#otherwise I constantly fight against their gravity.

[neverendingford]

I have made my peace with being forgotten

and yet you think of me.

I have made my peace with being unloved

and yet you continue to try.

I have made my peace with this silence

and yet your knuckles rap at my door.

I have made my peace with letting go

but you continue to hold on.

what do you think of me?

what do you love?

who do you speak to?

what are you holding onto?

is it me you perceive?

or a shape of something you thought was real

created from dreams and wishes and the promise of a thousand people before you.

[lucy-verse]

You know what really makes me mad?

Don’t get me wrong, I love Legolas. But aside from having some badass action scenes and hilariously stating the obvious, he isn’t very fleshed out in LOTR - which is completely understandable, as the focus is on Frodo and Aragorn’s personal growth.

But the Hobbit really had a chance to explore Legolas’s relationship with his father to give a popular, but otherwise rather one-dimensional character some depth. To show a side of him that no one had seen before and make him more than just eye candy.

They could have shown the wise and experienced elf of the Fellowship being viewed as nothing more than a child to his fellow elves. Shown his struggle to choose between remaining in the realm he loves and spreading his wings like the restless little bird he is. Shown him being vulnerable and making mistakes, and realising that despite his age, he still has a lot to learn about the world and how cruel it can be.

Instead, they threw him into a stupid love triangle with a female character they promised wouldn’t be shoehorned in for a romance plot (as if anyone was falling for that).

They had him turn his back on his home at the drop of a hat and side with dwarves just to make said love interest happy, which not only goes against Legolas being canonically attached to his home, but also takes away the significance of his initial resentment and eventual friendship with Gimli.

They dropped hints about his mother’s death, but never really went anywhere with it, so it was very hard to get emotionally attached to the subplot, to the point where it may as well have not been included at all.

They gave him daddy issues, but again, didn’t really go anywhere with it, as he and Thranduil barely interacted, and when they did, it was never relevant to their father-son relationship. There might have been time to properly explore this, if that shitty ass romance wasn’t constantly taking up screentime.

They made him invincible to the point of absurdity, like defying gravity as he walked up falling steps, balanced on dwarves heads as if it was nothing, and walked away from being thrashed by Bolg with only a tiny nosebleed. I know elves are hardier and more agile than men, but that was ridiculous.

It feels like such wasted potential, like they only included Legolas’s character for the purpose of over the top battle scenes and fan service. I would much rather have seen a proper exploration into Thranduil’s grief, the effect it had on Legolas, and the two of them overcoming it together in a way that could tie into Legolas’s character and motivations in LOTR, than watch another two hours of Orlando Bloom doing OTT fight scenes with those hideous contact lenses.

[steveskafte]

LITTLE GREY SHEEP One of my favourite album covers is "Little Grey Sheep" by Danny Schmidt. The artwork shows a black sheep and white sheep mating, and the title infers the result of their efforts. It's a quick, silly joke, but I always identified with the notion in the name. When someone says that they're the black sheep of their family, it usually implies an intensely outsider condition. Something about their lifestyle, beliefs, or behaviour marked them unacceptable – perhaps permanently. For most families, being a criminal would do it. In others, just your thoughts might be enough to push you to the outskirts. Becoming a liberal child of conservative parents, or an Atheist kid among otherwise Christian siblings, could easily make you the pariah. Maybe you're attracted to the wrong kind of person, or don't talk the right way. Some become the black sheep by not following in the family business. I was never dramatic enough to turn everyone against me, didn't go to wild parties or end up an addict. Never felt the inclination to break laws, and if my beliefs have shifted from what my parents taught me, I was never inclined to start a fight about it. But being an artist born to a blue collar background, and only a mildly successful one at that, is plenty to make you the grey sheep in most families. I know the "get a real job" speech by heart. Shaking it off is like the negotiation of gravity and flight, building up a stubbornness enough to be the first of your kind, a mutation. My twenties were tough, but I got used to the consistency of failure. Turning thirty has been harder for the hints of hope. It's strange to say how making progress can be rougher than none at all. Clinging to a ladder is easier on your grip than constantly clawing rung over rung. I'd be nowhere at all if it weren't for what's modern. Somewhere buried deep in the rural recesses of my home Nova Scotia, few creative children make it out intact. They leave for the city, then lose their ability to express what's wild. Urban existence holds so much more opportunity. Fully half of my home province lives in Halifax, everything else is just a town. There are no satellite spaces to tie it all together – so that's why online connections came to mean so much. World at my fingertips and all that; making me realize I'm less alone than I imagined. It can get surreal being young in the country, and I've had weeks without seeing a single person under forty. While my own youth gets slick and slippery, I hold what I can from being bitter. It's nowhere near my nature to dwell on failed expectations. This little grey sheep is his own favourite joke – caught in the joy of existing at all, and the weight of why not. December 15, 2022 Bear River, Nova Scotia Year 16, Day 5513 of my daily journal.

[lady-byleth]

I've been scrolling through the Elden Ring tag on various websites the last few days and the number of people who bend over backwards to "prove" that Malenia couldn't have possibly been more powerful than Radahn is...very high and the undercurrent of "she's a woman so of course she's weaker" isn't exactly subtle for some of them

They also like to take actions both of them take out of context to prove he's better and it's pissing me off

It's also bullshit cuz if you spend just a few minutes with the lore and also the story trailer, you get a lot of stuff that proves Malenia wasn't at full strength physically or mentally when she fought Radahn

So of course I had to rant about it

One argument I saw a lot was that Radahn was waiting for Malenia to get ready before fighting her and that somehow proves that he didn't see her as a threat or something. But if you go into the lore both Radahn and Malenia were known for being extremely honorable people that inspired deep loyalty from the people around them.

Radahn's followers worked extremely hard to give him a proper send-off and put him out of his rot-eaten misery. Malenia's Cleanrot Knights stuck close to her despite being fully aware the Scarlet Rot would kill them eventually. This is not the type of behavior people exhibit when their leader is the kind of person who would attack an opponent when they aren't ready.

So of course he waited for her to get her arm straightened out, she would've done the same if their positions were reversed.

Another thing is that people accuse Malenia of using the Scarlet Rot unfairly or whatever and that she wouldn't have had a chance without it. But that's without accounting for the fact that she doesn't use magic of any kind otherwise. Radahn is gifted in gravity magic, he displays that in his boss fight, we die to it a whole bunch. Hell, he even seems to use it to pull his weapons out of the ground in the trailer.

When we fight Malenia however she doesn't use any Incantations or Sorceries. Until she unleashes the Scarlet Rot she's a purely physical combatant. She relies solely on speed, agility and her supreme sword skills. She doesn't need anything else cuz she's that good with a blade. Even her life drain ability is explicitly not magic, it's her strength of will.

"But lady, if she's so good, why didn't she beat him?" Good question.

Let's think about the circumstances. It all started when Godwyn was murdered, the Elden Ring shattered and the demigods start warring. This means that technically every region on the map that isn't the Haligtree is enemy territory for Malenia.

Disregarding the fact that she wasn't interested in taking Marika's place or become Elden Lord or whatever, some of the other demigods seemed to be pretty gung-ho about it. Being a shardbearer made her a target for those demigods even though she and Miquella were more interested in growing the Haligtree into an alternative to the Erdtree.

So she had a continent spanning campaign behind her - the Hill of Swords monuments describe her crushing Godrick's forces among other things - so she and her Knights have been on the move for a while before she ever made it to Caelid.

In addition to that the Scarlet Rot is implied to be sentient. It wants to spread. In strong enough concentrations it can create life, namely Millicent and her sisters who consider Malenia their mother. And she's been suppressing it her entire life. Miquella's unalloyed gold definitely helped but the physical and mental fatigue of such a long campaign probably wasn't good for her control over it.

And if we look at the devastation it wreaks, transforming Caelid into a wasteland and turning the Haligtree into a rot-eaten husk, she's constantly surpressing a destructive force the Great Ones in Bloodborne would've been proud of (not to mention that it may in fact be an Outer God).

And then, just before she uses the Scarlet Rot against Radahn he smashes her arm. The biggest piece of unalloyed gold she's got on her, gone, and with it any help it may have been to her.

So after a huge campaign across an entire continent, always having to dedicate part of her mental processes to suppressing a force powerful enough it can turn her into a true Goddess if she let's it bloom three times, she faces her toughest challenge yet armed with nothing but a sword.

And Radahn? An expert gravity magic user, about twice her height, several times as wide, definitely stronger than her physically and in what looks like perfect health physically and mentally. Not to mention that he's fighting on home turf and doesn't have to wrangle down a sentient force of destruction flowing through his veins.

And she fights him to a standstill before she unleashes the Rot.

I'm not saying that if they were fighting on equal terms she'd have won but...I am saying that if they were fighting on equal terms she'd have won.

[detectivemarvelingcomics]

How about a request for batsis getting hurt during a mission and batboys exaggerate 😈 thank u!

I DO LOVE MY BATSIS AND BATFAM FICS LETS GOOOOOO

Also I’m assuming you want a reaction! If you want otherwise do let me know! So let’s get started!

Batsis!Reader Gets Injured in a Mission and the Batboys are the Only Ones Home

No Specified AU

TW: Language

Genre: Fluff, Light Comedy

[DC Masterlist]

Word Count: 1.3K

You skid to a stop on your motorcycle, leaving tire tracks behind you in the batcave. You could clean that later when you weren’t bleeding out. You stumbled off of the vehicle, your hand still clutching on to the bloodied towel that kept your uniform from getting dirty and took your helmet off. You had a rather dirty run in with a few lowtime criminals who some how got their hands on alien tech, how that happened you’d have to ask Star Labs later, but either way despite your many encounters with villains who were much worse, the sudden blast from a laser shocked you just enough for them to get at least a cut in. Regardless you took care of them quickly and took the weapons back, which were now pathetically hanging off the side of your motorcycle.

You rolled your shoulders back and began you ascent up the stairs to get back into the manor, it would be best if you cleaned this up as soon as you could because god were you tired. You opened the door quietly.

“Please may no one be home,” you said to yourself repeatedly. Your brothers had a knack for getting rather loud when you came back with cuts and bruises, but you couldn’t blame them with all of their unresolved trauma and the fact that you, miraculously, happen to be the one Bat that hasn’t either died and came back or gotten beaten nearly to death, which you constantly held over them because damn in this business that’s more than just an achievement.

You successfully made it to the bathroom and pulled out the small medical kit and started working on the shallow wound, and right as you finished the shower curtain pulled back.

“Ahh!” You jumped back.

“Ahh!” Tim got into a defensive stance.

“What the hell are you doing in the shower?!"

"What the hell are you doing without a shirt?"

"I asked first!"

"You don't just sit in the shower to think?" You do, but you lock the door when you decide to do that. "Oh my god, did you get injured?!"

"No," you grabbed your shirt and hid the bandages that wrapped around your torso. You both stared at each other for a moment before Tim darted out of the bathroom. "Don't you fucking dare tell anyone, Drake!" You followed him out and ran into the worst possible person.

"Whoa, careful there, (Y/N), when did you get home?" Dick asks. Then he notices your bandages. "What happened? Who did you fight? Why didn't you call for backup? Where were you?"

"Oh my god, I'm fine, Dick," you walked past him and he caught up with you.

"Fine? Fine? You didn't even wrap that right, (Y/N)," Dick begins his lecture and you begin to tune him out right as you walked into your room and shut the door. Dick, knowing his boundaries, stood outside still lecturing you, and you walked out with a new shirt on and continued to ignore him while he shot you rapid fire questions. "At least answer my first questions, (Y/N)." You sighed, and without turning to him, said,

"Got grazed with a knife. Ran into some burglars that for some reason had alien tech. Didn't need it. Downtown," you answered his questions in succession while entering the kitchen, waving to Jason, who was getting a snack, and Tim, who was probably telling Jason about your predicament.

"Alien tech? And they didn't use it?" Tim asks.

"Exactly, they probably didn't know how to. But it doesn't matter, because I am very clearly fine," you reached past Jason into the refrigerator and pulled out a fruit cup.

"You're bleeding through your shirt," Jason points out. You look down and he was right. You let out another loud sigh and tear off a few paper towels from the sink and placed them under your shirt. "At least dress it right or you'll die from bleeding out rather than actually getting stabbed."

"Well, to be fair, if Tim didn't spontaneously pop out of the shower maybe I would have," you complained.

"You didn't lock the door?" Jason turns to him.

"There are ten bathrooms in this mansion, I didn't think anyone would go in!" Tim defends. "But that's besides the point! (Y/N), I don't think you understand the gravity of the situation. If they had alien tech then that knife could have been laced with something."

"Are you implying that I could have alien eggs in me?"

"Why's everyone screaming?" The youngest Wayne entered the kitchen. "I can hear you all from my room."

"Tim thinks (Y/N) got eggs implanted in her," Dick says quickly.

"No, no I don't. Besides, that's not how alien fertilization works."

"You know how alien fertilization works?" You couldn't help the contorted face you made at the thought of how he knew.

"You always do this when we call you out, (Y/N), the point is you could very likely have some kind of alien virus or bacteria inside of you that could quite possibly kill you!"

"Tim, I'm pretty sure it was a normal knife," you walked over to the pantry and took out a bag of potato chips.

"But, if what Grayson just told me was right," Damien cuts in. "How stupid could you be? Letting something as simple as a knife get to you?" He mocks.

"If you weren't a kid I would've punted you by now," you pointed at him with a potato chip and ate it. "Do I have to remind you about last week?"

"No," he scoffs. "But that's not the point. You're trained well enough to avoid bullets and you let a knife get close to you? How out of it were you?"

"I will admit that the alien guns that also shot Bruce did distract me a little."

"And you let them go free?!" Jason finally grasped the gravity of the situation. "What if they come back to find you because they're pissed?"

"Relax, I have them in the batcave," you waved him off.

"You could've been killed," Jason argues.

"Oh stop being so dramatic, Todd, I'm obviously standing here right now, aren't I?"

"One shot from any of those and you could've either been disintegrated or catapulted into another dimension," Tim adds.

"Or worse, completely debilitated and decommissioned," Dick continues.

"You could be dying right now and you wouldn't know it because of how dense you are, (L/N)," Damien was next. You continued eating your chips while they started to talk over each other, then you finally spoke up.

"Okay, I get it, I'll be more careful from now on," you spoke in a steady voice. "Now, I'm gonna go clean this up because I was so rudely interrupted by someone, and when I come back, this discussion will be over," you held your hand up to silence Jason, who was about to retaliate. Then you walked over to the kitchen door and pulled it off of its hinges.

You stood there for a good few seconds, staring at the door in your hands, and the ruined door frame. Then you looked back at the other boys, who essentially all had their jaws on the ground.

"Could she do that before?" Jason asked Dick.

"No..." the other shook his head.

"Alfred's going to kill me..." you laid the door against the wall. You reached for the water bottle on the side of the table and opened it, intending to chug the whole thing down to calm your nerves, but none of the water came out, instead the whole thing was iced over. "Uh..."

The kitchen was silent. You ran back to the bathroom and took your shirt off then the bandages, seeing that the wound had turned blue and had completely frosted over. The other boys followed you, their heads sticking through the door.

"I was right?!" Tim's voice echoed throughout the manor and you slammed your head on the wall behind you.

[script-nef]

Presents (and other things)

Category: fluff

2k words; Shopping date [3/6]

← Previous chapter | Masterlist

Out of everyone in the whole world, the person you love most in the world is Nanami Kento, your brother. He was the one who saved you from the cursed spirit that haunted you and took your parents’ lives. He was the one who took you in so that you wouldn’t be put in the system since you were still a minor. He made sure every day that you were safe and healthy even if he was injured or exhausted after a fight.

That's why in the weeks nearing his birthday, you made sure that he would have a relaxing time. He said you didn’t have to and he’d rather have you not fret over him, but that is unacceptable. He needs to have a good birthday. If you could, you would make the whole month just about him. But the last time you tried that he sat you down for a long, scolding lecture about how it’s unnecessary. So that’s out of the option.

Right now, just a few days shy of his actual birthday, you have a problem. Because you were buried in work and have a terrible memory.

His present.

You forgot to buy a present. 

“I forgot to buy a present! Why am I so dumb… Why am I like this, Gojou? It’s literally one of the most important things with birthdays and I forgot it. Because I’m an idiot. I wish the ground would swallow me up… I deserve it…” Thuds reverberate through the room as your head makes contact with the table. Repeatedly. Hard.

Wallowing in self-hate is great but your brain starts spitting out all viable present options. 

Shopping for Ken-chan is hard because he’s not materialistic in the least. He also doesn’t have a lot of hobbies. “I don’t need presents.” is a regular phrase every time his birthday or holidays come up, but then he gives presents to you and you end up feeling worse. This is all while your brain is getting thrown around. 

A hand comes between your forehead and the desk, gently bringing it up. Gojou has a small pout as his cold fingers try to soothe the burning sensation. 

“You still have a couple of days left! Don’t bang your head against the table, your brain doesn’t work enough as it is.” He easily moves out away from your slap. But returns in time to stop your head from falling again.

“I should have remembered this weeks ago. There’s no use trying to make me feel better, Gojou. I’m a terrible sister. I deserve this pain.” His fingers poke against your cheeks and he smooshes and stretches them. It’s uncomfortable but you let him.

“I haven’t bought a present either.”

“You’ve never given him a present.”

“This is the year to start! I have to get on his good side!” That’s weird since he never cared about what Ken-chan thought of him.

 “Why?”

“We can shop together!” Classic ignoring. His face comes to level with yours. “Let’s go to Shinjuku, I’m sure there are things even Nanami will like. Also, I found a new sweets shop.” You stare at him. “But I will focus on the present for today! C’mon, I can fly us there. You’ve never flown before, right? I think it’ll help.”

For some inexplicable reason, floating in mid-air with nothing to save you other than Gojou is amazing. Adrenaline pumps through your veins at the thought of crashing down to Earth if Gojou lets go. You know he won’t though. 

The air is chilly up here and there’s constant wind makes your hair whip everywhere, getting in your mouth and eyes. It doesn’t dampen your mood.

Your arms tighten around Gojou’s neck, watching the city blink with life way underneath your feet. Well, his feet, since you’re bunched up in his embrace. 

“This is so cool! Do you do this every day?”

“Yup.” He pops the p and slowly walks closer to your destination. The world looks like a child’s playhouse. 

“No wonder you’re constantly in an amazing mood! I would do this every time I’m feeling down!” Gojou’s chuckle reverberates through his chest and into your body. 

“I can take you out again when you’re sad.” A buzz takes over your body at the thought sparkles come to life in your wide eyes.

“You would do that for me?” Gojou is an incredibly important asset and therefore also very busy, needing to take care of special-grade curses that others can’t while also teaching and looking after his three students. He couldn’t be at your beck and call, you can’t ask that from him. But the gentle smile he gives is so warm and sure, assuring you that his words are true.

“Of course I would. Any day.” His grip around your body tightens.

Something weird fuzzes in your chest. It’s not uncomfortable or bad but… unique. And foreign. You got a good report back from your physical evaluation last month so it’s not something physical. Questions about what the cause could be takes over your mind but the sudden sensation of zero gravity makes all of them fly out the window. Burying your face into Gojou’s neck, you prepare for the worst.

“And we have arrived! M’lady.” Chipper as ever, Gojou’s feet touch the ground with a light plop and he lets you down gently. You look at him in confusion until realisation kicks in. And you kick him.

“Don’t do that! I think my heart stopped!” He cackles at that, finishing with a “Won’t do it next time.” If there is a next time. The probability is reduced significantly because of what he just did. 

Taking your hand in his, he escorts you down the stairs from the rooftop and into a department store. The people who couldn’t see mere moments ago high up in the sky.

As expected, it’s loud and crowded. There are hundreds, maybe thousands of people shuffling about and sweeping everyone to move even if they wanted to. It’s fortunate that Gojou has a firm grip on your hand because otherwise you’d be completely lost. Still, it’s nice to be buried in the commotion of everyday lives. It helps you forget about the whole war that’s looming over everyone.

“Any ideas on what to get?” The question you’ve been asking yourself for the past hour or so is echoed by Gojou. “We have all the time in the world, so don’t worry. I’ll keep you company for as long as you want.” 

Blisters form on the back of your feet thanks to the amount of times you walked around the huge place. Gojou bought you bandaids even though you said Shouko can fix you up. It hurts a lot less thanks to that. Finding a present is still a challenge. Every time you think you have one, your brain comes up with a rebuttal for why Ken-chan won’t like it. Two hours and nothing to show for it, you’re on the verge of collapse. Even a quick snack break didn’t help.

Gojou sets you down on a bench, letting your head roll on the backrest. The sight of thousands of coats and jackets running around upside down makes you giggle. Maybe the stress is finally getting to your head. The mantra of “I’m a terrible sister” tries to sneak in and wreak havoc. You’re just about to let it when the upside-down brand of a designer clothing shop catches your attention. 

“Gojou.”

“Yup?” His head comes into view as he copies your posture. It must look really weird to passersby but you don’t care at all. “Got an idea?” You point to the brand. Or at least you think you do. The lack of blood in your brain is making everything dizzy. “Clothes?”

“I wanna buy him a good suit.” Standing up, swaying a little from the sudden oxygen influx, you try to drag him towards the shop. He tries to make your attempt harder by using his weight and height, but a firm glare makes him concede.

“I thought he said he doesn’t want suits.” Oh yeah, you told him that when it was rejected. Ken-chan did say that, years ago, when you bought him one for your first present. While incredibly appreciated, he reasoned that there is a high chance of it being ruined since he has to fight in them. And this was around the time when you started getting paid. It was his way of saying that you should invest it in something more durable and preferably for yourself. How does Gojou remember this when it was just a fleeting complaint that you barely remember?

“He said it’s because there’s no point in spending so much money on something that might be damaged so quickly. But I’m going to buy it for a different reason.”

Collections of suits, varied by colour and pattern, line the huge shop. Skimming over a lot of them, especially ones with questionable designs, you turn to the monochromatic area. Simple is best when it comes to Ken-chan’s taste. Shuffling through the shades, you contemplate between either beige or blue.

“What’s the reason?” Gojou’s voice calls from the change room. You wonder when he got there. 

“For him to wear it if he goes back to work in an office after the war has ended. Or just when he goes out, without the worry of getting attacked and ruined. It’ll be like a promise! That he’ll do his best to survive the war to wear it.” 

Gojou is silent in response. It drags out and now you’re sort of embarrassed about what you said. Your partner loves taking advantage of others’ sappy moments, teasing them mercilessly over it. That little speech is basically perfect ammunition against you. You expect his high voice to make fun of you.

What you don’t expect is for him to pat your head, slowly and softly, like he won’t ever get to do it again.

“Nanami must have used all his luck when he became your guardian.” Voice low, bringing shivers down your body, he cards his fingers through your hair. Like he’s combing them. Seconds tick by and it feels sort of nice, telling you to relax, but your body’s on high alert for some reason.

“I think he’d like the blue one. Since he already has a brown suit, beige is too close.” A black suit adorns his body when he comes into view. Even the shirt is black. It fits him perfectly and he looks really good in it, courtesy of a good body proportion. He could possibly pull off the hideous suits you elected to shy away from at the front of the display. You clear your throat.

“Wow, you look really good in that.” His hands smooth down the creases on the jacket, preening at your compliment. “You should buy that. Wear it to dates or whatever. Ladies will fall to your feet if you show up with that.” Holding up two blue suits, your eyes scrutinize them and you try to imagine which shade will look better on your brother.

“Ladies will fall to my feet? Really?” Amusement tinges his words. The left one looks better.

“Yeah, probably. Girls love guys in suits. Well at least, I do. If they wear the right one for them, it’s really hot. Left one is better, right?” He gives a nod, a wide grin playing on his face. “Alright, this one then. Are you buying the suit?”

“Yeah. I think it’ll be put to good use.”

The checkout is quick, and it’s night when you step out. 

“You wanna go back by flying? We can try doing the Howl thing.” That’s really tempting, being able to reenact one of the most iconic scenes in the movie. But not today. 

“No, I prefer being in your arms.” Gojou stares at you with such intensity that you can feel it even with the blindfold. Then he immediately barks out a laugh, one so loud that people nearby flinch at the sudden noise. You flinch at the sudden noise.

“Ah… You really keep me on my toes, you know.” Before you can ask what that means, he takes your hand again and starts walking to the stairs. His steps are faster than usual.

Next chapter →

[jgnico]

Not to be that person but i think you're exaggerating hard on Gojo's powers, his abilities have already been broken down by physic level graduates and literally explained in the most simple way possible which isn't even surprising as they were not that hard to get a grasp on what they actually are either, only it was Gege's horrible way of trying to explain things via mathematics instead of simply saying it like so but i suppose he wanted people to work their brains a lil. The way you are explaining though is something i would hear from a die hard fanboy that likes to wank Gojo because his technique has pretty colors. If you're going to argue that he can erase/create matter and literally erase everything in existence then please for the love of JJK stop there. Gojo is not a fuckin God, he is a human that's blessed with power, notice though that there's still word human in there. The fact that he himself is aware of his shortcomings proves that he knows he's not nigh invincible. Yet you wanna throw him towards a sun for science lol, nowadays all you're doing is attributing any kind of property you want into his abilities even when literal manga proves otherwise. The fact that Gojo cannot control space/gravity directly but does so via matter proves also that he cannot do it with just a forethought and has to use rct to constantly keep his brain from frying while doing so. What next, are you going to drop your self proclaimed claims that he moves at infinitely faster speeds in the jjk than anyone else? Are you going to say he's light speed maybe? The fact that Gege never intended something for something like this in the manga yet you'd argue it's true for whatever hypocritical reason. I mean seriously, at this point just say that Gojo can erase an entire universe and be done with it, you'd probably also just straight out say he can live in space without oxygen because so. If that was all the case, the whole point of JJK would be pointless. People like you are why Gojo gets hated left and right, throwing whatever attributes you want into his powers and turning him into a fucking alien instead of a human he so fights to be perceived as.

Wow what a really long ask with a lot of assumptions.

Never said that Gojo could get rid of everything in existence, so amazing job on reading there, I see that comprehension is still as prevalent as it ever was. I also never said that he could erase matter. I said that he could create matter, which is true; that's literally what Red Glow is.

Gojo's technique as a default is the manipulation of matter. Matter makes up everything around us and always has and always will. You're matter, I'm matter, my car is matter, the sun? Also matter. Regardless of whatever form that matter takes it cannot be made or destroyed, only changed or moved. This is called the Law of Conservation of Mass and it's a concept that has been around well before germ theory or the discovery of the atom. If the Ancient Greeks could wrap their heads around it, I think you could too with the help of google. Or a book.

Regardless, the fact that Gojo, through his technique, can break the laws of physics at will, annoys me. That was the point of my post, expressing my annoyance at Gojo's abilities because from a physics standpoint, they're a nightmare.

I also never said anything about Gojo being a god. In fact, I've made a point on this blog to point out how Gojo very much isn't one. He's just as human as any other character in JJK and the label of godship, the burden of being the Strongest, is a tragic aspect of his character since the people around him stop seeing his humanity as it truly is. They see his strength, they see his technique, they see his status, but they don't see his weaknesses, which is partially due to him intentionally hiding those weaknesses to safeguard against emotional harm and because Juju society cannot keep him on the pedestal that they've placed him on if they acknowledge that he's just a person with too much responsibility. He doesn't even have a God Complex like so many people in this fandom like to claim, he's just a dude that was born with abilities that, yes, break the general laws of physics as we know them.

But how do his Techniques break those principles and why does that annoy me so? Blue creates negative distance that pulls mass toward a specific point. Red creates matter, resulting in an irregularity in space that creates a vacuum. Neither of these things are possible or probable, as distance cannot be completely negated and something (matter) cannot be made from nothing. And yet, they're a thing that Gojo can do. If it had simply been that Blue condensed matter to a point and Red moved existing matter to where it previously wasn't, then I wouldn't be annoyed because while Gojo would still be playing with the building blocks of the universe, it would at least be using defined and "attainable" methods.

But whatever, I'm a nerd and it's possible that my anger toward the concept of Limitless (and Gojo, by extension) is because I personally enjoy breaking down things by science and logic as a hobby and I can't comfortably do that with Limitless because it defies science and logic. That's my own hang up, much like that post was me airing my personal grievances with the Technique.

I just find it interesting that I can talk (rant, really) about how much Gojo's technique annoys and frustrates me (I believe I capped the post off with "Fuck off, I'm eating bricks over here") and that be taken as me "fan-boying" over the Technique and Gojo because "pretty colors." I actually don't even like Gojo and I never have. Do I outright bash him on my blog? No, not unless you count me joking about him not getting hoes. Do I analyze his character and enjoy picking apart his relationships with others? Yes, but I enjoy doing that for all of the characters in JJK, because meta analysis is fun and Gege has given us a lot of detail to work with. Unlike you, dear anon, it's very possible for me to dislike and critique things that I read without being an asshole about it, so despite you starting with "I don't mean to be that person," I think you did, in fact, mean to be that person.

You just happened to send your disorganized, overly emotional and uninformed opinion into the ask box of an adult with an engineering degree and zero patience for someone putting words into my mouth.

PS: Gege using math to explain Gojo's abilities isn't "horrible," they actually did a decent job of simplifying their explanation of Limitless in a way that teenagers could understand. Which is the point, Jump is for a teenage audience. Regardless, Physics is a branch of Science that uses mathematics throughout it's entire framework. Those "physics graduates" used multiple pages worth of math to break down Gojo's techniques, there was no "said like so" about it.

PPS: Tagging my post as "day no 586 of wanting to launch gojo into the sun for science" was obviously a joke, but I'd love to know what properties I'm attributing to Gojo's abilites that haven't been disclosed by Gege in Q&As or stated in the manga itself. Send me something I've actually said and I'll explain it for you, but until then, never assume to know how I think or feel about something, especially when it's clear that you haven't read a single other post that I've made on this blog.

[thefairyletters]

Showdown

Naruto and Hinata versus Sasuke and Sakura

According to stats: Naruto and Sasuke are almost equals, and Sakura is the most powerful Kunoichi, only second to Kaguya who is not a Kunoichi but a goddess. But if in Boruto, these two couples were to face each other for real (and not just spar) then it wouldn't be Naruto vs Sasuke while Sakura faces Hinata, contrary to what most of you may think.

Sasuke and Sakura have an extreme Intelligence advantage. The 3/4ths of the total brainpower in this fight would be coming from their team. Sakura is the second smartest shinobi in the Leaf village as an adult, only next to Shikamaru, and Sasuke is arguably a close third. It has been like that since their genin days. The amount of tactical planning going on from their side of the battle would be ridiculous. Naruto and Hinata are both the type to charge headfirst through sheer willpower and pressure, but this isn't going to work against any plan Sasuke and Sakura manage to think up. Brains are always one step ahead of brawns.

As an adult Sasuke shows us that he is capable of using the Rinnegan in far more versatile ways than he did in the war arc, when he was new to the power. He can jump dimensions, swap places with another body, affect the gravity around a person, throw immensely powerful genjutsus with a single glance, see any invisible barriers, predict movements, recognize patterns/codes/signals, and much more. Like holy shit y'all. You really think Naruto would preform as well as he did against war arc Sasuke now that Sasuke actually has a full understanding of his Rinnegan and frequently UTILIZES it?

Gravity and pull. Sasuke's Rinnegan gives him limited control of the gravity around a person or between him and another person. Using this, Sasuke has the ability to tap into some Deva path shit and yank Hinata towards him. It is immensely difficult to resist the pull, and someone as physically weak as Hinata would be easily ripped forward away from Naruto. Once they're separated, Naruto has no surefire way of getting Hinata back to his side and safe in enough time, because she would either be led right into a fatal punch from Sakura or a chidori or sword through the gut from Sasuke himself. Either way, if Naruto lets his watch on her slip even a little bit, she probably already dead or close to it. This could also be a support tactic. Sakura gets separated and is in danger. Using his Deva path pull Sasuke can drag Sakura out of a potentially dangerous situation and back to his side. Same works with the body swap. If Sakura is in a nasty situation, Sasuke can swap places with her in his Susanoo to easily tank a hit that may have killed her. That or he can swap her place with a rock if need be.

Two words: Summoning strength. Sasuke and Sakura hold two of the three boss summons in the three way deadlock. Naruto holds one. Hinata holds…nothing. It doesn't stop there though. Sasuke has at least two other powerful summons that we know of, and while they aren't as powerful as Aoda, they still give him some fair advantages. For example, Sasuke's hawk, Garuda, gives him an aerial advantage should he ever need to take to the skies as a countermeasure against Naruto. Naruto and Hinata have no summons who could reach Sasuke, and this gives him many solid opportunities. Sakura, on the other hand, has Katsuyu. Katsuyu can be spread out across the battlefield in various sizes to heal her allies wherever they may end up on the field. She could also be used in her original form to spit acid or protect the two from any taijutsu and most ninjutsu attacks. Katsuyu is stated early on to be extremely resistant to taijutsu and ninjutsu, and for fucks sake she can tank Pein's attacks with ease while protecting people inside, plus she survived Naruto's corrosive 8 tails chakra just fine. I see absolutely no taijutsu attacks that Naruto and Hinata pull getting through or truly damaging her, and Naruto would have to really put some effort into his more powerful ninjutsu techniques to take her down (also note that since Katsuyu has a very jelly like body type and is resistant to taijutsu and ninjutsu, Naruto's summons wouldn't be terribly productive on offense). But this leaves him wide open for counterattacks if he focuses too much on Katsuyu. And then of course Katsuyu can heal fatal injuries or at least sustain the life of a person fatally injured until help is given. The ultimate win for Sasuke and Sakura in terms of summoning.

Being an Active Shinobi is very important. Sasuke is an active shinobi. Very active. He is constantly on B through S rank missions, and Sakura has traveled with him on some of these. His teammate for this battle, Sakura, is still an active medical shinobi who easily accepts an S rank mission in the Retsuden novels and is originally dealing with part of it on her own before she teams up with Sasuke, who is also present. We have seen her fight in Boruto too. It shows that she is 100% still at her peak performance. Well, what about Naruto and Hinata? Hinata is a housewife who hasn't gone on anything above a C rank mission in years. She takes a B rank mission with her father and sister when Boruto is a toddler, and this is all we hear of it. She's rusty AF and doesn't have the experience nor mission bulk that Sasuke and Sakura have under there belt, nowhere NEAR it. Naruto is somewhat similar. He is, for lack of a better description, out of practice. He was only recently taking on S rank opponents in Boruto, and other than that he's been doing desk work and some minor shinobi guard training over the past few years. Sasuke and Sakura are more in shape and have more recent shinobi mission experience than Naruto and Hinata's combination, both by themselves AND as a team in a fight, which is immensely important here.

Everyone is always forgetting about how important Support can be. Sakura is a first class, kage-level healer at this point in the series. Her medical ninjutsu surpassed Tsunade's back in her own canon novel and is confirmed in the novelization of Boruto's movie a second time. Her ability to constantly heal or boost Sasuke's chakra in battle is important. Whereas while Naruto can amp up Hinata with a chakra cloak, Sakura can go even further. We see with Obito that Sakura can transfer her Byakugou seal markings with all it's chakra to another person she is touching, and in the Retsuden novels this is looked into further. By applying her seal to Sasuke, he becomes an absolute terror for even Naruto to handle. Imagine this: super fast shinobi w/ the Rinnegan abilities and Susanoo suddenly not only getting a chakra boost, but being able to automatically heal potentially fatal wounds completely over and over again for as long as the chakra exists. Sakura at this point has 15+ years of chakra stored in her Byakugou seal (we know this because she notes briefly in the canon novels after The Last that she has not stopped storing chakra and plans to continue doing so just in case she ever needs it). But let's say she didn't continue after that though. She would still have around 6 or 7 years of chakra in her seal. 6–7 YEARS OF CHAKRA. I don't care how much chakra you think Naruto has, it isn't anywhere close to the amount of chakra currently inactive within Sakura's seal, considering the fact that she could completely replenish Naruto's chakra with only 3 days worth of her general chakra. Sasuke would be a BEAST. Absolutely nightmarish on every level if this fight. And Sakura, so long as the chakra exists, would also be nightmarish - especially for those people who think Sakura and Hinata would end up dualing it out at some point.

Have we gotten to the whole dimension portal thing yet? Nope and this is a crucial winning point for Sasuke and Sakura. If in danger, in need of a new plan or simply to dodge away from a particularly crazy attack from Naruto, Sasuke can pull both himself and Sakura into a completely different space in the blink of an eye. He can also use this to jump around the space Naruto is in and really screw around with them. And if you're worried about Sasuke's chakra levels diminishing quickly, don't be. Once again, Sakura's Byakugou seal is the ultimate support ability. Remember that whole “she has at least 6-7 years of chakra even if she, for some reason, wimped out on her plans” spiel? Yeah…that's an easy fix. She helped Obito actually hold open AND SEARCH (people seem to forget that he had to use chakra to search dimensions) multiple dimensions when she only had 3 years of chakra in the seal, and even the she still had enough chakra left to reform the seal on her forehead soon after. Sooo…keeping Sasuke's chakra level high wouldn't be a problem. They can also use the dimensions for Sakura to heal and repair them both. Hinata can't heal and Naruto can't truly “heal" so much as his life force is just really strong, so they're at yet another disadvantage.

Terrain manipulation and swaps. This is where it gets really technical. Sasuke has the Rinnegan, and with it he can do serious damage very early on in the game when his opponent is not expecting such a rush. Try to imagine a scenario like so: Sakura winds up for a full power punch directly behind Sasuke as soon as the fight begins, or otherwise as early on as possible. She fires off the punch at Sasuke. Sasuke, at the last possible second he can manage, swaps his place with Hinata, and BAM. That's one down for team Naruto. Hinata would either be dead or close to it immediately after she hits the ground and stops. Same applies for a switch with Naruto. At that close of a range with literally zero time to dodge at that point, even Naruto would be fairly damaged from a point blank shot, and a damaged Naruto from the start spells bad news for Hinata - the girl basically fully depends on Naruto in the fight, she can't do anything to Sasuke or Sakura without his constant support.

Overall, we can go into arguments if whether Naruto is stronger than Sasuke or Sakura stronger than Hinata, but the truth of the matter is that it doesn't really matter. What matters is that Sasuke is at least competitively close in power to Naruto, and Sakura arguably the most powerful kunoichi in the series at the moment. Their power gap is extraordinarily close, so at this point it all comes down to who is best tactically suited and best prepared for this kind of nuclear fight. And honestly, with their ability to manipulate their surroundings and work more with the terrain and constantly replenish, there's no doubt about the victory. 80% of the time it'll be Sasuke and Sakura if they play their cards like they should.

Answer credits goes to Alex Hendrix, Quora

[cherubcow]

“Invincible”, Season 1 (2021) Review

Somehow both very cool and very fucking stupid :D

About Created and written primarily by Robert Kirkman (principle writer for The Walking Dead comic and TV show), this Young Adult cartoon basically synthesizes a number of comic book characters (e.g., Superman, Batman, Green Lantern, Hellboy, Wonder Woman, Gambit) and tries to balance their heroism with cynical twists and dark realities. It's an exercise like Brightburn (2019) in that it mirrors existing comic writing all too closely in order to make violent twists. The cool stuff arrives pretty much immediately. You can tell right away that the physics have some level of realism, and it quickly gets serious because of this. The easy comparison would be to The Boys (also by Amazon, also about violent heroes, and also very well-produced). So, if you like The Boys (2019–), you'll probably like Invincible only a little less.

(( Some spoilers but nothing too specific ))

Wrong Focus But, the stupid stuff comes from the same error that the Kick-Ass movie (2010) made: it focuses on the wrong person(s). In Kick-Ass, the error was focusing on.. well.. "Kick-Ass", an irredeemable loser and waste of screen time. Invincible makes the same mistake, focusing on.. well.. "Invincible", a (so far) irredeemable loser and waste of screen time. So, despite its virtues, this show cannot escape that it made the decision to go for the Young Adult viewing demographic. It reminds me of Alita: Battle Angel (2019) in that way too: some very cool adult concepts ruined by the dramatic devices of unrepentant teenage stupidity and irrelevance. I didn't even like that stuff when I was a teenager, though Jordan Catalano gets a pass.

Main Cast and Characters The supporting characters were also very stupid. The most annoying was definitely Amber Bennett (voiced by the otherwise cool Zazie Beetz from Deadpool 2 (2018) and Joker (2019)), 

who is supposed to be attractive somehow to Mark Grayson ("Invincible", voiced by Steven Yeun, who played Glenn on The Walking Dead) 

despite the fact that she constantly judges him, fails to understand him, often fails to give him any kind of benefit of the doubt, and continues to scowl at him and be hurtful towards him even when she has information that should change her outlook towards him. And because she is part of the love triangle shared between herself, Invincible/Mark, and "Atom Eve"/Samantha (voiced by the awesome Gillian Jacobs from Community (2009–2014)), 

audiences simply have to bear with it that Amber's annoying character will be present and wasting time until Mark can realize that Amber is in fact toxic and that Eve actually understands him and can improve him in more positive directions. That love triangle should have been a 20-minute distraction, but I'm guessing that it will eat up a season or two more, especially if the writers become cowardly and fail to change things for fear of messing up a perceived "winning" formula. In my ideal story line, they would skip ahead 10 years, drop the teen drama, the love triangle, and the stupid jokes and have Invincible and Eve paired in defense of Earth, with the main tension being from their worry that the other would be horribly gored in front of them during lethal fights against cosmic enemies ;)

Aside, I am aware of Amber’s motivation for being a bad person, I just think her justification is not based in understanding, empathy, and a regard for the gravity of Invincible’s situation. In a strict political sense, Invincible should not commit a lie of omission by keeping her in the dark about his identity — even if for the “noble lie” reason of protecting her — but in a real sense, he is a fucking teenager who just developed his super powers. For her to pretend that he should reveal his entire identity to her — a potentially transformative and even dangerous decision — after a few months of teenage romance paints an absurd portrait of her mind. It does, however, align her with Omni-Man, because where Omni-Man forces Invincible to become an adult in the fighting sense (pushing with full force early on), Amber forces Invincible to become an emotional adult by getting him to understand that toxic people such as herself need to be given boundaries — and he needs to learn to clearly delineate and communicate his real desires. By knowing that he does not want Amber, people who regiment his free time, or people who do not suit him, for instance, he can realize why Eve was an obvious decision: Eve understands, can make time when they have time, and will let him find his decisions. Part of a coming-of-age story tends to be realizing what one actually wants, and Invincible’s hesitation in telling Amber his identity shows that he does not truly want her. This separates Invincible from, say, Spider-Man, who avoided telling Mary Jane his identity not because he did not want her but because he wanted at all costs to protect her.

The next most annoying character has to be Debbie Grayson (voiced by TV-cancer Sandra Oh and who luckily was not animated to look like the real Sandra Oh and who should have been voiced instead by Bobby Lee due to Lee's successful MadTV parody of Sandra Oh). 

Debbie basically fills the role of Skyler in Breaking Bad, except that Debbie's character tends to be slightly more understanding before her inevitable and toxic Skyler-resentment and undermining behavior. Despite having an 8-episode arc of change, Debbie's character flips too quickly and lacks the empathy and Omni-Man motive-justifying that would make her interesting (the comic's development may vary). For instance, if she refused to believe that Omni-Man meant his own words, that would make her empathetic and perhaps virtuous even if misled, but instead she dropped their "20 years" of understanding after viewing Omni-Man in action, which makes her appear shallow, easily manipulated, and unsympathetic. That was a definite "Young Adult" genre move because it shows immaturity by the writers to break apart a bond of 20 years so quickly. Mediocre teens might accept such a fissure because their lives have not yet seen or may not comprehend that level of time, but adults know that even long-standing and problematic relationships (which, beyond the lie, Omni-Man's and Debbie's was not shown to be) take a lot of time to break — even with lies exposed.

Omni-Man The biggest show strength for me was of course Omni-Man, who in a success of casting was voiced by J.K. Simmons in a kind of reprisal of Simmons' role as Fletcher from Whiplash (2014). 

The Fletcher/Omni-Man parallel shows through their being incredibly harsh but extremely disciplined and principled, forcing people to become beyond even their own ideal selves (this via Omni-Man's tough-love teaching of Invincible — comically, Omni-Man was actually psychologically easier on Invincible than Fletcher was on Whiplash's Andrew character). Despite the show's attempts to villainize Omni-Man, he, like Fletcher and also like Breaking Bad's Walter White, becomes progressively more awesome, eventually representing a Spartan will, an unconquerable drive, and a realistic and martial understanding of a hero's role.

To the show's credit, while it wrote Omni-Man to be outright genocidal and from a culture of eugenicists (again, Spartan), they could not help but admire him and his "violence" and "naked force" (for a Starship Troopers reference), giving him a path to redemption. That redemption comes in part because — despite the show's attempt to be often realistic and violent — its decision to be directed at young adults via dumb jokes, petty relationship drama, the characters’ reckless lack of anonymity and security in their neighborhood (loudly taking off and landing right at the doorstep), and light indy music also made the portrayed violence far less literal. With a less literal violence, the real statement becomes not that Omni-Man really did kill so many people (though he certainly did kill those people within the show's plot) but that he was symbolically capable of terrible violence but could be reformed for good. That's the shortcoming with putting violence under demographic limitations. If it's a PG-13 Godzilla knocking down cities, the deaths in the many fallen skyscrapers don't matter so much (the audience will even forgive Godzilla for mass death if it happens mostly in removed spectacle), whereas if it's Cormac McCarthy envisioning a very realistic fiction, every death rides the edge of true trauma.

By showing light between the real and the symbolic, it is much easier to identify and agree with Omni-Man. For instance, when Robot (voiced by Zachary Quinto of Heroes and the newer Star Trek movies) 

shows too much empathy for the revealed weakness of "Monster Girl" (voiced by Grey Griffin), the audience may have thought, "Pathetic," even before Omni-Man himself said it. And this because Omni-Man knows that true and powerful enemies (including himself) will not hesitate to use ultra-violence against these avenues of weakness. "Invincible" can make his Spider-Man quips while in lethal battles, but he does so while riding the edge of death — something that Omni-Man has to teach Invincible by riding him to the brink of his own.

Other Cast/Characters and Amazon's Hidden Budget It was impressive how many big-name actors were thrown into this — a true hemorrhage of producer funding. Amazon has so far hidden the budget numbers, perhaps because they don't want people to know that the show (like many of its shows) represents a kind of loss-leader to jump-start its entertainment brand.

Aside from those already mentioned, the show borrows a number of actors from The Walking Dead (WD), including.. • Chad L. Coleman ("Martian Man"; "Tyreese" on WD),

• Khary Payton ("Black Samson"; "Ezekiel" on WD),

• Ross Marquand (several characters; "Aaron" on WD)

• Lauren Cohan ("War Woman"; "Maggie" on WD)

• Michael Cudlitz ("Red Rush"; "Abraham" on WD)

• Lennie James ("Darkwing"; "Morgan" on WD)

• Sonequa Martin-Green ("Green Ghost"; "Sasha" on WD) 

There were also connections to Rick and Morty and Community, not just with Gillian Jacobs but also with... • Justin Roiland ("Doug Cheston"), who voices both Rick and Morty in Rick and Morty,

• Jason Mantzoukas ("Rex"),

• Walton Goggins ("Cecil"),

• Chris Diamantopoulos (several characters),

• Clancy Brown ("Damien Darkblood"),

• Kevin Michael Richardson ("Mauler Twins"), and

• Ryan Ridley (writing)

That's a lot of overlap. They even had Michael Dorn from Star Trek: TNG (1987–1994) (there he played Worf) and Reginald VelJohnson from Family Matters (1989–1998) and Die Hard (1988), and even Mark Hamill. Pretty much everyone in the voice cast was significant and known. Maybe Amazon got a discount for COVID since the actors could all do voice-work from home? ;)

Overall Bad that it was for the Young Adult target demo but good for the infrequent adult themes and ultra-violence. Very high production value and a good watch for those who like dark superhero stories. I have heard that the comic gets progressively darker, which fits for Robert Kirkman, so it will likely be worth keeping up with this show.

[kienava]

~~i stayed up til 4 am and wrote beauyasha and i regret nothing~~

When the Nein return to the tower, Beau finally has a chance to read Yasha's poem.

Awkward conversation ensues in a room full of flowers.

_______

how do i wake my spirit cold? [AO3 link]

It had taken Beau a solid three reads to convince herself that this poem was actually real, not just something that her cold-snapped brain had imagined for a fleeting sense of warmth. She’d gone from staring at the words blankly to reading slowly, scrutinizing the angles of each letter, and on her seventh read she’d discovered that it was impossible to tear her eyes off the piece of parchment in her hands. This was now the eighteenth time in a row she’d scanned over these four lines, though she’d long since memorized their contents. At this point, she was less reading a poem and more gazing at a painting. Its beautiful simplicity hit all at once, like a thin blade between the ribs.

Many months ago, Beau might have guessed that Yasha’s handwriting would resemble her intimidating appearance, or maybe even her fighting style: sharp and strong, rough strokes and firm lines. Now, the slight, slanted script on the page came as no surprise, not when Beau had all but reached out and touched the soft edges hidden under layers of rage and anguish - and shawls. Yasha was big on shawls.

Eventually, Beau knew, she would have to put this piece of paper down and stop reading, but her hands and eyes had yet to consider that idea for themselves.

Her breath stayed steady despite her sparking nerves, years of practice kicking in to steady her. After she folded that piece of parchment up, what could she possibly do? Sleep? Not a gods-damned chance. The tower was safe and still, much unlike the thumping in her chest. As skilled as she’d become at controlling her lungs and diaphragm, the ability to keep her heart calm eluded her.

She knew it was a symptom of something that she’d avoided addressing for as long as possible, a creature that would longer allow itself to be pushed off and locked up. Beau had done her best to drown it alive when she’d learned why Yasha pressed her own heart between the pages of a book to desiccate along with torn petals and broken thorns. Loving dead flowers left little room to tend a new garden.

For all Beau’s attempts to do otherwise, she kept coming back to this, perennially doomed to weather the most apocalyptic storms.

In an effort to inspire some new consideration besides poetry, Beau let the paper flutter onto her desk and took to the fighting post. She’d been curious to see how adaptable the tower’s contents really were, and she’d asked Caleb for a variety of weighted staves to train with in this rendition. She grabbed the heaviest one from its mount on the wall. Maybe if she exhausted herself by whaling on the fighting post, she’d be able to fall asleep sometime in the next several hours.

As soon as she started swinging, it was clear that her plan would be fruitless. Her muscles could go on autopilot and run through routines she knew deep in her bones, and she’d built up too much stamina fighting gnolls and ghosts and undead sea monsters to tire herself to the point of genuine exhaustion.

Despite all of her mediation training, she couldn’t shut her brain off. She’d been in research mode for weeks now, mind racing constantly to piece together theories that somehow sounded less and less wild the more their group trekked on. Even while sparring with this helpless post, she exerted more effort willing herself not to sit back down at her desk and scour between the grains of the paper Yasha had given her for clarity and truth.

She made a last-ditch effort at meditating, sitting in the middle of the room with her legs crossed, counting her inhales and exhales. It was the first technique Dairon had taught her, the simplest form of breathwork. The goal was not to control or influence the breath, but to build awareness of one’s natural pace without judgment. At the time, Beau laughed at the possibility that she could go a second without judging (herself or others). But she'd changed so much since then.

She felt herself smile, recalling a conversation from what felt like ages ago.

Thank you for not judging me, Beau.

Have you seen me? Who am I to fucking judge?

I’ve seen you. I’ve seen you a lot.

Was that it? Was that the moment that the harmless flirting had developed its own sense of gravity? That Beau had suddenly found herself tongue-tied during their most superficial conversations, yet secretly hoping for even the briefest moment alone together?

Without intention, her breath had started to line up with the endearingly crooked meter of the poem repeating infinitely in her mind. She inhaled through one line, then emptied her lungs by the end of the next.

Each time she ran through that short stanza again, more questions frayed out like a string splitting endlessly. None of the answers she sought could be found in the library. She’d only need to go one floor down, not two.

All distractions exhausted, Beau considered knocking on someone else’s door instead of seeking the one stamped with lilacs, but she couldn’t come up with a good reason to do so. Veth and Caleb would be together, huddled in front of a cozy fire and having one of those intense conversations meant only for them. Caduceus usually went to sleep early anyway, and he’d eaten a whopping dinner. No way he’d still be up. Fjord had taken up his own meditation practice, and far be it from Beau to interrupt that. Jester - well, that was just a bad idea. If Beau mentioned the poem (and there was very little chance she’d be able to talk about anything else), Jester might just drag her down to Yasha’s room and throw her through right the door.

If Yasha could be brave, so could Beau. In fights, that was the very thing that pushed her to go as hard as she did. She knew that Yasha would be there to pull her out of a giant lobster claw if her risks didn’t pay off. They had each other's backs, always.

Would that still be the case when neither of them held a weapon in their hands?

Only one way to find out.

Beau opened and closed her own door as quietly as possible. Jester had some kind of sixth sense when it came to Beau’s interactions with Yasha, and Beau really didn’t want to explain anything when she wasn’t even entirely sure what was going on herself. She whispered the command word to the lift and sank slowly to the next floor down. She was careful to keep her knock quiet, though it probably wouldn’t wake Caduceus. No promises that Jester wouldn’t somehow hear it, no matter how thick Caleb claimed the walls were.

There was a long beat before Beau heard footsteps. Her stomach flipped - had she woken Yasha up? Normally she relied on some burst of brash confidence to start a conversation, and it had already taken her nearly an hour to build up the courage to step into the hallway and onto the lift. This was too different from the casual check-ins and mid-battle flirting that had happened more often in recent weeks, and Beau forgot every normal greeting she knew when the lilac-emblazoned door swung open.

She only had one thought: “Yasha.”

“Goodnight, Beau,” Yasha said. Quickly, she added, “Not goodnight like ‘goodbye, you should leave.’ Goodnight as in good morning. Like a greeting, I mean.”

“Ha, yeah. Goodnight, I guess,” Beau replied with a little wave. This was going about as badly as possible. “Sorry, did I wake you up?”

“No, no, no. I was just - well, I cannot read Zemnian, but those books Caleb gave us have very nice covers.”

“Yeah, they’re cool,” Beau said. She had an opening here. Might as well take it. “Speaking of reading...”

Yasha raised her eyebrows.

Beau tried to swallow the dryness in her mouth. It didn’t work. “I checked out your poem.”

“Oh, you did?” Yasha asked.

“You sound surprised.”

“Maybe a little.”

Beau wasn’t sure where to go with that, and all she could come up with was a stilted laugh.

Yasha joined in with her own quiet chuckle. The way she bit her lip, lost in thought, made it clear that she was just as much at a loss for words.

This was a bad idea. Beau hadn’t been thinking straight, obviously, when she’d come down here with a million questions and no plan for how to ask them.

“Okay,” Beau said, jerking a thumb over her shoulder. “I guess I’m gonna--”

“Do you want to come in?”

Beau blinked. “What? I mean, sure. Yeah.”

Yasha stepped back from the door to open it wider, and Beau stepped inside the flower-laden room for the first time since Caleb’s magical mansion tour.

The door settled shut behind them, and they were left standing in the middle of the bright, colorful blossoms.

“So,” Yasha started. She didn’t go on.

“Nice plants,” Beau commented, nearly smacking herself across the face for it.

Fortunately, Yasha smiled at that. “Caleb really thought of everything for this place.”

Beau’s mind flashed to the mirror mounted above her bed, and for the first time in many years she had to remind herself to breathe. She was more than getting ahead of herself.

“Anyway,” Yasha said, drawing out the end of the word a little more than normal, “what brings you down to the fifth floor?”

“Ah, just got lost on my way to the kitchen, thought I’d swing by,” Beau tried.

Every time Yasha let out even a small laugh, Beau counted it as a win.

The most concrete question burning in Beau’s skull was rooted in something ugly and frightened. She asked it anyway. “So did Jester put you up to that?”

“It was her idea, yes,” Yasha admitted.

“Oh,” Beau said, not quite catching her voice from cracking.

“I shouldn’t have said that. She only helped because I asked.”

“So it was your idea?”

“Not quite. I don’t think. Not the poem thing, specifically. I told her I wanted to...do something, for you, and that is what she suggested.”

Beau fought against the urge to convince herself that those words could mean anything other than what she wanted to hear. She’d been jumping through flaming mental hoops for weeks, maybe months, trying to talk herself out of this. And then Yasha had the pleasant audacity to write her a poem.

“No one’s ever done that before. For me,” Beau reiterated. She held her hands up. “Hey, I’m no expert, but I thought it was dope.”

“No, you didn’t,” Yasha dismissed.

“No, I did.”

“You did?”

“Yeah.”

Yasha busied herself by stroking the petal of a nearby flower with her thumb, a small smile creeping in.

“Why’d you write it?” Beau asked. 

Yasha’s fingers stilled. Her gaze stayed fixed on the flower in her hand, and her slight smile grew.

“Do you have a favorite flower, Beau?”

There was the answer Beau wanted to give, and then there was the truth. In the dense quiet, the latter won out. “Not really. Kinda wish I did. Do you?”

“I think...” Yasha gently plucked the flower from its stem. “I think they are all my favorite.”

“Really?”

Yasha nodded, cradling the flower in her palm.

It was, quite possibly, the happiest Beau had ever seen her. She suddenly wished that she knew the name of this plant, of every plant in the room. If something could bring Yasha such tranquil joy, it was worth knowing. 

“The ones in this room are from all over. I’ve never even heard of some of them,” Yasha said.

“Caleb probably read about a thousand botany books just for this.”

“Probably,” Yasha laughed.

“Come on. You’ve gotta have a favorite,” Beau pushed, in the back of her mind hoping that she could use the information for future reference.

Yasha shook her head. “My book...I was keeping it for Zuala at first, but I think I am also keeping it for myself now. I want to remember the places that I’ve been and the things that happened there. Because those things have brought me here, and I am very happy about that, even if some of what happened was...not so happy. I would not be here, with all of you, without every single one of those flowers.” 

She held her hand out, presenting the plucked flower. Beau stared at the five long, carefree, white petals, tinged with a sunshiny yellow at the tips. Slowly, she reached out and was surprised to find the petals were rich and soft like velvet. She couldn’t recall ever seeing it before - maybe it was from Xhorhas.

“And,” Yasha met Beau’s eyes, “finding new favorite flowers to add to my book does not mean I forget the old ones.”

“No, it doesn’t,” Beau agreed.

“This one reminds me a lot of you, actually,” Yasha said, almost whispering to herself. 

Beau felt her heart skip. She’d never been given a poem before, and she’d certainly been compared to something so delicate and precious. She wracked her brain for something witty to say, but she’d never been very good at that around Yasha. “It does?” she choked out.

“It grows in the desert,” Yasha explained. “It's very stubborn and strong. We called it Sunsbane. Even with very little water, it survives the hottest days. The buds stay closed for many years, but the plant stays strong. The roots grow deeper than you’d ever guess just from looking at it above the surface. It can take a long time, but when the nights get cool enough, the flowers finally bloom.” She paused, sweeping her hair behind her ear. “You probably didn’t come here to hear so much about plants, though.”

Beau could very well have been in the desert herself at the moment - her mouth went dry again, and she felt like it was about a thousand degrees in that room.

Untrusting of her own ability to form words after that, she lifted the flower from Yasha’s hand, then reached up and tucked its short stem back where Yasha had fixed her hair.

“Hey,” Beau managed.

“Mhm?”

“You can tell me about plants anytime, alright?”

“Alright,” Yasha returned. “Okay.”

Beau retreated a step, realizing how close they’d been standing. “White’s kinda more your color, though. Plus, the yellow really...your eyes, it - works. Looks nice. Um, goodnight.”

There was a strange look on Yasha’s face, like she was thinking too hard.

“What?” Beau risked asking.

“Just that...I didn’t answer your question yet. About the poem.”

“Oh. Yeah. It’s cool, honestly--”

“Beau.” Yasha said her name so softly that Beau had no choice but to stop protesting.

Yasha took the flower from behind her ear and clutched it to her chest. “You should know that I like this flower very much.”

So much of Beau’s old self - the person who’d just tried to leave again - wanted to bolt for the door, but her new self locked down and stood her ground. Inhale, exhale. “I think it likes you, too,” she said weakly.

Yasha waved her hand, still holding onto the flower. “Jester said some things, and I - well, I don’t know. I didn’t think I should hear them from someone else in case they weren’t true or--”

“They are,” Beau jumped in. “I don’t know what she said, exactly, but I can guess.”

“How do you mean?”

“Like I tried not to for a while. And then that became more impossible than it already was. Just like Sunsbane, I guess. Deep roots, you know?”

“I’m sorry,” Yasha said suddenly. “I didn’t mean to keep you waiting. Not that I - I wasn’t expecting anything. You’ve surprised me in a lot of ways, is all.”

Beau couldn’t handle the guilt on Yasha’s face. It wasn’t her fault, everything that had happened to her, to them. Beau would’ve waited a thousand days in the desert if it meant letting Yasha heal and find herself.

The gap between them had shrunk again, somehow, but it was more unbearable than ever. It felt like every time they got closer by half, always lessening the space but never quite meeting. But Beau was very good at breaking things, and, for once, she could break something for good. Her palm met Yasha’s cheek, fingertips curling around a small braid hanging loosely.

“You said those flowers are pretty damn patient, right?” Beau said.

Yasha nodded almost imperceptibly, like she was afraid Beau’s hand would pull back.

“Then I think you have nothing to apologize for.”

“Still.”

“Well,” with much less confidence than she’d hoped for, Beau asked, “you gonna kiss me or what?”

Yasha’s eyes closed for a moment, her expression neutral save for the slight crease between her brows and the subtle part of her lips. When her eyes opened again, her gaze was angled down slightly, plotting a trajectory that Beau had hardly dared to dream of.

“You’re sure?” Yasha said softly.

Beau’s answer was no more than a breath of a laugh.

Yasha went on. “I just want to make sure that you are sure. I’m very sure, at this point, but that doesn’t mean that you have to be--”

Beau cut her off as gently as possible.

For a moment, Beau’s mind went blissfully blank.

Then it hit her. She was kissing Yasha.

It started soft - not tentative, but quiet.

And then, miracle of miracles, Yasha was kissing her back, and she was much less patient. She was lightning and thunder striking at once, a storm raw and deafening in its power. Beau wondered when her knees would give out under the sheer weight of it - until solid arms circled around her waist and pulled her in.

Desperate to hold onto something, Beau’s fingers wound into Yasha’s hair. Her other hand was trapped just below Yasha’s collarbone, grasping tighter until blunt nails scraped past a cloth edge and found skin.

Maybe Beau did have a favorite flower, after all.

***

[producer-miss-chips]

Analyzing Helios’s Words- About Kiro and Helios’s Origin Story

Please be warned that this theory includes spoilers from a few of Kiro's dates and from the general story!

So after finishing Chapter 21, I decided to try and share this theory that started when I heard Helios's words.

The writing here made it clear that Helios is speaking from personal experience. His words are a mix of earnestness, harshness and worry.

And since Helios is actually Kiro (somewhat xD), we can infer from that a bit more about Kiro's past.

Discerning Kiro's Past

From bits of information we learn throughout the dates and stories, it's clear Kiro grew up alone. He hints to that a few times: whether the fact that he doesn't know his own birthday, (as seen on his "Birthday Date"), the fact that he always had to spend holidays and birthdays alone (as seen in "New Spring Date" and "Confession Date"), or his story of wishing to "not always be alone" (in his "Old Friend Date").

In his "Confession Date", Kiro pretty much says this fact outright:

(Screenshot from Lucien's Wife's Youtube channel.)

In this screenshot, I want to point out one more thing: the start of his sentence.

"My memory may be a little hazy..."

Psychology has proven that when someone experiences something very traumatic, their body may try and forget what happened and when. So the fact that Kiro experiences memory problems about his childhood, may mean that he went through some pretty harsh stuff as a kid. These experiences were so scarring, his body decided that it was better to forget them than remember.

I mean, just the fact that he had to spend his whole childhood alone is really harsh. He literally had no one to turn to. You can really see that in his story in "Old Friend Date".

We know Kiro had a mentor who was really important to him. Kiro may not talk about him a lot, but from the little we've seen, it's not hard to see how much he influenced Kiro's life. Heck, he even named Kiro.

It almost seems like this guy was Kiro's father, in some way. Or the closest thing to a father figure that Kiro had.

But then he disappeared, and Kiro was left all alone. For years Kiro never really had someone he truly trusted. YEARS. Only when MC entered his life again, did he finally have someone he could lean on.

It's impossible to go through such a harsh experience without being affected. You have to develop some way to cope with it, and Kiro found his way: happiness, love and music.

But that doesn't mean the darker part doesn't exist.

And that's where Helios comes in.

Kiro vs. Helios

As said before, it's impossible to go through something traumatic without getting scarred. And, if you miraculously manage to survive what you went through, you learn to develop a thick hide.

Both Kiro and Helios show signs of this: Kiro in a more subtle way (he never complains, for instance), while Helios... is outright about it (does he even try to hide his harsh behavior?).

Everyone has a dark side: even angels like Kiro. Helios is this side, a person that stemmed from everything Kiro experienced. He's the side Kiro hides, and he shows us our blonde angel has a lot more depth than it may seem on the surface.

After everything Kiro experienced, he had a choice: do the hard thing and be kind to everyone, in order to fix what he went through; or close off and just stay away from any person who could be a threat. Kiro chose to go the kind way, spreading love and laughter to everyone. That doesn't mean that he couldn't have chosen the latter. It doesn't mean that he doesn't feel Helios inside him. If that was the case, how could Kiro even become Helios?

(As mentioned in this theory, the Helios in chapters 20-21 may actually be who Kiro would have become if he didn't choose this path.)

And then, we have the rest of Helios's words.

For convenience purposes, I'm dividing this into parts:

Use your strength, every method you can think of.

As pointed out before, both Helios and Kiro have strengths. Kiro's strength, being kind against all odds, may be less appreciated, but that doesn't make him any less impressive. And that doesn't make Helios's cold facade bad, either. It just means that they have different advantages:

Kiro has the strength to overcome his demons and give to others against all odds.

Helios has the strength to make sure others don't mess with him.

So when Kiro's strengths don't work out, he reverts to Helios and vice-versa. That's how, at the end of the day, Kiro uses all his strength. He knows one way is never the complete answer, so he has no problem trying the other way too.

The difference in these situations is which side is more dominant: the light one, or the dark one; Kiro, or Helios.

For example, the story shows us how Kiro is tangled up in Black Swan, even after he chose the path of kindness. From the endings of some of the earlier chapters, we can see quite enough proof: how Kiro wrote Helios's name in something relating to Black Swan, how Helios shows up amongst the organization, and many more.

I mean, in Chapter 17 Kiro says he fights Black Swan for MC. He had to have some way, some connection to them for him to do that, right?

These facts further prove my point: Kiro was never completely perfect. He always had a Helios side to him, MC just never got to see it. And, maybe, we can say the same about Helios: he was never completely bad. Otherwise, how would the Kiro moment have happened in Chapter 17?

My conclusion from this part, and this sentence of Helios, is that over here we can see how Kiro navigates the world. He uses the strengths of both his identities, and by that is flexible enough to use any method he can think of (Kiro method vs. Helios method) to do it.

That way, he learned not to be weak.

Abandon your past... even abandon yourself.

Kiro never really talks about his past. He prefers living in the moment, spending the best time he can with MC. And when he does mention a tidbit about his experiences, it's in one of two situations:

A casual mention or something he could laugh off.

When he's at his most vulnerable with MC.

Examples for the first part can be when he first mentions he doesn't know his birthday in the "Birthday Date". The way he said it sounded a lot like a happy coincidence. "Hey, since I don't really know my own birthday, let's celebrate our birthdays together!"

As you can see, this harsh fact is hidden very well in his words. He could've said it in a self-pitying way, but he chose not to. It almost seems like he's afraid of being 100% vulnerable with MC.

We'll get to that later, but first let me point out an example for one of Kiro's vulnerable.

In Kiro's "Old Friend Date", he tells MC a lot about how lonely he felt when he was 16. It's a heartbreaking story: he was just a kid, making his second album, but still felt lost. Because he had no one to guide him. So one day, he went to the shrine and wished to not always be alone.

Pay attention to the wording: Kiro didn't ask not to be alone, he asked not to always be alone. This word may not seem like much, but it shows a lot.

In his position, no one would blame Kiro if he would have wished not to be alone. But the angel was so desperate, he asked to not always be alone. That's the equivalent of saying "I know this may be an inconvenience to you, so I'll make it easier on you. I'm not asking to have someone constantly by my side, but I need someone to spend at least a bit of time with. Please."

The reason I'm emphasizing how harsh his reality was, is to raise awareness to this part, and how much Kiro downplays the whole story:

The moment Kiro sees the gravity of his story sink in, he laughs it off. Notice the amount of reasons he gave as to why MC shouldn't worry.

I was purposely exaggerating to make it interesting.

I was a teenager. I didn't know what I was doing. Now I'm much more mature! It was just something stupid that would never bother me today.

He was so desperate for MC not to take him at his word, that he gave two reasons as to why she shouldn't make a big deal out of it. Once again, Kiro does this, even if he was vulnerable at the start.

And even in other moments, where he's completely vulnerable with MC, he changes the topic really quickly. The moment the information sinks in, he's already changed the topic, laughing as if nothing ever happened.

So, in both situations mentioned above, we see how Kiro is never fully vulnerable. This means two things:

Kiro has trust issues because of his experiences.

He prefers running away from his past.

We already touched conclusion 1 before (somewhat), so for this we'll address only conclusion number two. It's an important point we'll come back to later.

Helios is a completely different story.

In the short amount of time MC spent with Helios, we learned almost as much as we did in all the time with Kiro. Just see how much Helios hinted to in these few sentences.

So saying that he's running from his past would be a lie. On the contrary: I think Helios is so connected to his past, he won't let anyone in. He just can't ignore the warnings his traumas whisper in his ear.

But there's one thing Helios does run away from, and that's himself.

One of the first recurring things Helios tells MC is "I'm NOT Kiro". In Chapter 17, every time MC mentions that possibility he denies it: over, and over, and over again. And at the end of MC's time with Kiro (in that chapter), when Kiro turns bavk to Helios, it describes how the tenderness in Kiro's eyes is replaced with cold apathy.

If Helios completely forgets what he, as Kiro, felt toward MC, I think it's safe to say that he's turning his back on himself.

So while we could say that Kiro is abandoning his past, Helios abandons himself.

And now, for the last sentence:

Helios is right. If MC can't survive in this cruel world, the harsh place he endured, then she has no place to be there. Because he grew up in a dog-eats-dog world, where every day was a fight.

And that is why Kiro chose to sacrifice himself for her, as stated in Chapter 17. He knew that harsh world didn't suit MC. He wanted her to stay safe and live in her bubble of happiness, give her a bit of peace and quiet, while HE faced the cruelty MC was fighting.

While Kiro did transform to Helios a few times before Chapter 14, it seems like it was for short bursts. But now, his transformation is for much longer: and it's all for MC.

But he can't protect MC forever, and it seems like Helios has started to realize that.

Thank you for reading this theory/analysis! I hope you liked it, and I'd love to hear what you think! ❤

[demaury]

defying gravity (5.5k)

“I’ve lied. To you.” 

He turns his head to Eliott, who suddenly seems far too interested by the tobacco packet he exhumes from his pocket to look at him straight in the eye. Lucas watches as he tucks a filter tip between his lips and goes on to fill the roll.

“If that’s the moment you admit you’re a psycho who followed me all the way from Paris, it couldn’t have come at a better time, I’m ready to die.”

OR. Lucas hates everything, but perhaps not everyone. 

You know, it’s almost funny, when you think about it.

Three days ago, he’d never have guessed that there’s a single thing in the world that could be worse than the idea of his dad’s remarriage. And yet here he is. Hiding from the crowd of family friends and family members behind a grey Audi, dressed as a fucking penguin, constantly trying to loosen the knot of the shitty tie everyone has insisted for him to wear — all the while riding a spectacular hangover on what’s probably the warmest spring day ever.

It shouldn’t be this hot already. Not in fucking April.

His hand shoots up to wipe away a drop of sweat rolling down the back of his neck, just above the collar of his dress-shirt.

It’s a nightmare.

Everything is just so noisy and so- so peopley. He adjusts his sunglasses on his nose, and reaches for the water bottle he managed to score from a disbelieved waiter at the bar to take a sip. Wherever his gaze lands, it’s like someone is looking back and is ready to make conversation — hence why he sought refuge behind a fucking car, far, far away from the tent, because that’s just how much he needs to avoid people at the moment. They’re all so cheerful, chatting eagerly around a glass of champagne, and between the town hall ceremony and the huge-ass country house his dad has ranted for the occasion, he’s lost count of how many ‘Lucas honey you’ve changed so much!’ have been shot his way. Nice of them all to collectively ignore that although he’s not exactly tall, he still got taller since the last time he saw any of these people.

A few kids are scattered around, playing football, and he recognizes one of the ten-year-old girls as his now-stepmother’s daughter. Which probably makes her his stepsister, now that he thinks about it. Fuck. Call him slow, but it’s never really sunk in up until now. They are all playing like there’s no tomorrow, running and screeching and yelling and screaming some more, and he grits his teeth in a wince as a hammer pounds against his frontal lobe with every single glass-shattering sound they manage to produce. It’s probably for the best he doesn’t have a car here, otherwise he would have hopped in and driven back to Paris before his dad would even think about searching for him — although to be fair it’d surely take a while before that happens.

His eyes dart to the side when he hears footsteps approaching, already ready to tell whoever it is to go fuck themselves, when his stomach clenches brutally and his eyes widen behind his sunglasses. He has to do a double-take because it is not fucking happening, right?

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” he hears himself mutter.

Problem is, he’s not the only one to hear it. The gorgeous-looking dude walking in fucking slow-motion on the gravel path near-by hears it too, and soon there’s a pair of grey eyes landing on him. Lucas mentally thanks the sunglasses on his nose — how else would he be able to handle that look, now that he’s sober? The guy’s pace falters about a meter away from the Audi Lucas is sitting against, a small frown of confusion making his brow furrow.

Lucas sighs and pushes his sunglasses up on his head. It’s always nice to know that whatever you do, the universe still has some jokes in store for your miserable existence. Of all the what-the-fuck experiences he’s had in his life, this one is probably a solid top-three.

Grey-eyes-dude stares back at him, and his gaze narrow when realization downs on him. “Okay, just so you know, I didn’t follow you all the way here,” he guy says, sounding almost defensive.

What’s his name again? Lucas racks his brain in search of an answer, but he’s not sure they’ve exchanged names at all in the first place. That being said he’s not entirely sure they didn’t. Nice job, brain. In the meantime, he makes a point to look unimpressed. Like it’s his daily lot to have one-night-stands, stalkers, and goddamn models following him around, hours away from the city.

“Didn’t even think of it,” he shrugs, hoping to strike casual.

The guy looks vaguely embarrassed as he drapes his jacket over his arm. Funny how he wasn’t so careful last night about literally any of their clothes. Lucas grabs his water bottle, maybe just because he needs to do something, anything at all, but as he takes a sip the guy’s still standing there, looking like that, with his navy slacks and light-blue button-up, and believe it or not but it’s surprisingly hard to make eye-contact with a guy who had his dick inside you less than twelve hours ago.

Like, seriously. When it’s not an exclusive relationship situation, it’s the epitome of w-

Hold the fuck on.

A weird feeling creeps up his spine.

What is he doing here? Not in a fuck-he’s-creepy kind of way, but in a fuck-this-is-family-only kind of way. He doesn’t know half of the people who’re under the tent. Let alone those who weren’t there for the pre-ceremony chit-chat. Fuck, what if he’s one of his cousins? Did he just bang one of his fucking cousins? He tries counting but he doesn’t even remember how many of them he’s supposed to-

Shit he’s started to talk, Lucas freezes as Mr. Fuck-Don’t-Be-My-Cousin is already mid-sentence.

“What?”, he calls out dumbly, cutting him off.

“The bride,” the guy says again, and he gestures towards the tent like Lucas can possibly forget there’s a wedding going on. “She’s my sister’s godmother.”

Oh. Okay. That’s better.

Not a cousin. Good.

Go-od.

He presses his lips together with a nod. “Small world,” he mumbles. It’s not like he’s actively trying to be sarcastic, but that’s just the way it sounds like. Whatever. There’s an awkward silence stretching, until his slow brain catches up. “That’s my dad,” he simply offers with a vague gesture of the hand. “The groom. Or whatever that’s called when it’s not the first time around.” He folds his legs and brings his knees close to his chest, letting his eyes wander away.

“Why are you hiding here then?”, the guy asks and Lucas rolls his eyes to himself. He’s really tempted to tell him that them banging last night doesn’t qualify as an obligation to make small-talks on cue at formal gatherings. “Shouldn’t you be like, celebrating out there?”

“I’m celebrating,” he counters, and when his one-night-stand-turned-shrink cocks an eyebrow, he waves his water bottle. He’s sitting flat on his ass on a patch of grass, desperately trying to let the world forget he’s ever existed — which is working spectacularly, obviously —, it’s quite noticeable he’s living his best life at the moment. “Fine, I needed a bit of quiet. Hangover and all. Happy?”

Praying that his dad chokes on the wedding-cake by the end of the day is definitely an activity that can keep it busy for a couple of hours anyway. Not that it’s his business. Or anybody’s.

The guy clears his throat. “Right,” he says, and he offers a small shrug. “I’m going to, uh, greet everyone.”

It sounds almost as a question and Lucas turns his face away, putting his sunglasses back on his nose with a noncommittal noise. He pretends to find an interest in the kids’ messy football game, which for some reason seems to have turned into a kickball game in the meantime, to avoid following him with his eyes as he walks away.

*

He has to leave his hiding spot, eventually. Not that he’s dying to.

The afternoon has already long merged into early evening as he does so, and the sun setting has made it much more complicated to stay outside in a simple dress-shirt without his teeth starting to clatter. He gives a few tight smiles as he makes his way under the tent, where everybody is cruising around and reading the nametags to find out about the sitting arrangements.

His name is two tables away from the main table, which he should be grateful about, he guesses. The last thing he needs is to end up squeezed in-between his dad’s already half-drunk witness and his stepmother’s sister. He might be an adult, legally speaking, but there’s a limit to the amount of adult-bullshit he can go through in a single day and he’s already dangerously dangling off the edge as it is, there’s no need to push any more than that. He lets his eyes wander on the other nametags on each side of him. There’s one with his paternal cousins’ name and another one he doesn’t recognize — Eliott.

Maybe it’s from Marjorie’s side, he thinks offhandedly.

Who cares.

He’s about to slouch into his seat when a small huff makes his head swivel to the side. His hook-up from last night is staring at him, hands shoved in his pockets like he’s just walked straight of an Armani campaign. “I’m going to start thinking you’re the one following me,” he says, cocking an eyebrow, and when Lucas frowns, he takes a step closer and pointedly draws the chair next to his own like it’s really no bother.

Eliott. So he’s Eliott. Great. Nice. Awesome.

“You wish,” Lucas retorts, and as much as this guy is triggering his fight-or-flight instincts, he tries to shove them back down as he sits down as well.

Hear him out. He’s not big on random hook-ups. He doesn’t do well with the whole no-strings attached bullshit, so throwing himself at a goddamn stranger isn’t something he does. He banged a random guy once.

Fucking once.

Jesus that will teach him to think with his dick.

Maybe it’s all that sunshine outside that grilled his brain but he’s sure he can feel him stare at him — probably just to test his nerves, like the rest of the world seems inclined to do. When he throws a quick glance to the side, Eliott nonchalantly looks away, his hands resting calmly on his thighs, and Lucas rolls his eyes to himself. No one has to know they’ve ever met each other anyway — and even then, ‘meeting’ is a bit of a strong word. Not that it’s such a problem or that he’s ashamed or anything, there’s just literally nothing to say. Sure, the sex was great. But that’s literally it. At this point he’s not even sure he remembers what they had to drink.

What are you concerned about anyway?, a voice snickers. He can be perfectly chill about it too. No problem. Why would that be a problem? Because on a scale of 10 Eliott happens to be a solid 15? Hell, he should be bragging about it, if anything. But there aren’t many people to brag about it with in the first place, so. The silence stretches between them and Lucas begrudgingly takes in his surroundings. A brunette in a floral-patterned jumpsuit rounds their table, and from the corner of his eye he can see her nudging Eliott in the shoulder. “Hey, mom wants us to take a selfie with Marjorie.”

“When did she become obsessed with those?”, Eliott grumbles without budging, but another nudge gets him rising from his seat with a sigh.

There’s an unintentional eye-contact as Eliott is leaving the table, but Lucas’ eyes automatically dart onto the three glasses sitting in front of him. It’s like they’re making fun of his hangover. Ah ah ah you should have gotten drunk tonight.

Well, maybe he’s gonna do that.

Maybe he’ll just steal a bottle of whisky or whatever they were offering at the bar and down it by himself in the bedroom waiting for him inside the house. He grumpily digs out his phone and starts scrolling through his IG feed and his twitter timeline. It’s already near impossible to drown out the noises all around, but it gets particularly complicated when the few cousins mentioned on the nametags come to his table to settle in their designated seats.

“Shit, Lulu,” his cousin Charline exclaims as soon as she’s done adjusting her frizzy red hair, “we’ve been looking for you for hours.”

He gestures vaguely. “I was there. Talking. With people.” Hiding from you all.

Her brother Nicolas sits next to her, and two more girls slide into the remaining chairs. He’s not good with faces but he’s 100% sure they are from his stepmother’s side. There’s a bit of an awkward silence at first and a few attempts at small-talk, only disturbed by the ‘thank you’ Charline chirps happily when a waiter spinning around the tables like a professional octopus drops a freezing cold water bottle and two bottles of wine at the center of their table, next to the centerpiece.

“Who’s Eliott?” Charline wonders, frowning, as she leans closer to peer at the nametag next to him, and Lucas reclines against his backrest with a mental huff when her hair hits him in the face.

One of the two girls in front of him grins. “Oh, we got Eliott? I thought we had Gaby. He’s her brother.”

“Marjo is her godmother, right?” The girl nods and Charline turns to him excitedly, hopping from one topic to another like she’s paid to do that. “Hey, we didn’t get to talk yet. How are things going for you?”

Awesome. I drunk like a moron last night and I almost missed my train because I couldn’t walk straight this morning. Oh, and the guy I slept with on an impulse is five minutes away from sitting his ass next to me for the next six hours to come. So exciting indeed. He doesn’t even know why it’s a big deal. Probably because he’s a man of principles. Yes. And the principle of one-night-stands is precisely not to stick around long enough to give the other person the time to regret their choices.

He gives her an unimpressed look and a no-less impressed shoulder raise. “It’s fine.”

He reaches for the water bottle to fill the biggest wine-glass at his disposal, when Eliott swiftly slides in the seat next to him. There’s a round of ‘oh hey’ ‘hi’ ‘I’m Eliott’ ‘it’s written on the nametag’ ‘oh yeah’ that Lucas is trying his best not to partake in, which isn’t made any easier by Charline’s throaty laugh that surprisingly enough (note the irony) gets really fast onto his nerves.

“I’m working in an art gallery,” Eliott says at one point.

There’s a whistle. “Shit, that sounds serious,” Nicolas observes.

Did he mention that Nico’s sense of responsibilities is non-existent? Last he heard of him, a few years ago, he was trying to pick a college with a good party scene. If he had been born American, he’d be your typical fuckboy lurking around the frathouse at 25 — Lucas himself is not exceptionally ambition-driven himself, but there’s a limit.

“It’s mostly sending emails,” Eliott huffs a laugh. “And running around before the automatic alarm sets off at night to get everything in order.”

Charline goes onto flaunting her degree in sociology, like she didn't move to Quebec because it’s easier over there, and Lucas is this close to roll his eyes — but instead he bites it down, because he’s survived this long without causing a diplomatic incident to let it all go to waste. The conversation picks up without him. He keeps himself busy with his phone and his plate, while everyone else chit-chats obnoxiously. They talk about family memories and Christmas mornings, about vacations at the beach, about missing swim-trunks stories and kindergarten tantrums, and with every single one of them he feels his grip tightening around his fork. A day to celebrate, my ass, he thinks bitterly, stabbing a piece of his food.

“Wine?”

His eyes meet Eliott’s, who waves the bottle of red wine.  

He shakes his head. “Thanks, I’m gonna stick to water,” he mutters, and suddenly it’s like everybody remembers he exists, for better or for worse. Eliott is busy filling the glass of one of the girls but he shoots him a glare anyway. It’s his fault. It has to be.

“You’re still a student, right?” Charline asks between two bites of the first course.

“I graduated last year,” he replies stiffly, travelling a piece of his fish terrine in his plate, and since she’s still not looking somewhere else he elaborates: “I’m on a six-month internship in a private cabinet.”

“Oh, yeah! Accounting, right?”

“Architecture.”

There are plenty of reasons why she wouldn’t remember his major, objectively he knows that, but it goes with the fact that she barely remembers his age and that he’s practically sure the last time they texted was for Christmas two years ago — it only fuels his desire to flee. His attention drifts away to the main table, where his dad and his new wife stand up from their respective seats to start greeting each table. They’re lucky enough (joke) to be from the main family, so it’s a given one of them will drop by their table in a little while, and he’d rather die than have his dad looking all pleased and cheerful asking him why he’s not having fun.

“I need some fresh air,” he mutters to no one in particular, as he grabs his jacket and his phone before leaving the table.

Not like anyone will care.

Not like he gives a fuck if they do.

*

Since he’s not a fan of losing himself in the woods near-by and that hiding in the improvised parking-lot has gotten a lot creepier now that it’s dark as a pit, he’s opted for the bedroom that has been assigned to him for the weekend. At first, when his dad and his stepmother started talking about the sleeping arrangements, they had talked about him sharing with at least one if not two cousins, but he had been petty enough to say that if he had to share, he might as well not come at all.

He didn’t mean it. Like, sharing was really no big deal. He was just trying to push until his dad eventually burst and so he got a reason to dodge this whole bullshit altogether. But his dad had not burst. He had not done much, aside from sighing, shrugging, and saying that he’d get a bedroom to himself.

What a fucking joke.

He’s sitting on the balcony, trying to calm his nerves with a cigarette, when there’s a small knock on the door. He turns half-heartedly, only to stare at Eliott standing in the doorway, one shoulder nonchalantly resting against the doorframe like he’s always belonged here.

“How did you find me?”, he grumbles.

Eliott offers a small smirk in return. “Trust me I’ve majored in finding quiet spots to sulk.” He seems to hesitate, before he takes a few tentative steps in the room.

Lucas swallows down a huff. He’s half-tempted to tell him that he isn’t about to explode, but he simply turns away. “I’m not sulking. And you didn’t have to come, I’m fine.” Even if he flings himself off the railing, it’s only the first floor anyway. The worst that could happen would be for him to break his back. Or a leg. In short, more shit to deal with. It’d deter anyone.

Eliott footsteps grow closer, and soon he’s stepping on the balcony. “Do you want me to go?”

Not really. Maybe a little. He can’t really make his mind.

“Whatever,” he shrugs, vaguely gesturing with the hand holding the cigarette, and it makes the smoke draw intricate patterns in the air.

He’s not a heavy smoker. He’s just your typical stress-smoker who needs some nicotine in his system to avoid a major breakdown — he always ends up breaking down anyway, but whatever. Eliott seems to ponder for a hot minute, and Lucas is this close to burst and yell ‘in or out’ when he eventually brings himself to sit down next to him. They stay quiet for a moment, the silence only disturbed by the loud conversations coming from under the tent.

“I’ve lied. To you.”

He turns his head to Eliott, who suddenly seems far too interested by the tobacco packet he exhumes from his pocket to look at him straight in the eye. Lucas watches as he tucks a filter tip between his lips and goes on to fill the roll with tobacco.

“If that’s the moment you admit you’re a psycho who followed me all the way from Paris, it couldn’t have come at a better time, I’m ready to die.”

“Nah,” Eliott lets out, his lighter flickering as he lights up the cigarette a moment later. “I wasn’t at your table. I switched the nametags when no one was looking.”

He doesn’t really know why but it draws a small snort from him, as he tugs on his cigarette. It’s not that he hates having him around, he just didn’t expect him to exist outside of the bar from last night. It was the deal, right? He’s pretty sure it was. He remembers flashes of skin and ragged breathes, he remembers fisting his hand into Eliott’s hair and he remembers creeping out of his flat in the middle of the night. There’s a reason he didn’t leave his number behind — but at the same time it sort of balances out with the rest, and he can’t pinpoint why.

Except that now Eliott is sitting there, and he exists, and the leather jacket has left way to a suit jacket, and his hair is all combed. It’s weird, Lucas decides.

“I wish you had removed mine instead of yours,” he mumbles. At least it would have kept the cousins away.

Eliott huffs a laugh, glancing at him. “Way too obvious. You’re the son of the groom, I’m sure they paid extra attention to where you’d be sitting.”

Lucas slowly shakes his head with a snort. “You’ve got a high opinion of my dad.”

Like everybody else, he almost adds. No one is really able to fathom how much that charming and easy-going man can be borderline cold and uncaring when he sets his mind to be — and that’s even without mentioning that he’s never even bothered acknowledging he’s gay. It’s just like Lucas never came out.

A group loudly erupts in laughter under the tent, and Lucas’ eyebrow twitches in exasperation as he puffs out a cloud of smoke. “Can I ask something?”, Eliott asks, thoughtfully considering the cigarette between his fingers. “You don’t have to answer.” Lucas shrugs, letting some ash fall into the empty plastic cup he found on the way up here. “Why did you come at all if you don’t like them?”

It draws another snort from him. He makes it sound like it’s… yeah, like it’s easy. “Peer pressure,” he says neutrally. There’s an ocean between not wanting to attend this wedding and making it plain, and actually getting away with not going. He heaves a sigh and rubs the back of his neck. “It’s not that I don’t like them. They just… You know. They’re all nice and fun until you actually need them.”

He brings his cigarette to his lips and tries to focus on the gulp making its way in his chest to avoid thinking about his eyes and the way they’re starting to sting. He presses his lips tighter. “My mom. She’s schizophrenic. Half of the people you see here were once part of her family too and I can count on one hand how many of them actually offered to help whenever shit would go down.”

And that includes my dad. Between those who clearly didn’t want to deal with it and those who kept acting like she was a ticking bomb whenever she was in the same room as them, there weren’t many left to spend Christmas with or throw birthday parties. Shitty annual family gatherings stopped when he was 14 and no one really tried to push for them to be maintained. Every kind of relationship needs work on both parts to function, even family, and he’s not the only one to blame for shutting them out.

Eliott doesn’t say anything, and he doesn’t know if it’s good or bad. He doesn’t really care anyway. It’s not like he’s expecting anything from him. He puts out his cigarette against the ground and drops it in the plastic cup.

“I know what it feels like,” Eliott muses, exhaling a puff of smoke. Lucas gives him a questioning look, and Eliott answers with a twist of his mouth. “The ticking-bomb thing. People dropping you.” He has a sigh, looking away as he brushes invisible specks of dust off his pants. “It sucks big time. Even when you think you’re over it, it still stings.”

It stings. “Yeah.” They fall silent again, and Lucas folds his legs against his chest to try and warm himself a bit, resting his chin on his knees. “You should probably head back anyway, my mood isn’t gonna improve in a matter of seconds.” It’s not because he’s dreaming to be literally anywhere else on the planet at the moment that he has to ruin the party for everyone, he guesses.

“Don’t worry, I’m not expecting anything else,” Eliott scoffs. Lucas shoots him a half-surprised, half-offended glance. “I mean, I offered you a drink last night and you straight up went ‘no names no talking’ on me.”

It should make him feel self-conscious. Embarrassed. But instead he finds himself huffing a laugh and the smile on Eliott’s lips broadens. “Is that a laugh I’m hearing?”

“Fuck off, you’re not that interesting.”

Eliott hums with an eyebrow raise and puts out his cigarette. He keeps the smoke trapped in his mouth for a second, then he tips his head back and releases it in a long puff swirling away in the darkness. It shouldn’t look so good and yet. It’s probably easier to look sexy while smoking when you look like an Armani ad printed on glossy paper.

“It kinda bummed me out that you didn’t leave a number,” Eliott says, quietly, and for a moment Lucas is too confused to put 2 and 2 together. He turns his head eventually, meeting Lucas’ eyes, and his only response at first is to twist his mouth a little.

“I’m not really an expert in one-night-hook-ups, but isn’t that the point?”

Eliott ponders the answer, and eventually gives a casual shrug. “Dunno. I’m not good with those either. I get attached, things get messy.” He punctuates it with a wrinkle of his nose before looking away, right in front of him.

Lucas’ voice sounds a little rough when he braces himself to ask. “Is that what’s happening?”

Why would someone like Eliott even get attached to someone like him anyway? That’s fucking surreal. It feels like he’s being trapped in a prank show. Will hot-dude-Eliott manage to make regular-Lucas believe it in the next two hours? Stay tuned to find out! Eliott glances at him sideways, and the way he ducks his head, it seems like he’s purposefully trying to make himself smaller. “Will you freak out if I say maybe?”

“A little, probably,” he admits. About your taste in men, definitely. Eliott doesn’t reply anything, and for some reason he finds himself leaning to the side a little, and gives him a slight nudge of the shoulder. “Relax I’m joking.”

“A laugh and a joke?” Eliott deadpans. “Turns out you’re quite the life of the party after all. Can’t wait to see you run downstairs on the dancefloor.”

As if. Lucas lets out a snort and shakes his head. “I’m not moving unless they play Emile & Images.”

As soon as the name dangles off his mouth, he knows he could very well be screwed. Knowing what crappy DJs like the one currently working in the backyard like to play, it’s a given that Jusqu'au bout de la nuit is on the track list. Eliott seems to have followed the exact same train of thoughts, because he starts laughing, his shoulders relaxing and a large smile brightening his features.

“That’s literally two tracks away, no take-backs,” he snickers, but when Lucas rolls his eyes and huffs a laugh, it comes out shaky. Eliott pauses, frowning. “Dude, you’re freezing. C’mon, let’s go inside,” he says, immediately rising on his feet.

Dude. Is he fucking serious? Lucas stares at him with wide eyes from his spot on the ground, not budging. “Did you really just ‘dude’ me?”, he scoffs, lifting himself off the floor. Seriously, if it’s his way of friend-zoning all of a sudden, hello whiplash.

“I was trying to be casual, thanks for ruining it,” Eliott retorts. He heads inside the bedroom without looking back and Lucas closes the bay-window behind him as he steps in. “Plus, I thought names were off the table anyway.”

Lucas waves dismissively as he sits down on the bed. “That was before you showed up here and we both had a nametag attached to our plate.”

Maybe he’s just not made for one-night-stands. Maybe that’s just the universe’s way of telling ‘you suck at those, get a grip’. Yeah. Probably. After a while Eliott joins him, settling at the foot of the bed. There’s a silence stretching a little, and he doesn’t know what to think of it now. They can hear the music coming from under the tent, distant and muffled but far too present for either of them to be able to forget about it.

He presses his lips together and glances at Eliott. “Lucas,” he says eventually, holding out a hand still tingling a little from the cold, “22 years of daddy issues crammed into a surprisingly muscular body.”

It gets him a chuckle, rough but sweet. “Eliott,” he says, squeezing his hand. “Your local, problematic dubstep fan with a gravity problem.”

“Dubstep,” Lucas repeats, raising an eyebrow.

“Dubstep,” Eliott nods, unabashed, almost defiant.

He hasn’t let go of his hand yet.

Lucas isn’t quite sure he wants him to.

*

He stirs awake with a small grunt when the mattress starts dipping. It’s weird. He doesn’t even remember falling asleep in the first place. A rustle of fabric accompanies Eliott’s movements while he sits up to sweep his phone unlocked, still clad in his button up and his dark slacks.

“Sorry,” Eliott whispers sheepishly as he glances at him. “Didn’t mean to wake you up.”

Lucas pushes himself onto his back, drowsily reaching to rub a hand over his face. He’s slept with clothes on before, but never with a suit — and it sucks. The sleeves of his shirt are too tight, his pants feel like sandpaper and his belt is digging into his midsection.

“What time is it?”, he mumbles approximatively, but it turns out a bit more muffled and with fewer words than that.

The room is completely dark, aside from Eliott’s phone, and he no longer hears any music outside. Last time he remembers checking the time was… maybe around 2? 3? He didn’t do it often though. There was surprisingly enough of Eliott to keep him busy, conversation wise. That’s probably why they are laying down the way they are, in the middle of the bed.

“Almost 6. I have to go,” Eliott says, sitting on the edge. The look of confusion Lucas sends him apparently prompts him to add: “Marjorie rented a cottage for my parents, and my sister’s looking for me.”

Everything is a bit blurry, though, and what he gathers at first isn’t exactly a full sentence. But the moment Eliott’s starting to move, he reaches out, hand winding onto his hip a bit haphazardly. It’s too dark for him to be able to see anything, so he has no way of knowing what Eliott’s reaction might have possibly been when he mumbles: “Can you stay?”

Please. He doesn’t add it, for some reason, which is weird because his mom raised him well in the end, but Eliott doesn’t seem to mind that it’s lacking. “Yeah, okay,” he says after a moment. There’s another outpour of bright light that makes Lucas squeeze his eyes shut and bury his face into the comforter, when Eliott unlocks his phone to type a quick text.

That’s absolutely not something he should ask for. That he shouldn’t even be in a position to ask for.

But he wants to be selfish — just this time. The light goes out as quickly as it arrived, leaving him completely blind as Eliott lays back down, and it feels almost wrong not to be able to look at him when he just knows they’re so close. But again, his eyes are heavy and his mind a bit fuzzy. He’s almost drifting back asleep already by the time he feels gentle fingers grazing his cheekbone.

“Lucas,” he whispers, so softly that he almost thinks it’s not meant for him to hear at first. “I think I’m falling for you.”

“You and your gravity problems,” he mumbles with a small huff, but he leans into the touch anyway.

Maybe something good can still come out of this, is the last thing he thinks before sleep takes over.  

[9w1ft]

this post is for any swiftie who is on the fence about this, or anyone who has heard about kaylor for the first time. please allow me a few minutes of your time.. pretty please with a cherry on top? i see you. ready to scroll past this. please. in this moment. please. give it a read. two years ago i was right where you were. please look this time. it is so important to what is going on now and taylor needs you to understand fully about scooter.

we are at a turning point. taylor’s life’s work was just bought up by scooter braun and it is important for everyone to read this perspective because as swifties we have to understand the full gravity of the situation in order to best defend taylor against her worst nightmare. you may think the kimye situation is terrible enough, but add to it this:

Scooter has been a manager for a one joshua kushner for the better part of this decade. as in, the brother of the guy who is running major arms of our whitehouse without qualification. scooter’s job is to improve his client’s image as it relates to securing foreign investments as josh is a uh.... ‘venture capitalist’ in charge of investing his family’s assets. if you’ve been looking into scooter, go ahead and look into him too.

josh started being seen with then 19 year old (think about that) rising star karlie kloss. considering the amount of push in tabloids that this otherwise nobody started getting, these two are easily identifiable as a PR relationship. he does work with many overseas investors, and karlie helps bring them in where josh alone cannot (please take the time to look up about PR relationships and how common they are. also look up ‘bearding’ and how common it is to set up a PR relationship so that a manager can better mask who a client loves, should that be problematic to a target demographic)

taylor and karlie were formally introduced to one another at the end of 2013. they became best best friends. inseparable. seen together everywhere. anytime they are together their happiness is palpable.

did you know there was a slice of pavement in new york city by where karlie lives with the initials TS♡KK engraved? they were thick as thieves!

i am not going to ask you to believe taylor and karlie dated one another. and if you believe that, i’m not going to ask you to believe they are still together. as for the first point, well, the visual history between them (and between taylor and other women integral to her life story) is overwhelming and if you would like to look at what i feel are the most straightforward stuff browse my blog @kaylorwelcomecenter and beyond.

but i digress. let’s assume taylor and karlie were just best best friends, then

...well, okay, they got caught kissing (we think that’s what Dancing With Our Hands Tied is about). but let’s say they were drunk? regardless, the smiles don’t lie—i think it goes without saying that taylor and karlie were important to one another. karlie influenced taylor to stay in new york, for example, instead of moving to london. karlie changed the trajectory of taylor’s life.

and you know they meant the world to one another because of songs with specific lyrics pointing to that like You Are In Love (taylor had an instagram post of her and karlie road tripping at big sur with the caption ‘on the way home’), and on reputation with songs like King Of My Heart (‘drinking beer out of plastic cups’ ... google “taylor swift beer” and see what photos come up), and Dress (watch her perform it with karlie watching, as she sings “i don’t want you like a best friend”).

karlie signed with scooter and in 2016 trump assumed office. jared kushner suddenly represents our nation. from then til now karlie has grown further and further distant from taylor as her relationship with jared’s brother continues.

that pavement? construction happened and the TS was mysteriously cut out and replaced with a J along with the freshly laid concrete.

rep tour starts and includes the song “don’t take the money” by jack antonoff in the preshow playlist. please listen to that song.

karlie announces her engagement to josh and the very next concert taylor sings Curious with hayley kiyoko and is in charge of the line “calling me up so late at night are we just friends? say you wanted me but you’re sleeping with him.”

the only time they are seen in public is at the nashville concert in august, and there is a photo of karlie celebrating her bachelorette with her sisters. strange that the same ambience of the photo down to the curly pink straw was replicated in You Need To Calm Down. karlie’s straw says ‘bride’ while taylor chose the word ‘lover’

after passing through karlie’s hometown, taylor sang “Speak Now” and was shaking with electricity in her delivery.

taylor comes out as a democrat. says something compelled her in the past two years to start speaking out.

karlie and josh suddenly hold a surprise wedding (coordinated by scooter’s team) while taylor is en route to australia. i say surprise because it came out of nowhere, (wouldn’t you say it took taylor by surprise?) had close to nobody documented in attendance, and the tabloid articles pushed it constantly during the bad press the kushners were getting in conjunction to ... world events involving a us citizen that was a member of the press...

taylor lands in oceania and sings I Knew You Were Trouble and slips in a firey “and the saddest fear comes creeping in that she never loved me”

on the very last night of the rep tour, a kaylor sign (representing the pavement mark) gets put up on the big screen as taylor sings “you belong with me” and bows in front of it.

in between then and the lover announcement, taylor all but confirms that half of one of the reputation concept photos is a collage of her and karlie’s eyes. ...i mean, she even encircled which eye is hers on the lover album cover 😂

because their first wedding was such a drag, karlie and josh held a ‘bigger reception,’ also coordinated by scooter’s team, and they had the audacity to give out shots of patrón as party favors 😡 taylor is not in attendance.

now scooter buys her music??

not only is this guy responsible for bad behavior surrounding kimye, he also has orchestrated the obliteration of one of the foundational relationships of taylor’s life. whether it was platonic or more than that, i don’t want to waste my time convincing you because either way, hearing scooter’s name makes taylor cry. and i am a thousand three hundred percent positive that it isn’t just about bullying surrounding kimye.

think about that. think on it.

we need to support taylor (and god am i worried about karlie in her own right!) and it goes beyond the kimye drama because this man and his client are predatory and downright creepy. and given the political connection? dangerous. they ruined her reputation and took away her best friend. literally took her name out of the pavement and ‘married’ her friend off in the eyes of the public. this goes far f*ing beyond bad management practices. this is so unforgivable.

and i cannot stand for people jumping in the comments telling us we are all delusional. honest to god i thought this was all ‘a reach’ two years ago. i was there. but i gave things the benefit of the doubt and i looked into it. i did my research on the music industry, and on hollywood and PR relationships. taylor wanted us to get political, right? please take this a step further if you already haven’t and look into the structures that control our society. taylor is dropping easter eggs for us, right? we need to look for clues. taylor is drawing attention to LGBT issues, right? look at the intersection of that and the music industry, suspend disbelief for one instant and imagine if taylor herself was gay, what her relationship with karlie may have meant to her, and how it was torn apart, at the very hands of the men who took over her music.

i am being serious. people calling us delusional might like to tout themselves as being sane or more in touch with the world, but they are literally sticking their heads in the sand on this one and turning a blind eye on something that is so cutting for taylor... now and over the course of her whole career. and each and every one of them best get off anon and stick a name to their words and proudly stick a pin to their comments, and @ taylor (i am dead serious. at your words to @taylorswift) if they are oh so confident, because when this blows open they’ll be on the wrong side of history on this one and i want them to know it and own it and learn from it. because this a huge life lesson and we are poised to take what we learn and give back to our idol by defending her in full force and it’s harder to fight when you’re sitting on your hands.. what role are you going to play? please... make the jump.

[pandastern]

Gravity (Bakugou x OC)

Part 11: First Round - New Challenges

If youd like to be added to the taglist for upcoming parts please dm me :)

Masterlist  II  AO3

Bakugou x Vigilante!OC

Warnings: angst, explicit language, violence

Word count:   2976

Genre: enemies to lovers ; angst ; romance, slow burn

When a new student makes an entrance, Bakugou has a real bad feeling. There is something about this girl that just doesnt feel right. From the flaming hair to the calculating glint in her green eyes, everything about her just pisses him off.

Little does he know that his fate is intertwined with the person he despises so much, defining his future path in a way he would have never expected

The hardest part about preparing for the Sports Festival was the fact that none of the students had any idea about what they were up against. They could have all the time in the world to train, but with no proper idea of how to apply it, the preparation would ultimately be useless. On top of that, Aizawa had kept his word, only allowing Artemis to watch her classmates during combat training instead of taking part herself.

While it was annoying, it did allow her to observe the abilities of her classmates and plan how to handle them should she be up against them in combat. In fact, she was surprised by just how willingly they shared every aspect of their powers with her. Midoriya, in particular, was always talking to her about quirks and strategy.

“Well, since you're not able to take part in combat training, you're missing a lot of material that you can't just grasp just by watching,” he said to her one day. “So, to make things fair, you're more than welcome to look at my notes!”

Artemis was grateful, of course, and she had to admit that his infectious smile was enough to lift her spirits every time. But this whole friendship thing still felt so odd to her. And yet with every passing day, she found it less and less exhausting. Often, she caught herself wondering if this was how it was like to be a normal kid.

Her own training, however, was beyond frustrating. Her body was healing so much more slowly than she was used to thanks to the poison still circulating her veins. Her quirk control was off and her stamina so much lower than she needed to fight effectively. She pushed herself regardless, training every day by herself until her body decided that enough was enough.

“Man, I really wish we could’ve worn our hero costumes instead of our PE uniforms,” Mina complained while Class 1A changed in the waiting room of the big arena.

“But this way, everyone has a fair chance,” Ojiro piped up.

Artemis sat at one of the tables, braiding the long side of her hair to keep it out of her eyes. The festival had arrived so much more quickly than she would have liked. Pulling another energy drink out of her bag, she tried to ignore the fatigue that seemed to accompany her constantly since the USJ incident. 

She’d dragged herself through worse situations. All she had to do was get through the day. Shouldn't be too hard, right? After all, she sure as hell wasn't a weakling that needed to lay down at every minor inconvenience. Failure was not an option.

The sound of a door slamming jolted her out of her thoughts.

“Everyone, get ready! The competition is about to start,” Iida exclaimed in his usual student rep voice that he used to ‘organise’ class events.

But before anyone could actually leave for the arena, Todoroki got up and stepped into Midoriya's way.

“I think it’s safe to say that from an objective standpoint, I am stronger than you,” he said in his impossibly deep voice. “And since you have All Might in your corner, I’m going to make every effort to beat you.”

Artemis stood up without thinking. Something in the way Todoroki was hovering over her new friend made alarm bells go off in her head. There was genuine contempt in his declaration.

“Hey, now. No need to get all aggressive. We’re all in the same class.” Kirishima laughed awkwardly as he stepped between Todoroki and Midoriya.

“We’re not here to be friends,” Todoroki spat, shrugging off Kirishima's hand. “This is a competition to see who’s the best!”

Something in his tone of voice made Artemis hesitate. Was it because some time ago, she could have been the ones saying those words? It wasn't that she didn't agree with Todoroki, but the way he was talking to her friend didn't sit right with her. This sudden protectiveness over Midoriya surprised even herself.

“Todoroki… I don't know what you think you’re saying when you tell me you'll beat me. Of course you're better than me. I think you’re more capable than most people here,” said Midoriya. “But I’ll still be going at it with everything I have. I won't lose.”

The determination in Midoriya's voice was something Artemis hadn’t heard before. The usually kind, shy boy had a whole different look in his eyes. He really meant what he said. Artemis felt a smirk tug at the corners of her lips. Was she proud at how Midoriya was standing his ground? Perhaps he wasn’t the only one changing, after all. 

The stadium was packed to the brim. The USJ incident had made class 1A so famous that it seemed like the entire city and media had their attention only on them. The first round was declared as an obstacle course around the stadium.

That seemed easy enough, Artemis thought, though knowing UA, there would probably be several extra challenges along the way. She just needed to get through it as fast as she could while making sure to preserve her strength for later.

*

Bakugou ground his teeth until they hurt. His lungs were burning, his breath ragged. The stinging of his arms told him he’d pushed his quirk to a painful level, and yet still he’d lost. How the hell had he only made it  to third place in the first round, while Deku of all people had come first? His head pounded with rage as he glared at Midoriya. He'd been in the lead with Todoroki, and then Deku had just blasted himself into the sky, shooting past them at a speed neither he nor Todoroki had been able to catch up with.

Bakugou straightened his spine as Midnight explained that there would be a break to prepare for the next round. He wouldn't lose again.

Forcing himself to take a calming breath, he suddenly noticed that a certain redhead hadn’t placed anywhere near the top of the ranks.

His brows furrowed. He’d been surprised that she’d even taken part in the competition, considering what had happened just two weeks earlier. But she wouldn't have competed if she hadn't healed up properly… right? Yet her ranking said otherwise.

Bakugou turned slowly and looked around. Just where was Artemis, anyway? He scanned the crowd, an uneasy feeling settling in his stomach. He spotted her making her way towards the arena exit where the waiting rooms and restrooms could be found.

Even from a distance, he could tell that something was off. Artemis was hunched slightly as she walked, her face pale. Before he could stop himself, he was moving towards her. 

Bakugou had been walking through the empty halls of the stadium for a few minutes when he suddenly heard a terrible retching and coughing, followed by a curse in a language he didn't speak.

Why was it that this girl had no sense of self preservation? Following the noises, he turned on his heels, strode towards the women's restroom and kicked the door open.

Sure enough, there she was, looking like death. She was kneeling down over the toilet bowl and clinging to the seat with white knuckles. Anger bubbled up in Bakugou’s gut as he watched her retch again. Artemis's whole body was shaking. Even Bakugou could tell she was in pain. Fucking hell.

How many nights had he woken up sweat drenched because he could still feel her blood soaking into his clothes? The image of her head falling back, her body growing cold in his arms as he saved her life, haunted him the moment he closed his eyes.

“What the fuck are you doing?” he growled.

Artemis flinched at the sound of his voice. Bakugou watched her wipe her mouth with trembling hands and look up at him. A myriad of emotions flickered across her face. Shock. Frustration. Rage.

“What are you doing here?” she rasped, falling back against the wall.

“What am I doing here? Seriously?” he hissed.

“This is the women's bathroom, dipshit. You really shouldn't-”

“Who gives a fuck? Look at you! If you're sick, you shouldnt be anywhere near the festival. Are you trying to kill yourself?”

Bakugou felt his body tremble, the look of defiance in her eyes fuelling the rage within him. Why wouldn't she just listen? And why was he even so worried in the first place? He shouldn’t care. He didn’t!

“I’m fine. A little overexertion never killed anyone,” Artemis huffed as she finally pulled herself to her feet. “This has nothing to do with you. Leave me alone.”

Something inside Bakugou snapped. If she was going to wreck herself beyond help, she could do that in her own time. He wasn’t about to watch her kill herself. Not when he’d worked so hard to save her.

“Enough,” he growled, marching towards her. “I will not have you carried out of this stadium in a fucking stretcher again.”

Before Artemis could say anything, Bakugou grabbed her by the wrist and threw her over his shoulder. She shrieked and struggled in his grasp, but her body was so weak, it did little to deter him. He barely felt her efforts to push him away. 

“Bakugou, put me down this instant!” Artemis hissed, her fists drumming against his back.

“Quit it, squirt. I've had enough.”

Again, she tried to wriggle free, but Bakugou simply wrapped his arm tighter around her waist and picked up his pace.

“Where the fuck are you even taking me? Let me go!”

“The old lady’s office. You’re done for today.”

“Wait, what?”

Ignoring her complaints, Bakugou carried Artemis all the way to the second floor. When they got to Recovery Girl’s office, he didn't even bother knocking. He kicked the door open, strode into the room and dropped the girl onto the bed.

“What on earth is going on?” Recovery Girl asked, eyes flicking between Bakugou and the still-cursing Artemis.

“She's sick. I found her throwing up in the toilets. I need you to excuse her from the competition,” Bakugou said dryly, holding Artemis down on the bed.

“The fuck? I’m fine. Get your hands off me!”

Recovery Girl walked over and placed her hand on Artemis’s forehead. “Dark circles around the eyes, elevated heart rate, raised temperature. You've pushed yourself too hard again,” the old lady said with a scolding tone. “This is why I told Aizawa you shouldn't have participated in the festival at all. You're not properly healed yet.”

“For the hundredth time, I’m fine,” Artemis huffed, swatting away Recovery Girl’s hand. “I don’t need to be babied.”

“You are not fine. Tell me the truth, girl. Did you train after you were released from the hospital instead of taking it easy as I instructed you?” Recovery Girl’s eyes narrowed at the pouting girl.

Artemis didn’t look at her, which told everyone in the room exactly what they needed to know.

“Of course you did,” Bakugou growled with a shake of his head.

Before Artemis could utter another word, Recovery Girl got up and grabbed a handful of files. It was obvious that there would be no room to argue here.

“It was good of you to bring her, boy,” she said to Bakugou. “I’m going to go and fetch Aizawa. Can you stay with her and make sure she doesn't run off?”

Bakugou rolled his eyes. Of course he'd have to babysit again, though he’d rather stay if it minimised the chance of Artemis fucking off again.

Artemis sat on the bed, brimming with anger. Despite her exhaustion, she still had enough strength in her to glare holes into the back of Bakugou's head, though perhaps not enough to resist the urge to sucker punch him in the face.

Once the door closed behind Recovery Girl, silence fell over the room. Thoughts rushed through Artemis’s head so fast she could barely grasp them. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been this angry.

The fact that Bakugou just stood there, arms crossed, made everything worse. God, she wanted to strangle him. 

“You had no right to do that,” she finally spat through gritted teeth. “I don’t need your fucking help. I don’t need anyone’s help.”

“Right,” Bakugou scoffed, turning to meet her gaze. “Because lying on the ground hunched over a toilet bowl is just a normal day for you, right?”

“That’s none of your fucking business. I would have been fine! It was just-”

“No, Artemis,” Bakugou snapped. “It's not ‘just’ anything. Holy shit. You can't destroy yourself in full view of the public and expect people not to take notice. You’re in a school for heroes, woman!”

“Oh, please,” Artemis hissed. “As if you care. We both know you hate my guts. So, what’s this really about, huh? Payback for kicking your arse? Are you so scared that I could beat you again that your only option is to take me out of the competition?”

For a moment, Bakugou just stared at her as he processed the words that had just come out of her mouth. Artemis noticed the vein on his forehead pulsating dangerously, the scent of nitroglycerin filling the air.

“You…” Bakugou's voice trembled as he spoke. “You really… think that's what this is about?”

“What else would it be? I'm sick and tired of everyone trying to baby me. None of you actually care. Just leave me alone!”

Artemis rose to her feet to meet him, her eyes blazing with fury. 

“I don't understand what you want from me. Why can't you just let me be? Whatever happens to me is none of your concern.”

“None of my… You fucking dumbass! You almost died. You think that doesn’t affect people?” Bakugou roared. “Goddamnit. You know, I really thought you were smarter than this. You walk around pretending to be better than everyone else, but you can't get it through your skull that none of that matters when you're dead. If you can’t give your best, then why are you even here?” His hands balled into fists. “I dont know what the fuck is going on in that head of yours, but your reckless behaviour is driving me crazy! You think I didn’t notice how you dragged yourself through school the past two weeks? I knew this was going to happen the moment you heard about the Sports Festival.”

Artemis’s rage simmered down to confusion with every word he spat at her. Why was he so concerned? Despite the anger of his words, the look in his eyes was far from hatred. She watched him pace back and forth as he voiced his frustration.

“For fuck’s sake!” Bakugou stopped suddenly and ran his fingers through his hair. “You're so infuriating. I dont know what the fuck you went through to make you care so little about your own life, but I will not stand here and watch until someone has to bury your arse. If you’re incapable of keeping yourself alive, so help me God, I'll kick your arse until you learn.”

And that's when it clicked in her head. Bakugou didn't hate her. Artemis stared at him. Her mouth opened to speak, but she didn't find the right words to say. He cared. Katsuki Bakugou actually cared.

Artemis’s heart started to race. The realisation hit her like a sledgehammer to the head. No-one had ever cared whether she lived or died. No-one had ever been willing to fight for her or make an effort to keep her alive.

“You… care?” She asked in a hoarse whisper. “Whether I live or die… You care about that?”

Her heart was pounding so fast she was sure Bakugou could hear it. At her question, he turned to stare at her in disbelief.

“Did you not listen to what I just said?” Bakugou strode towards her and grabbed her by her shoulders. He shook her more gently than she’d been anticipating. “Of course I fucking care!”

Artemis didn't know what to say to that. No-one in her life had ever said something like that to her. And she knew Bakugou wasn't lying. She could read it in his heartbeat.

Bakugou had trusted her with his life in the USJ. He’d carried her to  safety when her own body had given out. And here he was, trying to keep her safe again.

Artemis should have been angry. She should have pushed him away and told him to mind his own business. But the happiness that bubbled up in her was intoxicating.

Before she could stop herself, Artemis leaned forward, grabbed Bakugou by his jacket and pressed her lips to his.

Bakugou froze under her touch. Artemis didn't quite know what she was doing herself, but before she could pull back, his arms wrapped around her waist and pulled her closer, his eyes falling shut.

The scent of burned sugar filled her senses, clouding her mind in a way she’d never experienced before. Artemis released the fabric of his jacket to snake her arms around his neck.

Before she could do anything more, the sound of approaching footsteps made both of them freeze. They broke apart breathlessly.

Artemis looked up at Bakugou and recognised the same stunned confusion that she felt. Her cheeks started to burn, the heat spreading from her cheeks to her ears as she realised what she… they… had just done.

“Fuck,” she whispered.

Aizawa's muffled voice sounded dangerously close through the door. Bakugou's eyes widened. She opened her mouth to speak, but found herself being tossed back onto the bed. The next second, Bakugou was standing as far away from her as he possibly could.

Artemis didn't mind that at all. Her heart was beating so fast in her chest she was almost afraid it would jump out. What the hell had just happened?

[phoebehalliwell]

I LOVE ✨Bianca✨ too ! What do you think happened to her in the Dark Future after Chris left ?

Wyatt probably went after her and kidnapped her to force her back in his side. I always tought that she was ready to Die rather than betray Chris. But she had to « turned » when Wyatt mentionned sending assasin after Chris. because Bianca would rather have Chris Alive in the dark Futur than dead in the past.

She seems so gentle, sweat and supportive in their scene during the proposal, or when they said goodbye. (Still super deadly when the situation ask for it). The difference when she is in the club in the past, all Leather and Cold Attitude is 💔

Also : Chris proposing hours before going in a suicide mission. What a dramatic emo bitch 🖤

okay their relationship is definitely like 100% emo bitch moments like. like!! okay like it’s both be they’re so like uh you know like intense would die for each other type shit but you know it took them Forever to get there bc again piper and leo were set up as soulmates and chris got to watch that deteriorate so he’s definitely not big on the concept of love and phoenix of course don’t like. have romantic love per se that’s just not a part of their culture you have a family and it’s your fellow phoenix and you can have flings or whatever but no that they will never see you as you truly are know that they will never understand you they will never accept you not like the way you family does so like. you know bianca’s been really conditioned into that but like. like!!! aaaaaaa!!!!! They Fall In Love With Each Other!!!! which quite frankly bc i personally think chris leads the underground resistance against wyatt which actually operates out of the underworld because wyatt did you know go on a killing spree in his first move for power as his Big Statement so yes he earned some demon’s respect but other demon’s are like hey fuck this guy so the resistance is really a mixed bag like there are demon allies with is why chris like. know the underworld in s6. but the point is. he’s a figurehead. bianca was sent to kill him, chose differently (this is what i’ve written in the past) so she also kinda sits high up in the power spectrum. and the two are obviously close. the point i’m making is i think the resistance as a whole gets invested in their relationship bc like hell they’re really out of good things to focus on they don’t even get cable down here so this is really about all the entertainment they’ve got. and bless both chris and bianca as they never really grew up around healthy, stable love (but what about piper and leo? well um :/) so they don’t know what it looks like but other people remember and it’s just like. the two of them definitely always speak in hushed voices bc it’s Top Secret information leaning in close to her each other and they fight together so they tend to cling together for safety just the way they move together is like very balanced like um. like you know those half yoga balls you can balance on for exercise? and like. you gotta kinda counter every motion understand you center of gravity otherwise you’re gonna eat shit in front of the whole pilates/yoga class? the way they move is like that keeping a solid center of balance completely aware of the other and keeping guarded and it’s like the softest brush on the back of the arm and a quick flick of the lashes and they’ve immediately id’d the threat and are ready for a fight and everyone else is like oh : ) u r in love : ) which is true!! but they don’t know it! until they do :’) they r in love

but in regards to like. after chris went back in time i think wyatt had been closing in on the two of them for like a minute now which is why it was kinda a mad dash to the past and they knew only chris was going back and bianca didn’t tell him but she definitely made a potion or spell that wiped her memory of almost everything that had happened bc like. she didn’t want wyatt to have access to that. and it’s like. yeah if chris comes back they’re gonna hafta notebook it but she’s not 100% sure he will make it back and she knows wyatt is hot on their tail so it’s a risk she’s willing to take so i think she is captured immediately after the manor like she kills that demon and takes the potion that damn near knocks her out so when the next demon shows up she can’t really fight him and she goes under but Lucky For Her there’s a no kill order bc again she’s been like a leader in the resistance for like. a couple years? like two ish idk? the point is she has a Lot of useful information if wyatt can access it. but psych, he can’t. not for lack of trying he does try to bring back bits and pieces until he realizes that he can work with this situation bc again. bianca’s entire time w the resistance is erased. she’s basically back to her phoenix assistant self. so wyatt can basically do a take two here, and this time not let her defect. so i think like. they more time passes the more wyatt’s magic has an effect and bianca’s memories slowly resurface but they really just come in waves. she pretends like they don’t. and wyatt makes sure his power is constantly on display like lmao see how you could never betray me? see how much it would fuckin suck if you did? and like. bianca knows she betrayed him before. this is common knowledge. you don’t just wipe out two years of your life bc you were employee of the month. but wyatt keeps going on about how merciful he is to give her a second chance, and how he can also give chris a second chance. because he’s acknowledging their power. he thought chris was just a lil bitch (which, granted, he still does kinda think that) but clearly he’s proved himself. so if he can get chris and bianca at his side, well, like, that’s a power move. not to mention it basically annihilates the resistance to like see your leader defect like you know. -100 morale. and i think when bianca goes back, she’s still not 100% what she’s gonna do. she will take wyatt up on his offer. she also will betray him. it’s too soon to call she doesn’t know yet. but i think was coming into contact again with chris he memories definitely start coming back more and more (all the flashbacks we see poised as chris’s are actually bianca’s) and kinda the more the episode progresses the more she realizes that there’s no way they’re going with wyatt.

[genuflectx]

Alien/Reader {Xenith}

Length: 12,346 words

Main Themes: Aliens, fluff, consensual human pets, pet shows, micro/macro, comfort,

Other Warnings: Grief, global warming, mention of surgery, physical exam, telepathy, insects, space travel, broken family, being poor

SHOUT OUT to my beta readers! RosalieBear and Volurin!

(all images in aesthetic board are labeled for reuse with modification or are mine)

If you enjoy this writing, consider joining my patreon! $5 donors get to see half of stories like these before publishing, and $10 donors see the whole thing a full month before everyone else!

1/25/2020: REPOST

There was just nothing left for you on Earth. Nothing. The last thing you felt before leaving that dirt ball was relief.

The tides had risen significantly, draining into unprepared cities and tourist destinations. Corporations had seen it coming but had pockets too fat to ever consider a change. The little people wanted change; cried for it. There was simply no one around to listen. You could no longer stand to see your home planet dying in front of you. You’d already lost a pen-pal to the flood waters of a grand hurricane, inspired by the boiling sea.

The city you grew up in became more violent as you aged. You tried not to come out of your shoddy apartment if you could, wanting to avoid the risk of becoming the center of the next vigil. It wasn’t the peoples’ fault, widespread economic inequality plunged more and more innocents into unavoidable poverty. Even you saw some of that pain when one year, you were forced to live off of noodles, rice, and beans, courtesy of a broken limb. Medical bills weren’t cheap in your country.

But the worst of it wasn’t the failing climate or the civil unrest. It was the sheer loneliness. Your family was scattered; decades were punctuated by uneasy gatherings that just reiterated why it was you only met once every ten fucking years. Good god, even the aunt who was supposedly the nice one gave you the migraine of the century. And your parents? They’d broken your heart.

You’d had a generally good relationship with your mother and father, even if they always felt the need to fight against your every life decision. Your mother had contracted an avoidable ailment, believing only in alternative medicines, and passed away. Your father, unable to cope, spiraled into an understandable depression, and hadn’t been the same since. He did not believe in psychology or medications taken for mental health, much like your mother. And there was nothing you could do to change that. Years after your mother’s passing, you became distant from your father.

So there really was nothing for you left on Earth. Nothing but worsening weather, crushed rebellions, and your ever silent pay-as-you-go phone. But the Xenith homeworld, beaming with white light? It would be a clean slate. A new life.

It was nearly a decade ago that the Xenith had made first contact. They were easy going, monstrously big creatures, that became overly excited when they’d met their first human. They had no intention of meddling in human politics. No no, Earth was much too messy. But they thought the humans themselves were so interesting, that at the first world-wide conference with Earth’s leaders, they asked humanity to ship people to their planet as soon as possible. The world leaders had naturally been baffled. ‘Ship’ humans like a product? They did not agree. The Xenith had been disappointed but understood.

But, after many years of discussion, of voting, of drawing contracts, a few countries were finally on board. And it was all free. The Xenith provided everything needed to pay for transport. They even trained humans for and oversaw the surgeries that were necessary for humanity to survive in their atmosphere and gravity.

So, after having robotic organs implanted directly into your body, going through a long recovery process, and packing a few small bags, you were shepherded onto a spacecraft and given a room. You boarded without even looking back. Not even a text goodbye to your family. You were certain they would never even notice you were out of state, let alone off planet.

The journey wasn’t so terrible, if you were honest with yourself. Most of the staff were human, save for a single Xenith translator. But being near that one Xenith was simply… astounding. You got the feeling you would never lose the awe you had upon being in the same room as one, let alone if you were ever in the presence of a whole crowd.

It was true that they were giants. When knuckle-walking on all fours, they must have been at least fifteen to twenty feet tall. When standing bipedal, even taller. Their pads were soft, black to dark-blue, and stretched across ninety percent of their four thick fingers and beyond the knuckles. Then, their feet had three round toes with equally as thick padding on the soles.

Their bodies were smooth and rubbery, with semi-glittery skin, as if partially transparent. Skin colors ranged from pale blues, pinks, yellows, and grays, to the rare dark gray. They had four slits in their lower chest from which they breathed from, and instead of hair around the edges, there was a lace like material to protect the delicate flesh within. Tails were usually cropped, but if not cropped at birth then they would grow long and stiff. Their pelvic bone was theropod-like. It made them sit funny.

Despite their cold outward appearance and inability to express as widely as a human, they donned their bodies in beautiful clothes. The translator themself wore bright, pumpkin-orange fabrics over their body, which was embroidered with dark red thread. Their clothes were not tight fitting. Rather, they made one reminiscent of blankets thrown over horses during winter. Perhaps they even looked like capes, especially when they stood on their back feet.

Xenith were just amazing. You could hardly believe one of those beasts was supposedly going to adopt you. You couldn’t imagine how life with one would play out.

While the trip was very accommodating, and the watchful presence of the translator kept everyone up to date, the food had been a down side. Apparently supplying enough goodies for the re-locating humans had been too expensive after all those surgeries. Only the ship staff got the real stuff. Everyone else got flavored paste in pouches. The alien promised better grub upon arrival, as the government run ‘companion shops’ were very eager to receive a new shipment of humans.

“Thhhey’re the new favorittte,” the translator had bellowed with their strange, five-pronged tongue. “humansss…. are so cute! You will be treated well.”

You had a lot of thinking to do while the craft took its two month journey into the stars. This was considered a 'job’ or 'volunteer work’ by the humans who arranged the set up. But to the Xenith, it was much more. It made you wonder exactly what the nature of being a 'companion’ was. Before deciding to leave, you had done a little reading, but only enough to know that you were eligible and able to leave as soon as possible. The rest of the information on what the job entailed would come to you through the translator.

Xenith rarely spoke aloud, and when they did it was slow and booming with a lisp. Otherwise, communication lay in their skilled telepathic abilities. Their satellite dish heads and six wriggly antenna aided their inward conversation, but did not translate well with lesser species, including humans. It was very difficult for them to learn human languages. Luckily, the translator had become an expert over the year.

“When you arrive,” said the alien, their tongue pronouncing 'v’ as 'fph,’ “you will come to be placcced into public viewing roomsss in designated adoption locations. Many will be waittting. Many will want you.”

Someone in the back of the orientation room asked “So, this is like an apprenticeship, right?”

That had confused the Xenith. They blinked and took a brief moment to think, the skinny antennae on their flat head fidgeting. Eventually their brain pulled up the translation, and they perked up. “No, this is not ssservitude. You learn no trade. But if any harm comesss to you, you will be removed. Not that harm comesss your way. We cannot think to hurt our companion.”

“And we can leave whenever we want? If we don’t like it? I read that we could!” asked someone else skeptically.

They nodded. “Whenever you would like. But… you would break your master'sss heart, as you term the phrase,”

The more you learned about the species during your transport, the more you realized what the translator had said was pretty literal. Humanity liked to imagine itself as a quick-to-pack-bond species, but the Xenith had them beat. Their whole psychology was based so heavily around emotional bonding that when a pet passed away, it nearly killed them. For their companion to dislike them so much that they would leave willingly, it meant absolute heart break to the Xenith. You wouldn’t doubt that organ failure due to the strain of separation was possible too, but that was only a guess.

It was all as the translator had said. Upon arrival the humans were relocated to sprawling government facilities that housed creatures looking to be adopted. Both sentient and non-sentient species were presented. You were placed into a rather roomy, glass-walled space at the front of the building. Two other humans lived with you, and through the right-sided wall, you could see another group of three inside of their own spacious glass room. It truly reminded you of a combination pet shop and apartment complex, if not for the hovering aliens constantly peeping over the glass.

A caretaker, who did not speak any human languages, made sure all was well three times a day. Hot food and heavily filtered water were always available. The three of you had your own rooms with human beds, which the Xenith cleaned once a day.

You’d never had a maid before. It gave you a vague sense of guilt that you weren’t cleaning the room yourself, but the caretaker did not seem to mind. If anything, they acted as if they had the most wondrous job on the planet; humming aloud and talking cheerfully to the pets despite language barriers.

Over the course of three days your bunk mates had been adopted. You grew sad and alone, wondering why it was you that had yet to be chosen. Humans were supposed to be the new favorites, right? There were certainly a great number of Xenith who still visited your cage, but after they spoke with the caretaker, they left to view other options.

What was so wrong with you? Was it something the caretaker said that scared everyone away? Many a night was spent at the edge of your tidy little bed, lost in thought. Anxiety plagued your heart. Maybe this was a mistake.

At the very least, there was a particular Xenith that visited you once a day. You wanted to believe that they were interested in having you, but worry got the best of your troubled mind. For all you knew, they just pitied you; glancing down into the glass thinking how it was so sad no one actually wanted to take you home. You sighed.

This alien had four fleshy horn-like appendages on their satellite dish head, in which the top-most left horn was shorter, as if by past injury. A deep dark red cloak was tied over their back, which fluttered and swayed as they padded on their knuckles. The reds, accented by golds, contrasted the pale, desaturated blue of their silvery skin. They also had a cropped tail, and whenever they greeted the caretaker, their tail stub and six pink antennae would wiggle.

You hoped with all your heart that they were thinking about picking you. You couldn’t take the loneliness any longer. That was the main reason why you left Earth, after all. Still, the nagging fear that you would not be wanted, not even by the supposedly pack bonding Xenith, instilled a deeply rooted misery in your twisting guts.

Another despairing week passed by. In the morning, that particular red-robed Xenith came to your display for the dozenth time. The caretaker came with them, and they were both glancing down at you and across to one another silently. You squinted, wondering what the pale giants were telecommuting about.

“(And all is settled? The shipment is now here? It must be perfect.)”

The inner eye lids of the caretaker’s eyes blinked slowly. “(Correct, Sientia. The import of human belongings has docked. Expect delivery today.)”

Sientia was delighted, their upper most and longest antenna coiling together with excitement. They gently lifted and pressed the pads of their knuckles to the ground, as if prancing in place. Now that the secondary ships containing Earth goods were finally arriving, caring for human pets would be a lot easier. There had to be good beds, good bathrooms, good food and clothes. So, tomorrow, Sientia would come back and remove you from the lonely communal homes.

Sientia, some short time before, had reached the end of their mourning period. As a Xenith, companionship was the main driving force of their life. So when their previous pet passed away of old age, they fell into a deep, sorrowful grief, and decided if they survived mourning, the next one must have a longer life span. It just so happened that the long-lived alien species, Homo sapiens, were finally agreeing to put their people into the Xenith pet program.

So, Sientia had given away some of their extra crop in order to secure their pick of the next human pet shipment. Each craft carried fifty at a time, so demand was very high, especially being that it was first come first serve with pets. And on the first day of your shipment’s arrival, Sientia had chosen you. You were the perfect shape, and with the despairing history listed in your files, Sientia knew you had to be the one. How could they choose any other human to be their companion? They would give you a happy life.

Both of the giants began to stare down at you, and you stared back. The visitor lifted back their lips (or what barely constituted as lips) and bore their flat teeth in what you assumed was meant to be a smile. Xenith facial expressions were rather empty, since they spoke telepathically. This one was acting on purpose. They were hoping to elicit comfort from you. Instead, something about the attention made you embarrassed and you looked back down.

The next day the funny blue-tinted alien arrived to take you home. They were accompanied by the caretaker, who was in very good spirits. Sientia splayed out their huge palm inside the glass, awaiting your reaction. Instantly, the caretaker jolted.

“(You may scare the thing away with such forward action! It is typical to allow me to place the pet into a container for relocation. If they bite you or become injured, I am not liable.)”

Sientia barely flinched at the warning, instead focusing on you. It was as if they had not heard the caretaker at all. “(Come, come. I am taking you home!)”

When Sientia 'spoke,’ you heard nothing. Rather, you felt the strangest tickle in your brain that traveled down your spine, and you got the sense that they were asking for your attention.

Glancing slowly from the hand to the strange salamander face above you, you suddenly realized you were being adopted. Relief washed over you and, with a nervous smile, you climbed on.

You flailed and got to your knees when the hand moved. Gravity pressed down on you gently as Sientia lifted you up, up, up out of the glass apartment and into the air. They stopped you close to their face, where you could look deeply into their six pink neon eyes.

“…H-hi,” you peeped, feeling as vulnerable as a bare baby.

“(Look, they are brave! I will carry them,)” Sientia imparted happily to the caretaker.

“(Very well. Allow them to collect their belongings, then you may leave. Please contact us if you require additional supplies. And you,)” The caretaker gestured towards you with their long antennae. “(You must be good to Sientia. Their body is weak from mourning.)”

Of course, you heard nothing.

So you gathered your things and went home with them in the most horrifying way possible; over twenty feet in the air. They trod home on two feet. The world moved passed you in a blur of light and color, and when Sientia noticed you shaking, they placed their other hand over you to create a comfortable bubble of safety. You wrapped your arms around one of their thick fingers so you could feel some sense of security.

Eventually you arrived. Before letting you down, they moved into a specific room and closed the door behind them. It was best to let pets grow used to their new environment slowly. One room would do for now.

“(There you are,)” they comforted. They placed you and your suitcase at the mouth of a house-sized 'cage,’ which rested upon a high surface. “(Nice and easy.)”

The comforting words fell upon deaf ears. You stood there shaking, still feeling adrenaline pumping in your veins. You barely shifted to glance back at the uncomfortably square human-sized door.

Sientia stared at you. When you only moved to cross your arms, they snorted from the nostrils of their chest and went away to a device embedded in the wall. They touched the screen. A couple of choice pages were pulled up, to which they read greedily from. Images were downloaded.

They glanced back at you. Back to the screen. Back at you. Then they lumbered over and sat down nearby.

“(I see I have made a mistake, your expression seems to be 'unhappy,’ or 'distant.’ You are a brave human. But. I may have been irresponsible to carry you before you were ready. I got, excited.)”

They studied your face for a while longer, their expression hard to read. Xenith had a perma-smile, much like dolphins. Sometimes it was unnerving to look at.

You looked away, feeling awkward to be stared at silently. Soon you began to glance around the gigantic room, noticing the state of your surroundings. Besides Sientia’s bed (what looked like a pile of cloth in a long box), a computer poking out of the wall, and the smooth counter top that your cage sat upon, the room was eerily empty. The walls were a pale, metallic pink, and a heavy light emulated the sun overhead. No windows.

Sientia huffed. They decided they would attempt to communicate better. They didn’t know your language, but they had learned a few words and phrases in preparation for your arrival. They’d probably butcher them, but hopefully you would understand. Earth languages did not come easily with their sticky, five pronged tongue.

“(Perhaps I should have began with) Hello, I am called Sssientia.”

You started frightfully. You didn’t think this one could talk!

“Could you speak the whole time? Um, I’m [Y/N]. Your name is… pretty. Ssssen-ccchia,” you enunciated. It sounded more harsh from your toothy mouth, though.

They perked up, pleased. Finally, your attention was back upon them. Now you both knew each other’s names. Not a bad start!

“Hungry?” asked the giant, trying to speak softly so as not to frighten you.

You smiled shyly. That spooky ride to your new home had made you forget you hadn’t had breakfast. “Yes, a little.” you replied.

Sientia knew 'yes.’ They made a low, throaty sound and stood up on all fours, then got to their two feet. You were left alone in the empty room as the alien fetched something to eat. Curiosity over came you; what would they bring back? The adoption facility had given you baked chicken, fresh corn-on-the-cob, and ripe fruits like peaches and pears. Would your new owner present the same? Your belly rumbled.

They returned, hopeful you would like the foods they were given from the companion facility. Sientia plopped down carefully and lowered their palm. Inside was a cucumber, a hunk of warm, uncut bread, and a fat chicken leg. The meal looked miniscule in their oversized grasp.

“Strange combination,” you mumbled with a smirk, accepting the food. There was no plate, so you just nibbled straight from their hand.

Sientia’s antennae wiggled and curled with joy. They watched their little pet eat from their palm; a new sense of adoration and comfort washing over them. They had a good feeling about you, even if they still hurt from their previous loss.

They’d been so terribly sad when their previous pet had passed. Sientia had known that it was coming. That species only lived about twenty-five years, which for a human, was fifteen Earth years. But it was still a shock when they’d woken to find their beloved friend gone. Even while watching you eat, they felt a small tang of pain. The mourning period was over, but the sadness of memory never really left.

As you crunched straight into the juicy cucumber, Sientia crunched down on something too. You stared up, head cocking in confusion. When Sientia noticed, they slowly lowered the partially eaten food to your level for you to get a good look-see.

You stepped back. “Ah! That’s a HUGE bug!”

The half-eaten insect-like fauna was removed from your space as soon as Sientia realized it scared you. Seemed like a lot about the Xenith world frighten a human, but they hoped you would come to enjoy it in time.

“(It is tasty, I raise them. Perhaps I will show you the farm someday. But staying very close. You are a good snack for large livestock, like this one,)” they gestured by lifting the insect in hand, then biting off another gooey chunk.

You shuddered and averted your eyes. Gross. How could you forget? Xenith were well known on Earth as a people who consumed 'gargantuan pests.’ Great measures were taken to bar them from entering livestock onto Earth when they visited. Dead ones only. They’d surely cause a massive plague if not kept well under watch. Yet, here on the Xenith home planet, they were farmed far and wide as a main source of food.

You weren’t hungry anymore.

The rest of the day was spent inside that one room, exploring. That is to say, exploring what little there was to actually explore. Your cage was like a little house: a cozy bedroom with a king-sized bed, a spacious bathroom (plumbing and all), a small library with books in many languages, and a more open area for eating.

The cage did not have a ceiling, except for the bathroom. One of the walls of your bedroom was glass, while the dining room was all glass. By contrast, both the library and the bathroom were made of painted wooden walls.

Below the cage there was empty space, empty space, empty space. Perhaps for Sientia this was a small room, but to a human it was a beaming cathedral. You felt like a ladybug when you tottered about the bottom edges of Sientia’s thickly blanketed bed. Sientia kept a close eye on you while you sniffed around. They did not want to step on you.

The day was long on this planet. A cycle was thirty-two Earth hours. You ended up taking a five hour 'nap’ in the mid-day. Had a second meal. Then about three hours after that, Sientia gently put you back to bed and dimmed the room’s light.

After a very, very long sleep, you were awoken as Sientia stirred about the house. You rose drowsily. Good god, you hoped a few months on that schedule would see you adjusting to it well. Your circadian rhythm, so far, was displeased. Days too long, nights too long. But you’d live.

As you slipped an old T-shirt over your head, Sientia appeared, looking in above you. They watched you a bit, but you were reluctant to do anything while feeling like a walking television.

“Uh, hi,” you waved awkwardly.

“Hi,” Sientia repeated. They did not know many words. “Hungry?”

Food was already set out for you in the dining area. You had a breakfast of scrambled eggs (a little rubbery), pancakes (with maple embedded), and a sliced apple (salted). When you were full, Sientia slid one of the glass walls out of place. You didn’t know those were removable!

A hand was laid down. “[Y/N], come, (I am going to get you many nice things to wear.)”

You grimaced. You didn’t want to be carried around like that again just yet. “I would rather not.”

Sientia’s antennae moved subtly, thinking, then they understood the issue. The hand came back up as they puffed out their chest. Sientia pointed to a harness. Right above their four nostrils was a backpack like carrier, which was strapped around their shoulders. It reminded you of a baby wrap or purse, but much, much larger. It even had a few pouches in front for accessories, such as food or toys.

“You had one of those? Why did you carry me in your hand yesterday!” It was more scolding than it was a question.

Sientia bellowed a response, but you got the feeling that it was as meaningful as a human meowing back at a cat.

“…Alright, okay. Let’s just do this then.”

So they cheerfully settled you into the pocket on their chest. It was deep enough that you would not have to see the world, if you choose not to climb up and look.

You spent the ride curled up close to the side of the pouch that Sientia’s skin touched on the other side. You thought you could hear a heartbeat from there, but that was surely impossible. Xenith didn’t have hearts. At least, not in the human sense. Still, there was the steady pulse of their body, thumping gently and keeping you calm. And since you were so close to their nostrils, hot air constantly warmed the pouch. You wondered if this was how a lap dog felt while being carried in a purse. It was nice. You nearly forgot that you were being carried far from the ground.

Finally, Sientia came to their destination. It was a little pet boutique that sold many different types of imported clothes, specializing in sentient species. It had recently begun to acquire shipments of imported human goods.

Sientia had been devastated to see what little you had brought with you, and was determined to put you in something better. You may have left your new home wearing a hole-worn T-shirt, but you would return wearing lavish threads.

“(Hello, what species do you shop for?)” asked the retailer, who was dressed in extravagant magenta fabrics.

You poked your head out, nervous eyes wandering around.

“(Eh! You care for a human! So cute! Yes, yes, we have many clothes for humans. Please, let them down to browse, and we may write up a payment plan.)”

Sientia helped you to the floor and the retailer pointed them towards the human section. It looked small, but it was truly as expansive as a mega-chain on Earth.

“Y/N,” Sientia gestured towards the clothes and gave you a nudge.

You hadn’t been paying much attention and stumbled, catching your balance by grasping onto a clothes rack. Upon realizing the rack was proportionate to your size, you gawked. Your wide, surprised eyes drank in the sight; rows upon rows of imported human goods. Dresses, jackets, shorts, coats, an extensive section of underwear. You looked back at Sientia with awe.

“Are you actually going to buy me clothes?” you peeped, barely audible enough for the pale giant.

When they gestured towards the rows again, you turned and began to tear through the selection.

You tried on clothes for an Earth hour. When you’d come out from the (far too big) stalls to show Sientia, they were always overjoyed with how stunning you looked. It didn’t seem to matter what you picked out, it simply pleased them that you were having so much fun.

At the checkout line, you had garment after garment piled up in your arms. You couldn’t remember the last time your face had hurt from smiling this long. Sientia carefully petted your head with a round finger tip before taking the clothes and checking out. You’d gotten all that you’d wanted, and instead of being chided, your master was brimming with elation. No one had ever been so glad to throw their money away on you. Not even your parents. You tried to massage your cheeks to relax them while the retailer and Sientia finished up their business.

Back home, you folded and hung your new threads up neatly. Then you strutted about bearing a fancy faux fur coat and patterned leggings. You even had new name brand shoes. None of it matched, but it was more than you’d ever had. To show off like a proud peacock made you blush, but Sientia purred and grumbled happily, finding you quite humorous. You couldn’t help but enjoy their attention after such a nice outing together.

They brought their head down to the table. “(You seem so happy and look so good! I hope I’m doing well by you, so that you may want to stay with me.)”

You came near. Avoiding their watchful gaze, you nervously lifted a hand and patted their snout, between the smaller eyes. “Thank you for all of this, really. I was worried about being here, but I think… maybe you have a good heart. Or,” you laughed “maybe you just like to spend extravagant amounts of money to show off? Well.. I’m grateful.”

They audibly chirped at you in reply, nuzzling the hand carefully with affection.

A few days went by uneventfully. Then one day, while you were being allowed to explore the (much larger) main chamber, a loud beep alerted Sientia to visitors.

They opened the door. “(Antha, you’re here! Welcome! It’s been very long, please come and have a drink. Where is your- eh! Your human is on your head! Doesn’t that hurt?)”

The dark gray Xenith bumped a padded fist with Sientia in greeting, then chuckled out loud. They came inside as they spoke. “(Only a little, it tickles now mostly. We are close, so I am not annoyed! Now, where is yours that you tell me so much about? I’ve been eager for ours to meet. It is good for humans to have a friend. They’re social beings.”)

You carefully stepped under a table, watching the guest enter. Upon the other’s dark, wide set head, a human stood and clung to antennae with both of their hands. It frightened you even to look at. Good god, that was high. They could slip at any moment and plummet to their death. You had to look away so it didn’t make you queasy.

“Come,” called Sientia as the two Xenith laid on blankets around the shallow table.

So you came out and were placed upon the surface, which was covered with a thin, patterned cloth. Likewise, the guest brought down their companion. Instead of going to greet one another, you both remained close to the side your master lay at. But then Antha spoke an alien language out loud, and their human came to you.

“Hey. Antha thinks I need to talk to someone of my own species I guess. So uh,” he stuck out his hand awkwardly.

What was this, a business meeting? You hesitantly accepted the shake. This man was possibly ten years older than you and was wearing casual, comfortable clothes. He spoke with a slight accent, which you were unfamiliar with. But the most interesting feature was that when Antha spoke to him again, he actually turned and understood.

“So like… you can understand them?”

The man turned back to you. “Uh, not really,” he pointed at a device in his ear. “Antha just got us digital translators. I mean, some of the words don’t translate very well, and there’s some lag, but it’s better than nothing. I think my master is going to give yours one! Say, how long have you been a pet?”

While you and the other chatted idly, Sientia and Antha caught up.

“(So… you’ve been feeling better?)” Antha asked quietly in Sientia’s head.

Sientia’s eyes became downcast. “(I… suppose so. It’s hard to adjust to something new after being with someone for so long. It’s going to take a while.)”

Antha lowered their head in understanding.

“(It still hurts. As I rest, my body aches,)” their six antennae moved sluggishly and drooped.

Antha attempted to comfort. “(I am here. And so is- what do you call your companion? They will sooth your ache too.)”

“([Y/N], a good name. I believe they are feeling well about their new home. The cage is proportioned correctly, and they have eaten nearly everything I’ve given them. We do not communicate well, because we cannot understand one another, but I feel that they are generally happy so far.)”

Antha’s head bobbed, remembering they’d come for a reason. “(Th, yes! Here, accept this gift!)” they then dug something out of the pouch around their chest. There was a strange object, meant to be clipped onto one of the large antennas. Then, beside it, a tinier object that looked like a grain of sand in the palm of a Xenith.

“(Gift?)”

“(See that I speak to my human so easily? This is a translator! My friend, you’ve been through such grief, you deserve something nice. Please accept it.) Clarence dear, help [Y/N] with the device.”

The man stopped talking and perked up at his name. He nodded, and took the small piece when it was lowered to him. He helped you do basic set up while Antha fit the bigger piece onto Sientia. It took about ten minutes to get everything all settled, but luckily, it wasn’t too difficult.

“Can you hear me?” asked your master nervously.

You gasped then smiled. Amazing! “Yes! Yes, I understand perfectly! This is so cool!”

Clarence returned to the side of Antha and sat in their hand, satisfied.

“It works well,” spoke Antha, rubbing their thumb gently over their pet’s back.

“Thank you Antha! Th- [Y/N], are you happy?”

Emotions were mingling and mixing intensely inside of you. So when Sientia suddenly popped that question, you had to take a moment to process it. That was only the third question Sientia had asked you since meeting, and it was such a selfless one. You blushed.

“I-I-I mean-” you stammered. “-this world is… different. But the air is clean and the people are kind, so.. yeah. I’m pretty happy,” you spilled. “Anything beats Earth.”

You glanced back at Clarence and Antha. Clarence was rubbing his face against Antha’s fingers affectionately like a cat. Your blush darkened and you snapped back to Sientia, who titled their head.

“Are you happy, Sientia?” you peeped. You wanted to add 'are you happy with ME?’ but did not.

“…Yes, see?” they put on a humanoid smile, teeth and all, like they had done before adopting you. But there was a thin layer of sadness under that reply.

You were quiet, but eventually smiled back. You hoped Sientia couldn’t understand the way your brows furrowed in concern.

After a short, awkward silence, Antha huffed and spoke up. “Sientia, [Y/N], have you considered competing yet?”

You looked back and forth between the two. “Competing?”

“(NO,)” Sientia lowered their head and looked away. “(Antha… you know that was Inridd'h and I’s favorite thing.)”

“(Yes, I’m sorry,)” they apologized, before lifting a grabby Clarence up onto their head. “(But I just… I also know how much it meant to you. To be able to train and spend so much time with your companion, and to show the crowd how much you trusted one another.”)

It seemed the Xenith were ignoring you. You sighed and sat down, legs crossed.

Sientia looked back up at Antha, their sad pink and cyan eyes like doe. They watched Clarence balance and keep a careful hold on Antha’s antennae. Eventually he made his way to the back of Antha’s head where their crest was, and settled there when Antha tilted their head forward. No sense of fear. Clarence knew Antha would not allow him to fall. Then, Sientia shifted to watch you. You sat so patiently, waiting for attention. Guilt struck the blue Xenith.

“[Y/N],” they called softly. “Would you like to compete?”

You straightened up. “Well, that probably depends on what you two mean by competing. Like… sports?”

Antha rumbled. “Perhaps not. It’s more similar to a, ehm, a 'dog show?'”

They didn’t sound too convinced of their own comparison. You scratched your head and leaned back on your hands. “So like, being dressed up and paraded around an arena? Or is it more like agility, where dogs run through tubes and go up ramps?”

Both of the aliens looked confused. It seemed they had difficulty explaining. Antha only had vague knowledge of how human dog shows worked, and Sientia was totally unaware of them. However, Clarence had been in a few small scale shows.

“It’s kind of a dog show plus beauty pageant!” he yelled from Antha’s head. Antha flinched in return, so Clarence apologized quietly for yelling so close to their sensitive antennae.

Sientia placed their head onto the table, where eye contact was easier. They looked like they were awaiting a response.

You stood and crossed your arms uncomfortably. A sense of dread sat in your guts. You thought about the nice new clothes you’d been given, and tried to imagine yourself walking down a stage all fluffed up. All your brain could conjure was the image of a crowd of Xenith and strange, beautiful alien creatures, wondering why it was you were so… ugly. Why were your clothes like that? Why walk that way? You imagined what they’d say.

'Oh, you know humanity is simply second to the slug peoples of planet Dirtemous. That’s why they all look and act so hilarious!’

Then the beautiful alien’s equally beautiful friend would laugh and reply. 'Yes, and what sort of awful thing would ever want to claim THAT particular human as a pet? I’d rather have the slug! Ho-ho-ho!’

You took a breath. What a stupid imagination you had. But even such an exaggerated, outlandish thought had some sort of truth in it. You were anxious. Not only were you worried about being scrutinized by strangers, you were also worried that you would embarrass your master. Sientia was a kind, lonely thing. They didn’t need you making things worse. You were just making yourself sadder and sadder, and the look in Sientia’s eyes did not help.

“You don’t have to agree, my pet,” they eventually added.

With one last glance at Clarence and Antha, you decided. You wanted to trust Sientia like that. You wanted to make them happy. So, you would try.

“Yes. I don’t think I’ll be very good at it, or win anything, but… yes. I’ll compete,” you shrugged.

There was both pain and joy inside of Sientia. The notion that they were replacing a chunk of their heart that was once filled with their old pet devastated them. But they also knew the only way to recover was to keep going; to move forward. Inridd'h would not have wanted them to keep falling asleep at night aching for relief. Inridd'h did not smile upon them when they shut themself away.

Sientia, too, would try.

An overwhelming desire for comfort overtook Sientia, and they scooted their flat head forward to nuzzle you. It knocked you back a bit to have their whole head thrust up against your body, but you steadied and petted their head.

“Are you okay?” you asked, unaware of why it was they seemed so upset.

Antha stood up slowly. “It is time we head back home. Please keep in contact, Sientia. I care. We will want to come to your competition! Goodbye friends.”

“(Wait, you never had anything to drink!)”

But Antha and Clarence had already gotten to the door and let themselves out.

You hadn’t been sure what training for an alien competition would entail.

Apparently, you would be physically looked over to determine if you had good breeding. Like a dog. You didn’t look forward to that part very much, considering you were sentient and not some space lemur that could just be treated like decoration. This segment would also note your outfit. Sientia had said that this part of the competition would be worth less points than the rest of the competition.

Then, much like a pageant, you would show off your talents. This forced you to actually have to sit down one night and determine what the hell your talents even were. Running away from home, maybe? You got flashbacks from the horrific talent show in second grade. You did not want a repeat of that.

“I don’t think I really have any talents,” you admitted to your master as you sat comfortably in their bed.

Sientia laid down beside you, poking at a device in their hands. You supposed the device was much like a cell phone on Earth, but made for the Xeniths’ large, clumsy fingers. They were pulling up videos of humans performing various tasks, hoping to find a talent to suggest.

“Cooking?” they asked.

“I can cook packaged ramen. Maybe bake a potato. So no.”

“Horse riding? We do not have a 'horse,’ but they can provide something similar.”

You plopped over on your back, grimacing. “God, no.”

“Th! Humans are adequate at singing!”

“Um… let’s not even go there.”

With every suggestion your heart sank further and further. You should have never agreed. With a sigh you turned over onto your side, hoping to keep Sientia from seeing the way your eyes watered. You wiped at the sting.

“Sientia, really, I don’t think I can win this. So maybe I should give up before we get too deep.”

They sat up on their elbows, setting the device down. “I detect sadness in your voice. Did you change your mind?”

“I just don’t want to get your hopes up.”

The room was quiet a moment. Then the giant turned on their side and gently rubbed their finger along your back, hoping to ease the pain in your words. The sensation was… actually very nice.

“Please, do not be sad [Y/N]! You don’t have to do this if it makes you uncomfortable. The competition is simply an act, performed for the love of it, and perhaps sometimes for the prize! I don’t believe any companion’s master has been broken by a loss. I could not be disappointed if we lost. So, please feel better.”

You still had a heavy heart, but the reassurance that this was not anything serious helped you feel a bit easier. Knowing that Sientia already knew you could lose and did not care cheered you up even more.

“R-really?” you squeaked, turning onto your back once again.

They nodded, swiping their finger across your torso and belly as if to continue comforting.

You squeaked and grabbed the finger, face red. “That tickles!”

Sientia stopped and removed the appendage. “Eh! Sorry!” they looked away. “My… previous companion enjoyed belly rubs.”

Now it was Sientia who sounded sad.

“Do you… want to talk about it?”

They thought, antennae moving slow as if fidgeting. Eventually they huffed out hot air and answered.

“They were bigger than you. Non-sentient. Covered in rough, damp skin. Very jumpy and loud, and they passed away in their favorite spot in the glass house. We… used to compete a lot. And I miss them,” Sientia seemed to sink into the blankets. “That is all I would like to say for now. I’m still hurting.”

You had to wipe at your eyes again. Memories of your mother played through your tumultuous brain, reminding you how grief could invade one’s life so fully. Even when your family had problems, you never could stifle or hide the hurt when she passed. After gaining courage, you stood and moved to curl up against Sientia’s skin.

The alien was surprised at the contact. They glanced down and felt their affection surge for you, the finger coming to your back again.

“You’re so much softer than Inridd'h. So much different.”

You curled against yourself tighter and nuzzled your forehead against their skin. “I’m sorry.”

“No, it is good that you’re different. I’m different than I once was, too. Please never be sorry for being yourself, my pet.”

After a minute or two of easy silence, they added. “Do you still want to compete, or have your changed your mind?”

Without hesitation, you replied. “I still want to do it. Maybe I can’t think of a talent off the top of my head, but… I’m sure we’ll figure it out. Together.”

In the end, you decided on painting. According to Sientia, Xenith were most fond of abstract art. That was something you could do. Though not formally trained, you’d painted a couple of shoddy pieces in the past that your parents had enjoyed. One had even been printed as a holiday greetings card, much to your embarrassment. But unlike the thickly globbed on acrylics of family pets and favored cartoon characters, you’d be working with thin watercolors to make something representational and abstract.

So you practiced and practiced. Sientia had even gotten you a nice new desk to sit and paint at. You’d use thin sheets of paper to work with, though the Xenith’s idea of “thin paper” was still rather thick.

It was actually extremely therapeutic to just focus on shapes and color. You’d find yourself trying to represent the objects in your room without making it obvious what they were. Making an abstract piece representational was a feat and required a great deal of thought. You hoped by the time the competition started, you’d be able to stand in front of the crowd and paint something they would enjoy.

Soon, you moved onto painting on a sheet of paper tacked to a wooden board, which was held up by a portable easel. You’d stand in front of the blank, semi-yellowed sheet, and just think. A pink spot there. An orange square there. A deep, deep cobalt wave streaked vertically through the piece. It was missing something. You watered down some yellow then made a generously thick, wiggly-lined circle around the square. Done.

“How comes practice?”

You were startled and snapped your head up. How long had Sientia been watching? You stilled your heart and smiled up at them. “I actually think my work isn’t half bad!”

“Hm,” The giant lowered their head closer to your spot on the counter top. “What is it?”

You stepped back. “Well, what do you think it is?”

This response pleased Sientia. They tilted their head this way and that, before deciding. “I don’t recognize the shape. This yellow, it is a good color. I am no artist, but I also enjoy-” they gestured to the blue. “-this squiggle, here.”

You placed your hands on your hips, feeling all fuzzy from the praise. “It’s a lamp. One I had in my apartment, way back on Earth. It was pretty ugly, but my parents had given it to me as a housewarming gift.”

Sientia lifted their looming head back up. “I didn’t know humans needed heat lamps. Should I ask one be imported?”

You laughed heartily, before taking a rest and explaining that no, you had not referred to a heat lamp.

The time to compete finally came. Sientia picked out a nice outfit for you to wear, settled you into the pouch, then headed out eagerly.

You knew you’d arrived when it became terribly noisy. Most of the Xenith remained in their heads, however other alien species that resided on the planet were chattering away.

You poked your head out of the pouch to watch where you were being taken. You were inside of an arena, which was surprisingly similar to arenas on Earth. The stands were chock-full. It was hard to distinguish what sort of other aliens were among the bleachers. All you could make out was a mix of pale Xenith, and various shades of lavender and baby’s breath blue.

The two of you checked in and were escorted to the first area. This space was within the bleachers. Instead of having the audience surrounding you, you were simply on camera for the first half of the contest. Later you would be taken back into the thick of it.

Sientia placed you carefully onto a pedestal as drones buzzed around everyone. They kept all companions at around Xenith chest level, as they stood on twos. Almost immediately you were surrounded by several of the other Xenith contestants, who were delighted to see a human.

A silvery Xenith focused on Sientia. “(You have a human?)”

“(Aw, might I hold them?)” asked a yellowish Xenith.

The third spoke your language. “Hello!”

Sientia huffed awkwardly and kept close. They seemed abashed.

“(Please don’t touch! This is [Y/N]. It’s their first competition, so do not frighten my dear companion!) [Y/N], are you well?”

You backed up and bumped into the hand of the yellow-tinted Xenith. With a start you leaped and stumbled back over to the side Sientia was closest to. “It’s just… wow. A lot of attention.”

“(Apologies. I attempted to adopt a human, but they continually were out. How did you receive this one?)” questioned the silver alien.

Sientia fidgeted. “(I farm, so I simply gave excess crop away early. This secured a spot to choose a human.)”

The yellow Xenith kept staring at you longingly. “(Ehmmm… I wanted one, too. You think ahead. Very smart.)”

Sientia wanted to get rid of them. “(I believe the judging is starting.)”

So the others ended up scurrying back to their own companions, but not before a couple more desirable glances were thrown down at you.

You sighed, grateful.

“It really is starting,” commented Sientia with surprise, as the judge came into the inner bleachers. “Brace yourself. The pedestal will shift.”

So. A physical and fashion check was first on the agenda. It was the part you had been dreading every day. You took a deep, calming breath.

Because so many sentient species were twelve feet and under, the judge had to be proportionate during this segment. Everyone was moved downwards, so that the small judge could come by. A drone slightly bigger than your head followed behind the no-nonsense alien, which you had no doubt was plastering all this upon the screens outside.

One by one, the contestants were- you shuttered- fondled. You didn’t know if that was a good or bad shutter, but you had butterflies in your stomach.

The judge, a seven foot tall, light blue alien that walked on the tips of its three-pronged feet, was very thorough. They would circle the contestant, watch the way they walked, judge their outfit, and then feel certain parts of the body over. Occasionally a contestant would lean in, as if dizzy, before the judge finished up, wrote something down, and then left to the next pedestal.

“Don’t be nervous,” comforted Sientia quietly, who had laid beside you. “Remember, we can forfeit at any time my pet. I will not let you stay if you change your mind.”

You smiled at them before being spooked by the sudden appearance of the judge. You hadn’t realized that the alien had been getting close.

The judge was very professional throughout most of the examination. Stoically, they watched you walk and jotted something down. Comments were mumbled in an sing-song alien tongue about your choice of outfit.

'Polka-dots, with plaid shorts?’ you imagined them saying.

Then the part that had you most nervous came. The alien felt your arms gently, slid a hand over to your chest and thumbed over the ribs. Were they counting them? They squished down where certain organs were along your body. Finally, the intrusive appendage cupped your cheek and pressed your upper lip out of the way. You instinctively bore your teeth and grimaced.

“Very good teeth. Unique human specimen,” spoke the strange alien in your language.

There was a sweet scent, like sugar, in the air. Your eyes fluttered and you found yourself relaxing. Suddenly you understood why it was some of the other contestants appeared to become dizzy. Whatever this alien was emitting smelled lovely.

The judge swiped a finger over your blunt human canines. “Always fascinated by Homo sapien teeth.”

They removed the hand and glanced over at Sientia, the air sack around their neck tinged pink. “You groom your human well,” they said in Sientia’s language.

“Thank you,” Sientia eyed the judge suspiciously.

You had no idea what they had said. The judge patted your cheek, quickly wrote a final thought down, then left. It almost made you sad to see them go. However, after a few minutes your head cleared. That was a weird experience. You straightened your back and awaited the second segment.

“Do you think I did alright?”

Sientia moved their head near. “Yes, you did wonderfully! I am certain. The judge sounded… much too pleased. Fae are simply like that, though.” They gave you an encouraging nuzzle.

You blushed and rubbed your hands over Sientia’s head. It was funny that you were supposedly the pet, yet you were the one who did most of the petting. You felt them physically purr.

After the first segment ended, contestants were directed one by one back into the main arena. The Xenith held their companions in their hand and were paraded around the edge. It was hard to keep your cool. You had to force yourself not to look down as you tried to keep balance.

This was all so overwhelming. It wasn’t nearly as loud as a stadium back on your home planet, but the quiet chatter did invade your thoughts. Being so high in the air, with all eyes and ears and words directed at you, started to make you terribly dizzy. But as you glanced over into the crowd, you found a familiar face.

“Look! It’s Antha!”

“Ehm,” hummed Sientia in response, who was finally allowed to come to a stop. “You see Antha?”

Antha wiggled their fingers. On top of their head stood Clarence, hardly more than a speck in the distance. But the little speck squirmed, and you just knew he was waving vigorously at the two of you.

Your spirits lifted again. You waved back, grinning. The support was very much needed, and Clarence’s presence reminded you of the true reason you’d decided to compete. You wanted to trust Sientia fully, as Clarence did Antha, and you wanted to make your master happy.

Sientia nodded their head in Antha’s direction. This almost made Sientia feel like they had before the mourning period; warm and fuzzy, like a healthy Xenith. They puffed up just a little more, antennae high and spread wide.

So, it was time for the talent competition to begin. You watched the flickering screens above the stadium as various individuals attempted to impress the intense, boring eyes of the judges.

There were four judges in total. One Xenith. The other three included a brawny, one-eyed biped, a large piebald covered in feathers, and the previous judge who had done the physical. They sat across the field, and hardly blinked as they jotted down notes and numbers on the performances before them.

A dark, four-armed alien with a flat face could throw a heavy metal ball across the entire field with ease. A five-foot, mousy alien could complete an agility course in under twenty seconds. A long and skinny serpent like alien could dance and twirl like a ribbon within the air. The crowd particularly liked the serpent, clicking and chattering at the graceful shapes made as she looped around.

You tried to still your heart. That was some tough competition, but you’d been practicing your art skills each and every day. You were certain you would please at least the Xenith judge. Maybe you’d win them over with your human 'cuteness,’ even if the painting didn’t elicit a major response. After all, some thought humans were endearing. If you fumbled, you’d play it off and try to look nothing short of adorable. Even if the voice in your head kept telling you that they should see you as an ugly species, that you yourself were ugly, you’d been proven wrong on multiple occasions.

Finally, it was your turn to shine.

“Are you ready?” asked Sientia quietly, with concern.

“As I’ll ever be.”

Sientia stepped further into the field, careful let you down, then removed your setup from the pouch on their chest. It was a large sheet of watercolor paper, nailed to a wooden board five feet wide and ten feet tall, which Sientia propped against their free wrist. Your act would consist of painting a certain someone while using their hand to raise and lower yourself along the canvas. A show of trust while also entertaining the crowd. A perfect act.

Two drones flew low, eyes watchful. You tied an apron on and stuffed your brushes into the front pockets. After picking up a closed container, you made meaningful eye contact with Sientia. They lifted you upon their hand, to which you opened and dumped the container down over the top of the paper. Gray tinted water dripped, soaking into the paper a quarter down.

The brushes were whipped out. Over the course of ten minutes you drove the wide tipped brushes into buckets of pre-mixed colors and swept them across the open plains. Deep cyan, made from an imported liquid watercolor, was your main shade.

You made four quick strokes, forming a ball with spikes coming from one end. One long thin strip vertical from that, though not touching. Then horizontally a fat, stocky, uneven line that was bigger at the end than tip. Two near perfect, wet cyan circles close to the bottom, both dripping towards the edges. You admired your work a second, already out of breath.

A few more blue splotches were added before you switched colors. A bright, watery pink mingled with the blues, mixing into purple in several areas. Embarrassingly, a large, unwanted splat splashed onto the paper, to which you blushed and pretended was on purpose. Then, before you knew it, you were adding the final touches in a gold leaf yellow.

Standing from a distance in Sientia’s hand, you turned your head this way and that, before giving a curt nod and deep bow.

“Tah-dah! It’s finished!”

Sientia let you down, and you were exhausted. Finishing a painting that large in just over ten minutes killed you. You popped your joints and looked hopefully over at the judges. Three of them were scribbling excitedly, while the Xenith was staring at the art. You didn’t know if that was good or bad. Eventually the giant titled their head down and gave their unknown input, too.

“You are so amazingly talented,” swooned Sientia, drawing your attention.

You smiled sheepishly, face very red. “Th-thank you. I… made it for you.”

Affectionate and surprised, Sientia wanted to cuddle you, but the two of you had to step back so the next contestant could work.

The rest of the aliens went by in a blur. You were simply too in your own head to pay hardly any attention. Over analyzing the minute body languages of the judge panel was not fun, and had you guessing- then guessing again- as to what your final score would be.

When the last out-of-breath contestant returned to their owner, the talent segment was done. All Xenith and pets were marched around the outer rim for a final lap, before returning to the inner stadium. Pets were placed back onto their pedestals to rest while the judges compiled their thoughts.

You sat and fidgeted quietly.

Sientia’s head teetered against the edge of the pedestal, cross-shaped eyes focused upon your nervous little form. “It is okay if we don’t win, my pet. Please remember. I’ve had so much fun today! It’s been a very, very, very long time since I’ve walked the circle and presented my companion before all. Do not fret so!”

That made you smile, if only a tidbit. “I know… I just can’t help but have nervous energy! If we won, that would make me sooo happy. It would make you so happy.”

The alien’s face emoted more densely than you’d ever seen before. Their eyes dilated, antennae curled, and they put on a wide, open grin. The smile was added for you, but still. Such emotion.

“I was right to choose you, [Y/N]. You are perfect.”

You nearly cried. Who in your life ever called you perfect? Not your first partner, nor your last. Most certainly not your parents or 'good’ aunt. Nobody was perfect in this world or the next, but the sheer fact someone was inspired enough to utter something so romantic made your heart flutter. You opened your mouth to even attempt a reply, but a noise chimed and echoed through the spacious corridor, flinging everyone around into silence.

A winner had been decided.

You stood and swallowed, hard.

Upon the elongated screens high, high on the metallic walls, the various aliens of the panel chatted softly. The same footage was being aired on enormous screens above the stadium, so everyone was watching in anticipation along with the contestants.

The four judge panel went through each contestant’s score briefly, citing anatomy and subjective thoughts on the talent segment. As they spoke in the local Xenith tongue, recordings of the contestants and their owners were played. You could not understand the talk at all, yet your eyes stayed glued to the video.

You saw yourself. Did your painting really look that bad on screen? 'Stay optimistic,’ you chanted to yourself inwardly. 'The Xenith like abstract art.’

You were given a number score of 68 out of 100. A sigh of relief. That wasn’t totally awful. So far, the scores ranged from 22 through 65, meaning you were somehow ahead. But there were still seven more scores to reveal.

Burning eyes stared down the screens, counting scores. 43, 50, and there it was, 71.

You lost.

Your legs were weak. You found yourself on knees, not even bothering to watch the rest of the judgment. Sientia had turned attention to you as soon as the higher score had been announced.

“Are you okay?” asked Sientia gently.

You sighed and ran a hand through your hair. “Yeah, I guess. Disappointed. Trying not to cry, but okay.”

They paused in thought. Sientia was truly not put off by the results. If only you could hear their telepathic emotions, they could send a wave of comfort and compassion your way. Instead, they had to settle for the physical and verbal. That was fine, too.

You felt something boop your head and flinched. A quick glance up revealed that one of Sientia’s longer antennae had touched you, from where the giant was tilting their head down. It patted you, unsure, the other poking you carefully in the face. It was like a dog coming up to sniff you. Considering the antennae were the most sensitive part of any Xenith, this was perhaps not far off.

“I know you’re trying to comfort me,” you said. “and it makes me happy, but… I don’t think I’ll be totally over this for a few days.”

“When we get home, I will make you your favorite food, and we can put on one of the imported Earth medias you like so much. Will this sooth?”

You couldn’t help the tug at your lips. “Hmmm… that is… acceptable. Thank you. So, who won?”

Out of 15 contestants, you ranked number 8. That was nearly in the dead center. The winner, with a score of 100 (as all contest winners are scored 100), was the four-armed alien who’d thrown the metal ball across the field. You supposed you couldn’t feel too bad about losing to an act like that. After all, even you had been impressed by that contestant’s superior show of strength.

There may have been resentment in your heart, as if you could have somehow done better, but at least Sientia did not blink twice at the results. To be human was to be rampant with emotion, so you could not help but feel a little upset at losing your first competition. But in the end, it was Sientia’s judgment that mattered. And Sientia was overjoyed just to spend time with you doing something they loved. That was something you would simply have to learn, especially if you decided to partake in more pet shows.

The two of you were given your prize, then met up with Antha and Clarence before leaving.

Antha lifted and pressed their knuckle pads to the ground, with Clarence balancing stupendously on their head. “(The two of you looked very good on the field!)”

If a Xenith could blush, Sientia would have. Instead, their antennae twirled bashfully. “(Thank you, friend. [Y/N] did well. I am so very much proud of them.)”

“And how do you feel, companion [Y/N?]”

You were still being carried in Sientia’s hand. You pursed your lips and shrugged. “Disappointed.”

Antha lowered their head closer, as Clarence wanted to comment.

The other human waved and beamed. “Hey, you did super great for your first competition! I’ve been in a few and man, let me tell you… the first time I tripped in front of the whole stadium. Over my own feet, too. Don’t worry so much, you did just fine!”

You couldn’t help but smile awkwardly, a little embarrassed “Thanks, Clarence.”

On the way home, you fulfilled your dream of riding at the top of Sientia’s flat head. Your master had been reluctant and afraid that you would get anxious, but you were adamant. One arm looped tightly around an antenna, the other fiddled with a tiny red participation ribbon, which was your only prize.

“Pet?”

You hummed.

“I’ve thought to ask. You say you painted for me. But, ehm, what have you painted?”

It took a moment to decipher the question. “Oh! Well,” you blushed. “I was trying to paint you! I know it didn’t come out exactly how I expected… that I could have done b-better to impress the judges-”

“Eh! No more talk of judges! I will hang it upon my wall above my nest. Look, we are home.”

Home was lamp-lit and unfit for a human to wander the rooms wide as a veldt, but it was home. The house that you grew up in had never felt like home, nor did the apartment you huddled in on Earth. But this strange, empty cube in the suburbs of the Xenith home world? It had begun to feel like home more so than any sad, brick building every did. You left Earth months ago, and never once began to regret that decision.

Sientia, you master and friend, spoke to you candidly and with compassion. They clothed you lovingly in lavish things, smoothed your anxieties like an iron, and wanted nothing more than to spend as much time as possible with you. They loved you so much that they wanted to lift you high in their palm, to put you in the eye of buzzing drones and chattering aliens.

Even during a time that Sientia was still recovering from loss, they wanted to badly to move forward. You think that they did. You could hear it in their voice now, whenever they spoke sweetly to you, that they knew Inridd'h was smiling. Before the competition, when you were still practicing your abstract thinking, there was a glint in Sientia’s six eyes. It filled them with comfort to watch you work so hard, and with such great passion.

You loved the miniature house Sientia built for you, and the surrounding areas Sientia themselves lived in. But more than anything, you loved Sientia. Sientia was what made the house a home. You prayed you could stay as long as possible, because at this point, you had no intention of leaving.

So, when they two of you returned home, you ate a big dinner, popped in a human movie, and curled up on their nest together. You fell asleep atop their head with a full belly and a healing heart.

EPILOGUE

Sientia held you close to their body. You could feel warm air rising from the nostrils of their chest, as you wobbled and balanced close to their shimmering blue skin.

“Now, you must stay close. Some species may swoop low and pick you up if you move too far. It is perhaps safer to remain in my hand, at first.”

You nodded, apprehensive but excited.

It had been half a year since you decided to become the pet of the great alien species, the Xenith. But you’d yet to experience the awe of being in close quarters with your master’s life work; their livestock. They’d kept you distant from their crop, as giant bugs were most certainly to be predators to little humans. You could be a tasty, blood-filled morsel. The scenario was as tense as introducing the pet chicken to a new barn cat.

You shielded your eyes as they opened the door to a blistering glass greenhouse. After a moment of wiping away involuntary tears, you were able to see again.

“Woooah,” you gasped.

To Sientia this was a large terrarium, but to you it was an expansive jungle. Tall yellow grass sprouted all around, circling the dirt and clays below. Alien ferns spread their fleshy leaves and fronds, sprinkling the air with heavenly scents. A myriad of neon blossoms bloomed among the plants and grasses, dotting it all with pinks, yellows, and whites. You’d never seen anything like this before. Not even at the zoo.

“Is this what all your grasslands look like, out in the wild?”

Sientia physically rumbled. You’d come to distinguish their vibrations and grunts from one another by now, and could see that they found your question funny.

“Some. I try to keep my crop happy.”

“Sooo.. where are all the gross bugs?” you asked, peeking over the side of their palm.

Sientia sat. “Here is one, in the grass.”

With their free hand they plucked the animal right out of hiding. It squeaked and stirred, squirming in surprise. It was much bigger than you, but still smaller than Sientia’s hand. You were used to seeing your master chomp down on these creatures, but they looked so much bigger when wriggling.

Sientia gently set the insect down into their other palm, so the two of you could meet up close. However, they kept a firm finger to the bug’s back, to keep it in place.

It’s stubby, fat antennae twitched and flickered, prickly legs struggling to pull itself out from the weight on its back. Eventually it was still.

“Go on. It’s safe. This is Henhil, you may tell from the markings against the back and legs. This one’s first clutch hatched a few days ago, so we shall not keep her long. You hear this, Henhil?”

Henhil’s mouth parts chewed idly.

“Wow,” you whispered, fascinated.

They really did just… look like giant over sized Earth arthropods. This type seemed like a cross between a fat beetle and a mantas. Her body was covered in a shiny black, and her wings, legs, and face were lined with silver. Two stripes of green cut through the silver on each of her eight legs. Bugs still freaked you out, but this was truly an amazing opportunity. What Earthling got to boast getting up close and personal with Permian era insects?

“She’s very pretty.”

Henhil started to wriggle again, her energy returning. You stumbled away, mindful of the mouth, as Sientia went ahead and plopped her back into place.

“On, then. Back to your children. Is this what you were expecting [Y/N?]”

You sat down, the heat exhausting you and making you sweat like a pig. “Well, it’s definitely something you’d like to do. I mean, raising bugs.”

“Then you think you would truly like to utilize such animals in a future competition?”

In the excitement you’d nearly forgotten the real reason Sientia was introducing the bugs to you at all. You’d been in two competitions now, and had won neither. Somehow, the concept of horseback riding continued to come up. Sientia was fascinated by the horse. There were no horses imported off planet, which was a shame. The next best thing where Sientia’s crop of livestock.

The insects were horse sized, give or take. Some had a body shape well off enough to accommodate a way of riding comfortably. Of course, they were being bred and raised to eat. Not ridden. But that didn’t mean that some of the younger one’s couldn’t be coaxed into allowing a human rider onto their backs. Henhil’s new clutch was likely a good place to start.

So, did you think you’d be able to get over your squeamishness and ride a big ol’ bug for the sake of winning? Absolutely. Winning wasn’t everything, but it would sure feel great to win. Or, if not win, to at least get second place. You know it would delight Sientia.

“I think I’d like to try. Maybe tomorrow, when you show me her mate, we can take a peek at the babies too?” you shuttered. “Are they like… grubs?”

The translator did not translate 'grub’ very well, but Sientia got the gist.

“Somewhat. Let’s go inside, you appear over exerted.”

Sientia brought you to their face and nestled you gently as you gave a smooch on their 'nose.’ Then, they stood and absconded from the sweltering greenhouse.