#the man may have to sit the rest of his life but he certainly isnt sitting still

[foxpunk]

okay i love that you made a haurchefant lives au where he survives the unsurvivable unhealable attack. genuinely i love to see it, i love him and miss him and think the "if he lived it would ruin the timeline" thing is stupid as hell. (like, narratively i had made peace with his death, that part is as okay as it can be to me, but then they come up with this cop out "no fun allowed, he Has to die" bullshit come ON thats stupid AND defeats the true tragedy of his death shut UP.)

anyways, thats beside the point, my real question is why is he never disabled though (an obvious question with an obvious answer, but so many people do not even bother asking lmao). like. in these aus i see him either miraculously fully healed or with a bitchin scar. and that scar is oftentimes huge and RIGHT over his spine??? hello. why is he never disabled. why does that seem like a fate as bad as or worse than death to so many of you.

[hermesserpent-stuff]

for my mysterios apprentice au. right after uncle ben died.

mentions of death and funerals and mourning.

Quentin finds his heart aching. The Parker family had been so kind to him after he had started letting Peter into his lab. May and Ben had even had him over several times and had been kind enough to include him on holidays when they truly had no need to. He has a lovely pair of mittens from last Christmas that he wears when the weather cools. Peter had been his main connection to the happy family, but Ben and May had accepted him easily as another adult figure in Peter’s life.

Now…

Now Ben Parker is dead. A gunshot from a random robber who had fled the scene. Quentin silently stands beside Peter in the graveyard. The skys are bright and clear, almost a mockery of the sorrow that rests on the shoulders of all those standing around. Peter’s eyes are stained red, but there are no tears today. Instead, the teen looks to be attempting to stand strong for his aunt. Quentin feels so useless in the face of this grief. A soft wind blows as the final rights are read and the coffin is covered. 

During the repast at the Parker’s home, Peter vanishes. Quentin goes up to Peter’s room to find the teen frowning down at a notebook, tears falling onto a already dampened page. Quentin knocks on the doorframe and the teen scrubs his face and snaps the the notebook closed.

“Peter-”

Peter looks away. Right. So many well wishes and apologies. The kid must be sick of them. Quentin certainly knows he had grown sick of them each time he had a parent die. He takes a breath.

“Want to make like a tree and get out of here? I have a back to the future movie with your name on it and a piece of coding that has been fighting me for a week.”

He quotes the movie and is rewarded for his efforts with a glance from Peter. The teen hesitates and Quentin breathes.

“Your aunt has a few dozen people to look after her right now. You need to recoup your strength so you can look after her later. Let me look after you today. Okay Peter?”

Peter hesitates, and then seems to come to some sort of decision, hand tightening around the notebook as his eyes grow fierce. 

“Okay.”

It is the last word heard from Peter for a while. 

---

Peter works silently in his lab, nary a word crossing his lips. No smiles or laughter either. Quentin feels so lost. He wants to be there for Peter but is not entirely sure how. Things had started vanishing from his work space over the last weak but Quentin does not have the heart to confront his apprentice. What should he do?

Peter communicates through notes, handwriting slightly shaky. But clear. Quentin would prefer to to hear Peter speak. Whistle. Have any sign of happiness. 

He had called his own past mentor, seeking ideas, but Phineas had simply told him that time and support are the best he can do. There is not a way for him to replace Ben. Or restore the man to life. Peter just needs someone. But… Quentin feels useless. 

Quentin sucks in a breath as Peter leaves that evening, and he notes another bit of scrap gone missing. Alright. This is enough. He has to say something. 

Peter comes back the next day and Quentin sits at his work bench.

“Peter… Stuff has started to go missing from my lab. Not anything that I cant live without, but Id like to know that your taking things rather them just disappearing. I dont mind sharing, but I want to know I can trust you with my tools and supplies-”

Peter’s face pales and twists with guilt and the teen looks away as his eyes get teary. Quentin softens his voice and touches Peter’s shoulder.

“You dont have to tell me what your secret project is, but you can’t… locking everyone out isnt healthy Peter. And I want to help you. But I cant if you dont-”

Peter starts to scribble something, frowns, crumples the paper and stands with a rush. He throws his bag back over his head and then is gone. Quentin tries to stop him but the teen shoves him and the strength of the push is a enough of a shock to leave Quentin on the floor. Shakily, the man breathes and straightens himself. 

Some how he had messed that up. Darn it! He just… He sighs. And then scoops up the piece of paper. And a few of the newspaper clippings that had fallen from Peter’s bag in the teen’s haste.

‘If thou didst ever thy dear father love … Revenge his foul and most unnatural murder.’

His heart beats a little faster. Oh. How had he not considered this. Peter is looking for revenge. He had not thought the Parker’s the type. His finger tap a unsteady rhythm as he considers the idea. No. Revenge was not like Peter. Nor was killing, which is certainly the end result of a revenge for the death of a love one. He would have hoped Hamlet had taught him… Then again to hear a tale and to live it, are two separate things. 

Hamlet had been alone. 

Peter would not be.

--

Peter feels embarrassed by his little storm out. But everything had been so much since Uncle Ben died. He had thought Quentin would not have noticed as he tried to build things up for Spider-man. His little persona that would allow him to get Ben’s killer. It had gotten him into a few scraps with random thugs he thought might be responsible, quickly teaching him that he needed better gear. And some better fighting skills. 

But he had not thought��

Now Quentin must hate him too. Another person lost as he tried to put things right. Maybe if he just spoke… but his voice constantly failed him when he tried. Fear, panic, distress, anyone of those labels could almost fit the feeling that snatched his ability to speak. 

Peter stands at Quentin’s lab door, twitching slightly. He had to try and explaining himself. He hopes…

He pushes the door open slowy, fingers tightening over his bag strap. Perhaps he could convince Quentin to forgive him. He adjusts his false glasses. His mentor turns as he enters and Peter bends his head slightly. There is not a smile on Quentin’s face like normal.  Pain pieces his heart. He is not welcome here?

“Peter. Here.”

Peter quietly takes a binder from the hands of his mentor. He slowly opens it, and is stunned to find that it is full of information about uncle Ben’s murder. Suspects, type of gun used, history of different similar crimes, where the suspects maybe. 

His eyes are huge, looking up through unneeded glasses to his mentor’s eyes.

“I used up all the contacts I could. Im not… I’m not the most connected in the underground, but I had a few people who owed me or owed a friend of mine who got stuff from the police department that wasn't released to the media.”

Peter holds it reverently and looks up at Quentin. A whisper slips out, voice working for once. 

“Thank- thank you.”

His heart soars for a moment. Quentin smiles and then cups his face gently.

“Just… Peter. Vengengece isnt… you. Justice? That might be more your speed. Just- don't lose that Peter I've come to admire. Okay? Take care of that Peter that your Uncle Ben loved.”

Peter feels tears falling at the reminder of his Uncle. With great power comes great responsibility. He is reminded of the words he had brushed off so casually that night. Peter slowly nods.

He presses closer to his mentor with a soft breath. He would hunt down his uncle’s killer. But he is not so sure he wants to kill them anymore. With these powers he now had and this new information, he is more sure than ever of his success. He could do this. 

[andromedasstarship]

faceless, nameless - the prologue

gif credit - @kylos 

pairing - kylo ren x reader 

warnings - canon-typical star wars violence, depictions of death/violence, fighting (verbal + physical), loosely implied physical intimacy (really up for interpretation here), angst, tension, implied mild love triangle, kylo ren betrays you 

summary - For four years, Kylo Ren considered you to be many things: his right hand, his confidant, an irreplaceable strategist, a friend and most importantly his equal. It all ended when he left you with a blaster shot to the stomach on a near deserted planet. On the brink of death, a rather dashing Resistance Pilot stumbled upon you, saving your life.  

Donning a mask to hide your identity, you’ve grown to become the most fearsome Resistance fighter they have; bewildering the First Order as to how you always seem to ruin their plans and avoid capture. Kylo Ren is a different man from when he left you two years ago, so how will he react when he accidentally finds you alive and well in Poe’s memories?

masterlist // series masterlist // read it on ao3 here 

next chapter 

-----

the prologue - the sun 

On Starkiller Base, there were plenty of rumors as to why Kylo Ren kept you around. Some said it was because of your extensive training in hundreds of different languages, both spoken and signed. Others were sure it was due to your diplomatic upbringing that came with countless connections and near endless wealth. Or, maybe it was due to your more than adequate ability in battle that served him the most. Even some people thought you were a kept woman, who only existed as a way for Kylo Ren to blow off steam behind closed doors. Your favorite rumor was that you were actually a high-ranking Resistance spy who was tasked with infiltrating the First Order at the highest level and that Kylo Ren had become weak because of you. Had it not made you laugh so much the first time you heard it, Kylo would’ve crushed the windpipe of the lowly officer who created the elaborate lie. 

Of course, there were some truths in all the rumors, but none of them exciting. You were in fact trained in hundreds of languages and that training was a product of your diplomatic upbringing. You were exceptionally trained in various forms of combat, but that was something that came after you met Kylo; he had always been afraid of you not being able to properly defend yourself. You were most certainly not a kept woman, not that you and Kylo weren’t intimate, but certainly not in the type of dynamic people thought. You absolutely were not a Resistance spy, but even though neither of you said it aloud, Kylo Ren was definitely weak for you. 

How it actually happened is quite boring. The two of you met when Kylo had just turned 24, still more Ben Solo than Kylo Ren. You were recently 23 at the time, head of a diplomatic welcoming committee that met with Kylo as part of his first official diplomatic endeavor as ‘Kylo Ren’ the soon to be Commander of the entire First Order. He quickly became enamored with you and the way you commanded a team full of older men who clearly didn’t approve of your position- whether it was due to your age or gender he didn’t know- but still treated you with respect; in short, you radiated a confidence and power he desired. For you, it was quite the opposite, Kylo Ren still wasn’t sure of himself and at times still acted like the awkward lanky Jedi boy who had never spoken to a girl outside of school purposes. He was a fresh and welcomed change from all the annoyingly rich and cocky men you met with on a daily basis. 

Him and his team stayed on your home planet for nearly three months. Countless delegates from various planets flocked there for balls, meetings, conferences, and more. Your connections ran deep and you directly aided in the First Order’s successes during those three months. For the first few weeks, you and Kylo skirted around the obvious pull between the two of you. He wasn’t exactly sure how to ‘woo’ a girl, nor was he even sure if he was allowed to. His lack of action caused you to regularly doubt if he also felt the spark, or if it was completely one sided on your end. Weeks of longing gazes and accidental brushes of fingertips finally came to an end when the two of you were sitting on your private balcony, overlooking the well kept grounds, discussing the conference that had just ended. It was a roaring success for your planet as well as the First Order, both of you securing mining resources at an exceptional locked rate for a minimum of fifty basic years. You made the first move, he was irresistible under the moonlight, closing the space between you on your bench and pressing your lips directly on his. In his hesitation you thought you had completely misread the past month, but it was only a moment later that his hands found purchase in your hair, pulling you closer. The two of you were nearly inseparable for the rest of his trip. 

It was difficult, when he finally had to return to his new master and some massive ship that would be lightyears away from you. Unspoken promises were made the night before he left, declarations of love and devotion made behind closed doors. He was still far from truly becoming Kylo Ren, had copious amounts of training to finish before he would see himself be fitting for someone like you. If he was nothing else, Kylo was desperate for loyalty and when you watched his ship leave you had no doubts he would come back. 

And he did, nearly an entire standard year later. You almost didn’t recognize him when he stepped off his personal ship. All broad shoulders and shrouded in layers of black, with that intimidating mask covering his face. He was proving to be quite the warrior, the tales of him and the Knights he commanded reaching the farest edges of the galaxy. When the welcoming festivities had ended and he removed his mask in the privacy of your room, you found a mature face that had lost the softness you once knew. It was no matter to you, flinging yourself into his arms and vowing to never let go. 

This time, when he left, you went with him of course. Kylo had been shocked when Snoke approved it, but Snoke, ever the manipulator, knew the growing attachment between the two of you would inevitably prove to be valuable in controlling Kylo Ren. 

Moving into a giant spaceship wasn’t easy for you. The dark, cold and everlasting expanse of space was a sharp contrast to your warm ocean planet. You missed the sun on your face and your people, but when you vowed to never let him go, you meant it. As time went on, you grew accustomed to the ship and then eventually Starkiller- which was an entirely different battle, that piece of ice had you complaining for months-, and soon enough you couldn’t imagine a life not in space. 

Most of your days were monotonous, not that you minded. From the first day you stepped foot onto base, Kylo began training you himself. He never wanted you to feel as hopeless and afraid as he did when he woke up to his uncle ready to kill him in his sleep. So he trained you, and he trained you hard. You could wield a lightsaber well enough, as he argued that should anything ever happen to him- a thought you hated entertaining-, his saber would be the best weapon you had available. You were smaller than him, so close combat was a challenge but you learned to use your size and agility as an advantage. What you specialized in, was the staff. It allowed you to give a larger opponent at a safe range until it was possible to take them down. Kylo had a special one created just for you, with double edged electrical ends that you could easily turn on or off. It was rare that he actually let you on a battlefield with him, but when he did you were unstoppable. Not that you minded, you quite enjoyed working behind the scenes, forming battle plans and leading diplomatic endeavors for the First Order. 

Other than Snoke, no one out ranked you, not even Ren; a fact he had been extremely particular about after a visiting diplomat made the excuse of outright ignoring and belittling your presence in a meeting. You were equals in everything, even going as far as taking on the ‘Ren’ moniker. 

Among First Order subordinates, you were fairly well liked, and not just because it was unspoken that anyone who thought badly of you would probably die at Ren’s hand. The people actually liked you. Ren was cold, you were warm. When he was sharp, you were soft. It worked well, his ability to command troops and fuel the fires of war was complimented perfectly by your ability to talk nearly anyone to your side. 

You never wavered in your support for him, ever loyal by his side no matter what he did or who he killed or how many villages he burned to the ground. You stood next to him, never behind, when new planets presented themselves as potential allies. You watched from above when he burned villages, that dared aid the Resistance, to the ground. You cleaned and healed every single wound he received from Snoke’s brutal training. You held him together when the pull to the light made him feel weak and undeserving. 

Anyone could see that you were the sun that Kylo Ren revolved around.  

So, when he came back to Starkiller on that fateful day, covered in blood- your blood-, announcing that you were dead- and he was the one who killed you-, and that your name was never to be uttered on his base or by any First Order subordinate ever again, no one knew what to do. 

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 a/n - hi!!! im so excited for this story, ive never written star wars before and my lore knowledge isnt the best ill admit, so please excuse any minor bits of pieces i may get wrong! comments/likes/reblogs always appreciated. if you wanna be added to the taglist, just ask and ill make one! :D 

no permission is given to copy or republish my writing on any other platform or account. if you see this story outside of my blog or my ao3 it is stolen work. i do not own nor claim to own star wars or any of the character involved in it. 

[witchcraft-in-wonderland]

Virgil's Birthday (Prinxiety)

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

Virgil was, very lonely for someone who lived in such a vibrant society.

But that was most likely because he'd never been outside in his afterlife, at least, not legally.

The doctor was a strange man, he'd only brought Virgil back with the false impression of gaining a wife, or husband as Virgil reprimanded him for soon after being brought back.

But Virgil learned things fairly quickly, like which potions produced the most pro-longed sleep, so he could sneak out.

And what a time to sneak away, the night of halloween, decorations everywhere, singing and dancing.

And rising from a fountain, in all his skeletal glory, Roman Prince-Duke, the ruler of halloween. Virgil couldve fainted on the spot, gods he was hot.

"That's the second time you've slipped deadly nightshade into my soup," Virgil froze as he heard his doctor's voice.

"Third, actually," Virgil replied as he tried to wrench his arm out of the doctor's grip.

And then he heard a tear, but he was running to fast to care about the stub where his arm had once been stitched.

And then he heard singing, something sorrowful and lamenting. He expected to look up and see one of the sirens, only to be taken aback by the sight of the skeleton king.

He doesnt want to rule halloween anymore?. . . Virgil thought silently. He could hardly remember the last time a halloween ruler had felt unhappy with his position, but this, this couldnt lead to good things.

Virgil followed him as closely as possible, until he went beyond the gates of the town, at which point, Virgil had lost him.

So he followed the only other option he had, return home and to whatever awaited him there.

"So, you came back," was the doctor's first snide remark.

"I had to," Virgil replied, tilting his head to the side which had stitching hanging off of it.

"Looking for this?" Virgil couldnt see much of the doctors face, it was always hidden by gray and black smoke, save for glasses, and a broad fanged grin, and he held up the arm Virgil was missing, which waved pitifully.

"You cant keep leaving, it's not safe out there, you know the rules," said the doctor as he stitched Virgil's arm back to the socket. Virgil hated this part of his adventures, the bright lights directly in his face along side the patronizing glare from the doctor. He hadnt even asked to be stitched back to life, much less in a fashion that was basically a prison.

"I'm restless I cant help it!" Virgil shot back, resisting the urge to roll his eyes.

"You're mine you know. I made you," the doctor snarled.

"Well I didnt ask you to." Virgil said, shrinking back as the smoke of the doctors form intruded on his own breathing space.

He was relieved when it was finally over and he could go back to working on the doctors next meal, which would of course, be poisoned.

"And now for the final touch," Virgil coughed slightly as the fumes of the frogs breath entered the concoction. He was lucky to keep a straining spoon in his boots, otherwise he would've been screwed when the doctor asked him to try it first.

But lucky it worked, because it seemed that his beloved Prince Roman hadnt been out for ages.

So he decided to send him a basket. It took a few tries to get him to notice, but the smile he cast Virgil was enough to make even the coldest hearts melt.

Of course Virgil couldnt stay for long, he had to make sure he didnt get caught.

He wouldnt have to wait much longer, soon enough there was a town meeting called. Roman went on for hours about something called "Christmas". And everyone else seemed sold on the idea, but Virgil wasnt so sure.

"Roman I'm not sure I-" Virgil had tried his best to dissuade Roman from the idea when he'd asked for a costume, but Roman was stubborn, very stubborn.

"You'll do great! See! The red goes here, and this part is white, its easy!" Roman said, shoving Virgil in another direction, Virgil had to dodge quickly as the doctor entered his field of vision, that was a confrontation he certainly wasnt ready for.

"This just doesn't feel right. . ." Virgil muttered to himself, running a hand along a nearby set of bushes.

And then he noticed something off about one of them, a star and brightly colored ornaments, which promptly burst into flames. Virgil jerked his hand back, eyes wide with fear, and rushed back toward the hall to warn Roman as quickly as he could.

"Roman!-" Virgil skidded to a halt before he ran into the trio of trouble makers that was Apate Hera and Adrestia, or as the town liked to call them, the Trick or Treaters.

"What is it Virgil?" Roman placed his hands over Virgil's shoulders, boy was he glad he didnt have enough blood to blush.

"I dont think this is a good idea- I've been thinking it over and- oh Roman there has to be something else! This is insane!" Virgil pleaded.

"Of course it's insane! That's the point!" Roman said, smiling at him.

"Roman I'm serious! This is dangerous!" Virgil continued.

"Virgil my friend I swear to you this is all perfectly safe! It's only one night! Maybe more if it goes well!" And once again Virgil was being ushered out the door.

He avoided the celebrations for the most part, just thinking about it made him want to vomit.

And then it was December 25th, and Virgil couldnt take it anymore.

Roman may have wanted to take over Christmas, but Virgil knew better, hence why he had decides to make his way to the forbidden isle, upon which lived the disgraced former king of Halloween, and upon which, Santa Claus was being held captive.

Virgil snipped the stitches on one of his legs and allowed it to hop away. It would be difficult to preform a rescue mission minus one leg, but Brennan wasnt exactly smart.

Or so he thought.

"Well well well, isnt this a surprise? Come to rescue Christmas, ragdoll?" Virgil froze halfway down the ladder as he heard Brennan's voice.

"Put your leg back on." Virgil was pulled off the ladder rather unceremoniously, leg shoved back in one hand. Virgil fell back on the floor, heart racing. But he did as told, it wasnt as if he could run after all.

He'd forgotten what Brennan was like, it'd been so long since his rule. He was a gambler, a crooked one at that.

"One more roll of the dice outta do it~" Brennan purred.

Virgil wasnt paying much attention at that point, currently focused on begging for Roman to show up.

And then the table to which he was tied began moving backwards, he screamed, and he fell. But only for a moment, before he was tossed off to the side, and face to face with Roman, who motioned for his silence before latching himself to the board.

Virgil had never been more terrified than he was while watching Roman dodge everything from swords to guns to axes, he let out a wince and reached a hand over his own stitching as Brennan's began to fall apart with a switch.

"Are you alright?" Roman rushed to Virgil's side as soon as he'd finished, holding Virgil's face gently in his hands.

"I'm alright- just a little shaken. . ." Virgil muttered.

"Well I for one have had it with place. Next time you have any bright ideas of taking over someone else's holiday. I'd listen to him, hes the only one who makes any sense around this insane asylum!." It was odd to see a character like Santa so angry, but at this point, Virgil was to tired to focus on much.

He barely flinched when he saw the doctor with another creation, this one more wispy and feminine.

Instead, he went up to Hangman's Hill and lay across the grass.

"My dearest friend, if you dont mind~" Virgil shivered when he heard Roman's voice.

"I'd like to join you by your side~" Roman sat down.

"Where we can gaze into the stars~" and their hands were intertwined.

"And sit together, now and forever, for it is plain as anyone can see," Virgil joined his chorus, resting his head against his chest.

"We're simply meant to be~"

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[shyrose57]

Brothers anon and ah, its just me than. Links on tumblr break half the time for me sorry bout that!

1: Mostly how it looks in the actual episode but with some changes. Its gaint, even has multiple floors, most rooms have a glass dome roof with iron railings (3-4) lining the bottom of the glass. The hallway typically have windows leading up to the roof, but the roof and both floor are a mix of materials like iron, copper, wood, and even gold. The most complex room is the Council room, which has a a higher roof than the rest, with mostly wood railings that go all the way up and lead to a circle at the top. The Council is the group that leads Mizu, they have 1 leader of every Idol to represent the different opinions of the citizens, with 1 special member that doesnt belong to any Idol, and is instead used to represent the opinions of people who either haven't chosen a idol yet, got kicked out of a idol following, and just to give a unbiased opinion most of the time. They do make most decisions, mostly those relating to topics like construction, farming, money distribution, where people can live, etc. And they also mostly agree on most subjects and don't agure, but they do have massive disagreements on topics and problems like Representation in other Cities/Kingdoms, trading, visitors and immigrants, and sometimes supply missions. 

3: Situations like taking care of his siblings (I have decided Benjamin shall have siblings) and friends, and he was also put under extreme stress as a kid in school and family life, but unlike Ranbob, he managed to successfully communicate his struggle and find coping mechanisms. Also when he went off to live by himself for a bit, he was under sudden extreme situations where he had to make split second decision. So he just learned from everything thats happened to him over time. 

8: Levi exists purely to make Watson and others go insane. People claimed it was made up because they claimed most events as unrealistic (like Doomsday, Techno escaping a death trial, Pandoras Vault (they believed it impossible for something to be inescapable)). Plus the fact it seemed cruel such young people where faced with such trauma that no sane person would let it happen, and the fact most historical important items couldn't be found, people claiming that they where made up (also cause if the land was that exposed to such devastation, it would've collapsed on itself). No to both of those, by this point their to far away from Dream for him to have a direct meaningful affect on the group, and while the residents of Kelalen know it was Dreams sword, the group does not know. Nope! Mizu came about years after Kelalen was forgotten about and shamed. And Mizu was only made because of the growing number of believers in the SMP history was causing disruptions in both the political sense and educational sense, so it was made to separate the "outcasts". Though Mizu eventually grew as big as most cities, and greatly civilized and advanced, though they where still often "forgotten" about and basically seperate from the Kingdom that set them up and became their own place (though not officially). 

They do have a friendship! Its not super close but their definitely friends. Ranbob is definitely a worrier, he heard that two of his friends almost died he immediately goes to them and fuses over them. And when their recovering he doesnt leave their side, infact Benjamin has to drag him away from the two just to get him to eat. And he refuses to sleep unless he's like directly on top of them. Yeah, Cletus challenges Grievous to a parkour challenge over a Delta Basalt, and he happily accepts. They end up giving everyone a heart attack after Cletus slips and almost falls onto a magma block. Jackie plays in soul sand and dumps a handful down Rans shirt, Watson teaches Charles and Isaac how to make gold from gold nuggets and more Piglin culture. When Cletus is cleared to be ok and Jackie stops getting soul sand in areas he didn't even know existed. They all sit in a circle and decide what they should try first, with Ran and Watson watching carefully and preventing them from drinking anything that they recognized as harmful. But other than that they just let the others do whatever. 

10: Because he couldn't use it, when Dream was a full human he used to be able to access his powers at his own will. But after his spirit got linked to his mask his power greatly reduced. To the point he relies on others for his powers, more specifically, he needs them to be exposed to him for a certain amount of time (like 2 weeks) until he can use their own essence/spirit to help his powers. When the group of people came after Ranbob left, they stayed for a long time, especially after they took the mask with them. Dream got the power back. Cause it is a "I worked to hard to give this up." Type situation. Ranbob was his first victim and the first person he had control over in decades, he considers Ranbob the puppet he was meant to have and refuses to let him go. Everyone is the nat to him, but specifically Ran. Cause Ran was the only person who survived the murders, so Dream sees him as a kill that was taken from him that he needs to fix. Everyone else to him is nothing more than an annoyance, and he's more than happy to use them as nothing more than a stepping stone to kill once he's done with them. 

13: Ran is stronger than everyone else, Jackie is faster than everyone else, and Watson is more acrobatic than everyone else. Sorry can you reword "Is Jackie considered stronger than them aside from shared tactics, or is it the other way around?"? I dont completely understand sorry. Kind of, I'll say. There can only be 3 ranking members, but it can also be 2 Corporals and 1 Sergeant. 

14: They where caught off guard, but also knew something must be going on due to the fishermen staying closer to Ranbob than normal. He never got too far, as he isnt very fast and Charles and both Isaac tend to be fast enough to get him. If the episode is really bad bringing him back can lead into physical fights but it rarely gets into that, as it seems like Ranbob really doesn't want to fight them most of the time, and holds himself back.

Well, I hope it’s working for you now, cause that sounds less than ideal, honestly.

1: Well, Mizu sounds gorgeous, quite frankly. As for the council having a member of no idol, what about that? People can get kicked out from an idol group? Why? Do some just never choose an idol? Also, how’s the housing situation there? Are there like, apartments on one of the floors, or something? Why does the council not really agree on outside affairs?

3: Not gonna lie, I’m rather curious. What kind of life did Benjamin lead to be under such heavy stress? Does he relate to Ranbob because of this? And what was he doing when he lived on his own to need to make fast-paced decisions? Also, siblings! What’re his siblings like?

8: He sounds like it.

And hm. There are several things I’ve taken from this. 

Do totems no longer exist, if they don’t believe Techno could have survived, or did that particular piece of the story just get left out over time?

Has Pandora’s vault fallen? And why would people find it unbelievable? If it’s the future, shouldn’t they have even more advanced technology than that? Or is it simply the lack of evidence that leads them to disagreeing about it’s existence? 

They don’t believe people would have been so cruel to the younger ones? Oof, um. Well, at least that says something about the future, I guess. 

Mizu sounds like it has an interesting history in it’s self. How do Ran and Ranbob feel about being in a world that basically shunned the people of what would eventually become their home? Do they ever have issues when people find out they originate from Mizu, or worship an idol? From how you put it, it seems like that wasn’t really looked upon well, since they shunted the people who did it to Mizu.

Friendships for the win! Maybe not close, but it sounds like an interesting dynamic. Charles honestly seems pretty mild, and as you said, shy, so putting him with Mr.Random And Chaotic certainly sounds like something. How did these two become friends?

And honestly, it sounds like everyone had a lot of unique experiences in the Nether. It also sounds like Ran and Ranbob were probably an inch from a heart-attack the entire time, considering the shenanigans ongoing. It sounds kind of cute that Ranbob was only sleeping when he was close to them though, and it gives me the image of a giant fluffy cat, so win-win there.

10: Interesting. Was Ranbob not enough to fully return that power to him when the Fishermen first came and took him? Or did Dream just not think they’d get that far and not react in time, when he still had that power from his puppet?

And, uh, wow. Dream was certainly off his rocker before, but that’s definitely cemented now. Is anyone aware he thinks of Ranbob in such a way? Does Ranbob know? How are everyone’s feelings on that-besides y’know, ‘gonna murder Mr.Mask Man’. How does everyone feel about being considered as ‘nats’?

13: Huh. And yeah, I confused myself rereading that. Basically, is Jackie considered stronger than those two? You said they were mostly on par, because of the shared tactics, so when it comes to cutting those shared tactics out of the picture, does Jackie come out on top?

14: So the gang could tell? If I may ask, what were the tells that gave Ranbob away?

[plainsight6578]

aftersome.

Pairing: Mista x Giorno

Genre: fluff to angst to a tiny bit of smut and fluff

Summary: Mista and Giorno had been there for each other since that fateful day that they met.

Word count: 3,422

A/N: I don’t really remember the time-line of the anime very well, so forgive me if I made any mistake xoxo. Characters may be a little OOC but i tried my best.

aftersome

adj. astonished to think back on the bizarre sequence of accidents that brought you to where you are today—as if you’d spent years bouncing down a Plinko pegboard, passing through a million harmless decision points, any one of which might’ve changed everything—which makes your long and winding path feel fated from the start, yet so unlikely as to be virtually impossible.

(via The Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows)

Since Giorno was little, he’d been repeatedly told he was a failure, a disappointment, and an eyesore by his loving parents. And, as little children do, he believed every word. So, he never made any friends. In his mind, he was better off alone. Other people would be better off without him. Consequently, he never had anyone to tell him that he wasn’t all those things that he and his parents believed he was.

Giorno never had any, nor thought that he needed any friends. They were useless and would only serve as a distraction from his dream. When he was feeling down, he never had anyone to talk to; since talking was also useless. He just needed to pick himself up, work harder, do better. He didn’t need someone to tell him how proud they were of him, or that he’s been working too hard and that he deserved a break. Those were all useless.

He didn’t need anyone and no one needed him. Giorno never considered himself anything other than what he was told, he never had any reason to. The words that scarred him as a child would haunt him for the rest of his life. He’d always been alone. As far as he knew, he only ever hurt those that were close to him.

So, when Mista called him his “lucky boy”, he was so shocked he could barely process what that implied. That nickname given to him by this strange man he’d just met would mean that everything he’d known about himself - everything he’d been taught about who he was - was a lie. That couldn’t be true. 15 years of bringing misfortune to everyone around him couldn’t be wrong (although, admittedly, he never had many experiences with any other people that weren’t his abusive parents).

‘What a weird guy...’ was Giorno’s first impression of Mista. That was the only way to describe him: weird, not necessarily in a bad or good way. Mista was just weird; he’d contradicted everything Giorno had stood for. 

Mista was a simple man, simply following orders from his higher-ups, doing what he had to in order to survive. He was honest and upfront. Everything you needed to know about him, you could see. Giorno was far more mysterious, hiding his years of trauma underneath a calm and collected façade. He had his underlying intentions, and never fully exposed himself around anyone.

Giorno could never understand the strange man. He certainly wasn’t a lucky boy. It wasn’t luck that allowed him to survive, it was his own intuition, taking things he’d learnt and putting them to good use. It was his own skills that had lead him to where he was, and would take him to even higher lengths. He knew he was capable of achieving that with his skills, not luck.

Giorno stopped in his tracks. This was a first for him; how did this single interaction with this man he barely knew got him to reconsider everything he’d done? It was true, though, Giorno had faith that his plan could work because he had faith in himself. He just never previously realized it. And it felt like all the work he’d put in to get himself this far was paying off, like he was starting to reap the rewards of perseverance. In an instant, he could clearly see where he was going when it had previously felt like a daze. He supposed that he wasn’t entirely a failure, if he’d made it this far. How is he suddenly coming to question everything that he thought he was?

As far as Giorno knew, he was the most unlucky boy on earth. Mista didn’t seem to see him that way. Even though they just met? What did he know? Mista was a simpleton who didn’t know anything about Giorno or his life.

Still, he’d appreciated the nickname. It felt nice to have someone call him something that wasn’t an insult.

________________________________________________________________

After Giorno had saved Abbaccio and Fugo from the Man in the Mirror and had returned safely to the gang, Mista had pestered Giorno for more detail because neither Abbaccio nor Fugo were much of the bragging-about-our-super-cool-epic-win type (and neither was Giorno, really).

“Gimme all the juicy stuff! This dude was tough to beat right?! So, why’re ya leavin’ all the cool parts out?!” He’d yelled.

Giorno had no idea what classified as “juicy”, so he’d simply given Mista a quick summary of the fight: how he’d turned that brick into a snake to find the enery stand user, and how they eventually defeated him. Giorno only realized after he’d finished that he’d been talking for quite sometime. Mista was enthusiastically nodding his head throughout the story, adding in some “wooooah!!” sound effects of his own here and there. Giorno blushed, he got too carried away.

“Man! You’re so cool, Giorno!! I’d never think to do that!” Mista said, with an almost glimmer in his gaze, he was looking at Giorno in a way that hecouldn’t recognize. Rather than hostility, he was feeling...admiration coming from the other man. He remembered a similar look coming from Bucciarati, but that was when he had beat him in a fight then. What did Giorno do to deserve this from Mista? He could almost believe that Mista actually meant what he said.

‘I’m not cool...’ Giorno thought, but when Mista was staring at him like that... Who was he to say no. He didn’t know how to respond, so he blushed and looked away. Maybe he could allow himself to think he was slightly cool in that moment, he certainly did feel... cool, if only just a little.

________________________________________________________________

The long road trip to retrieve their boss’s order from the statue that Giorno and Mista had gone into meant more time alone with Mista. For some reason, Giorno’s heart couldn’t seem to slow down. He decided it was from the paranoia of being attacked by another stand user. Since they’d started this mission, they’ve been relentlessly attacked by stand user after stand user, with barely any time to relax. That’s why his palms won’t stop sweating, and why there was a strange, tingling sensation in his stomach, and why his heart skipped a beat when Mista had called his name... Yeah, he’s just nervous about being attacked again.

Wait. Mista had called his name. He was talking to him.

“Right, Giorno?” He’d asked. “Sorry, I wasn’t listening, Mista,” Giorno replied.

“What are you overthinking now? There isnt another stand user for miles, we’ll be fine.” Mista kicked his legs up onto the dashboard, emphasizing his complete lack of anxiety. Giorno almost envied his ability to be so relaxed (although, he knew Mista was always prepared for an attack, he never really let his guard down). 

Considering how they’d had lots of time to kill in one cramped car, the pair had talked quite a bit, well, it was mostly Mista talking at Giorno. He liked it that way, though, Mista’s voice helped him unwind, and something about the way Mista’s lips moved as they talked made his stomach clench and his mouth dry.

Being with Mista, just the two of them, like this, it could almost convince Giorno to take a break and enjoy the little things in life, all things that Giorno had deemed ‘useless’. And yet, this philosophy that Giorno had held close to him as a protection mechanism was slowly falling apart. Rather, it was being undone. And Giorno didn’t know why, but he felt like a part of him was letting it happen, like, deep down, this is what he wanted: to sit back and be able to enjoy.

“Useless...” He muttered, under his breath he was getting influenced by Mista. He couldn’t afford to relax. But Mista brought that side out in him and he didn’t know why. Giorno couldn’t help but feel slightly at ease with Mista beside him, and it felt nice not to have to keep his guard up around someone all the time. It felt nice to be able to rely on someone else.

________________________________________________________________

Mista somehow always found a way to get himself horribly injured during their stand fights. After the battle with Ghiaccio and his stupidly powerful White Album stand, and after he’d made sure Mista was fully healed, Giorno made sure to give the older man a thorough lecture about his actions during the battle.

“Getting yourself injured like that is useless, Mista. You shouldn’t do useless things like that. What would the team do if we didn’t have you? You should think about that too!” Giorno rambled, “your actions were dangerous, Mista, don’t do useless things like that again.”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it,” he replied, an embarrassed flush covering his cheeks, “I had the amazing Giorno to cover for me though, so I wasn’t that worried!” He finished with a wink towards the younger boy. And something in that made Giorno’s heart beat faster. Mista is alive, he’s still with him. A feeling of relief washed over Giorno, and he released the breath that he’d been holding in. 

Giorno sighed, he could almost cry. Remembering the sight of Mista’s body filled with bullets and then seeing him here, laughing and joking like everything was fine. Giorno’s heart clenched. Without saying anything, Giorno layed his head on Mista’s shoulder, close to his heart, and listened to the sound of the blood flowing through his body. Mista was left wide-eyed, but laid his hand on top of Giorno’s, who was clenching his fists. Soon as he did, Mista felt him relax against him. 

They sat like that in silence for a few minutes, just breathing in each other’s presence. Mista was caught completely off guard by this, he didn’t know that his actions would affect Giorno like this. Perhaps they’d gotten closer than he’d thought in the short time span that they’d known each other.

“I meant what I said, though,” Mista whispered, “as long as I have you with me, I know everything will be just fine...”

________________________________________________________________

Staring at Abbaccio’s corpse, Mista waited for some sign of life from his comrade. Giorno couldn’t heal him... He was just... Gone. There was nothing they could do. Mista’s head was racing at a million miles an hour but none of his thoughts formed anything coherent.

How did this even happen? They were gone for a minute. Why did this happen? With every blink Mista expected to see Abbaccio in a different position than he was. But Abbaccio never moved. He didn’t even blink. 

“WE’RE NOT JUST GONNA LEAVE HIM HERE, RIGHT?!” Narancia yelled. Mista wanted to agree with him. Watching Bucciarati walking away from their teammate - no, their friend - he understood Narancia’s anger. But he knew there was nothing they could do. Bucciarati was probably hurting more than any of them were.

Clenching his fists, he ripped his eyes off of Abbaccio’s corpse and followed Bucciarati. They all knew the risks of this mission. They had no choice but to continue.

Back inside the turtle, the gang continued on with their mission. It would take some time to get to Rome, so Bucciarati volunteered to keep watch outside the turtle while the rest of them got some rest. Inside, Narancia had passed out on in an uncomfortable position on the couch and Trish had curled up on the floor, eventually drifting to sleep.

Mista couldn’t relax enough to fall asleep. After seeing Abbaccio like that, he was wondering about his other comrades, he didn’t think he could keep his sanity if he had to see that again.

Mista was so lost in his thoughts he failed to notice that Giorno had placed himself next to him, “you shouldn’t think about useless things, Mista,” he said.

Slightly startled, his first instinct was to go on the defensive, “I’m not thinking about anything...!”

Giorno just stared at him blankly, although, Mista detected a faint hint of sympathy.

“Uh, well, I guess I am just overthinking...” He admitted. “I mean, Abbaccio died without anyone even noticing... So, I can’t help but think... That could have been any of us. If our enemy is that powerful... How many more of us are gonna die? Are we even... gonna be able to defeat him at all-”

“That’s useless, Mista,” Giorno stated firmly, “what you’re thinking about is useless. It’ll only distract you when we’re in battle.”

“Y-you’re right...” There was a slight twinge of shame inside Mista for having to be told off by someone younger than him for the second time now, “still, after everything we’ve been through, we all could have died so many times...” He adjusted his position slightly to face Giorno and then cupped both his hand inside his palms, “you amputated your own arms, for God’s sake, and... I almost died too! I just...” His tone was all over the place. Even now, he hadn’t fully grasped the concept of what it means to die. “I really don’t want to lose anyone else...” He said. 

Giorno knew how hard this must be for the him, he’d just lost one of his closest friends, they must’ve been like family, and with barely any time to properly grieve, they were going head-first into a much more dangerous battle. He didn’t know what to do or say. This is the first time he’d gotten this close to someone to consider them a friend and, frankly, he didn’t want to lose anyone either. After everything they’ve been through, Giorno felt a sense of fondness towards the gang members. 

“We’re right here, Mista,” he decided was appropriate, and leaned in to touch his forehead to Mista, “I’m not going anywhere, either.”

Mista’s hold on Giorno’s hands tightened. The look in Giorno’s eyes was so tender and soft, something Mista hadn’t seen in such a long time. Something snapped inside Mista, and he could no longer hold back his tears. Giorno didn’t know what to do as Mista sobbed into his shoulder. He just let Mista let all his grief out, if he could help Mista in any way, he would. This is his way of showing Mista just how thankful he was for him. Thanks to Mista, Giorno felt so much less of a burden to himself and others, he realized that everything he’d thought he knew as a child about himself was so much farther than the truth. 

Giorno’s chest ached seeing Mista like this. He wished he could take his pain away, just as Mista had freed him from his. He let Mista cry into him as long as he needed.

Even after Mista had calmed down, he didn’t move from his position. The way Giorno was leaning forward had exposed his star-shaped birthmark. Mista stared at it for a while, admiring how it seemed to glimmer despite the darkness in the room. He wondered where they would be without Giorno. He would certainly be dead, they probably all would be; with how many fatal wounds he’d healed for them.

Mista couldn’t really face Giorno right now. He liked the position they were in particularly because Giorno couldn’t see Mista’s puffy nose or blood-shot eyes, nor the snot that threatened to drip out of his nose. He’d always showed himself as this strong and care-fee guy; so breaking down in his teammates arms like that felt almost humiliating - or at least, it would be if this was anyone else but Giorno. Still, he didn’t want Giorno to see him in this state. So, as a thank you, Mista had placed the lightest peck right onto Giorno’s star-shaped birthmark. Giorno physically tensed up, and he blushed all the way to his ears. Giorno, being who he was and having absolutely no social skills, he couldn’t understand why.

“M-Mista-” He’d began to protest. “This is how I’m saying thank you, dumbass,” Mista answered, and intertwined their fingers, just for emphasis. “Why...” Giorno asked, what was there to thank him for? 

“Because you’re here.”

________________________________________________________________

Mista was the first one kiss Giorno’s hand after he’d taken over the organization. He experienced Giorno’s skill first-hand, there was no one better he could think to take over the organization. He was a simple man, he followed orders and was stupidly honest. That’s why he swore his loyalty to Giorno.

When the pair had finally gained some privacy, Mista immediately slumped his shoulders, no longer needing to impress his higher-ups or assert dominance to his subordinates. Though, he was still restless. He’d been like that all day, in fact. Being around all the other gang members, meeting new ones, and receiving hunderds of condolences from them, he, naturally, couldn’t stop thinking about finding his comrade’s corpses, the sight and smell of their blood...

Giorno merely stared at Mista as he paced around the room. No doubt he was stressed right now. Everything that he was used to was changing. Nothing was simple anymore. 

But everything was over now. Things would get better... Right? Giorno wasn’t sure- No! He shouldn’t be thinking like this. Abbaccio, Narancia, and Bucciarati had sacrificed their lives for this. ‘Thinking like that is useless.’ He told himself.

He had no idea what was going through Mista’s head right now, and he wasn’t sure how to ask. Giorno had inhaled, preparing to say something before Mista approached him and grabbed both his hands, “Giorno!” He yelled, “you’re still here!”

Their faces were mere centimeters apart, Mista was blinking at him, like he was waiting a response, “that’s right...”

“And you’re not going anywhere!”

“No, I’m not.”

Mista touched their foreheads together, just like they did back inside the turtle, and he smiled, “and as long as you’re with me... Everything’s gonna be alright!”

Giorno blinked. That’s what he said back then, too, and he didn’t exactly classify what had happened as ‘alright’. But, as he was being held by Mista, and seeing Mista’s unwavering smile, he just couldn’t bring himself to disagree.

“As long as I’m here,” Giorno started, lifting his hands from Mista’s grip to cup his face, “everything will be alright,” he whispered into the taller man’s mouth. Giorno also wanted to protect Mista with everything he had.

They were so close to each other... It seemed like they were slowly inching closer until the gap between them finally closed. All of their pent-up desire for each other, the feelings that Giorno had absolutely refused to acknowledge, they were all reaching their climax. They pulled away after a few seconds, before Mista swiftly closed the space between them again, and then proceeding to pull at Giorno’s bottom lip with his teeth, and placed his hands on Giorno’s hips to hold him closer.

Giorno gasped and grabbed onto Mista’s collar for support. His head seemed to be completely taken over by Mista. His scent, the way he tasted, the way his hands felt on his hips, Mista, Mista, Mista. All these new emotions he was feeling made his head spin in the most euphoric way.

Mista took advantage of Giorno’s open mouth and shoved his tounge inside his it. Giorno definitely wasn’t expecting this to heat up so quickly, and he definitely wasn’t expecting to feel Mista’s tongue inside his mouth. Giorno was losing control of himself, he moaned into Mista’s mouth, completely overwhelmed by just making out with him.

Giorno was almost completely leaning on Mista for support, his legs were about to give way any second . When they pulled away for oxygen, Giorno let out a desperate, “M-Mis...ta..” His face was entirely coated with a glowing shade of red, his eyes heavy-lidded, with Mista’s name on his lips. Mista’s lower half twitched at the sight, already addicted to it.

He did have to admit, he felt slightly weird doing this so soon after his friends’ deaths, but with Giorno being the most important thing to him right now, he wanted to feel him in every way to convince himself he was still here. He needed to feel his heartbeat, feel the warmth of his breath, feel the movement of his tongue inside his mouth, feel him moaning into his mouth... He needed to be able to feel that Giorno was alive.

Mista hugged him tight, just taking in Giorno’s presence, “you’re still here...” He whispered into Giorno’s neck, who barely had it in him to point out how, of course he’s still here, where else would he be? So, instead, he simply whispered a quiet, “I’m not going anywhere.”

________________________________________________________________

A/N: ASDKJSFHLSK OMG OMG OKAY IK THIS IS KINDA ALL OVER THE PLACE BUT I WROTE THIS OVER THE SPAN OF LIKE THREE DAYS AND I HAD THIS HUGE ESSAY DUE SO I WAS LIKE WRITING THIS AND MY ESSAY AT THE SAME TIME IT WAS SO CHAOTIC AND MY EMOTIONS WERE ALL OVER THE PLACE

ANYWAY IF YOU READ THIS FAR I RLY HOPE YOU ENJOYED TY FOR READING PLEASE LEAVE ANY FEEDBACK YOU HAVE!!!! I proofread it like six million times but if there are any mistakes I’m sorry!!! Pls lmk so I can fix them :3.

[mysteryofren]

Better Luck Next Time, Space Cowboy.

Part 41 of So Happy Together

Masterlist

A/N: i just realized this series is gonna be hella long, and not a lot of people may read it bc of it sjbajslflj so i might cut some of the things i wanted in the story out, and make a few oneshots about everything i wanted to put in

warnings: for the love of god its so much fluff, like a sickening amount of fluff.

Tags: @wumboho @pylopenpolo @duty-isnt-always-honour

“Do you see it?” He asked. 

“No.” You responded as you leaned over the bridge to get a better look. 

“Careful, I don't want you to fall over the rail.” He said as he grabbed your torso to keep you from going over.

“Point it out again.” You said as you squint to see a little better. His hand came by your face as he pointed out where to look.

  Following where his finger was going you finally saw it. A butterfly hiding on the floor of the exhibit. It was bright blue, but it hid in the shade making it hard to see. It wasn't too big yet, but it was already bigger than most butterflies. The longer you looked the more of it you saw. 

“What was it called again?” You asked. 

“Blue Morpho butterfly.” Ben said looking the beautiful bug with you.

“It can have a wingspan of 5-8 inches.” He said. You got down from the bridge railing, and walked over to the next plaque that indicated another kind of butterfly.

 It had been a week since you had gotten home. It's been about 2 days since Ben got home. His parents made him drive home from Bracca for running off without telling anyone. When he got back he immediately made his way to your grandfather's house where you were. He didn't stay long. He asked you on a date, and then left before telling you anything else. The next day he told you about how the local museum was holding an exhibit on butterflies for only a limited time, and he wanted to go see it. He insisted on bringing you. Now here you were, walking along a little path that cut through the greenhouse that held the butterflies. He was always the first one to find them in the bushes and trees. Then he would point them out to you, and tell you about them. 

“So what's up with you, and these things? You seem to know a good amount about butterflies.” 

“My grandma. She had a bunch of books on them for her garden, and she used to read them to me. When I learned how to read I would read them myself.” 

“That’s cute.” You said as you looked out again to see if you could find more. There was a small man made pond that sat in the corner. There were 2 turtles on the edge of the water. You watched as one slowly crawled into the water. 

“Ok do you wanna find more? Or maybe we could go inside, and see the rest of the museum?”

“Find me one more.” You said. 

“Im on it.” He responded as he looked into the greenery. It was a few minutes before he saw one, but when he did he pointed it out for you.

“Over there. Its by that cluster of those little white flowers.” He said. 

 You got yourself to his eye level, and looked at the flowers. Sure enough, on a small bundle of baby’s breath there was a yellow butterfly with a few streaks of black that started at the top of the wings, then faded away.

“What type is that?” You asked him. 

“I'm not too sure. I know it's a swallowtail, but I don't know what type.” 

“Can you check the pamphlet?” You heard the sound of him opening the small booklet. It flew off before he found it. 

“Here it is. Eastern Tiger Swallowtail. Their host plants are Wild black cherries, tulip trees, and sweet bay Magnolias.” 

“I feel like I've seen one before.” You said. 

“You probably have. It’s one of the most common species of butterfly in eastern north america.” You stayed staring at the flowers it had sat on for a few minutes before walking away. You walked out of the humid greenhouse into the cold of the museum. Ben wasn't too far behind you. He came out, and looked around. 

   He suggested that you two go to the planetarium. On your way to it he told you about how him, and Matt went through a phase where they were obsessed with space. He told you about how this one time he had a space themed birthday party where he dressed as an astronaut. Han had made him a fake spaceship set up in his tree house. You laughed at the thought of a 6 year old Ben Solo dressed as an astronaut for a party. He also told you about the time him, and Matt got matching space outfits, and listened to old space launch audios while playing in the tree ship. 

“What happened to the tree house? I've been to your house so many times, and I have never seen one.” You asked him as you both stood in line for the planetarium. 

“It's not in the backyard. It's in the woods behind our fence. My mom doesn’t know about it though so don't tell her.”  He said. 

“Wait it's still there?” 

“Yeah, the ship set up is still there, and everything.” 

“Ok you have to take me to see this thing when I go over.” You said. 

“I cant show you, sorry.” You dramatically gasped.

“And why not?” You said with fake shock.

“Space crew members only.” That made you laugh.

“Space crew members? Who's on your crew so far?” 

“Me, Matt, Chewie, my Dad, and my Uncle Lando, and Luke.”

“And how does someone become a crew member?” You asked. 

“You gotta prove you're worthy to travel the galaxy with.” 

“Sounds like a hard club to get into.” 

“Certainly is.” He said.

 The doors for the planetarium opened, and you both turned your attention to it. You walked in with the crowd, and found some seats next to each other. He was so fascinated by everything, like a kid watching his favorite movie. Every now and then he would whisper a random fact to you about a planet, or star. You would be lying if you said it didn't make you happy to see him like this. The Ben you knew before was someone who didn't wanna do things like this. The Ben you knew before would think something like a museum was stupid. Turns out that was a front. The real Ben was a giant nerd who had a spaceship tree house. Soon the show ended, and he actually looked kind of sad about it. You even asked if he wanted to watch it again, and he didn't want to make you sit through it again. After some convincing you told him you would be more than happy to go again after lunch, and he agreed.

 The museum had a small outdoor dining area that you chose to sit at. You had talked about the day, and all the stuff you saw. He beamed about the planetarium, and how it felt like he was actually in space. Your favorite part was probably the butterfly exhibit though. You liked having him point them out for you, and tell you about them. It was like learning without all the work, besides he's already graduated, you would be a bad friend if you didn't help keep his brain active. Stars know it definitely wasn't active before. You stopped talking for a bit while you watched 2 birds battle over a chip. He even gave them voices, and names. The two of you went back and forth talking as them. 

“You were the chosen one Garbanzo. It was said you would share the chip not keep it.” He said in a high pitched voice as the two stopped and looked back, and forth, between the chip and the other. 

“I hate you!!!” You said in a gravely evil sounding voice. Just then the other bird grabbed the chip, and flew to a nearby light post. 

“It's over Garbanzo. I have the high ground.” Ben said back. Just then the little bird had flown off with the chip, and the other hopped around to look for something else. You felt kind of bad for him so you grabbed one of Ben's fries, and tossed it to him.

“Hey! Why my fry?” He asked. 

“C’mon Ben, hasn't Garbanzo lost enough?” He laughed before popping a fry in his mouth. 

“I guess he did. Poor little guy just wanted his chip.” 

“Hey, if he didn't want to lose the whole chip he should have shared with Q-tip.” You said as you took a bite out of your chicken tender. 

“I still don't know why you named him Q-tip.” 

“Why did you name the other one Garbanzo?” You asked.

“He was garbanzo bean colored.” 

“You're telling me his little head didn't look like the end of a Q-tip?” 

“Do you always name everything after the first thing it reminds you of?” He asked. 

“Yeah, my first cat was named kitty.” You said. 

You told him about how the little cat would go to your window. You would feed him, and play with him. Eventually your parents found out, and caught him. They took him to the vet, got his shots, and brought him back for you. For so long you just called him kitty so you left it at that.

“That poor cat. His name was probably Bruce or something.” 

“Bruce?” 

“Yeah. cats tend to hang out in little packs so his family probably called him Bruce before he was so wrongly abducted.”

“Abducted?!?! I did not abduct him! He was very happy for your information.”

“Oh yeah, I'm sure Bruce loved his life. Bows, and dresses, and constant unwanted attention.” You threw a fry at him, and he laughed. 

“I was a good pet owner! I didn't dress him up, I just held him a lot.” 

“Uh huh, so happened to him?” He asked. You shook your head then sighed in defeat. 

“He ran away.” You said. He pointed his finger at you, and smiled. 

“AH HA! So kitty wasn't too happy after all.”

“Watch it, Solo.” 

“Man I'm gonna feel bad for our kids.”

Did he just say our? As in you, and him? Having kids? The two of you? You looked at him to ask about it, but noticed he looked a little nervous. He was blushing a bit too. You knew it probably slipped out by accident so you decided to pretend like you didn't hear a thing.

“You know what. I'm not taking this from a guy who hangs out in a spaceship tree house” You said as you continued eating. He gasped dramatically before you both laughed, and talked about other things.

  It was almost unreal how normal everything felt. This was only the 2nd first date you had been on, and it felt like your hundredth. Even your first date with Cal was a bit awkward in the beginning. This felt so natural. Like it was meant to be this way. He started telling you more about his childhood. He told you about a summer him, and Matt spent with Anakin, and Padme. Him, and Anakin spent some days fixing up some old cars. Apparently it was an old hobby of Anakins when he was younger. He taught all the boys everything he could about cars. He told you him, and Padme would hang out in the gardens, and do random things together. They would read, or play board games, maybe even just talk, or listen to music. The way he talked about her gave away that you, and he had something in common. You both loved your grandparents more than your parents.

  He loved Padme the way you loved your grandfather. Padme was Gentle, and patient with him. She spent time with him, and gave him more love than he knew what to do with. Your grandfather did the same with you. He made you feel love when you felt like there was none in the world. He gave you courage even when you felt like there was none in you. He gave you support when your parents could be bothered. He was your Padme, and Padme was Ben's, well, Ben. Soon it was time for the next show. Ben threw out the trash from lunch as you gathered your things. Both of you made your way to the line again. You waited for about 5 minutes when you finally felt like you needed to use the restroom. You told him you would be back, and left. 

 On your way back to the line you passed a small gift shop. Inside they sold balloons that looked like planets. You quickly ran in to look at them. You grabbed Neptune, and took it to the front to pay before running back to the planetarium. Just as you approached it the doors had opened, and people started walking in. you walked in with everyone, and saw Ben had waited for you by the door.

“C'mon kid what took you so long.”

“Don't scold me. I was getting something!” You handed the balloon to him, and he looked at it in awe as you went to your seats. 

“So what other planets did they have?” He asked. 

“All of em. Even Pluto.” 

“Pluto?!?!”He tried to whisper, but not very well since people looked at you guys. 

“Do you even know how to whisper?” 

“Leia, and Han Solo are my parents, and you really ask me that?” You laughed at him, and sat back in your seat. He held the balloon towards you.

“Keep it, I got it for you.” You shoved his hand back gently, and he smiled. He put it between his legs so it wouldn't block peoples view.

“You're a much better girlfriend than Rey. I always got her stuff, but she never got me anything.”

  You felt your face heat up. He just called you his girlfriend. Was it an accident like the kid thing? Or did he mean this one? Just as you opened your mouth to ask him the room darkened as the show started. He smiled, and wiggled a bit in his seat like a toddler. You smiled and looked back at the screen. Your hand was resting on your thigh when you felt something moving on it. You looked down and saw Ben's hand was slowly inching its way towards yours. He stopped right before his fingers touched yours. You tried not to smile He slowly moved his hand over yours, and gently wrapped his fingers around it. Your hand practically disappeared in his giant one. You flipped your hand over, and the two of you intertwined your fingers. He held your hand for the rest of the show.

 The two of you walked out still holding hands. You insisted on seeing the anatomy section of the museum, and he happily obliged. When you got to the exhibit you were oddly excited. The entrance was in the shape of someone's mouth, and Ben smacked one of the top teeth as you walked in like every other teenage boy that was there. You laughed as you looked around at the education posters that lined the small hallway that led to the rest of the exhibit. The first thing that caught your attention was a life size operation game. You watched as Ben tried to take out the organs without losing. He managed to take out 2 things before he finally lost. You, on the other hand, were very steady, and you were able to get most of the items out except 1. 

 Eventually you started to feel a bit tired. Your legs ached from walking, and running all day, and you wanted to go. Ben understood, and asked if you would at least go get dinner with him. Before you left you wanted to see the gift shop. Ben had an idea for a cute little game where the two of you split up to find a souvenir for each other. He walked around for about 3 seconds before he found something, and made his way to the register. You searched for half an hour before you found the perfect little gift. You snatched them up, and walked over to the counter to check out. As the lady rang you up you saw something else that caught your attention on the counter. You grabbed it, and placed it on the counter as well. Once you paid the total you walked out to meet Ben. 

“Hey kid! Took you long enough.” He said as you walked up to him.

“Shut up! I wanted to make sure I got the right thing.” You said as you finally made it next to him. He wrapped an arm around you, and led you to the car as you talked about where to go for dinner. 

 The two of you grabbed something quick, and went to a park. The sun was setting, but it didn't matter seeing as you two wanted to eat in the car. You both watched the sun go down as you ate, and talked about random things. He told you more about the tree house spaceship, which apparently had a name. The Millenium Falcon. Lando had come up with the name, but all the boys loved it so much they agreed on it. He told you about their days hanging out in it. Whether it was hotter than the sun itself, or colder than Neptune. Him, and Matt were always up there. He said they stopped using it as much when they got into middle school. It made you sad thinking of it becoming overgrown through the years. He assured you that he at least still used it, and took care of it. 

“Oh hey our gifts!” He said as he grabbed his bag from the back seat. You did the same, and grabbed the small bag that held his gift. 

“Ok who goes first?” He asked. You opened the bag, and grabbed the two pins you had bought him.

 One pin was a Space Shuttle flying over earth, and the other was an astronaut's helmet with a cowboy hat on. 

“Okay. close your eyes, and hold out your hands.” He followed your instructions. You gently placed them in his palms. 

“Alright you are good to open your eyes.” You said. You watched as he slowly opened his eyes, and looked in his hands. His eyes lit up with joy, and a goofy grin spread across his face. He picked them up, and examined both pins as he laughed. 

“No way, a space cowboy!” He said as he held it up to show you. 

“I feel like you would be a space cowboy, so it's fitting.” 

“Awe man these are so cool. I'm putting these on my backpack when I get home.” He lifted himself up, and put both pins in his back pocket. 

“Ok there's one more thing, I don't know if you will like it or not, but I personally thought it was pretty cool.” His smile got wider as you reached into the bag, and brought the other item out. You handed it to him with the front facing down. He grabbed it gently, and turned it over. He let out a small gasp. 

“Oh shit, I've always wanted one of these.” he ripped open the package, and took out the freeze dried ice cream sandwich. He inspected it closely as the crumbs from it fell onto his lap. He took a bit of the corner and closed his eyes as he took it all in. 

“So? Everything you expected it to be?” He smiled.

“Definitely not, but I like it!” He snapped the small snack in half, and handed you the piece he hasn't bitten.

“It's yours, I got it for you.”

“What's the point of having this experience if I can't share it with my girlfriend?”

 Girlfriend. He used it again. Maybe it wasn't a slip up after all. You grabbed the snack from his hands as he continued eating his half. You bit into yours as you thought. Nerves took over your body as you considered asking him about it. You were going to open your mouth to ask him when something hit your face.

“Hey!” you said as you looked at him.

“Where were you just now?” He asked. 

“Im here,” you picked up the little napkin ball he had thrown.” being assaulted with napkins.”

“Oh yeah, then what was I just saying?” You stared at him for a second as you tried not to laugh or smile.

“See, now c'mon tell me what's on your mind.” He said as he sat against the door a bit. You sighed as you positioned yourself in the car seat to face him.

“That's the second time you’ve said that today.” You told him as you took another bite.

“Called you what?” 

“Your girlfriend.” He tensed up as his smile dropped, and his eyes filled with worry. He clenched his jaw, and cleared his throat before asking.

“Do you…. Not want to be my girlfriend?” There was a hint of nervousness in his voice.

“No! I mean, yes. Well maybe I'm not sure, but I also meant no that's not what my issue is.” he relaxed only a little, but his shoulders were still tense.

“so , uh, what is the, um, issue?” 

“I just didn't think you wanted this to be a serious thing. I thought we were just going to try it out, and see where it goes before making anything official.”

“Is...is that what you wanna do?” He still sounded a bit nervous.

“I think. I would rather us try it out first. You know, go on a few dates. See if there's something here. I don’t wanna jump into this quickly, and end up getting hurt like the first time.” You said looking at him. He bit his lip, and looked around before speaking.

“I told you things would be different this time, and I wasn't lying. I almost lost you to some random guy in Bracca, and I don't want to risk that again. You mean more to me than Rey, or any other girl before. I never want to see you cry, and know I'm the reason behind it again.” 

 Why did that make you want to cry?

“I know that you may not be ready to do this. But whenever you are ready, I will be too. I'll be ready to give you the world, and everything in it. Whether it's a week, or a decade from now. Just know I will ask after every date though.” 

 You laughed as tears welled up in your eyes. Were you being stupid for wanting to wait? You loved him. He loved you. The two of you knew it, but you scared it would be like before. You knew it was best to wait a while before starting something like this. 

“So what were you saying before?” You asked as you wiped your eyes. He smiled.

“My gift absolutely sucks compared to yours, but when I saw them I thought you might like em.”

 He held the bag out to you, and you took it. The first thing you saw when you opened it was something green. When you took it out you realized it was a big T-rex plush. It had little button eyes, and a tab on its little hand that said ‘squeeze me’. You grabbed its little hand, and squeezed it, and listened as it growled, and roared. You smiled as you kept pressing it to listen to all the noises.

“I felt like you were more of a dinosaur kid, than a space kid.”

“I was most definitely a dinosaur kid, good call.” You laughed.

“There's something else in there.” He informed you. 

 You sat the plush in your lap, and looked in the bag. At the bottom was a key chain. You pulled it out, and saw it was a butterfly. More specifically a Blue Morpho butterfly with iridescent blue wings. You grabbed your bag, and dug your keys out to put it on your keys.

“I love them Ben! How could you think this gift wasn't as good as mine?” you asked.

He smiled as he watched you put your keys back in your bag. You squeezed the T-rex's hand again and smiled at the sound it made. 

“Alright I should probably get you home before my mom thinks we ran off together this time.” 

“Good idea. Han’s probably gathering a search party already.” 

  He laughed as he started the car. The park you had chosen wasn't too far from your house so it didn't take long before he pulled into the driveway. You looked into the windows, and saw the lights in the den were still on. Ben stopped the car, and looked at you. 

“So. What weird thing will you name your new friend?” He asked as he squeezed the plushies hand. It roared as you thought about it. 

“You know what. In honor of kitty. I think his name will be Bruce.” The two of you laughed as you thought of your earlier conversation about your poor cats real name. 

“I'm sure Kitty is somewhere proud that you named a toy after him.” 

“Oh shut up!” You threw Bruce at his chest and he caught it as he laughed. 

“Cmon, kid, I'll walk you to the door.” He said as he got out. 

“You don't have to.” You called out to him as you got your bag. He opened your door, and held a hand out to you. 

“Nah, nah, nah. I'm going to, and you can't say anything about it.” You smiled as you took his hand to get out.  

 He held your hand as he walked you to the front door. You two talked about Bruce, and you even jokingly called him your child. Ben laughed at your joke, and agreed that he could be his dad. You felt your face heat up at his words as you approached the door. You grabbed your keys, and unlocked the door, and noticed how your new keychain shined brighter in the light. You unlocked the door, and opened it a bit. 

“So I guess this is goodbye.” Ben said. 

“For now.” You responded as you opened the door a bit wider. 

“Oh thank the stars you are home I was getting worried.” You heard your grandfather say as he walked over. 

“Oh, Hello there, Ben!” He said as Ben came into his view

“Hey Obi-Wan. Sorry I got her home just now, we had a late dinner.” 

“It's not a problem,” He said to you. “Next time just message me you’ll be home a bit later so I  don't wait up for you.” 

“Won't happen again.” You promised as you hugged him. 

“Very well. Now if you don't mind I think I'll be going to bed now.” He said as he shuffled away. You, and Ben wished him goodnight as he walked away. Once he was gone Ben looked down at you. 

“So uh. What are my chances of getting a goodnight kiss?” He asked you with a smug grin. You rolled your eyes as he tried to lean against the door frame, but accidentally slipped off a bit, and he stumbled. You covered your mouth to stop yourself from dying of laughter as you watched his try to recover from his slip up. 

“Smooth move Han.” You teased. He smiled. 

“Alright, you just missed YOUR chance to get a goodnight kiss!” He said. You feigned despair, and dramatically gasped. 

“Oh no, whatever will I do now?” You both laughed at your little jokes, before you looked up at him. 

 You stood up on your tiptoes, and kissed his lips. This one was different from the ones you had shared before. This was gentle, and loving. Even though it wasn't as fiery as all the other, you still felt that same passion behind it. He smiled down at you before you pulled away from him. You stepped into the house, and put your stuff down. 

“Goodnight, kid.” He said as he walked away. 

“Night Ben.” You watched as he walked to his car. As dumb as it sounds, you wanted to make sure he got in safe. He unlocked the door, and put one foot in before he looked back at you. 

“One last question, Kenobi.” He called out. 

“Shoot.” You called back out to him. 

“Will you be my girlfriend?” He asked with a smile. You rolled your eyes again, and smiled.

“Better luck next time, space cowboy.” 

 You closed the front door, and jumped up and down in happiness.

[dragonastra]

1-100 on the DnD questions, for Deah >:3

Wow you're sure as hell fishing to kill me huh xD

I'll answer these under a read more cuz FUCK. I'll also try to keep it spoiler free -- I may mention stuff that hasn't come up in game but it would be stuff that might not ever come up explicitly anyway. Everything else has either been said or can be gleaned.

If your character wasn’t an adventurer, what livelihood would they lead Probably what she had been doing -- being a pirate

Who in the party would your character trust the most with their life Probably Maddie and/or Gael. Maddie is a divine soul sorcerer and probably the one Deah is closest to. Gael is our barbarian/paladin who is probably the emotional backbone of the group? He is very earnest and genuine, and also hits like a brick house.

What are your character’s core moral beliefs? [Brushes off notes I made like a year ago] Promises must be kept, and debts one day fulfilled. Clean up the messes you made. Family is more important than self. Survival means not letting the past define you. (Not all morals but those are her ideals)

What relationship does your character have with their parents and siblings? She has a twin brother, whom she would die for. Their relationship used to be solid, but theyve currently broken apart somewhat due to lies and building tension, and the brother needing to go his own way. She is still very broken up about it. Her parents are both dead, and she has not spoken of much closeness there, but describes them as "they tried their best." Her pirate captain was basically a surrogate father for her teenage years and onward until their separation, and she... misses him.

Does your character have any biases for or against certain races? Not really. She probably doesnt trust ratfolk based on where she grew up, but beyond that? If you're good, you're good.

What is your character’s opinion on nobility? On authority? (: fuck em. She is... shall we say... less inclined to help rich people.

Describe your character’s current appearance: clothes, armor, scars they’ve picked up along the journey, etc. She's grown out her undercut so she has an asymmetrical style, one side of her head buzzed. She is still wearing her bright red pirate coat, but now wears a dark brown vest with purple accents underneath, as well as a long black sleeve to cover magical scars she received when she accepted a warlock pact with the hunter god. Also covering her scars is a gauntlet made by Maddie, so that they can't be detected by Detect Good and Evil and such.

What location encountered in the campaign has your character felt the most “at home” in, or just generally liked the most? Sometimes she still thinks about that nap she had on the beach at a random island they had stopped at to restock on food.

What deity, if any, does your character worship? What’s their opinion on other people’s worship? As i mentioned, she has a pact with the hunter god, Erastil. She does not worship him. In fact, she rather doesnt like gods much. She doesnt really understand other worshippers, but if they're not hurting anyone with it she doesn't really care. Their worship doesnt affect her.

If your character had time to pick up any artisan’s tools, game set, instrument, etc., what would it be? Let's get this binch some navigator's tools finally!

Describe your character’s current relationship with the player character sitting to your right. We are entirely online so we don't really have table seating. Based on the order of our nicknames in discord though, that would be... Haru, our new kitsune Oracle who joined us to fill a gap while some other players went on hiatus. Deah is uncertain about him, and she is generally pretty wary about strangers in her party, but he is useful. Their relationship is not deep by any means tbh.

What is your character’s current goal, summed up in one sentence? Stop the lord of the sea, and stop Aleksander.

Does your character ever want to “settle down” with a spouse, children, house, etc.? ;) you'll have to ask her

Has your character ever been in love? Before the campaign, certainly not. She's hella ace, and doesn't open up easily, so she's got some confusing feelings right now for Maddie ;)

What battle in the campaign has been most memorable to your character The battle against Tokt, since this was the battle that she was able to help save a person from being possessed by a demon -- something she figured out beforehand and convinced her team about.

If your character wasn’t whatever class they are, what would they be instead? I mean... probably a fighter???? Or maybe a full warlock, if she was desperate enough.

What is your character’s favorite season? Probably the fall? Sailing is usually good during that time, plus the harvest is coming in on land, so there's a lot of fresh food.

What would your character’s Zodiac sign be, following stereotypical astrology? She would be an Aries based on her birthday! Our homebrew world just uses "Season Day" as time markers, with 90 days each season. She was born on Spring 12, which would translate to the first week of April.

Where in the world does your character most want to visit? She's been all over as an adventurer and a sailor. The place she'd like to visit the most is one she doesn't know about -- somewhere important to her old captain.

What is the biggest mistake your character has ever made? Deah would maybe even say joining the pirates. It was the happiest she'd ever been, but it led her brother to a path he regrets and feels pain over, and she feels a... bit guilty about that.

Does your character have any noticeable scars? If so, what are their stories? The only scars she has are from her pact to Erastil. She hides them, though. She's not ashamed of them, but she likes to keep them to herself... she's private like that.

What animal best represents your character? I always liken her to a hawk, especially a sea hawk. In some ways she’s like a cobra or a porcupine too -- kind of hard to get close to!

If your character could go back in time and change one thing about their life, what would it be? 😬

Which other player character does your character find themselves having the most in common with? I don't know about most in common, really, but she gets along easiest with Ro, our halfling. Their banter is 👌🏻👌🏻👌🏻. Honestly though? She probably has the most in common with Mercy, our tiefling fighter/paladin.

Does your character regret any particular choice the party has made? She probably regrets the party not staying behind in a certain town after a powerful enemy escaped. They thought the immediate threat had been dealt with and that another team from their guild could keep watch over the town, but then that team got surprised by an undead and two of them died. She feels at least partially responsible for that.

What would your character say their best trait would be? Her ability to perceive and track things. She has the observant feat plus the invocation that lets her see through even magical darkness!

What is your character’s greatest fear? Deep, irrational? Being abandoned.

What is currently motivating your character to stay with the party? No where else to go, really. Like, sure, she likes at least most of them and they've been through a lot!!! And she DOES you know, feel like this is a stable job, and she does feel good helping people. But... she really does have no where else to go. :(

What are your character’s hobbies and interests outside of their class? She does enjoy reading, though she's a little slow. Her favorite books are detective/mystery novels! She also sometimes likes to practice magic tricks (like... sleight of hand stuff). And technically this isnt outside of her class, but she really does enjoy training. Let's her burn off steam.

What would most people think when they first see your character? Pretty little waif, but that resting bitch face looks like she will cut me of I even say hello (this is by design).

What stereotypical group role does your character play in the party? (The Mom, the Mess, the Comic Relief, etc. Optionally: What role would your character play in the “Five Man Band” structure?) [Googles five man band] probably Lancer. Initially she wanted to be the Leader type but with the group dynamics and her own insecurities and issues, that isnt really truly possible for her. But she still tries to lead...

What is your character the most insecure about? :)

What person does your character admire most? Her old ship captain. Her DEAD ship captain :(

What does your character admire and dislike the most about the player character sitting to your left? She admires maddie's strength and kindness (and to a degree, innocence). Maddie's cooking skills. Maddie's family. She dislikes how nervous/anxious and possibly depressed Maddie can get :c

Why is your character’s lowest stat their lowest (the in-character reason, not “because there’s no reason for a wizard to have 16 strength, duh”)? Her lowest stat is strength, and her second lowest is constitution. This is because she grew up poor, and was at times starving and definitely malnourished. Once she was om the pirate ship, she was regularly fed though.

What would be your character’s theme song/favorite band/favorite genre of music? I've been saying if she was in modern time, her favorite band would be Florence and the Machine. There's just something about the Florence sound that speaks to her. She'd definitely be into that kind of music, plus some heavier stuff leaning more towards metal or symphonic metal...

What stereotypical role would your character play in a high school AU/if they attended a normal high school? (Nerd, jock, bully, goth, etc.) She's got the soul of a goth but the hobbies of a jock (in our team's college AU she's totally on the fencing and sailing teams). When I've drawn her in modern day she is usually wearing athleisure (capris leggings, loose tank top, sports bra, e.g.) but also it's mostly dark colors. She's Joth.

What treasure/item/artifact that your character has collected during the adventure is the most important to them? Toby :) just kidding, the pseudodragon isn't an item!!! Specifically collected during the adventure, probably her force blade. Her brother had found it, but had given it to her, near the beginning of the adventure.

Is there any particular weapon, item, etc. that your character longs to find? She's not really looking out for items, no.

Where does your character feel the most at home? On the beach, on the ship. Specific locations to call home, she does finally feel like she has a stable place to call home in the patty's estate.

Does your character care about how they’re perceived by others? How do they change themselves to fit in with other people? She's worn disguises and fake names before, but that's mostly to protect herself during her pirate years. She doesn't care a whole lot, but she does want to appear somewhat intimidating so that unsavoury people won't approach her LMAO. But she also wants to be seen as nice by children and poor folk, so she does soften a bit when they're around.

What does your character think is the true meaning of life? Happiness. Safety. Survival. Family/community.

What is your character’s scent? (Bonus points for a description that sounds like it could be from a bad [or awesome] fanfic.) She's always got a slight scent of salt on her, reminding you just a bit of the sea. For herself, she prefers to just smell... clean, so there's a fresher floral scent lingering...

Does your character think more with their heart or their brain? She tries to think more with her brain but sometimes the bottled up emotions get to be a bit much.

What is your character’s most recent or frequent nightmare? BEING. ABANDONED.

What opinion does your character have on [CERTAIN ESTABLISHED GROUPS/AUTHORITIES IN THE GAME WORLD]? (Dragonmarked Houses, royal crown, etc.) She hates (most) rich people and used to be a pirate, so you can kind of figure it out.

How did your character spend their childhood? Where did they grow up/who were their childhood friends? :(

What aspect of your character’s future are they most curious about? (If they could know one thing about the future, what would it be?) I dunno man she is just taking things one step at a time.

What colors are associated with your character? Red is her primary color. She also uses blacks/dark grays and a light purple as an accent. She's using more brown now tho to represent her connection to the hunter god.

Who in the party would your character prioritize rescuing, in dire circumstances? Maddie always. Then Ro. Then Gael. Haru would probably be up there because he is squishy and also mostly blind.

Is your character the most swayed by ethos, pathos, or logos? A mix of pathos and logos is most effective on Deah. Logos probably most of all, but there are pathos buttons that hold away above all that... if you know which buttons to press.

If your character was granted a single use of Wish, what would they use it for? Currently? To bring back her pirate captain. She knows its selfish but...

What is your character’s favorite spell? If they don’t use spells: what is their favorite personal weapon/combat maneuver/skill/etc.? Her favorite spell is stab with rapier.

How does your character feel about keeping secrets from the rest of the party? She keeps secrets pretty regularly! Basically if the party needs to know, then the secret should be shared. But if it doesnt really affect the group or something important, and the person doesnt want to share, then go ahead and keep the secret.

What type of creature in the world is your character the most intrigued by? Dragons probably, at this point. Definitely an influence by me the player, haha, but it's buoyed by an early meeting with a particular dragon that sparked her interest.

When they were a child, what did your character want to be, or think they were going to be, when they grew up?  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ she didnt have life plans as a kid. She just wanted her and her brother to live.

The player character to your left admits that they’re passionately in love with your character. How would your character respond? That's already happened LMAO. Deah didnt know how to react so her brain blur screened and she ran away from the situation for a bit.

If somebody (an NPC, someone from their backstory, etc.) your character trusts/loves asked your character to do something against the party’s best interest, who would they side with? If it only involved herself, Deah would probably go do it. But if it was a huge net loss for the group, she wouldn't, if that makes sense? It's hard to make sweeping statements like that.

Does your character value their own best interest more than the party’s? She values her own interest for sure, but she would prioritize the party's if one meant dunking on the other. She knows what it's like to sail with a tight knit crew; sometimes you sacrifice to make the group as a whole better/happier.

What decision would the party have to make in order for your character to consider splitting off from the group? Oh gosh, uh.... I mean, if they decide to help her enemies (not likely to happen, there are a couple shared ones). If they don't let her do something she REALLY wants... I can't really think of anything specific.

How does your character imagine the way they will die? Tragically. 

What is your character’s greatest achievement? Taming her pseudodragon ;w;

Is your character willing to risk the well-being of others in order to achieve their goal? Hmm... not to a certain degree. Eh, probably not. She only really wants to risk herself, not others. Risking others doesn't give them the choice.

What is your character’s opinion on killing others? She does it all the time!! But if they're defenseless or not fighting back, she won't.

What is your character’s favorite food? Beverage? She really loves fresh baked bread!! As for beverage, uh.... I guess she'd like water with like, something fruity mixed in???

How generous is your character? Especially to those they don’t know? To the poor and to kids? Very. Also, recently, she gave all of the money she got from a quest to a townsperson to help them rebuild their city a bit (secretly of course. Not even her team knows she did that, though maybe some of them suspect hahaha)

What is your character the most envious about, regarding anyone in the party? Once again... probably most envious of Maddie!! She comes up a lot doesn't she ;P

The player character to your left and the player character to your right are both telling your character two different versions of the truth. Who does your character believe? Maddie vs Haru? Shed probably lean towards Maddie :p

What is your character’s sexuality/relationship with sex? I've described Deah as Panromantic Asexual. She is rather sex averse and has difficulty pinpointing romantic feelings as well, being rather prickly at times.

What is your character’s biggest pet peeve? When people try to dig into something she doesn't want to share at the moment.

Describe how your character feels about the party’s current situation/objective/etc. The current objective/situation involves her backstory, so you'll see soon ;)

Who in the party would your character trust the most to keep an important secret? Maddie of course! She trusts Gael, but not with secrets. Similarly, she trusts Mercy to hold an oath to the best of her ability, but not if a secret comes up -- same with Rudi. Ro does what she wants LMAO and she isnt telling Haru anything personal atm.

If your character knew that they were going to die in a month, how would they spend the rest of their life? I dont want to think about that question and neither does Deah

What makes your character feel safe? Having her weapons. Having her pact/her pact scars.

If your character had the chance to rename the party/give the party a name, no questions asked, what would it be? Nah, she likes Fortune's Blades

What memory does your character want to forget the most? Cal leaving. It's probably her most painful memory.

If your character had to multiclass into a class they currently aren’t the next time they level up, what would it be and what reason would they have for doing so? She's already multi classed and her reasons for becoming a warlock are kind of muddied. She explained them initially but maaaaybe wasn't 100% truthful. If she had to pick a third, probably uh.... fighter?????

What television/book/video game/etc. character would your character be best friends with? (Or: what media character is your character the most influenced by/similar to?) I would HOPE she would be friends with Elizabeth Swan (: but idk lol

What unusual talents does your character possess? Sharp senses and magic tricks.

How does your character feel about receiving/giving orders? Are they more of a leader, or a follower? It's rather situational. She tries to be a leader type, but she also realizes she's not at the top of the leader chain (and, with her party, at times different people take the head, so it's almost more consult-y like).

What does your character’s name represent to them? (Or: why as a player did you choose your character’s name?) The player of Cal, her brother, chose his name first from a generator. I like to construct my names sometimes from different name elements, so I made hers to match the sound of her twin's (that is, make it sound like it came from the same language). Her name is constructed of "Feld-" (field) and "-Deah" (dye) so her first name translates roughly to "field of dye." Her original last name is Shearwater, which is a real life sea bird but also follows the traditional elven naming convention (their dad was an elf). She never felt much of an attachment to her last name. She recently changed her last name to Blackheart, which was the moniker of her captain.

Is your character more of an introvert, or an extrovert? Introvert for sure

How far is your character willing to go to pursue the “greater good”? Do they believe in a greater good at all? She would go as far as she needs to, but would never force others to make that same decision.

What does your character want to be remembered by? At one point she thought she would eventually be a famous pirate captain. But mostly I think she just wants to be remembered by those who love her and by those she helped...

What would be your character’s major in college? Fuck, uh... I had discussed this before.... I think I made her pre-law??? Math major???

Does your character consider themselves a hero, villain, or something else? Something else. She doesn't really care about that, she's just Being.

What major arcana tarot card best represents your character? I believe last it was discussed I had picked the Chariot for her.

Where does your character see themselves in 20 years? If not dead from adventuring, then settled somewhere nice, hopefully...

What is your character’s relationship with magic? Are they scared of it, wish to know more about it, indifferent to it? For a long time she was the Sokka of the group, the only non-magic user. Then she got her pact. She's still kind of awkward about it, and at times really doesn't like magic, but she sees it as a tool. A means to an end.

Who is your character’s biggest rival? Rival?????? I guess Morrigan tbh??? Cuz a rival isn't an enemy, and she had a thing going with Morrigan (her player is on hiatus tho). In some ways she rivals Mercy too. A dance of similarities and differences.

What is your character’s guiltiest pleasure? Fine, beautiful dresses. She doesn't own any, because it's a waste of money, but.... she wants them. Secretly.

What does your character hope for the afterlife? Peace and rest.

Who in the party does your character trust the least? Haru, currently, simply by virtue of being new.

What is your character’s biggest flaw? BIGGEST flaw???? Uhhhmmm..... Her secrecy probably. Her tendency to run away from really big, painful problems, to bottle up her emotions around that until everything just gets worse.

How did your character learn the languages that they speak? Common, prucrician and Elvish she learned just growing up. Deep, she just... mysteriously knows. Doesn't know why she can speak it. Draconic she learned at first from Rudi, and then from a dragonborn NPC to finish her lessons during a timeskip.

What is your character’s favorite school of magic/type of weaponry? Rapier

What is most important to your character: health, wealth, or happiness? Why must she choose? Wealth, because that brings health and happiness in her eyes. (Because money buys food and when you have food.....)

What advice would your character give to a younger version of themselves? I know it's hard, but open up more. You don't have to keep it to yourself to protect others. Your brother can be your friend as well... you don't have to just keep holding yourself back for your friends and family.

Are there any social or political issues your character feels strongly about? She doesn't feel super strongly about politics, having been a pirate. She feels strongly about protecting children and poor though, as I've mentioned.

What, currently, is your character the most curious about? The afterlife. Erastil, but specifically just that one god. Her ship captain.

[thethespacecoyote]

A little late, but here’s Day 4 for @kyluxromanceweek with “Secret Crush.” More office AUs, because why not. 

Hux can’t help but scowl when he returns to his cubicle, fresh cup of coffee in hand, to find a little wrapped box sitting just in front of his keyboard.

He narrows his eyes at it, as if his stare could wither the sparkly red bow sitting innocently atop the shiny golden paper. It’s not the first strange gift he’s received in the past few weeks, and honestly? They’re starting to wear on his nerves.

He growls as he sets his steaming coffee cup on the desk and picks up the box, looking down his nose at it as he turns it over in his hands. Of course there’s no tag. Whoever is doing this clearly doesn’t want to be found out.

Hux shakes the gift, considering just dumping it in the trash and forgetting about it altogether, but instead he pulls at the red bow and slips it off before tearing into the paper. Beneath he finds a silky red box, a name Hux recognizes from the high-end grocery store he occasionally frequents scrawled in gold on top. He pries open the lid and wrinkles his nose at the fancy chocolates nestled inside—the kind of heavy, indulgent sweets that Hux hardly partook in. He scowls and stuffs them into his laptop bag, trying to put the gift far from his mind so he could get the afternoon’s work done.

Whoever thought it funny to play such a joke wasn’t going to get a rise out of Hux that easily.

The following day Hux returns from a trip to the bathroom to find a single rose, lovingly wrapped in red ribbon, siting in his mesh pencil holder. Hux frowns, plucking the rose out and peering around the wall of his cubicle to where Phasma sits at her desk, phone cradled against her shoulder. She shoots Hux a quizzical look, signing off from the call and setting it back in its cradle.

“What is it?”

“Did you see who left this?” He brandishes the rose at her, eyebrows furrowed. She glances at the rose for a moment, before smirking.

“You got an admirer?”

“Of course not,” Hux hisses, shaking the stupid flower. “Someone is obviously trying to make a joke out of me. Make me look like some kind of lovesick fool.”

Phasma laughs, turning around in her chair to face him.

“You know, most people would be happy to get free gifts, even if it was from a stranger.” She shrugged her shoulders. “Lighten up a little.”

Hux scowls, folding his arms.

“I’ll ‘lighten up’ as soon as I figure out who is doing this. I want you to keep your eyes and ears open next time I leave my desk, see if whoever they are shows themselves.”

“Yes sir,” Phasma taunts as he storms back to his cubicle, stuffing the rose in one of his drawers before getting back to work. He gets up to grab coffee , but to his surprise and slight disappointment no new gifts grace his desk, and Phasma tells him she didn’t notice anything.  

When Hux comes to work early the next morning, there’s a massive bouquet of roses sitting daringly in his chair.

The gifts only grow more extravagant as the days go on. A little gift bag filled with delicate macarons and rolls of fruit pastilles. More flowers, this time a striking bunch of black lilies. A half-sized bottle of Prosecco. A small porcelain figure of a cat—which, despite himself, Hux actually likes, and sits on the little shelf above his computer as soon as he unwraps it.

And still he’s been unable to figure out who’s responsible, or why they’re doing it.

He’s sure it must be a prank, but there’s no one in the office he believes would go to such lengths. These kind of gifts are expensive, nothing even the most dedicated would throw away on some silly joke.

Then why?

Periodically he considers Phasma’s suggestion, that he has a true admirer—but he isn’t exactly well-liked among his coworkers. He’s more than competent in his work but rather cold when it comes to socializing, not interested in gossip or debate with the rest of the office. Hux is the type to keep his personal life far removed from his professional life, disinterested in indulging his colleagues’ incessant need for small-talk.

He can’t imagine any of them wanting to become—romantically involved with him.

So maybe it really is a joke at his expense. Perhaps the entire office pooled their funds together, just to lead Hux on, make him believe anyone could ever be interested in him. Maybe they were just waiting for him to fall for it, so they could

Honestly, Hux can’t wait for the weekend, where he might be free of all this nonsense for two blissful days. He checks his watch as he returns from his lunch break, hoping the next few hours will fly by, so he can spend his time in the solitude of his apartment with his cat and favorite books.

But as Hux approaches his cubicle he stops dead in his tracks, lips parting in surprise at what he sees—not another bouquet of roses nor box of chocolates, but a besuited man with long, dark hair barely tamed back against his head.

Hux recognizes him instantly.

Ren, one of the upper managers that Hux rarely even saw in his department, though he certainly heard plenty of rumors about the man. He apparently came from a wealthy family, and Hux has heard grumblings that may have influenced his appointment. From the few times Hux has encountered him, he seems a touch too changeable for such a position, but otherwise he’d never given the man much thought.

Until now, when he notices the wrapped box in Ren’s hand, topped with the same kind of red ribbon as all the other gifts Hux has received.

“You’re kidding,” is the first thing to come out of Hux’s mouth, in a wholly unprofessional manner but he can’t hold back. He stares at the gift in Ren’s hands, then up to the man’s face, feeling a conflict of emotions roil in his stomach at the amused expression he finds there.

“Nope. Just really good at sneaking around.” Ren smirks, looking quite satisfied with himself. Hux frowns, heart fluttering even as his mind reels in denial.

“I thought this was all a joke…it’s not a joke, is it?” He asks, taking a step back. Ren’s face falls slightly, frowning.

“No? Why would you think it was a joke?” He fidgets with the gift, confident posture taking a slight hit. “Did you not like the things I got you?”

“I—that’s not—that’s beside the point,” Hux stammers, regretting the flush he can feel crawling to his cheeks. “But I didn’t realize anyone here would be…serious about me. Much less a junior manager.”

He’d gone through a list of suspects in his head several times and had at least considered Ren, but quickly dismissed the possibility. Hux can’t wrap his head around the fact that Ren was responsible for this all along—but perhaps he’d been just that good at concealing his feelings. Biding his time, plying Hux with little gifts and presents until he felt confident enough to confront him.

It’s a little endearing—which is not a word he ever thought he’d ever ascribe to someone like Ren.

“I’m serious. Very serious.” Hux takes the wrapped box as Ren holds it out to him. His heart beats a little quickly as he pulls at the bow, taking the little lid off. His eyes widen at what he sees underneath, lips parting in surprise.

Nestled in a bed of white silk are a pair of golden cufflinks, dotted in the center with a dark red stone. Truthfully they’re a little too gaudy for Hux’s taste but he’s still bewildered by the gesture.

Alright. It’s definitely not a joke.

Ren moves in closer, and as Hux inhales sharply he can detect the strong scent of his cologne.

“Wear them tonight?”

“Tonight?” Hux looks up, raising his eyebrow. “What’s tonight?”

“A date. Well, hopefully.” Ren shrugs, closing Hux’s hand over the box. “If you’ll indulge me.”

Hux balks, eyes widening at his audacity. His first instinct is to say no, remembering his plans of solitude and relaxation for the weekend, but—

—It has been quite awhile since Hux has been on a proper date, and part of him feels curiosity at just what further sort of pampering Ren has in store for him. After a moment’s hesitation he composes himself with a nod.

“I don’t have a car. You’ll have to pick me up.” Despite himself, Hux feels his heartbeat pick up in his chest. The grin returns to Ren’s face, looking excited as a schoolboy with a crush.

“Deal. See you tonight, Armitage.” And with an affectionate pat to the hand he turns away and walks away, leaving Hux to ponder over what exactly he’s gotten himself into this evening.

[dragonwitch77]

Death’s Flower ch 2

“Stupid kid. Stupid gods.” Snatcher grumbled, stomping down the seamlessly endless steps that descended down to his realm. A realm that only housed beings that had left the mortal world for good, where there is nowhere else to go when their life came to an end. A domain that had many names.

The Underworld. The Realm of the Death. The Underground. The Forsaken Place. The Domain of the Snatcher.

Pretty much those names were enough to fill in the mortals and gods alike of what was down there. Being the God of Death, souls of mortals were sent to his domain to be dealt with after their parting from the living world. It was his sole duty alone to do this task, whether he liked it or not.

And he didn’t mind it one bit.

In fact he liked that he was the God of Death. If it meant that others feared him and left him alone, then he didn’t mind reaping a couple hundred souls each day. It was fun to see others squirm in his presence, fearing when he might snap and attack them or prank them out of the blue. He may be the God of Death, but he had to have some fun once in a while.

He took in the site of his world as he reached the final step, standing on it as his eyes gazed over the world he ruled. Some would say that his domain was a dark place that didn’t even have a speck of light in it, but he could prove them wrong once they saw what a wonder his world was. It was like a kingdom of darkness, the only light coming from the pools filled with souls he had yet to judge, varying from bluish greens to deep purples and sky blue. As long as it wasn’t too colorful, his world was perfect.

“Boss! Boss!”

Almost perfect.

“What is it?” Snatcher sighed, stepping off the final step, letting the earth return to its natural state as it closed up behind him for another year before he could leave again.

His minion, one of many identical beings that swore their service to him, fell to the ground in front of him in a clumsy manor. Picking themselves up, they stood tall, or as tall as their pudgy small round body could only reach the height just half way to his knee. “Boss! Thank the Sisters you’re back! We just got a new batch of souls! It seems like a bunch a them had drowned.”

Snatcher rolled his eyes, sighing heavily. “That’s the third time this month. Honestly, how many idiotic mortals are going to die before they realize that fishing out in a storm is NOT a good idea?!” He walked past the minion, grumbling to himself as he went deep into his domain. “What’s the status on our current pools?”

“W-well, we’ve managed to sort out all the young and old into the pools they should go in. Few have tried to escape.” The minion followed behind him, listing off the things that had happened while the deathly ruler was gone. “The dogs were getting restless after you left so we set them lose on some damned souls to keep them occupied. A child recently died of an illness. Someone was stabbed to death. Moonjumper is here. And we still—OOF!”

The minion fell backwards, looking up at the long black hair of their master.

“I’m sorry.” The minion coward as Snatcher slowly turned around, his eyes illuminating in the darkness, staring down the minion. “Did I hear that right? Did you just say, Moon. Jumper. Is here?!” A deep growl emanated within Snatcher’s throat as his cape began dancing with power.

“I-I-I-I-I’M SORRY! We tried to send him away but he wouldn’t listen!” The minion shook with fear as the dark serge of Snatcher’s power radiated. “He insisted that he needed to see you urgently, but you weren’t here!”

“WHERE IS HE?!”

“AT THE TEMPLE! HE’S IN THE TEMPLE!” The minion openly wept as Snatcher growled with rage, running towards his home.

)*(

The home of the God of Death was, as the other gods described it, not as fancy or well lavished as all the other homes of the other gods and goddesses. It wasn’t made out of white stone marble, but black cracking earth and vines with sharp thorns that held it together. It was just as big as any home fit for a god, maybe even bigger than the rest of them, but was not very appealing to look at with crumbling pillars, broken floors, skeletons of the many deceased used for decorations and furniture, and bodies of past intruders hung on the ceiling to show as an example.

But while the other gods and goddesses would find the thought of going to such place disturbing if not revolting, there was in fact one god who did not mind Snatcher’s strange taste of design.

And the only god to get on his nerves.

“MOONJUMPERRRRR!” Snatcher screamed as he burst open the doors of his home, forgetting to restrain himself as his power tore the rotten wood off their hinges and clatter to the ground in pieces.

“Ah! So he finally arrives! Though I can see he’s quite angry as a beehive!”

Snatcher growled as he spotted the god sitting in his favorite chair with a bowl of grapes in his hand. “What are you doing here you pathetic excuse of a god?! You aren’t allowed in the Underworld without permission from me!”

The god merely grinned, plucking a grape and popping it in his mouth. “Permission from you? Oh how silly but true. While indeed most do, I however can pop in out of the blue.”

Snatcher stormed his way up to Moonjumper, slamming his claws into the seat’s armrests and growled dangerously. “I REALLY insist that you stop with your ridiculous habit of rhymes you—”

“Temper temper! There’s no need of this distemper!” Moonjumper rose from the seat, shoving the bowl in Snatcher’s hands. “I only came for a visit! Now that’s not such a crime, is it?”

The god giggled, going around Snatcher as he threw the bowl filled with fruit away. Most would say that the two were look similar to one another. But while their faces did seem to mirror each other, that is where the similarity ended. While Snatcher was thin, bony, pale skinned, golden eyes, had wild long hair that reached to the floor, covered in darkness and wore pants, Moonjumper was a class of his own with his short pure white hair, blue skin, bright red colored clothing with chains wrapped around his torso and neck, wild red eyes, and scars covering his face.

And majorly legless. Everyone could spot the lack of legs from miles away. And it was no secret to how he lost them in the first place.

“You little pest! How many times do I have to beat it in you that I do not want you here?! You have your own domain! Go use that instead of here!”

“I do not wish to be this pestering! I only dropped by to see what your mind is festering.” Moonjumper grinned, floated around Snatcher. “You seemed quite tense, I should know. Tell me, what’s bothering you so?”

“I don’t need to tell the likes of you!” Snatcher shoved past Moonjumper. “I know your tricks God of Corpses! Don’t think for a second that I won’t know what you’re up to!”

“But that is not true! I really came to see you!” Moonjumper followed him, keeping a distance between them in case the Death God decided to get a little… slashy. “Say all you want with your skilled tongue of lies, I can see it in your sad eyes.”

“Stop following me.” Snatcher growled. “I’ve already got enough to deal with, and your visit is not helping.”

“Indeed all this talking isn’t much help. Shouldn’t you be searching for the thieving little whelp?”

Snatcher froze in his tracks. He slowly looked over his shoulder, glaring at the other god behind him. “How… did you know something was stolen from me?”

Moonjumper clicked his tongue, waging his finger at Snatcher. “Oh silly Snatcher, can’t you see? There’s a connection between you and me. Though knowledge and memories we do not share, you tend to let you emotions go wild without care. Though it was only just very brisk, I could feel that the balance of the world is at great risk.” He grabbed to cloak that Snatcher never took off, pulling it up so that the tear was visible for both of them to see.

“For such a precious item that you deeply tend with care, seems that someone defiled it with a horrible tear.”

Snatcher swatted Moonjumper’s hands away, tugging the cloak close to him.

“This act is quite shameful, but who is very blameful? Mortal or god? This act has got me quite awed! For stealing a piece of the cloak that belongs to none other than you Snatcher, must be feeling deep satisfactory and rapture.”

“If it were a mere mortal that stole from me, they would die instantly when they touch the piece even by a little.” Snatcher glared at the tear. “No mortal can do such a task and get away with this without consequences. Even with help from another god, the task is impossible.”

“Ah! But to have a piece taken under your nose and gone! It seems that impossible was in fact improbable along.”

Snatcher shot a dirty look at Moonjumper. “… I don’t have time to deal with you. I have work that needs my attendance.” With that he stormed off, leaving Moonjumper to giggle madly at nothing.

)*(

“Thank you for coming Caitlin. I know this was sudden with what happened earlier today and with your help with the guests.”

“It’s no trouble! I was happy to help! Plus, I hadn’t had the chance to use my whip on someone for a long time now so I felt it was necessary for some practice.” Caitlin grinned, patting her trusted whip hooked on her belt. “Besides, I wanted to see the little cutie again~! I just can’t get enough of his tiny little fingers~!” The goddess purred, making Zaman laugh happily.

“Yes. Lyvia has certainly made a cute… child…”

“… Is something the matter?” Caitlin asked, noticing the sad look in Zaman’s three eyes.

“It’s nothing old friend. Just… Lyvia never showed any deep desire for anything other than looks before. I knew she had a soft spot for children, but… to go this far to make one. Without a partner no doubt. I… I honestly don’t know how to feel! I would never allow her to sleep with any man of course! She’s still too… too arrogant I fear. I feel like she only did it for attention and has no real desire to care for her daughter.”

“Zaman, old friend, do not worry!” Caitlin took Zaman’s hand between hers, grasping it tightly. “Your daughter is taking a big step. Motherhood is rewarding and learning. She will learn to be less immodest as she cares for her new child and learn to take her responsibility well. She now has someone who will depend on her and rely on her to take care of them. I’ve seen plenty of new mothers in my time and she’s no different.”

“But what if she strays from her duty as a mother? Children need constant care after all. I would know this well when Lyvia was but a small child herself and I had to raise her on my own.”

“Ah, but that is where you are wrong dear friend. You were not alone! You had friends who were willing to help. And now, your daughter has friends that are willing to help her raise her child when she is in need of that help.” She gave her friend’s hand a squeeze.

Zaman sighed, shaking his head with a smile. “You… are a very wise old friend. And very right. I’m still worried about her, but I will give her a chance at being a mother.” His smile grew wide as his three eyes gleamed with a spark of giddiness in them. “And it will be a joy to be a grandfather. After all, someone needs to spoil my grandchild!”

“Oh you!” Caitlin slapped his arm in good fun as the God of Time roared with laughter.

“Father? Caitlin? Can you come to the garden please?” Lyvia’s voice called out from the garden, catching both of the gods attention. They shared a look before heading over to the garden.

The garden was a beautiful place, filled with flowers and fruits, with decorations that wild the imagination of any mortal, and small animals that played in the trees and sang lovely songs gifted by the goddess herself. Lyvia was seated by the edge of one of the many lakes in the garden, watching the colorful fish swim about.

“Lyvia? Is something the matter child?” Zaman asked, approaching her quietly as her child was sleeping in her arms.

Lyvia continued to stare at the fish swimming in the water before slowly turning her gaze to the moon. “… Father? How, high are the walls surrounding the garden?”

Zaman, taken by surprise by the question, shared a glance with his old friend. “Well, very high my child. Why do you ask?”

Lyvia looked away from the fish, fixing her eyes on her father. “Is it not possible to make them higher? I… would like them to be taller.”

“Now why in the world would you want that? The walls surrounding the garden are very high already.” Caitlin questioned, one of her ears tilting down in confusion.

“I know they are high as they are now Caitlin. And you are right to question my sudden request.” Lyvia stood up slowly so not to disturb her child’s rest. “But, please understand. It’s for my child’s safety.”

“The walls are tall enough for you not to worry for her safety my daughter. I made them myself and with the finest builders! Why has this worry come upon you?”

“…”

“… It’s… because of him, isn’t it?” Caitlin’s ear flattened against her head, her tail dipping down low to the ground.

Zaman sighed. “Lyvia—”

“Please father! After what happened today, I’m worried for her safety! Not fearing the God of Death is one thing, but to laugh in his face is another! Have you ever met someone who has laughed in the face, the actual face, of death himself?”

Zaman’s mouth hung open, yet no words came out. “… well… no. I can not tell you who has done such a thing.”

“Exactly! You both have told me what he is like. He will not take this lightly! What if he tries to do harm to my child? Or worse, kill her?”

“Now now! There’s no need to worry about that!” Zaman placed his hands on Lyvia’s shoulders. “Snatcher has used his one day of walking on the surface of the living. And he may be the God of Death, but he’s never taken a life of a god before!”

“But… but what about the Dark Days?”

The two older gods cringed, looking away from Lyvia.

“… Snatcher… does tend to hold a bit of a grudge against others.” Caitlin spoke quietly, her tail swishing to and fro. “I’ve seen firsthand of what he can do when he’s pushed far enough. He can turn things rather ugly real quick.”

Zaman sighed, rubbing his neck. “He’s an unpredictable one. With a variety of tricks up his sleeve.”

“Please build the wall higher father! My child must be protected from his wrath!”

Zaman glanced at his daughter, looking deep into her pleading eyes and found great worry deep within them. He looked to his grandchild, seeing the peaceful look on her sleeping face. So innocent and untainted by the world.

“… fine.” Zaman sighed with reluctance. “I shall see to it that the wall gets built taller.”

“Thank you father!” Lyvia threw her arm around her father, hugging him tightly. “Thank you! Thank—Oh!” Lyvia pulled back as her child started to cry. “My poor baby, did mommy startle you? Oh, I’m sorry.” She rocked herself, heading off for her chambers.

Caitlin watched as the young goddess walked away, turning to her old friend with a deep frown on her face. “Would building the walls higher even make a difference? Snatcher is a crafty one and you know that walls won’t stop him if he really will go after her child.”

Zaman rubbed his chin, stroking his small beard. “He is crafty. Too cleaver for my taste, and, dare I say, smarter than me and the Sisters. And terrifyingly dangerous. I wouldn’t be surprised if he tries anything, but I’m sure he wouldn’t try anything so soon. But then again. It wouldn’t hurt to prepare and add a little guard to the place.”

“Yes, but would it be enough to stop him? He can be very persistent on his tasks, nothing will sway him from what he sets his mind on.” Caitlin huffed. “To think… he was once one of us on equal ground.”

“Now now. The past is behind us all Caitlin. What happened, happened. There’s nothing we can do now but more forward with time of the future.”

“… Zaman… how… how can you be the only god I know who doesn’t hold on to the past without a deep grudge? Everyone else seems to still hold it against him for what he’s done but you—”

“Caitlin, let’s just say for now that we all were young back then. Snatcher may almost be as old as me and older than you, but sometimes, you have to look at all angles before you see the whole picture.”

Caitlin stared at her friend for a moment before sighing and shaking her head. “I love you old fool, but sometimes, even with the clearness of a cat, you still remain a big mystery to me.”

Zanam smiled. “Because too much curiosity can kill the cat.” He laughed as Caitlin gave him a solid punch to the arm, leading her back inside for a few drinks before seeing her off that night.

[carmineclock]

Dead Man Blues

Doc Scratch 4:28 PM

Its been an hour or so since your big meeting with the others, hopefully things have cooled down somewhat since then. You'd like to think you kept it quite calm and tasteful, despite your overall annoyance. Most of this time you spent updating your journal. You really have to do something about all these journals, its not safe to keep so many. And yet... With a sigh you set your pen aside. Time to do yet more damage control. You still think theres a chance you can get through to Trace, though perhaps you might be as bad as Clover in taht regard. Hoping is one thing, some men just dont change. Still, you make your way down to the holding cells. Perhaps your chat with Trace just needed a more dire backdrop. A broken arm and a cold concrete room with metal bars could be just what the Doctor ordered. Hoo hoo.

Trace 9:01 PM

Dire backdrop is an understatement. Your arm is long swollen, wrapped carefully in your shirt to give it some stability. You know a bit of first aid, but that is surprisingly difficult when it's your own arm and the only means you got available are what you have on your person. The new wound on your chest is just as aching, red and bloody with a hint of gold. You may have managed to pass out for a few hours, but you could hardly call that sleep, especially with that nightmare. Her body, stabbed and strung up - not Aradia's, but Nepeta's. A message to the one closest to her - Fin, angryy setting fire to your very self. The images linger, even long after you finally come to. And then the nightmare after you wake up - Snowman and how she dragged Fin in for your mutual punishment. How she used your wedding rings to violently erase the tattoo on your chest marking your love and relationships. When Scratch enters, you're wide awake, as much as you loathe it. Your mind still feels foggy and worlds away, definitely not prepared for a talk with him.

Doc Scratch 2:28 AM

You study him as you walk in, taking note of the remnants of Snowmans lesson. As graceful as she is deadly, as always. The gold makes a nice addition in your opinion. You take a chair from the nearby table and move it to in front of the bars in silence. After you moment you sit backwards with your arms resting over the back of the chair sit down normally, like a gentleman. This isnt an interrogation, or a call for confession, its just a conversation. "So, lets have it out, Trace. Whats this Droog business really all about. Dont you realize what youve cost yourself?"

Trace 9:51 AM

It never not feels like an interrogation with Scratch. You look up and watch him as he gets comfortable, then stare off to the side when he speaks. The muscles in your jaw tense, and when you reply, your hoarse and cracking voice clearly shows your exhaustion and pain. "Sir.. Do we really need to do this now? I'm not exactly the best for a talk right now and I'm really not too keen on netting me another scar for mouthing off..." Of course, you're aware he wouldn't have it any other time then when you're broken and at your wit's end.

Doc Scratch 11:27 AM

"If you're worried about your mouth, then I suggest you keep a civil tongue. I'm not concerned, though. Theres a kind of freeing honesty that cement walls and metal bars bring that can be found nowhere else. At this point, I would rather you speak freely, its just us now." Just the two of you. Man to man, or whatever Trace can be considered. Its an interesting thought, his classification may change as his DNA did. You'll have to look into that later. For now, your eyes are solely on him. His broken body, his pain. "Tell me true, Trace. I want to hear it. All of it. I wont punish you for speaking truthfully when asked. Its lies I hate the most."

Trace 3:03 PM

You give him a sour smile. You'll believe it when you see it. "What this is about, you really gotta ask?" Feels like you already talked plenty enough about this, and you doubt you got anything else to say that could placate him. Only plenty of frustration that has built up over everything, and you're way too tired to filter your words. Lets see who of the two of you is going to regret that more. "I.. am sorry that any of this ever reflected back on you, Nepeta or any of the Felt. It should never have been anything but personal. Which, I realize...  there's not really a personal in this outfit, is there?" you begin, actually honestly. "This... it was nothing more than a brawl between two guys heated up on a little too much emotion. But then this bastard.. abducted Nepeta, tortured and abused her, and then me. Cause he was pissed he got decked in the face. And he kept going, provoking us again and again, paralyzing her, seducing another, hurting us, as a whole, again and again. How could you expect me to do just nothing? You've been sending a signal, to them and to us, that they can just pick members of this very house off the street and do with us what they want." You try to sit up properly to face him better, wincing from the pain shooting through your arm again. "How has this not been a war yet for fuck's sake? How come Snowman can take the god damn white queen hostage, but we sit idle when the Crew come to pick us apart bit by bit? How come Snowman can take the god damn white queen hostage, but we sit idle when the Crew come to pick us apart, bit by bit?"

Doc Scratch 6:17 PM

You sit in silence, letting him say what hes going to say. You dont blame him for his views, and if anything, this lashing out may prove beneficial to you. No matter what happens from now on, Droog will have the reminder in the back of his mind. Certainly he wont forget it. Idly, you pull at the edge of your gloves, nodding every so often through his heated speech. Well, hes partially right on certain fronts. It really should have been war by now, whether you wanted it to be or not. The crew have gotten bolder and bolder, could it be your fault? Through inaction, have you allowed the crew more purchase on this slippery slope than you'd intended? "To start off, I'll answer your question. The reason it has not been war yet is because we did not have the numbers to win a war." You let out a silent sigh. "In truth, I'd hoped to collect our full set before provoking the Crew into an all out battle. I dont know how many wars you've seen, Trace, but I've seen enough to know that as much as you and all the others may want to go to war, young men that you are, we are not in a favored position for it. The Crew will always have the love of the common people, they built this city, and those that reside here are their kin. They have the better defenses, and most importantly, they have magic. True magic, the likes of which I cant begin to match." You pause to stand, arms folded behind your back as you pace, speaking more to the open air than to Trace now.

"Snowman is an army in her own right, its folly to compare anything or anyone to her. This little brawl you've had with Diamonds, its beyond reason and a waste of resources besides. If you were provoked into action, then you're a fool, because thats what Diamonds wanted from you. But more than that, you've allowed him to take the higher ground. The city is going to bleed now, I'll see to that, but you've allowed Diamonds to make it personal. And a man on a revenge mission doesnt care for the ruin he causes. I did not take what I've taken of this city for the last fourty years just to see it burned by some self righteous bastard in an Armani tuxedo." Another sigh, louder this time. You rub your temple, pausing in your pacing to look back at him. "Provoking. Abusing. Hurting us. All of us. You're right on that front. What one of us suffers, we all suffer. It was my mistake. I took this for play, the usual violence between men at odds, petty revenge for the sake of sleeping better." “But no, this has gotten well and truly out of hand. And its too late to go back. You’ve signed us up for a a war we were not prepared for, against an enemy whose eyes you’ve spit in, and now you say it should have been sooner. Hmph. Maybe you’re right. I dont hear the heckling of those underneath me, but it would only make sense that you do. So, then, its to be war. Do you have any plans for this war you’ve longed for, Trace? Any soldiers for the army? Connections to supplies and trades? Or did you expect that all you had to do was start it, and that I would finish it?”

Trace 8:05 PM

Well, obviously, you don't have any of these. You didn't plan for a war, let alone prepare for it. This was a selfish and careless act of revenge and he knows that. You're slowly starting to realize that you feel more bewildered about Nepeta's reaction than the prospect of war. This life has already been hell and you're tired of playing along. How little you care about Scratch's achievements and goals. Still, that is not an answer to give your boss and, unfortunately, owner. You close your eyes and think. The least you owe the others is to try  And if you've doomed all of you to die and burn, maybe you can at least rip a big hole into the crew. "..How much longer is he gonna have the favor of the common people if he's burning them? If he lashes out without remose and care, use it against them. With fires burning purple, it's not hard to besmirch their name. You have sucked the people dry under threat of violence and torture if they don't pay up. If you lack manpower, offer then alternatives. The crew is torching Felt warehouses. If it's supplies we lack, take theirs. We may be lacking time to prepare, but so do they. It's not too late to gain the upper hand."

Doc Scratch 1:40 PM

You stand and listen as he rattles off his ideas. Theyre not all without merit, but theyre naive, blunt, though its something you've come to expect. How could he possibly have known what he was getting himself, and the rest of the Felt, into. "Hes not burning them, he's burning us. True, it was careless, but Droog wont stay careless. Hes distraught over his daughters death, but he wont stay that way forever. He has as at least as much of a tactical mind as I do, he was built for war." You run a hand over your head, eyes closed in thought, trying not to imagine plumes of purple smoke eating their way through the Felt manor. Purple and green clash too much, it would be hideous. "I have ways of retaking the people, though its not the dregs of society that I'm worried about. All  I need is a shiny coin and a loaf of bread to win their loyalty back. We need to spread out. We need bases of operation throughout the city, safe places that arent glaring green mansions on a hilltop. If the Crew want war, we have to play their game." Yes, this is sounding more like a plan every passing second. You almost get carried away, before remembering where you are. This is no time to get caught up in nostalgia. "You know, it would be much easier planning if we had our trackers back. You and Fin have skills that will be of paramount importance coming very soon. Yet, I hesitate to bring you into the fold. Why should I trust that you can stay your hand? That your loyalty to this organization will trump your lust for revenge? You've proven the exact opposite is the case. Give me a reason why I shouldn't just let you sit down here and rot until the war is over with."

Trace 7:47 PM

Hey, can't blame you for trying, considering your situation. The night in here didn't exactly allow you to do your homework. Neither does it help with the next question. You look at him, tired as you are, trying to muster up the energy to defend yourself. Can't say you're, heh, dying to prove your loyalty to him, but wasting away down here in this cell doesn't seem like a solution either. "I... can't live without this organization. And neither can those that I care about. I know that my actions didn't exactly show it, but I want to do what I can to help it succeed and keep us all safe where possible." You'd like to assure him that your thirst for revenge is well-quenched - and for now it is. But should anything happen to Nepeta and Fin in this war you've apparently summoned, things could get ugly really fast. You won't tell him that. He's probably well aware. You'd like to not have to come to that though. "You gave the reason yourself. We're good at what we can do, and without us, this is gonna be much harder to deal with. Sure, it's a risk for you, but I'd be the one out there, risking my neck. It's my blood they're after. I'm not expecting your trust. I'm sure if you send me out there again, you'll be keeping a close eye on me, until I'll maybe have proven myself someday. Not sure what else I can give you besides my word, and I don't think that's much worth to you right now."

Doc Scratch 1:35 PM

"Hmm, its true enough." You sit back down, leaning back as you think. If you were a lesser man, you might consider handing him over to the crew and suing for peace. That would only be a short term fix, though, and probably cause more problems than itd solve. Not to mention youre loathe to lose one piece of the set. "In truth, Trace, I dont blame you for your actions. Not fully. Droog brought his suffering upon himself. We're just lucky he was good enough to burn all the  evidence." "At the very least you'll be going back to work soon, though as far away from Fin as possible. Perhaps Crowbar can take up the handle of your keeper. I cant have a mad dog running around doling out a childs version of vigilante justice." "For now, though, youll enjoy these accommodations. Im just having your room prepared."

Trace 1:48 PM

You should probably feel relieved at that response, could have gone much worse, after all. But the feeling of anxiety and dread keeps lingering. "I guess that's only fair." You lean back as well, which sends another pain shooting through your arm. A quiet hiss escapes you. Cursed thing. "Before you leave.. with all due respect, not trying to tell you what to do, but I don't think you'd find having me lose my arm or my life to an infection practical..."

Doc Scratch 1:55 PM

You were aleady on your way out when he makes his request. Now you pause, and turn slightly. "Does it hurt? Good. Its supposed to. Someone will be down soon to tend to it. Think on your mistakes, and how you can do better in the future." With that, you take your leave, closing and locking the door behind you.

[biggy-habes]

So we left off with me and Fennie moving in with Amanda. I was a bit nervous about this, because the last 2 girlfriends that I had lived with ended up crashing and burning. One took all of our shit with her while I was at work one day. Nothing better than coming home from a hard day's work to come home to…Nothing. Jack shit. The other one had pissed on our couches and threatened to cut my dick off in my sleep. I slept with a knife in my hand that night. Good times!

So you can probably understand the hesitance. There were some major lifestyle differences between us. She was high maintenance. I am a bit of a slob. She enjoyed being young and having a good time. I was heavily into the drug-free lifestyle of NA. Also…I was a vegetarian. Not just a vegetarian, but a vegan. And a super annoying self-righteous vegan at that. Now how did I get there? How does one go from downing 50 wings at Hooters during a wrestling Pay Per View to eating cashew cheese and lentils? Well it all started with a cat named George. In 2010 I was living in a shitty one bedroom downstairs unit in a shitty part of Lawton, Oklahoma. Every so often a grey cat would be wandering around the tree outside my door. I never saw a collar on him so I assume he just would just wander around the neighborhood. When I would see him from my window I would bring him cold cuts or what not. One day I looked outside and saw him climbing into the tree, however it looked like he had something stuck to his fur. I went out to see what the issue was and give him a hand. I certainly was not expecting to see what was actually in his fur. As I got closer I saw that it was actually burns and scars. It looked as if someone had poured boiling oil on him. I was horrified! This angered me beyond being able to put into words! I felt like I needed to do something. I needed to file a report or something! So I jumped onto my computer and I immediately started searching for ways to report animal cruelty. This would lead to me reading about animal cruelty in general. And this would lead me to reading about animal cruelty in the meat industry. And THIS…would lead to the videos of animal cruelty in the meat industry. And it was that day that I decided that I could not ethically participate in the anything that would promote the things that I have witnessed that day. So from then on I was all about that Vegan Lyfe, son! That was…until I got to Boston.

For my birthday in May we were able to take a few weeks off together and decided to do a bit of traveling. The plan was to spend a week in Boston, come back to Oklahoma, then drive to New Mexico to attend a wedding. Amanda and I had such an incredible time doing all of the touristy stuff that Boston had to offer. I knew a few friends from High School who moved to the Boston area so I had looked up a buddy and we ended up eating sushi at a low key Japanese bar near Boston Common. I figured a walk around after eating would be a nice end to the evening. Unfortunately my stomach had different plans. Soon after we started walking around the Commons I felt a rumble and a grumble. I turned to Amanda and informed her that we needed to find a restroom. STAT! Now here is the thing with large cities like Boston…they don’t just have a McDonalds or a WalMart that you can run into and use the bathroom. And as we continued walking around looking for ANY PLACE where I can duck in and do some damage the sense of urgency just kept rising. It is getting to the point where I am about to settle for an alley and a newspaper. And then, like a beacon of hope, I notice a familiar green mermaid a few blocks away. I immediately start booking with the gait of Abe Vigoda and reach the doors of the Starbucks in a nick of time. I tell Amanda to pull guard while I handle my business. For discretionary purposes I will not dive into the violent details but a few minutes later Amanda knocked on the door to ask if I was alright. And I was. I really was! That is…until I tried to flush. The toilet was broken. It was Dumb and Dumber, but in real life. And happening to me! By now I am looking like I ran a few laps. I am pale and covered with sweat. Like I said…violent. There is NO WAY I would have an explanation for what just went down. So…I did what any rational man would do. I pretended like nothing was wrong and walked out, all the time hoping that no one is waiting to use the bathroom after me. I don’t know what happened after I left that Starbucks that night, but my heart goes out to that poor employee who got assigned that mess.

The next day we had tickets behind the first base line to watch the Sox play the Twins. It was at this game where I came SO CLOSE to achieving a lifelong dream of catching a ball at Fenway Park. A foul ball came into the stands 2 rows behind me! I immediately scrambled to grab the loose ball when a pair of kids ran towards it. I backed off to let them snag an *official* Sox game ball. Good for that kid, right? WRONG! Because he started acting like the cockiest little prick. Talking about how quick he is and teasing his brother with his "trophy catch". I sat there thinking "Listen, you little shit. If you weren't 4 foot nothing and I would have gone after that ball as if you were a grown ass man. You would have ended up somewhere near the On Deck Circle so sit down and shut your fat ice cream covered face!" Now by this time I had been a hardcore vegan for about nine months. And I had gotten GOOD at it. I learned how to spot animal products hidden in labels. I learned which restaurants had off-the-menu vegan options. But being in Boston was going to be the ultimate test. Right now just thinking about being there and not being able to eat seafood is making me the sads. No scallops. No lobster. No chowdah. At the game I was ok with my bag of peanuts while I watched Amanda scarf down a Fenway Frank. But I have always had a weakness for cheese. Not just a weakness though. It is more like I have a problem with cheese. Not the lactose intolerance problem. It is more of an "I Binge Eat Cheese" kind of problem. If I get a night of the sads I will drown my sorrows in a 1 pound brick of muenster. Not just by the slice like a gentleman. No, I have to tear off chunks with my hands like a friggin savage. I happened to notice a lady an aisle over from us eating a slice of pizza. This was not just an ordinary slice of pizza at a baseball game though. This was perfect. The cheese was still hot and melty. The grease glistened from the stadium lights overhead. In a moment of weakness I just had to have a slice of pizza. I turned to Amanda and said "I think I am going to get a slice of pizza." She looked at me, puzzled, and asked "Are you sure? The cheese isnt…" I stopped her right there. I didn’t need to be reminded. #YOLO. So that was the last night that I was a vegan. I held on to being a vegetarian for a few years after that. We can cover that later. Anyways, back to hanging out in Boston.

We tried cramming as much as possible in the few days that we had there. We did a bit of shopping (for her. Amanda was a big fan! Me…not so much. But hey, whattayagonna do?) I took the time to just wander around looking at all the cool sights, the buidings, the people.

Our last night there we went on this super cool ghost tour around Boston Proper. It is one thing to read about these tales about Lizzie Bordon and the great molasses flood. It was a completely different ballgame when you are actually walking around their gravestones! The next day we headed back to Oklahoma, where we has just one day to rest up and pack what we needed for the wedding before hitting the road for Santa Fe, New Mexico.

I did not really know who was getting married. The bride had been a friend of Amanda for a while. Now I know that I am usually cooler than a polar bear's toenails but this was going to be the first time that I would be meeting all of Amanda's closest friends and I was fucking nervous! This was a time where I was very uncomfortable in my own skin and my anxiety was through the roof. The wedding was absolutely stunning! It was held in an adobe brick church that you could not help but marvel at when you walk inside. As the bride walked down the aisle she had a glow to her that caught my attention. It was here that I first imagined Amanda walking down the aisle in a wedding gown. After the wedding we had some time to kill before the reception. We got changed and I put on my game face. I was in recovery at the time and Amanda and her friends still enjoyed partying so I immediately felt out of place. There was also a fair amount of guilt from the feeling that I was preventing her from having a good time. These days when I am in uncomfortable social situations I will usually just start rambling until the conversation gets awkward. However, back then I would just shut down and be the large, weird, reclusive guy. And that is how the wedding reception was. It was just a lot of sipping my coffee and smiling creepily. Thankfully we did not stay long at the reception. I feel like she knew how out of place I felt but was trying my best to power through. Due to the fact that we drove up we were able to bring Fennie along for this leg of the trip so he was a valid excuse for us to leave early.

We took a cab back to the hotel and spent the rest of the night watching TV with the pup. We spent the next day wandering around the city with a few of Amanda's friends. I felt much more comfortable in this setting as I can become charming as fuck in small group situations. Jon Haber is King of the Dinner Table. I spent most of the afternoon getting to know some of her closest friends and let them get to know me a little better now that I was more in my element. There was also something about New Mexico that made me feel at east. The Land of Enchantment has a breathtaking backdrop of mountains and mesas. The architecture of Santa Fe maintains the Pueblo culture and feel.

Amanda had recently started selling jewelry (Translation: She entered a pyramid scheme) and enjoyed looking at the street vendor shops selling various turquoise trinkets. I enjoyed the laid back pace and fresh air. And the food. The food was fucking INCREDIBLE! We went to bed early so that we could head back to Oklahoma the next morning. And that was the end to yet another memorable birthday week. Despite constantly being on-the-go I felt refreshed and grounded. As it turns out I was a hit with Amanda's friends. This was relieving, as the impression that I left on them was constantly in the back of my mind. Overanalyzing the perception that I leave on others has been the one regrettable trait that I have carried in me my entire life.

We returned to Oklahoma and had a week of rest before we hit the road again. This time our destination would be to visit Amanda's mother outside of Vegas. I have never set foot in Las Vegas and was excited to see the bright lights and strange folk that I have heard so much about. For someone who often requires visual stimulation this was perfect!

I am not much of a gambler so I mostly entertained myself by watching the surroundings. It reminded me of something out of one of those In-The-Near-Future sci fi movies. Strangers crowded in the streets wearing any clothing that you could possibly imagine. Celebrity impersonators would have you making constant double takes. Tom Cruise, Pee Wee Herman, Liberace, and of course the stereotypical Vegas strip Elvis. As we were preparing to make our way back to the car the sky lit up like Broadway and an easily recognizable George Thorogood riff blares from all around. Next thing you know Lonesome George is on overhead screens everywhere playing a killer 15 minute set as I sat with my mouth wide open in awe! Being sober I could not take in the FULL Vegas Strip experience but for my first time I was it was thrilling nonetheless.

The next day we went strolling through some of the (free) attractions around Vegas. We had dropped some major coin the past few weeks and were on a tight budget. Amanda's mother lived right outside of Vegas so we had a place to stay. This was the first time meeting her mother. She reminded me a lot of my own. She had a very boisterous laugh and had a light, fun personality. She immediately fell in love with Fennie and was ecstatic to have us staying with her for a couple of days. While we were there I also met Amanda's brother and his family. So if you have been keeping track, in the course of 3 weeks I met the close friends, the mother, the brother, the sister-in-law, and the nephew. This was a pretty significant advancement in our relationship. We had to leave the next morning for Oklahoma so we opted for a nice relaxing day walking around the strip and watching the college kids having their foam parties and beer funnels. It was a great trip and I really enjoyed meeting Amanda's family. I knew that we would be back soon.

And that is where I think we will end this chapter. Join me next time as we wrap up 2011.

And perhaps a big proposal.

[ardynium]

New thingie for Dad!Cor, Uncle Ardyn and the sunshine boy, still for the #kinkmeme. This one is long. And comes in parts. And has a title. Rest of the stories is collected here on AO3, for your reading pleasure.

Family Reunion 1

When Prompto's phone buzzed the tenth time in a row, he decided that it was probably important enough to step out of the movie he was watching. All messages from Noct. [prom] [PROM] [prompto are you home?] [is your UNCLE home???] [its finally happened] [my dad has TIME] [you know what that means right??] [of6 hes on his way now] [tell me your uncle isnt home] [fuck this ill call you] Visitors? Today was not a day for visitors. Nobody had told him there would be visitors today, and today was a bad day anyway, and he was in his pajamas only because Cor had promised him something nice when he put them on. Ardyn opened the door nonetheless. Stared. Stared at polished shoes. Pinstripes. A legbrace. More pinstripes. A beard and a friendly face. "Oh no. Not you." He closed the door. Breathed hard. Opened again, just to make sure he was really there.

Regis Lucis Caelum, current ruler of this city and country, was indeed there, and blinking in mild confusion at the scene unfolding before him. Checked with a side-glance if this was the right place. The sign on the door did say Leonis - it was. "Good afternoon," he said. "This is probably not the right place." The red-haired mess stared at him with an utter lack of respect. "Well, this is probably the right place, but this is... Tea?" This had to be the 'other relative' Cor had mentioned a few times - the one he did not talk about unless necessary. He was starting to get a vague idea why, and as he looked at him, a vague memory scratched at the back of his head. Hadn't he himself...? Oh well. He would simply have come back another time, but it had taken him literal years to carve this afternoon out of his schedule. He smiled. "Yes, please."

It had been hard enough to convince Clarus that he would be good up here on his own, that it would be really enough to place some of his men outside, and in the end, his shield had agreed to keep things as discreet as possible, for Noct's sake.

"You may sit there." He pointed at a rather comfy looking chair. "And you are here because of your son. Want to see how his friend's home looks like. Reasonable, very reasonable." He busied himself in the kitchen, fixing tea. Staring at the cake. It was his cake, but it had too many nuts, and while he wasn't opposed to nuts, everything had to be in regulation. "That is indeed why I'm here, yes. Thank you." Regis sat in the designated chair and looked around. It was a decent place, and it looked lived in, in a reassuring dents in the couch cushions, pictures on the walls kind of way. A surprise - not really what he had expected Cor's place to look like - but a pleasant surprise.

"You, of course, are acutely aware he is not feeling well." Ardyn had decided to share this cake, so he brought some slices to the table, together with the tea.

A frown. "I was hoping he'd fare a little better while he is here, at least." "Oh, he does. Does not even notice himself, and neither does the fledgling but I..." He dipped some of the cake into his mug, "...I see the shadows of his ancestors quite clearly." Regis' hand stopped on the way to the tea cup, just for a moment. He resumed to pick it up, then took a closer look at his host. There was something about that face that seemed familiar, quite literally so. Couldn't be, though. "Who are you?" "If you don't know that, I might as well be... John. John is a nice name, don't you think?" Ardyn beamed at the king. Close up, he seemed to be a rather nice person. Worth of cake. "It is, and this is some really good tea." He smiled. "I'm sorry, I'm sure my son mentioned your name at some point, but I seem to have forgotten." "Oh, I'm rather sure he did not. Calls me uncle, like the fledgling does. But what's a name for a boy his age? Nothing more then a name. No stories, and no memories. How pleasant that must be." Moods flew through him today like clouds over the sky on a windy day. "To be carefree is the privilege of the young and the foolish. Best we can do is let them enjoy it while it lasts." A shadow over the king's smile, just for a moment. “This may be true for most, but not for all, and not for one that bears the world's fate upon his slender shoulders.“ A part of his cake had fallen into Ardyn's tea, so he looked rather sad. The shadow grew darker, and the smiled started to fade. "That's not exactly common knowledge." “Oh yes, I know. Would you like cream with that? I would like some cream.“ Ardyn beamed. He liked having the Lucis Caelum some well deserved bad mood. Regis took a deep breath. Tea, and cake, and a potentially dangerous secret. "Certainly, if you don't mind," he said. "Then how do you know?" Again, it was the face that made him ask. "What is your part in this?" Ardyn wandered into the kitchen to get some cream in a spraycan, for the easy fix. “Take a wild guess, Regis.“ Pushing denial out of the way was hard work for most people on their best days, but the boulder Regis had to move was large, and heavy, and not exactly shaped to roll easily. Ardyn could watch the whole process play out on his face. He sprayed a smiley face on the slices of cake and watched him in delight. Another deep breath, and a little more tea, staring at the face on his cake. Regis finally cleared his throat. "You look taller in the murals."

“And I gained a few pounds since then, but then you always look like a better version of yourself in official portraits. Would you like a drink? I am quite sure Cor won't mind.“ If there had ever been a moment where a drink had been more appropriate, Regis couldn't remember it. He nodded. Ardyn brought him a glass with ice and, after a moment of hesitation, the whole bottle of gin. “Cor drinks this on really bad days, and I suppose this counts as one for you? Oh well, I do not blame anyone who is not keen on family visitations.“ "... not as bad as it could be." Still, he poured, and he drank.

The prophecy certainly didn't say anything about a man in a bathrobe who  looked as tired as Regis felt, or about the young Chosen King hanging out with his 'nephew'. Something wasn't  going quite as it was written, and maybe there was a chance in that. There was a number of issues that could be addressed here, a whole lot of questions asked. He summed them up in one. "So," Regis said, "where do we go from here?" “We could play something. Chess maybe, or Scrabble. Or we could talk about if it wouldn't be a grand old idea to lock me up somewhere where I can hurt neither you nor your boy.“ Coming from a man in pajamas with bunnies on them, even if they were quite obviously tailored, the latter sounded rather strange. "I thought about it for a moment, but somehow I get the feeling that locking you up would be a pointless exercise." The king picked up the plate with his slice of cake, and calmly cut a piece off with his fork. "And then there is the curious fact that you had plenty of time and opportunity to hurt Noctis, and yet never harmed a hair on his head." “Even though he might need a haircut, but who am I to talk.“ Ardyn stuck with tea and cake, and he smiled shyly. “Your boy has done nothing to deserve being part of horrible game they decided to play, and I... I'm so very tired of it.“ "I can only begin to imagine." This was difficult. Not hard as such, if it meant possibly saving his son, but difficult. As his ancestors before him, his whole life had been informed by his duty, and his duty was bound to devotion, to the Crystal, to Bahamut, to the Gods. If he remained faithful, if his family literally gave their life to the cause, the kingdom would be safe. Only that wasn't true anymore

It seemed that after more than two millennia, the bargain was finally off. It had only been meant to be upheld until the appearance of the Chosen King. That he was going to die early was a matter of fact he had come to terms with, but it became clearer year by year that in the end, the sacrifice would be for naught - no Wall would keep Niflheim at bay. Neither his kingdom nor his child were safe. This was difficult, and uncomfortable, but then again, the last ten years had been nothing but a chain of difficult and uncomfortable decisions. "What keeps us from laying down the cards and leaving the table?" “That your boy will have to kill me in the end, because he might be the only way out for me.“ Ardyn seemed to shrink with these words. “And that I fear his sickness is part of the Prophecy, and that they might try to end him if he does not play along.“ Blackness welled up in his eyes, and he wiped his nose with his sleeve. “I'm not ready to die yet. Have hardly lived.“ Regis frowned. "I think we can agree that even if we play by the rules, all of this is meant to happen once Noctis is king, and I plan on delaying that for as long I can. Time we can use to find a way around all of this."

“How I wish you to be right, child, and wise. There is one thing I have to ask of you, though.“ "Which is?" “Do not blame your Heart. I do not know if he knows by now or if he just prefers not to think about it, but he took me in out of sheer kindness, and he was the first to show such kindness in ages. He bears with me, and I am grateful for it. Not as my Shield, but as my friend, and those are hard to come by.“ The golden eyes were very focused now, shining like coins in the afternoon sun. "I won't."

The king smiled. "One of the few things I can promise, these days." Ardyn nodded slowly. "I do not envy you, child. Too well do I know your burden." Being called "child" was more than just a little odd, even if it made sense here. He was just about to reply when there was the staccato sound of a key being too hastily fumbled into a lock, and the door opened. "I'm home! Uncle Ardyn?" There was a slightly panicked edge to the voice that the boy wasn't good at disguising. "Ah, fledgling. Fancy meeting you here. Would you mind a round of Rummy with two old men? It is rather boring if only we play." Prom knew that air of seriousness that hung over them only too well from grown-up-talks, but there was at least no bloodshed, only cake. Nobody was in chains or threatening anyone with anything sharp or black, either. A short glance out of the window - no flying garulas. Noct owed him lunch.

"Sure," he said with a relieved smile. "I'll... just take my stuff back to my room first." "Do that. And hang the laundry while you're at it, will you?" They waited patiently until they heard the door to the boy's room. "You wanted to say something, child." "Only that the chance to turn the tide, as small as it may be, lifts that burden a little. Now, just to clarify," Regis said, "I would be correct in saying that everyone involved in this - everyone who is not a God - simply wants to live a normal, dignified life with a somewhat respectable mortal life span?" "I think this is what I want, indeed," his ancestor answered after short silence. "I'd be willing to help, even. Might have to." "I agree. Any plan with any chance of success would hinge on your cooperation, at the very least." The king thought for a moment, his eyebrows slowly knitting together in a frown. "And on Noctis being aware of it." "And him being willing. I thought about forcing him, but... there is cake, and puppies, and the fledgling, and..." Ardyn's voice broke. "I am glad that you found a place to call home." Nothing good could have come of leaving him to his own devices. Neither for the man himself, nor for Noct, or Lucis, or the world at large. "I am very aware that this is what keeps me here, child, and I try my hardest to let it." Some of Cor's gin ended up in his empty mug. His hands shivered. "The young oracle. You may not allow she follows my path." "How so?" Ardyn emptied his cup. Put it on the table. Started pouring tea. "This is her taking the pain of strangers, like I used to do. Taking their darkness." He kept on pouring. "Things are good for quite a while. She'll bear it. Get used to it. Won't hurt that much anymore. You can keep smiling." And he kept pouring. The mug spilled over, dark tea running over the table, dripping down on the carpet. "This is me." "I see," Regis said. After a moment of thought, he added, "On the long run we will need her support, too. I don't think she would knowingly work against a plan that leads to less bloodshed. Then again, I haven't seen the girl since she was twelve. It does defy divine will, and she is the oracle." “Doing what she does isn't exactly the best for your sanity.“ Ardyn's grin had more than a tinge of desperation, and he only now noticed that his little demonstration might leave stains on the carpet, so he went to get towels. "So we have not only Noctis and you to save, but Lunafreya as well." He pinched the bridge of his nose. "And there is a deadline, so to speak - we need to act before the girl loses it and sets events into motion that we cannot stop." Like waking the Gods. That would be a problem. "She might be reasoned with, if she is alone. You know how to play Rummy, don't you?" A slight nod into the direction the boy had disappeared in, and a door opening. Regis nodded. "I do." "I can take a little longer with the laundry," Prompto said, with an awkward smile and both eyebrows raised, pointing a thumb over his shoulder back out of the room. "If that helps."

"Will you stay for dinner, Regis? That would be nice. It has been a while since we had a guest." "With pleasure. I haven't really had the chance yet to see the rest of the family, have I?" “Then I shall make a dinner fit for a king. Fledgling? Grab a pen and join us for a while, I have a list to make!“ Prompto rolled his eyes - he was sixteen, it happened automatically - and turned to grab that pen and paper. “So. I will need...“ He dictated a whole lot of things, and after he was half through his order, Prom knew what it would be: homemade ramen. In uncle's world, serving someone a bowl of that stuff was close to a confession of love. His Majesty must have done something really right. So that had gone a lot better than expected, and he was getting ramen night out of it, too. Sweet. The only question that remained was how dinner would go once his dad came back home. He should probably give him a warning that yes, Ardyn was home. Prompto simply assumed that Cor knew where the king was. So the minute he went out to get the ingredients, he wrote a text, [guest f dinner, all ok, uncle makes ramen] That should about cover it. "Do you have preferences for dessert, Regis?" Prom's phone vibrated. [Surprising.]

[a freakin miracle. need anything from the store?]

"I think you can never go wrong with ice cream." [May need a drink.]

"Oh, I do think you can go quite wrong with ice, but never with chocolate. So, fledgling, you'll bring...," and his list continued. The evening would end in a coma, but one that was caused by food. [gin's open] Another text before Prompto went back to taking notes, this one to Noct: [ur dad stays f dinner, u owe me lunch.] [Shit. Have an eye on him. I'm coming.]

The last time uncle Ardyn had been seriously drunk had been years ago. Prompto had been at a sleepover, and Ardyn had been worried . Dad never told him exactly what happened, but there had been blood and tears, and Dad had been to hospital. With a few drinks and a good mood, uncle was simply excellent company. [will do]

"Okay, right, I think I'm gonna need a truck for that." "Why don't you get your friend? Should be enough for one more." It easily would be, and maybe for breakfast. "Really?" Excitement or annoyance? There was no way to tell. He looked down at his phone again pretty much immediately.

[u just got invited. (help. ><)] [am i beesee? Oo]

“Why not? The whole family gathered. That would be nice, wouldn't it?“ The look that Ardyn threw him gave Regis the very distinct feeling that his ancestor was just screwing with the teenager and enjoying himself immensely. [no ur not ffs] [it's my uncle + ur dad] [my dad? here soon] [get me out or haul ur ass over here] Regis had a hard time hiding his grin. The beard helped a little. [are we getting ENGAGED?!] “Do you think you can be back in half an hour, fledling? Then I'll start with the dough now.“ ( "Yeah, sure." [凸(｀△´＋）] “You want to help, Regis? You can sieve the flour. That is a pretty important part.“ Even Prompto noticed this uncle was talking to the King like he was a kid. And that the King was, very patiently, letting him - at least in these four walls. Still, he needed to get out of here now. Prompto grabbed his backpack and fled.

[not-close-to-straight]

Storms (Chapter Eleven)

ADDITIONAL CHAPTERS HERE Enjoy :) ****************** Nobody said anything when Thor officially moved all his things into Tony's room, and nobody said anything about the power outages. Tony did some quick work to the compounds wiring systems, and now the lights only flickered when the thunder rolled, instead of having breakers pop and wires fry. Tony started walking into the kitchen and curling up in Thor's lap to share his breakfast, and Thor kept grabbing Tony at random times and kissing him. Thoroughly. Messily. Regardless of where they were or who they were around. Whispering things in Old Norse that had Tony blushing and stammering and usually dragging Thor back to the bedroom. Sometimes Tony carried Mjolnir just for the hell of it, with Thor usually trailing behind him with awestruck eyes. And nobody said anything about that either. In fact, the first time anyone said anything about anything, it was Steve. And he picked the wrong thing to say. Just a normal day--most of the team was working out in the compounds training room, Clint and Natasha sparring lightly, Sam lifting weights. Wanda was doing her yoga in front of the large mirrors, Vision watching and occasionally talking to her. They had been trying to get back to their previous levels of intimacy, but it hadn't been easy. Bucky and Steve were boxing, bare knuckle of course since they didn't really bruise and weren't really worrying about hurting each other. Everything was going well, relatively speaking, until Thor walked in. “Have any of you seen Anthony?” his booming voice cut through the music and noise and everyone told him no, they hadn't seen him yet, but they would let him know Thor was looking for him. Everyone was polite, everyone smiled, everyone was trying to get along. Everyone except Steve. “Thor.” Steve leaned against the ropes of the ring and motioned for him to come closer. “Yes, Captain Rogers.” Thor slipped into the ring and stood in front of him, arms folded over his chest, looking down at him from his two or three inch height advantage. “What is going on with you and Tony.” Steve wasn't so much asking as he was demanding answers and Thor tried not to smile. “I would think what Anthony and I are doing would be fairly obvious.” he replied blandly. “It seems as if you have a problem with it. Why would that be? Jealousy, perhaps?”

Steve flushed an angry red. “It just seems interesting that you were nowhere to be found when we needed you, but as soon as Tony is here alone you are showing up and--” Steve shrugged a little. “Swooping is as if you are trying to save the day.” “I was nowhere to be found when who needed me?” Thor asked, and rocked forward onto his toes a little, dropping his arms by his side. “Stevie.” Bucky murmured, sensing the change in the air, and he took a small step forward. “Careful.” “When the team needed you.” Steve emphasized. “Someone like you could have easily kept everyone together instead of splitting us right down the middle. It isn’t as if we have been on vacation, things have been difficult this past year, and if you would have been here, part of the team, then we probably could have avoided all of this.” “Myself and the team have still been trying to do the Avengers work without the support of the UN, without new tech behind us, without all the benefits that came from being here. And Tony has been sitting here. Doing what?” Steve sounded angry, and missed the warning flash in Thor's eyes. “Sleeping with you? How long have you and he been here, anyway? Not bringing us home? Not caring about the team that used to be family?” “Goddamit Stevie, for once in your life, learn to shut your mouth.” Bucky hissed and Steve shot him an annoyed look. “Bucky it's fine. These things had to come out eventually. Thor knows that things are tense, and his little affair with Tony isnt making things easier.” He turned his blue eyes back to Thor. “Im just saying that I think you could have resolved this whole mess quickly, and you chose not to. You chose to stay here with Tony instead of trying to get us home, and that sucks.” “I suppose that might be how it looks.” Thor reasoned. “Have you said your piece, then? May I speak now? Perhaps offer a counter-opinion?” “Yes, Thor. By all means.” Steve relaxed, glad the demi-god was willing to talk things through. “Excellent.” Thor said with a short smile. “ Well then--” “Steve!” Bucky was yelling, picking up Steve's shield where it sat against the ropes and flinging it hard, sending it winging through the air just in time for Thor to smash his fist into it. It didn't even slow the demi-god down. Thor simply batted the shield out of the air and took a big step forward, fisting his hands in Steve's shirt and lifting him high above the mat. “Let him go!” Bucky snapped and came at Thor hard, his left hand swinging in a punch that would have taken the head off a normal man. Thor didn't even blink. Just shifted his weight, tightened one hand around Steve's neck, and reached out with his other, catching Bucky's fist without even looking. “That was not smart.” Thor said slowly, and twisted his arm, sending Bucky to his knees in pain as his shoulder rotated in it's socket, the metal creaking as Thor forced it to turn. “Thor.” Steve was turning a little blue, dangling in the air, and Thor dropped him unceremoniously to the mat, calling for Mjolnir in a split second and snatching the hammer from the air as it flew towards him. One final push against Bucky, and the super soldier went flat on the mat in submission, and Thor set Mjolnir down on Bucky's chest to keep him immobile while he knelt over a still gasping Steve. “Breathing alright?” Thor asked mildly, and Steve just stared up at him. Thor smiled, but it wasn't a good one, and set his hand on Steve's chest. “Mjolnir doesn't actually weigh anything.” Thor said conversationally, when Steve sent a panicked look at a struggling Bucky. “It won't cause any damage to the Soldier to lay under her. I, however--” Thor leaned down and Steve groaned as his chest lit up with pain. “I can lift buildings, Steven. I can crush bones without trying. I can call my lightning and destroy you as you lie here helpless.” Steve's eyes were wide, his hands wrapped around Thor's wrist trying to lift his hand from his chest. But Thor wasn't budging. “Do you know why I would never do those things to you? Because I know going into a fight with you, that I would win. With all your enhancements, with your extra strength and speed and that shield you use just as well as a weapon, I would still win. I would always be the victor. Steven, it does not take a man to win a fight he was always going to win.” “Anthony, for all his genius and all his tech, will never physically be the man you are.” Thor continued, and next to him, Bucky went perfectly still, listening closely. “Even in his suit, he is no match for you, Steven, and certainly not a match for you and the Soldier. And yet, you entered into a fight with him anyway. You could have stopped when it was obvious you would beat him, but you didn't. You could have immobilized him and walked away, but you didn't.” Thor increased the pressure on Steve's chest until the blond was panicking, scratching at him and breathing hard as his lungs were constricted. “Instead you smashed your shield into his already compromised chest, and left him for dead in the back end of Russia, trapped in a suit that was disabled, thanks to you and your friend.” “Do you know he has an iron bar holding his sternum together? That he can't walk from one end of the compound to the other without having to stop to catch his breath?” Thor's eyes were flashing again, his voice dropping as he got angrier. “Anthony has nightmares, more nights than not, and he wakes up screaming for you to stop hurting him. He was so afraid to be approached that it took weeks before I could even touch him. He was drinking so heavily that he could not tell from one day to the next if he had been sober at all. And was eating so little he didnt even have the strength to stand.”

Thor sent a look at Bucky, who had stopped struggling and was staring at him, horror and sadness shadowing his eyes.

“He worked non stop drafting letters to anyone who would listen trying to get you and the team home, and then cried in my arms because he knew bringing you home was the best thing to do, but he didnt think he could handle being around you again. And now that you finally are home, you treat him like an intruder in his own compound, treat him as if he has to watch his step around you.”   Thor leaned even closer, pushed even harder and Steve tried to yell, his voice barely audible because he couldn't breathe. “I refuse to engage in a fight with you, because I know I would win. I am a better man than you, and would never put you through what you did to Anthony.” Thunder rolled around the room, then, the lights flickering with the surge of power. “But if you ever open your mouth and accuse him of not caring about this team, if you accuse him of simply waiting here and finding pleasure with me instead of working to clean up you and your teams mess…” Thor made a fist on Steve's chest and rocked his weight into it, his knuckles popping sharply as they dug into Steve's sternum, the serum enhanced bone just seconds from snapping. “I will finish the fight that Anthony was unable to. I will tear you apart and leave you for the dogs.” Thor stood to his feet then, and strode out of the ring, nearly out the door before he threw his hand up and called for Mjolnir, the hammer lifting from Bucky's chest and flying across the room. “The same goes for the rest of you.” Thor growled. “Do not test me. I am Thor Odinson, Prince of Asgard, God of Thunder.  Myself and my love are not to be trifled with.” ******************** “I heard thunder.” Tony was pacing in the kitchen anxiously when Thor appeared. “Is everything alright?” “All is well, Anthony.” Thor set Mjolnir down on the table. “Captain Rogers and I simply had a discussion.” “About?” Tony pressed and Thor smiled, even though his eyes were flashing angrily. “The Captain had his own idea of what you have been doing this last year, as well as his own opinions about it. I simply...rectified his inaccurate view.” “And?” “And told him I would feed him to the dogs if he challenged me.” Thor finished, his voice rising. “You will not be disrespected, Anthony. Not by anyone, and certainly not by a man who left you to die.” Thor clenched his fist, breathing hard. “He had the gall to say if I would have been on earth, things would have gone differently for the team. I assured him  they would have in fact gone differently. I would have simply called my lightning and ended it all and then taken you away to--” “I love you.” Tony interrupted, and Thor blinked at him in surprise. “Anthony--” “I don't care if it's too soon to say it.” Tony's eyes were full, tears spilling down his face. “Not once have I ever felt that someone would stay when they promised to, or defend me when they promised to… and you have been everything, everything,  to me for months now. And I love you.” he swallowed a little and held his hand out. “Do you love me too?” “Thu er frithir mi.” Thor reached for him and pulled him close, whispering into his hair. “You are my love, Anthony. Elskan min, beloved. Of course I love you.” “Take me to bed then.” Tony said then wiping his tears. “I'll bring Mjolnir.” he reached out and picked up the hammer and Thor laughed, swinging him easily into his arms. “Come then, perfect worthy one.” Thor kissed him gently. “Let us make a storm together.”  

**************************

[lostandbrokenshell]

Darkest Before Dawn. Part 2

Farcry 5 fanfic. Rated M for Mature language and sexual reference. No pairing or plans for smutt.

Your head hurt fiercely slowly you open your eyes there was a man sitting not far from you, your hands where zap strapped to a post.

“Good your awake, you people really kicked the hornets nest.” He said staring you down.

“Sir im a lonely red head.”

“Im reffering to the shit job you deputies and that dumb ass marshal did.”

“Well it was my first day, i skipped the tutorial. Probably a my bad.” You reply as you close your eyes. Fuck did your head hurt.

“Is this a joke to you? Because those peggies are out there murdering people and burning their homes to the ground. They where waiting for some dumb ass to start their holy war and you ass holes just did it. Now good folks are dying and im trying to figure out this mess you made.”

“No this isnt a fucking joke, i was literally blown off a bridge. I went to see what happened to the dumb asses when we lost contact and another deputy split. I have no fucking clue whats going on i arrived in this town yesterday to start my job today. I went from being a fucking paramedic to this shit? Fuck. Fuck this is fucked. Am i going to make jokes? Yes, why? BECAUSE I WAS BLOWN OFF A FUCKING BRIDGE! Worst first day ever and now im tied up in what looks like is some old dudes basement. Sorry if im not taking it to seriously right now i have had a doozy of a time trying to figure this shit out.” You say while glaring at him, he studied your face for a few minutes before sighing deeply and pulling out a knife and cut you loose.

“Theres clothes in there, get changed burn the uniform meet me down the hall.” He said as he walked away. You pick out a flannel red shirt and jeans and go see the old man. There was one wall dedicated to your family and another woman. Clippings about disappearing people,a cult, people being strong armed out of their properties and homes. Your family was the centre of it all.

“Jeez” you whisper and you hand traces the wall. You look at “Faith” and the flower named bliss it was some serious chemistry compound drug work.

“Near as i can tell, shes a replacement for the sister they couldn’t find. Call her Faith because they believe that their sister will come back, and that “Faith” will help harrold her into a new beginning.” He said from behind you. “Names Dutch. I get you didn’t kick this hornets nest, but your involved non the less deputy. Help me, help the folks out there in this mess and maybe we can fix it.” You turn to face him, his face was stern and fixed on you for your reply.

“They’re killing people?” You ask and he nodded.

“If not themselves, they order it.”

“Im in.” You say with a small nod. Your heart had sunk. Blind leap of faith was a bad idea. Should of looked up everything, is that why the house was so cheap? People cutting losses and getting the fuck out of town? Dutch talked with you for a while catching you up on Edens Gate and “Peggies”. He helped you get a good lay of the land and where to find some things and even gave you few guns to leave with.

“Other than your, brief training as a deputy what else do you have in your bag of tricks. Because you cant underestimate these peggies.” Dutch asked as you where heading to the bunker door. “ These peggies dont mess around.”

“Fair enough, i was in air cadets until i was 18 got my pilots license through them, learned to shoot to. Im a ace shot actually.” You say with a smirk. “I also volunteered as a firefighter at 16 did that for a few years to, become a paramedic and did that until I moved here. I have lots of experience saving lives, this is the first time i get to use guns to do so.” You say with a smile.

Duth noded “Good dont die then.”

Securing falls end wasnt easy, you had to wait for a group of peggies to take off and act, strike fast and once they had the opportunity the rest of the town fought with you. Mary May put a shot and beer in front of you.

“You earned it darling.” She said with a smile “You really shoved it to those peggies! And it was beautiful.” Before you could answer the tv flickered and started showing an image of John, he had Hudson and was talking. You couldn’t hear what he was saying your mind tuned it out. You where lost, it really is your family and they are fully aware of what they are doing. The video started over again it was on a loop you realize you where holding your breath and exhale. You take the shot and put your head on the counter. This is fucked.

“Dep-you-tee” the radio crackled “You must have a radio from my men enough of them had one.” You look at the radio beside you Mary May was glaring at it. If looks could kill.

“Hello John.” You say slowly your mouth was dry, your heart pounding.

“Ah, there she is! I was wondering if I would get to hear your voice. I wonder when we get to meet? Will it be at your baptism maybe?”

“Not surprised you don’t recognize my voice John, but we met.” The bar was silent probably the quietest its even been you didn’t know.

“Oh? An old conquest maybe? Did you have a habit? Lots of possibilities. But none that matter. We maybe short what was promised but reaping day is here.”

“Where you promised another person?” You ask remembering Dutchs words about how they believed you would be back.” Laughter erupted on the other end.

“Dont you worry about that dep-you-tee, Joseph hasn’t been wrong yet, see you around John out.”

“Looking forward to the reunion, kind of its conflicting now... Joanne Hope out.” You didn’t add your last name, you didn’t go by Seed anymore but you think that was enough for him to get the picture. Everyone in the bar was fixed on you and the radio. There was a long silence before it was broken surprisingly by the radio.

“You’re top priority Dep-you-tee, your marked now. Lets see if you are, who you say you are hm?”

“Nothing like a good ole sibling rivalry John, in the midst of a hostile cult takeover. Lookin forward to it, because im not turning my back on these people. Ive dedicated my life to saving lives im not going to stop now.” You slide the radio away and the pastor sat down beside you everyone went tense watching you. “Im not like my brothers.” You say quietly as you sip at your beer.

“I certainly dont think that you are. Im pastor Jerom” he said warmly has he put his hand on your back. “Thank you for saving us.”

“Seeds arent welcome here” someone angrily yelled

“Then i guess its a good thing my last name is Knight. After my parents that raised me.” You say as you turn around to face the people. “I dont know what shit show i walked into, but this certainly isnt what i was expecting. Finding long lost homicidal siblings running a cult that almost killed me multiple times since i came to town. Fucking great. Just fucking great. I didn’t look into shit moving to this town because i wanted to be surprised. Looked beautiful seemed like a great job everything just seemed to fit so i thought it did. Should of stayed in Canada, paramedics dont deal militant cults.” It looked like a couple people where going to say something and you where getting ready to leave. Mary May slammed her hands on the bar.

“The deputy stays. She chased those peggies out of town, she freed us and gave me my bar back. Got a problem with that then walk.” She said as she nodded towards the door everyone looked down and walked away. “You got balls. I like that.” She said to you with a smile “Have another shot, we cant pick family.” She slid another shot to you and Jerom and poured one for herself. “Cheers” you all raised your shot glasses.

The next day you start driving up to the jail Jerom thought that maybe some space between you and the men looking for you might be best. You where not ready to deal with Jacob yet either so you decided on Faiths region. Besides should probably check in at the office so the know your alive, if they haven’t heard already. It was easy to zone out driving no one one the roads. Just tree, tree, tree, sign, tree, tree, tree, flaming person, tree, tree. Shit! Flaming person? You slam on the breaks and look back a peggie was on fire while it looked like Sharky assisting in the lighting of the fire. You put it in park and hop out.

“Sharky my man! Safer to travel in numbers want to come?” You ask as you to nod to your stolen truck.

“Hang out with the coolest deputy ever bashin peggie heads? Hells yes im in! Your like the coolest bro ever, i mean dude, dudette? You know. Uhh, yeah.” He said with a nod.

“Great, I remember something about a flamethrower? That would be great in times like this.” You say as you both get in “I mean if the worlds going to burn, might as well help it.”

“Seriously your like, the fucking coolest how did you end up with the popo?or this shit hole town for that matter”

“An absolutely terrible judgement call.” You reply With a laugh. “When my parents passed and left me everything i saw an opportunity to try something new. I had money to sit on while i did training and that for some reason i thought law enforcement. I mean i did some firefighting, was a paramedic and thought why not law. It ended up the town i had long lost family in, needed someone of my position i went for and got it.” You say the jail was close by now. “I wasn’t expecting a crazy cultists hostil take over on day one of the job.”

“No one ever expects the crazies, you just cant know how crazy they are untill its to late. Like we all knew they where crazy but not likeTHIS crazy. This is set your house on fire with you trapped inside crazy. Because thats what they’re doing ya know, litterly what they’re doing.” Sharky said with a nod “I feel bad because i may of shown one or two peggies how to make a flamethrower before i knew they where crazy peggies.”

“Dont worry Sharky, i wont blame you for that... If you dont blame me for my long lost family. Im, uh.. My last name was Seed a long time ago, before i was adopted.” You say stiffly not sure how he would react he looked surprised for a minute then nodded.

“No worries bro, we’re on the same team!” He said as he patted you on the shoulder. The prison came into view and it looked like it was through a war.

[sherlockmonkeesstartrek]

OMG You are a goddess for sending me Terry!!!!! I LOVED IT SO MUCH!!!!! ps I would be very keen on reading the rest if u post it. *whispers* Smut isnt something i mind at all, lol. You made my day with that masterpiece!!

Well, I must say I don’t think I’ve ever been called a goddess before! What a compliment. Thank you. And as promised, here is some more. I’m not sure how the smut went, but I hope it’s not too bad ;)

You talked until most of your friends had left, and the other drunk parties around had mostly dispersed. You had tons of questions, all about the band, all about Terry, a man you’d only read about in papers, only heard about a while ago. You wanted the story from his mouth. And not just the story of how he got into the Hollies. No, you had to know a lot more than that. To really get a feel for the guy, you listened to as much of his life story he was willing to offer.

As he spoke, you realised that he’d known so many people, George Harrison and his brothers, John Lennon and Paul McCartney, the Swinging Blue Jeans of which he had been a member.

However, you also realised that, despite all this, the fame that the Hollies were beginning to give him, the tales of people he’d met, the stories he could tell, he was a down to earth young man, a shy boy stepping nervously into a pretty hectic world of which he’d only had a taste and was craving more. He had passion for what he did, a deep interest and love in music.

It was in that conversation that you decided how you felt about him. You liked him, perhaps better than Graham Nash. You’d always had the thought in the back of your mind since you heard Hollies Sing Dylan and Sorry Suzanne that perhaps his voice matched Allan Clarke’s better than Graham’s, but admitting it was hard until now. Until you look into his eyes, smile, because his own is so infectious, and confess to yourself as you listen to him talk that you are kind of falling for him.

And something in his shy glances up at you gives you the sense that he may feel a similar way. You let him finish talking, then gulp down the last of the drink you’ve been idly playing with between sips. He does the same. You’re both finished, you’ve spoken through the evening, practically until closing time of the bar. What more is there to do but ask;

“So, are you going home after this?” You almost pat yourself on the back for having the courage to even allude to anything further.

Terry’s eyes glimpse knowingly at you, “I was going to, yeah. Nothing better to do.”

For you, it is too easy. You’ve a naughty mind, people have told you so before. You can’t help it, though. It’s your playful side, your silly side and boy are you sure you’ll get a laugh out of him for the line you’ve just thought up. Laughing at yourself disapprovingly, you lean forward, pushing your chest out suggestively, and very deliberately, and open your lips.

“Well, now you have someone to do.”

Ok, so it wasn’t that funny, it sounded much better unspoken, as a secret joke only your privy to. But the slight shock and suggestiveness brings about a good enough, shy laugh from Terry’s lips. That is a win. You sit back in your chair, crossing your arms over your chest, slightly pushing up your breasts and gaze at him with a sleek, flirtatious look, waiting for a reply. It may not have been a question as such, rather more of an offer, but you wait to see if he’ll take you up on it, if he even gets it in the first place.

For as much of a sweetheart as he seems, with such a young, innocent face, you know full well that he is a red-blooded man and there is no way that he really could miss at least the idea you’re suggesting. Certainly not when his smile has taken on a more amused, approving look to it.

“Would you be interested in coming back to mine for a…” He trails off as he realises he’s already bought you a drink. He’s bought you two, in fact. Asking you back for yet another one might seem like too much, especially when you’ve already been slow in finishing the ones you had, but what he seems to be forgetting is that it’s merely an excuse, a formality, a pleasantry. If he really is getting what you’re implying, it doesn’t matter what line he uses to get you back to his place, or even to go to yours. It’s just that, a line.

So, it doesn’t even matter if he doesn’t finish the sentence. To help him, you say, “Sure. Let me get my coat.”

He looks surprised, and pleased, of course. You chuckle to yourself as you get up and walk out amongst the tables. Your coat remains on one you’d been sitting on with your work friends. Not one of them are still around. As you pull the garment on, Terry joins you, waiting patiently, even helping when you fail to hook your hand in the coat’s sleeve. He pulls it up over your shoulder and draws both sides of the collar closer together to ensure it’s on properly and keeping you warm. As he does so, though, one of his long fingers brushes your neck. He’s quite cold, the feeling lingering on your flesh longer than the touch. You gaze up at him, wondering if it was intentional or not, but his expression is discernible. He merely carries on as if nothing happened, but beams brightly, eyes glistening like a kid who knows he’s done something bad.

“Ready?”

“Oh, I think I am.” And you think this is going to be fun. More fun than you originally imagined when the thought of you spending any time with him entered your mind.

He pivots on his heels, heading towards the door of the bar and you follow not two steps behind. Having no car and being probably too tipsy to drive, he hails a cab while you stand, cold at the road side, watching his timid gestures at the vehicles. The night may not be a kind one, it is England after all and autumn has set in with its brown leaves carpeting the pavements, but just the sight of Terry has you warm. You care not for the bracing wind that blows your hair mussed, nor the slight dampness that threatens in the air, a light shower hanging in the purple clouds above. You ignore your goosepimpled legs, shivering beneath your skirt with only a thin layer of sheer fabric protecting them and you disregard the numbing in your fingers, as you had a poor choice in coats, this one has no pockets to warm hands in. Instead, you are preoccupied from these discomforts by Terry. You notice that his dark moptop is long enough to be blown by the wind too, ruffling it. When he looks at you, strands of it brush his face, over his nose and over his eyes. You also see the way his flared trousers are rounded at the bottom quite perfectly as he stands, leaning slightly forward to flag down a car. They billow around his ankles, covering the top of his dark coloured boots.

Ah and when a cab does turn up, he pulls open the door for you, like a real gentleman. As you get in, you try your hardest to be dainty, composed. You have a knack for being clumsy. Thankfully, it seems to work- either that, or your clumsiness goes unnoticed- and he gets in after you, sitting right by your side. Now you’re touching, your arms, your calves. You can hear him breathing. You hear the rustle of his clothes as he sits forward and tells the driver where to go. You can hardly believe this is happening. Not only are you going home with a guy you met in a bar that night, which in and of itself is surprising, but this man is… well, if he is not a famous musician, he is sweet, he is damned good looking.

In your mind, you pat yourself on the back for taking this chance. You can’t wait for the payoff.

Which seems to be coming soon as the drive is short, the cab pulls up in a street that you half recognise and Terry helps you out of the car with an outstretched hand. He doesn’t let go once he’s got hold of you. Gently, he guides you to the front door, fumbles with his keys with his free hand and lets you both in.

As soon as the door is closed with you both on the other side, Terry spins you around and kisses you. His lips are full, soft to kiss, and he is very gentle, pressing you lightly against the wall, just so you have something to prop yourself up against. You hear, as you have closed your eyes, the clang of his keys tossed on a chest of draws beside you, then feel his hand draw up to rest on your hip. You bring yours up and cling to his torso, tightly. He has a wonderful, slender body to look at, never mind actually feel. Now that you do, though, you’re intoxicated. You have to feel more. You’re the first to make a move, sliding one hand to his front and tucking it into the hole between buttons of his shirt. His chest is dusted lightly with hair, one trail of it reaching to his belly button. He feels hot, smooth. You want to really hold him, so you start to unbutton the shirt, inviting him to do the same to you.

He unbuttons your shirt about halfway and appears to get impatience. He pulls apart the severed flaps of the garment, revealing your dark green bra adorned in a layer of black lace. He cups one of your clothed breasts, feeling it, before he breaks the kiss to look at what he is holding, appreciatively. That is until looking simply is not enough. He pulls down the bra and encloses his mouth around your nipple. You gasp, rising onto your tiptoes at the first shot of pleasure running down your spine. One of your hands involuntarily reaches up and knots its finger into his thick hair, while the other attempts to pull the coat still around your shoulders off. It ends up gathering at your back, falling only when you move, letting it pool on the ground. With this layer gone, Terry decides it’s time to shed some more clothes.

He finishes removing your shirt, then moves onto unhooking your bra after sliding his own shirt off his arms onto the floor. He kicks off his shoes while you unlace yours- you curse yourself for wearing strappy kitten heels- and peel off your tights. Then he grasps your waist, quite forcefully, which is a bit of a shock from a man who has been, so far, as gentle as a butterfly.

“Do you think we can make it up to my bed?” He asks. You mockingly consider it for a moment.

“If not, could we not make use of the stairs?”

“Sounds like a plan.”

He continues to hold onto you as you both head for the stairs. Behind you, you’ve left a pool of clothing, making it look as though two people have evaporated into thin air, leaving behind only their outfits. Well, minus the trousers and your skirt. That’s the best bit to remove, no? You’re going to savour the moment with his, while he has other plans for you.

You both enter the bedroom, a cosy, slightly messy room whose defining feature is not the bed, which is pushed up against the far wall, but an acoustic guitar leant on a stand next to a leaking wardrobe. You recognise it from picture you’d seen of the Hollies on stage. It hits you once again just who’s room you’re standing in, goggling at as though it were a showroom.

But you’ve not much time to really look at it all, as Terry walks up behind you, feathering his hand up your thigh. As it gets higher, your skirt is hiked up sending a soft breeze that wakes the skin there. His hands are still pretty cold, so you feel his touch lingering, all the way up to your hip.

“May I?” He asks politely, tugging on the waistband of your underwear.

You peer over your shoulder, eyes half fluttering closed as anticipation builds. You manage to whisper, “Of course,” though you are sure that’ll be the last coherent phrase you’ll speak all night. You’re already moaning as he threads your underwear down your legs with one hand while the other parts you, parts your lips and feels between them.

He remains behind you, for some reason, after removing your underwear. He slowly nears you until he moves the hand pleasuring you to the front and presses his front against your back. You’re quite a lot shorter than he is. He can practically rest his chin on the top of your head, should he want to. He does not, it seems. He has more interesting touches to press against you, like the distinct hardness resting just above your butt. He’s hard for you. The idea ignites a flame of pleasure below your stomach. You ache for him. His fingers slowly rubbing you is not enough. You imagine what he looks like completely nude, what it would feel like to have him inside you.

For now, however, he makes you rest your head on his shoulder so he can reach your lips. He kisses you, still quite gently, which he pleasures you. You whimper into his mouth, begging with those small sounds for more. He begins to understand as you thrust your hips into his hand for more friction.

“Turn around.” He moves his lips from yours to speak, quietly. You obey, turning close to him so you don’t miss the heat of his body, the touch of his flesh, his chest. He moves you just a step back, barely even that, so he can reach down and unzip his fly. You watch hungrily as he pushes the trousers out of the way, reaches into his briefs and pulls himself out of them. His hardness accidentally brushes your stomach, which he would’ve apologised for had you not stolen the silly words from his throat by collapsing onto your knees and enthusiastically taken him in your mouth. He groans quite loudly, perhaps the loudest he’s been all night, which tells you that you’re doing a good job. In fact, you even think you’ve surprised him.

He places one hand on the back of your head, gripping your hair lightly, just for a handhold to steady himself, while the other reaches down to hold one of yours. You have your left hooked on his trousers which hang below his butt. He sides his fingers around your knuckles and clasps them tight when it feels really good.

When he starts to hold you that tight the whole time, he decides it might be time to stop.

“I’ve got to have you,” He tells you, helping you back onto your feet, “I’d hate to be short with you.”

You giggle, turned on and nervous, mostly because your legs have turned to jelly and you’re feeling clumsy with desperation. Thankfully, he saves you of embarrassment, keeping hold of you, guiding you to the bed. He kisses you, pushing you back until you buckle onto the mattress, until you’re lying on it, under him. He then brings up his hand, presenting two of his long fingers, the middle and ring finger. He places them into his mouth, sucks, slicking them up ready to insert them inside you. They slip in easy, because you are already wet for him, so he doesn’t spend all that much time playing around down there. He grasps hold of his rock hard member and guides it into you.

The first thrust causes every nerve ending to explode with pleasure. You grip the sheets beside you, pulling them up on one side to your mouth, muffling the gasps you cannot stifle. But Terry wants to hear them. Kindly, he intertwines his fingers in yours, making no space for the sheets. They fall back around you.

For much of the time he has you, you’re looking into his eyes. It is downright impossible in your state of mind to fathom what you’re looking at. You’ve been disbelieving of it all night: you bagged a Hollie and you thought it would really hit you when he was inside of you, having you hard in his bed. Apparently, it remained as surreal, like a trip, like a dream. Even more so as pleasure rose within you, spiking as he thrusts harder, lulling as he lazily does. And when he kisses you, you’re sure to study the taste, the movements. You never want to forget this. It’ll fuel your fantasies for the rest of your life. Most girls, they dream of being fucked by musicians. Who didn’t imagine a Beatle on occasion? There were many who probably dreamt of the Hollies. But all your dreams will merely be recalling this moment.

Because you’re not sure if he’ll see you again. You’re not sure if you’ll see him again. He’s busy and you’re the worst with keeping in contact with people. So, if this really is going to be the only time, you have to remember every little bit.

Like the look on his face when he realises he’s made you come. You lie beneath him, writhing, shaking, while he watches on, pleased and proud. It doesn’t take him much longer to announce that he’s about to climax too. He pulls out of you and wraps his hand around himself. You watch the pleasure take over his expression, the way his brow furrows and he bites his lip, then he spills over your stomach, which he goes to apologise for once the shockwaves have subsided. But, of course, you stop him.

“Don’t you dare.”

“What?”

“Apologise for anything. That was so hot.”

He smiles shyly again. How can he be shy? You roll your eyes at him, jokingly.

“Well, I think you need to get cleaned up. Would you like to take a shower with me?”

Your heart, which has already taken quite a beating and still thumps erratically in your chest, skips a beat. As if the night could not get any better. It does not take you a moment to think before you agree.

Then, as you both walk on shaky legs to the bathroom, he turns around and whispers, “I think its also far too late for you to go home. You might have to stay the night.”

“Oh no,” You feign disappointment, “that would be terrible.”

“Well, I am sorry, but I am also going to have to ask for your number.”

As though he read your mind, your scepticism in whether you’d see him again, he confirms in that moment that you’ll have to see him again. And you’re not complaining, not one little bit.