#unmoved. unbothered. uninterested.

[raineandsky]

#80

(part 1) (part 2)

tw: alcohol mention

A long day on the job usually finds the hero in the nearest bar.

Can you blame him? He spends his day punching people. He usually gets punched in return. The least he deserves is an evening to relax and think about something other than how much of a nuisance his nemesis is.

So here he is once again, ordering a pint of beer from the bartender and draping himself over a bar stool in a comfortably familiar routine. He watches idly as a band sets up on the humble stage at the front—someone fiddles with the mic stand, another with a drum kit at the back.

Other patrons are watching too, for lack of anything better to do. Some sip at their drinks like it’s part of the show. Another band member hops onto the stage to plug a guitar into the amp.

The hero’s eyes drag lazily as the person leans back upright, shaking his hair out of his face as he does and glancing out over the crowd. The hero’s heart leaps nauseatingly into his throat as he’s met with the face of the villain.

Seemingly satisfied with the congregation, the villain gets to twinging the strings on the guitar, the sound humming through the floorboards under the hero’s feet. The vibration is snaking up his legs and straight into his already anxiously clenched muscles. His knuckles are turning white on the beer glass. He’s going to shatter it if he’s not careful.

But what can he do? He’s out of uniform, off the job. The villain’s on a goddamn stage in front of a giant group of onlookers. His options are limited. His best bet is to wait it out to the end and jump on the villain when he inevitably makes his escape backstage somewhere.

The band nods to each other—guitar, drums, vocals. The singer steps up to the mic, and it shrieks in protest as she taps it testily.

“Good evening, y’all,” she opens with a drawl akin to that of an uninterested teenager. “We’re Knights of the Black Realm. This is our original song: Revenge Means Chaos.”

The guitar kicks in first. The sound is soft at first, subdued, sweet. The drum adds a rough tang to it, and by the time the singer is sweeping through the first verse the song is in full swing.

The villain’s fingers move smoothly over the strings, mischievous delight woven into his grin. The sound from his guitar is incredible, for lack of a better word—the gruff twang hovers over the fragility of the vocals, the sharp edge provided by the drums. It’s beautiful, and the hero hates it.

The song flickers into a second song like there isn’t a moment to waste. Then a third, and a fourth, and a sixth and a tenth and a fifteenth. The other patrons clearly love it, cheering and bobbing up and down to the tune. All the hero can do is sit in perfect stillness and glare hatefully.

The villain’s gaze flits over the crowd again. He scans the darkened corners near the bar this time, and his eyes lock with the hero’s from across the room.

It would’ve been romantic if the hero hadn’t been watching with barely contained disdain.

The villain looks surprised for a moment, caught off guard, before his face splits into another grin. Knowing, cocky. I’d like to see you try, it mocks. The hero scowls back—you know damn well I will.

The twentieth-something song ends with a single sinking note. The villain steps forward to whisper something to the singer, and she laughs heartily at whatever he said.

“Special request!” she announces with a giggle. The villain steps back into place with a smile. “This one’s for all the hardworkin’ heroes out there tonight, defendin’ our beautiful city. This is My Eyes Are Only On You.”

Oh, the irony. That piece of shit.

The villain’s stare is unmoving from the hero now. Another grin is slowly working its way onto his face; proud. Arrogant. Annoying.

The song is smooth, like a tune made of silk. It’s slow, unneedy, unbothered. The guitar is as effortless as ever, the villain’s rhythm no more than a gentle rock within the river of the song.

The song thankfully reaches its end, and all three members of the band are smiling—though, the hero guesses, for very different reasons.

“Thanks, y’all!” The singer seems in higher spirits than she started. “We’ll be playin’ again next week at the Lousy Farmer, and then we’ll be back here for…”

The hero tunes her out. He’s on his feet, watching the villain hastily pull cables from amps. The hero’s almost in front of the band when his nemesis cuts his losses and hops down the back of the stage, trailing wires from his guitar like confetti.

The hero positively startles. He has to go the long way, naturally—he skirts the stage, barrelling for the door leading to the bar’s back alley he knows the villain will be aiming for. The door clatters loudly off the brick wall outside, but the alley is empty. The city’s big; the moment the villain left the bar he could’ve gone anywhere.

The hero wears another scowl now as he turns back inside. Looks like he’s just found a new favourite band. Next week and the Lousy Farmer it is.

[mythvoiced]

@theimpalpable | the GBEP

---

Angels are ancient beings.

It's one of their most detrimental aspects.

They're like the Silent Generation, sticking to the pain that had defined such an early part of their youth, clinging to life with tooth and nail, refusing to give in to the passage of time.

Angels are terribly arrogant, they live far, far above humans, in every sense of the world. This is very apparent, a lot of the time. The way they choose bodies that tower, the way they prefer to float ever so slightly if their body had turned out just a little too short.

Why would it be too short, you may wonder, if angels are so poignant and aggressive about towering?

Because they think themselves so much better than humanity that what do they care to check the average height of a nation?

Sabriel would rather not count themselves among those kinds of angels.

It's not very apparent, in them, their superiority. They talk and they smile, they indulge themself in connecting with humans, they engage with them, they're not above touching them.

But isn't that arrogance, too? Entitlement? Thinking they're in the right to frown slightly as the clerk all but seems to flee out of their direct proximity? When they're handed a rag by having it smack into their unmoving palm, firm and undisturbed like a piece of diamond?

Sabriel wouldn't know.

"Malachi," they mumble out, wiping at the blood staining the inside of their hand. Do angels bleed? Sabriel has never stopped to wonder. Sabriel doesn't know. Sabriel thinks they don't.

"Malachi," they repeat, lost to the shape of the letters on their tongue, how his name dances around in his mouth.

"What did you mean when you said 'out of your own pocket'?" comes the next question. Sabriel lifts their head, there's attentiveness there still, but it's no longer shrouded by the sharpness of an angel knee-jerking into the fulfillment of their domain. The intensity in their eyes is solely intended to rip Malachi apart in questions and answers.

He feels different. The way the wind feels different, the way an ill man vibrates differently as opposed to a healthy one. He doesn't float like a human at all.

There's a lot to be said about him. Sabriel doesn't keep a toll of the personality types they encounter. The arrogance of the angel. They've stumbled upon all sorts of characters, gaining more questions than answers solely because people don't want to answer. And isn't that what is happening here as well?

Malachi retreats? And he retreats and he retreats. Sabriel finds nothing more uninteresting than themself. Nothing remarkable about them, about their voice, about their power, about their appearance - in terms of air, they take up more space than even an average angel, people breath easier when they're gone - they are what they are, a tool to their search.

Malachi.

"Clearly you aren't seeing what I am," Sabriel tilts their head to one side, smiling lightly, undisturbed, unbothered. Their eyes are mostly trained to Malachi's torso, more interesting at the moment when compared to the flare of fear? in his eyes. That little bottle, that belt, the equipment, how very fascinating.

The t-shirts are forgotten. Sabriel points at the bottle.

"Is that just regular water?

[knowltonsrangers]

Turn!Washington x reader, 20-25, take your pick!

I'm in the mood to see that man in a romantic mood

#24: attempting to find out if they are single/available.

TURN!George Washington x reader

[a/n: ooooooh okay, I love this!! I picked #24, and I did it both ways just because! this could be tied in with my chapter fic ‘scrapped’, I liked the office setting hah.]

Your hands come to clasp behind your back, walking down the hall attempting to keep in pace next to the man, though proving difficult to match his stride. Although he appears very calm, eerily so, his head is in a swirled frenzy, mind reeling.

“Washington!”

“y/n!”

You both turn, opposite ways of the hallway, you over your left shoulder, Washington keeping front, as both your names are called. To your surprise, Nathan is waving enthusiastically at the end of the hall, and Hamilton stands at the beginning, looking very much annoyed.

“Can I steal you for a bit? I need help with something,”

Nathan asks, and you are mildly overwhelmed at the disappointment that builds in your chest. Of course, you’d be willing to help Nathan with anything, but you couldn’t say you weren’t saddened to be pulled away from your time with Washington so quickly.

“That works perfectly, I need him for a good while.”

Hamilton says, and Washington sighs deeply, turning to you, unamused by the situation.

“We’ll work on it later,”

He says, and offers a nod in parting, as you do the same.

“Best of luck.”

You hum, smiling up at the man as you wave him goodbye.

As you make it back down the hall, Nathan grabs your arm gently, ushering you to his desk in an urgent manner.

“My entire computer is broken.”

He whispers, and your eyebrows raise, opening your mouth to say something along the lines of how could that even be possible—

And then you take sight of his computer.

“Don’t you have anything better to do than hide from me?”

Hamilton asks, thumbing through a file of papers after retreating back to his office.

“I was not hiding from you.”

Washington mumbles, sitting behind his desk with its newfound organization.

“Seems you’ve been very busy doing a lot of things with y/n.”

He groans, pulling back from his stack of papers, slamming his pen down.

“Must you?”

“Yes, of course. I know about your little…infatuation with them.”

Hamilton waves his hand in exaggeration, eyes moving from the papers back to the man.

“That is highly inappropriate, and—“

“Just because it’s inappropriate, doesn’t mean it isn’t true.”

Okay, he got him there. It was beginning to become a little more complicated, the fact that he longed for the time of the day spent together with you.

Would he ever admit that aloud, especially to Hamilton, he’d sooner shoot himself in the foot.

“May we move on from the subject?”

“No,”

“Why are you so obsessed with this? Surely y/n is happily taken, and it is something that I will just have to get over,”

He sighs, forehead coming to his hands, and Hamilton presses on.

“I think I have information that you’d like to hear.”

Still unmoving, he just waits for the redhead to spit it out. Maybe if he appears unbothered, then the topic will shift gears.

“I heard from Hale that they are not in a relationship.”

There goes his attempt at seeming uninterested, because his shoulders tense up, and he can’t help himself.

“Uh, how did you manage to uninstall all of the applications?”

You ask, typing away at the keyboard in a futile effort to move his computer into any semblance of working condition.

“I didn’t! I swear, I think I may have opened a bad email. When I logged on, everything was gone.”

You should be contacting IT, but in any case, what would there be to say? That his entire computer was wiped?

“So,”

Nathan leans against his desk, as you sit in his chair, now clicking pop ups as they blink open around the screen.

“Yes?”

“You and George, huh?”

You gasp, pulling away from the screen in an offended manner.

“No way! Absolutely not—!”

“There’s no denying it, y/n, he has heart-eyes for you, and you for him.”

“…does the whole office know?”

You whisper, carefully looking around to see any more of your coworkers would chime in.

“I don’t think so. I only just made the connection.”

The blonde says, and you turn back to the computer, pouting slightly as you re-download the necessary applications.

“And you just confirmed it.”

“It’s not like he’s going to do anything, and I’m sure he has a partner—“

“He is single, by the way.”

Nathan says, and you don’t make any movements.

“Stop playing matchmaker, and log into your account.”

You stand up, biting your lip as you watch him enter his password.

“Just saying, y/n. No harm in passing on office known information.”

You could faint on the spot, feeling the rosiness rise to your cheeks.

When you rejoin each others company later that day, the conversation is over before it began.

You said hello, as did he, and you went right to it.

You shuffled his papers, he signed some things, and all you could focus on was how loud your heart was beating in your ears.

“What did Nathan want?”

Washington asks, and you pause, wondering if there was any part of that interaction you could share without making him stress more.

“Got locked out of his account, nothing major.”

Thin white lie.

“How nice of you to help,”

You nod, unable to look up to meet his gaze.

Washington wishes to ask you about the information Hamilton divulged to him, but he decides it best to not mention it.

It would come up naturally, and him forcing it would not be the best move.

“Want to talk about it?”

You ask, mouth moving on its own.

“About what?”

“Oh, I’m sorry. You seem very distracted, I thought maybe Hamilton had said something that bothered you.”

He is almost amused.

“No, no.”

He waves you off, and you continue to move things around.

The tension in the air is making the situation ten times worse.

“I guess that’s it for in here. I’ll just go back to the front and work on—“

“Is everything alright?”

For as long as you’ve known him, you aren’t sure you’ve ever heard him speak so quietly.

“O-oh, yeah. Everything’s fine, why do you ask?”

Washington catches your uncomfortable expression, but does nothing about it.

“Just making sure, y/n. Do what you need.”

When you slip from his office, you are sure that the breath you just let out you were certainly holding in that entire exchange.

[magioftheseas]

Lonely Existence

KamuKoma Week Day 7: komaeda's birthday!

Summary: Kamukura's sent to give Komaeda a birthday present and spends the day with him while everyone else is out.

Rating: G

Warnings: None, really. Aside from like...language? Thanks Matsuda.

Notes: Last fic for the week! Yeeeeeeeah, I did it! Of course I included more Matsuda. MatsuKamuKoma is love and life although it’s still largely KamuKoma focused, haha. This is bittersweet fluff, I suppose?

***Alternate Ao3 Link***

Commission? Donate?

It had been as uninteresting a day as any. He was content to do nothing about it, and indeed, because it was Sunday, he predicted such would be the case. However, that did not happen.

“Hey, Kayako. Get the hell up.” A few snaps overhead. “Up, up. I know you’re actually awake, you fucking brat.”

Despite the snarling, he’s of course unbothered. His eyes do open however it is leisurely and Matsuda’s scowl deepens as it looms over him. His face is pinched up in a special kind of annoyance. Ah.

“Something happened,” he said. “Inconvenient, I presume?”

“Stupid plane bullshit. I have to go pick up some ugly bitch before they call animal control.” Matsuda sighed heavily, raking his fingers through his hair. “Someone else would’ve done it, but she’s running late and she contacted me. I’m really not in a good mood right now. I have a favor that needs to be done.”

With that, he lightly smacks Kamukura’s forehead with a wrapped up book.

“This is for Komaeda Nagito in Class 77-B. Thankfully for you, he’s the only idiot in the class still on campus because the rest of them fucked off to some photogenic resort for someone else’s birthday. He was sick so he couldn’t go with. He’s probably depressed but is going to keep on smiling like a fucking idiot so make sure this gets to him?”

“You did not strike me as the type to prepare presents, Matsuda Yasuke,” Kamukura said lowly. “Is this retribution, then?”

“Yeah, it is. He bought me something I couldn’t find anywhere else.” Matsuda rolled his eyes. “Don’t make this fucking weird. It’s only courtesy to buy something for someone in return. I know you should have some basic idea of what that is.”

“...hmph.” He pushes himself up, but takes the gift anyway. “How boring. There is no value in celebrating a day merely for one birth of many.”

“If you’re jealous then I can have you registered for your own birthday.” A pause. “Or you can take Hinata’s. It’s not like he’s really using it anymore.”

“Such trifles do not concern me.”

“Of course they don’t. Well, either way, I expect you to deliver it. Or else I’ll draw on your face while you sleep.”

“...”

“And cut your hair too, while I’m at it.”

“Understood. It will be delivered immediately.”

“Awesome.” Matsuda seemed satisfied enough, turning on his heel to head out with a pop of some joints. He stopped for a moment. “I’m not going to be back until late tonight. The train ride to the airport is obnoxiously far and the flight is probably going to get delayed again, knowing what I’m dealing with. That’s not even accounting for the other bullshit I’ll definitely get saddled with along the way. Whatever. If you get lonely or something...”

Kamukura stared at him blankly.

“Well. You could do worse. Just saying. All the same. Ciao.”

With a wave of his hand, he stepped out. Kamukura finally scoffed.

--

Such trifles did not concern him in the slightest. But it was not often he left his room. It was even less so that Matsuda Yasuke requested his services. He often only ever did what the researchers told him to do, and whenever Matsuda Yasuke told him to do anything, it was often...less than menial. Always detached.

“Stand still.”

“Don’t whine so much.”

“Relax.”

“You will accomplish many wonderful things, Kamukura Izuru-kun,” the researchers would crow.

Komaeda Nagito hadn’t believed that at all. Not in the slightest.

“Hope can’t be born in a lab,” he would say, breathily and brimming with straining emotion. “Just what were they thinking?”

The answer had been obvious. Apparent. Boring. Komaeda Nagito had just gotten more irritated with him.

Komaeda Nagito...is irritable as Matsuda Yasuke. Around myself. And no one else.

It shouldn’t matter. He doesn’t care. It’s boring. Everything is boring.

“With an attitude like that, you really aren’t going to make any friends,” Matsuda had said once, tone dull and eyes on his manga instead of Kamukura.

Boring.

“You say that but it’s human nature to be social, y’know.”

So boring.

“You can’t seriously expect me to believe you’re not at least a little lonely.”

Boring, boring, boring.

Such concerns were mere trifles. And yet, the crinkling of wrapping under his tightening grip cuts through those thoughts as if they were nothing. Kamukura lightens it as to not damage the gift, and keeps his eyes straight ahead. He walks until he sees the fluttering of birds. His pace does not quicken. He maintains a leisure stride.

Komaeda Nagito is crouched low. He has a remaining, crumpled half of melon bread in one hand, and is spreading crumbs with the other. The birds pick at them. One has nested into his hair.

“You know,” Kamukura finds himself saying. “That provides very little nutritional value.”

“Good morning to you too, Kamukura-kun,” Komaeda replies, without even looking at him. “Out for a walk on this fine day? It’s good luck, isn’t it, to have such lovely weather.”

“No.”

“Well, alright.” Komaeda’s laugh is soft, strained at edges that would’ve been indiscernible to anything less than Kamukura Izuru’s sharp ears. “I mean, I think it is. And with the rest of my class gone, it’s quiet. Relaxed. Not that I prefer being without them, but... They can be noisy.”

“Mm.” It is mildly irritating how Komaeda Nagito is willfully oblivious to the gift in Kamukura’s hands. How it has yet to be acknowledged. Kamukura twitched a little before throwing all caution to the wind and thrusting it forward. “Matsuda Yasuke asked me to give this to you.”

The birds all flee, leaving a flurry of feathers. One even gets stick in Komaeda’s hair. Komaeda, who just blinks blearily at the gift, before nodding and taking it.

“Aha. Haha.” He doesn’t sound terribly enthused, shuffling it rather hurriedly into his bag. “Matsuda-kun...so kind. Please tell him I send my highest regards. He must be quite busy today.”

“Yes. He is.”

“I see.” Komaeda nods again. “Well, then, you can get going now, Kamukura-kun.”

He says nothing to that.

“I can’t imagine that my company is terribly stimulating, so I shall not bother you further.” Komaeda finally stands, brushing himself off. “If you won’t leave, I will. You can have this spot if you want it so badly.”

“I do not want anything.” The words slip before he can stop them. And for once, a twinge is in his features. Hm. “How are you?”

Komaeda still hasn’t picked the feather from his hair. He also still hasn’t looked at him directly.

“I don’t know why you would care.”

“Of course not,” he said. “But I still asked.”

Komaeda’s lips twist before pulling into a smile.

“Fine, of course. Nothing to concern your oh so talented self with. As I said before, the weather is lovely. Atmosphere serene. My classmates are surely enjoying themselves greatly without my worthless presence to dampen their high spirits. Why would I be anything less than fine?”

One reason is obvious.

“You’re lonely.”

“Eh?” Komaeda laughs, more taken aback then amused. “What was that?”

He reaches out and swiftly plucks out the feather.

“You are lonely,” he says simply. “That much is clear. Despite how often you allow yourself to be isolated, you are still plagued by feelings of lonesomeness. How boring. How predictable.”

Komaeda blinks, eyes darting between the feather twirling around between his fingers and Kamukura’s own unmoved and stoic gaze.

Komaeda’s smile twitches; there’s a forceful tug at its corners.

“I didn’t think you cared enough to comment.” His smile widens, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “It’s human nature to get lonely. But it’s for the best. My feelings don’t matter as long as the others can shine. Nothing is more important nor as wonderful.”

“Those are quite the flimsy justifications,” he pointed out.

“Mm, I don’t expect someone like you to understand. Kamukura-kun is all cold logic and rationale.” That smile doesn’t drop even as those eyes narrow sharply. “You wouldn’t know the first thing about being human. I feel sorry for you.”

Sorry?

“It’s not like you asked to exist, after all, it was all that insolent reserve. You really are pitiful, Kamukura-kun. Nothing drives you at all.” Komaeda steps aside. “What are you even living for? I wonder if someone like you is dissatisfied even with existing. Well.” He paused. “It’s not like I’d understand how that would be like.”

Kamukura lets him brush past. But it is not long before he finds himself turning on his own heel and trailing after him. Komaeda doesn’t look back, which is expectable. He’s not the type to do so even when being followed.

Neither of them say anything.

--

“Do you understand your purpose?”

“...”

“You’re going to be the ultimate symbol of hope, Kamukura Izuru-kun!”

“Wrong. I am a tool for your disposal. A symbol of power and of influence. The product of a boastful legacy.”

“No, that’s not...”

“You cannot fool me.”

“...hah. I suppose I can’t.”

--

Komaeda Nagito busied himself with humble leisure activities. Walking, admiring the paintings and sculptures throughout campus, relaxing near the gardens, watching the frogs and turtles in the pond, checking out books at the library, sitting by the windows and listening to people practicing in the music room. It was much, as if Komaeda Nagito were restless, but nothing eventful occurred.

Even when Komaeda Nagito got himself coffee from the vending machine, there was a single can dispensed. Komaeda Nagito paused at this, and purchased another.

“Here,” he huffed, tossing it to Kamukura. “You must get thirsty, too.”

“I am as sustained the necessary amount,” was the reply. “This is unnecessary.”

“Aah, is that so?” Komaeda pops open the can, lashes lowering over his unimpressed stare. “Well, I suppose I shouldn’t have expected any different.”

He tilts his head back as he drinks. And he downs it quickly, Adam’s apple bobbling with each swallow.

Kamukura still opens and sips from his own can. It’s surprisingly bitter, and yet his expression gives nothing away. As per usual.

“You know,” Komaeda says. “Even though you have every talent, making the possibilities endless, it feels like even less happens when you’re around.” He chuckles, swirling around his drink. “Is that just your luck?”

“It could very well be, I suppose.”

How boring. Even though Komaeda Nagito’s life is plagued by extremities, they are circumvented by my presence alone. That really is so...

“Boring...”

“It is, but for someone like me you could call it a blessing,” Komaeda murmured. “To have a mundane day pass by, it’s akin to having a normal life, farcical and fleeting as it may be.”

“How dull it must be to long for normalcy,” Kamukura hummed. “You really are a boring person.”

“It was nice,” Komaeda said, firmer than before. “Even if it was because of you. Even if it’s you, I’m still...thankful, Kamukura-kun.”

He hmphed at that, but Komaeda kept talking.

“Living a normal life together really wouldn’t be so bad. Simply being allowed to exist without being excessively punished and rewarded for it—do you think that’s a privilege?”

“A privilege...” The thought does give him pause. He mulls it over, and then, he finds he has no answer. “What a thing to ask.”

“I guess it’s pretty strange to wonder, especially if you’re going to Hope’s Peak,” Komaeda laughed. “But when you weren’t talking, I almost could’ve pretended we were friends and that was even stranger...”

“...because you are lonely.”

“Perhaps. I don’t really want to think about it. My mind goes haywire easily.” He finishes up his coffee. “But, all the same, I don’t really feel lonely right now.”

“Because I am here.”

Komaeda just laughs.

“Perhaps, perhaps. Is it the same for you, Kamukura-kun?”

Is it?

He doesn’t think; the answer that forms is immediate.

“It is not.”

It is immediate—and distasteful.

“Aha, understandable.” Komaeda hurriedly looks away, and his ears are red. “Someone like me makes for poor company.”

“It is not because of you.” Kamukura frowns. “That much I am certain of.”

Komaeda laughs again, but this time the sound is strained. Anxious. It strikes an unpleasant cord.

“I think...” The words trail off into a hard swallow. “I’m going back to my dorm, to open Matsuda-kun’s present and take a look at it.”

Komaeda almost stumbles when he steps away, pausing only to toss his empty can. He glances over his shoulder, but it’s only slightly, only so that he can catch the smallest of glimpses of Kamukura in his glassy gaze. He gives a courteous wave and a barely perceptible smile.

“I’ll see you, Kamukura-kun. Perhaps.”

“Perhaps,” he merely echoed.

Komaeda practically scurried away after that. Kamukura sees him nearly stumble, but he does not fall. He watches until the other is gone. He waits until he can no longer hear that quickened heartbeat without focusing, and downs the rest of his coffee.

It really is bitter.

--

“You’re really miserable, huh? Well, it’s not any of my concern, but...”

“You are commenting, nonetheless.”

“Yeah. Suppose I am.” Matsuda rolled his eyes. “Maybe because it pisses me off a little.”

There’s nothing to say to that.

“Maybe you should just try and go out more often, it’s not like you’re unable to leave,” Matsuda huffs. “If you just did—anything—you’d be miles better than you are now.”

“There is no point in doing anything when the results yielded are predictable and boring.”

“Factually wrong, dumbass. You know that. So what the hell are you so stubborn about?”

He does not answer that either.

“Geez, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say that you just wanted to remain inhuman and miserable. Or maybe you’re afraid.”

“That is...” He stops himself. “False.”

“Huh.” Matsuda whistled. “All that talent—and you’d think you’d be a better fucking liar.”

--

He finds himself knocking on the door. The back of his fist strikes it thrice, all intervals in-between the same length. He’s aware that it’s fairly recent from the coat of paint. He would not be surprised if Komaeda Nagito had lost a door to bad luck.

“Mm? Coming.” It’s a soft and muffled call. It does not take long for the door to creak open, and though Komaeda Nagito appears with a smile, it falls in confusion. “Kamukura-kun? It’s...barely into sunset.”

“You were born around this time, correct?” he asks. Komaeda raises a brow.

“I wouldn’t...know if I was.”

“You were. So, then, take this. For your birth.” He holds out the small box, wrapped in a ribbon. “It is a cake. It should be suited to your tastes.”

Komaeda takes it, eyes wide.

“Aha... Haha... Um. Am I dreaming?”

“No. You are not.” He shakes his head. “It is most certainly not a dream.” He frowns. “Do you not want it?”

He can see how conflicted and how twisted Komaeda’s expression gets. How his eyes crinkle at the edges and are, albeit briefly, on the brink of tears. Tears that could have been either joy or grief. Komaeda’s emotions swung wildly, as one would expect from someone who lived so tumultuously.

And yet, this person was still standing, even as his knees quaked.

“You do not have to eat it right away,” Kamukura says, perhaps so that Komaeda perks rather than collapses. “However it will deteriorate in a matter of time. Please do enjoy it before then.”

“I... Mm.” Komaeda nodded quickly, lips pressed tightly together. “O-Okay. Thank you, Kamukura-kun.”

“It is nothing.” And yet, it felt so strangely significant. How strange. So strange. “I shall be seeing you.”

Komaeda tugs on his sleeve before he can turn. Kamukura stares, both at his trembling, pitiful grip, and the twitching, twisting expression. Slowly, it morphed from troubled to—something else.

“Thank you, Kamukura-kun.”

It wasn’t a smile. It wasn’t a frown either. All it was—was heartrendingly sincere.

“Thank you... Really.” He squeezes that small bit of fabric of Kamukura’s sleeve before pulling away. Just like that, he gives an easy smile that conveyed nothing at all. “I’ll be seeing you. Tell Matsuda-kun that the book was wonderful. Well. I’ll tell him that, too, next time I see him, haha.”

Kamukura only nods.

“See you.”

“See you!”

He leaves on that rather discordant note.

--

When he returns to his room, there is not much else to do besides sit there on the bed and mull.

Komaeda Nagito...really is...

His eyes fall shut as the thought itself trails off into nothing. Nothing but quiet. Time passes, and there’s a knock on the door.

It’s well past midnight. Without even waiting for an answer, Matsuda Yasuke pushes his way in, yawning inelegantly.

“Yoo... Letting you know I didn’t somehow die.”

“I would have been aware either way,” was the blank response. Under the dull light, Matsuda rubs his eyes blearily. Another yawn, and Matsuda nods a few times.

“Right, right... Of course... Jackass.” Matsuda grumbles, and he straightens up. “How was Komaeda?”

“He liked his gift. He had a satisfactory day.” It’s dully spoken, but the words are strangely weighted. “I suppose—even one who exists miserably can find happiness in living.”

“Yeah? That’s—wild to hear you say. Mm... Wonder if I’m dreaming... Maybe I really did die.”

In the blink of an eye, Kamukura stood up and steadied him, keeping him from swaying until he toppled over.

“You should rest as well. I suspect—Komaeda Nagito will be happier to see you in higher spirits, Matsuda Yasuke.”

“Dooon’t tell me what to do,” Matsuda slurred. “But fiiiiine. See if I ever check on you out of worry again. At least you were nice to the kid on his birthday. I gueeeeeess.”

He thinks about Komaeda Nagito and that worthless smile. But he also thinks about Komaeda Nagito and his innocent gaze.

“I suppose,” he echoed. “I suppose...”

Matsuda had already dozed off. Funny, that. Kamukura wondered if Komaeda Nagito was resting as well—if he was sleeping peacefully. If he was lonely.

I want to see him.

What a strange, unsettling thought that was.

That this person exists is—

Kamukura pauses, and shakes his head, helping Matsuda to bed.

I suppose it isn’t boring.

[istheresomebodywhocanimagine]

The Wrath of Mercury

anonymous said: Freddie x Trekkie!Reader (ask the Star Trek fandom if you need help, we’re nice)

(a/n: it’s been a HOT MINUTE since i’ve seen wrath of khan - which, btw, if you haven’t, WATCH IT. best ST movie imo - so excuse me if i got anything off hehe. this is kind of a short imagine for me, but i didnt want to bore anyone w the details of star trek in case they’re not a fan!!! and im tired af from work so this is the best i could do. also, gif credits to @imladrs​ tysm ily)

Freddie had never been known to let anyone deter him when he had his mind made up on something. He was stubborn, to a fault, and you appreciated him for that. It was a good quality to have in his line of work, which was cutthroat at best.

But sometimes, it really pissed you off.

“Freddie, please just watch the movie with me!” you begged, tugging on his hand as he tried to rise off the couch. He sighed and stood still, waiting for you to stop pulling on his arm.

You’d tricked him into having a movie night with you instead of going out, and you didn’t tell him that you’d be watching The Wrath of Khan until you’d already started the movie. You hadn’t seen it because you’d been on tour with him when it had been released, so you’d managed to snag a copy of it and now here you were, pleading with him to just sit down and watch it with you.

“I don’t want to watch it, Y/N, you know how much the one a few years ago bored me,” he reminded you, his eyebrow raising as you pouted at him and gave him the saddest puppy dog eyes you could manage. His cigarette hung out of his other hand loosely, almost threatening to fall as he furrowed his eyebrows at you. “Don’t give me that look, you litt-“

“Fred! Just a couple hours, that’s all I’m asking.”

He toyed with the idea, knowing that he’d never hear the end of it if he said no, but also really not wanting to watch another uninteresting movie about living spaceships and William Shatner. It was Brian’s territory, all this space stuff, and he wasn’t a fan. “Let me think about it,” he murmured, mulling over the idea as he took another drag.

But, you ended up making up his mind for him when you kissed his knuckles and then rested your head against his hand. “Fred, please,” you whined softly, pressing your cheek against the back of his hand and looking up at him through your lashes.

“Damn you,” he muttered, trying not to smile as he plopped back down on the couch and put out his cigarette in the ashtray. You were fatally adorable when you gave him that look, and you knew it. As annoyed as he was trying to act, he still wrapped his arm around you and pulled you close when you snuggled up to his side, and he rested his head on yours. “Now, is this going to be as terrible as the last one?” he asked, making you giggle.

“I don’t know, Fred,” you quickly replied, wrapping your arms around his torso and staring intently at the screen.

“Because if it is, I’m leaving, I’m just saying that now. Star Trek is Brian’s favorite, not mine,” he continued, huffing softly and appearing slightly irritated that he was actually watching this right now. “God, I bet I hate this. You really like this?”

“My friends said it was the best movie they’d seen in a while. Brian raved about it. Now hush, Fred.” Kirk was leading some trainees in a battle simulation, and you were interested to see where this movie was headed. You hadn’t heard anything about what it was like besides some friends telling you it was incredible, so you were excited to watch and hoped that Freddie would keep his mouth shut. He did, at least for a while – after a certain point, he was bound to be curious.

“Who’s that, darling?” Freddie asked when Khan appeared on screen, and you rolled your eyes and didn’t answer. As if on cue, two seconds later, Chekov said his name, and Freddie made a noise of acknowledgement as he played with the hem of your shirt absentmindedly. He hated to admit it, but this movie was already loads better than the 1979 one, and he was way more entertained than he’d expected to be.

The questions did stay to a minimum, and you didn’t say it out loud, but you knew Freddie’s feigned apathetic stance towards the movie was getting harder and harder for him to pull off. He was actually invested, and you knew it, which made you grin as you watched. His grip on your shirt got tighter as Khan fired at the Enterprise, and remained tight throughout the entirety of that scene.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” he breathed out once the Reliant retreated, looking at you. “What’s going to happen?”

You laughed and reached up to pat his cheek gently, shrugging before looking back at the screen. “I told you love, I haven’t seen this movie yet! I’m as clueless as you. Now, hush.”

He whined, clinging onto your shirt as he scooted closer. “I tell you what, stop telling me to hush. I’m a grown man.”

“And you’re talking like a child in a movie theater, dear,” you reminded him, making it his turn to pout. You laughed at the insulted look on his face, and quickly kissed him on the cheek, then turned your eyes back to the screen again. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it. You’re not like a child.”

But your words fell on deaf ears, for he was already focused on the movie again, his eyes glazed over. And now he was so into it, that he didn’t speak again until you neared the end of the Mutara Nebula battle.

“What in the bloody hell was that?!” he exclaimed, sitting upright whenever Spock nerve pinched McCoy and entered the engine room.

“Freddie, you’re spoiling it!” you laughed, pulling him back down to your level and wrapping an arm around his shoulders, then placing your hand over his mouth. “I’m going to have to pinch you like that if you don’t shut it!”

Freddie replied, but it was incoherent and muffled against your hand, so you ignored him as you both watched Spock bring the power back to function. Freddie didn’t realize just how serious that was until he realized Kirk was talking to a dying Spock, and you couldn’t help but tear up a bit at the scene. Leonard Nimoy’s character always held a special place in your heart, so logical, so cool, that you were somewhat devastated by this happening.

And you didn’t realize Freddie was too, until one of his tears hit the top of your hand during Spock’s funeral, and you looked up to see he was full on crying, just as Saavik was. “Fred,” you gasped, letting go of his mouth and staring in disbelief as he sniffled and wiped away his tears quickly, refusing to look at you.

“What? Leave me alone,” he quickly muttered, watching the screen and holding back further tears as he pretended to be unbothered. You saw the reflection of Spock’s coffin in Freddie’s watery eyes, and you smiled widely as you saw him shed another tear as it landed on Genesis. “Oh, fuck me,” he finally whispered, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes and laying face down in your lap as you laughed in pure happiness.

“You liked it!” you cheered, running your hand over his hair and petting it gently as he laid on your lap, unmoving. “You liked it, you liked it, you bloody liked it!”

He groaned in agony as you cheered, knowing you’d been right all along, and refused to sit up as you grinned ear to ear. “Ugh, stop, fuck off and die,” was all you could get in response, and that just made you laugh harder because you knew he meant it in the most affectionate way. He pressed a quick peck of a kiss to the top of your thigh right after, confirming your assumption as his mustache scratched against your skin.

“Freddieeeee,” you drawled out in a singsong voice, crawling off the couch and kneeling in front of it. He laid there limply, his flushed face squished against the couch and dark eyes bloodshot from the crying, and the sight was enough to make your heart soften as you reached up to cup his cheek gently. “Was it good, love?” you asked, your voice softer now that you’d gotten the gloating out of your system.

“Yeah,” he croaked out, sniffling again and rubbing his eyes. “Yeah, it was really good. I quite liked it.”

The same grin reappeared on your face, and Freddie rolled his eyes as he realized you were about to cheer again. Laying on the floor next to the couch, you threw your arms up in the air in triumph. “Woo! What a rush.”

“Oh, you’re such a gracious winner, love,” Freddie grumbled, crawling off the couch to lay next to you. You scooted over, letting the gracious winner in you make space for the poor man who’d just lost face in front of you. But there was a ghost of a smile playing at Freddie’s lips, and he pressed a kiss to your shoulder before pinning you down and tickling you, laughing as you squealed and wriggled around, making futile attempts to escape his wrath. “But guess what? I’m a sore loser!

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[lilmajorshawty]

do you have any tips on guessing someone's rising sign? 😭

Aries rising: they are usually intimating at first and have a kind of electric vibe about them! They feel so warm and often have rugged and ruddy features about them! Sometimes they have noticeable scars in some way and have something distinctive about their hair or face and have an easy time blushing! They the ones who walk upright and sort of with a primitive stride! They’re pretty dynamic and energetic people as well and have a unmistakable youth about them! They can be a bit overwhelming and come on strong! Not in a bad way either! They just leave an impression. (Athletic looking and have sort of built bodies)

Taurus rising: they feel so warm and inviting! They have this aloof and unfocused look in their eyes and seem a bit out of touch. They’re very earthy and have a sensuous looking bodies(curvy and or thic in some way even if they’re more lean style they have a sort of curvy aspect to them usually the buttocks and or thighs) they have long flowing hair and at times it’s straight! They usually have thick necks too and aren’t the types to “side eye” they usually move there whole heads when they’re looking at something and can be a bit like a bull when they stride! They’re very pleasant! And have such a sweet vibe even if they have a less then easy going sun sign or moon. They are super stubborn and are the types to get possessive! You usually catch them in comfy clothes and sweats at first and they might be the types that you notice there “possessions” first.

Gemini rising: very mischievous! They have a devilish and childlike smirk! They tend to be fast moving and fast walkers! You’ll point them out by the sound of their voices! Aha they’re quite the talkers! But one way to distinguish them is like most air risings they’re not the most talkative people when you first meet them! They can be standoffish and even shy. They have an easy time getting things done and can be quietly intellectual! The ones you don’t see doing any work in school but somewhere somehow maintain all A’s and B’s. They are rather skinny and often have even if they’re thick longher necks! They have distracted eyes and tend to look around at the “big picture” so to speak! They look around their whole environment and often do so any time they’re walking into a new place or area for the first time! They have to take it in! They often look bored and anxious as if they’re ready for shit to hit the fan at a moments notice.

Cancer rising: quite-Quite-QUITE! They usually are deafly silent and don’t really come across as the in your face type of energy upon first meeting them. You feel almost at peace and comfortable in their presence! They have a nurturing and almost motherly energy upon meeting them. They’re eyes are often round and watery as if they could cry with a single gesture. They usually avoid eye contact unless they know you better and can have a disengaged presence about them. It’s often hard to gauge there personality as the moon tends to hide it. They are paler in there complexion and usually have soft and fragile skin. There limbs are lanky and they’re stomachs always have something that stands out about them! Be it a beer belly or a six pack there’s always something unique about it. They usually walk with a small leap and fro movement and in times of distress or confusion walk side to side in a crab like motion. These are usually the people who seem uncomfortable and off to the side of a room.

Leo rising: one word! EGO okay so with this rising you can feel them similarly to cancer but due to their radiant energy and the ego that comes with it! You can feel they’re ego without them even uttering a word. It’s the way they walk. Head held high. Arms swinging with entitlement and prestige. The unbothered looks here and there and the complete level of situational comfort wherever they are. They seem unmoved and rather content in whatever surrounding they find themselves in and seem to stake their owner ship of their surroundings like a lion. People are often going to notice them for better or worse and usually remember them. They’re the talk of the town and the one everyone knows. Even if they’re walking into a Walmart-people notice them. They have a warmth about them and can seem very open and exciting upon first meeting them! They’re the cool guy or gal who runs at the beat of there own horn! They usually have bright patterns on or a loud color that says “I’m here” a Sagittarius sun Scorpio moon I know who has his rising in this sign wears crimson reds and dark blacks with occasional patterned blue shirts and graphic tees. These natives are usually “watching” almost like a lion! They’re often skimming the room and occasionally staring folks down like prey.

Virgo rising: observant. They can be hard to sense much like Pisces they’re almost apart of their surroundings and blend right in. They can seem to themselves at first glance and usually seem off somewhere “mentally” and often don’t really seem “there” they have very petite frames and small features no matter there size! They have very “delicate” looking bodies and present themselves in a peaceful way! They often move quickly and can be gone before you even had enough time to process there existence! They’re very kind souls and often keep there distance when you first meet them! They cloak themselves in a mask of manners and politeness but often remain a level of space between them and you during such interactions. They’re the people whom walk into the room scanning it quickly as if they’re making a mental note of the characters involved.

Libra rising: charming and socially mastered. These people often have a almost godlike capability when it comes to the masses. Unless they’re an afflicted libra rising they tend to be seen in the crowd or with others. They thrive on interactions with others and often are well liked by there peers and those whom they meet. They have a very “perfect” type of vibe and can seem like ken doll and Barbie and I mean this in the nicest way! They just have very compartilized movements that seem to always fit together. They often have very fitting features in regards to them and most people say this is a very beautiful rising! I say all risings are beautiful! But I will say libra risings have a sensual type of look and can be a bit curvy similarly to Taurus risings! Oh and elf ears is a thing here aha! You’ll notice them immediately from their smiles

Scorpio rising: intense. Extremely mysterious energy and may keep you guessing. They can seem private and uninterested in their immediate environment. They usually have a strong glare and have sharp eye contact. They are usually tan skinned no matter what there race is and can have oily skin. Hair is curly. Like always..always curly. Jk aha but no seriously a lot of them and water signs in the Pluto decan tend to have curly hair. They also are magnetic no matter what they look like they have this captivating energy that always makes you do a double take. They also have a gait in their walk and can walk in a bowl-legged manner! As if there swinging their imaginary tail. They also have this natural sexual energy about them that is just there no matter what they’re wearing. They can seem blunt and unapproachable at first and can be hard to really “get to know” you’ll usually see them alone and separated from the group-there often the lone wolf and the ones who always make eye contact.

Sagittarius rising: they often have a very happy and infectious energy about them! They’re like always happy and optimistic when you meet them and have a quirky and bouncy personality. They often are laid back and have a chill and go with the flow attitude upon meeting them. They keep things light and avoid any heavy stuff. They also are the types to dip if things get weird or boring to soon. Fairly open people who sometimes slip to much information about themselves upon first meeting them. They’re easy to distract and even harder to reel back in! When they’re in a crowd they don’t know what to do with themselves and get overstimulated! They put on quite the show when a crowd is around and can be hard to settle down. They come across as nomadic and traveler types and can have a old time reggae feel about them. They have wide hips and can also be curvy and look good with weight! There bodies tend to naturally curve off towards their lower body. You’ll usually see them falling and or messing with their hair or body in some way!

Capricorn rising: they are super easy to spot. They look very serious even if they’re the most lighthearted person on earth they’ll have an intense and serious gaze about them when there face is in a rest position. They have one hell of a testing bitch face be it guy or gal. They have a beautifully crafted face and can have prominate boney features. They also have teeth that are very noticeable in a way and often have beautiful smiles. They can be tall but the women are usually short to medium height while the men are usually tall. They tend to walk slow from place to place and separate themselves quite a bit. They have a cold and almost scary energy about them when meeting them and can seem extremely disappointed in the people and setting that their in even when it’s not how they’re feeling! You often see these people in the middle of a task or looking down or straight ahead

Aquarius rising: these are hard to spot! But these natives are actually either super talkative or super quite there is not inbetween! The talkative ones are fast and shift quite a bit! They travel with a lot of restless energy and can seem on to the next topic before it’s even happened! The quite ones are pleasant and peaceful but mostly to themselves and try to avoid prolonged interactions that they don’t have to have. Both are aloof and seem a bit eccentric. There is an innovative and rebellious air to them and they can have odd style or even hair in some way. Since Uranus is an unusual planet these natives can and tend to look far out or different in some way like something unlike anything on this planet. You’ll often catch them laughing and giggling! They love to laugh and often tend to be laughing at what is in front of them or something they’re remembering

Pisces rising: unlike the other water sign risings although these natives are quite they also have an easy and flowing energy about them. You’ll often feel understood the moment you’re in their presence! They often seem older then they are on a mental level and can be very wise upon meeting them! There is a deep level of sensitivity and compassion they exude that makes you want to be careful and watchful in their presence of what you do and say. They have watery eyes like cancer and can seem very innocent and lost even if that’s not how they are. They are very elusive and hard to really get a grasp on. They tend to glide through the world and can feel like energy rather then an actual person. They come and go like a puff of smoke. You’ll usually see them looking like they’re dreaming in some way! These are the people you say hi to or try to talk to that take a minute or two to register what’s going on!

[idkbut]

As Good as Gone

It was said that Saturn ruled civility.

When Saturn fell from the sky, it was as if the world came softly out of focus. The trees outside my window lost their clear-cut edges. Their leaves multiplied the way objects do through crossed eyes. Once-solid boundaries began overlapping like railways branching into other worlds.

Nehal called me in tears:

“I have to come home.”

“So come.”

Nehal had been in Egypt. Sisi was dead and Cairo was a war zone. We had not seen one another in years, yet somehow I was not surprised by the call. Distinctions were less clear now, and I couldn’t quite remember where we’d left off.

We didn’t speak about what had been going on. Nor did we ignore it. We simply spoke of how to proceed, and she reminded me that my greatest virtue had always been charity. I didn’t dare tell her that virtue, too, had been lost. We agreed to take our chances, for things had changed–the world had changed: that neatly fragile scaffolding that told us our place in it was no longer there for us.

So it made sense to reunite.

“How are your parents?” I asked.

The voice I heard was an echo.

“Alive.”

*****

It was said that Jupiter ruled ideas.

When Jupiter fell from the sky, things ceased to carry any weight. The motivation underpinning my actions wavered. I ate with the slow passivity of someone who denies the need for sustenance. One who doubts his own existence is biological in origin. I read newspapers and gleaned nothing of meaning. The world was crumbling around us and all that mattered was that I was distinctly uninterested in any of it.

Nehal and I were living in the country, where we kept some goats that had wandered there unknowingly. Nehal used chicken wire to build a fence, but they showed no intention of leaving even if we had let them. We gave them what little water we could spare, and they repaid us with their inquisitiveness, the very asset I had newly lost.

Nehal would wake before me, opening the window and letting the chorus of birds rouse me from sleep. That day I woke slowly, the warm afternoon air laid over me like a blanket, the birds long since quiet. Nehal looked up from her reading.

“I let you sleep,” she said sweetly.

“I must have needed it.”

I saw the paper in her lap and wondered if she could make sense of all the talk about war and revolution, of which Egypt had only been the start. Staring out the window, I tried to recognize the patterns in the leaves. For the first time, I forgot what it was about nature that had inspired me in the first place.

Not long after, I gave up my work at the university and we ditched our plans of moving to the city. I didn’t understand why, and I didn’t know who to ask.

****

It was said that Mars ruled passion, and when Mars fell from the sky it felt like a vital fire had gone out. In the sulky breeze that remained, hope really did seem to have vanished. Every move I made took concentrated effort. Effort that I didn’t have.

Nehal spoke of going back to Egypt to see her parents. They would be alone now, and there wouldn’t be much more time. There was a red glow in the air when she spoke of such things, as if the sun and sand had conjured themselves up from her imagination.

Whatever wars had been started had at last been settled, and the world was not in shambles after all. In fact, for once it seemed we were at peace. But something fettered us to where we were. Me to this place; her to me. Leaving was no longer an option.

Meanwhile, I could almost barely conceive of her parents, out there so far away. As if being anywhere out of immediate range made something unobtainable and therefore unreal.

At night we shifted through the television stations and there was nothing. No news. No sports. No entertainment. So instead we lay and watched the sky, night after long night, watching the partition fade as the lights blinked off one by one.

“Is the Earth spinning faster?” Nehal asked.

“Unlikely,” I said. “The days are no shorter.”

“But if the clocks are simply moving slower . . .”

“It is impossible,” I said, not knowing if it was the truth or not.

***

It was said that Venus ruled love, so when Venus fell from the sky I wept. I knew my tears were worthless, because I no longer loved Nehal, and because she must no longer have loved me. Still, she was the only thing I had, and therefore the only thing left to mourn.

It is strange thing to lose the ability to love. I felt its absence inside of me like the smoke that escapes when a candle is blown out, wispy and indistinct.

Without venery to bind us, we were cautious, like two different species of animal made to live in the same small cage. But over time we began talking, first out of necessity, then out of whimsy, and with amazement we discovered we were able to talk to one another freely, unbothered by the constraints that bound us before. Suddenly a certain effortlessness pervaded everything, and a new bond emerged. Its basis was conversation.

“Tell me a story,” she said one night.

“I don’t know any.”

“Then I will tell you one. Sit.”

The earth felt cold and porous beneath me, less solid than I remembered. I fixed my attention on her as she began:

“There was a professor who always told her class about a colony of ants. She traveled all across the world and she taught many people, and she always taught this lesson first. The ants don’t speak, she would say, but they still communicate. They still act and accomplish and even thrive. The colony will send signals within itself; it will form groups to take on specific tasks; it will even make decisions. But to all of this, the ants themselves are oblivious. To any single ant, the activity of the colony is not only irrelevant, it is not real. An ant is simply an ant.

“This professor was a professor of many things, and always she used this same lesson, no matter the subject. A lesson in biology. A lesson in evolution. Or computer systems. Perhaps even sociology, economics. An ant is just an ant, she would say. And then she would ask: What does an ant see when it looks up?”

She punctuated the end of her story with a quizzical look, so I looked up. The sky above looked like black glass. There was almost nothing in it.

“It’s not just the planets leaving,” I said. “It’s the stars, too.”

“I know,” she said, lowering her head as if it were somehow her fault.

Within a week, the goats had died. Nehal said that it had happened suddenly and everywhere at once. As she did, the air around her gave a stir, and I saw the burnt glow that told me her thoughts were far away. She did not mention her parents, so we gave the goats a funeral instead. I thought briefly of the university, where there were telescopes directed at every corner of the sky, and I wondered who was looking through them now.

**

Mercury, it was said, ruled communication, and when Mercury fell from the sky, the birds no longer sang. I listened to music and it left me unmoved, unsure of how to feel. The newspapers stopped reporting, and worse, Nehal and I stopped talking.

All that was left to do was worship her.

She moved silently under the moonlight, and somehow her wisdom appeared to have grown. Though I could not speak, I still showed her my devotion, accompanying her out into the cold, silently praying as her body warmed the air around us both.

For all I knew we could have been the only two left in the world.

*

The moon was the last to go.

When the sun went down we took inventory of the sky, and we found nothing left at all. The night itself seemed unending, like the very sky it contained. With no light and no motion to measure by, nothing to guide our way, there was a stillness surrounding us that was eternal and unafraid. Seeing the sun again was no longer a guarantee. And if it never rose again, then perhaps we would be better off for it. Still, I wished that it had taken us with to the other side. Or that it had fallen long ago, to spare us from all of this. I wished to see it one last time. But that didn’t matter; for tonight, it was as good as gone. As Good as Gone was the first place winner of The Penmen Review’s 2016 Fall Fiction competition, and can be seen here.