#so if they ever did a festival for world circus day i assume it would take place there and their national language is french

[allsassnoclass]

19 & 57 for the 100 ways to say i love you prompt list? whichever pairing you vibe with for it 😊 -💙

okay roll with me here blue heart but let me give you some context for this. michael and luke are part of a youth circus. michael is an acrobat. luke is an aerialist. this is part of a larger universe that has not been written yet but this prompt said muke and i've been thinking too much about youth circuses lately.  there is not a festival for world circus day yet but if there was. whoo boy. it sure would be something.

muke: “Can I hold your hand?” and " There is enough room for both of us.”

The circus festival is huge.

Logically Michael knew that it would be, since it's the first World Circus Day festival and over 100 circus groups signed up, but it's still shocking to get to the festival space and see all of the people and tents.  They've been here for three days already and performed five times, but it's still boggling his mind.

Luke seems equally mystified but a lot more excited, so when he invites Michael to go exploring with him after their morning hand balance routine he accepts eagerly.  They've changed out of costume but haven't wiped off their makeup yet, but Luke is bouncing on his toes and already chattering excitedly about all of the other performances and booths they could hit, so Michael decides to forgo the makeup wipes.  Besides, Luke looks good in glitter, even if circus makeup is ridiculous and big.  Everyone else here is wearing it, so they're not going to stick out or anything.

At least, Michael won't.  Luke draws eyes naturally, especially when he's in the air.  He's the only aerialist that makes Michael want to stop being so scared of heights.

There are dozens of other performances happening simultaneously around the grounds, but Luke bypasses the offers of maps and a program and dives into the crowd instead.  Michael almost loses him immediately in the press of other people, and when he pushes through the bodies and finds Luke again Michael immediately snatches for his hand.  Luke startles, but doesn't pull his hand away, and Michael's stomach swoops like it did the first time he truly gained height on the Russian swing.

"Can I hold your hand?" he asks.  "It's too crowded.  I don't want to get separated."

"Oh," Luke says, face still flushed like it was right after they finished performing.  "Yeah, good idea."

He readjusts their grip, threading their fingers together, then tugs Michael forward again.

They find another performance soon enough, some contortionists from Sweden on a platform twisting around each other.  They watch for a few minutes, but Luke is still bitter that he's not flexible enough to be a contortionist so they move on quickly.  A sword swallower is next, which they watch for longer and with equal parts fascination and disgust.  Danger acts like that aren't taught at their school, and Michael wants to look away but can't find it in himself to.

"How does he do that?" he asks.  He's not sure if he wants to know.

Luke shrugs.  His face is doing something weird, a grimace mixed with curiosity, and they clap enthusiastically when the performer finishes but don't stick around to see what he does next.

Luke takes his hand before they move on.  Michael doesn't let himself read into it, because it's still crowded and Michael really doesn't want to get separated.

There's a Capezio tent, so Luke makes them stop because his are wearing out and he wants to see how much variety is here rather than at their local dance store.  Michael actually should see about ordering another pair before the fall session starts, but his don't have any holes in them yet so it should be fine.  His teeterboard shoes still work and that's all that really matters to him, anyway.

Luke is delighted by the fact that they have more colors than tan, white, and black, but there's not much to see when they're not going to buy anything and they quickly move on.

There's a booth selling cotton candy.  Michael immediately buys some and offers Luke a bite.  He takes some of the fluff and pops it in his mouth, then complains about how his fingers are sticky from just one touch.  For a split second Michael considers doing something ridiculous and gross like offer to lick the sugar off his fingers, but he catches himself and tries not to turn a noticeable shade of red.  Thankfully, Luke is already scouting out their next stop.

The next stop happens to be one of the larger tents on the grounds.  Luke grabs Michael's hand again and beelines for it, stopping short outside and checking his phone for the time, then the schedule for when the next act will be.

"Come on, we're just in time!" he says, pulling Michael into the tent.  He wants to ask what they're just in time for, but the two straps hanging from the ceiling give him a pretty good idea.  At least it's not high wire.  Michael's heart still hasn't recovered from watching Ashton do that without a net, even though he knows that he had a harness.

"I think I see some spots over there," Luke says, pulling him along again.  They pass by other audience members to get to one of the benches near the middle.  The woman near the end scoots over a little when she sees them coming and Luke beams.

"Come on, there's enough room for both of us," he says, plopping down.  He may be right, but barely.  If Michael wants to fully fit on the bench, he has to sit pressed fully against Luke from shoulder to knee.

Luke also hasn't let go of his hand yet, which Michael definitely is still not reading into.  Nope.  No reading happening here.  In fact, Michael is illiterate.

Luke squeezes his hand excitedly when the audience lights dim and the stage lights come up, a voice announcing the performers and country of origin in French, English, and what's probably Russian, given that that's where the performers are from.  Luke watches with rapt attention as two men enter the ring, then the music begins and they start their routine, full of lifts, tricks, and impressive displays of strength.  If Harry and Louis had been a bit stronger, Michael thinks that the duo straps routine from last year's summer show probably would've looked a little like this.  It's impressive, but what's more impressive is the way the stage slight still shimmer off of Luke's makeup and the delighted laugh he gives when the performers do something he hadn't predicted.  He's completely reeled in, smile wide and eyes lighting up like fireworks with each trick.  Watching his reaction is almost better than watching the performance itself, although Michael would never tell him that.  Luke gets offended every time Michael reminds him that aerial acts aren't for everyone.

"Did you see that?" Luke asks excitedly, leaning closer with his eyes fixed on the arena.  He glances at Michael and stops when their faces are about an inch away.

"What?" Michael asks.

Luke's smile shifts into something softer.

"I think they're getting to the finale," he says instead of actually replying.  "You should pay attention."

He turns his gaze back to the performers, hand flexing in Michael's grip.  Michael looks back at the ring where the performers are holding each other up in the air.  He still finds himself in tune with Luke's reactions more than the performance, noticing every sharp intake of breath and relaxed exhale when a trick lands.

When the performance ends, Luke finally detaches their hands to clap.  Michael tries not to mourn the loss.

"Do you want to keep watching these guys?" Luke asks, leaning close to be heard over the cheering.  "I think they have a few more routines, but acrobats from the Chinese State Circus are going to perform at the East Tent soon.  I only really wanted to see the straps routine, anyway."

"Do you have the whole festival memorized?" Michael asks.

"Just the things I thought you'd want to see," Luke says.  "Also, Lena is here, so Ashton wants all of us to see her German wheel routine and say hi, so we're going to do that in the afternoon."

"Oh," Michael says, still stuck on the fact that Luke specifically looked up the things he thought Michael would like.

"Come on," Luke says, nudging him towards the entrance.  "Let's go see the Chinese State Circus."

Once they get outside, Luke takes his hand again.

They pass by a trapeze set up on the way to the East Tent, and Michael's stomach swoops when he looks up and sees the performers so high above them.  Luke just continues pulling them forward, though, and Michael thinks that his feelings about heights are no match for the acrobatics his stomach does when Luke glances back and smiles at him.

[yostresswritinggirl]

Hi there. Can I request a poly relationship with Albedo, Xiao and Scaramouche ? A mix of fluff n a pinch of smut is this possible ?

First of all, what the fuck gave you this wacky idea? I thought at first, wow, this is so random, how did they think this. But then upon making the banner- IT'S ALL MY HUSBANDS IN ONE FICNWOFHLSNDLKSBSOANA

I'll do my best but oh gawd, I'm just so baffled right now HAHAHHA- brain juice GONE

Three Shorties Convention

Poly Relationship with Scaramouche, Albedo and Xiao... (event masterlist)

HOW?!

Three individuals from three different nations somehow collated to love a single human, that of which is you. With how wide your range is for such individuals, we can greatly assume that you are an adventurer travelling the world.

You first met Scaramouche who was undercover, on the way to Mondstadt/Liyue through boat. As he was in the down low, he made sure to act friendly to avoid suspicion. When he heard you were on the same path, he thought of using you as an alibi.

The next person you came across was Xiao when you were passing by the Inn. You heard of the Adepti residing in the area and wanted to ask for blessings as your journey would be much more confusing and dangerous. You lit up incense and a small prayer before leaving.

The last person you met was Albedo. Mond was your last destination before you laid low again until your next long expedition, and you were looking for Alice who you met long ago during your expeditions. You last heard about Mond from her and wanted to talk to her about your adventures but ended up empty.

What made them stay/intrigued? For Scaramouche, he saw you messing with the meteors and your theories, your disarrayed thoughts and ideas somehow made sense when he looks past the lines. And you ended up being the reason he found the large piece of meteor in that... island thingy.

For Xiao, it was the incense I mentioned earlier. It was something you got as a souvenir from a commission in Inazuma, and the scent it gave off brought him to Teyvat Nirvana, the voices silent and his body soothed. His curiousity got the best of him as he tracked your path.

And finally, you first piqued Albedo's interest when you mentioned your affiliation with Alice, and when he listened to your stories (you forced him to listen since Alice was not there) it remindee him greatly of his master.

All of them were attached so badly that on your way to the wilderness one day, the three of them ended up confronting you in some kind of JJBA way with you in the middle. Their Visions and weapons were raised in worry until you identified how you knew them all.

And when they found out of each other's interests towards you, they grew more wary but turned to you: who was busy picking up a mint flower to truly understand what's going on.

"I like all of you!" Somehow all three of them were smart enough to realize that you hold at least a drop of endearment for each of them.

It was supposed to be a silent competition, that then ended up to an ambiguous relationship through coexistence. The problem here is: all four of you barely understood the grounds of a proper relationship, and delved deeper into this polyamory without a second thought.

Equal Thirds

Oh geezus, this is the most confusing setup you've been through. Having to juggle between three continents, three men, three different occasions. They were so petty to the point that your schedule must be split EQUALLY or else the other two would ambush the place you would be in.

Albedo is the busiest and lax when it comes to your "relationship schedule." As a person of Alchemy, he takes days buried deep into his research and he is more than thankful for the existence of a schedule, as he struggles with the maintenance of human relations a concrete time and day for when he is needed balances this. Albedo requests your presence during the period after his major experiments where he wishes to unwind and empty his brain of the equations and machinations. His type of love deals with comfort and distraction.

Xiao has the most free time in your relationship in terms of work, but he is also the one tied down strictly to his code of conduct. His time with you comes from your visits to Liyue and he will always be by your side whether you're in the outskirts or within the mortal realm. His type of love, ironically, is filled with longing touches and whispers of adoration for your strength and light that silences the voices in his head.

Scaramouche is the neediest boy in this bunch, the most mortal of them and the farthest from your reach. Your relationship is a secret to everyone especially the Fatui, but he makes sure that every agent in Liyue and Mond does not lay a hand on you or else he's breaking that same limb. Your time with him comes when HE comes over no matter where you are or what you do. His 'love' is filled with materialism and feisty aura, revelling in strenght and power dynamics.

When you're in charge of the schedule is the rare times that all three of you are together, because you plan your expeditions well in par with their seemingly conflicting schedules. Soon enough you four would be a whole team of travellers going around Teyvat to indulge whatever curiousities you lay upon.

"Circus Festival in Fontaine? Sign me and my three boys the fuck up. No complains, I know you're free."

Camping and travelling with them is sooo convenient too because they're all incredibly strong in constitution and battle. You only need to hang back and watch as they bring you a fireworks of elements, which are thankfully not very harmful against each other.

You're NEVER hurt or even TOUCHED when they're with you, they always have keen eyes for danger and always stick close to you to make sure you are safe. But on a RARE occasion that you DO get hurt, they have a formation: Albedo is tasked in retrieving you, Scaramouche is the backup in clearing a safe area for possible first aid, and Xiao lets all hell break loose once you three are gone.

They help out as much as they can whenever you all go out to camp but ultimately it ends up being some kind of adventuring class for the three of them since you're the master in this field.

Cute stuff: You never keep watch because they always want to cuddle, so one would be up and the other two would be cuddling you on both sides, and the rounds would switch between them while you have your beauty nap.

Albedo is pretty chill with the other two, but Scaramouche and Xiao seem to have a tension between them due to his Harbinger status. Xiao is wary and protective of Albedo because of the knowledge of his background coming from Morax. And all three of you deal with Scara's chattiness.

Your Pet Names for them! Scaramouche: Darling; Xiao: Sweetie; Albedo: Beloved. If you go beyond that, they start to see favoritism so you picked them carefully.

Their Pet Names for you! Scaramouche: My Dear; Xiao: Beloved; Albedo: Sunshine.

Soon enough, their soft rivalries turned into friendly coexistence and they would start to at least see each other in a better light besides acquaintances. While nothing physical or lovey-dovey would happen between them as they only ever see you in that way, they develop respect and slight trust. Competition long gone as it dissolves into compassion in protecting you and giving you the loving you deserve.

@albaedhoe @struggljng @heisenwurst @moaa @dandelion-dreams @witchsungie @lehra @kookieyachi @struggljng @zelos-simp @legionqueensav @snackgod @rxsalinee @cala-ran @wind-wheel @lilydewi22

Softcore under the cut! No looking, my children

In this relationship, individual and multiple participating intercourse is normal, and they happen when all parties involved are ever comfortable. With the fact that you'll change continents in mind soon after, the boys have their little rituals with you.

The most prominent of all would be Scaramouche's signature hickey on your neck. He sucks it hard enough to make it stay for WEEKS, so that when the other boys move to kiss you on your neck, they see the apparent mark and groan to themselves in defeat. It was your sensitive and ticklish spot, and he makes sure he owns it.

For Albedo, he almost always (probably in a kink way) do it with you on a surface that's NOT the bed. Table, chair, sofa, his lap, it seems that the bed is a sacred place for rest. And he usually ends up doing it when he is about to finish his work, hence the convenience of such furnitures. You were conditioned to the point that if you even just innocently lean on a furniture, your mind and body immediately snaps back to those moments, making you back off with a flushed face.

Xiao is the most innocent and yeet friskiest of them all. He loves to litter you with kisses all over your body, no bites and no scratches, just innocent flutters of his lips that makes you tingle. But such moments of lovemaking... seem to always happen on the Inn's balcony. Most of the time it's when the door leading there is closed for the night, but you were sure there were occasions that someone at least knew or saw what was happening, but you two were too drowned in pleasure to notice.

Whenever all four of you were to participate, safe words are always emphasized. Because you're suffocating right after between their bodies with all holes filled to the brim with them. Usually the formation goes as: Albedo behind you, Xiao in front and Scaramouche in your mouth. They may switch up when you still have the stamina but that's their default order, and yes, you orgasm multiple times and are overstimulated a lot. To the point that you're getting used to it.

It's a golden rule to always shower before and after your session, and they would be very caring and gentle during aftercare. With this arrangement, you always have a large bed rented or in your arsenal for a huge cuddle session at night.

[keilemlucent]

a night less cold

(r18+)

hawks | takami keigo x reader

ao3

word count: ~7.8k

beta’ed: @hawnks

happy birthday pro hero hawks! who’s ready for a night of dazzling and drinking?

you aren’t.

warnings: soft hawks, sick fic, hurt/comfort, a wittle angst, horny shit, fucking while sick, a wittle daddy kink 

...

a/n: happy birthday kei 🎉!!! happy to celebrate with a classic little slice of hurt/comfort and horniness <3 i’ve never done a true sick fic, so here’s a wittle bit of that as well!!! 

thank you for reading and enjoying this year, and being here!! i’m endlessly grateful and just :’^) full this day. enjoy loves 💕

|||||||||||

Keigo’s birthday was, historically, quite the spectacle. 

It was tradition that his once-budding, now-thriving agency would host a massive, grand party at a local venue, either an upscale club or dimly-lit, luxury hotel. Keigo would splurge his personal funds on the best music, food, and drinks that money could buy. There were popular DJs, the best and greasiest foods he could bring in, not to mention an open bar on every floor of the festivities.

It was quite a press event as well. Paparazzi and reporters would line up outside of the venue for a few quick words with heroes and socialites as they spanned the red carpet, colored like the vibrancy of his wings.

The event thereafter was debaucherous, obviously, according to Keigo, and quite a media circus as well. 

And this year, you were going as his partner and date, also obviously. 

The year prior, you and Keigo had still been relatively secretive about your relationship, but as you’d become quietly public in the recent months, Keigo was itching to show you off.

...

December 27th, you awoke in Keigo’s massive, soft bed to his soft humming and low coos, one of his more birdish qualities. The floating sound echoed from his chest to your ear that laid snug against it as he ran his fingers slowly around the shell of your ear.

As you cracked your eyes open, you immediately noted that you felt a bit... off. There was a sticky dryness in your throat that definitely hadn’t been there when you laid down the night before, at least not as strongly. 

You opted to ignore it, tugging Keigo closer by the small of his back and kissing his naked collarbones.

“Mornin’” You yawned, blinking sleep from your eyes. “What time is it?”

Keigo’s humming seized as his hand moved to run slowly up and down the back of your neck, “Early. Get some more rest.”

Shaking your head, you propped your head on your folded arms, regarding Keigo with a quiet reverence.

He was too pretty, it stunned you, most of the time. Even with a mop of slept-on blonde waves and the blushed lines and creases of the sheets on his cheeks, he still looked like some gracious god carved him from amber and marble. With the sheets pooling at his waist and a smirk growing on his lips, you couldn’t help smile back. 

“You’re staring,” Keigo grinned without a hint of ire. “It’s cute.”

“You’re cute,” Heat pooled in your chest. “Happy early birthday, tailfeathers.”

“Why, thank you,” He lit up, wings puffing behind him as he tugged you closer by the waist. “I’m very excited for you to come tonight, you know. I get to show off my cute little dove to the prying eyes of the world.”

“Showing me off? I’m flattered,” You mused, leaning into his heat. “I’m excited too.”

Keigo took a quick pause before tilting your chin up with a single finger, “Are you sure you’re okay to go tonight?” 

“Of course!” You beamed, nuzzling into his neck and ignoring any odd aches in your sleepy muscles. “Why wouldn’t I be? Getting cold feet, birdy?”

He rubbed up your spine, dropping a kiss onto your crown, “You were coughing a bit last night, dove.”

That was news to you. It explained your gummy vocal chords.

“Dry air,” It had to be, right? “Just gave me a dry throat.”

Keigo didn’t look fully convinced in the sheets, feathers ruffled and forehead furrowed.

It was easy to smooth it away with a quick pounce, straddling his hips and kissing him breathless. A bit of an early birthday treat, you supposed, as you nipped and sucked down Keigo’s neck, the little jerks of his hips and swallowed groans only spurred you lower, down to his naked collarbones, grinding down on the hardening bulge in his boxers briefs—

Until your throat began to sting a bit too much for comfort. 

You turned your head away, covering your mouth with the back of your hand and clearing your throat.

“Dry air?” Keigo asked with a lopsided grin, hands moving from their wide splay on your inner thighs to around your ribs, coaxing you back into the sheets.

“Feels like it.”

You tried to brush off the feeling, though it lingered as the two of you readied for the day. 

A shower was had, steam filling the bathroom as you both sleepily washed each other. It was early enough to indulge in some chaste (and not-so chaste) kisses between washing each other in the spray.

Water poured down from the ceiling-mounted shower head, slicking the two of you with heat. Your head laid against Keigo’s chest as he washed your back, gently swaying your bodies with the tips of his wings against the dewy walls of the shower.

Resting against his chest was a comfort, so early. The day was packed, and you both knew it. A bit of respite before the chaos was much needed and incredibly welcomed. 

“Are you sure you need to go to work?” Keigo whined, the pads of his fingers dipping into any tension in your lower back. “I’d love to keep my little chickadee by my side all day.”

You sighed, “You know I would, but I’ve got that report due today and I think my boss will kill me if I don’t get it in on time.”

Keigo huffed, giving your ass cheek a little pinch. It worked to his favor as you yelped, falling against him. You felt him smirk against your wet hair.

“You could always just quit--” Keigo reminded you, a long-standing offer once more put directly on the metaphorical table.

...

It had become quite obvious that Keigo really loved taking care of you. It helped him in unspeakable ways that he had trouble describing to himself, let alone you. As much as he was considered lazy and brash by his colleagues, regarded as too much and too blunt, often to the point of detriment, he was nothing if not goal-oriented.

He just wanted to rest.

Keigo would give the world to just laze around, preferably and hopefully with you, as much as he could while still being a hero. Trouble was, he wasn’t built for loafing about. His years at the Commission truly altered the way his mind and body ran, permanently. It wasn’t something he was ever very explicit about with you, or himself for that matter. All of the brutal training— disgustingly long days with late nights and early mornings, harsh tests or endurance and stamina, and the pushing and pushing of his speed had a great side effect.

He couldn’t rest most of the time.

His body wouldn’t, couldn’t, as with his mind. Whether he was at home lounging or taking a break at his agency, he was always on guard, mentally sprinting for the next moment, and often without cause. It kept him constantly poised, tense, and on edge.

But when you came into his life, that slowly began to change.

It didn’t happen too early in your relationship, the beginning was slow after all. Lots of dancing around each other's feelings, banter and flirting which both of you equally were equally enraptured by the other, but assumed it was all baseless.

It hardly was.

Slowly as you too became closer, sharing space and nights twisted in the sheets together, early morning cups of coffee and little experiences Keigo never imagined he’d have with another person, something started to shift. 

When you started to settle in his life, Keigo had something to take care of and god, did it calm him. His need to be constantly moving, doing something, was still there, but when you were settled in his arms, he had something to do— many things to do. 

He had the privilege of taking care of you.

You were far more than an outlet for his energy, that would be a complete reduction of your relationship and you, but it was one of the many things Keigo was so grateful to you for.

...

You sighed wistfully, “Maybe someday, love. For now, I gotta get out of here, I don’t want to be late. And neither should you.”

“Aw, babe,” Keigo pouted, grabbing your ass with two hands, massaging at the residual suds in time with your budding whines and gasps. “Not even time for a quickie?”

“Later,” You slapped his hands away playfully. “Have you ever heard of ‘birthday sex’, love? You’ll be getting plenty of it.”

Keigo gave you one of his signature golden grins, cupping your jaw for a few more desperate kisses before you both exited the shower.

He helped you towel off, starting from your ankles to your thighs, lips trailing with promises of the coming day. They stretched up to your ribs, little nips placed on the underside of your breasts before he dried them. You watched his wings ripple and shift with each brush of his lips, obviously getting off on the treatment as much as you were. 

Fuck, did you adore him with your whole heart.

As you both dressed for the day, Keigo checked in, ever attentive.

“I’ll pick you up at your place this evening around eight, be dressed and ready for me, okay baby? We’ll go right to the venue.”

You nodded, reminded of the gorgeous (and pricey) outfit he’d treated you too, fitted just right and coordinating perfectly with his own outfit. It was the perfect match, absolutely ideal to show yourselves as the pair you were. 

“Perfect, I’ll be ready, done up and waiting,” You glowed with the thought, ignoring the twinge of pain, deep in your muscles. 

Nothing a cup of coffee and a few extra stolen kisses wouldn’t fix. 

You dressed quickly, rushing off to the subway as Keigo took off from the wide balcony of his apartment to prepare for his own day of preparations for the celebration.

The party would begin that night and wear into his birthday, midnight sounding would mean a round of shots for anyone who could still stand and a jeering of cheers for the beloved number two hero.

Meanwhile, you and your still-dry throat scampered off to work. 

...

It proved to not just be a dry throat. 

As you sat down at your desk to begin your shift, a little twine of dread had wormed its way into your ribs as an odd exhaustion settled in your bones.

As your shift began, a myriad of symptoms arose.

The air felt cold, too cold for what you were used to at your office. The cardigan your kept handy hardly did anything to keep out the unnatural chill. You took note of it with a few quick glances at your coworkers, all looking perfectly temperate in blouses and dress shirts. 

The knowledge did nothing to soothe your chattering teeth.

Next came the headache, a pounding behind your eyes as snot began to ooze from your nose, a little pile of tissues filled your small trash bin. In an act of desperation, you chugged your water bottle, hoping it would quell some of the stabbing pain that was stuffing your skull. 

(It didn’t.)

After your vision went double looking at your monitors, you relented and laid your head on the flat of your desk.

The dry throat you’d had worsened next, little coughs turning into hacking, dry wheezes that couldn’t be ignored in the din of your workplace. You covered them the best you could, trying to put on your best face as you slowly and painfully completed your due report. 

All the same, someone must’ve spotted you and your poor state as you were sent home shortly after.

It wasn’t even noon yet.

You tried to rationalize on the subway ride home. 

Admitting to being sick meant that the entire night would be beyond fucked. It was supposed to be a perfect night to let loose and be open with your love, not one spent curled in bed and aching.

You had time, you resolved, you could fix this. 

Despite the fact that, even in your winter coat, you were fucking freezing, you convinced yourself that you weren’t sick.

You couldn’t be. 

The ache in your muscles was from sleep deprivation and fatigue, obviously. The winter air was the source of your burning throat and eyes. Getting sick wasn’t an option.

As you journeyed home, you made a vow to simply sleep off your ills. 

Nothing a little rest couldn’t fix.

You practically kicked the door to your apartment open, the sound hardly phasing you as your ears had begun to ring on and off on the ride home. You haphazardly dropped your purse to the floor of your small foyer, kicking off your shoes and padding to your kitchen.

You rapidly tried to think of some remedies while still hardly acknowledging any potential illness. 

Your first thought was tea, something herbal with lemon and honey tossed in to soothe your throat. The kettle was set and bubbling as you gathered your supplies for a cup that was sure to soothe you in full.

The kettle clicked off, and you poured the steaming water into your cute mug (a gift from Keigo) with shaking hands, ignoring the trembling and hyper-focusing on making sure the stream was in the correct place.

Was pouring water always this hard?

You ignored the thought.

Rather, you wandered off to the bedroom, praying the heat from the mug in your hands, scalding, would warm your shivering body.

(As if you weren’t already burning up.)

You hardly had sense left in you by the time you crawled into the sheets, ruffling them as you attempted to burrow in any heat they could provide. The chill of the unused bedding seeped into you as your teeth chattered. You couldn’t be bothered to even change from your work clothes, the thought of any nakedness sending a new sharp shiver through you.

You just needed a quick nap. 

As much as you wanted to sip away at your tea, your mind was going fuzzier by the minute. You sank into the mattress, steaming liquid (and the night’s coming events) forgotten as you fell into a fitful sleep.

...

Your dreams were sordid.

Vivid colors and loud sounds, hardly making any sense, but still, hardly fear into your cooking brain without reason. It blended into some horrid mix of sensations that had you tossing and turning in your sheets. 

...

Tap, tap, tap.

...

The sound made your ears burn. 

You groaned, shoving your pounding head into the pillow. 

...

Tap, tap, tap, tap.

...

It had to be a sound from the inside of your skull, it had to be with how much it thundered, the pounding in your head going harder with each sharp knock. 

...

Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap.

The sound was more insistent now, oscillating between your dream and reality. 

The pressure in your forehead wasn’t helping.

...

Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap— 

...

“What the fuck,” You audibly cursed, pushing yourself out of bed and awake as you could be. Holding yourself above the sheets, your swallowed back bile as your stomach rolled with new nausea. 

Your gaze drifted to a red glow in the room, your alarm clock— 

8:34 PM.

Oh.

Oh fuck.

Tap, tap, tap, tap— 

As fast as you could push your aching muscles to move, you slipped from the bed, whimpering at the chill of the cold floors and air. Shakily, you wrapped a throw blanket around your shoulders and padded to the living room.

Your stomach dropped as Keigo waited outside the balcony door.

His party was starting within the hour.

You hadn’t changed, showered, or done any sort of primping. Your outfit that was still hung on the back of your bedroom door, untouched and cold. 

Tears sprung to your eyes as you slowly made your way to the door, trying to avoid Keigo’s gaze.

Your shaking hands undid the latch. 

You swallowed back as many symptoms as you could, mind racing to figure how quickly you could get ready and if you even could. Makeup could be completed quickly, messily more than likely, but maybe Keigo could touch it up for you once you arrived. Your hair was a nightmare, but maybe you could tame it with a few extra minutes— 

As the door opened, you stepped to the side, wrapping the blanket tighter around you. Maybe, Keigo wasn’t upset with you, maybe you could get your shit together in fifteen minutes— 

Keigo’s hands went to his hips, wings tight to his back as a frown settled over his pretty plump lips. 

“... You’re not ready?” Keigo asked, stating the obvious as you rubbed a hand over your face.

“N-no,” You cursed at your voice strained and crackled. “Give me a few minutes, I fell asleep.”

You prayed your excuse would be enough. 

“... For how long, birdie? Are you okay?” Keigo hardly sounded upset, concern lacing his tone more than anything else.

You turned away from him, trudging back towards your bedroom. It was possible to get yourself ready quickly, it had to be you. The last thing you wanted to do was ruin his birthday with your tardiness (and sickness.) The fear spurred your steps to speed—

But Keigo was always faster.

He caught your wrist, tugging and spinning you back towards him. His hands, fingers wrapped in pretty gold rings, landed on your shoulders. His pretty ambers scanned you down, feathers ruffling as his frown deepened.

“How are you feeling?” Keigo asked, open-ended while his index and forefinger pressed to your pulse point, and his gaze flickered to the fat watch on his wrist.

“‘M fine, Kei’,” You murmured, weakly pushing his hand away. “Let me go get ready, I’ll just be a minute or two, promise.”

Keigo hadn’t looked angry since he’d stepped into your apartment, but his expression was souring in a new way. He pulled you close by the waist, lips finding your forehead.

You both stilled.

You knew you were fucked, with his lips so gentle and sweet against his forehead. He knew you were far worse off than you were letting on. 

“Dove,” He murmured, voice low and kind. “How do you feel?”

“S-stop,” You pushed at his chest weakly. “I’m okay, I don’t want to fuck up tonight.”

That made Keigo act, the air practically shifting as he scooped you up in his arms, throwing your arms around his neck as he carried you to your bedroom. Setting you onto the sheets, you wrapped your blanket around you tighter, stomach rolling and head burning with its ache and new tears pricking your eyes.

Keigo kneeled, settled between your knees, cupping your cheeks and continuing to look you over.

“Do you have a thermometer? I think you’ve got a fever,” Keigo asked, tapped your chin towards him when you tried to look away from him.

Ignoring his question (you had to), you bit your lip, “I don’t want to ruin your night, Keigo, ‘m sorry.”

Your words slurred as little tears began to drip down your burning cheeks. You rubbed at them with your blanket-covered fists.

Honestly? You felt pretty pathetic. The fever rotting your skull was definitely affecting your judgment, but you didn’t have the sense to care or rationalize. 

“Little bird,” Keigo softened, concern coloring his features. “You don’t need to worry about that. Can you tell me where your thermometer is? Maybe some pain medicine too?”

You shook your head, little tears turning fat as you lowered your head.

Keigo audibly winced, something you hardly caught with your sickness was swarming.

“Baby, don’t cry now, it’s alright,” Keigo assured you, pushing your hands away to take the task of wiping your tears away, the chill of the rings on his fingers almost burning. “Don’t worry about the party.”

“But, K-Keigo,” Your voice wobbled as your wrapped your hand around his wrist, over his watch. “You need to go, your party is soon.”

It was.

Your gazes both slide to the alarm clock nearby, the time steadily creeping towards the party’s official start time for the press. There were already scheduled interviews, you and Keigo were to be photographed and ogled at, him shining and dazzling in his signature, blunt way.

You were supposed to be on his arm—

Except, you were feverishly between his palms, crying steadily at the thought of missing the evening.

“Dovie, I need you to listen, please,” Keigo urged you, rubbing heat into your cheeks (even though they were already scalding). “You don’t need to worry about the party. That doesn’t matter. What does is that you’re obviously not feeling well—“

“I’m f-fine!” 

It was meant to be a strong declaration, something that would convince Keigo that your feverish state didn’t impede your ability to attend, or at least impede his.

“You’re burning up,” Keigo reminded you. 

Your tummy tossed and you shook your head.

He just kept talking, “I’m staying until I know you’re alright—”

That got you even more upset, shaking your head hard and fast even as your skull throbbed.

“No, n-no, no,” You pleaded. It was one thing for you to be unable to attend the highly-anticipated evening, it was entirely another for Keigo to be late to his own party, let alone fucking miss the event— “N-no, absolutely fucking not, ‘Kei. You can’t—”

You wept into his hands as hot tears trailed from the corners of your eyes to drip down your jaw.

...

Keigo’s heart hurt.

His hands shook, more-than-likely imperceptible to you as you sobbed in his hands, soon in his arms, as he sat on the edge of the bed to pull your burning body into his lap.

He tucked your face into the crook of his neck, playing with the hair at the back of your neck, unable to ignore how hot and clammy your skin remained, despite how you shivered and how your teeth clattered together.

You were sick and worked up, that much was for certain.

His wings flexed, the muscles bound-up and more tense than he would’ve liked. Worry laced his expression, his actions, as he tucked your sweaty and tear-matted hair behind your ear.

“It’s okay for you to miss tonight, there’ll be more times to do things like this together,” Keigo quietly assured you.

“But it’s your birthday—”

“That doesn’t matter to me more than you,” Keigo’s breath hitched with his own honest, full-chested admission. “It’s just a night, chickadee. I’m far more concerned with you.”

That unignorable itch and urge his chest flared, hot and bright as your fever and burning cheeks. He squeezed around your body, wishing he could absorb a bit of your hurt as his lips brushed over your temples.

“N-no,” You pulled away from him, shaking your head. “You c-cannot get sick. No.”

Keigo raised an eyebrow at your teary expression.

“I can do whatever I’d like,” He tilted his head sympathetically. “Which is why I’m staying—”

Your expression brightened in the same breath as you narrowed your gaze. Something about the heat swimming in your skull made things tilt and shift perspective. 

Why is he being so insistent?

“Are...” You swallowed around your words, hands folding in your lap. “Are you trying to get out of going to your own event?”

...

That might’ve been too much.

Even your feverish mind could tell you were being stubborn to a fault. The thought of Keigo taking care of you while you were obviously not doing well warmed you in an actually good way. 

And it seemed you were expressing that same brand of honesty that Keigo was so known for exercising.

You weren’t even sure how you deduced such a claim, but still, you’d ask, perhaps fanning the flame—

“... Looks like you caught me, little bird,” Keigo chuckled, something sad and low, chin tucking over the top of your head. 

You remained silent for a moment, head ringing.

“... You don’t want to go tonight?” You asked, softer this time. The rings on his fingers clicked as he drew absent-minded shapes over your clothed thighs.

“It’s complicated,” Keigo admitted. “I’d much rather spend the night with you, here.”

You were both silent for a while.

The last of your tears ebbed away as the thoughts of the evening of dancing and drinking faded. The outfit in its garment bag was forgotten as your hands buried into Keigo’s hair.

His hands played with the hem of your shirt, a reminder that you’d never changed after work, too sick to even crawl from your business casual dressings.

You broke the silence, voice crackling with a suppressed cough.

“The thermometers under the sink in the bathroom.”

...

Keigo returned after nestling you in your sheets. 

He had helped you from your work clothes, gently helping pull off and away your sweat-dampened blouse and bottoms. Gentle hands and nimble fingers slipped you into some sleep clothes, sweatpants and a long sleeve Keigo had left at yours some time ago. The slots that had been cut for his wings felt far too breezy, but the comfort of the garment being his far outweighed it. 

You wrapped yourself in it as you burrowed into the sheets.

Keigo sat on the edge of the bed, tapping the tip of the thermometer against your lips, “Open, angel.”

Your lips barely cracked open, just enough for the device to be slotted on the top of your tongue. A few of Keigo’s feathers trailed him, bringing a lukewarm rag that he sat on your forehead.

You shivered and let out a whine, giving him a frown as the thermometer beeped.

101.8 °F.

“That doesn’t sound good,” You muttered, burying yourself deeper. “‘M sorry again.”

“No need to apologize,” Keigo assured you once more. Despite the practiced steadiness of his tone, his wings were half-unfurled, poised and tensed. Nervousness radiated from him in a way that he prayed you were too out of it to pick up. “I just want to make sure you’re alright, dove, promise.”

You gave him a shallow nod as Keigo portioned out a dose of cold medicine into the provided cup, scrutinizing the line on the cheap plastic.

“Why did you plan such a big night if you’re trying to get out of it?” You asked, fisting the duvet. “You don’t need to, do you?”

“I don’t,” Keigo sighed, awed by how quickly he admits his inner workings to you (yet again.) “It is a fun night, a lot of fun. It’s just...”

He trailed off as he set down the sickly green bottle with a sigh.

Why did he plan such a night if part of him was goddamn ecstatic about the opportunity to bail on it?

“A lot. It’s just a lot.”

“... You don’t even like drinking much, do you?” You asked, rising up from under your many blankets despite your shivering. 

Once, Keigo did. His birthday was a time to get drunk on a bottle of too-expensive liquor on the floor of his too-expensive, too-empty penthouse while trying not to simmer in the loneliness that had become his norm.

“I used to,” Keigo said, a bit too wistful. “The party was just an excuse to not do it alone.”

It was far more fun to get shitfaced with a crowd of folks who saw him as beloved, even if they didn’t really see him. It was more entertaining to dance the night away, fill his room with pretty, tight cunts, one after the other than lay on the cold hardwood of his own floor, ignoring the clawing despondence that he couldn’t avoid as he got another year older—

Either way, alone or not, fucked up or fucked or not, he always felt rotten the next day.

“I don’t want you to be alone,” Your words were soft, maybe just for yourself, but Keigo caught them all the same. “I’m right here.”

“I know,” Keigo placed the little cup to your dry lips. “That’s why I don’t want to go.”

...

You swallowed down the medicine, grimacing at the taste and gagging. Your rolling stomach didn’t appreciate the flavor, bile rising in the back of your throat.

“Easy now,” Keigo ran a hand through your hair as another cup was placed to your lips. “Sip.”

You wrapped your hands over Keigo’s as you all-but chugged the water, even if your stuffy nose made it taste dusty and odd.

“Good girl,” Keigo beamed, pressing a kiss to your shoulders, urging you back into the sheets. “Can you scoot for me?”

You nodded, purring with the praise, and shifted only enough for Keigo to join you in the covers, perfectly windswept, styled hair mussed up against the pillows, outfit rumpled without a care otherwise. 

You both wrapped up the other in an instant.

Keigo was warm, as were you, even if you couldn’t feel it. Your body ached with each movement, your limbs growing heavy with the syrupy medicine.

“You should go,” You told him softly, speaking quickly before Keigo could disagree. “Just for a little bit. Fashionably late, and all. See some folks.”

“... I don’t want to leave you like this,” He squeezed you, burying his face in your hair. 

“I’m just sick, Keigo,” You frowned, little fingers pulling at his jaw so you could meet his gaze. “I’m not dying.”

Sure, you felt like absolute shit at that moment, but the tug of slumber was beginning to outweigh your symptoms. 

“Are you sure?” 

You didn’t miss the tremble in Keigo’s tone.

“Of course,” You rubbed your fingers over his stubbly chin and soft cheeks. “I’ll be right here, always.”

And both of you shared a quiet moment of understanding.

...

Keigo stayed until you fell asleep, though it didn’t take long at all. Your head laid on his chest, hot puffs of breath pulling from your parted lips as Keigo took to running his hands wherever he could reach. 

Your body was hot, hot enough to worry him, but he placated his protective urges (as much as he could) with the sound logic that you, indeed, did just have a fever, albeit a bad one.

Keigo left you with an array of feathers, settled around and up against your body, Your cheek was tucked into one of the broader ones, filaments remaining silken and soft. It would be a bit overwhelming, the sensation of you and your body with the crowds, paparazzi and sounds, but he’d manage.

He arrived fashionably late with a golden smile, and left unexpectedly early before the hour even struck midnight.

The turning of his birthday would be shared elsewhere. 

...

You were right there, just as you promised when he returned.

The rustling of fabric and feathers is what roused you, half-way and through your medicine-induced haze. 

There was the quiet sound of your dresser opening and shutting as your eyes recognized. 

Your vision was blurred, but you still outstretched your palm to Keigo. He was still changing, pretty outfit gone, rings and watch discarded onto the top of your dresser. He stood nearly naked, just in boxer briefs and his entirely unbuttoned dress shirt. 

“Pretty bird,” Your voice slurred as Keigo graced you with a lazy smile. “Get over here.”

“On my way, chickadee,” The smile in Keigo’s voice glowed, even in the dark of your room. “Thank you.”

“Love you,” You responded, hand falling onto the duvet, not nearly as uncomfortably cold as before. “So much.”

Keigo’s breath hitched with the common affection.

Sleepily, you wondered, “Has anyone told you that on your birthday?”

You didn’t realize you’d said it aloud.

Keigo was by your side a moment later, feathers returning to his full wings, body warm and comfortable and purely home. You snuggled into him, pulling him close with a hand around his waist, pushing weakly at the tension bound up in the fat he carried above his waist.

His wings rustled, settling half-extended over your mattress and undoubtedly drooping to the floor. Your legs tucked around his, his hands settling over your spine to count each of the vertebrae like it was the beats of a song only you too sang.

Keigo tried his best to ignore his own stray tears. It was easier to cry around you, either because he was so damn comfortable around you, or that you were a bit of a crybaby yourself. 

Either way, Keigo was grateful for it. 

You, in your feverish state, only felt Keigo in all of his rawness. The swell and crest of his breath, the tempo of his heart, the gentle hands and precious pressure he doled out against the tension you bore in your body, all were familiar but blessed no matter how many times you were graced by him.

Keigo wasn’t an angel, he was better than one, wings aside.

You cracked your sleep eyes open, palms around his jaw, cupping and caressing as was your rite.

Your gaze drifted just beyond Keigo to the glow of your alarm clock.

12:03 AM.

“Happy birthday, love.”

Keigo didn’t reply, only giving an audible swallow and a shaky swallow. You can feel his tears soak your fingertips. 

You kissed them away, licking at the salt with the tip of your tongue, relishing Keigo’s little giggles, all for you and him to share, just the two of you.

“I adore you, you know,” you admitted, though he already knew so well. “I love you, Keigo. Thank you.”

Maybe a few of your own tears fell as you pressed your cheek to his, kissing up and down his jaw, nosing at the beat of his heart under his jaw. 

Keigo layered love onto you, little repetitions, desperately returned, and shared affection. ‘I love you’s and sentiments too soft and important slipped between the two of you as sleep pulled you both under.

...

The morning came with the graces of a gentle, orange sun.

It stretched over the sheets, slipping in, uninvited but not unwanted, from around the thin curtains you had hung.

Once more, you awoke to Keigo’s little coos and hums, though he was far less awake. 

Before even opening your eyes, your lips found his own. Both yours and his were parched from sleep, sticky breath hardly pleasant, but neither of you minded.

You swallowed a surprised chirp from him, rolling your hips into his own.

Keigo stilled you with a gentle hand on the back of your thighs, gripping the fat and flesh with enough force to have you purring. 

“Mornin’, chickadee,” Keigo broke the kiss only to murmur against your lips. 

“Hi,” You pulled away to smooth your thumbs over his cheeks, still sticky from the night before. “I love you.”

And Keigo lit, matching with the rays that filled your room, “I love you too.”

You beamed back, not bright in that same way, but luminous all the same.

Keigo took you in breathlessly, the simpleness of you leaching all air from his lungs and unwanted thoughts from his mind. 

If Keigo was like the sun, all gold in the morning and red in dusk, then you were every other star that wreathed the moon. You didn’t see it, not the same way he did, but then again, only Keigo had the privilege of seeing the way how you exchanged pieces of yourselves with each other without fear.

The tenderness of that morning was far, far better than anything he’d had in years past. He missed nothing about the pounding of his skull from the liquor the night prior, the insistent need to piss out his sins and the clingings of at least a dozen perfumes from the night before.

Even that hot and fast burning ecstasy couldn’t compare to sharing the morning sun with you.

“How do you feel?” You asked, breaking Keigo from his quiet worship.

Keigo snorted, pressing his lips to your forehead, gauging the temperature, “I should be asking you that.”

“Sweaty,” You tugged on the long sleeve and bumped one of your now-naked thighs into his own. “I think my fever broke in my sleep.”

Thank God.

Keigo reached around you, rustling around for the thermometer, and placing it under your tongue.

99.3 °F.

“Looks like it,” Keigo let out a sigh of relief. “Do you feel better?”

“Mostly,” You nosed your way back under his chin for all the extra affections you could give. “Just tired.”

“We’ll have an easy day then,” Keigo replied, feathers rippling at the idea of a slow, free day in bed with you. 

“But it’s your birthday— “

Keigo cut you off with a finger to your lips and a sly smile, “And I would like nothing more than to spend it, like this, with you.”

You inspected his face for any signs of dishonesty. 

There wasn’t even one.

“Okay, then let me rephrase,” You huffed a little. “But what about birthday sex? I really was prepared to have you cum down my throat at least four times today.”

Keigo snorted again, flitting laughter bursting from his lips as he pulled you to his chest and smothered you with kisses.

“There’s absolutely nothing stopping us from fucking until the sun goes down, other than how you feel and what you’re up for,” Keigo reminded you, his hand drifting up to your ass and squeezing. The way you jolted into him with a little whine had Keigo already wanting. “I can make it nice and easy for you, little bird.”

You shuddered, hands drifting to the roots of his wings and teasing the small, silken feathers, “Why don’t you show me?”

Keigo needed no other command.

...

You knew Keigo could be so greedy with his touches. Some nights he’d take and take and take. He’d pull from you anything and everything you’d offer, leaving you gasping and stuffed-full with a happily broken mind. He loved stealing your breath with the pounding of his hips, stealing the sounds from your lips as they came, though you gave them freely.

That day didn’t feel like that.

“I want to be so deep in you, dovey,” Keigo purred, cooing from the back of his throat. His hand slipped between your clammy thighs. “Feel you all over.”

The pad of his index fingers ran over your clothed clit, teasing and wanting in the same moment.

“Y-you can have me any way you want,” Your voice had already gone gooey and high, pitching up and sweetened. “Wanna make you feel good.”

You rubbed at the apex of his wings, where the little feathers bled from the roots of his wings to the base bones. A low groan rumbled from his chest, one of your favorite sounds. Nothing got Keigo weaker than little pets and play to his wings. They were so sensitive from years of touch solely by his own hand. They were coveted, a part of the holy structure of his body that he hardly allowed anyone else to fully take in unless necessary, before you anyways. 

That was your privilege.

Keigo slipped your panties off, the cotton fabric discarded and forgotten. A moment later, your shirt followed, leaving you bear to him.

There was still the impulse to cover yourself. Keigo loved looking at you, his pupils wide as they traced over your curves night after night like it was the first time he’d seen your skin and curves. 

That morning, the feeling fell away quickly as you urged his own scraps of clothing off.

He was already hard, leaking from the thought and sight of you. You were hardly different, Keigo’s fingers teasing the lips of your sex and pulling away wet.

Without shame, he popped the finger into his mouth, sucking away your slick like it was nectar.

You tipped onto your back, pulling Keigo with you. One hand remained buried and busy with his wing while the other slipped between your bodies, wrapping around his pretty cock and stroking slow.

He gasped into your mouth as you thumbed over the head.

Smiling against his lips, you nipped and sucked his bottom lip into your mouth, enjoying your little moment of control.

Keigo stole it back quickly.

Carefully, he grabbed the back of your thighs, pushed your legs up and out. Before you had a chance to so much as whimper, Keigo slid a finger into your cunt, then two, curling against the bundle of nerves.

Your back arched, your grip on him tightened as you gasped his name like the last note of a hymn. 

And Keigo wanted more.

“Tell me if it hurts,” Keigo panted, breathless and strained as he adjusted your legs over his shoulders, bearing his weight on his arms that went to brace around your head.

“C-can I have a pillow?” 

“For your hips?”

“Uh-huh.”

Keigo gave you a flurry of kisses, a wordless ‘of course, I want to make you feel so good’. There was an art to wordless communication and Keigo was a goddamn masterful craftsman.

The pillow slipped was your lower back, tilting your hips up and cushioning them from whatever treatment Keigo laid upon them.

With a shaking hand, he removed yours, guiding it to his wings as he lined up his cock with your cunt and fucked into you in a single fluid motion.

The burn of it was enough to have you gasping, scrambling to hold onto his shoulders and tuck your face into his neck with a whine. Keigo soothed you without question, barely rolling his hips are you adjusted.

He settled over you close, chest brushing yours, the cold of the bars through his nipples always a shock, even when you expected it.

“M-more,” You whined, needy and sweltering with a tug of his wings. “Please.”

Keigo hummed, palming one of your breasts with a twist of your nipple, “But, you beg so pretty, little bird. What if I want to hear more? It is my birthday.”

It was, and Keigo wanted to be so close it hurt. He hardly had the patience for teasing, but when your voice got so syrupy and desperate, he couldn’t help but tug at your soon-to-be-fucked mind. 

Truthfully, what Keigo wanted most for his birthday fucking was to stuff you so good and full that your tummy bulged under the flat of his palm. He wanted his cock to brush and bruise the deepest parts of you until all you knew was the chant of his name as you came so well and hard that you fucking blacked out.

But, he had to be tender. 

Had to be.

“P-please!” You tilted your hips for more of him as if Keigo wasn’t already filling you up fully and perfectly. “Anything you w-want, please.”

“You mean it, little bird?”

“Uh-huh.”

And sweetly, perfectly, Keigo fucked you into the mattress.

There was some reverie in it, there had to be with the way you so gently carded through the hyper-sensitive, rounded feathers that stretched onto his back. It juxtaposed the way he railed and ruined your cunt, slick sticking your inner thighs and his pelvis with each thrust. 

Each motion went so deep, you swore you could feel it in your gut. Maybe, that was why Keigo was fucking you so close, with your bodies pressed together and sharing air and heat so closely, it was hard to tell where another experience ended and another began.

You didn’t expect the first time you came, your eyes stretching wide as your crest drowned you well and sweetly. You buried your face into Keigo’s now marked and bitten neck and let out a choked sob as your cunt fluttered around him.

Keigo took a moment to slow, as he only peaked with you, but he wasn’t ready to be done with you yet. His hips barely moved in you, just nudging deeper, and deeper— 

“More,” Greedy, such a greedy little whore. “M-more, please.”

Keigo chuckled, pushing some of his sweaty waves back, “Think you can handle it, little bird?”

Your face, hot with pleasure and eyes wide with want, went determined as you tugged on the wings, nails raking through the unpreened feathers.

“Fuck me like you mean it, K-Keigo— Daddy.”

Keigo stilled, raising an eyebrow, ignoring the flaring of hot, yellow fire in his chest, “You really want to push that button so early?”

“Were you planning to fuck me like a pussy the rest of the morning?” 

Where did your fire come from? You were sure, maybe it was the leavings of your fever, but you didn’t care. You wore your smitten grin as Keigo’s gaze darkened, pupils so fat and focused, the citrine of his eyes was swallowed whole.

Keigo slapped a hand over your mouth, squeezing around your jaw, and fucking into you once, sharper and deeper than he had before. Your vision nearly went white, body fucked over-sensitive once but still begging for more.

Greedy, greedy, greedy.

Gluttons, the both of you.

As per your request and Keigo’s deepest wants, Keigo fucked you so earnestly, deeply, and without holding back that part of you feared the bed would break.

Each cant of his hips had your tugging at his feathers, the twitch of his cock inside more than enough of a sign at how fucking wild your touch was making him. That wasn’t to mention the filth that rolled from his lips, pants and whines and groans and words—

“Daddy’s little bird just gives so well, d-don’t you?” Keigo’s probably bruising your cervix, but you didn’t have the mind to care. “Letting me t-take whatever I want?”

You nodded behind his palm, half shrieking as his hand slipped between your bodies, rubbing your swollen clit, hot pressure building up in your gut by his hand, just as you liked.

As much as he took, he gave.

It only took a few more moments for you to sob behind his palm, clutching as your shoulders as you came so hot and bright and well, your vision sparkled and went black.

With the way your cunt clamped down around Keigo’s cock, he came just behind, filling you so, so good. His hand flew to your tummy, eyes rolling back in his head as he felt himself fill you with fat cock and thick cum.

You gasped as you came down, panting and clutching at Keigo as he did the same. You hushed each other with des[erate kisses, quiet praises too precious and sacred to be written, but that could certainly be felt in the air that remained conjunct between the pair of you.

Keigo rose from your body, thighs shaking in time with your own as he lowered your legs on to the sheets.

You were both messes, covered in sweat and spit and sweetness, but neither of you cared.

“You okay, little bird?” He asked, soft in the aftermath, kissing the damp apples of your cheeks. 

“Uh-huh,” You gave him the best type of fucked out smile. “Can’t wait for more, it is your birthday.”

“And...” Keigo found himself speaking without thinking. “You’re here for it? All of it?”

He knew that, did he really need the reassurance—?

 “Every bit of it, lovebird,” You tacked on the nickname, rising on your undoubtedly sore hips. “Every moment.”

And he couldn’t be happier about it. 

 ||||||||||||||||||

thank you for reading!!!! 💕

ko-fi

[meeko-mar]

So I'm back with another terrible theory about the next part of the story (you're welcome) 

Warning for more Character Death 

So, there's a theory and a worry going around that Mama Inko was in the path of Gigantomachia and in the next chapter or so, it will come to light that she didn't survive(or let's say for the sake of hope that maybe she is just badly injured). It's floating around that Horikoshi said somewhere that he CRIED making 297. So. Uh. I wonder if it's just the general atmosphere of these recent chapters that's getting to him or if it is a particular part that got him.

I've never wanted this Inko Death Theory to be true, but I have considered something that's intriguing me now.

First of all, HISASHI, Izuku's father. Horikoshi HAS said that he'll come up sometime.

BUT. The burning question, and the thesis of my theory, is:

What will it take to bring him back into the story, into Izuku's life??

He has been absent this whole time, and we don't know why. We assume, as a fandom, I think, that he works overseas or something. We at the very least know that he's not an abusive figure because Izuku acknowledged in the past that he and Todoroki were brought up in entirely different circumstances.

So ultimately we can assume a decent, or at the very least, neutral relationship between Izuku and Hisashi.

But then wait, consider how much shit Izuku has been through in the last year.

- He "developed" a Quirk, about 10 years late when he was Quirkless before, and not only that, but it doesn't even resemble either parents Quirk(which can happen with mutations in universe, I think, but still)

- He got into a prestigious Hero Academy

***He and his classmates were attacked at the USJ, which was itself very publicized.

- He participated in his prestigious schools internationally broadcasted sports festival

***He was involved in Hosu, targeted by Stain, and while the world may not know that this kid and two of his classmates FOUGHT THE GUY and WON, the incident also ended with Izuku nearly getting napped by a Nomu.

*** He was even grabbed and threatened by Shigaraki himself at the shopping mall, which was a notable moment of anxiety for Inko.

***He and his classmates were attacked at a summer training camp, where there were injuries, traumatized students, one students kidnapped, and Izuku was absolutely MANGLED by his own quirk. This was ALSO even MORE publicized, the media circus really calling out said prestigious academy for putting kids in harm's way.

-Additionally, that led to the downfall of Allmight, Izuku's Idol who he's not really quiet about.

- This was ALSO a moment of extreme anxiety for Inko, so much so that she wanted to pull him out of UA.

-Izuku's training pays off and he earns his Provisional License....he mentions, candidly, texting his mom and All Might about it...but Not his dad.

***Not sure how public the raid on the Shie Hisaikai was, but Izuku was front and center of that. But in the manga, Inko does seem happy that Izuku made a difference for Eri. So a moment of Pride. And relief, because unlike when Izuku rescued Kota, this time he didn't destroy himself.

...and then, we come to the War Arc. And all the trauma, destruction, and the toll on Izuku's body that it's going to take once the smoke clears. Once again, a big incident with the students of UA, and Izuku's class in particular. Hisashi doesn't know this, but not only was his son involved and part of the casualties, but he was TARGETED by the super villain they were all after.

So after all of the above, every near death experience that Izuku has gone through, every moment that Inko nearly has a heart attack of anxiety over her son's safety, we still haven't seen or heard trace of Hisashi.

He never came home when his son was attacked or critically injured due to actual attacks on him and his classmates. We don't know if he ever congratulated Izuku on his successes. We don’t know how he reacted to his Quirkless kid suddenly manifesting a Quirk. We don’t know if he ever scolded Izuku over the phone for worrying his mother and telling him to be more careful. 

So my question is... after ALL THIS...What is it going to take for this man to come home??

My terrible theory is, it could be a death.

If Inko were to unfortunately be one casualty of Gigantomachia’s rampage, Izuku's father would probably have to come to Izuku. He is after all, Izuku's other parent, and therefore, he'll have to take over as guardian. He’d have to come home to tend to things like...a funeral, and legal stuff like wills. 

And then, this brings me to Izuku. 

It’s likely that if this happens, Izuku might have to move away, out of UA, maybe out of Japan. Because Hisashi would have to get back to his job eventually. He might decide that Izuku needs to come with him(and that would segway to the “Study Abroad” and/or Timeskip theories).

And IZUKU would be WRECKED emotionally. 

If there’s anything that makes him hit absolute rock bottom, when he was already thinking that he didn’t save anybody on that battle field, it’s gonna be a tragic loss of someone so close to him. It’s gonna be his world turning upside down, not only did the villains get away, not only is his teacher seriously and likely permanently injured, another lost her life, everything that happened to Gran Torino, Shoto, and Kacchan...but if he lost his MOM too?! 

But more than just that.... the fact that he couldn’t do a damn thing to stop/prevent it. 

One day, he finally just wakes up in the hospital and to his surprise, his dad is in his hospital room, and....his mom is already gone. 

I MEAN

DANG

If Horikoshi was wanting to go for a complete gut-punch to our already fragile emotions, this would be the way to do it. (And what, I ask, was enough to make this man cry when he wrote it!?)

So basically if the chapter reveals Inko has been killed(or injured), I will know that this is where Hisashi comes in.

If I see a cut-away to some strange man we have never met getting a terrible phone call in an upcoming chapter, I will know it’s Hisashi and likely we have had something bad happen to mama Inko. 

This is my theory that one might follow the other.

But then, I love Inko and hope that maybe Hisashi just finally gets some vacation time and comes home to visit under entirely pleasant circumstances. 

[cyclone-rachel]

i loved you yesterday || a wandavision fic

AO3 link

~

Vision came into consciousness- awoke- into this world loving her.

Loving Wanda- his wife, even if he can’t remember when they got married, or what they were wearing, how the proposal went.

He’s not even sure who proposed, or what their vows were, or how they made the decision to move to Westview, New Jersey.

(It’s supposed to be on purpose, isn’t it? They are an unusual couple- that was never in question. It feels right, acting out this role with her. They were meant to be together, meant to be here, and even more so recently, he wants to focus on the future.)

But when he’s looked at her, he’s thought that none of it matters. He’s there with her, and now with their children- and though he can’t remember how that happened either, he loves them too.

He still loves them, of course. Even with their rapid aging, he’s getting to know them, and learns more with each passing day.

(And what is loving someone if not truly knowing them, especially for someone who is incapable of forgetting anything?)

Wanda... she is a different story.

With her, he is at a disadvantage, in the way that anyone is- she has always been able to read him. It’s one of his favorite things about her, that she can understand people with such ease. And with him especially, when few people even try (and for obvious reasons at the moment, he can’t let them) ... it’s no surprise that he stays close to the only one he knows who really can.

But he cannot, as much as he’d like to (with her consent) read her mind, or gain access to her emotions. Their connection has become one-sided, at best.

Which is what frustrates him so, when they aren’t on the same page… and, given what he’s recently discovered, that happens to be much of the time- the disagreements bubbling right below the surface, cracks in their foundation as though the ground beneath their home will split open and take their new life with it once the two of them reach a breaking point. Something may erupt between them, and soon- he only hopes that their children won’t be among the casualties.

It never used to be a disadvantage for the two of them. They were always so in-sync, of the same mind, and no matter what happened before Westview, he believes that such was the case back then, too. And he wants to trust Wanda, when she says that she doesn’t know what’s happening, that even with her incredible powers she’s not truly in control of all of this.

He isn’t sure of what his original programming was, who created him and gave life to his systems. But he is certain- he cannot be selfish, and lose himself in his new role as a father, or put so much faith in his wife that he ignores those who are suffering around him. He has to, as unnatural as it feels, ignore the statistics telling him that Wanda is most likely telling the truth, at least until everyone else is safe.

(How long has it been, really? How long has Norm, for example, been here, connection severed from his family? Is his name truly Norm? What of Agnes, or Herb, or anyone else he’s interacted with in this town?

What of Geraldine, and her seeming disappearance from this world altogether?)

He knows that Norm was not specific, when he mentioned a “she” who was in his head. That, coupled with Wanda’s denial, could point to someone else being in true control- but then again, didn’t he seem to trust that only Vision himself could stop whoever this was? Hasn’t Wanda told him (he assumed colloquially, but…) that she had everything under control, and merely asked if she couldn’t when he told her she couldn’t control him like the others? Hadn’t she said that they didn’t need to leave, when he brought up the possibility? Wasn’t she about to dismiss his fears, make another choice for him that he didn’t ask for or have a say in, before they were interrupted?

Isn’t she the one who this “anomaly” is named for, from the perspective of those on the outside?

It’s easy enough to excuse himself, from the Halloween festivities. Especially with the re-introduction of Pietro- he and Wanda take the children, and he sets off alone, in the costume Wanda chose for him. He sees less and less movement as he goes- repetitive motion, stilted speech, those affected acting as though they are caught in a time loop, unable to be set free. And eventually, they don’t move at all.

He could release them- but it would just be worse, inciting even more panic, until he can figure all of this out, and reach those who sent the email to his office.

(S.W.O.R.D.

Doctor Darcy Lewis.

Words he should know; concepts he should be aware of… but it’s the idea of Maximoff’s Anomaly that makes him forge forward)

Vision sheds his costume (he didn’t want to wear it anyway, he feels as though he is wearing a costume every moment outside of his house regardless), and floats above the town wearing his true face, gazing down upon it all. The wind is… well, there is no point in describing it if it’s hardly there to begin with. There are lights, and sounds, but they seem to be clustered in one part of the town, and both are scattered around beyond it, only appearing sporadically once they reach the outskirts, eventually dying out.

There’s one road, that seems to encircle the town- and a car stopped right before it, that he stops to focus on. Vision lands quietly, not bothering to put his costume back on, before seeing that Agnes is the car’s sole occupant, dressed in a witch costume, her hair streaked with silver.

He talks to her. She seems to be more capable of speech than the others- perhaps because, in Wanda’s eyes, she is a major character, regardless of how far away she is. But she doesn’t look at him, and seems like she doesn’t know him… until he touches her head, using the same action he unknowingly performed to unlock Norm’s true personality.

She calls him one of the Avengers.

(noun: a person who takes revenge for an offense, a person who takes revenge on behalf of someone else.)

(He’s not sure what he did before to receive such a distinction, but from the context, he takes the name to be associated with heroism, and helping people. There are others like him- are they looking for him? Do they wait for him outside the boundary?

Was Wanda an Avenger too? Was that how they fell in love?)

She knows him- Agnes, if that is her real name, takes his hands and asks him if he’s there to help them.

Of course I am. Of course I will- I was already planning on it.

And I hope Wanda will, too.

She wonders why he doesn’t know… and then tells him he’s dead.

He wants to argue- but she sounds so insistent, and keeps repeating the word, perhaps so it will sink into him and stay there, among his essential systems. So he takes it, takes her telling him that Wanda won’t let anyone think about leaving, takes her laughter, until he puts her back under, his hand shaking ever so slightly.

She doesn’t notice. She doesn’t act like she’s looking at anyone out of the ordinary, as she wishes him a happy Halloween, and turns around- goes back to a place without dead Avengers or nearly immobile neighbors.

Then it’s him alone, at the corner of Rolling Hill Drive and Ellis Avenue, the stop sign below the street distinctions looking more like a warning than ever.

But still he walks forward, across the street, into what appears to be a field before him- until the air flickers before him, glowing brighter blue as he approaches. It seems to be a tightly-knit grid, or like static, red and green and blue, continuing to warp and flicker as he gets closer.

The part of the boundary before him seems to look like a door- or perhaps that is an illusion, what he wants to see, to convince him that this is the right decision.

(he doesn't need convincing)

But nonetheless, he places one hand against it, then the other…

And when he emerges, he’s aware of a red glow behind him. He takes one step, two, three- the boundary seems to hold onto his cape, he can’t quite pull it out all the way- and with each step there is more pain.

It hurts.

It hurts.

It hurts-

Focus. What do you see?

Cars. People. Lights.

Military?

They are all looking at me.

They are pointing their guns in my direction.

Someone is speaking.

“He really does want out, doesn’t he?”

It feels like he is straining against a magnet, one more powerful than he can imagine, as he falls to his knees- a part of him flies off, and he doesn’t care about retrieving it. He’s not even sure what part is gone. He suspects it doesn't matter.

A woman’s voice.

“Stop! He’s coming apart!”

None of them, besides her, are moving either, as he grits what humans would consider teeth, and tries his hardest not to scream, mind too overcome by hurt to think.

Another voice, but this time in his head.

Don’t worry, Dad. It’s all right.

Billy, he thinks, holds onto the memories of his sons as he continues to lose himself. He may die here, trying to talk to the outside, letting himself fall apart so nobody else can, but for them, for everyone else…

They’re worth it.

The woman on the outside is handcuffed to a truck.

“Help him!”

That’s right. But I don’t need it as much.

“Help!” he manages, hoping they can hear him- hoping they care. “The people need help!”

He’s reaching out to them, wants them to understand that he comes in peace.

(if they know him, and understand he's an Avenger, they will. But then again, they may not be so receptive to a message from a ghost.)

But his hand is coming apart, more of him is falling away. Soon, unless Billy or Wanda get to him in time, there won’t be anything left to save.

He can’t stand anymore. He lies on the ground, feeling as though his body is burning, thinking of his children.

Hold on, Vis.

Wanda.

But she’s not beside him- instead, he feels the barrier around him, encroaching on the world he has found himself in.

Then, suddenly, he’s back inside Westview.

He’s intact, and whole- Wanda has healed him.

But, he notes as he finds himself surrounded by a circus, she has also brought in new inhabitants- and he’s not sure how this will affect her, or how much longer she can keep Westview under her sway.

(How long will she be able to keep him, or their children?)

He doesn’t know if his message will get out. Doesn’t know if he wants to remember what happened to him on the outside as an Avenger, or how he died.

~

He doesn’t want to go home that night.

[dreams-of-the-arcana]

31 Days of Arcana: Day 10 Familiar

⚠️ Warnings: Implied animal abuse, panic attack, fire ⚠️

Ialonus was rescued from a traveling circus but things definitely did not go to plan...

Ialonus

Uh-oh

Simple and to the point.

The blaring sounds of knowing things are definitely not going as planned.

That was all Andi could hear over the loud pounding in her ears as she sat in the back area of the largest tent she’d ever seen.

‘Who decides to use a tent to house shows that include fire?!”

Only a few days before, Andi and Asra heard the news of a traveling circus stopping by outside the city gates while shopping in the market. Life had begun to settle down after Lucio’s brief reign of terror ended and perhaps the citizens could use some fun.

“I hear they have one of the largest displays of captive animals this side of Prakra!”

One sentence was all it took to put an end to any ideas of merriment in Andi’s mind.

Over the days leading up to the events, Andi tried to rationalize the information to herself.

‘They could be tame animals being treated very well? There’s no need to assume the worst! They could be happy...’

Nothing quelled the dark feeling in her gut though. So she began to form a plan.

Asra noticed the looks of concentration and determination in Andi and decided to let her come to him when she felt comfortable. Circuses and carnivals had always been a hard subject for her since her days on her own. Asra heard all the stories of her animal liberations from meat markets, private zoos, or poachers when they were teenagers. Now, Andi didn’t have any of those memories.

Asra tried his best to tell her a little when she asked, careful that she didn’t become overwhelmed. But the scars on her hands and arms from daring rescues were a permanent reminder of the time she’d lost.

No, she would have to do something.

On the day of the festivities the two mages wandered into the field where a whole world seemed to spring up.

Color screamed at them from every direction, the sounds of shouting or laughter reverberated off the flimsy walls, delicious and not so pleasant smells filled the air.

Andi spotted someone in make-up made to look like a fish juggling fire sticks while telling jokes. At the same time, Asra watched someone on tall stilts stepping over the crowds and tossing little candies below them.

Magic thrummed in the air as many of the performers weaved it into their acts.

Andi had to pause often in quiet corners to focus on her emotional shield. If even the smallest crack appeared, she’d be quickly overtaken by all the emotions swirling around.

The magicians wandered, awed, and ate whatever caught their eye until the sun had set.

As soon as the dark crept in, lights appeared to fill a strange looking tent in the middle of the field. Performers began herding the crowds into the tent with promises that the best had yet to come.

Andi and Asra allowed themselves to be swept in but stood near a door in case they needed a quick exit. Unfortunately, the best did not come.

A large sweaty man in obnoxiously bright clothing stood at the center of the tent and began to yell out his introductions. This was the Show Of the Beast. Andi gripped Asra’s hand a little tighter.

Inside the circle spread out in the middle, zebras appeared magically and started to run. Ooo’s and Aww’s poured in at the impressive sight. Dancers took to the middle and began to command the Zebras. It was all so organized. The Zebras moved as they were told, dogs ran in wearing little outfits and performed tricks, even a wolf appeared where they gave a good howl to the sky. The crowd loved every moment.

But by the door, Andi’s aura grew darker. Did they not notice the marks on the Zebras legs? The terrified look of those dogs? The malnourished wolf who walked with a heavy chain? Or did they just not care.

It was all too much for her.

Andi excused herself by telling Asra she was going out for some fresh air. He offered to come with her and even better, offered to go home early but Andi waved it off. Around the corner of the tent she took a deep breath. Slowly, her magic reached out to map out the inside of the tent. Animals were kept in a closed off area where the guests couldn’t see them but only one person sat with them.

Andi leaned against the canvas wall outside the room and seemed to slip through the surface as if it were only the surface of water. She tried not to pause and wonder where she’d learned that or how she even knew to do it.

Cages filled the room and the sounds of miserable cries came from all around. It broke her heart to hear but at the same time made sneaking easier. Ever so carefully, Andi pulled out her little lock picking kit and got to work. Once a cage was unlocked she pressed it closed with a little magic so all the animals stayed inside instead of bursting out in ones and twos. Then she spotted the lone guard whose chair sat right in front of a very large cage holding a very unhappy looking lioness.

Andi his herself behind some cages and closed her eyes. It was easier to use the kit but with someone so close she’d have to use magic. Lock picking was a delicate type of magic, she had to do the exact same process as before only without the physical tools or feelings. Essentially, Andi had to become the tools and the skill at the same time.

Precious seconds seemed to tick by so quickly as she focused on each individual tumbler. Clicks so faint sounded like canons.

Finally, the lock gave.

That’s when the plan fell apart.

Andi took half a second of relief after the lock released and apparently that was all it took for the lioness to form her own plan. Andi didn’t have time to hold the door closed before a strong force slammed into the metal doors. The lioness forced her way out of the cage and launched at the person guarding her. They screamed as they ran from the room and in the panic Andi accidentally lost focus and all the doors released at once.

Chaos erupted.

Screams of humans and animals overtook everything. Andi curled up on herself with her hands pressed firmly over her ears.

Too much.

Fur brushed by her skin.

Too much.

Smells of sweat and excitement.

Too much.

Smoke.

Fire.

Too much.

A small ball of golden light.

Too much.

Softness wormed it’s way into her arms.

Too much...

A heat radiated at her core...

A soft voice...

‘Safe’

Andi awoke in her own bed hours later clutching her core as if to hold onto the imaginary warmth.

Asra was by her side immediately and cautiously wrapped her in his arms. He held her tightly and whispered soothing words. As Andi came to her senses the memories of the night flooded back in.

“A-Asra?” Her voice cracked.

“Shhh, my love, you’re safe. You’re home.”

Andi nodded unconsciously.

“Wha-what happened?”

“There was a fire...,” he started then sighed.

“You kept a secret from me.”

Andi looked down at her lap in shame. Instead she saw an unexpected sight. A small ball of tan fur snoozed away as she clutched it to her. The warmth was real and coming off of this tiny creature.

“Asra...? What’s this?”

Asra peered over her shoulder at the lump.

“Oh, yes. I couldn’t get you two apart when I found you.”

Andi gently lifted the animal up to eye level so she could get a better look. Sleepily they revealed large blue-grey eyes and yawned so long pointy teeth were on display.

“This... this is a Lion, Asra.”

Andi stared in shock but the cub didn’t seem to care and started whining about his interrupted nap.

‘Sleep!’

“Asra! It talked!”

Realization hit Asra first and he reached out to lower her arms so the cub could lay back down.

“It is. They also seem to be your familiar because I didn’t hear it speak.”

Andi stared at the bundle in shock. Of course she’d always wondered when or even if she’d get a familiar but a lion had never crossed her mind. She’d always thought a wolf would be closest to her own temperament. Maybe even a housecat or a dog. Never something so wholly beyond their normal realm of animal life.

Then again, she wondered if that’s why she’d never found them until now.

“I just never saw myself as a lion-like person,” she mused.

“Isn’t that the point though? If our familiars were like us, we’d never learn anything from them. Instead maybe we find those who help us unlock another part of ourselves.”

Andi smiled, she liked that idea. Her face quickly fell though and she groaned.

“Feeding him is going to be a nightmare...”

[ask-the-good-creeps]

VP AU Hallowe’en Special 2020

//Hey, y’all! Sorry for the tardiness here! Finally got this posted; if you requested specific characters when I asked about it like, a month ago, they make at least a minor appearance. If you requested certain cue-words, they are here and they are bolded/italicized. The main type of genre requested was feel-good type of story, so we have a bit of that here and there. It is a bit long, so I put it under a read-more. Please enjoy this short story, and Happy Belated Hallowe’en! c: //

“Fancy meeting you here, O Seraph.” Zalgo greeted the newcomer from his seat as the other entity stepped into the room. Said room was enormous and spacious with high-vaulted ceilings to accommodate the abnormal heights of its occupants. The walls were made up of bookshelf after bookshelf, upon which rested a myriad of old tomes. There were a few pieces of antique-looking furniture that had obviously been well cared for despite their age, including a pair of unnaturally tall armchairs resting near the fireplace. A red-orange flame danced and crackled merrily beyond the moderately complex masonry of the mantle to illuminate roughly a third of the almost-Gothic architecture in the room.

It was a simple place with a touch of elegance; Zalgo’s style with a few welcoming details for his guest tonight – the one and only Slenderman.

“You did invite me. I don’t see why it surprises you that I’ve come.” The faceless creature responded as he moved to occupy the empty seat by the fire.

“An invitation offered is not automatically an invitation accepted.” Several of Zalgo’s mouths grinned ruefully as he closed his book and tossed it behind him. The thick volume defied the laws of gravity to tuck itself neatly back in its spot on a shelf. The Slenderman did not respond immediately, instead focusing his attention to the warm flames that lit the room.

“Why have you called me here, Old One?” Slenderman finally asked, “What do you want?” Zalgo feigned offense at the other’s questions, complete with an obnoxiously loud gasp and a hand over the still-smiling mouth on his face for an extra touch of dramatic flair.

“We have met here in Purgatory many times solely for the sake of conversation…why do you assume this time is different?” He offered a question in turn. The Slenderman regarded the demon for a moment, and if he had a face, it likely would have displayed a rather deadpan expression.

“Tonight is the Eve of Samhain, where the barriers between are weak. You can’t honestly tell me that you have no motive for this rendezvous other than a social call.” He folded his hands over his lap as he awaited an explanation from the other.

“Oh, you do see right through me, Seraph. I should have expected nothing less from you.” Zalgo’s grin never wavered as he observed his guest. He stood from his seat and began to pace the room slowly as he continued. “I want your help.”

“My help?” The confusion that was evident in the faceless one’s voice was further accentuated by the obvious quirk of the flesh where his brow would be. “We may not be enemies anymore, Old One, but I don’t remember ever agreeing to work together as allies.”

“I don’t mean it as a permanent partnership…just one small, specific task.” Zalgo replied.

“Why? You are capable of anything I am, you don’t need me to-”

“I want to meet my child.” The Slenderman paused abruptly, partly due to the sudden interruption that was so uncharacteristic of Zalgo in conversations, and partly due to what he was saying. There was a long pause as he processed the demon’s request.

“Even with the barriers between being as weak as they are tonight, I still cannot go to the living realm without unintentionally causing death and destruction on a colossal scale,” Zalgo explained, “Lazari, however, will be able to come here…just for a short while…but try as I may I have yet to find a way to guide her here.”

 “You want me to find her in the living world and bring her to this place.” It wasn’t a question – the Slenderman didn’t need further discussion to interpret what the other needed of him.

 “You wouldn’t need to find her. I already know where she is, and I can tell you. I just need you to bring her here.” There was a strange look in Zalgo’s eyes as he spoke. Slenderman had seen it before in that of humans he’d met, but never an entity of their caliber. He, himself could not put a name to it, as the faceless being had never experienced it.

They stared at each other for a while longer, each with his own thoughts, the silence around them broken only by the crackling of the fire. The Slenderman eventually stood up from his seat, his decision made.

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

 In a moderately-populated town on the outskirts of the woods, two young girls wandered through a brightly-lit neighborhood. That was far from unusual on this night – there were many children out in various costumes, all walking up to spookily-decorated homes to ask strangers for candy under the watchful gazes of older family members.

These little girls had no family to watch over them…but that wasn’t exactly necessary for poltergeists, now was it? Lacy Morgan was quiet as ever while they walked along, occasionally joining groups of living children at the doors of homes for trick or treating. While Lacy saw no point in playing dress-up, Sally was happily flaunting the incredibly-made costume Trenderman had prepared for her this year. She was dressed as the Red Queen of Hearts from the original Alice in Wonderland movie, complete with a green-dodo-bird-turned-croquet-mallet prop in one of her hands. She hummed a little tune to herself as they got closer to the “interesting Halloween circus” that “popped up out of nowhere” everyone in town planned to enjoy with their kids for the evening.

They eventually made it to the open gates of the Candy Circus and managed to wander in around the crowds of living people who had come to have fun. It was there that Lacy and Sally separated from each other, each with her own plans for the evening. Sally wandered to each of the booths, peeking around guests playing the games there in search of a familiar face…and finally she found one, though not necessarily the one she was hoping for.

The little girl walked through the back wall of the booth to appear behind none other than Hoodie – sans mask, of course. He didn’t notice her at first as he handed a stuffed animal prize to a little boy dressed as an alien; he jumped and just barely managed to hold back a scream when he turned around and suddenly saw her there.

“Where’s Masky?” she asked. If anyone knew where he was, it’d be his partner, right?

“I’m not sure,” Hoodie answered as he calmed down from nearly having a heart attack, “He isn’t here at the circus, though. He said he had something important to take care of before he could join us.” Sally’s face formed a small pout at this answer. She wondered what her big bro could possibly find more important than the festivities here. She got a hint to the answer as she felt a slight chill in her soul, followed by a strong tug back to that place.

She frowned and walked back through the wall of the booth, trying to ignore the unsettling feelings as she explored the circus. She heard loud and raucous laughter over by the Ferris Wheel and saw none other than one of the circus owners.

Candy Pop looked about to collapse with how hard he was laughing as he leaned on his mallet for support. Judge Angels was on her knees in a giggle fit while Helen stood nearby with the faint ghost of a smile on his lips. Sally wondered what was so funny. She stepped up toward the group, prepared to ask in hopes it would take her mind off the odd feelings she was experiencing.

“My word, Sally, dear, just look at you!” Candy Pop gushed as he spotted her. “That old fashionista has really outdone himself with his work this year…and I have to admit, he found the perfect model for that one!” The jester grinned as he danced around her to get the full view of the craftsmanship that went into her costume.

“I’ll tell him you liked it,” Sally smiled awkwardly as Pop came back to his original spot in front of her. The jester nodded while Helen helped Dina to her feet. She was still chuckling, and every time she almost managed a straight face the giggles would start back up again.

“Did you tell a really good joke?” Sally asked Pop.

“Oh, no, dear child – I told a story…a story of the most entertaining insult someone has ever tried to throw at me that turned out so amazing I don’t know whether to call it the worst or the best!” Pop laughed again, and Dina couldn’t help herself as she started up again.

“There’s no way!” The blonde spoke in between laughs, “There’s no way he actually said that!”

“Fortunately for us, and unfortunately for him – he most certainly did.”

“Who said what?” Sally asked, not wanting to be left out. It took Pop a moment to calm down. He took a breath to try and keep the laughter at bay and turned to Sally.

 “So…you know of Jeff’s brother, yes? The one they call ‘Homicidal Liu’?” Pop started. Sally nodded. She didn’t really know the guy, but she had heard of him at least. “He is the ‘who’ in this story. I ran into him a while ago and it looked like he’d had a rather dismal day, so I decided to cheer him up a little-” The jester was cut off for a moment by Judge’s laughter.

 “Alright, so maybe I wanted to mess with him more than cheer him up, but that’s not the point,” Pop corrected himself with a shrug before continuing. “Either way, I upset the man a little bit, and he started telling me to go away. But I couldn’t just leave when it was finally starting to get fun, so I didn’t. He got the angriest I’ve ever seen, and I half-expected Sully to take control and come after me with his knife, but instead, Liu proved his own ineptitude with swears and insults – which isn’t exactly an unadmirable trait, but still – by calling me, and I quote: ‘an anus-eating boner fuck dick-nose’…” Judge was almost back to her knees again as she covered her mouth in attempt to repress her loud guffaws as the blue-haired jester finished,

“…and no, I have no idea what that means, but I could feel Sully’s embarrassment follow me all the way back to my dimension.” The laughter continued as Pop shook his head in mock-disapproval.

“How did you even respond to that?” Dina managed to ask when she had gotten ahold of herself.

“I didn’t…for once, I had no idea how. So I just left.” Pop gestured wildly with his hands as he said it.

“You probably shouldn’t use those words while children are around,” Helen chimed in, “He may have put them together…strangely…but most of those are still swears.” He looked at Sally, who wore a confused expression. She wasn’t any more fluent in swears and insults than the average eight-year-old child, so she didn’t quite see the humor as well as the others did. Pop paused for a moment, then turned to the little Red Queen.

“Please don’t tell your proxy friend you heard me say those things.” He smiled at her, and she grinned mischievously.

“Maybe I will, maybe I won’t.” She giggled and ran off in the direction of the roller coaster without waiting for his reply.

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

 She had seen the circus, but Jane just wasn’t feeling up to it this year. She didn’t know why, but hanging out with everyone to be happy and celebrate just seemed like it would feel…hollow. She passed people on the sidewalk going in the opposite direction, telling herself she’d stop in for a bit later. She passed a stray dog as she found her way to a nearby park, and noted the familiarity of it. She’d been here before, but when…?

“Jane?” She turned around at the sound of her name to see a woman her age dressed in a wild, electric-blue wig, black pants, and a red shirt that was labeled, ‘Thing 2’. She was a little taller than Jane, with hazel eyes and dark brown hair that was a bit longer than it was the last time they met. Jane remembered her, and by proxy, this park where they had first spent time several years prior.

“Tatiana.” Jane spoke her name, suspicion clearly evident in her tone. She thought Kate had already hunted Tatiana down and killed her. The Chaser was never one to leave loose ends. The girl seemed to flinch at the coldness in Jane’s voice, but recovered quickly.

“I was hoping I’d see you again.” She said awkwardly.

“Why? So you could finish the job?” Jane replied. Jane didn’t know why she was being so bitchy here; she was certain what happened before wasn’t Tatiana’s fault, but she had to admit she was on-edge around her. She had never gotten a definite answer as to whether the girl was actually SCP or had just been brainwashed by them back then. Speaking of SCP, Jane kept her ears open and inconspicuously scanned the area for any sign that the Foundation’s soldiers may be lurking around here. She didn’t want to be taken by surprise again.

“N-no, I wanted to thank you,” Tatiana stuttered nervously. Jane regarded her silently, and Tatiana continued, “You saved me from Kate.”

“I still don’t know if that was a good idea,” came Jane’s retort, albeit a little less certain that Tatiana was untrustworthy.

“Why?”

“She might have been right. You may be working for SCP, trying to lure me into another trap.”

“No! I didn’t even know what SCP was until I looked it up later!” Tatiana argued. “I didn’t even know what your name was until I did a metric fuckton of Google research. I don’t remember how I ended up in that situation. I was getting ready to go out with some friends, and then I was waking up here, surrounded by dead bodies and you telling another girl not to kill me.”

Jane listened to her explanation, looking for any possible holes in her story. Her set of events answered a couple questions Jane had, but there were still a few things that didn’t add up.

“How did you get away from both Kate and SCP, then? Kate was determined to go after you later and finish you off, and she doesn’t make empty threats. Even if you got away from her somehow, SCP would’ve erased your memory at the very least to keep themselves secret. You being alive here, in this same town, with full knowledge of that night…it doesn’t make any sense,” Jane reasoned.

“I wish I knew the answer to that, but I don’t. After that night, I never saw or heard anything from Kate or SCP again. It was like it was just some crazy nightmare. After a while, I started to think that’s all it really was…but you’re here, so it had to be real.”

“Hm.” Jane didn’t know what to do here. She didn’t buy into what she was being told, but at the same time, she would never risk killing someone who might be innocent.

“What are you going to do?” Tatiana asked.

“Nothing,” Jane shrugged, “I’m not going to kill you, but I’m not going to stick around here and find out the hard way if you can or can’t be trusted.” With that, Jane left the park, determined not to show up there again if she could help it. There were plenty of other nice places in the world to spend her time where she wouldn’t have to be on high alert.

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

 “Jason! We’re supposed to be helping with the haunted house!” Lazari whined. The Toymaker in question looked up from his plate of fettucine alfredo as he slurped up the last of the noodle in his mouth.

“There’s enough people to handle it right now without us. Besides, I told you I’d need snack breaks if I came out to help for the whole night.” He shrugged and started to get another bite on his fork as Lazari pouted.

“A full plate of pasta is a meal, not a snack,” she stuck her tongue out at him and he rolled his eyes. He shoved his mouth full of pasta to the point that he looked somewhat like a chipmunk and Lazari gave up trying to get him to come help before he finished his food.

Instead, she walked off on her own. She circled the little church, happy to see people from the community having a good time. She walked over to a little table surrounded by balloons and set up with bowls of candy where Father Daniel was talking with one of the local families. They finished their chat and parted ways with a call of, ‘Happy Halloween!’ to one another, and Lazari took the opportunity to sneak up behind the priest and startle him with a loud yell.

“Oh, Lazari, please don’t do that. You know I’m just an old man and a heart attack isn’t how I’d like to go.” He told her.

“Sorry, Father,” Lazari giggled. “I tried to get Jason to come back to the haunted house with me, but he’s busy eating.”

“He likes sugar that much, huh? We’ll have to be sure he leaves enough candy for the kids.” the priest joked.

“No, he’s eating pasta, not candy.” Lazari smiled.

“Pasta? Where’d he get pasta at this hour?”

“He probably brought it from his workshop,” the little demon girl shrugged. She looked away toward the tree line and her smile dropped. She found herself looking straight at a certain someone she didn’t want to see here. Even if he wasn’t so much the ‘bad guy’, when the Slenderman showed up somewhere it usually wasn’t good news. The entity seemed to be watching her, and she got the sense that she was the one he was here to see.

Whether that was an accurate assumption or not, she decided to find out what he wanted. The sooner he had what he was after, the sooner he’d go away. She excused herself quickly and made her way toward the trees. The Slenderman was no longer in sight, but she knew he didn’t just leave. She walked out of sight from the church, deeper into the foliage. She found herself in a very small clearing.

“You know it’s easier to talk to people when you’re not playing hide-and-seek,” Lazari called out when she was sure she was out of earshot from the humans. Nothing. Lazari crossed her arms and huffed in that pouty child way. She turned when she heard twigs snapping behind her and saw Father Daniel stepping into the space.

“Lazari, who are you looking for?” the old man asked. Lazari opened her mouth to answer just as she caught sight of a tall figure standing behind him. She ran over, and suddenly the world shifted around her.

She felt dizzy. The world was spinning so fast it took her several tries to open her eyes properly. She heard someone call her name, and turned her attention to the sound. It was Father Daniel, looking somewhat motion-sick. She heard a popping sound behind her, and turned to see a warm fireplace surrounded by several large, comfy chairs. She saw books everywhere despite how dimly lit the large room was, and despite never having been here before and not even knowing how or why she was here now Lazari didn’t feel alarmed or unsafe.

“Where are we?” Father Daniel asked as he shakily got to his feet.

“I don’t know.” Lazari answered.

“This place has many names,” a deep voice rang out in the room, “though the one you’re most familiar with is probably ‘purgatory’.” The voice sounded like it was everywhere, but they found the source when they saw movement over by the fire. Father Daniel gripped the cross around his neck and began to mumble prayers with his eyes open wide and focused on the large demon before them. Standing at full height, the beast was at least three or four times his size, with pitch black skin and mouths all over its body that seemed to glow red from within. It laughed at him.

“Your prayers have no power over me, nor would they affect anything else in this place,” Zalgo grinned, “Thankfully, you don’t need them tonight anyway.” Father Daniel stared at the creature, shocked into silence now. He hadn’t expected to ever come face-to-face with the Devil himself…and in purgatory, no less…

“What do you want?” The priest’s request came out quiet and meek, but that was still much more confident than he felt.

“With you,” Zalgo started, “Nothing. I don’t know why you were brought here, honestly. I needed to speak with her.” He gestured to Lazari, who until that point had seemed to be frozen. Not with fear, but with curiosity. Zalgo’s taunting grin softened as he looked to the little one.

“Welcome. I’ve been waiting so long to finally meet you, my daughter.” Lazari tilted her head as she looked him over. Daughter? She hadn’t been called that by anyone for a while. She vaguely recalled meeting Zalgo in a dream once, but the fact that he was her father hadn’t really set in all the way…until now. She didn’t answer him and must have stood there in her thoughts for longer than it felt to her, because his smile started to wane.

“Does my appearance frighten you, little one? You’ve spent most of your life around humans, so I suppose that isn’t odd.” Zalgo stepped forward, and as he did so his body seemed to melt away into the shadows until all that was left was a man. Zalgo’s human-ish form was still unnaturally tall, but only by a foot or so. He looked normal enough, save for the red eyes and black horns in his head. He stepped closer to Lazari, and Father Daniel got in the way as if meaning to protect her.

Something dark swirled in the demon’s eyes as he addressed the priest.

“You think stepping between a mother bear and her cub is dangerous, but I assure you the risks involved with that are nothing compared to what you’re doing right now. Stand aside – I only get to see her tonight, and I will not have you wasting the little time we have.” Zalgo’s threat obviously terrified the man, but he refused to move. Before anything could happen as a result, Lazari stepped around her long-time friend and approached her father.

“Why now?” She asked. He didn’t seem to comprehend the question, so she elaborated, “Why not sooner? Do you know what she did to me? Do you know what’s happened to me because I’m not human? Why did you let it happen? Why didn’t you come get me?” The questions left Lazari’s lips in a desperate hurry, and it almost seemed that she wasn’t registering what she was asking. Zalgo sighed and reached for her, taking her in his arms and holding her to his chest. She didn’t fight him.

“I can’t go to the living world, that’s why we’re meeting here. I know what she did, and I had no way to stop it because I couldn’t reach you. I do know what happened to you in the living world; I couldn’t come to you, but I could keep an eye on you. If I could have prevented it, I would have – I didn’t allow it to happen intentionally. I didn’t come get you because I couldn’t go where you were, but I’ve been trying for years to contact you in ways I’m capable of…it just never worked.” He answered each of her questions quickly as he cradled her small body to himself.

“Even if I could have reached you, the only way we could have stayed together is if you were to die and enter my domain on the other side. I would never intentionally abandon you, my little one…I didn’t have another option to work with. I’m sorry.” His voice was soothing, comforting, remorseful. Things Father Daniel would have never expected from a demonic entity, least of all the King of Hell himself.

Lazari sniffled quietly, but offered no response. There were memories now, dark memories of her childhood with her hateful mother worming their way up from the back of her mind. She didn’t want to remember. She had no choice. Zalgo continued to hold her and say reassuring things, but she didn’t really hear what was being said.

“Look at me, Lazari,” he mumbled as he tilted her head up. Their eyes met, and with that, Zalgo was finally able to establish a mental connection with his child. He pressed his forehead to hers affectionately as he did what he could to dissipate the hurtful thoughts and feelings in her head. “I’m here now, little one. I’m here.”

She relaxed and wiped her eyes, feeling better but still not quite herself. Zalgo moved back to his chair and sat down again with Lazari in his lap. He motioned for Father Daniel to sit in the one across from them, but didn’t intend to force it if the man preferred to keep his distance. It made no difference to Zalgo what the priest did; he just wanted to spend time with his child for as long as he could.

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

 In another part of the world, a certain blue-masked man stalked around through backyards, climbing over fences in search of something to do…or, more specifically, someone to eat. He was hungry, had been so busy lately he hadn’t managed to keep proper track of his food stores, and now was out of preserved organs when he needed them most. At least the current holiday allowed him to wander without catching too much attention. He still had to remain mostly out of sight, but if someone caught a glimpse of him it wouldn’t be too much of a problem.

Jack climbed up to the top of the next fence in his path and perched on top of the thin wooden slats. There were people in the next yard, but thankfully a nicely placed tree kept him out of their view. They seemed to be having a little party, but strangely there wasn’t any music. Jack felt his stomach twisting with hunger and decided to move on and get what he needed; though he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off here.

Most of the fence was in shadow, and the majority of the people weren’t facing his direction anyway. Jack figured he just had to move slowly and carefully to the other side. He started on his way, keeping his attention toward the people. He reached his hand out to take another step and ended up nearly losing his balance when his hand grasped air at a gap in the fence instead of another piece of wood. He managed to stabilize himself until he heard a shout.

“What the fuck is that?!” Jack tensed and risked a glance at the people. They were facing the opposite direction. Jack looked where they were looking and spotted a familiar face…er, muzzle. Smile Dog was in his larger form, tiptoeing across the fence tops the same way Jack was. The canine seemed to notice the attention on himself and stopped to look at his audience with his terrifying fanged grin. The hellhound’s tail wagged a little and he jumped down into the yard and began to approach the group. The people didn’t take that well, of course; they backed away, yelled, looked for weapons.

Smile stopped going toward them and whined, tilting his head to the side. He hadn’t done anything wrong here, had he? Jack watched the scene through his altered senses. He didn’t like this. Smile barked and wagged his tail again as if trying to convince them he was friendly…but why? Jack knew Smile wasn’t one to approach humans like that, and certainly not in that form; he really only liked Jeff.

The guys in yard kept watch on the dangerous-looking creature in their midst, and Jack noticed too late that they had gradually moved to surround the canine. The two in front worked to distract Smile, the two on the sides closed in; Smile backed up into the last three who threw a thick chain around his neck and he let out a strangled bark as they tightened it. It was like they’d done this before.

They yelled to each other while they tugged at the chain to make Smile go where they wanted. The red Malamute struggled against them, whining and pulling against the bonds. Jack growled, preparing to step in as he saw them bring a cage out to the yard. The cage was large, but certainly not large enough to accommodate what they’d captured.

Jack dropped silently into the yard, unnoticed thanks to the fight Smile was putting up. They opened the cage door as he got closer, and Smile stopped struggling and sat on the grass. They tried to tug him into the cage, but he didn’t budge at all. Jack stopped as Smile started to laugh.

It was an eerie, bone-chilling sound that didn’t belong in a dog’s vocal cords, and the sound seemed to help the humans realize just how badly they’d fucked up here. Smile’s grin seemed to grow wider as he stood and shook himself. He stretched, then suddenly bolted off at full speed toward the other side of the yard, dragging the guys holding onto the chain hard against the rocks before making a sharp turn that slammed them into the wooden fence.

They let go of the chain as they collided with the hard surface, except one who yelled about being determined to make Smile his ‘champion fighter’. Oh, so that was it. Jack understood now; these guys were illegal dog fighters and had become Smile’s targets. That made a lot more sense. He figured there was no need to step in here, but he decided to stick around and enjoy the show in hopes that he could use some of the remains for his supper that night.

The demonic medic watched them try to run, watched Smile toy with them until he was finally ready to go in for the kill. In the end, only one remained. Smile pinned him on his stomach and held his head down with a single massive paw. He moved his head down to his target’s, and bit off half his ear with a disturbing tearing sound…then did the same with the other ear. The man, to his credit, didn’t cry…but he did yell at a decent enough volume.

“What’s wrong? You want to look tougher, don’t you?” Smile taunted him. The large canine speaking clear English in that creepy voice was the straw that broke the camel’s back, it seemed; he started to struggle harder and beg for his life to be spared. Smile bit into the back of his throat firmly, but not enough so to break skin. He lifted his target that way and carried him off toward the house.

Jack followed them around the side to a storm cellar. Smile broke open the door with ease and carried him down. The man was set on the floor in the middle of the cellar which had at least ten cages in it, each containing a depressed-looking, scarred dog.

“Let them out,” Smile ordered. The man started looking furiously around the basement, possibly for a weapon. Smile growled low in his throat, but the man still wouldn’t do it. Jack stepped into the cellar.

 “Can I help?” he asked the hellhound. Of course, Smile wasn’t surprised at all – he’d known Jack was there since the beginning. He asked Jack to unlock the cages. Jack went to each one, pulling off locks and opening doors. He reminded Smile of Jeff on a raid as he went along. Soon all the dogs were out, and Smile led them in a frenzied attack against their former tormentor.

While the man was torn apart by dogs, Jack headed back up to the backyard with Smile’s permission to eat from the other corpses.

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

  “He just shouted ‘yeet’ and kicked me out,” Jeff was telling Liu, “Not even a push, he legit kicked my back.”

“Seriously? No warning or anything?” The elder Woods brother asked. Jeff shook his head.

“I’m lucky I didn’t pass out on the way down – I know I wouldn’t die from that kind of fall, but I’d still rather drift down on a parachute.” Liu chuckled a little. Jeff had apparently gone skydiving for the first time with BEN the day before, and Liu couldn’t say he was surprised at the poltergeist’s methods of coaxing his brother out of the plane considering all he knew about BEN.

Jeff took another drink of soda and popped a piece of dark chocolate into his mouth while he kept his gaze focused out on the hills. He and Liu had decided to meet at a condemned old farmhouse this year. It fit the spooky vibe of the holiday, they were unlikely to be disturbed given the dangerous reputation of the building’s construction, and they had a decent view. Well, Liu did anyway. Jeff’s vision certainly hadn’t improved over the years.

“Was it fun, though?” Liu asked.

“Kinda. It was a decent experience, but not as fun as I’d hoped. It might be more enjoyable for people who can actually see the world below them while they fall.” Jeff responded before taking another swig of his drink. He wasn’t usually a soda guy, but tonight was a special occasion. They fell into silence again for a moment.

“Do you ever get the feeling that something important is about to happen?” Liu asked randomly to break the silence.

“I guess,” Jeff shrugged. “I don’t really believe in superstitions.”

“I feel like something special will happen tonight. I don’t know what, but it’s going to be a major thing that makes a big change.” Liu said.

“I guess we’ll see if you’re right soon. If it’s a big change, we’re all gonna know about it by the day after tomorrow at the latest.”

“Yeah.” Liu agreed. The Brothers Woods sat in comfortable silence for a while longer, just enjoying each other’s company while they were able. As soon as dawn came, Sully would consider the annual treaty over and go back to trying to kill Jeff.

For now, they could pretend that they didn’t need to worry about that. For now, they were brothers again…at least until sunrise.

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

 He jogged through the Dark Wood at a decent pace – not too slow, not too fast. He didn’t want them to catch up to him just yet, but he didn’t want to lose them, either. He was surprised they had come after him so willingly despite the circumstances…most would be terrified to follow an unidentified masked man to an unfamiliar place secluded in the woods, especially on Halloween night. Especially considering the way he’d caught their attention in the first place.

He was almost there. He checked back to be sure they were still following, and thankfully they were. He lead them out of the Dark Wood, into a regular forest in the human world. He doubted they saw the changes in the trees at all as they went forward. His destination was in sight; he burst into the clearing and stopped by the shovel he had stabbed into the ground roughly a half-hour earlier when he was done digging.

His pursuers were there mere seconds later. They stopped toward the edge of the clearing, panting heavily from the sudden physical exertion they clearly weren’t used to like he was. There were three of them: two men, one with dark brown hair and brown eyes and the other with slightly longer, messier, and lighter hair; and a woman with long brown hair similar in color to the second man, and bright green eyes. All looked to be somewhere in their mid to late forties.

Masky watched them take stock of their surroundings; the woman and the first man looked confused and worried, but Masky saw a quick flair of recognition in the second man’s eyes. He remembered this place, and he remembered what he did here. His two companions were unaware of why they had been lead here, but he knew. That sick bastard knew his secret was going to be exposed and the proxy could see the gears turning in his head as he tried to think of a way to save his own hide.

Without a word, Masky lifted his hand out in front of him, a glint of metal hanging from his fingers catching the light of the full moon above them. He held it above the open pit next to him that he’d spent so long digging and organizing earlier. The woman covered her mouth with one hand in attempt to hold back tears as she broke away from those she’d come with and approached the wide hole.

She got to the edge of it despite the others trying to hold her back while she kept a wary eye on the proxy. He didn’t move, and she took a deep breath as she looked down into the hole. She collapsed to her knees as her eyes focused on what was there.

The pale bones were old and stained a tan-ish yellow by the dirt they’d been buried under for so long, arranged neatly in the shape of a skeleton on top of a grey tarp. They were clearly that of a young child, though no indications of the child’s exact identity were present…they didn’t need to be.

Mrs. Williams wept as she recognized the remains of her daughter who had been missing from her life for so long. Masky remained silent as the woman grieved, but offered her the piece of jewelry he had. The small necklace was dirty, having been buried with the bones so long, but the chain had held. She unwrapped it from its loose grip on the proxy’s fingers and held it to her chest. It was the final confirmation of what she already knew. It was Sally’s necklace, the one she always wore, the one that was around her neck the night she disappeared.

There were so many questions she wanted to ask this man, but she couldn’t get them out through her tears. She had always had a small, naïve hope that Sally would be found alive, and now that hope was gone. At the same time, there was a feeling of closure, an end to the morbid uncertainty. She felt so many emotions that she couldn’t quite sort out, and any attempts she made at speech came out in strangled, unintelligible sobs.

Her husband was by her side in an instant, holding her for comfort…but his eyes remained glued on the remains of his daughter. The proxy reached down into the hole and grabbed the edges of the tarp with hands that shook ever so slightly. He pulled the tarp around the bones and tied the top loosely like a bag before offering that to couple as well, and he finally spoke.

“She’s been here too long…she needs to go home.” He spoke quietly. Mrs. Williams wasted no time in taking the bag from him, holding it to her chest as she had the necklace, cradling what was left of her little one. The tears that rolled down her face fell onto the rough fabric and soaked through while Masky turned and ran full-speed at her brother…Sally’s killer.

He realized what was happening too late, and was tackled shortly after he turned to run. Masky tackled him to the ground, hard, and they both went rolling into the bushes out of sight of the clearing. Mr. Williams saw it happen and was torn between wanting to help and needing to stay with his wife. There was a yell from the bushes, followed by a wet cracking sound, then another…then another.

Maybe it was having her death avenged. Maybe it was having her remains fully unearthed. Maybe it was the feeling of her mother’s tears against her bones. Whatever the reason, Sally couldn’t ignore the harsh tugs pulling her spirit back to the site where she’d been buried anymore. Her soul, still dressed as the Queen of Hearts, appeared next to the open pit.

They were older now, much older than she remembered from the last time she saw them, but Sally recognized her parents’ faces. They didn’t notice her at first, as she stood there silently with Charlie gripped tightly to her chest. She didn’t know what to do, what to say. She never thought this would happen.

“Please don’t cry, Mommy.” The quiet words were hypocritical considering the tears that had started to fall from her own eyes. Mrs. Williams almost fell into the pit trying to reach her. Sally moved to stand in front of them, and the couple embraced their child for the last time.

“It’s okay…Masky took great care of me.” Sally assured her brokenhearted parents as they held her tightly and cried, perhaps in some misguided attempt to keep her with them. Said proxy was watching from just outside the clearing with blood staining both his coat and the rock in his hand. He didn’t want to interrupt their reunion, though he felt warm rivulets of saltwater tracing lines down his cheeks beneath his mask.

“I…I have to go now…can you take me back to the park down the street that we always went to? The one with the green slide?” Sally asked hopefully with a hand on the folded tarp in her mother’s lap as she started to fade away. Her parents made their promises and struggled to hold on, but two humans can’t fight the natural order of things. Their daughter smiled at them as she disappeared into the ether, her final words taking on a faint, echo-like quality.

“I love you.” Then, she was gone. Her parents stayed for a while, her father silent and her mother quietly weeping. The mourning parents eventually got to their feet, Mrs. Williams keeping an iron grip on precious cargo in her arms. They passed Masky on their way out of the clearing, and Mr. Williams gave him a small, knowing nod of thanks that the proxy returned. They didn’t ask about Sally’s killer. Nobody explained it to them, but somehow through the context of the events that had just occurred, they knew what had happened.

Once they were gone out of sight and earshot, Masky turned back to the pit. He placed the bloodied stone in it and picked up the shovel. It didn’t take him long to fill in the hole, symbolically burying the past where it belonged.

“Thank you.” He turned to see Sally standing behind him, her face set in a melancholy expression. She hadn’t actually moved on, after all – she just knew it would be easier on her family if they thought she had. At least now she would get a proper funeral, and her soul would no longer be restricted to this little, isolated area in the woods. Masky dropped the shovel and approached her.

“Are you alright?” He asked quietly. She didn’t answer with words. Instead, she wrapped her arms around him and buried her face in his stomach. She mumbled something, but he couldn’t understand. He held the ghost child he’d come to see as his younger sister as the faintest light began to make its way into the sky. They stayed like that for a while, and when she finally pulled away, he invited her to come stay with him at the cabin, at least until she knew what she wanted to do and where she wanted to go from here.

Sally accepted, and they walked off toward the Dark Wood together as the sun began to rise on a new day, shining with her new-found freedom.

//Sally can finally wander, y’all! She’s free from her area restriction! Masky’s a hero, and that is a hill I am willing to die on!//

[wee-chlo]

Sitcom AU where after Five disappears, Reginald has an epiphany and commits to being Less of a Dick. It’s rocky going, because Reginald is still a stiff, socially inept curmudgeon who is terrible with children but his efforts include:

Awkwardly attempting to use the names Grace gave them. Eventually becomes so obviously painful that they all just give him an out and decide the number system is just a bunch of nicknames.

Giving Grace a room and more autonomy while also maintaining her upkeep so that she’s sharp as a tack well into their late twenties. Wins points with everyone with this but especially Diego.

The uniforms are worn during ‘school hours’; otherwise the children can wear what they like. Grace is given leave to take the children out for day trips and the first one is to go out and get them whatever clothing they want. Allison, Klaus and Vanya ask if they can get makeup. “Ask your mother.” “Of course!”

Sadistic abusive testing is completely done away with but the children are still trained in combat techniques, teamwork, strategy and tactics, etc. for the future. The creepy posters are taken down though. 

Giving Grace and Pogo leave to celebrate things like holidays and birthdays (hitherto dismissed as pointless waffle). Reginald rarely attends these festivities, but at least one of the children will usually have something for him. As the years pass, more of these gifts are actively used, worn, or put in places where they can be seen.

Coming clean about Vanya’s powers. Vanya goes no/low contact for years but she’s told about her powers in a way that doesn’t trigger every trauma she’s ever had. He makes sure she’s aware that she can keep the violin. She does.

After Klaus’ first (and successful) stint in rehab, he very reluctantly agrees to family therapy despite constantly insisting that he is not their father, he is their guardian, there’s a difference, they are his wards and charges, not his children. Results are mixed but predominately positive. The therapist is very straightforward about the consequences of his actions.

As a result:

Luther and Diego still snipe at each other but it’s more friendly and brotherly. Both of them are better adjusted emotionally and engage in vigilante crime-fighting antics together. They bicker about who’s the sidekick. Luther lives in the mansion, Diego has his own apartment and receives a stipend from Reginald for expenses. 

Luther is more mature, not mutated, and has a much more relaxed relationship with Reginald and his family in general. For awhile he didn’t really have much aside from training and crimefighting so the others encouraged him to get a hobby. Grace taught him how to cook and bake. He also adopted a puppy he named Orion. He has no authority over his dog. He initially intended to train Orion has a sort of sidekick attack dog to fight crime alongside him but then Orion curled up next to him on the bed that first night and he realized that if anything happened to Orion, he would kill everyone in the tri-state area and then himself. Orion stays home and keeps Pogo company.

Diego’s relationship with Eudora is still somewhat tumultuous but his emotional stability means it’s still pretty positive, with Luther and Diego having a much less abrasive relationship with the local police. Diego and Eudora still go on dates sometimes but not consistently. He doesn’t go on dates with anyone else though.

Allison is still a starlet but her relationships with her husband and child are much healthier and she uses her Rumor power much less. She used it pretty liberally early on but conversations with her family made her realize it wasn’t appropriate. She lives across the country but keeps in close contact with everyone and visits for holidays. She doesn’t receive a stipend, but did early on in her career. She and Luther have long since decided that they’re better as friends, and she encourages him to find someone because he really does need that kind of support and intimacy.

Klaus succeeded in kicking hard drugs and while he’s still a shameless pothead and disaster gay, he’s also much more stable. He’s an actor at the theater with plenty of friends and is a staple designated driver and mom friend of local gay bars and raves. He lives in the manor, where he and Luther have become very weird friends as Klaus tries to get Luther out of his shell. Klaus was most recently in a production of Les Mis as Grantaire. Everyone, including Grace, Pogo, and (reluctantly) Reginald, attended. Reginald declared it “surprisingly adequate”. It was the nicest thing he’d ever said to Klaus. 

Klaus got a Siamese kitten on a lark after Luther adopted Orion. Her name is Schatz and she is an absolute terror but always comes when Klaus calls her and will frequently ride on his shoulder like the cutest parrot in the world. 

Ben is alive and is going to college to be a nurse. He still lives at the mansion but actually does pay rent (not a lot, but still) and works as a bicycle courier on the side. He and Klaus are besties; Klaus drags him to every gay bar in the city and he has lots of admirers. Klaus also hooks him up with the therapist he started seeing after rehab. For therapy. Not for romantic liaisons.

Vanya’s therapy actually works because she knows why she needs it. She goes off her power-inhibiting meds, starts taking meds that will actually help her, and retreats to a quiet, isolated place to focus on learning how to control her powers without hurting people. She went no/low contact with the others both because of her hurt and anger and because she didn’t want to hurt them while she experimented. She doesn’t write a tell-all book, and Reginald quietly sends her a stipend to live on while she trains herself.

The Story

Instead of Five dropping in right before Hargreeves’ memorial service, he drops in right before the family’s “Welcome Back, Vanya, We’re Still Super Sorry and Love You Very Much” party as Vanya finally feels comfortable enough to return to the mansion. 

Everyone is still outrageously distracted from Five’s Very Important Mission accept for Hargreeves, who immediately pulls out the uniforms he’s had prepared for them for just this instance. Five’s is too big. Five puts on the school boy uniform and is very weirded out when Reginald apologizes because he assumed Five wouldn’t be a literal child when he returned but he really should have been better prepared.

“Dad, you told the therapist you got rid of those.” “I lied.” “.... alright, asked and answered.”

Instead of being distracted by things like trauma, dysfunction, drug abuse, etc., everyone’s distracted by mundane, goofy nonsense. Luther is set up on a blind date by Klaus with the girl who played Eponine, and is reluctant to leave when Five tries to drag him out of the restaurant. Allison’s husband has the flu so she can’t leave, she doesn’t know anyone here and who would take are of Claire? “... HOW ABOUT MOM, ALLISON?” 

Klaus helps for awhile but is immediately distracted by a very cute soldier in line to discuss a prosthetic leg who introduces himself as David Katz. Five admits through gritted teeth that yes, he has a great smile, but you know what he’ll have in a week if we don’t get this done? A really bad case of death.

Vanya’s better but then she meets Dave’s sister, Esther, and becomes as distracted as Klaus and Five wonders if it’s not too late to just let the apocalypse happen.

Only Reginald is helpful but even his assistance is limited because he basically hasn’t left his manor in actual years and looks like he’s straight out of a Dickens novel. Grace is only moderately more believable. Pogo is a monkey.

On the plus side, the group is much better at working together because despite deciding that brutal psychological abuse wasn’t the best way to go about things, Reginald still made sure they were prepared and well-trained. Hazel and Cha-Cha are still terrifying but Klaus isn’t kidnapped and they’re sent scurrying away after the attack on the academy.

Eventually, Five learns that Hazel and Cha-Cha weren’t sent to ensure the apocalypse but to attempt to instigate it because it’s basically been stopped in it’s tracks by the Hargreeves family being Weird-But-Chill instead of Insane-and-Dysfunctional. However, between Hazel becoming both infatuated with Agnes and increasingly disinterested in causing the destruction of the world as we know it, Cha-Cha not really getting any backup, and the Umbrella Academy’s impressive (if frequently distracted) competence, it just becomes a big circus of black comedy, slapstick, and slice of life nonsense with Five and Reginald trying and failing to get the others to keep their eye on the birdie for longer than six minutes at a time but everyone’s too distracted by things like cute girls and anatomy tests and families and being really gay.

[reallylonglies]

Glitter

The bassline throbbed through the ceiling, occasionally dislodging fragments of plaster that rested in Macey’s hair.

By the undulating light shed from bare light bulbs Macey navigated the labyrinth. The smell of sweat permeated the walls. She counted the brass numbers on the doors, 5, 6, 7, and then 8, the room she had been sent to. 

She knocked, and listened for the low voice that bade her enter. She pushed the door open gently and walked headfirst into a wall of thick floral fragrance. There was barely any light, apart from the dim red glow of a single tealight in its holder. 

A voice in the darkness told her to sit. 

“You’ve come a long way from the offices of Skin Deep, Macey Phillips,” it whispered, a warm, dark, crackling sound.

Macey shifted awkwardly in her chair. This investigative stuff was all very new to her.  At the start of the week when she had been asked to review a series of body creams for the Ibiza special, she hadn’t pictured it leading her down such a dark path. 

“You want to know what happened to me,” the voice said. In the darkness, Macey nodded. The candlelight flickered, reflected briefly in the eyes of the speaker. Macey’s eyes were adjusting to the dim light. She could make out a shapeless form sitting before her, shrouded in layers of cloth despite the warmth of the room. Macey heard a long, drawn-out sigh.

“First, Macey, I want you to know that I’m not the only one. Cases as advanced as mine are rare, but not so rare that I am alone in my affliction. In the mid nineties there were enough of us to form a community of sorts, but most of them are gone.

I used to be an acrobat. Quite famous, in the right circles. I could do things in mid-air that Olympic gymnasts only dream of, but I couldn’t handle the restraints of professional sport. The circus had glamour, mystique, prestige: things vaulting on a bar in front of three fat judges could never give me. 

For years I spent my nights as a flickering star, carried through space by the gasps from the crowds below. I glowed with pride, with promise, and the potential to achieve so much. By the time I knew something was wrong, I was already in far too deep.

They called me Celestia. You might want to Google it, there will be grainy photographs and a badly written article that was printed in the back of the New York Times. The act was quite unlike the circus acts you might imagine. Much more high concept: I was a beam of light, thrown between the arms of strong men, the planets. Each costume represented a planet. Jupiter had golden rings around his waist and arms, Earth was painted in gorgeous swirls of blue and green. And me, I’m sure you can imagine…”

She paused. Macey hadn’t taken any notes, allowing a small dictaphone to do the work for her. The picture the woman painted, the bright lights of the circus, the delicate yet impressively strong woman floating around the big top - they all seemed so distant. Macey had never been to a circus. She’d assumed they didn’t exist any more, particularly the ones with acrobats and clowns and elephants. 

“It was a long time ago,” the woman continued, sensing her skepticism. “I lived to perform, I ate to keep my body healthy, I slept through the days to be alert for my act at night. The circus was my life and my family, it was the air I breathed. I was rarely out of my costume apart from when I was sleeping. Beautiful costumes; nothing to them but lace and sparkles. Crawling into my nightgown felt like taking a step back into the real world. I used to hang my favourite pieces at the end of my bed, and fall asleep knowing that the magic was never far away.

Spending so much time performing, dressed up and painted to look like a celestial body, I found the restraints of the human world a little frustrating. When I found it hard to get rid of the thick makeup on my skin, I didn’t mind. It was a reminder, like the costume at the end of my bed, that I was forever linked to that magical world. When I had days off and I had to run errands people looked at me strangely, but only because they had never seen a woman in jeans and heavy body paint before.

They all warned me it was bad for my skin to leave it on so long. I promised my closest friend, Lynn, who did my makeup, that when Christmas came I would scrub my skin so clean she wouldn’t recognise me. The thought of my being so clean and fresh pacified her, a blank canvas for her to decorate with beautiful creations.

Winter rolled round and the circus ceased touring for a week so we could visit our families for the festive season. My mother nearly exploded when she saw me in my drab street clothes, white body paint still clinging to the backs of my ears and patches of my neck. I was thrown into a bath and told in no uncertain terms that my grandmother could not see me looking like a street urchin.” 

She took a breath. Macey looked up. 

“Do you take a lot of baths, Macey?” 

“Some, I used to write a column called Bath Salts and Bubbly but it was more of a wine thing, except I don’t really like wine though so…” she trailed off.

“I remember the sensation of the water. Getting in was a process of daring myself to get one inch deeper, watching the patterns dissolve from my skin. Lying there in the water, suddenly I felt all the impact of the circus at once, months of non-stop performances and living nocturnally, stretching, flying and throwing myself across the arena, all caught up in knots in my body. I looked at my hands, which had turned pink in the too warm water. There was something odd about them, something that I couldn’t quite place. I tried to concentrate on something else, cleaning my hair with vigour and scrubbing ruthlessly at any patch of body paint that remained on my skin. When I felt as clean as a fresh white sheet, I pulled myself out of the water and towelled myself dry. And that’s when I saw it, all over me. Not on my skin, but in it: the glitter. I laughed at first, thinking it was the circus getting into my blood, I was even quietly proud that it could never be truly removed. But after a few days passed and several baths couldn’t shift it I started to panic. My mother didn’t question my high necked, long sleeved sweaters. If anything she was pleased that my personal style was such a direct contrast to my skimpy circus gear. 

When I finally escaped the stifling embrace of the family home and returned to the circus, I sought out the make-up artist. I told her about my skin, about the seemingly increasing number of tiny silver diamonds that encrusted my body. I told her as if it were a joke, hoping that I could laugh it off and she would have some simple explanation. She simply stared at me, asked me how often I’d been showering, had I been exfoliating. It all just seemed like nonsense, the kind of thing you read in beauty magazines...”

Macey cleared her throat guiltily. 

“Then she said the strangest thing, she said “I knew it was wrong to do that to a living thing.”

I thought she was talking to me of course. I presumed she meant I was overworked and my skin was having some kind of reaction. Like hives, but pretty. What I found out, and what you must already know by now, is that this was something very different.”

Macey looked awkwardly at her gloved hands and nodded. The woman’s eyes squinted at her through the gloom. 

“Why are you here, Macey? It’s a lot of research for a single article, isn’t it?”

“I like to be thorough, I want to get a really interesting angle on the piece,” she muttered, tugging at her cuffs. 

“I don’t think that’s true is it?” the woman said, sounding gentle for the first time since Macey had arrived, “You’re an intern, aren’t you? That’s what you said on the phone. Nasty job, interning for a fashion magazine, they give you all the shitty little things to do, before they throw you a bone and let you write something. Getting coffee, cleaning, doing errands in ridiculous shoes. I bet they make you test the beauty products that they don’t want to go near with a barge pole.” 

Macey looked into her eyes, they were soft, sympathetic. 

“Show me your hands,” the woman said, tapping the table. 

Macey took off her gloves, and gingerly placed her hands on the cool surface. The skin on her fingers sparkled faintly in the light. 

“You’re not too far gone, there’s hope yet, you’ve been getting as much sunlight as you can? Drinking filtered water? Avoiding processed foods?” 

Macey nodded slowly, although these things were all part of her routine long before they needed to be, she was a fashion intern - hydrating and clean eating were her mantra. 

“You have to make the effort, Macey, don’t slip up. No matter how great it made you feel, don’t let that stuff near your skin again,” the woman’s tone was urgent. 

“You make it sound so ominous,” Macey said, “People get skin conditions all the time, a lot worse than this one.”

The woman sat silently for what seemed like hours, then with an abrupt movement she turned on a the bright lights that bordered the dressing room mirror. 

She was a statue of crystals. It was hard to look at her, she shone so brightly. Little beams of light bounced off of her body, if you could call it a body. The form of a human woman was there, but she seemed impermanent, as if at any moment she might tumble into a pile of silver dust. 

“You think this is subtle, Macey? How many years do you think it has been since I have been able to go out in the sunlight without being afraid that a gust of wind is going to split my body into a thousand pieces?”

Macey shrank away from her as she spoke, clouds of tiny diamonds escaped from her mouth, landing on the table with a clatter. 

“You know what happened the day I left the circus? I was flying through the air, living my dream. I reached out to catch the hand of my trapeze partner, and I fell. My hand disintegrated in his. I didn’t break any bones. When I landed I was a pile of dust. Have you ever had to literally pull yourself together Macey? Because I have.”

She held out her arm, which tapered out into a shimmering point rather than a hand. As she raised it, clouds of diamond dust shifted in the air. Macey’s eyes drifted over her surroundings. The room covered in stardust, windowless, the door surrounded by black tape and draught excluders. The skeletal figure, held together by desperation, hiding from the wind. 

“The applause when I fell was deafening, the audience thought it was a vanishing act. I was lucky to recover as well as I have. Here,” she thrust the tape recorder at Macey, “Take your interview, take your article and warn them. See how seriously they take you. Tell them that body glitter is taking over the world, see what they say to you then…” 

A cloud of glimmering dust followed Macey out of the darkened room.

Days later, her article went to print. 

Body Glitter is Taking Over the World  was the title. A run down of the eight best body glitters and where to find them.

As she emailed the article to her editor, she watched the light dance on her fingertips. 

[donnamiscolta]

This past year I read good books and experienced good things. Here are a few of each of them matched up in a semi-random, teeny bit calculated way, introduced by a few lines from the featured book.

From “1989” in How to Write an Autobiographical Novel, a deeply perceptive and intelligent collection of essays by Alexander Chee:

Everyone is running now and everywhere batons rise. The screams lift out of the street, and in restaurants up and down the block doors are locked and the diners are informed.

In “1989,” Chee writes about the AIDS march in San Francisco and the response of the riot police to the disruption of traffic. It’s a short, powerful essay about his realization that the police were directing their brutality not just at the people who were protesting, but at what they were fighting for – all of this happening in the country he lived in.

I read this essay months before I went to Ecuador, landing during street protests in Quito where students, workers, and indigenous activists were tear-gassed by police and military units. This was not my country, but I sided with the people and their demands for social and economic justice.

  From The Friend by Sigrid Nunez, which won the 2018 National Nook Award for Fiction:

Rather than write about what you know, you told us, write about what you see. Assume that you know very little and that you’ll never know much until you learn how to see. Keep a notebook to record things that you see, for example when you’re out in the street.

I read this beautiful book on our flight to Spain in May. A woman grieving the death of her lifelong best friend recalls the above advice from him. I’ve never been good about keeping a journal or recording thoughts and observations in a notebook. But during the three weeks we were in Spain, at the end of each day I logged our activities, typing them into my phone, including this incident in Segovia: We arrived at the tiny Casa-Museo Antonio Machado to find it closed during the siesta hours. On the step outside sat two middle-aged men, one of them reciting poetry in beautiful, lilting tones, and the other listening, nodding. I missed out on seeing the museum, but I was grateful to have witnessed that.

  From “As Luck Would Have It” in Staten Island Stories by Claire Jimenez, an engaging collection I reviewed for Seattle Review of Books:

One day Chrissy had the bright idea to reach out to the ghosts. She thought that perhaps we could make peace with them if only we could all just sit down and talk.

I believe in ghosts and I fear seeing strange ones, that is, the ghosts of people I haven’t known. But I welcome the ghosts of beloveds. If not their ghosts, then their living, breathing doubles. One hot Sunday afternoon in February, while I was walking down a nearly empty street in Oaxaca, an elderly woman was walking toward me. There was something familiar about her dress, her shoes, her pace. I prepared to greet her as we neared each other. I can’t remember if I managed to extend a “buenos dias” to her. I don’t even remember if she looked my way or if she was focused on the gently upward slope of the sidewalk ahead of her. But as soon as she passed me, I stopped immediately and whirled around to watch her walk away, resisting the urge to rudely catch up to her for another look at her face, which eerily resembled my long-dead Mexican grandmother.

  From The Vexations by Caitlin Horrocks, a smart and enthralling fictional account of the life of composer Eric Satie:

“You a writer?” a man asked, glancing at Philippe’s notebook. The man was wearing a jacket, not a smock, and his collar was gray and crooked. He made a strange tinkling sound as he leaned over the bar, as if he were strung with wind chimes. His nose was a nearly bloody-looking red, and his eyes were already glazed.

Still, Philippe thought this was possibly the best single thing anyone had said to him in his life. “Yes,” he said. “Yes, I’m a writer. What are you?

“A drunk,” the barman said, refusing to serve the man the absinthe he’d requested.

This novel, rich in character and setting, includes among its themes art and genius versus art and talent and the ever-constant doubt that accompanies both. The passage above features Phillippe, who comes to Paris from Spain and encounters obstacles in trying to make his name as a poet. Imposter syndrome is real for writers. Even when we feel confident that the work we’ve finished is good and deserving of publication, once we send it out into the world seeking a publisher, we are beset with doubt that anyone will find it worthy. So, it was with gladness and relief that I learned in late May that Jaded Ibis Press will release my third book of fiction Living Color: Angie Rubio Stories in fall 2020.

  From Hezada! I Miss You by Erin Pringle (forthcoming March 2020), a beautiful novel about the change, loss, nostalgia, and memory that accompanies a dying circus and the dying village it visits:

The tumblers run up the street and jump high into the splits. When they land, they raise their arms to applause, then take off again, running, jumping, now twisting too many times to count before they land facing the other side of the street. More applause. They rise up on their toes, arch their backs, and reach as though to touch the sky, defiant at the rain.

Who doesn’t love performers? They are deserving of our applause. Especially improv actors. Last April the multi-faceted Jekeva Phillips invited me to participate in BIbliophilia. My part was easy: I read an excerpt from one of my Angie Rubio stories. Then, in one of the most creative acts I’d ever witnessed, a group of improv actors took over where I left off. After a brief huddle, the actors took the stage and continued my story in spontaneous and incredibly funny, smart, and seamless dialogue and action. Like an ice sculpture that melts or a sand painting that is erased, that performance was a one-time thing – unscripted, unrecorded, never to exist again. I suppose that’s the point of improv – its ephemeral nature, its beauty and power. But how I wish I could’ve wrapped that performance up and taken it home with me to watch again and again.

  From The Body Papers by Grace Talusan, an exquisitely crafted memoir about trauma, identity, and family:

Inside a few cells in my brain, I believe there’s a part of me that still knows Tagalog. I feel pain when I attempt to speak it, as though there is something I want to say desperately that can be expressed only in my first language. But I can’t access words, or that part of me that named the world first in Tagalog. When I hear strangers speaking Filipino languages, I am as drawn to them as kin.

I have a similar response to Spanish, though I have never spoken it fluently. It’s a language that I heard throughout my childhood and one that I feel connected to despite my failure to exit from intermediate purgatory in my speaking level. At least my desire for connection through the English language is met through community with other writers through readings, conferences, and retreats. Among the opportunities I had this year was participating on panels at the Orcas Island Literary Festival and teaching at the Hedgebrook Summer Salon. Both times I had the pleasure of hanging out with writers I admire who are also exceptional human beings.

  From The Importance of Being Wilde at Heart by R. Zamora Linmark (which I reviewed for Seattle Review of Books), a YA novel about first love, which centers the thoughts, desires, and concerns of gay, trans, and gender-fluid teens:

He closes his eyes. He lies there, very still, and with his shaven head, he looks like a newborn baby who wakes up to greet the world, then returns back to sleep.

These are the protagonist’s observations about the boy he falls in love with. Linmark’s reference to a newborn gives the moment innocence and intimacy because we understand the purity of that moment when a baby wakes up and the tenderness of falling back into slumber. I have a grandson now to remind me of the hope we feel when we behold this innocence. I saw him in the first hours after his birth, sleeping in all his newness. I saw him open his eyes to a world still small to him. Now every time he opens his eyes, his world increases and his awareness of himself in it increases. As he grows, he will always have the support of those who love him to be whoever he wants and needs to be in this world that is big and often beautiful, but not always welcoming.

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Some Things I Read and Did in 2019 – A Mash-up This past year I read good books and experienced good things. Here are a few of each of them matched up in a semi-random, teeny bit calculated way, introduced by a few lines from the featured book.

[sportsmaniausa0]

Top 10 Party Cities in the World

First of all I need to start via announcing that these are my private alternatives. I did no longer do any research on the top cities to party in or something like that.

These are locations I've frolicked at and love. I count on its better like that anyway, all approximately the memories and sharing them with you. There's gonna be a few off the wall spots on here you probable by no means should count on. I used to party a TON even though so believe me in this. And granted there are plenty of others towns I've been to that might have made it in this listing. But I picked the pinnacle ten that popped into my head initially.

So these are my pinnacle 10 alternatives for the incredible cities to birthday party at.

10. Lima Peru - This warm South American is bustling with lifestyles. I first hit Peru decrease again in 07 I assume it was, I gotta say for the men Peruvian woman are fabulous, and for the women Peruvian dudes are proper searching cats, South Americans in famous are warm blooded and prefer their events. We would possibly in no way even head out till well after middle of the night after which wed birthday party all night and hit the DiscoTechues at like eight inside the morning.

I notably advise this for absolutely anyone looking for to have some fun distant places with a few great human beings. Head over to Mira Flores the fundamental visitor hub in Lima and check out Aura and Gotica Nightclubs. These  of the bigger and greater ultra-modern nightclubs inside the region.

09. Mobile Alabama - Most human beings do no longer recognise this, however this is the house of the true Mardi Gras, it began back in 1703 and is the oldest Carnival Celebration within the United States. There are lots of tanned our bodies on the Gulf coast constantly trying to have an outstanding time. Downtown Mobile has a ton of individual, and you get lots of younger par-ranges coming Pensacola Florida (Another Hot Spot).

And more from Gulf Shores Mississippi, this entire place is one huge birthday celebration simply. Head on right down to Mobile all through the primary week of October for BayFest Music Festival. Its biggest music pageant in Alabama, upwards of a hundred twenty 5 bands over a 3 day period. Good instances perfect meals, and correct people.

08. Santa Barbara California - This location has it all, a lovely downtown, and State Street is off the chain. Buy Designer garments by using manner of day and celebration through night time. I've spent an entire lot of time partying proper here, and granted its been a while. Things have now not modified.

If you are looking for extra of a house party and university party type scene head to I.V. Or Isla Vista for the more youthful crowd and streets full of par-tiers until the wee hours of the morning.

07. Hollywood California - Alright I couldn't depart this off, land of the beautiful human beings. Rock Stars, Celebrities, and famous people of every type. Hollywood is well-known for a cause. There are limitless golf equipment and bars, some thing you're looking for.

Head over to the Whiskey for some stay song, or take a look at out some burlesque dance on the Pussycat Doll Lounge. Or you prefer to get right away to clubbing test out Johnny Deps Viper Room. Whatever you're looking for Hollywood has all of it

06. Juneau Alaska - Believe it this location is out of control, I needed to throw this on right here to inspire human beings to visit Alaska. The capital town has an improbable celebration scene. Especially within the summer season, all through the height of summer time its not uncommon to have an additional 30,000 humans in town from the cruise ships.

And Alaskans in sizable like to celebration, the splendor of Juneau is that everything is with out a trouble positioned in approximately three or 4 square blocks. I understand this down sound like a whole lot, however there are extra than enough institutions on this area. And at the same time as done partying for the night time, head over to Pel Minis for some Russian dumplings.

05. San Francisco California - This is probably my favored city in the global. Broadway is out of control and Chinatown is simply loopy. Remember Big Trouble in Little China with antique Jack Burton? Well its not pretty much like it turned into, but its although wild. And SF is only a fun city to visit, the lifestyle, the track, and meals, the entirety about it.

And yes the golf equipment and nightlife. Being from California and haven't spent an fantastic quantity of time everywhere in the kingdom, my hat flow offs to SF for being so particular. Don't get me incorrect So Cal is exceptional too, but there is some thing approximately the complete Bay environment that hits domestic.

Maybe its because I have become born proper next to SF, however I cant think about absolutely everyone who may want to ever disagree approximately SF. Make sure while you're there you see Broadway at night time, and if you're a chunk seedier motion there may be usually the Tenderloin But I don't endorse that place for the faint of coronary coronary heart or sincerely all and sundry.

04. Portland Oregon - Gotta love this town, land of the unfastened spirits and flower kids. Portland is certainly a younger new wave metropolis. Very modern-day, and notably liberal, its have been given a high-quality nightlife and amazing food. On a facet have a look at, Portland is takes the reins for the most specific Dance Clubs internal a city limits inside the entire United States. Yes loads and plenty of Strippers, its a a laugh town despite the fact that than that.

You a Fan of Whiskey? Check out the Multnomah Whiskey Library. And after a big night time of partying have a few steak and eggs at the identical time as looking the adorable woman of the Acropolis Club in Southeast Portland. Well they'll be cute at 9 inside the morning after a night time of consuming.

03. Gothenburg Sweden - This is in which I clearly name domestic right now. And permit me let you know that in case you're in search of to birthday celebration with the severely stunning human beings, then Sweden is for you. Swedish humans are just lovable in trendy. And they realize a manner to have a laugh; they may be a bit extra reserved within the beginning. But after they open up, its exercise over.

Gothenburg is 2nd to Stockholm in period, and even as I have not been to Stockholm but to evaluate. Gothenburg will always maintain a place in my coronary heart. If you're seeking out a few true stay rock there may be generally Stick Fingers. And in case you're covered in tats like me, theres the rock bar this is right up your alley. On the opposite hand if you're looking for a greater membership scene kind component move except, you wont be upset.

02. Austin Texas - I modified into very amazed by means of the downtown area of Austin. Wow, this area had a exceptional nightlife, and hundreds and plenty of clubs and bars. Fridays and Saturdays they shut down all of Sixth Street and the location is complete of par-stages for blocks and blocks.

If you are trying to some girls dancing on the bars, take a look at out the world famous Coyote Ugly. This place is extraordinary amusing, proper drinks, and wild as ever. I certainly had been given hand cuffed there and took frame pics off of a bartender, it became quite humorous.

01. London England - OK, this is the peak of it desirous approximately quite an entire lot the entirety. London is like San Francisco jacked up on juice. No comedian tale, there are too many locations to name right here, however you gotta ensure and go to Piccadilly Circus. Whatever you're searching out London has it, I've never visible a greater culturally diverse town. There are humans from everywhere in this town, and at a few degree in the day there is lots to see.

I propose earlier than you go out partying test out the open market on the Camden Lock. This marketplace had the entirety and remarkable road food. I may additionally need to imagine what the open markets must have been like 2000 years in the past. It turned into kind of just like the troll marketplace from Hellboy 2, minus the trolls.

So These are the pinnacle 10 cities for partying in the international for my part.

I'm sure anyone has their very very own. And I cant say whatever about Asia or Australia as I even have not been there yet. Bali is subsequent on my listing; Ive grown into some exceptional interest nowadays. But I though love a superb birthday celebration.

OK so I cant omit my non-public preferred celebration town. Chico California, its my hometown. It may not be the most important within the world, but it packs a punch. And can cope with the top notch of them. Halloween and St. Patricks day are via some distance the wildest in Chico. Or if you're seeking to flat the river with about 15,000 college students, do not omit Labor and Memorial Day.

[fortey]

Traumatized by Horror

Maybe this will be fun for someone.  This is my draft of an article I wrote recently.  This is pre-editing, as I submitted it.  You can find the published version right here.  Just an interesting contrast between what I write and what gets published.  Sometimes you get edited a lot, sometimes you get edited a little.  But if you’re interested in the creative process at all and how publishing works sometimes, it’s a nice comparison.  

There’s probably all kinds of psychology behind why people enjoy watching horror movies that range from things like the adrenaline rush you get from being scared to the fact that the Leprechaun is clearly awesome.  That’s all fine and dandy like sour candy except for when horror goes a little beyond the usual thrill and maybe wonks your brain six ways from Sunday. Because those kind of shenanigans actually happen now and then - sometimes people get so traumatized by horror they have to get medical professionals involved.

127 Hours Grossed Out Audiences En Masse

Some might argue that 127 Hours isn’t a horror movie at all, but it does star James Franco and you can’t spell “James Franco is terrifying” without James Franco, so let’s not speak of it again.  In the movie 127 Hours, there’s an extremely disturbing scene in which Franco, realizing Seth Rogen is nowhere to be seen, has to take matters into his own hands and save himself by performing an impromptu field amputation of his own arm with a Swiss Army knife.  This scene was at least as disturbing as Franco’s entire performance in Why Him?

The cutting scene lasts for about 3 minutes but it’s a bloody, intense, Francoscream-filled endurance test for the audience and some audience members were not able to withstand it. In fact, there’s a remarkable list of audiences who suffered a number of side effects which in some cases may have been hammed up a little since they couldn’t be confirmed, but others were making the whole ordeal sound like 127 Hours was used to punish people Clockwork Orange style.

A reviewer who saw the film at the Toronto International Film Festival mentions 3 people passed out and one had a seizure during the movie and goes out of their way to express they didn’t think it was a PR stunt as some people suggested - the audience was genuinely grossed out by the scene and had maybe never seen movies before.  Weird one to pick for their first try.

History repeated itself when the director of Toy Story 3 had a private screening of the movie and two more people passed out.  Did Buzz and Woody steal their wallets and take compromising photos while they were out?  We can only assume.

The editor of Vanity Fair held a screening with Franco and the director on hand.  People reportedly wept during at that one and, yeah, another dude went face down, ass up over it.

Movieline actually put together an entire timeline of people losing their shit over the movie. Some are given the side-eye treatment, suggesting maybe a few of these were played up to hype the movie given all the other stories of people passing out, but enough of them were legit that it’s safe to assume if you want the family to leave the house quick after Thanksgiving this year while still being able to pretend you weren’t doing it on purpose, this is the movie you want to put on.

Freaks Was Accused of Causing a Miscarriage

Have you ever seen the movie Freaks from 1932? It’s one of the earliest most controversial horror films and is famous for this completely baffling scene;

To this day, I won’t agree to anything during a work meeting without chanting “I accept it! I accept it! Gooble gobble! Gooble gobble!”  That went over like gangbusters when I was asked to start wearing pants again.

Back in 1932, a movie about murderous circus people was pretty cutting edge and, if we’re being honest, it still is.  No one would make this movie today because those actors all were actual circus performers and modern audiences tend to frown on exploiting people by calling them freaks. To fully appreciate just how well this movie went over when it premiered though, you just need to dig into the lore around it.  While it seems to have ruined the career of the director, it had much more harrowing repercussions in the real world where one woman claimed to have had a miscarriage while watching a test screening. She threatened to sue the studio and their response was to recut the movie to make it less horrifying. Try to imagine that working today.

The newer version of the film had fewer murderous scenes and also got rid of a castration because that was a thing that someone thought was necessary to film in the first place.  Word is those scenes are lost for all time, so if you ever wanted to see a circus strongman get his dong cut off, you’re going to have to wait for that episode of Big Bang Theory like the rest of us.

The Exorcist Straight Up Ruined People

If you haven’t seen the Exorcist then your mother and I are extremely disappointed in you.  Please go watch it immediately. It came out in 1973 and it still holds up as an amazing and effective horror movie and the reason so many of us masturbate with crucifixes.  The story and the acting really produce an undeniable sense of dread and terror that forces you to make sure the blanket covers your feet at night because the monsters can’t touch your ankles if they’re covered, and that’s a rule. It also seriously fucked up a whole bunch of people.

Any time a movie causes someone’s heart to malfunction, and not in that “three sizes bigger” Grinch way, it’s pretty noteworthy. A New York Times article from January 1974 recounts people standing in massive lines to get into the theater to see the film, with scalpers selling tickets for upwards of $50 which is ironically what it costs to get a drink, popcorn and a movie ticket for IMAX today.  It also mentions the number of people who vomited while watching the movie, and some who walked out, or fainted.  And then, apparently, several people had heart attacks.

Is it possible the stories of heart attacks is just someone blowing pea soup up our asses? Maybe.  In the pre-internet world all kinds of shit happened without people idly filming it on their phones in the hopes the suffering of a stranger would make them go viral. But the influence of The Exorcist does go beyond the mass pukings and odd heart attack.

If you’ve never heard the term cinematic neurosis then welcome to your crash course.  It’s what a psychologist might call the phenomenon of a patient developing anxiety, dissociation and potentially psychotic symptoms because of a movie, requiring the intervention of a mental health professional to overcome.  There’s a study that mentions a case caused by Jaws, one by Invasion of the Body Snatchers and 5 separate incidents caused by The Exorcist because a pre-teen girl whose head spins is always slightly more disturbing than pod people and Richard Dreyfuss.

Patients affected by The Exorcist suffered insomnia, panic attacks, PTSD and more. One had dreams about the Devil with a dick in his mouth.  And sure, we all have dreams about the Devil or Elmer Fudd or whomever with a dick in their mouth sometimes, but this was to the point that the person needed psychotherapy to deal with it, so you can assume that was a hell of a devil dick.

Dracula and Eyes without a Face Caused Mass Faintings

To the best of my knowledge I have never fainted. Once I drank so much at a party in college that I woke up in the parking lot of a bagel deli next to an exceptionally large pool of drool, but I don’t think that’s the same thing. I can say for certain no horror movie has ever made me faint though, because of my robust constitution.  And maybe that’s a product of the times because back in the day, people were dropping like flies watching movies like Eyes Without a Face and Dracula.  

In 1928, Dracula starring Bela Lugosi was like if Hereditary and The Exorcist humped and had a baby with a remarkably distinct hairline. That shit scared the bejeezus out of people and in 1928, it was very hard to replace bejeezus. The San Francisco Chronicle talked about a nurse on hand with smelling salts to help handle an average of 14 faintings per night.  Now the movie-makers of 1928 weren’t above maybe hiring some people to engage in a little bullshittery to help hype a movie but there’s not any indication that these faintings were not legit either. In fact. Lugosi played Dracula on stage before playing the role on film, and 110 faintings were reported in the first week of the theater production.  His accent was that good.

In 1960, the French film Eyes Without a Face busted out a repeat performance of the Dracula phenomenon by making audience members buckle like belts thanks to one particular scene involving a face transplant which was a little much for 1960s sensibilities. It’s about 6 solid minutes of screentime featuring a doctor just cutting a face off and peeling it away like a goddamn banana.  You’d probably snicker at the effects today but back in 1960 people were all made of cotton candy and golly gosh so this probably hit people like a bag of grapefruits to the groin. Seven audience members fainted during the film’s showing at the Edinburgh Film Festival, and those were Scots, for God’s sake.  They eat haggis on purpose there.  

It’s worth noting that faintings not strictly limited to impressionable audiences of yesteryear, either.  Four audience members fainted during a showing of Lars Von Trier’s Antichrist in 2009, possible because they saw Willem Dafoe’s dong.  In 2016, EMS had to be called to a Toronto showing of Raw when a person fainted, because some people still aren’t down with cannibalism.

Ghostwatch Was the Worst Idea the BBC Ever Had

There’s a good chance you’ve never heard of Ghostwatch as it originally aired on the BBC in 1992 and 1992 British TV was the entertainment equivalent of a bag of scones to the jimmies. All you need to know about the show is that it aired at 9 PM, it featured recognizable TV personalities (if you’re British) and it was filmed like a typical live broadcast investigative TV show.  If you’ve ever watched Live PD, the format would be very familiar - in studio host talking to people out on the scene.  The on-scene hosts were at a particular home alleged to be haunted, investigating the claims and more or less mocking the idea.  Or so it seemed!  

The show was presented as a real documentary like so many current ghost hunting shows are, but this was well before that era.  This was new, and early enough in the evening that families were watching it with the kids.  And remember, it was 1992 in Britain so you probably could either watch this or some guy painting cricket balls on TV that night.

As the show progressed, the tenor went from goofy “this is a bullshit waste of time” to something more menacing.  Calls from viewers, which were actually fake but no one knew that at the time, began to incorporate elements from the “real” haunting that was being presented on the show. People professed to have had similar experiences with a ghost knocking on their pipes and shit started going down on camera until the studio went full apocalyptic ghostsplosion.  One of the hosts gets dragged off and presumably ghost murdered and the studio lights explode as the main host gets possessed on camera and threatens to rain holy hell down on the viewing audience before the how cuts out.  Sounds kind of cool, right?  Well, the 30,000 people who called the BBC within an hour didn’t think so.  And that was the least of their problems.

11 million people watched Ghostwatch and it fucked them up royally.  It went from silly  to disturbing very quickly, however, when an 18-year old boy with some learning difficulties who watched the broadcast committed suicide days later.  His parents said he had been obsessed with the broadcast and believed the same ghost haunted their house.  He left a note saying that if ghosts are real, then he’ll be with them “always as a ghost.”