/Disney counterpart would be Garrett, because of his long hair, serious nature, connection to nature, combative skills and the fact he has a staff for a weapon. Buuuutttt that'd be awkward for me, since Garrett is Kayley's canon love interest, he'd be playing as her father figure. So I went with John Smith because he seems older than Garrett. Even though his personality is very different. John Rolfe as Gawyn: Unlike Royse, Gawyn's cast choice was pretty easy peasy. John Rolfe has some of the looks I'm going for with it comes to Gawyn (even though Gawyn's hair is way curlier) and the same air of dignity. But Gawyn is much more...shall we say, quirky than Gawyn. And he's unashamed of it. So I guess you can say that there's still dignity in that and I agree. But yeah, John Rolfe is more serious than Gawyn and his looks aren't nearly as fantastical. But he was nonetheless the first to come to mind as a Non/Disney counterpart when I came up with Gawyn. Eric as Favian: Like Royse, Favian's cast choice has frequently changed. Partly because every time I changed Royse's cast choice, I wanted his hubby to have a cast choice that I could pair him up with. But now I'm happy I stuck with Eric. Personality, he's rather light-hearted, which is fitting with Favian's demeanor. There's still several changes, of course, like with his looks. Now, I haven't fully decided on Favian's look, but I know that while his dark hair matches Eric, he's certainly not as light-complected as the prince. Kale as Valerik: Derek was at first the one I was going to choose for Valerik. But then I remember Kale and I was like "Carlotta, you crazy! Kale is a WAY better fit!" First, there's looks. Like many of my characters (for now), I don't have a full design for Valerik yet, but it ressembles Kale's the more and more I think about it. Second, Kale seems like a good, calm leader, which Valerik is. Third, Kale seems like he'd be great with kids, and Valerik is a proud papa of a bunch of wee nippers. Not to say Derek doesn't have some of these qualities, but Kale just has more. Dimitri as Robin: Once again, a cast member that I was surprised I didn't think of sooner. I mean, Robin is something of a con man, but has some depths to him that take a while for the other characters to unlock. That's Dimitri in a nutshell, right?! Plus, Dimitri's often whacky expressions or mannerisms suit Robin well. As does Dimitri's slight tendency to be the glutton for punishment in the movie he's from. Moses as Tyrone: Tyrone doesn't look entirely like Moses, but I nonetheless feel that they have a few similarities in appearance. Tyrone is at least a bit paler, being a vampire (one of the few good ones in the Fabler universe, which is why I'm okay having a sweetheart like Moses play him), and the outfit will very much different, of course, but still, the looks are a good base for what I'm hoping for him to look like. Temperament-wise, though, I'll admit Moses isn't my best choice, as Tyrone isn't exactly all that sane when we first meet him in the story. He gets better though. Phoebus as Odin: I'll admit it. Phoebus is quite a bit younger than how Odin is supposed to be portrayed. But, in my defense, Odin is also an immortal god with divine power, so it's not out of the question that he could look rather good for his age. But also, both males are, of course, warriors. Yes, Odin may be more of a trickster and wiseman god, but he's not shy from a fight either. In Fabler, in fact, he does quite a bit of it. Also, Phoebus is capable of being serious, but also really friendly and joking, which is so perfect for how I want my boy Odin! Proteus as Hades: Yes, yes, yes, I know. I know that Disney already gave us Hades. And I do love Disney's Hades. However, I love more-early-source-accurate, good-boy, very-much-not-a-villain-you-fools Hades even more! So, why'd I choose Proteus for this version of Hades? His looks aren't tooooo far from the mark (certainly the long lovely ponytail isn't far), he's got a very good personality to go at least somewhat with Hades and many of his mannerisms fit well. All in all, 10/10 choice for me. Arthur as Baldur: LAST TIME I SWEAR! This is the last time I'm using a Quest for Camelot character, I promise! But yeah, here's the thing: I have NEVER! Not once! Ever seen Arthur used in a Non/Disney project! He wasn't used ONCE, to my knowledge! And, I mean, I can understand why. He really doesn't appear much in the movie. BUT! I'm not letting that stop me here! Arthur here actually does really fit with how I'm interpreting Baldur, AKA God (yes, as in Lucifer's dad), not just in looks, but in mannerisms as well. I'm happy I'm using this underused character! Sinbad as Syrus: You know something kind of ironic? Sinbad is normally portrayed, in Non/Disney, as Jim's father, or sometimes older brother (lookin at you TB). But I have seen him used as Kayley's father too and, honestly, I really like that as well. He's got the looks for it and the adventurous spirit. Which brings me to Syrus. His hair colour is admittedly a bit redder than Sinbad's (gotta explain where Tarina got her red hair from) and his eyes are different, but the rest fits neatly into how I envision Tarina's father. And again, I'm now sad he doesn't do more in the story. Dymus as Nightinion: Nightinion, much like Syrus, is another father who's one of the less important named characters. Specifically, he is Ericaine's father. But, nonetheless, I felt he was important enough to include in my cast. And why did I go with Dymas? Well, first off, he's a king. But there are, admittedly, quite a few Non/Disney kings. So why Dymas in particular? Well, something about him makes me feel like he has more strength and command than most Non/Disney kings, yet is still diplomatic and courteous. All of which are what I see in Nightinion. Dean as Natsbane: I love Dean. Really, I do. So I'm really sad for putting him in the role of this jerk. Because, while Natsbane isn't totally evil, he is not a nice guy. But something about Dean's general grumpy and unfriendly exterior and his love of his artwork remind me quite a bit of Natsbane. Though, if a full Non/Disney version of Fabler were to be made, Natsbane wouldn't be quite as...kinda-mad-scientist-wacko that he is in my envisioning. Then again, perhaps that's a good thing. It'd be interesting to see a mad scientist who's not mad as in insane, but mad as in angry. DISCLAIMERS: Fabler (c) me I OWN NONE OF THE SCREENSHOTS I USED TO MAKE THIS POST

[pinkpoundcake]

DESERT DEVIL

CH. 5  FROM THE MEADOW

All Might/ Reader as Female OC

NSFW AU

7K+ Words

Here we go! Finally. I had to pause and do quite a bit of research for this one. I’m pretty happy with the chapter, but I’ll go back and catch some mistakes later! I’ve been coloring in PS and typing  on GoogleDocs all day so my eyes are tired and won’t catch much. We’ll be taking off from here. I’ll warn that there’s no smut in this chapter, but you can anticipate some for the next. It was just out of place, sorry, lmao. 

I’m not sure of the next time I’ll be updating, but you can anticipate sometime next week. Thank you if you stop by! All Chapters are in my desert devil tag. 

I.

“You may not like this, but you all have to understand! It's for the best.”

The crowd erupted into irritated chatter and groans. This was one of those stressful downsides to using your quirk in this way. It would be easier for you to be the conduit for translation, if so many different kinds of minds weren't giving you so much feedback. Speaker, you, all the joined hands in the crowd. All the joined hands in the crowd, you, the speaker. So many different minds you had to help understand.

Your eyebrows tensed hard enough for muscles to spasm beneath your horns. You were bearing a lot of stress, and your main client, the mayor, hadn't picked up on that yet. His little, white paw was still clutched around your first two fingers while you kneeled down on the soap box next to him. Aizawa had taken your other hand, and then his other hand was linked to the next person. Like one big, unhappy pow-wow. Now, the Mayor, he was so eager to console his constituents, you didn't have the heart to tell him his time was almost up.

“How is that any fair?!” Your eyes were clamped closed. You recognized that voice, but you didn't have the head-space to pin a face. High and kind of whiny. That was probably one of the Inn keeper's daughters.

“The raised fee for violating curfew is incentive, my friends! For all of you to reconsider breaking this protective law. Two hours after sundown, we expect everyone to be locked up, or at least within the bounds of town!” Mayor Nezu responded in his usual chipper tone. His beady black eyes drifted over the crowd of grubby, exasperated faces.  

“A majority of these deaths were discovered far out of the edge of town, you see! And by the fees we've collected these long days and nights, some of you have not taken the previous encouragement seriously!” The Mayor spoke more sternly, though he was still smiling. “If you follow the law, you won't have to pay a hundred pieces, and you won't be ripped apart! How lovely is that!”

“So what are y'all gonna do with all of them extra coins, huh?!” You knew who that was without having to open your eyes. It was this young, plucky fella who always loitered outside the general store eyeing women patrons in their nicest dresses on Sundays. The purple gumdrop always liked to inform you that he didn't mind being around too tall fillies like you, and that always made you wonder where in the goddamn his mother and manners were.

“As always,” Mayor Nezu paused “these fees will be added to our tax well for railroad imports and provisions from Tucson. Public works projects, as well, that will improve our water storage for the future. The budget is always available for a gander at City Hall! I might look like a rat, but I'm no thief, ahahahaha!” You would laugh, too, if you could. He was easy to trust, but the Mayor was strange…

“Please, please, any other q-,” the Mayor blinked with surprise as you yanked your hand away and broke the chain. That was all you could handle. You needed a rest if you still had to hold Sheriff Todoroki's hand for the last portion of the itinerary.

Ah...well, alright. They were going to have a brief recess.

II.

The pounding in your head had subsided a portion. You were glad most folks were distracted with chattering amongst themselves in groups while they allowed you to rest up at the stone edge of the empty, town fountain. You were supposed to let Deputy Aizawa know when you were ready to translate again, which should probably be soon. You didn’t know what time it was, but you could feel the sun rising up higher over your head. It was nice for a little while, but now the bright beams were making your horns uncomfortably hot.

Off to your left, you sensed someone’s shadow sweep over. You thought they were someone in a passing group of gossip, but they stepped a little closer and draped something soft over your head. Your eyes ached, but you cracked one open to see who’d come to pester you. You already had an idea of who it was. “I didn’t think the sun was helping.” Yagi stabbed his cane in the dirt, and then sank down next to you. You heard distinct popping from the joints of his knees. He grunted his same, endearing grunt. This was his usual spot, wasn’t it?

“Thank you. It wasn’t.” You muttered. He understood you couldn’t sound as delighted to see him as you wanted. You sighed and brought his yellow shawl up higher to cover up your forehead and a portion of your eyes. It wasn’t medicine, but it felt and smelled nice.

“I don’t have too much time to talk.” “I understand.” Yagi crossed both of his big, rough palms over the handle of his cane, and then rested his chin over his knuckles. He leaned far and set his eyes on wads of familiar and unfamiliar people still discussing the first half of this morning’s meeting.

“Dove,” Yagi didn’t turn his head, but you could feel his eyes roll back in your direction “are you going to be alright?”

“After a few days of rest, I’ll be fine. I promise.” Yagi’s hands were beneath his chin, so you touched and rubbed his side instead to assure him. Maybe this was a little taboo, but no one was paying attention. He was resisting the urge to move closer. You’d never touched him before, not that he could remember. There was a wonderful heat and softness from your fingers that penetrated the thinned fabric of his shirt, and swept each scarred rib. He felt soothed ( oh yes, he was nervous) , but his intention was for him to comfort you, not the other way around.

“Togo.”

You, almost a little too hastily, tugged yourself from Yagi’s side. As if nothing strange had happened, you stood to your feet, and then gave the older fellow his shawl back. You didn’t know when Deputy Aizawa had approached, or how long the sneaky son of a gun had been standing there. By the look on his face, you could tell he had a certain amount of judgement and disbelief for the both of you. He didn’t have any comment, thankfully. Yagi wouldn’t look him in the eye. “I’m ready now.” You cleared your throat. Time to hold Mr. Boss-So-Roki’s hand.

III.

Ah, so you and I aren’t going to see eye to eye, boy?

It was a sick joke from a man who had no real eyes. Yagi had ripped them out from the sockets years prior when his heart was broken, and thirsty for revenge. He didn’t regret it. Men who didn’t respect this precious land didn’t deserve to ever take in its beauty.

“You smell like shit, you old fuck.” Yagi loathed to spit acid like a snake, but he deserved every shred of hate contained in his young body on that day.

The Gambler smelled like what he was made of: dirty money and brimstone and mosquito water.

What a nasty bark, you dog!

You look out of sorts, pup. Could it be that arrow you still have there? Here...let me help you pull that out.  

He had liked where Yagi was. Leg mangled. Curled up on the side of the trail like road kill. The vultures were waiting; circling the sun like the grim reaper spun his scythe. That’s what the boy was after all! An animal pretending to be a righteous man.

“DON’T YOU PUT YOUR FILTHY HANDS ON ME.”

And then Yagi was screaming in agony. The Gambler pulled the arrow out nice’n slow, making sure to twist and turn the carved bone of the head into the most sensitive, spewn places. He didn’t like all the mess on his new, priceless equipment, so he found it proper to smear the blood off on Yagi’s already red, enraged face.

Shut up.

Listen very well, dog. Maybe your body can’t die here, but I hope this lesson breaks your spirit like you broke all of my bones.  In stature, it was certain that The Gambler had never healed right. His body was twisted and gnarled like the lichon.  

Yagi did what he had to do after the whole gruesome ordeal was over. He never, ever wanted to kill another man of his own will after that day.   Uh huh…

So, did his spirit ever heal right?

It hurt his heart to try and answer.

IV.

He hated to dream. They weren’t fair. You were supposed to be able to alter your dreams; be whatever you want and do whatever you want. These were all memories he couldn’t do a thing to change. Perhaps he should have been grateful he woke up still clean, and in his own bed this morning. But at what cost…

He needed to stop thinking about it. Yagi had roped up Bell wrong for the second time since he started packing. He rubbed his mule’s neck and she affectionately bumped him on the shoulder with her nose. He didn’t like bringing her so far out from home, because she was his friend, but he had things he had to do as usual. He was going to meet you after he had his student come to watch his property for the two or three weeks you’d be gone. You needed to arrange your own trustworthy house sitter before you both began your long journey.

Yagi had been worried about you the days after the meeting, more than he should have been worried for himself. There was a lot now to consider. He was well aware that you were both lying to each other by omission. You wanted him to track the Devil. If you hadn’t taken the belt buckle back, he probably would have forgotten not to put it on. He hadn’t told you where you were both going for his part of the deal, either, or why he needed you to read. He had advised you on what to pack, and how long you’d be gone, and you just followed the instruction without question.

Did you really trust him that much? You were both traveling alone. In secret. You were lucky law enforcement only patrolled for law breakers, and didn’t go door to door every night. They couldn’t pay enough for all of that.

When he was finally able to meet you, the crown of the sun was starting to peek over the hard, flat line of the horizon. The sky was split in soft streaks of pink and orange. Pretty. There was no wind for haze. The air was still and cool. If only it could stay like this.

“Are you sure you have everything?” Yagi asked you while fixing the girth that strapped his mule to his small, travel cart. He came up to her mouth and made sure the secures there weren’t too tight. She made a quiet, but shrill sound through her nostrils. “I know you don’t like the bit. Be quiet.” The scolding was affectionate and punctuated with a kiss on her nose.

“Yes, and Kissy’s the same way. I think he tolerates it.” He wasn’t raised for riding, but he handled it well enough. Besides, he was the only horse you had.

You were sure you had all you needed. You had rolled up some provisions and plenty of water into your BaBa’s old saddle bags. You really hoped with your combined items, it was all enough. Traveling made you excited and nervous. You hadn’t been outside of town in years. You both had terrible timing, and would probably be in a heap of trouble for giving no notice of leave when you got back. Still, a potentially dangerous journey. And you’d both be alone.

“They all tolerate a lot.” Yagi shrugged his shoulders and sat up on the seat of his cart. “Let’s get moving, quickly!” He boisterously  thumped his closed fist over his chest since neither of you had a rally drum or trumpet.

You wondered if the Devil would lurk the canyon. The thought of you both running into him in the dead of night, or the beast ravaging your camp made your heart jump up somewhere in your gullet.  Yagi must have understood that risk, and he was still taking you to read whatever it was he wanted you to read. You could in fact translate language if you could touch the surface, but it’d been a long while since you’d done so. Most things of importance were printed in English, and a lot of folks couldn’t read no how, so they didn’t bother you.

“Yagi, do you mind telling me where we’re going?” You asked him after mounting. He took off his big brimmed vaquero hat and flipped it upside down. You could see some of your own wool stuck beneath the cap, but what interested you the most was what was embroidered to the underside: a map of the entire valley. Some parts of the thread were old and dirty, but other portions still retained the vibrancy of being freshly stabbed through. You were a little mystified.

”Up north east.” You expected Yagi to produce a compass, but he didn’t. He knew exactly where to go. He’d never been lost before.

“You’ll see, Dove. I won’t lead you astray.” He made a little beat on his chest again and grinned.

“Well...alright. I’m trusting you, sir.” You squeezed Kissy with your heels.

Yee haw! You were both off.

V.

Yagi was puffing out smoke and steam through his nose at the sight of you. His heart was a rumbling, rolling train and he hadn’t finished pounding in all the tracks.  The sun was setting in the distance. Vibrant hues from that sweet goodbye highlighted every plump curve of your naked body. When you turned in the water’s edge and brought your toned arms up above your head, your outlines rippled and writhed in a fog. You shook out your tail like a tambourine, and glistening droplets whipped around your figure.

His dry tongue lolled from the corner of his mouth. Clamoring on all fours, he was clawing the dirt and sand to make it to your mirage. You smiled at him with all your front teeth, and your pretty eyes, and then beckoned him closer with your long fingers. You were emerging from the pool; prowling to meet him halfway. Everywhere your hands and knees touched turned a luscious green.

Almost there… Come here, Come into me, Yagi.

The sun fully disappeared behind the mountains, and the storm clouds swarmed. He was stabbed with daggers of lightning. His big body and hands were all over your soft, fuzzy hide in a monstrous flash. He was pulling your legs apart because now he was long and strong for you. You clamped his waist, clawed his back, and called him by his real name while he was pumping his piston. With his rain and wind and thunder, and your good green earth, he had you. That's right, with your back down in paradise.

Just like he promised.

VI.

“UGH,” Yagi rubbed the faint cut left behind on his forehead. It stung. He had woke with a jolt and hit the side of the rocky perch he’d chosen for the night. You didn’t have a tent, so he let you have his to yourself. A woman, ugh...ow...needed her privacy. He smeared pebbled and already clotting blood on his sleeve. He hadn’t changed his stance on his own dreams.

He was glad you were paces away. It had to be that way. His excuse this time, was that he needed to be a look out for raiders and bandits. That was one thing, but really, he didn’t know when his body was going to change. Dangerous games. Dangerous thoughts. Dangerous dreams. Yagi glanced down at the personal tent pitched in his trousers. Uh...no, he wouldn’t have wanted you to see him like this.

He’d wait to calm down, water the horse and mule, and then wake you. You’d both been traveling for three days, and you had two days of long, hot, dry, travel left.

VII.

When you both finally made it to your destination, the sun was preparing to rise. Yagi was adamant about wanting to push through the night. You had taken such a long break in the afternoon, that it bled into the evening. You had wanted to go back to sleep so badly. You almost fell off of Kissy’s back twice. Yagi, while flustered and spooked, offered to change his mind on the urgency, but you told him it was alright. You just needed to wake up and put up. You were both on a tight schedule.

The clouds were rolling overhead and you wondered (hoped) that they would block the sun or consider banding together for some traveling rain, but they didn't. The trip had gone relatively pain free, it almost made you paranoid. You had to suffer somewhere, and you hoped the continued drought was it.

“Not too much further,” Yagi pushed up his hat and revealed a smile that gave the rising sun a run for its money. For a man who hadn't been sleeping much, he seemed awfully chipper. Dear lady, you had no idea how full of nostalgia he was. The familiar change in terrain gifted him fond and not so fond memories.

“Is that…” you covered a yawn “is that it?” You squinted through the sleepy tears in the corners of your eyes. In the morning haze, you could pick out blocky structures built into the side of a rock face. At another gander, you noticed some fencing holding in several huddled, sheared sheep. Thatched houses peppered the land on the other side of livestock pens and dry, unharvested crops . It didn’t look like a big, busy town, but it was certainly a settlement. It wasn’t too far off from the murky edges of the Colorado River, and the sight of that provided you even more relief. You didn’t know if you had enough water on hand to make it back to Struggler.

“This is it.” Yagi whipped the reins in his excitement and urged his mule on. She wheezed and groaned with some protest, but picked up her pace. You clicked your tongue and bumped Kissy with your heal so he could match speed. You were both kicking up a trail of dust behind you. Being somewhere new made you nervous, but the energy Yagi radiated made you feel more sure. He had his smile on full beam, belting out something incomprehensible at the top of his lungs with your mounts’ hoof-beats. That almost made you pull your draft to a hard halt. Nothing was wrong. No one was coming after the both of you, and he certainly wasn’t hurt. He was going to see his old friend again.

VIII.

There were plenty of times in your life where you felt a little out of sorts. You didn’t feel awkward exactly, just a touch shy. There was a small crowd gathering around Yagi as some reservation dwellers came to properly greet him, or see what the commotion was about. Some natives looked a little on edge, or as unsure as you did, but then the older fellow Yagi was so focused on, finished greeting the sunrise, and then approached. You figured he was probably somewhat in charge, because everyone politely made way for him, or minded themselves and went back to their early tasks. “Aa,” he was grinning from ear to ear just like Yagi was “how are you, my friend? This is a surprise!”

“I’m...well.” Yagi rubbed his neck, and then removed his hat to return the politeness.

“You made quite some noise on the way here! We were worried about a bandits,” the older man’s eyes were wrinkling around the tanned, weathered corners. He was very tall, though not nearly as tall as Yagi, and wore working clothes like the cowboys who traveled far yonder from Texas. You were amazed at the length of his graying hair. It fell behind him in a long cord, and was wrapped up in a braid with bright, crossing threads. He had a lovely, boxy, woven pattern in his shawl that you couldn’t help but eye up, too. Following the loop of his cover, there was a long scar that crossed his neck, and zig zagged down until it was hidden beneath the collar of his shirt. You knew better than to rubber neck that. Didn’t want to be rude.

You felt him sense your wondering eyes, and take a reserved look at you after allowing Yagi to exchange a bow. You were trying and failing to hide behind your big horse. His friend from another land had no one else for company, just you. His bushy brows rose. You assumed your appearance probably surprised, or tickled him. You were used to that, but he was actually assuming something else.

“Aa, this is your wife, Yagi?”

“No, no!” Yagi awkwardly laughed. “This is…” He trailed, trying to think of something that didn’t sound quite as suspicious. “My friend. I brought her here to translate something, if your clan will allow it. We won’t stay for too long, I promise.”

The fellow’s jaw slackened. He brought his hand to his chin. He looked between Yagi, who was anticipating an answer, and then you who were waiting for the same. You came all this way. You hoped that you wouldn’t get turned away and the journey would be for nothing. Whatever Yagi wanted you to read must have been important, or private, if you had to formally ask permission.

“You want to see the old messages? Don’t you?” The other man hummed.

“Yes, I...think it will help me understand.” Yagi had lowered his voice without meaning to.

“Understand what?” You cleared your throat. They were both looking at each other like there was some kind of secret afoot. If you were translating, you were going to know eventually, right? Yagi’s friend frowned at him. This young woman didn’t know? It wasn’t his place to tell you either. It was his request to offer a yes, or a no. “I’m looking to know a little more about this land’s past,” Yagi dug his cane into sand between the toes of his boots. He leaned on it a little, and then brought his still carted mule in closer with his other hand. “There’s some very old language here that a lot of Mustang’s family can’t completely read anymore. His family has been here for quite some time, many many many years,” he had turned his head in your direction while he dropped you this hint “so I’m hoping to find some warnings or helpful superstitions.”

Ah! Now you understood...sort of.  You wondered what Yagi’s interest in the past was, apart from solving the mystery of the Devil, but you didn’t know him well enough to poke and prod that business just yet. Yet. It did make sense, though. More sense than what you were reading. The Devil roamed this land in particular. Should probably consult who’d been here the longest.

“You’re a scholar, young ma’am?” Mustang asked while directing you both to come into the shade and relieve your mounts. By appearances, he wouldn’t have pegged you for someone familiar with his ancient heritage, but then again, when he’d met Yagi, he was quite skeptical of what a stranger would know, too.

“No, sir, it’s my Gift. I can translate speaking and writing if I touch or focus.” You held up your palm to illustrate. His eyes lit up and he clapped his hands once, then twice.

“You’re both blessed with two gifts, then!” Mustang was smiling again. “If you can understand, we will need to accompany you to record. We would like to remember the past, and hopefully our friend here will find what he’s looking for.” Hearing about your gift looked like it was truly a delight, and that made you feel pretty damn special.

“Oh, of course, I don’t mind. I’d be happy to help as long as I get time to rest.” You were trying to wrap your head around something, but Mustang was ushering you both along to where you and Yagi could set up your tent and tether your animals. He trusted Yagi heavily, so he trusted you, if Yagi also considered you a friend in such a sensitive affair. He was already talking about giving word to his family and friends to prepare a hardy meal for Yagi’s return, and then some other things you didn’t quite catch.

You slipped back into your shy sort of self while the two fellows talked on middle ground. You were unloading some items from the saddle bags, and then in the next moment, Yagi was ushered off somewhere else. You got Kissy and Bell somewhere comfortable and in the shade at a stable near to your allotted portion of the settlement. You were thinking about how...different Yagi seemed here while you were watching from afar. He towered over their hosts, readily available to offer his help, or carry things to and fro, even on his bad leg. He cracked jokes with them, and his smile had yet to really let up. He was louder, more open, though he still minded his manners. You were almost a little envious, but you understood. Yagi and Mustang, and some of his siblings have probably known him for years. You wanted to know him like that, too, but for now, you liked that he called you his friend.

After a while of settling, they were picking out sheep for a meal in the dry wood pen paces over. They did ask you if you minded, which you found a little funny. No one here had an appearance Gift that covered their whole body quite like you, so it was the first thing anyone noticed.

Uh, sheep...lamb. You’d never had it before, and didn’t want to try. So, they offered steer, but you had to decline that, too. It just felt weird. Like unofficial cannibalism even though you only looked like an animal. “My father is a bull, and my mother is an alpaca.” You used your other gift to join hands and inform your hosts before you and Yagi had split.

You got plenty of requests to touch your hair. You were used to that, too. You came out of some of your shyness to allow some touches. It was so white, they said, whiter than bones. And soft without needing to wash it so many times. Did you shear it? Well, of course you did. It grew too fast not to. Do you trade it?  Absolutely, let’s bargain.

You spurred an impromptu trading crowd without meaning to. Everyone watched in wonder as you cut off a cottony wad with your pocket knife, and a new patch of wool readily grew in its place. You had bread, and ground corn, and beads, and one young fellow who was very keen about you staying here with him if you were looking for a partner. You remembered you brought some melons full of seeds along, so you topped off that flurry with a big, beautifully loomed blanket on your arm.

When Yagi found you again, he was trying to hide a laugh behind his hand. There you were at your tent, corralling all of your new treasures and spoils. You were a tradeswoman anywhere, weren’t you?

IX.

“Yagi?” The world was dark and silent. It was hard to sleep while you were so far from your cot back at home. The canvas edges of your borrowed tent quivered with the rustle of the wind. It was kind of cold, so you were glad you had your new blanket, and some of the blankets that Yagi had given you. You did that idiot thing were you didn’t bring your own. You were afraid of losing, or messing one up. Every blanket you had was special. Even your new one.

“Yagi?” You whispered again. You could barely see his dark outline on the other side of the thick fabric. He didn’t snore, so you could never tell when he had gone to sleep.

“Yagi?” You tried one more time. Maybe he was asleep? Better not bother him. But finally he stirred. He rolled over to his other side in the dark, and then poked his head through the opening. He looked exhausted in the eyes, and full by the temporary pudge in his belly. “Are you alright?” Yagi mumbled.

You were okay, just stressed in a certain kinda way. And paranoid. You lied awake with your heart heavy with anxiousness waiting to hear it; the hiss… “I..Would you…” You stammered, heart picking up a beat now that you actually had to ask your question. “Do you think it’d be alright if you were here? If you stayed in here with me?”

Your question woke him. You could see his eyes had brightened. He held that expression while he considered his answer. There were plenty of reasons for him to decline, but oh...you were making that worried little face. He knew you were hoping that he’d say yes, so he did, and dragged the rest of himself inside. He stretched out long legs that barely fit on the inside and rested somewhere on the other side of you.

“Thank you.” You couldn’t ask him to move any closer, though you really, really wanted him to. You wanted his pleasant scent fresh and not just wafting your nose from his blankets. And you wanted him to wrap his arms around you and maybe pat you over the head right between the horns like he did from time to time. Oh good glory, would you listen to yourself? Go the hell to sleep.

X.

Should you be touching this? It felt like you shouldn’t have been touching this. The rock surface Mustang had lead you to on horseback was high up. It took you a quarter hour to climb, and another quarter to catch your breath. Yagi had to climb after you with his head craned to the side so he wouldn’t be looking up your bare legs while your clothes were tied out of the way.You were glad the goat in you didn’t mind, otherwise this traverse would be difficult.

You were expecting writing, but you could read the cluster of rock carvings just fine. You squinted while activating your Gift. Things didn’t come together right away. It’d been so long since you’d used it this way. After another try, you finally started to understand.

A majority of the drawings and glyphs were just entrees. A documentation of the days passed. On this day, the men on horseback arrived. On this day we left to travel elsewhere. On this day the canyon was taken with floods. It wasn’t what Yagi was looking for, but Mustang was recording everything on some dried skin as you moved along.

And then, as the carvings grew older, you read out some stories. You could feel a headache brewing behind your eyes, but by now the intrigue had struck you harder, and you wanted to press on and know more.

The spider woman who taught the weaving. This one was hard to read, it was overlapped with other carvings, but Mustang told you that he was already very familiar with the tale.

The warrior with the heart of a bear. He was drawn robustly with his club leading his people to victory in a battle.

The winding serpent that made the river. It slithered and slunk down the entire length of the race face, splitting into other stories and recordings.

The story of good the meadow where the soil was fair and water plenty.

The Oasis on the other side of the sun, and her warrior protector. To you this one read the same, but it felt important. There was a buzz in your fingertips and the cogwheels in your thick skull got to turning.

You’d stopped relying the info without knowing, too. You had gone silent as the symbols stacked in your mind and made a structured narrative before your eyes. The Oasis’ protector became something beyond being a man, chasing off imps on horseback swinging their knives and  shooting their guns and bringing their greed. The spirit of mother earth entered the crown of his head and made him undying. And when his job was done, and he had to leave to return to the other world, the will of the earth entered the heart of a worthy someone else, and it would be that way for forever and ever.

“Dove?” Yagi touched your shoulder. You grabbed on to him to keep from falling over and hitting your head. You blinked a few times to call yourself back to this realm. Both men were staring at you with concern in their eyes.

“You said you wanted to know something about the land? This,” you let go of the hold on your Gift so you could actually think and respond. “This one talks about the Oasis.”

XI.

“I’m glad that you’re all doing well. Very glad.” The flickering light from the dying fire fluttered over the contours of Yagi’s face. He rubbed the bags beneath his eyes, and then rubbed the skin of his arm. It was faint, but he could feel the itch and tingle; the urge to be his other self. He should have been asleep, but he couldn’t. He had even more to think about now.

“It’s because of you, you know.” Mustang took his seat with the grunt of a grouchy old man, though he held none of that in him. “If you had not come for us, we would have had to leave. We’re always going to be grateful. But now, what about you? You don’t look like you’ve been well, Friend.”

“I haven’t healed.” Yagi thumbed through his book. He’d copied what Mustang had scribbled from your readings in his own personal book; one of the ones he kept hidden beneath his bed. It was all in Japanese, since his English on paper still wasn’t the best. He’d been reading it over and over again since you returned to the settlement. It was too dark to read it now, even with the stars out.

“It doesn’t look like you have. How is your leg? And your chest?” Mustang placed his hand on his belly.

“I need to use a cane most days. Sometimes I spit up blood, but I’m still living, and that’s all I can ask for. I tend to horses’ feet now. I’m no longer in the mines.” Yagi tucked his book away in his shawl.

“Is it…?” Mustang’s eyes hastily darted over to where you were supposedly sleeping. Your eyes were closed, and your full lips gently parted with your gentle breathing. You wrapped yourself up in your new blanket, and the young weaver you bought it from couldn’t have been more flattered by how much you adored it.

“I always thought that you would have your own clan, Tall One. Young women always liked you.” He lifted his arm and flexed it as he reminisced on the old days when they were chasing off blue coats.

Yagi huffed through his nose, and then dryly laughed. “So did I, but time’s gotten away from me.” His eyes fell on you briefly. He was already asking a lot from you. The last thing on his mind was courting (even though it was absolutely one of the first things on his mind). He couldn’t let himself fall prey to whims.

“It’s not too late to not be lonely.” Mustang shook his head. “You might want to, before a younger man with more horses and more silver comes along to bargain for her hand. I can see that you like her. Your eyes are very bad at hiding your spirit.”

Yagi scrunched his nose and screwed up his expression. “I would like to, but I don’t want to hurt her. Mustang...I must tell you something.” He relaxed his face and turned on the log he sat on to properly look his old friend in the eye. There was a heaviness that settled in the pit of his chest.

Mustang held up his hand. “I’ve heard of the Desert Walker from the traders.” His brows were drawn up tight. The bags beneath his eyes were rimmed in red as the fire was on its last log. “The Desert Dweller. Desert Devil. Canyon Demon. Valley Eater. I’ve heard many, many names. We can speak of it, but there’s something else much more important that I must tell you.”

Much more important than his murdering spree?

“Toshinori,” Mustang drew in a breath “I am glad, and grieved that you’re here, because now I must tell you something I know you don’t want to hear.”

“What..what is it?” Yagi’s feet were cold in his boots. Coldness had settled over his forehead and shoulders. The muscles in all of his limbs were crawling and twitching with sheer instinct.

“You know how we’ve struggled here. How we’ve had to fight. How we almost had nothing.” Mustang bit the inside of his cheek. His bottom lip wrinkled and puckered as this news left a foul taste in his mouth and nostrils.  

“Yes, I know.” They’d accepted him. His master had accepted him when he came to this side of the world with nothing but his nose, and the will to work.

“They want to bring the railroad through here. They don’t ask, they just take and assume you’ll show your belly. I smelled something in the air one day, and then a ghost appeared to me early in the morning bring in all of his evil.”

No…

No, it couldn’t be.

“I saw him die, Toshinori. I saw you slay him with my own two eyes, and the eyes I keep behind me.” He touched the closed lids hidden deep beneath his hair with his palm. “But I saw him again, and he made me my family an offer that tempted and troubled me.”

Yagi couldn’t respond if he wanted. His jaw was tensed so tightly that his temple twitched and his teeth ached. All of his tanned knuckles were white.

“He’s like a twisted root. No right arm, and walks with a cane just like you do, friend. He has money like these white men now, they think he’s one of them. He offered my family supplies, and protection if I allowed him to rip this land apart. I refused, and he simply took his leave. I think this troubles me the most.”

You had been awake and listening for a while now. You fought your instinct to adjust your position, but you remained still and kept your breathing slow. You were glad you didn’t snore. That would have been hard to fake. What were they talking about? Or rather, who?

Yagi took deep breaths through his flared nostrils. Just the mention of Him set his blood on fire. His stench wasn’t in the air tonight, but it was burned into his most vivid memories. Dirty money, and brimstone, and worm water, and rotting. A thief, a cheater, a liar, and a gambler. The real demon of the desert had no heart, and no real eyes, and he thought he could own anything like he boasted he could own anything, anyone, and any Gift.

“Perhaps, old friend, there’s still work to be done.”

He still had a promise to keep. To do what this world asks of him in return. And then maybe, just maybe he could keep the promise he made to you.

“I think...I think so.” Yagi rubbed the writhing out of his arms and the prickle from the pores of his scalp. He had to try and hold it in, but he was angry. After all the blood and guts, and the skin of his teeth; putting his body on the line. Adaka’i was still carrying on his business.

And Yagi wondered what business it was. Somewhere in the desert…

XII.

The fire was gone.The world was dark and quiet again on the other side of your closed eyes. There were no hushed voices to listen to, just a bunch of sheep who should have been sleeping, too. So, you crawled back on the inside of Yagi’s tent to dream before you had to head back to Struggler tomorrow. Your head was so heavy and tired. Tired from growing all of that wool, tired from showing off the shapes you could make with your horns, tired from doing all of that reading, tired from doing all of that thinking.

Could you really call this dreaming, though? This was just shameless hoping and wishing. You still wanted Yagi to hold you, and pat your head, and tell you that you were silly. He wasn’t far from where you were, not physically. He came to rest beside you in the tent after Mustang and his little wife had wished him goodnight.

You hoped and wished that he’d bring you up to his chest and let you sleep with your faces close. You hoped and wished that he’d fancy giving you a kiss, too. And you hoped and wished he’d kiss you in places the Devil kissed you. Your body opened your eyes for you before you could get too carried away in that distant land. You were greeted with the dark, and the slow rise and fall of Yagi’s long, bony side.

The Devil...whoever he really was. You wondered if he was looking for you, or if you should even be thinking of him. What were you supposed to think of him? A lover? A monster? A murderer? A demon to sit on your chest? Or a vengeful spirit? You couldn’t have them both, and one stallion was stronger than the other, you knew that for sure. If you were with Yagi, would the Devil finish the job? You just didn’t know. You shouldn’t have been thinking about it now. You were just making your headache worse.

Or maybe you should have. You read for Yagi, sweet, handsome, Yagi, and now it was his part of the bargain.

Without thinking (you were good at that), you pushed yourself up from where you lay and crawled over to Yagi. His breathing changed, so you knew he was awake, but he didn’t move. You were holding your breath as you relocated yourself up against his back. Your cheek pressed against his shoulder. It was kind of hard, like you were expecting, but he was warm and he always smelled crisp. You were almost blue, expecting him to turn over and ask you what you were doing at any moment, but he still didn’t move.

You felt him relax. He was asleep again, and so were you curled up close like a house cat behind him.

[tumblunni]

For the kingdom hearts asks: choose your top 4 questions. 😆

1. Where would have been your home world?

Maybe Halloween Town? Or one of the final fatasy crossover places.

2. What would be your starting keyblade?

I like Fenrir, I think it pulls off the ‘looks like a car key’ thing better than riku’s new keyblade in 3. Like its not just straight up a regular car key with no additional decorations, like how the regular keyblade isnt a regular key with no decorations. Just having some weird patterns and bandages on the thing makes it neater! Also kinda resembles the key to the temple of the ancients from orignal ff7.

Tho if i had to choose between only ones that were already starting keyblades in other games, I’d say i like Aqua’s one the best. Its neat with that weird lazery hollow key shape effect

3. How many allies would you have with you as you travel?

aALL OF THE FREMSDS

4. If in a party, what would be your main role (e.g. tank, healer, synthesizer, etc.)

combination tank/damage dealer. Runs into the front lines with zero strategy except smacking stuff and Protect Friemds

5. What would be your command list if you were a D-Link? Limit to 5 commands!

Oh man I actually dont really know how D-Links work cos BBS is one the games i never finished. But uhh probably defense and counterattack stuff?

6. What would be your fighting style?

oh uhh ok better to explain it here! I’d like to be a tanky punchyness, someone who maybe isnt exactly the strongest but they can just keep attacking and annoying the fuck out of the enemy forever. In a party i’d be based around drawing aggro and protecting my friends from attacks but also maybe have some trickstery counter atatcks that give me potential to deal some damage if i get lucky.

7. What would you prioritize? Power, Magic, or Speed?

LOL i always thought it was weird that the mobile game picked those as the three elements when the main trio of the game is clearly power, magic and DEFENSE. and theres loads of enemies who are defense specialists too! i’d be that!! I wanna just be like the annoying Large Body enemy. Big cuddly person who protect they friends to the point its gamebreaking, lol!

8. What would be your ability as a support medal? BONUS, state if it's a single-target or all-target attack, and your SP cost!

Oh man im not very good at the mobile game lol XD I might say a buff defense or lower enemy attack thing cos just those are most necessary to not die in that damn hard game. or if i could have anything even stuff that isnt already possible in the game, then i’d like to be a counterattack! something like if the enemy has buffed themselves you reverse it into debuffs, or you reflect their whole attack. but itd have to have an element of chance to it so maybe it only works if you sacrifice something else, or just on a random flip a coin thing?

9. If you could be partners with one character in the series, who would it be?

URSULA IS MY FAVOURITE DIDNEY

or from the original characters I WANT VEXEN TO BE MY NEW DAD

10. What KHX/KHUX union would you belong to?

in the game i picked the snake one cos i like snake

ive been playing for ages and i still know nothing about what the damn difference is or what the personalites are of any of the bosses

11. What is your favorite magic spell?

its been ages since i played the original games but i recall that i used thunder a lot cos i am bad at aiming, lol

12. Doublejump or glide?

GLIIIIIIIIIIDE

13. Cure or esuna?

cure lol! status effects dont happen often enough to make esuna a mainstay

14. What would be your dodging move?

the goofy kabuki theater dodge pose Quina does in ff9

15. What would you have forgotten in Castle Oblivion?

Probably some sort of dark shit like “your wish is granted to forget your childhood abuse but youre left not knowing who you are because that stuff shaped you from such a young age that its become an unremoveable part of your identity”

16. Would your nobody be just another creature? Or would they belong to the Organization?

*SLAMS FIST ON THE TABLE* WHY NOT BOTH

seriously im still SO mad that all the sentient nobodies look like boring people instead of cool creatures

CREATURE CREATURE CREATURE

17. What would your costume look like in Halloween Town?

oh does anyone remember that time i drew myself a ghostsona? yeah like that! fancy top hat and coattails spoopy~!

18. What sea-creature would you be in Atlantica?

Maybe that ‘sea bunny’ underwater slug species?

19. If you could have one dream eater with you in  your travels, what would it be?

aaaa i havent played KHDDD yet but all of them look so cute and im excited to meet them and find out my favourites!

20. Would you want to travel with a heartless/nobody/unversed with you as a buddy?

YES. YES. YES.

seriously 90% of all my thoughts and posts on this series are just IMMA LOVV THE DARKNESS I WOULD GIVE MYSELF TO THE DARKNESS INSTANTLY TO HUG THESE BABS

21. What would you do if you had free time in a world and didn't have to fight?

HUG THE HEARTLESS

PLAY MINIGAMES

DRESS UP IN WEIRD KINGDOM HEARTS FASHION

SING KARAOKE WITH URSULA

22. In battle, do you prioritize speed or accuracy?

i have no depth perception lol, no accuracy in this house

23. What would be your command style? (2 max!)

i aint play BBS! i aint know! *le shrug*

24. What would be your keyblade transformation?

I aint play kh3 either!

25. What drive form would you use?

ANTI FORM cos i wanna be a COOL CREATURE seriously man FUCK THE LIGHT GIMME THE DARKNESS THE DARKNESS HAS LIL CUTE EYES

26. What would you mainly use flowmotion for?

I aint play KHDDD and also with my bad accuracy i would primarily use it for falling off buildings

27. Would you rely on cure magic, or items for healing?

when i played i was always more of a magicker healer. i feel like itd be the only spell that my khsona has on a mostly physical attack set

28. What would be your break time move?

*breakdancing softly* i aint play BBS dude, i dont kno dis shit

29. What are you better at? Ice cream beat, rumble racing, or fruitball?

it is amazing how much BBS i have not played

30. Would you know how to pilot a gummi ship?

NO i cant even ride a bike IRL lol

31. Would you use the darkness as a weapon?

YES but also NO i would use the darkness as a hugs i would just befriend a bunch of heartless like the dream eaters and cuddle them til they stop being evil

32. WILDCARD, ask me anything!

UHHHH go ahead guys!

[clown-bait]

Paranormal Journeys (Monster Roommate AU) Pt 9

WOW IM SORRY that took way too long to get out mostly because of work and trips and costume making Ive been so busy I've had barely any time to write. But anyway here it is the big reveal. Hope you enjoy all the violence.

Ch 16 Reunion

Leech continued to sing her song despite the look of annoyance from her captors and the run of her black syrupy blood falling from her nose into her mouth. The taste of it was revolting but she wanted them to know what was to come. They wont even get a chance to float now because there wasn't going to be anything left.

“Will someone please shut her up she's been singing ever since we cut off her finger.” Chris groaned and nosferatu flashed her moonlike eyes in his direction.

“Why don't you step a little closer and try yourself Chris!”

The group turned at Leech’s sudden mood change she seemed less playful and suddenly way more dangerous than her captors originally thought. Chris glared at Danielle who was rubbing Zander’s back as if she had done nothing wrong. The ghost hunter turned away from the scene. He hated this woman more than he disliked the fang filled chatter box bleeding on the wood floor. Leech flashed her teeth at him again and a too wide for comfort grin slowly grew on her face

“Psst let me go and I’ll promise I’ll leave you alive for awhile. Its her I want.”

“Is it me or did she suddenly get way more creepy?” the ghost hunter squinted.

“Well you did cut off her finger dude.” Zander grumbled.

“How long do you think it'll take before that thing shows up?” Rick asked wearily

“Is that a hint of fear I smell Ricky? Don't want that he likes fear.” Leech lolled her head to the side the loss of the ichor from her finger stump starting to make her delirious. Or maybe it was the hunger slowly rising from her belly. Either way her calm antagonistic composure was melting away into something much more dangerous.

“Shut up seriously!” Chris hissed at her as Ricks’ face turned to that of worry.

“But its not Penny you have to worry about, the only way he’ll be tasting you on my tongue after I get out of these chains.” the vampire flicked the long muscle out of her fang filled mouth like a snake dragging it over her lips in mock seduction.

“She’s got a point you cant show any fear.” Danielle said from her seat on a barrel.

“Rick bro you really got to get a hold of yourself that thing is dangerous and we can only stop it if we work together.” Zander placed his hand on his team mates shoulder while Chris glared at the woman behind him.

“He cant help it dude he's only human. Hell even I’ve been freaked out ever since I had that weird dream! And since when are we taking orders from her anyway”

“Oh! I smell a soap opera looks like I'm getting dinner and a show tonight!” Leech smirked and sat up criss-crossed with mock interest.

“Don’t you talk about Danni like that bro!”

“Oh we have nicknames for our one night stands now?”

“Chris what the fuck is your problem with the women I date? Why can’t you just back off dude?”

“Well well you found someones leg to hump Daneille? How interesting!” the vampire mused.

“Shut up Leech”

The nosferatu winked and continued to lazily smile at the group that was quickly coming apart. She could honestly care less about her food’s love triangle unfolding before her. Just as things were starting to heat up a knock came at the door of the barn the group went silent and the vampires long ears twitched upward.

Zander cautiously opened the door while rick picked up an old rifle taking aim just in case. A man stood alone in the snow in the dark winter night. He reeked of the sewer.

————————-

“So you found her what do you plan on doing now”

“Do you really want to ask that Mikey?”

“You-no you can’t!”

“Are you forgetting who I am human?”

“Please let me reason with them at least they’re innocent in this!”

“I’m already allowing you to live sheep boy, they took something from me, they will pay.”

“Just one chance clown please.”

The clowns frowned for a moment then its scowl began to soften into concentration. Mike stared at it as it eerily drooled and clicked low in its throat. Pennywise suddenly smiled and his eyes began to glow. Mike knew it couldn't be trusted it looked too excited, too hungry. it was planning something.

“I will allow you to try.” Penny’s nefarious grin grew. “Yes no harm will come to your fellow humans!” he let out a sickening chuckle towards the end.

“Why do I not believe you”

“Aww whats the matter Mikey? Don't trust your old friend Pennywise? We've been through so much together!”

“Its because of what we've been through I don't trust you.”

The clown let out a musical laugh.

“Try try try sheep boy all I want is to free my mate! Cross my heart and hope to die! Hahahahahahaha!”

“If only you would…” Mike grumbled “Im going to warn them, collect the girl and go.” he said turning his back to the creature for the first time. He could feel its hungry glowing eyes staring him down with pure hate as he walked away from his mortal enemy. Mike could at least try to get everyone out of this alive… even Pennywise much to his own self hatred at the thought. He needed the clown awake and happy and that wasn't going to happen unless they got the girl back. He had little choice but to try to reason with her captors for their own sake maybe if he was fast enough he could save everyone. Even with IT’s reassurance he knew the clown was up to something and mike had a feeling he only had minutes to stop it.

————————-

Leech shifted in her restraints as her captors went to answer the door. If it was penny he was walking into a trap and it was all because of her. She took the opportunity to try to pick the lock on the shackles around her wrists with her claws but gave up when she realized she had no idea what she was doing.

The man at the door continued to beg and plead with the group to leave saying they were all in terrible danger. Leech twisted in her shackles again. Penny was here. She could feel her own skin rubbing raw from the pathetic attempt to escape. The nosferatu shut her eyes and let out a long exhale. Instead choosing to try to determine who the lone stranger was. His voice was quite familiar and his scent was of dust old paper and a faint hint of smoke. The librarian? What was he doing here?

The vampire’s question went unanswered when she heard a click and felt a release of pressure from the taught chain attaching her to the wall and the shackles on her wrists. Her eyes flew open wide and feral and she began to chuckle. her laughter grew louder and louder as she got to her feet and metal crashed to the wood floor. A pair of yellow eyes faded into darkness behind her. Leech’s laughter started to grow manic as she cackled into the ceiling and her claws and fangs grew long and sharp. Mike stepped back in surprise at the sight before him taking note of the faint yellow glow of the two orbs in the darkness next to her. Leech began to full on scream laugh before snapping her head forward and lunging full speed straight at Danielle who was scrambling back behind the barrel she had only moments ago been sitting on.

“SHIT SHIT SHIT SHES LOOSE?! WHO THE FUCK WAS WATCHING HER?” the she-wolf screamed as leech leaped into the rafters above slashing out lanterns and blanketing the room in darkness save for a few flash lights held by Rick and Zander.

“wWhatever you do, DO NOT lose sight of her!”

Rick’s flashlight began to shake as he shined it on Zander who shot him and a terrified looking Chris a puzzled look. Two white gloves came out of the darkness and came to rest on the ghost hunters shoulders.

“Little Zander Mcpherson. My my my its been a looooonngg time hasn't it? Why I remember last we met you were but a little insignificant snack! Had to find something much bigger and much tastier than you.” a sing song voice rang out in the darkness Zander twisted around in the clowns grip to stare at it in both rage and horror.  

“N-no no way bro don't you dare talk about my sister.”

“Tasty tasty little girl she was, you should have seen her face when I took it off.”

The clown chuckled to himself and backed away into the dark his voice becoming more distant

“Why don't I show you! How about a little family reunion!”

A young girl maybe 12 or 13 years old walked out of the dark her face horribly disfigured as if she had been mauled by a mad dog. Bits of flesh hung off her skull and a chunk of her cheek flapped free just below her missing eyes. Zander began to sob.

As the clown created a beautiful distraction a pale grey spindly form dropped from the barn rafters in front of Danielle. Who shined a lantern in the direction of the creature she could just barely make out the claws and long sharp teeth but her eerie reflective eyes lit up in the dim lamplight like a  wild fox in the dark.

Leech began a horrific cackle as she approached her captor stalking towards her theatrically  twitching her claws here and there in restraint.

“Ya wanna know what real torture is like Danielle? Ya wanna know how the professionals do it?”

The werewolf scrambled back with as much strength as she could muster but a taloned foot stabbed into her calf and yanked her back as the nosferatu slammed her claws into the wood floor by her face caging the she wolf in.

“Down below they don't just tear out your guts like savage beasts. Down there they do it my way dog. They go for what hurts. You ever have your nerves severed just so? Your tendons plucked at like guitar strings?” leech cooed at the girl trying to get away but each time she moved the talon in her leg pushed in deeper causing the alpha werewolf to howl in agony. “You know they played stairway to heaven on my right arm while I was down there? I gotta give those boys props they do good work, and after a few days being torn apart and stitched back together I got to try a little myself.” the vampire seemed to be swallowing something back as if teetering on the line of control. A little too far one direction and she’d be sure to fall into total beastial insanity. The other inhabitants in the room seemed to pause their scuffle and listen in on the exchange, even Pennywise cocked an eyebrow in her direction when he heard the cry of pain from the she-wolfs lips. Leech dug her foot talons in once more wiggling them a bit to add extra insult to injury. She caught the she-wolf’s arm and began to gently stretch it out positioning the razor tips her claws over Danielle’s writs pin pricking the skin just so. “First you slice open the skin and peel it back.” the vampire ghosted the long pointed talon of her hand down the werewolf’s forearm. “Then I’d get to play a little tune.” she placed her claws back into position lightly fingering out guitar chords over the sensitive soft under-skin of the girls wrist. Danielle struggled and squirmed earning her a dissatisfied hiss from the creature holding her down. Leech grabbed the wolf’s face and dragged her fangs across the skin of her ear.  “Don't you dare move now unless you want me to do it for real. Oh, and don't. Fucking. Scream.”

As Danielle let out a terrified shriek, Leech screamed back in her face just before something cold and metal pushed against the side of her head and fired. Rick stood shaking holding the old smoking rifle as the vampire dropped limp to the floor with a horrible thud that made Pennywise quickly shift back to his preferred form and roar in agony. His charge ended as soon as it began when his mate began to float up the ichor leaking from her face reversed its direction and a bullet was caught in her fangs. As she drifted upright her head snapped to the side at Rick eyes abnormally wide glowing sickly yellow while her face remained horrible and skeletal. Too many teeth began to split at the wound in her cheek. When she shrieked it was unlike anything anyone had heard before. Her voice sounded like fifty beings at once all screaming over each other and it was very clear that the creature known as Leech was no longer present in the room. She lunged at rick with horrible unpredictable speed latching her long sharp fangs into the man’s neck and began to suck with an unrivaled hunger, the wound in her head slowly closing its self with each greedy gulp.

Pennywise watched with almost amazement as if he had just made a life changing discovery and his mind had been completely blown. mike called out to him from a nearby window breaking the creature from its awestruck state.

“WHAT THE HELL IS HAPPENING CLOWN?” the librarian shouted.

“I-I created something. For the first time.” he stuttered a bit still wide eyed and slightly quiet.

“Her? You created her?!” Mike asked frantically as he turned away from the horrifying scene of people he had just spoken to being ran through a living paper shredder.

“No.” Pennywise replied quietly “Not her…..them.”

“What the hell does that mean?!”

When the clown didn't answer Mike tried another question. “I thought you said no harm will come to them!” he shouted finally getting the clown’s attention.

“No harm will come from me Mikey, Leechie on the other hand isn't part of our little deal.” he grinned as a woman’s horrified screaming was being mixed with the sound of wet tearing and crunching bones.

“You sick bastard both of you!” the librarian turned his back to the window “Is she like you are there more of you?”

“Why are you still here?” the clown growled refusing to answer Mike’s question. Pennywise pushed off the wall and made his way into the bloody massacre picking up the loose chain still attached to the shackle on Leech’s neck. He gave it a harsh yank back as she began to descend upon a mortified sobbing Chris and Leech clattered to the floor backwards in a mess of razor tipped limbs. The vampires claws came up to her neck and scratched frantically at the shackle earning her another hard pull backwards till she was on her knees near the clowns feet. Penny quickly pushed her to the ground roaring so loud his face began to split and the walls creaked from the vibrations. The two began a screaming match of terrifying proportions until the struggling possessed creature below the clown calmed in the shining light now emerging from Pennywise’s throat. His grip on her chain grew slack moving to caress her shoulders and hold her in his arms as the yellow lights in her eyes began to dim. He gently placed a hand on her abdomen while creating a trill like churr in his throat until finally the lights in his mate’s eyes sunk down till nothing was left but dazed glossy blues. Leech mumbled something about kidneys as she slowly came back to reality, a theatrical voice she knew well brought her back to full consciousness.

“Its time to wake up little hunter.” he said as he pushed his nose and lips onto her temples.

“Snuggle muffin?” Leech shut her weary eyes tight and purred as Penny’s own eyes flew open dropping his mate immediately.

“PEACHY! Not in font of the food!” he snarled gesturing to Mike who had braced himself against the window pane both in nausea and laughter.

The vampire grinned wide and raised her eyebrows at him. Penny looked furious.

“Once again I get you out of trouble and this is the thanks I get?” he snarled pulling the chain and bringing the exhausted Leech up to his fangs.

“I got shot in the face and lost a finger for you I think were even.” she grinned at him unable to turn the relentless taunting off.

“Only because you never listen.” the clown grumbled

“Looks like someones a little tense hmmm Ruffle Wuffles?” Leech teased him boop-ing the eldritch horror right on the nose as Penny winced at the pet name.

“I shouldn't have saved you.”

“Like you would have lasted more than a week without me.” the vampire wheezed. Pennywise pulled on her chain again holding her inches away from his face.

“Little brat!” he snarled hot puffs of air washed over Leech’s face.

“Your little brat.” she whispered into his lips as her claws tangled into her clowns hair. Their lips reunited with fresh heated tension the clown letting out a soft groan into her mouth half in annoyance half in secret relief.

“well thats a sound ill never be able to un-hear”

Penny and Leech’s lips separated abruptly and leech glared at the librarian now standing in the doorway trying to light a hanging lantern to survey the damage. He knew the others were dead what he didn't not know was they offending team of ghost hunters were just piles of uneaten shredded flesh laying all around him.

“I wouldn't if I were you Mikey.”

“Unless you can stomach leftover hamburger.” Leech added with a chuckle and turned to her mate “Hey by the way I have like no memory of half that fight what the hells been going on?

“I also demand answers!” Mike yelled as he regained his composure the door slammed behind him locking from the outside. Pennywise placed his confused mate on the ground and a menacing grin grew across his face. “What are you doing let me out we had a deal!” Mike shouted tugging at the door.

“Hush Mikey I’ve changed my mind. Besides the other one got away and its rude to take someones meal before they're finished.” the clown was right Chris was nowhere to be seen even in the darkness of the barn.

“You bastard!” Mike hissed

“Just providing for my family Mikey. What kind of father would I be if I didn't bring my mate fresh meat for our growing brood?” Pennywise grinned beginning to step out of the light when a voice broke his assault. His favorite voice. Only this time he was in deep deep trouble.

“EXCUSE ME WHAT?!”

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

I think someones sleeping on the couch again tonight.

[lumilasi]

So. Originally I meant Adam be my main, but I decided I should go with Azul and Reuben instead, given how many connections they have to the other ocs I and my friend got. They are clearly more of the center of focus.

Also there’s a bio for Azul’s familiar Lasha.

Who is a total hoe. 

At first glance anyway, there’s more to him than that actually.

Anyway, character bio; 

Name: Azul Samaros

He/him

Height: 177 cm

Human mage

Age: 25

Dark Arts master of the Kingdom of Valencia

personality:

Azul is known to be very quiet, only talking when he legit has things to say. He’s also very blunt and honest, and has a dry sense of humor. He is the type to often take matters into his own hands and act before asking for permission. 

He is a highly protective big brother, and while he tends to act like a dick to his lil bro (who acts like a dick back, it’s a bro thing) he loves Reuben dearly and would literally kill anyone who dared to hurt him.

Despite his apparent grumpy nature, Azul is actually far more patient than one would think initially, as it is really hard to make him angry. He can stand his brother’s mishaps and his familiar’s flirty behavior without batting an eyelid for hours. 

Important people:

His brother Reuben: https://lumilasi.tumblr.com/post/174471835666/next-oc-done-this-time-its-azul-feisty-lil-bro

His teacher Lionel: https://lumilasi.tumblr.com/post/174634983311/i-was-supposed-to-finish-him-ages-ago-but-had

Alexander (his king, TBA)

Mellina (His Queen, TBA)

Helias (former ruler, Gwendolyn’s brother): https://lumilasi.tumblr.com/post/174053975541/so-ive-been-busy-with-working-on-designs-for

Gwendolyn (his GF of sorts and also an Empress): https://mad-hatter-rici.tumblr.com/post/174081334714/my-best-pal-since-2010-decided-to-create-a-tumblr

His brother’s Djinn and his familiar’s love interest Athem: https://mad-hatter-rici.tumblr.com/post/174755800804/athem-the-djinn-yeah-so-here-is-another-oc-for-the

Familiar Lasha (more info at the end)

Abilities:

Azul is a dark magic mage so he knows a lot about curses and summoning spells, and can perform those as well, not to mention create enchanted objects or poisons. He can also solidify shadows as a weapon. 

He has the ability to put a sleeping spell on people, this one is sort of his trademark as he uses it a LOT, whenever he wants his bro or Lasha to shut up, or if he needs someone to rest due to their injuries.

He can also command Lasha as he pleases, though mainly uses the snake’s skills for intelligence gathering and occasional massages. He doesn’t want to use Lasha in battles too much both because the snake demon might go a bit far, and because he honestly is concerned the dumbass would hurt himself badly. 

Weaknesses:

His tendency to act before asking for permission can sometimes lead into rather bad results, where he meddles into something he shouldn’t have. 

He is terrible at making friends because most find him highly intimidating. He mainly really chats with his brother casually, or his familiar. Overall, he just has the tendency to come off cold and blunt, which might be learned from the way his teacher acted. His habit of not always getting enough sleep and staying up too much is also learned from Lionel, although in his master’s case it was fine, since as a Chesire, he didn’t need as much sleep as Azul does.

He is a skilled mage, but there are always those who are more skilled, such as his teacher, Lionel, and sometimes Azul overestimates his abilities.

Fun Facts

- Azul could be considered Demisexual, as one really needs to gain his trust before he can actually feel attracted to them - something Gwendolyn managed to do. He doesn’t care too much whom he’s romantically involved with, at least when it comes to gender. His current lover just happens to be a woman. 

- Azul is pretty kinky and aggressive lover, which Gwendolyn actually enjoys a lot given how feisty she is.

- He sometimes contacts his wandering teacher trough Astral plane if there is more serious matter to discuss

- Azul’s most precious possession is a ritual knife he got from Lionel (the one he can use to contact him) his teacher, and he is highly possessive over this item due to the incredible emotional value it holds. He will get pissy if anyone touches it without his permission, and might either stab, curse or just punch them, or otherwise make their day miserable. The only two people who are allowed to touch it are Reuben and Lasha.

- His nicknames for Lasha are Lash, hoe, Slutnoodle and dumbass.(Lasha has a habit of flirting a lot, and before Reuben found Athem, Lasha also slept around quite a bit)

- He calls his brother either Ruby or Reubie (or dumbass number two)

- He himself is nicknamed “the Blue Demon” by the common folk because he tends to terrify them a lot. 

- Azul is one of the very few people Empress Gwendolyn trusts to see the horrid scarring on her back from the demon attack century ago. 

- Azul can go on for days without sleep, though usually someone eventually knocks him out when he starts getting ridiculous with it.

- That claw thing on his finger is something he uses to bleed magic essence from things. it is based on Helias’ feathers that have similar ability.

BG story in a nutshell:

Reuben and Azul were orphaned brothers whose home village was destroyed by a rampaging magical fire, which originated from their lunatic of a father trying to enchant Reuben’s elemental powers with a forbidden ritual, and causing the boy’s power to lash out of control. They ended up in Mirthas where they lived up to their late teens, during which time both were trained in their respective magic skills, Azul being trained by Mirthas’ master exorcist Lionel. After Reuben’s mental state got worse due to the nightmares and guilt over what happened back in their home village, Azul and Lionel decided to erase every bit of memory from Reuben’s mind regarding to the incident, portecting his sanity.

During their time in Mirthas, Azul summoned himself a familiar, who freaked Lionel out at first upon realizing he was the same type of demon as the one who’d attacked their Kingdom years ago. However, upon seeing how well Azul connected with the snake, he allowed the boy to keep it. He also managed to develop a bond with the then reclusive Empress of Mirthas, who’d been keeping herself away from public eye due to heavy emotional scarring and shame. Azul’s honest, no nonsense nature helped to ease the troubled Empress’ mind, and she grew fond of the young mage.

Azul ended up in his current Kingdom of Valencia after taking a trip there with his brother and the Empress, who was requested to aid her old friends with something. The two brothers grew fond of the human kingdom and decided to stay, especially after Reuben went and fell in love with their elder prince.

So that’s all about Azul for now

Here’s bits about Lasha

Age: Unknown, but he says he’s at least a couple centuries old

Height: 185 cm

Length (snake form): about 4-5 meters

Demon Type: 

He’s what they call “Arthan” which refers to members of the lost kingdom of Arthanos who ended up succumbing into their own magic power and turning into demons. Another name - the one primarily used - is Silver Night Beasts as often they have an element of their body that appears like the night sky and glimmers silvery with “stars”

Personality: 

He’s highly flirty, physically affectionate and seductive, coming off as somebody highly confident with their looks and not afraid to use that advantage. Most of the time he acts calm and well-mannered, though he is mischievous too, playing tricks on people (harmless; Azul would get pretty angry if he hurt people without permission) and loves being paid attention to. 

That being said, he genuinely cares for his Master and gets highly testy if someone insults Azul or his brother Reuben. As a snake, he can act almost cutesy and silly. 

When it comes to his master brother’s Djinn - whom he knows personally from the past - Lasha’s behavior can change drastically and reminds more of how he used to be as human; loud, aggressive, blunt and sarcastic. Athem just seems to know exactly how to push his buttons.

The same time it’s pretty obvious to everyone around them that Lasha still loves him and his blunter attitude is born more out of absolute trust towards Athem and lack of need to control himself and portray himself in a certain manner. basically, he acts a bit more natural with Athem.

He can also be extremely childish and playful around his childhood friend/boyfriend in a manner that resembles what he usually does only in his snake form. 

Abilities:

He is IMMENSELY strong physically, able to even damage the most powerful creature types of their world like Nephilins (Gwendolyn and Helias) or White Tigers (Rayna) He can rip humans to shreds with ease, and his claws in human form are so sharp he can cut trough metals and thick rock. 

He has four forms he can shift in between; a full human form with legs, a half-human, half-snake naga form with two variations; a “friendly” one where his human upper body looks like how he normally looks in human form, and a “demonic” look where his face turns more demonic with a snake-like jaw, no eyebrows and his hair turns inverted with colors. This form is also MUCH larger than normal, easily towering over people with being near three meters tall (not including the tail part, simply the human body) Last form is the tiny snake which is weakest, but he prefers it outside battles (or making out) as it conserves energy.

Lasha, like other demons of his kindred, has a curse he can inflict upon others; his is called “Euphoria” where he can inject or blow powerful poison on people that drives them to extreme bloodlust, or uncontrollable mad cackles that won’t stop, or other extreme types of hormonal rush or so, to the point they eventually die from too much stress put upon your body. 

Lasha can traverse trough shadows like most demons and turn invisible, and see into people’s dreams. He also has a mental link with his master, able to communicate with him wordlessly. 

He’s an excellent dancer as well and gives reeeally good massages.

Weaknesses:

Being a bound demon, he is not as powerful as he would be when freed. Like majority of dark beings, light magic is pretty effective against him.

Lasha has a demon-type specific weakness where someone using his original name from his time as a human can basically gain complete control over him, making him lose his autonomy entirely, both body and mind if the name-wielder wishes so. The only being able to override this enslavement is his Deity Belias as he always knows the human identity of his demons. Lucky for Lasha, finding out ones original name isn’t easy.

Unluckily, there is a person in his current life that knows it, though he would never use it against him voluntarily, as he loves Lasha. (Athem)

In his snake form, he is pretty vulnerable and can get badly hurt from just stepping on him. 

His past has left him with traumas, and at times he might wake up in a fit of anxiety where he is unable to speak, nor change his form from whatever it is (snake or humanoid) even if he wanted to. 

Fun facts:

- Lasha is a lil intimidated by huge ass tall people, because Mirthas’ Kingdom Bear shape-shifter guardian Cain accidentally stepped on him once. it hurt, a lot.

- He has a habit of nuzzling Azul’s hair as a form of innocent affection; it’s  a habit he developed during their first year of knowing each other.

- Lasha’s favorite people to flirt with for shits and giggles are Azul and Gwendolyn. His flirting style is very different then though, when compared to the person he actually loves; Lasha can be very well spoken and charming when flirting with peeps he’s not serious about, but with Athem he can be absolutely childish.

- His curse bases on what he felt when he first transformed into a demon; in Lasha’s case he was in the middle of a bloody battle and was enjoying it to a disturbing degree.

- Ironically, he’s actually calmer now as a demon than he was as a human, according to Athem who knew him when he was human

- Lasha’s favorite napping spot in snake form is his master’s shoulders. In human form he sleeps on Azul’s bed as it’s often unoccupied anyway due to Azul’s night-owl habits. He does also like to go and use Athem as a pillow whenever he’s available.

- The ruby pendant he wears in human form is the symbol of his contract with Azul, as it used to belong to Azul originally.

BG story in a nutshell:

Lasha was once a warrior of Arthanos, a lost Kingdom known for its dark magic and powerful warriors. He was one of the “channelers” warriors who could channel their deity’s magic power. Like every Channeler, he was paired with a normal warrior, who happened to be his childhood friend Athem. 

Athem had been in love with him since they were kids, and always tried to reign in Lasha’s violent tendencies, though rarely succeeding in it. In turn, Lasha found him an “annoying nag” or “party popping, straight-laced, goody-two-shoes bore with a stick up his ass, and not the good kind.”

Despite his harsh words, Lasha did actually return the feelings aimed at him, he just didn’t want to admit it openly.

It was Athem who was forced to banish Lasha into the dark realm once he transformed, as Lasha almost killed him. The snake didn’t really recall Athem or any of these events up until he appeared back into his new life as a Djinn.

Sometime during his demon years, Lasha was under another master who treated him horribly, thus resulting into his traumas. 

The reason why he adores his current master so much is because of his past experience, as Azul is actually decent towards him - aside from the name-calling and smacking his head when he misbehaves - which Lasha is really glad about, as part of him still yearns to be treated like a human and not a monster.

Wow.

Lot of stuff here.

I’ll update this later on likely, right now my brain is emptied out of creative juices after typing all that on the fly

Art and characters (C) Me

[changesxnight]

Dallas in Rumble Fish

It was July of 1962. The Rolling Stones had their first debut, the first Walmart opened and Thomas Cruise Mapother IV was born. It was a hot summer day and the fans were whirling, keeping the costumers of Benny's Billiards comfortable. "Rusty-James," Midget Jones walked swiftly into the old restaurant. His mission was to get the news to his friend before reporting to Carlos Rodriguez that Bobby Williams had been killed not even an hour earlier. "Biff Wilcox is lookin' for you, Rusty-James."

"I ain't hidin'," Rusty-James Vincent replied, his focus on the cue ball in front of him.

"Says he's gonna kill you, Rusty-James." Midget knew Rusty-James was a good fighter so, like the rest of RJ's friends, he wasn't concerned. Midget was a precise, honest guy and he knew that even though Rusty-James could take the old cat, he'd need to be prepared. Dallas Winston, who was in the middle of kicking BJ Jackson's ass in their own game of pool, was suddenly interested and listened closer, even though he knew Biff wasn't shit.

"Sayin' ain't doin'," Rusty-James shrugged and missed his shot. "Shit."

"That's tough, Rusty-James." Smokey Bennet picked up a handful of dollar bills they put down as a bet. "Maybe we should go double or nothin' sometime."

Rusty-James knew he was the better pool player and he wanted to fight him, nearly shoving a pool stick into his face. "Sit down."

"You cats are constantly fightin' like typical fuckin' Yahoos."

"Watch the language," Benny warned from behind the counter as he wiped it down.

"Hey, Benny, get me a chocolate milk, will ya?" Rusty-James sat down on a bar stool and instead of calling over his shoulder, he nearly bent over backwards. "What's this Biff doin' about killin' me, anyway?"

"You're supposed to meet him, tonight, under the arches behind the pet store at about," Midget checked his watch, "Ten o'clock."

"He's coming alone then, huh?" Rusty-James asked, taking a sip out of his chocolate milk.

"I wouldn't count on it, man." BJ told him. He knew Biff was a snake, he couldn't be trusted. Midget had shared the news and walked out.

"Well if he's bringing friends, then I'm bringing friends." Rusty-James stated, walking over to his usual table.

"Yeah, but you know how that's gonna turn out, Rusty-James. Everyone will end up getting into it." Steve Hays was always cautious with these things.

"This kid and his fuckin' imagination, man." Dallas remarked. He'd been in gang fights Steve couldn't even dream of. But then again, he was working for Sonny. Dallas kept his mouth shut, not willing to chance the boys finding out about his side job.

Ignoring him, Steve continued, "You bring people, he brings people.."

Rusty-James cut him off. "If you think I'm going to that vacant lot by myself, man, you're fuckin' crazy." Just then, BJ slid into the booth next to Dallas. The two smiled to each other, they couldn't wait for the fight.

"Watch your language over there. Watch it!" Benny hated cuss words since it reminded him of his father. But Benny lived in the Bronx and it was impossible to get away from the foul language. At least in his restaurant, he could warn the young boys.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Smokey yelled at Steve and Steve hid his head, focusing on writing.

"Fuck you, Smokey." Dallas and Rusty-James told him. "Steve goes wherever I go." To Steve, RJ said, "Steve, c'mere. Sit down."

"Dammit, Rusty-James. It's been a long time since we had that kind of trouble." Smokey wasn't wrong. The whole idea of gangs was fading out. Only loyal friends continued to stay in packs, starting fights to make them feel alive.

"Chicken, Smoke?" BJ teased as Dallas and him started making chicken noises.

"Smokey doesn't wanna come, it's okay." RJ said, getting in on the teasing.

"Smokey, we understand." Dallas nodded sarcastically as BJ and RJ shook hands, agreeing to back the other up like had for so many years prior.

"What? You don't wanna come? Fine."

"Rusty-James, you know I'm gonna be there." Smokey always was, even if he didn't want to. "But you know what the Motorcycle Boy said about gang fights." Dallas shot a cold stare at Smoke and it shut him up. They both knew how sensitive Rusty-James was about his deadbeat brother.

Too late. "The Motorcycle Boy hasn't been around in two months. So don't go telling me about that." Rusty-James was angry. If they shut up, he might cool down without exploding.

"What if the Motorcycle Boy comes back?" It was mumbled and quiet, but Rusty-James heard Steve's comment. Dallas glared at the youngest boy but Steve didn't get a clue. "What if your brother came back and found out?" Of course he was writing in his stupid fucking notebook.

Rusty-James slammed his fist on the table. "My brother ain't back, man!" He shouted. "I'm sick of hearing this shit. I don't know when he's coming back, if he's coming back, but if you assholes wanna wait around for the rest of your lives to see what he says, fine." He was staring at Smokey. "Fine, man. But I'm gonna stomp that little shitass tonight and I think I should have a few fucking friends with me." Smokey was trying to talk over him, even though he knew RJ hated that. "Are you even listening to me?"

"We're gonna be there, man. Alright? We're gonna be there." Smokey tried to shake RJ's hand. He ignored it and went to shake Dally's and then BJ's. "But let's just keep it between you two, okay?"

"Right behind you." BJ promised with a smile.

RJ finally shook Smokey's hand and finally heard Benny, who had been calling for him to "get his dirty ass off the table" for the past five minutes. "I'm sorry, Benny. I'm sorry." Benny knew it was bullshit and began to reel in a fish, but it was only a middle finger.

They finished up in the pool hall and began walking down the street. "Man, I love fights. This reminds me of the old days, man, when we used to have rumbles. Heroin ruined the gangs, man."

"It ruined the gangs? It ruined everything!" Dallas corrected him, getting flashbacks of his mother lying dead in the cold apartment.

"I wouldn't know." Smokey said

"No, you wouldn't know, would you? Ask my brother, man. A gang really meant something back then." RJ said, picturing a group of diverse kids standing tall and proud.  

"That gang shit was outta style when you were ten years old." Smokey stated as-a-matter-of-factly. He hated it when RJ talked things he didn't know anything about, especially gangs.

"Bullshit, man. I was fuckin' eleven. I can remember." RJ defended himself. Dallas and BJ were chuckling to themselves, knowing that they were one of the last gangs in town. They were approaching the old Catholic school for girls and Rusty-James and Dallas got distracted by their girlfriends.

That night, Rusty-James was about five minutes late to his own fight. Typical. Dallas, BJ, Midget and Smokey waited behind the pet store for their best friend, getting there ten minutes early. "Where the fuck were you?" Dallas asked, slapping RJ upside the head.

"Rusty-James, we just about gave up on you." Smokey said. He had even less patience than Dallas, and RJ's bullshit always lit the short fuse.

"With Patty." He answered. Smokey rolled his eyes, annoyed. He saw this and told Smoke, "Watch out of I'll take you on for a warmup."

"She gonna clean you up after the fight? Kiss your booboos?" BJ teased but Dallas elbowed him in the gut.

"Who's here, huh? I gotta have as many guys as Biff. This is bullshit." Rusty-James looked over the edge, seeing old buddies and friends before calling out to them, greeting them.

"I thought we were supposed to watch, Rusty-James." Smokey reminded him.

"We are," Dallas told him. "But the kid's an idiot. He'll need us as backup."

"You're not expecting to see Steve here, are you? Why do you put up with that whimp?" Smokey asked, ignoring Dal's cold stare.

"I've known him since kindergarten, alright?"

"You've got a bad habit of getting attached to people, Rusty-James." Leave it to Smoke to point out the obvious.

Rusty-James wasn't having it, he was too hyped up for the fight. "Yup," he agreed without thinking about it. "Let's go." And they slid down the pipe before looking for Biff and his crew.

They were nowhere to be seen and so BJ piped up, "Where's Steve?"

"Maybe he's late." RJ suggested and then a cat meowed. A homeless man coughed. "Looks like we're gonna have to fight ourselves."

"Rusty-James," Steve called out in a whisper-shout. He was terrified but clutched a wooden board, thinking he'd use it to protect himself. RJ laughed when he saw his best friend.

Just then, a train whizzed by and Biff's gang started walking out. "Where at, Rusty-James?" Someone shouted out, the voice coming from the left side of the gang.

"I'm here." Rusty-James looked for his opponent, unable to find him until he popped up outta nowhere.

"Not for long, punk." Biff said. He was doped up. Man, Rusty-James hated fighting druggies. He spit on him, disgusted.

Dallas grabbed Rusty-James by the shoulder. "Don't kill him."

"You can't stop me. I'm gonna kill if I have to." RJ argued, like usual.

"Don't fuckin' kill him, Vincent. I'll help you take care of him, if need be. But don't kill him. He's doped up, you've got the real advantage." Rusty-James wouldn't listen, however, and pulled away from Dallas.

"Take a fuckin' swing at me." He challenged Biff; he was losing vision, everything going red. He was getting angry, the rage consuming him. And then Biff pulled out a knife. "This was supposed to be a fair fight, man!" Rusty-James avoided the knife best he could, kicked him and climbing up pipes. He got ahold of a piece of ply wood and beat the shit outta Biff. Like in most fights, Rusty-James has the upper hand as he threw Biff in through a window and then punched him until he broke his jaw. Rusty-James was so caught up in his anger, he barely noticed his brother pull up on a motorcycle until the Motorcycle Boy said something.

"What is this? Another glorious battle for the kingdom?" The Motorcycle Boy asked, even though he didn't want to know the answer.

"I thought you were gone for good, man." Rusty-James said, looking up at his brother in a daze. Dallas was distracted, too, but his senses were a lot better.

"I thought we had a treaty." The Motorcycle Boy's voice was soft as he reminded his brother of what they had agreed to months prior.

"Look out, Rusty-James!" BJ shouted as Biff raised his switchblade to cut RJ's side. Dallas thought too quickly, however, and kicked Biff in the leg, hard enough to make him fall. Dallas pinned him down with his left foot and stole the knife out of his right hand.

"It was supposed to be a fair fucking fight, you twat." Dallas reminded the cheater before walking up to the Motorcycle Boy.

and that's it because if Dallas was in Rumble Fish, nothing bad ever would've happened and we'd all be happy still today. the end.

[allyinthekeyofx]

Fading Light -part 2- 2/6

PART ONE  -  Chapters 1-6 here

PART TWO  -  Chapter one

PART TWO

CHAPTER TWO

Scully is sleeping. Not dead, not comatose, not even mildly sedated. And aside from the IVs that snake their way in to her pale skin and the steady beep-beep of the monitors beside her bed, I can almost, almost convince myself that she is going to be fine.

Although, in the short term at least her doctors have assured me that she will be fine. She lost a tremendous amount of blood but missed vacogenic shock by a whisker, and will suffer no immediate ill effects except for increased fatigue for a few days as her battered system regains its equilibrium. I found myself staring blankly at the young intern who had been despatched to speak to me out in the corridor where I had sat looking at my feet for what seemed like an eternity. He congratulated me on my fast response to the situation; that even ten minutes more and the outcome might have been very different. I had no idea how to respond to him, still dressed as I was in Scully’s blood which had dried and hardened against my skin. I could smell it. I think I will probably smell it for a very long time to come. Was I supposed to shake his hand?, to thank him for not letting her die?

I didn’t do either of those things. I just clutched Scully’s necklace in my hand and gazed at him numbly from my seated position; hearing his words but hardly daring to believe them.

“She’s okay?” I’d finally managed through lips that seemed to belong to someone else. Lips that only the night before had been playfully kissing a line along the inside of Scully’s arm as she half heartedly attempted to slap me away. She is incredibly ticklish on the underside of her arms. In fact she is incredibly ticklish all over and she giggles when I kiss her like that. So I kiss her like that as often as I can. If you’d told me even six months ago that Scully was a giggler I would have refused to believe it. But to my delight it turns out that my serious, scientifically minded, straight-laced sceptical partner of seven years can be reduced to a giggling, weakened mess with only minimum effort on my part.

The intern touches my shoulder gently. Under normal circumstances I would probably feel a little awkward, but right now I am grateful for the connection of another human being.

“She’s okay” he affirms although he stresses that she is weak and tired and may sleep a lot over the next couple of days.

I’ll take that. God knows I’ll take it. She can sleep till next week if it means she will come back to me. And it seems like this time at least, she will.

“Can I see her? Sit with her?”

The intern hesitates for just a beat and I ready myself to start arguing. The need to see her is like a physical ache inside of me and not for the first time I wonder how it will feel when one day, that ache will go unchecked and unresolved. I think to be honest that my world will simply cease to be; that my heart will stop beating with the pain of it all. Or at least I hope that it happens that way because a life without Scully isn’t a life worth living. I’m not sure I would even want to try.

But as it turns out, I’ve misunderstood the reasons for his reluctance to allow me in to the room.

“I think maybe first Agent Mulder, we should find you a change of clothes. Let you clean up a bit?”

I smell of Scullys blood.

I nod.

“Thank you”

XXXX

I haven’t taken my eyes off her for even a second since I finally made it in here. I settled myself in to the uncomfortable chair that stood like a sentry beside her bed, gently curled my fingers around hers and just watched her sleep. She looks incredibly pale in the diffused light that casts shadows across her face but I find myself heartened that she is sleeping so peacefully. I’m not sure how aware she was of the horror show that unfolded beside that tranquil lake, or how long she stayed conscious before the shock of the sudden and violent blood loss sent her system in to freefall. Certainly she was unconscious by the time we made it back to the car park, a dead boneless weight in my arms as the blood continued to flow and I can’t help but hope that for the most part she remained unaware.

She has moved a couple of times; sighing softly before settling back in to sleep and I don’t really expect her to awaken at all tonight. Even when nurses have crept quietly in to record her vitals, she hasn’t stirred. And while I know that sleep is what she needs right now, on a very basic level, I wish she would open her eyes just for a moment so I can affirm that she is really here. That she is simply sleeping and not somewhere else far away from me.

But for the time being I just watch her. I can never get enough of looking at Scully and if she had known just how much I had enjoyed observing her during those early years in our partnership, she would probably have been horrified.

Before she had come strutting in to my office in her ill fitting off- the- rack suit, all red hair and youthful arrogance I had always considered myself to have a type. All the previous women in my life had been tall, leggy, big breasted control freaks who had been firmly in command of the relationship. Without exception they had all been older than me, without exception they had all been brunettes and without exception they had all treated me with a certain amount of casual disdain. I think I’d have been considered a catch if it weren’t for the Spooky. As it was I was merely a passing fad. To be picked up and thrown away when the novelty began to wear off.

I had expected the pattern to carry on repeating in the same manner until I finally accepted that love, or even a lasting companionship, was not going to feature heavily in my future. I’ve wondered often why I gravitated again and again to these kinds of women, unable to explain it in any real way other than a lingering feeling of unworthiness; that my past had made me somehow lacking and that happiness was for others but never for me.

Scully changed all that. And despite all my best efforts to the contrary I allowed her to get under my skin. This fiery redhead with a temper to match who never gave me an inch, a constant source of irritation who tested the boundaries in every way possible during the early months of our partnership with her infuriating knack of finding a rational explanation for everything. I mean hell, how do you hope to argue with a woman who has enough arrogance and self-belief to re-write fucking Einstein? She tested me every single day as she steadfastly refused to blindly believe; becoming the perfect juxtaposition; the Yin to my Yang. And with it she brought something to me I’d thought I’d lost forever – a feeling of worth. That maybe, just maybe, there was something within me that was actually worth fighting for.

And even back then I loved her; I loved her with an intensity that excluded all rational thought. From almost the very beginning I loved her. I loved her for believing in me; for refusing to be played by those who had sent her to me and for never allowing them to break her spirit. And almost immediately I realised I wanted her to stay with me; that to lose her, even so early on was unthinkable.

I once told her that she made me whole; that she had saved me; desperate words that I could barely bring myself to admit to her, but I had admitted them. To prevent her from walking away I had allowed at least some of my barriers to fall away and she had rewarded me by remaining by my side. I often wonder now just how different her life would be if I’d simply let her leave; done the right thing for her even if not for me. But for now I swallow the thought and go back to watching her sleep.

Only she isn’t sleeping.

She is observing me through eyes that are heavy-lidded and dull with a combination of fatigue and the morphine drip that keeps her headache at bay. But despite this, she has never looked more beautiful to me; because she is alive and she is still with me.

“I guess I missed the Birthday cake huh?” her voice is raspy and sweet and just slightly teasing, belying as always the gravity of her situation. And as always I play along, leaning forwards to drop a kiss on her forehead which I’m relieved to find is cool beneath my lips before inclining my face to whisper in her ear.

“Yeah. It had candles and everything.”

“How many candles?”

I smile.

“Lots of candles Scully. Lots and lots of candles.”

She leans in to my face and I can smell the jasmine scent of the shampoo she favours. Her skin though smells like hospitals; a combination of starch, antiseptic and a peculiar slightly unpleasant scent that reminds me of illness.

“Mulder?” she murmurs “Have you ever thought about becoming a nurse?”

“Only in my wildest dreams Scully. Why?”

She sighs, fighting sleep as she fights everything else in her life.

“You look.....mmmmm.....the scrubs. Look good...”

Her voice is slightly slurred and I graze her temple with my lips.

“I’ll wear them for you when we get home. Now go back to sleep.”

And for once she does as I say, closing her eyes even as she reaches out to me, an unspoken request that I immediately understand. I perch awkwardly on the bed and enfold her in my arms, resting my chin lightly on the crown of her head, listening to the sound of her breathing become sweet and even as she falls once more in to sleep. I don’t move until morning.

Continued chapter three.

[veliseraptor]

SEVEN YEARS, 1.1k, maeglin in between for not-tumblr-user-@dumbledorably

“It’s said it takes seven years to grow completely new skin cells. To think, this year I will grow into a body you never will   have touched.”

-Brett Elizabeth Jenkins

i. year one

He keeps thinking that someone will know. 

He returns alone, the story spilling easily from his lips: ambushed, all the others, dead, all dead, I alone survived. He thinks it must be visible in his eyes, that his uncle will take one look at him and see his corruption. Cast him from Caragdûr, he says. Ill-gotten son of an ill-fated father.

Turgon embraces him with relief, welcomes him home with kindness that makes him shiver. Later he bends over retching, expecting something foul and black to issue from his mouth, some evidence, some trace. 

His hands shake at the feast. He hides them under the table. It is easier to smile than he expects. 

He can feel Idril watching. She will know, he thinks wildly. Always, Idril has known him better than all others. She loves him, she does, he clings to that even as it suddenly tastes like poison.

He is ravenously hungry and eats until his belly aches. When he sleeps that night he wakes choking on screams. 

He crawls under the bed and closes his eyes again. It is safer there. 

ii. year two

No one seems to see anything wrong with him. 

He does not understand how. He can feel it, after all: every breath, every heartbeat, every waking moment the knowledge throbs within him, the fear, the dread that is now and forever etched into his bones. He thinks it will be with him forever, even unto the Halls themselves. 

He wants to scream. He wants to laugh. How did he never see it before? This seething pit of hypocrites, their smiles just as false as his. Every one of them just as faithless. If they had seen what he has, if they knew what he knows-

His anger is a snake wound around his heart and squeezing ever tighter. 

At night he paces the high walls, standing nearer and nearer to the edge, teasing himself with the lure of the fall. 

But what is the use? The thing is already done. His death will not stop it. 

Nothing will. 

iii. year three

He can fight. 

This he thinks wildly, standing in the forge and sweating over a half-finished blade. He can go to his uncle and tell him everything, tell him the truth, and claw some scrap of himself back from the ruin he has made. 

They will lose, but maybe he can die clean.

(In his mind, Morgoth says you are mine, forever and his hand slips, searing his palm on hot metal.)

Three years have passed, he tells himself, and there is silence. Maybe there is time. (There is no time. There is no victory. He learned that, as he learned the pointlessness of defiance, in pain and terror and dreams of his mother that twisted into nightmares, because there is nothing that Morgoth cannot turn to rot.)

He thinks of Turgon’s face, cold and still as his father cursed him, them, everyone. Cold and still as his father fell to his death. Too late.

He stares at the metal melting into slag. It is ruined, too. 

iv. year four

No one has ever asked, how did you escape? 

No one has ever asked, why did they leave you alive?

He is exhausted. He is waiting, wishing he knew when the fire would come. He fantasizes about oblivion, about peace, about silence from the clamor in his own head. 

If one person asked, he thinks, he could tell them. But he has tried, now, to speak the words. Always they die on his tongue. I am sick, he tries to say. The world is sick. We are all dying. The words he speaks are not his own, but belong to some other tongue.

The man’s son (Idril’s son) fears him. Good, he tells himself. I will make a new city, he tells himself. I will save her and together we will begin again, he tells himself. 

Some days he even believes it. 

v. year five

He thinks he is going mad. 

He cuts his hand in the forge and is surprised when it bleeds red instead of black. He goes to Idril, hand still unbound. Cousin, he says, and stops. What can he say? 

Your hand, she says, shocked. He looks at it, almost surprised. There is no pain. 

Ah, he says. Yes.

She makes him sit down. Fetches bandages. He watches it bleed and starts to weep.

Cousin? she says when she returns.

Take your husband and your son and go, he could say. Run to the sea and swim back to Valinor. Only shed a few tears for me before you go.

You are beautiful, he says, and she draws back. You are the only beautiful thing that is left. 

I ask you not to speak to me that way, Lomion, she says. What is the matter? You are acting so strange. 

I think I am dead. I think I am dying. I think I am a hollow thing about to shatter.

We were friends, once, he says, reaching out to touch her face. Again, she pulls away. 

(In the name of that friendship, help me.)

You should go, she says. I am sorry. She even sounds regretful. For just a moment, he hates her. 

Please, he wishes he could say. Please. 

But there is nothing in him left to save. 

vi. year six

(In the shadows under Thangorodrim, his mother came to him, cradling his face in her hands. “My shadow son,” she said. “Is this for what I gave my life?”)

You wanted to speak, Tuor says. He sounds wary. He does not turn. Tonight he stands above Caragdûr, wondering if somewhere below his father’s bones still lie. 

I did. There was some thought, a fool’s hope, that perhaps it would be easier with this man for whom he bears no love. He turns. For a moment, the earth pulls at his heels. He wonders, sometimes, if he dreamed it all. There was no Dark Lord, no pits, no terrible bargains made. 

Of what? 

The words will not come. Six years of silence, he thinks bitterly. Six years in which he shattered and no one saw, no one asked. He has always been alone, ever since his mother died, but now it is clearer than ever. 

Let it all burn, he thinks. Let it all burn, and me as well.

Lomion? Tuor says. His false concern makes him want to snarl. 

You should never have come here, he says at last, and leaves. 

vii. year seven

The city falls. 

The city falls, and Idril’s eyes blaze with hatred, and there is blood in his eyes, and he swears he almost remembers this, almost dreamed it once. Soon he is going to wake up, in shadows under the trees, and he will be young again, and whole. 

It is going to be all right, he says. Idril’s face blurs, sharpens. His eyes sting with smoke or tears. I will keep you safe. I swear it.