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pinkoptics · 3 years

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Cherik ‘Fallen Angel’ Fic

Part 2 (of Chapter 1)

Find Part 1 (of Chapter 1) here.

Charles is an angel. He loves Erik. He saves Erik. God takes issue with that. Hilarity and adorableness (with a smidge of angst) ensues. In this part, protective!Erik makes an appearance at the hospital.

“I don’t know what his last name is!” Erik growled at the nurse, just barely managing to hold back the ‘fucks’ he wanted to pepper the sentence with. “I wasn’t exactly trying to get all of his info while he was bleeding to death on me.”

Erik released them in his mind— Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. She’s just doing her job. She’s just doing her job. Don’t strangle her with metal.

“I told you,” Erik gritted his teeth and repeated a variation of the same combination of sentences he had already uttered twice. “I was crossing the street. The car barrelled through the red light. He jumped in and saved my life. I tried to return the favour. His name is Charles. He’s cute. I promised to take him to dinner. That’s all I know and that’s as far as we got before he passed out.”

How was Charles? Was he okay?

It didn’t seem like he could be. It had looked like so much fucking blood. The utterly insane things the man had said (“You should know you’re beautiful. Before I leave this mortal realm, I want you to know that”). Those spectacularly bright blue eyes fading to a frightening dullness. Not that Erik knew anything about anything medical, but none of that had seemed promising. So, not only was this nurse annoying as all fuck, she was stonewalling him. They wouldn’t tell him a goddamned thing because he wasn’t Charles’ next of kin. No one, in fact, knew if he had any next of kin in New York because he didn’t have a wallet, ID or phone on him. This was why the nurse was presently grilling him for information he did. not. have. They hadn’t let him ride in the ambulance, so he’d taken a cab and prayed that the ambulance had made a hell of a lot better time than he had. The only reason they were talking to him at all was because he had been there, had a name, a first name, and that was it.

The swinging doors opened and a woman in scrubs emerged. Erik nearly lunged.

“Are you Erik?”

“Yes.”

“He’s asking for you. I don’t want to let you in at all, but I don’t think we’re going to be able to start anything beyond emergency treatment until he talks to you.”

Asking meant conscious. Living. Thank fuck. The relief was powerful and nearly knocked him on his ass. Later, when he wasn’t teeming with barely contained frustration, and desperately trying to ascertain just how okay Charles was or wasn’t, he might spare a moment to think about how unexpected it was to be so powerfully moved by a stranger (a cute stranger who’d saved his life, granted), but not now.

“How is he?”

“He lost some blood, will need stitches on his arm and he has a few fractured ribs, but he’s stable. He’s going to be fine. After he stops trying to get out of bed to talk to you, we might actually be able to treat those things with something other than bandages.”

If Erik had thought the first wave of relief was powerful, he was not prepared at all for the second.

She sighed deeply and gestured to the double doors from which she had emerged. “This way.”

He followed her a short way down the hall, nearly stepping on her heels each step of the way. She stopped so abruptly before they entered the room that Erik nearly ran straight into her back.

“I should warn you that he’s... well, you’ve both been through a trauma. The mind processes such things in all sorts of ways. If he doesn’t seem... ‘all there’ don’t be overly concerned. Play along, don’t distress him further.”

Charles certainly hadn’t been ‘all there’ at the scene of the accident. His bizarre last words kept spinning through Erik’s head at random intervals— you are so loved. On their own, they were strange enough, but the reverence of Charles’ tone had sunk the words into Erik’s bones like a telepath projecting the emotion behind what they were saying. He hadn’t heard the words, he’d felt the words. Even if Charles was a telepath, it didn’t make them make anymore sense. More forthcoming then... he nodded at the doctor.

“You’re here!” Charles beamed at him from his sitting position on the hospital bed, looking much happier than anyone had any right to be in his situation. “And, you look well. Are you well?”

Charles did too, relatively speaking. He was a little pale, a little bruised but nowhere close to as bad as Erik had expected. Though the car had clipped him as he’d tackled Erik out of the way, it seemed to have been a case of looking much worse than it was at the scene. Small miracles.

“I’m fine.” Fine enough, at any rate. Like Charles, he was understandably bruised, and it was probably going to hurt more in the morning, but his suit had taken the harder beating. Between contact with the pavement and Charles’ blood, there would be no saving it, not that that mattered in the slightest. “You’re the one who was bleeding out all over me. How are you?”

Erik was sitting at his bedside now, the doctor presumably hovering in the background for all Erik’s attention was on Charles. The man in question blinked, cocking his head slightly to the side and giving Erik’s question a more thorough consideration than Erik would have thought necessary.

“I really don’t know,” he finally answered. Charles stretched his injured arm out in front of him, now bandaged (if not stitched) and looked at it with a plainly perplexed expression. “I’ve never been hurt before you know. It’s curious... interesting, but I don’t at all recommend it.”

“You were hit by a car.” Erik couldn’t help but be amused. Perplexed Charles was endearing. “Not something that happens to a person every day.”

“Quite.” Charles conceded the point. He went from staring at his arm to deliberately poking his own rib cage, and subsequently wincing. “You’re all very fragile, you know. So much could kill you every single minute of your life and yet so many of you manage to survive until old age. How do you do it? I’ve only just arrived and I’ve already nearly died.”

He turned his focus from his ribs to Erik and genuinely looked as though he were waiting for a response. Erik opened his mouth and then closed it. Despite the doctor’s suggestion to ‘play along’ he didn’t have one. Erik decided to change course.

“The hospital needs your personal information— last name, address, insurance.”

“Oh, well, that’s easy enough. I don’t have a last name. Just Charles. Or an address for that matter. I feel it’s unlikely my former profession came with any benefits.” Charles suddenly laughed. “That’s not true. It absolutely had many benefits, but certainly not State Farm. Besides, I’m no longer working for Him.”

The emphasis on the last word was... odd. Was Erik supposed to know who he was?

“I was... goodness. I was fired I suppose. Fired. That means I’m—I’m unemployed. For the first time in a millennia, I’m... on the pogey!” He laughed a little harder, the edge of hysteria he’d had at the scene worming its way back in. “Wait, no, you don’t say that anymore, do you?”

Pogey?

“Oh you look so confused. I apologize. It’s a Canadian phrase come to think. Or it used to be, a century ago.”

Shit.

Had Charles hit his head? Was this some kind of bizarre amnesia? The doctor hadn’t mentioned either possibility but... Erik side-stepped again.“How about family? Is there someone I can call and let them know you’re here? Maybe they can provide your information?”

The shift in Charles’ expression and demeanour was so abrupt and dramatic that Erik’s gut clenched. The stunning blue eyes that had stared up at him with such naked concern and relief, took on an unmistakable sheen. The wetness made them impossibly bluer, an unnatural colour that was as striking as it was otherworldly. The tears did not fall, yet Erik somehow knew that Charles would cry beautifully if they did. Erik somehow also knew what the response was going to be before he uttered it.

“No. There is no one. Not anymore.”

Erik surprised himself by doing something he would normally never do, under any circumstance, even with someone he knew well, let alone someone he had just met. He reached out and took Charles’ hand, squeezing it gently. His was a pain Erik was all too familiar with.

“It’s all right. We’ll... we’ll figure this out. You’re Charles. You saved my life. You have me. That’s all we need to know right now. Don’t worry about the insurance or anything else.”

Charles stopped staring out into the middle-distance and focused on Erik. “Truly, you don’t owe me anything.”

Erik snorted. “The hell I don’t. Besides, we’ve got to get you healed up. I can’t take you to the diner in this state. We’ve got date, remember? So there you are. Here you think I’m indebted, but really my reasons are purely selfish. You’re hot and I want to date you. Humour me.”

The wetness retreated and that red mouth quirked up into a small smile.

“As long as you’re being self-centred.”

“Oh, trust me, I am.”

Somewhere behind them, someone cleared their throat. Erik turned. Oh, right, the doctor. “As much as I would love to watch the two of you keep flirting, we need to take care of those injuries.”

She was right, so Erik reluctantly stood and even more reluctantly released Charles’ hand.

“I’ll be back later, so stop trying to leave and let them take care of you, all right?”

Charles nodded. “If you insist.”

“I do.”

Erik forced himself to turn and exit the room. Only after he’d left it, did he truly exhale. Charles was okay. Charles was okay. Charles was flirting even... well, possibly. They were still on for that date. Erik took a few much needed breaths and strode more determinedly, and much less frantically, back toward the nurses’ desk. He would take care of this.

He would take care of Charles.

Thanks for reading 😊. I really hope inspiration continues to strike because I’ve had a lot of fun with this thus far.

On to chapter 2 part 1

#cherik #cherik fan fic #cherik fanfic #charles xavier #erik lehnsherr #pinkoptics fic #fallen angel fic

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faunusrights · 4 years

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OFFAL HUNT REMASTERED LIVEBLOG //CHAPTER 20

i mispelt the title as ‘oofal hunt’ which, i mean, mood,

IN THIS EPISODE OF DEPRESSION TO THE MAX:

"Fuck you."

THAT’S IT. THAT’S-- THERE’S THE CHAPTER.

/looks at the chosen lyrics for this chap :hrm:

do i still have to a little introduction to this liveblog? twenty chapters in? methinks not so lets just get right Tew It shall we

“We’re here, Ms. Fall.”

/marks this next section down on the tally of cinder’s mistakes. we’re somewhere in the high thousands.

An old Dust extraction point, quietly rotting. Cinder’s mouth pulled. There was an abysmal dearth of kindling.

cinder: you know you could at least take me somewhere better suited for me to kick your ass. this is VERY rude. am NOT a fan. my yelp review will NOT be kind.

i love cinder counting up the numbers. you know honestly id be deeply charmed if someone saw it fit to bring half an army out to take me on. i mean, would it be a pain in my ass? yes. but also. awh. thanks lads! love how many of you blocked out this evening just for me x

"Sienna Khan!" Cinder could barely hear herself between the claws of that strange laughter. "Sienna Khan! It’s really—really—you!"

uh-oh sisters,

oh man sienna and cinder is just. look. WOOF. theres a lot here. a lot going on. a lot that HAD gone on. but also im gay so this tension is peak for me PLEASE lay it on thick!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! LETS GO!

Cinder stopped laughing.

"Overkill," she repeated, and in the same breath, crossed the tarmac in full immolation.

HELL YEAH BABEY. but also was the more the implication that cinder is an easy kill OR the implication that glynda’s the bigger threat that’s more annoying,,,,,,,,,,,,, well!!!!!!!! too late to find out now!!!!!!!!!!!!!

They clashed: once, twice, three times, steel on Aura, flitting through space, but—he wasn't faster than Glynda.

wait it’s the former i forgot cinder’s gay nvm

“Cinder. I mean it. I want to talk.” Sienna’s face revealed nothing. Her gaze stayed fixed on Cinder, as if she were searching for something.

What it could be, Cinder had her guesses, and all of them repulsed her utterly. She spat, “Well, I was only planning on sending your Lieutenant’s head to you in a box signed Love Cinder, so I didn’t really come with a speech prepared.”

SDHJGHJGSKFD SORRY IM LIKE. tryna liveblog but im also just :EYES: at everything here.......... im SO PUMPED for this cause im just SO CURIOUS,,,,,, WE’VE HAD SO MANY SNIPPETS,,,,,,,,, BUT IM HONGRY FOR MORE,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

that said i feel like cinder’s the type of person who revisits arguments in her head hours later with new, better points, so i think she does have a speech prepared. in fact i think she has many words stored up in the ol’ meatspace, and all of them are very rude,

The Sienna Khan that Cinder remembered still had baby-fat in her cheeks and hadn’t learned to keep her thoughts off her face. The one she saw now had weaponized distance.

/stage whisper hang on that visual is cute dont put it in HERE where the TENSION IS

Quietly, Sienna went for her belt, pulling away something the same polished silver as her whip. It might have been an arrow tip, except that it was lethally barbed and looked like it had been modified to chamber Dust. Pale blue glinted within it.

Cinder darkened. "Ice Dust?"

sienna: i wanna talk sienna: with violence!

GOD ITS REAL INTERESTING CAUSE,,,,,,,,,, THERE’S A LOT HAPPENING HERE. glynda didnt Know cinder in any sense so we’ve very much been on the ‘let’s figure cinder out with glynda’ train like the whole. the rain! and the desert! etc! all very much thru the lens of glynda ‘i dont remember shit’ goodwitch! so now we have seinna who Knows Shit cause there’s so much history here and im like blease wait talk more first i want the KNOWLEDGE

[...] "Roman Torchwick is holed up in Vytal with your warehouses, and those two teens haven’t been sighted in months... But you wouldn't send them that far north, would you?”

“I wouldn’t send them anywhere you could get your claws in them.”

“The White Fang isn’t like that anymore. We don’t strong-arm children into our ranks. That girl—the snake Faunus—”

“If you say one more word about her,” Cinder said. “I’m going to do something drastic to every single person here.”

ACTUALLY TALK LESS TALK LESS LETS FIGHT RIGHT NOW!!!!!!!! AND NOT TALK!!!!!!!! A T A L L

Sienna's shoulders leveled. "This is not Hróðvitnir's White Fang anymore."

me: huh why do i recognise that name,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,, me: oh yeah!!!!!!! that bitch,

HJGDSJKHGFDS we Love a homage to a classic au and to a cinder so good that id die for her. i mean id die for this cinder too but like that was another level of Die For. anyway. back to the au at hand,

“If I didn’t know better, I might believe you," Cinder snapped, and her old scars throbbed in tandem. “But I do know better. I found one of your parasites, sucking the life out of a town near the wastes. Bringing the White Fang’s protection. You should have seen how he protected them. There wasn't a child there without a fang or an antler missing."

hang on a sec, lets LEAP BACK in time for just a moment

okay so i nipped back to chapter five for just a hot second to see if there was a line that was particular pertinent, but also i found smthng else...

Violence collected at her twitching fingers, old scars across her body flaring with phantom pain. (Chapter 5)

“If I didn’t know better, I might believe you," Cinder snapped, and her old scars throbbed in tandem. (Chapter 20)

HM,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,, man. cinder. you got real fucked up huh. ANYWAY THAT WASNT WHAT I WAS LOOKING FOR I JUST LINED THE CONTINUITY (because im jealous). what i was ACTUALLY looking for was THIS:

There would be another overseer, the inhabitants would resume their harried lives, and Cinder wouldn’t spare this town a second thought.

i said at the time in an emotional fit of pain that this was a straight-up lie but cinder is nothing if not a melting pot of emotional reckoning, and I WAS RIGHT. LET IT BE INSCRIBED UNTO THE STONES!!!! SHE DID SPARE IT A SECOND THOUGHT!!!!!!!! HELD IN HER MIND LONG ENOUGH TO RECALL THE DETAILS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! JUST 2 SPIT IT IN SIENNA’S FACE!!!!!!!!! im telling you that cinder has SO MUCH MORE GOING ON!!!!!!!!!!! and heres my PROOF. PROOF OF WHY SHES AN ANGEL (ONLY ON TUESDAYS THOUGH [10AM-1PM])!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Then: "Why don't you say," Sienna responded slowly, her expression slotting into place like a bullet chambering, "precisely what you mean, Cinder."

"Fuck you."

:’3c

cinder has such a way with words. i love her eloquence. remember that time glynda thought she was taking the piss out of the fact she was autistic at dinner? cinder yr a maestro. never change.

“You brought Beowolves to heel. You could turn a Goliath with a word!"

“I had—no—Aura! Nothing to protect me!”

:eyes: :thinking:

HM,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,, INTERESTING??????? i feel like this is the first time we’ve heard of cinder w/o aura implicitly? unless im Stupit and dont remember a Got Dang Thing but HUH. does this. hm. huh. am i stupid. someone tell me if i missed a thing.

“This isn’t a diplomatic mission, Cinder. I simply wanted to know what their lives were worth to you—before we wipe our hands of each other for good.”

“That’s a funny way of saying only one of us is walking away from this.”

GOD,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,, i LOVE this scene a lot the interplay between sienna and cinder is absolutely PEAK,,,,,,,, PEAQUE,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,, im rly enjoying this. also im dying. but im enjoy it a LOT.

“The White Fang you and I grew up in doesn't exist anymore. We’re changing. But you… When did you stop caring? Was it when you cut your horns to be one of them instead?"

Dragonfire scorched Cinder's lungs, blackening every word: "I was never—your—people."

feels like its been a good goddamn whilst since i got to do one of these 👈😎👈, so let’s savour the moment

👈👈👈👈��👈😎👈👈👈👈👈👈

aaaaaand savoured. lets continue.

Shaking with the effort of holding her strike, Sienna grit, "I won't relish this."

And Cinder howled, "I will!”

ah shit i shouldve said lets RELISH this to tie the whole theme together and-- and fuck it, combat scene. never good at liveblogging these. sdfjhgsdfghj

Gunfire sparked against her, but she honed in on him with single-minded intent, the kind she’d whetted to a razor’s edge against Glynda.

for a chapter following cinder escaping glynda, she’s thought about her TWICE now. huh. huh. interesting. gay. and interesting,,,,,,

It was nothing like fighting Glynda. This was bleak and repetitive: the second drove forward and Sienna covered his openings, stopping Cinder before she could rip his heart from his chest, and all the while, the gunfire whittled away at her Aura. It was a joyless tactic, no flair or heart, and yet—

HUH. GAY AND INTERESTING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! NO FLAIR OR HEART,,,,,,,,,, i cant believe every time they fought cinder was actually just doing a shit job of flirting. the more you know.

The world erupted into flames. They grew massive, swirling around her like a hurricane—Cinder’s Aura exploded outward in desperation, like a dying star defiantly spending the last of itself on a supernova; one final flare, brighter than entire galaxies, if only for a single moment. Cinder felt flashes of bright pain through her muscles as if the fire was burning her from inside.

MAN,,,,,,,,,,,,, I COULD TALK ABT SOME UH,,,,,,,,,,,,, well. i could talk abt a few things here. but theyre kinda 👈😎👈 so i WONT,,,,,,,,,,,,,, but kno that i am having some Thoughts on the matter. hm.

“Prove it!” Death was thrumming in her veins. It had never made her brave before. It did now, the memory of Glynda’s blind, resolute stare heady in her skull. “Come and prove it! Do it, or I’ll hunt you to your last, miserable breath, Sienna!”

so remember when glynda had her little outburst at winter and i said that i love how cinder rubbed off on glynda in the worst way? i cant believe glynda ALSO rubbed off on cinder ALSO in the WORST WAY!!!! this is how u know this truly is a soulmates thing.

“It’s a shame you outgrew your swords, Cinder Fall. I would have taken them as a trophy,”

it’s with great disappointment that i must say: i agree with adam. the swords were hot. they should come back.

Sienna’s footsteps were whispers at Cinder’s back. The trap was closing. Cinder pooled flame in one palm. The other hand was useless, limp at her side. Impotent rage tasted like blood in her mouth. “I don’t even remember your fucking name.”

HJGKDSFKJHGFSDJDHGF GOD IM SORRY BUT THIS MADE ME LAUGH. WHAT A LINE. WHAT A LINE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! i may actually have to draw this scene that image is SO wonderful. just cinder, staggering, exhausted, and she still manages to just spit that out. im screaming. shes a champion. i think she won this battle literally just there pack it up her burns come in more flavours than one.

Beneath Cinder, Hati turned, scanning for an escape, but she didn’t drop Sienna’s gaze. Wiping the sweat from her brow, she said, “I’m told I’m something of a menace.”

firstly: AAAAAAAAA HATI!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! BABY BOY OH NO THATS NO GOOD BAD TIMES AWFUL FEELS MY GUY!!!!!!!!!!!! secondly: CINDER THESE ZINGERS ARE UNREAL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! JESUS CHRIST. I KNEW YOU LIED WHEN YOU DIDNT HAVE A SPEECH HOW MUCH MATERIAL HAVE YOU GOT IN THERE?????????

OH MY GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOD

WAIT WHAT HANG ON

WHAT

WAIT

W H AT

okay wait hold on lets dial back i read ahead and dint live blog wait rthereghsdfgjhdffd HOLD ON

Cinder buried her face in Hati’s mane, hating them, hating, hating, hating. Black ichor clotted in Hati’s fur, tacky against her palms. Grimm didn’t have Auras to protect them, and exit wounds riddled Hati’s mighty body. Cinder’s heart lurched with fury. She could have screamed.

i read this bit and got STRESSED because hati is PEAK like hati didnt even fucking SHOW UP in og but i LOVE HIM and i knew shit would happen because its fucking offal hunt BUT

It should have been impossible at this distance, but Cinder could feel her gaze like traded blows, even nestled among the black of Hati’s pelt.

Sienna’s eyes shone like coins. They were cool, detached. Prepared.

She twisted her wrist and the whip flickered through the air in tight wheels. Its end glittered pale blue.

UH OH

Adrenaline cooled to permafrost in Cinder’s body, as though the Dust had already found its home between her ribs.

Cinder whispered, “Don’t.”

UH OH

Expressionless, Sienna gave a wide lash, and the jagged end of her whip released with a click. Silver sliced through the air, then through feathers and fur, with a sickening sound—wet and meaty as the arrowhead dagger buried itself deep into flesh. Hati’s whole body shuddered and Cinder only had a moment more before ice exploded from his ribs, ripping out through his pelt, even slicing into Cinder’s own skin. It speared him from deep inside, where the cartridge had sunk, impaling everything and rending him asunder.

JESUS JESUS CHRIST AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

JESUS CHRIST WHAT A VISCERAL DEATH SCENE HOLY SHIT OH MY GOD OH NO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! O H N O T H A T S A N O G O O D V E R Y B A D T I M E

Cinder’s stomach jumped into her throat, and she held on tight to Hati, her bastion, her sanctuary, her family—held on tight like it would make any difference at all—like she could hold her family together with just her own two hands.

Hati dissolved right between her fingertips, and she plummeted alone.

like she could hold her family together with just her own two hands

OUGH what the FUCK

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA HEY THIS. HEY THIS SUCKED HEY THIS WAS A BAD CHAPTER WHAT THE FUCK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! THAT WAS HATI!!!!!!!!!!!!!! THAT WAS MY BOY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! WHAT THE FUCK!!!!!!!!!!!! GO TO HELL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

EXCUSE ME????????? WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?????????? HELLO??????????? WHAT THE FUCK????????? SIENNA???????? BITCH?????????? GO TO H E L L

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

#rwby #offal hunt #liveblog #AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

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blatherkatt · 7 years

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Title: The Calm Is Terrifying When The Storm Is All You Know [Homestuck]

Chapter 33: Declarations

Summary: There were two kinds of trolls who went to Earth: rich shitheads with too much money and free time, and desperate assholes who couldn’t survive on Alternia, even with the best efforts of the young Condesce. Karkat hated the planet almost immediately, but with his home planet too dangerous for mutants, he really didn’t have any choice but to hide out on this weird little diurnal planet. At least he’d be safe. Or so he thought, right before blundering his way into an accidental friendship with the son of an anti-troll terrorist.

Rating: M

Chapter Warnings: Implied/Mentioned abuse, mentions of terrorism, death mention, injury mention, depiction of an emotional breakdown, trauma aftermath; Illustrated; Pesterlog

FIRST | PREVIOUS | NEXT

— carcinoGeneticist [CG] began trolling tipsyGnostalgic [TG] —

CG: WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU?

— tipsyGnostalgic [TG] is an idle chum! —

CG: FUCK YOU, I CAN SEE THAT FOR MYSELF, YOU PIECE OF SHIT PROGRAM. I’M GONNA FUCKING YELL ANYWAY.

CG: I THOUGHT YOU WERE GOING TO PICK ME UP AT NOON. IT’S LIKE, 1:30 AND YOU STILL AREN’T HERE, WHAT GIVES?

CG: IF YOU GOT KIDNAPPED, TOO, I SWEAR TO FUCK I’M PERSONALLY PUTTING THIS ENTIRE GODDAMN FAMILY UNDER PERMANENT WATCH.

CG: I’M NOT ABOVE SITTING ON YOU ASSHOLES IF THATS WHAT IT TAKES.

TG: okay first off i know youre like a literal alien but heres a protip for ya:

TG: general human earth etiquette is to not text people who you know are probably driving?

TG: its like a whole thing

CG: WHY

TG: idk probs because texting while driving’s a great way to fucking crash lol

TG: anyway!!

TG: yeah im real sorry about that mom fucking rang me up like

TG: hi im at the airport come get me!

TG: out of fucking nowhere because everything has to be a fucking hassle with this woman

TG: so i had to go get her

CG: WHY THE FUCK WAS SHE AT THE AIRPORT?

TG: because fuck me is why

TG: and THEN shes like

TG: ooooh i gotta do some mysterious whatthefuckever errand at some mall out in the middle of nowhere

TG: so now im sitting in the parking lot waiting for her to get back which might be a while because her bad leg’s been acting up lately

TG: and thats why im not there yet >:(

CG: WAIT. WAIT, HOLD ON, I’M CONFUSED.

CG: BY “MOM” ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT RACHEL? I DIDN’T EVEN THINK SHE HAD A BAD LEG.

TG: nonono

TG: ray is like. dirk and dave and rose’s mom

TG: i dont call her mom i just call her aunt ray cuz shes not my mom yknow

TG: my mom is aunt ray’s sister

TG: aunt ramona? they talk about her?

CG: OOOOOOH. YEAH.

CG: THE WOMAN WHO WRITES THOSE SHITTY SUPERNATURAL ROMANCE BOOKS KANAYA LOVES.

TG: hahaha yeah her trashy shit is great

CG: SHE’S HERE?

TG: apparently!!!!!!!!

CG: I’M SENSING SOME BITTERNESS.

TG: ugh its fine she just always does shit like this

TG: womans always gotta make a fuckin entrance even if that means not telling anyone shes coming

TG: and its goddamn annoying as shit!!

TG: but its fine i get it shes here to help out and we are kinda all hands on deck

TG: speaking of tho i heard something about kanaya not coming along after all?

CG: NOT YET, NO.

CG: SHE’S BEEN TALKING TO ROSE, AND APPARENTLY DAVE’S BEEN PRETTY UNEASY WITH THE NUMBER OF NEW FACES AT THE HIVE.

CG: HOUSE. WHATEVER.

CG: TEREZI’S PROTECTION DETAIL HAS HIM KIND OF ON EDGE, I GUESS?

CG: SHE’S GONNA COME AROUND LATER PROBABLY. AND MIGHT END UP STAYING WITH PORRIM AND KEEP IT TO VISITS, AT LEAST UNTIL THINGS SETTLE DOWN A BIT.

CG: SO IT’S JUST ME FOR NOW.

TG: ooooh yeah geez i bet

TG: poor dave :( :( :(

TG: i gotta tell you and mom some uh. serious shit about him when i pick you both up

TG: id pass it on here but its probs better if i just tell you face to face?

CG: OH, WONDERFUL!

CG: MORE NO DOUBT HORRIFIC NEWS REGARDING DAVE.

CG: I CAN’T WAIT. THIS PANIC ATTACK’S GONNA BE ONE FOR THE RECORD BOOKS, I CAN JUST FEEL IT!!!

TG: :(

TG: tl;dr hes not in great shape but hes getting better but theres some stuff we gotta go over

TG: jfc mom what the fuck are you doing its been ages

CG: SO WAIT. SHE JUST HAD YOU DRIVE HER OUT SOMEWHERE AND WALKED OFF ALONE?

TG: yeah

TG: woman can take care of herself just fine so like im not worried??

TG: but still, like. cmon woman!!! whatever it is hurry up a little

TG: it cant be that important we got places to be

In terms of location, it was almost an outlet mall; somewhat detached from the nearest city and surrounded by forest. It was mostly all one building, positioned in a dip in the ground next to a clear stream, and these features had helped make it a serviceable fortress during the invasion, although Derek had regularly complained that he’d have preferred a site that held the high ground. Still, they’d made do; the roof was high enough that one could see for quite some distance, the stream offered fresh water, the trees provided decent enough cover during skirmishes, and the walls were thick enough to turn away most weather and weapons. It hadn’t been much, but it had served well enough as home for six years for around threescore ragtag survivors-turned-fighters.

Out in the surrounding forest, those who hadn’t survived that conflict still lay buried in pitiful graves marked only with a stone or a chunk of wood. There hadn’t been time to properly put anyone to rest; it had been risky enough for two or three people to slip out during a stretch of quiet with a shovel and a body. They simply hadn’t been able to afford to have any sort of formal burial, not with the threat of an attack constantly looming.

Even so, even so…

Derek had picked a spot he would remember.

In life, the oak tree would have been the kind people would have thought of as a monarch, with branches spread wide and gnarled wood ancient and strong, holding children in its branches as easily as if they were made of nothing; but the tree had already been dead by the time the invasion started, a great, ancient, dried-out husk. Even so, decades later, it still stood, its branches reaching toward the sky, the other trees forming a circle around it as though too respectful to come too close. Mushrooms and trails of greenery crept about a quarter of the way up the ancient trunk.

At its roots, a rotting wooden spar stuck up out of the ground. This, too, had been reclaimed by flowers, grasses and mushrooms, decorating the splintered and decayed timber with dark summer greens and pale white-and-lavender blooms.

Derek Strider, down on one knee with his sheathed sword held in his right hand, sighed. Of course, the trouble with having to bury the dead so hastily meant that there’d been no one to look over the graves, so it was to be expected that it be in such disrepair, but even so, seeing this one choked out by the invading flora was…

It wasn’t right.

Overhead, the ancient branches rustled slightly, and the raucous calling of a bird broke the silence. Derek narrowed his eyes and ignored it, tried to write the disrespectful noise out of the scene.

The crow seemed to have other ideas. The bird lighted down on the wooden grave marker, red eyes fixed on Derek’s face. It flapped its wings a few times, cawing incessantly. Derek scowled, unsheathed his sword, and struck —

The blade passed through the bird with no resistance whatsoever. The creature’s body split in two, bloodlessly, as though Derek had cut through smoke — it even looked like smoke, like a cloud cut in two by a passing jet. As Derek looked on, uncomprehending and with a growing sense of dread, the bird’s body seemed to pull itself back together, a video played in reverse, and the bird’s accusatory squawks started up again as though nothing had happened.

Derek was on his feet in an instance, stepping away from the beast, and as he did, he happened to look up…

Perched on nearly every branch of the old tree were ravens. Unlike the crow, they were all silent, and aside from the occasional shifting of a foot or tilting of a head, motionless. Scores of staring animal eyes bored into him.

Derek had never been a superstitious man, but nor was he the sort of fool to ignore the truth his own eyes showed him. He’d spent six years fighting alongside a witch, and seen enough to learn that some things really couldn’t be explained away as coincidence.

Had it been anyone else, he would have responded to the sound of footsteps approaching this site with a furious attack; even Ben knew better than to disturb him here. But when he whirled to face the intruder, he froze.

She’d aged more since he’d last seen her than he would have expected. Hints of silver streaked her hair, and she leaned heavily on her gnarled black cane. A faint breeze stirred the black fabric of her dress, playing with the light shawl laying across her shoulders. The crow had fallen silent.

“Put that thing away before you take someone’s eye out,” said Ramona, nodding nonchalantly at Derek’s sword.

Derek narrowed his eyes, and did not respond aloud, instead choosing to slowly and deliberately slide the sword back into its sheathe. Only after his left hand had returned to his side did Ramona nod and continue.

“That’s better,” she said. “Now we can talk things over like reasonable adults. Mind you, I ought to do the world a favor and wipe you out right now,” and Derek took a slow, deep breath at that, as she continued, “But I’d prefer not to desecrate your brother’s grave by staining it with your blood. I respect him far too much for that. You, however, have somehow managed to exceed all of my worst expectations to a nearly unfathomable degree, as of late. I’ve held off on this confrontation out of respect for the past, but I can see now that this was a mistake.”

Derek shifted. “Everything I’ve done has been to protect our damn planet, Ramona,” he started, but was cut off.

“Really?” she said, “Well, then. I’m not about to attempt to ask you to cease killing trolls, as we both know that would be pointless, but I would very much like to know how exactly burning your own son alive plays into your grand battle strategy?”

“He…he turned on us,” Derek said, through gritted teeth, “He forced my hand, left me no choice!”

“He is a child!” Ramona snapped. “And you, of all people, should know better! If you really must follow this path of self-destruction to its end, fine, but he should never have been involved!”

“I—”

“And in any case, you had a perfectly good sword on hand, I’m sure. If young Dave really did need to die, you could have executed him with minimal pain, but no, you wanted him to hurt, to know he was dying and to fear you and suffer as he passed. How do you justify that, Derek? How does anyone, especially a child, deserve anything of the sort?”

The eyes of the ravens and that damned crow still drilled into him. He could feel the stares on his back, but kept his eyes locked on Ramona’s, refusing to back down.

He wasn’t going to take back what he’d done. There’d be no guilt, he’d done nothing wrong except overreact a bit. It was justified. That…that boy wasn’t Dave. Ramona was using the name like a blade, but she’d not win that way. He didn’t deserve the fucking name, didn’t deserve to have anything to do with Dave, he never would have let Rachel name the kid that if he’d known he was going to grow up to be such a pathetic, useless little coward.

“I don’t have to explain myself to you,” he said.

“No, I suppose you don’t,” said Ramona, folding her hands over the top of her cane. “I’ve a fairly good idea, in any case.” She sighed. “The war is over, Derek. The time to put aside this violence and misery is long since behind us. Our children do not deserve to grow up as we did.”

“The trolls are still here,” Derek spat.

There was a long silence. Ramona sighed again.

“Fine, then,” she said, “So be it. Do as you will. Chase violence as long as you like. But if you come near my family again, I will consider it an act of war.”

She turned, and he was tempted to take the bait, to try attacking her while her back was turned, but he held still. It was infuriating, knowing what a pointed insult turning her back on him was, knowing that she knew he would not risk attacking her—but she was right. She was much too dangerous.

“Come along, little one,” she said, abruptly. The crow rose off the grave and flew to land on top of Ramona’s cane. If Derek had cared to pay any attention, he might have noticed the crow look back at him with something like regret in its eyes, but Derek was already far too lost in his own thoughts.

As one bird, the ravens took wing, dispersing in all directions, leaving him alone again.

The trouble with trying to go from Alternian to English was a multifaceted one, to be sure, but so far the most obnoxious piece of it that Karkat could see was the tendency of guides on how to speak English to simply use the closest Alternian equivalent as an English word’s translation. More and more, the two languages were notably extremely different, and while he could speak English well enough that he’d never had any serious problems, there were any number of words that he kept tripping over as a result of a translation being extremely unclear and culturally misleading.

Witches, for instance, were clearly something very different on Earth. The Alternian word that was translated to English as “witch” was, like most Alternian words, a series of noises in the ‘click and growl’ family that most humans lacked the anatomy to create, and generally refered to certain lowblood prophets and healers in Alternian folklore. They were those who lived away from society and who, through some lucky genetics and convenient psychic powers, were able to fend of drones and effectively disappear from the world at large’s knowledge. They kept to themselves, sought to harm no one who didn’t attack them first, offered shelter to the weak and the hunted, and as such were always portrayed as utterly despicable beings in fiction, as no writer with any sense of self-preservation had dared to portray such reckless treachery under the rule of the last Condesce. There might have been some changes to the lore under the new one’s rule, but things like that changed slow.

In any case, they certainly weren’t anything like the old woman in a shawl who was sitting next to Roxy in the front of her car.

She was dressed all in black, for one thing. Alternian witches didn’t tend to wear much black. Some Alternian witches didn’t tend to wear all that much clothing at all, really. Most seemed to belong to ancient religions that weren’t particularly fond of shirts.

Ramona was definitely magic as shit, though, Rachel’d been right about that much. Was that all a witch was on Earth, just someone with magic? Fuck, if that were the case, then probably like at least a third of all trolls were witches by Earth’s standards. Then again, maybe magic was another poorly translated word? English didn’t seem to have a word to separate “things that we (read: trolls) know exist, like psychic powers and psiionics and ghosts and chucklevoodoos,” and “things that are super fake and don’t actually happen ever and make no sense.”

Whatever. In any case, Ramona didn’t look at all like Karkat had expected, and when he climbed into the back of the car, she didn’t react to his presence with anything stronger than an amiable nod. She seemed to have her mind on other things, and was largely silent at first.

Roxy wasn’t; she immediately piped up happily as Karkat swung open the door with a “Hey, man! Sorry about taking so long! Can you, uh, do me a favor and check on Jaspers? He’s in the carrier behind Mom, Rose asked me to pick him up while she and Aunt Ray were gone. He’s been missing them a lot, all staring out the window and kneading his blanket and shit, and he’s not a huge fan of car rides.”

“He’s asleep,” Karkat said after glancing into the little crate.

“Awesome. Alright, buckle up and we’ll get this damn show on the road.”

“On the road again, just can’t wait to get on—”

Karkat tilted his head as the car’s radio abruptly changed from quietly playing some human pop song over to something much louder and completely different. Ramona stifled a snort as Roxy stabbed a button, switching the radio back to the previous channel.

“No, thank you,” she said, glaring. “Christ, the fuck is with this thing today, I swear to god.”

“I suppose it may simply be getting into the spirit of things,” said Ramona with a smile. As the car pulled away from the curb, she turned back a bit to face Karkat. “It’s Karkat, isn’t it? Rachel’s been sending me any number of emails with updates, and from the sound of things, you’ve been rather instrumental in bringing young Dave back into the fold, so to speak.”

“…Into the what?”

“It’s a figure of speech, meaning in this case that you’ve helped us return him home as well as helping him to adjust to being there,” she said. “For which you have all of our heartfelt thanks. Ours is perhaps not the most functional of families, but it is ours, and as I’m sure you’ve seen firsthand, ripping away a piece of it the way Derek did has had some very painful consequences for all involved. We owe you a great deal.”

“Yeah, man!” Roxy said. “And from what Rose has been telling me, you were kind of a big part of why he finally spilled what he knows. Which, he did bee-tee-dubs, which means he’s off house arrest finally, so that’s good—”

“—And a partridge in a pear tree,” the radio crackled.

“What the fuck? It’s August,” Roxy scowled. She turned the radio off altogether as Ramona glanced hurriedly out the window.

“Speaking of Dave,” Karkat said, hopefully before anyone got distracted again, “Roxy, you mentioned that there was something that you needed to say face to face?”

“Right, shoot, yeah,” said Roxy. The car turned onto the long road that led eventually to the Lalonde hive. “Okay, so, like. There’s definitely some shit you should know before we get there, but I wanna preface it all real clearly by saying that Dave’s okay, y’know? He’s got a lot of healing to do, but the doctors said that as long as he’s looked after and we change bandages and shit and he gets plenty of rest, he’s definitely not in any danger anymore. He’s…weak, but he’s not like gonna keel over at any moment, okay?”

“Not actually making me feel any better, Roxy!” said Karkat. Oh, boy, with a preface like that…

“Well, fuck, I tried, I guess. Uh. So, Dave did get hurt…pretty bad, and there were some other complications—oh, for fuck’s sake!!”

“Watch me, watch me, hey, watch me, watch me!” The radio was louder than ever. Ramona’s hand flew up, poorly hiding a grin.

Karkat leaned around Roxy’s seat to glare at her.

“What the fuck, Roxy,” said Karkat.

“I’m not doing this!” Roxy said, waving her hand wildly. “I swear to fuck, I wouldn’t! I really do need to pass on some shit about poor Dave, and the radio’s never done this before? It’s been acting up since a little before we picked you up, keeps changing on its own and shit, augh!”

She fought with the controls, but the song stopped only for a moment before getting even louder.

“Why the fuck do you humans even have this obnoxious song?! Who listens to this?? It’s literally just some squawking wiggler screeching for its lusus’s attention!”

“I mean, I kinda love it for that honestly, it’s terrible and stupid and wonderful, but like, come the fuck on??? What’s with this thing?! Now is not the time!”

“Ass ass ass ass ass ass ass ass ass ass—“

“GOD, that’s even worse!!” Roxy yelled, slamming her fist down on the dashboard. “Fucking stop!!”

“That’s enough for now,” Ramona said, almost murmuring it.

The radio turned off. Karkat and Roxy both turned a suspicious eye on Ramona, and with equal simultaneity, decided to drop it for now.

“Anyway,” Roxy said slowly, “What I was trying to say is, um…Karkat, do you know what it means for someone to ‘flatline?’ Because, um. Dave kinda did, for like, a minute and a half.”

Karkat shook his head, realized Roxy probably couldn’t see him with her eyes on the road, and said, “Uh, I have no idea what that word means, no.”

“Well, um…”

“It refers to a heart monitor indicating that the heart has ceased beating,” Ramona said. “The machine indicates activity with a line which shows peaks and valleys, and it goes flat when that activity has stopped, thus, ‘flatline’. The organ we call a heart serves an equivalent function to what trolls call a ‘blood pusher’ or a ‘pump biscuit.’”

Karkat felt for a moment like his own pump biscuit had stopped.

“Shit, Mom, when did you get so good at translating to trolls?” Roxy murmured.

Ramona shrugged. “I’ve made efforts to reach out,” she said. “The war ended, after all, and since we’re allies now, it doesn’t hurt to learn about each others’ cultures.”

“His fucking—What?!” Karkat screeched, unable to keep the harsh buzzing whine out of his voice. God, that was such a moirail noise, and any other time he’d have yelled at himself for not keeping it under control, but not now, not when… “His fucking blood pusher stopped and I’m supposed to be calm!?!”

“They got it moving again!” Roxy said. “He’s okay now, the doctors said it was going strong! It was, um, mostly just exhaustion, they think? Like, the burn wounds could’ve killed him on their own, sure, but they got on those quick enough that if he’d been healthy to begin with he probably wouldn’t have been so bad off? But between ten years of, you know…and just, apparently he hasn’t been eating enough even while he’s been back with us? And Ray’s gonna get on his ass about that, but, just—look, the thing is, Dirk doesn’t know about this yet, and Aunt Ray’s asked that we try to keep it that way, and I don’t really get why but I think she has her reasons?”

Karkat was definitely hyperventilating, oh fuck, oh fuck—Ramona’s hand reached back to touch his own, snapping him out of it.

“It’s fine to be worried,” she said, gentle. “I promise you, though, it is as Roxy says: he’ll be fine given time to recover and the safety with which to do so. He’ll be alive when we get there.” She sat back in her chair, turning towards the road again. “As for Dirk, I suspect Rachel is waiting for things to settle down before breaking it to him gently. He is, for better or worse, very like his father, and Derek handled his brother’s death poorly, in large part because at the time we could not afford to mourn. Rachel probably wants to make sure that Dirk does not feel he has to force himself to be strong when she tells him.”

“Makes sense, I guess,” Roxy muttered. “Anyway, the main thing about that is that he’s not got a lot of energy right now, so don’t…take it personally if he just falls asleep on you sometimes? Especially with the painkillers he’s on, apparently that’s a side effect, too. He can walk short distances, but he gets wobbly quick and needs help sometimes, so there’s that too.”

“Fuck,” said Karkat, softly.

The next ten minutes of the ride were carried out in tense silence. This was broken by the radio once again bursting back on and blasting the ass song again, at which point Roxy threatened to pull over and smash the fucking thing to smithereens.

By the time they actually got to the fucking house, Karkat felt like his soul was going to vibrate right out of his fucking body with impatience. They had yet another delay in the form of Terezi’s protection detail—Terezi herself wasn’t there, but some officers were, and they insisted on knowing about any weapons the three of them had as well as names, and went in to check with the family while making them all wait outside by the car. Karkat already had his fucking bag in hand, he was ready to go, but no, they had to go through this tedious procedure! Sure, it was probably a smart move, and when he was feeling a little more sensible he’d be more okay with it as it was the sort of thing that probably would make them all feel a bit safer (especially poor fucking Dave), but right now the were a pain in the ass and he was going to fucking explode!!! If they didn’t!!! Let him get in the fucking hive!!!!!

Rose stepped out as they were still talking to the police, and for the first time in his life Karkat was unspeakably happy to see her. She quickly confirmed to the police that all three of them were in fact expected and trusted by this household, and then gently let Jaspers out of his carrier. The cat immediately yowled and threw himself into her arms, kneading at her shoulders and rubbing his face against hers, and it all would have been super cute if Karkat didn’t have his mind on other fucking things.

“Come on in,” Rose said, nodding towards the door. “Dirk’s on the couch and Dave’s in Mom’s room, as neither of them can handle stairs right now and Dave needs his bandages changed at least twice a day. Karkat, do you—”

She was talking to air. He was already in the fucking door.

And then had to face the fact that he’d never actually been to Rachel’s room. Fuck. Rachel was coming up the hall, though, and a slightly bewildered young human (wait, fuck, that was Dirk, what happened to his hair? It looked so weird hanging down like that instead of spiked up) was sitting on the couch with an Earth husktop on his lap. Roxy pushed in the door with Ramona right behind her, dropped a heavy wheeled bag right next to the door, and immediately launched herself at Dirk, who gave a startled yelp as she did so.

Rachel rested a hand on Karkat’s shoulder as she passed him, rushing up toward Ramona throwing her arms around her shoulders. The two shared a long hug, and Rachel kissed Ramona’s cheek.

“God, I’m so glad you’re here,” Karkat heard Rachel murmur, before Rose tapped his shoulder.

“I was asking if you knew where Mom’s room is,” Rose said.

“Uh.”

“It’s down the hall to the observatory, but you take a left before you get to it. Make sure to make plenty of noise on the way over, Dave gets really jumpy when he’s the only person in that room. He can’t block the door since we need to be able to come in and out, and it’s got him a bit on edge.”

Karkat nodded, unable to get any words out past the lump in his throat. He more or less just dropped his bag on the ground and pushed past, zooming around toward the room indicated. Dave looked half-asleep when Karkat pushed the door open, and waved as he sat up with some effort.

God, the photo Rose had taken didn’t do justice to how fucking bad he looked. There were bruises across his face and neck turned a weird greenish-gray but still dark against his skin, and bandages everywhere, his hair was a mess (although that might have just been from sleeping). He was in some oversized shirt with an Earth hoofbeast on the front that was probably Dirk’s judging by the size, and Karkat had no idea why Dave had it on but right now he didn’t care.

“Hey, man, uh. Shit’s been crazy, huh?” Dave said with an awkward grin. He didn’t have his shades on either, which made sense if he’d been sleeping, except they weren’t on the bedside table (which did instead contain a nearly empty glass of water, several bottles of pills and salves, and a first aid kit from which clean cloth bandages overflowed).

Two weeks of emotion boiled over all at once. Wordless, Karkat stomped across the room and grabbed Dave’s stupid fucking shirt in both hands and tugged him close.

“It was three days, Dave,” Karkat hissed.

“Wha—?”

“Three days! And you got yourself fucking kidnapped by a terrorist on day goddamn two!! What the fuck, Dave?!” His voice was threatening to abandon him, but Karkat forced it right back into place by sheer willpower. This tangent would not be fucking stopped, hell no. “I take my eyes off of you for two days, and you get yourself into shit again! What the fuck!!! Do you have any idea how-how fucking agonizing it’s been waiting for news?! And you’re just sitting there like ‘Oh, hey! What’s up?’ What’s up is my foot up your waste chute, you hopeless fucking—!” Okay, nope, his voice was leaving after all, actually. He felt tears roll down his face, and he should’ve been more worried about that, but Dave already knew about his blood color and he was the only troll in the house right now, so, fuck it, fuck it all! Helpless, he tugged Dave closer again, letting his face press against that stupid shirt, claws still twisted into the fabric as he sobbed.

“Holy shit,” Dave muttered.

“I was so fucking scared,” Karkat gasped. This was pathetic, they weren’t remotely a couple, Karkat had no right to be this worked up and he knew it, but…Dave wasn’t exactly pushing him away, either, was he?

“I’m sorry, man, I didn’t even…It wasn’t planned this time, it just sorta happened, and Dirk got hurt, and I…”

“I’m not actually angry at you, despite having so much right to be that legislacerators everywhere have preemptively declared me innocent. I’m just fucking screaming for the sake of it, dumbass.”

“Oh.”

The awkward pause that followed was filled with only the sound of Karkat’s weeping, which, fuck, he was probably too fucking embarrassed to tell him off. Except…Dave’s hand lifted up to rest gently against Karkat’s back, so, maybe he didn’t mind that much? Was that wishful thinking?

“Sorry for this,” he said, just in case, as he pulled away a bit. “It’s really fucking embarrassing, I know, I just…”

“It’s cool, man,” said Dave. Then, with a wink, he said, “I know you got your massive Strider homocrush, it’s only natural—”

“Dave, I swear to fuck, injured or not, I will pummel you into dust with a fucking pillow, don’t test me!” Karkat snapped.

Dave snorted. “Hey, man, it’s fine, everyone’s allowed to be a lil gay sometimes with their friends, it’s only natural.”

“I’ll ‘natural’ you!! Motherfucker, I spent the two weeks worrying about your wellbeing and you come at me with more of this bullshit!!”

Dave cackled with laughter. Karkat rolled his eyes and sniffled. He feigned annoyance as best he could, but, God, it was such a relief to hear Dave laugh. Rubbing a sweater sleeve furiously across his eyes, Karkat pulled back, sitting awkwardly on the edge of the bed. “Okay, but seriously, what’s with the shirt?” he asked, gesturing at the floating head of the hoofbeast. It wasn’t even a joke or a drawing. It was just…a straight photo of a hoofbeast’s face, with no text or explanation of any sort. What the fuck??

Dave glanced down, and snickered. “Oh, shit. Uh, yeah, we needed something that’s easy to get me in and out of, since the bandages on this fuckin’ burn need to be changed like, a lot, not to mention the gross-ass cream they have us slathering all over it on the regular. We tried a button down, but the buttons were kinda chafing, and like…who the fuck wants to ruin a fancy shirt with gross burn juices, right? And Dirk’s shit is more comfortable, and this one’s big enough that it’s real easy to take off even if I’m high on the damn painkillers.”

Karkat winced slightly, but decided not to comment. The scream from the video echoed somewhere in his think pan. “Where’re your shades?”

“Bro fuckin’ stepped on them or something, man, I dunno. They fell off at some point, and they were already cracked before all that, and Terezi just found pieces. Which fucking sucks, I mean God dammit, those were a gift from John. Shit sucks.”

“John?” Karkat tipped his head.

“Yeah, he’s like, an old friend of mine. Have I not mentioned him to you? Whatever, he, uh.” Dave scratched at the side of his head. “He was an online friend from before Bro started doing the, uh, raid shit, and I kept talking to him and another friend, Jade, for a while afterwards even though I wasn’t supposed to?”

“Jade’s name I remember,” Karkat said.

“Haha, yeah, yeah cuz I told you about…anyway.” He cleared his throat. “I guess since Dirk’s college is starting up again soon, not that he’s going for the first couple weeks with his leg and a fucking concussion, but, it’s starting up, and John’s sister goes there too, and he’s gonna come with so we’ll be able to hang out for a bit? Which is fuckin’ rad, I haven’t even talked to the guy in three years and we’re finally meeting in person.”

“You want him to be here? While you’re this badly injured?” Karkat yelped.

Dave blinked at him like he’d just grown a secondary head.

“I mean, yeah?” Dave said. “Like, yeah, I’m not in great shape and I guess it’ll be a lil weird for him to see me like this, but I’ve missed him.” Before Karkat could press the question further, though, Dave yawned. “Ugh, fuck, I wanna keep talking, but I’m…halfway to falling asleep, shit.”

“Oh,” said Karkat. He got up, ready to leave. He wanted to stay, wanted to curl himself around Dave’s obnoxiously lanky frame as best he could and protect this fragile idiot human from the entire universe, but…it wasn’t his place, was it? No.

“You leaving?” said Dave, rubbing at his unbruised eye.

“You said you wanna sleep,” Karkat said.

“Right. Uh. Could you, like…fill this back up for me, then, I guess?” Dave said.

“…Sure,” said Karkat.

He was…still confused, but Dave was tired, so he didn’t press. But he couldn’t wrap his head around wanting a friend around while he was so injured—well, he’d wanted Karkat around, hadn’t he? He’d seemed happy to see him, aside from the, uh, yelling. Still, it didn’t make sense! Every troll knew as a small child that the only people you could trust when you were injured were your lusus, your moirail, and maybe your matesprit! Anyone else might take advantage of the weakness and kill you, that was just basic logic! But Dave didn’t even seem to be thinking about it.

And…and yet, come to think of it, Roxy’d been awfully forthright about how bad Dave’s condition was. Hell, she’d heard it from Rose, who seemed like the one most likely to know not to spread that weakness, but the humans were all sharing it and passing it around. It wasn’t just that they didn’t seem to care who knew that Dave and Dirk were injured, it was like they wanted people to know.

And as he filled up the glass of water in the kitchen, he watched as Roxy and Dirk talked on the couch, as Dirk told her that he’d passed on the news of their condition to Jane already, that Rose had told her and Dave’s friends, and it just kept going. Everyone had to be up to date on the fact that both brothers were injured and vulnerable, and yet…

“I hope the flight wasn’t too long,” Rachel was saying to Ramona.

“Nothing would be too long right now,” she said in turn, blowing gently on a cup of tea that Rachel had just poured her. “Times like these, we all need to do our part. I know I might not be able to do much, mind you. My leg’s been acting up something fierce, as of late, but I’ll do whatever I can.”

Something clicked. All at once, the curtains pulled back and Karkat saw the whole picture—saw maybe not what it always was, and certainly not what the Lalondes achieved on any sort of regular basis, but what it was supposed to be, how it was meant to work.

On Alternia, everyone lived in constant competition. Trolls had to be strong as close to all the time as they possibly could, or at the very least find a moirail who could, because otherwise their society wouldn’t particularly care much if they died. That just meant they didn’t deserve to be a part of the gene pool or to contribute to society. If they were injured badly and left vulnerable, it was seen as normal for others to take advantage of that weakness and exert power or outright kill a rival. It was how they survived so long, or so the cultural narrative had so long stated: by this competition, the strongest survive. Nevermind that this survival was built on the corpses of uncountable trolls who didn’t make the cut, it Worked.

As a result, trolls had been bewildered just as Karkat had by how humans as a species managed to be so frail and yet so reckless and to still survive, especially when they didn’t exactly have the kind of numbers that trolls did. Humans lacked the numbers to be expendable, lacked the strength and toughness that kept Trolls alive, and yet they looked Death in the eye and pointed and laughed, and pushed themselves to extremes for no purpose other than to have some warped idea of fun. It was a question that had lingered around his consciousness for ages; how the fuck do humans even work as a species? How had such a seemingly doomed race not died off yet?

The answer that hit him now, as he watched Roxy help Dirk stand up and balance himself on a pair of crutches, was that humans didn’t have to be strong all the time, and that was the magic of their little social units, their families—they took care of each other. No one person had to be good at everything, or so good at one thing that it could keep them safe in any situation. It didn’t matter that their skin was thin or that they weren’t particularly strong or fast, they always, always had others around who would pick up the slack, others who would come even across oceans to offer what aid they could in times of strife; they weaved together all their strengths and weaknesses into a fabric able to withstand just about anything. Fuck, no wonder they’d wanted Dave back so badly. The Lalondes may have been less a tapestry and more a patchwork quilt, but it was still their quilt, and Dave was a part of it….

He felt a near-agonizing pang of envy that he didn’t have a quilt of his own. Humans might have been stupid about a lot of things, but this…this they’d gotten right.

“Fucking water? Is that really the best you could think of? Fucking dumbass,” Dave muttered to himself. God. This was stupid. This was all really fucking stupid. He couldn’t even deal with being alone while he was asleep, for Chrissakes! Too scared of nightmares of a big mean dog, like some fuckin’ little kid.

Yeah, he was tired, but he really, really didn’t wanna be alone right now, was the thing. Not with that fucking troll-drug-induced nightmare lingering around the edges, waiting to chase him down again at its first chance. But. Like. Karkat was kind of right? Bros don’t watch each other sleep, that’s fuckin’ creepy. Like. Okay, so maybe they’d done a bit of that way back when Karkat had been kidnapped, but they didn’t have a choice back then, and anyways they mostly slept at the same time during that experience, which was super different from just asking his best alien friend to fuckin’ hold his hand so the bad dreams wouldn’t get him. Fuck.

So he’d asked Karkat to refill his glass, even though he wasn’t thirsty right now, because it was an excuse to make Karkat come back, at least for a few more minutes, and they could talk for a bit, and maybe Dave’d stop being tired, wouldn’t that be rad.

Karkat came back in looking really thoughtful. He handed the glass over, and Dave took a sip to try and look like he hadn’t been 100% bullshitting there, and mumbled a thanks as he set it down. Then, just as a thought, he jerked his head toward the rest of the bed—it was a big king-sized one, probably left over from before the divorce and Mom had just never downsized or whatever, so there was a lot of space to Dave’s right—and told Karkat he could sit down if he wanted, Dave wasn’t gonna, like, pass out right this minute or anything, haha.

Karkat stayed quiet, which was fuckin’ weird, but he did sit down. He stared at the sheets for a minute, and then spoke up suddenly, saying, “I think I get it.”

“Get what?” said Dave.

“Why they wanted you back so bad,” said Karkat. “I mean, way back when you were first arrested. I kind of fought with Dirk over it at one point, because my only experience with the word Dirk used for why you should be with him was fucking Strider. And also I think I get why this shit all works, for humans in general. I mean, I’m probably just saying obvious shit, but it’s not how trolls work, we don’t take care of each other, not like this.”

Dave tipped his head.

“I mean with the whole fucking family thing,” Karkat said, rolling his eyes. “I’ve been trying to get it this whole time, but this shit’s used to justify so much bullshit with you humans, and I think I get it now, and why it’s so fucking important to you as a species.”

Dave snorted. “Dude, it’s not that big a thing—”

“It is, though! It just seems normal to humans because it’s how you always work, but, Dave, I’m serious, back on Alternia it’s every troll for themself. Maybe you have one person who has your back if you’ve got a moirail, maybe some are lucky like me and have friends who are actually consistently on your side and won’t take the first chance they get to kill you or fuck you up some other way, but we definitely don’t have a whole cluster of others we can just fall back on any time we’re met with something we can’t handle alone.”

“Makes sense, I guess,” Dave started, but Karkat just kept going. Apparently he’d had some sort of fuckin’ epiphany in the past two minutes.

“It took me so fucking long to get this, but I get it now! You know what I don’t get, though, is why the fuck you ever tried to convince me that Strider is part of your fucking family.”

Something in Dave dropped like a stone.

He’d…had a similar thought, really. Repeatedly. Multiple times, over the past week or so. He’d been kind of trying to avoid it, because every time it popped up, he got really stressed out.

“And don’t give me any of the bullshit about being ‘related’ or what the fuck ever, I don’t wanna hear it,” Karkat kept right on going. “I still don’t get why you humans care so much about that. The whole point of this family thing is that you all take care of each other, not that you’re related or whatever! Your aunt’s here, did you know that? She flew across an entire fucking ocean just to make sure she could help out you and Dirk! What the fuck did Strider ever do for you?”

It was a good question. And the answer, of course, was: aside from trying to kill him, do you mean? Hahaha.

Karkat was still talking, but Dave wasn’t really hearing him. Fuck, this had been a mistake, he should’ve taken his chances with the fucking nightmare dog. That was better than this old song and dance with his own thoughts.

The facts were pretty simple. He’d operated under pretty clear logic when he went up against Bro: We’re family, so he loves me, so therefore if I ask him to let me leave and explain that I really can’t deal with this, he’ll let me go. Except, Bro had tried to kill him, which meant that…

That was as far as Dave ever got. He couldn’t think any farther than that.

He felt like…like the next thought should be obvious, but he couldn’t make himself think it. It was too big—not so much a square peg in a round hole as it was trying to cram a grain silo into a pinhole, and the thought threatened to overwhelm and destroy him, so instead of thinking it, his brain kept rejecting it, the effect being like a broken record skip-skip-skipping, over and over, repeating the last thought he could get to before the Big One, because he couldn’t not think the Big One, either…

It was so fucking stupid, it was just a thought, why couldn’t he…

“Hah, yeah, now that you mention it, I guess I was always kinda wrong about this shit, wasn’t I?” Dave said, unable to stop the sardonic laughter bubbling up in his throat. “I mean, fuck, no wonder it took you so long to get, I probably gave you the wrong idea. My dumb ass was convinced he’d never try to kill me, cuz we’re family, and, well, here we fuckin’ are!”

Skip, skip, skip—

Karkat was still talking in stuttered phrases in the gaps of Dave’s own flood of words, looking almost scared, but Dave didn’t comprehned any of them, and anyway, the ranting had started, there was no stopping this shit now. “Like, what the fuck was I even thinking, right? I really thought that was gonna work, that somehow he’d just let me go if I asked, like a fucking idiot! Haha, what a fuckin’ dipshit, right?! And here I was thinking he—” Frantic laughter bubbled up, overtaking the words, not that more would’ve come, that next thought was just too big. Was he crying? Fuck, Karkat didn’t need to see any of this shit, but he couldn’t stop, couldn’t think

Skip, skip, skip, skip, skipskipskipskipskipskip—

It wasn’t Karkat’s fault. It really wasn’t. He might’ve set it off, but the storm had been building up for days, now, and it broke hard, sweeping Dave up in a torrent of just wordless mental screaming. He couldn’t think the next thought. He couldn’t. But the thing was damming him up, and he couldn’t ignore it anymore, and he was stuck in the middle and left to just completely melt down and dissipate into the flood.

A sound like a cicada crossed with the creakiest horror movie door ever to creak ripped through the tides, and suddenly Dave found himself tugged into a full body hug, wrapped up in four limbs with his face pressed into a thick sweater. The touch dragged him out of the flood and onto dry land, brought him back into now before he even knew what was happening. Karkat’s whole chest was vibrating with some intense cricket-cat hybrid purr, and this should’ve been so embarrassing but he was so tired and so lost and it was fucking comforting, so who the fuck cared. Who cared anymore. It was all bullshit. He could be embarrassed later.

Too soon, Karkat seemed to have the same thought, and tried to pull away. “Shit, sorry, I shouldn’t—fuck, I’m so sorry, this is really presumptive and I know you aren’t even into boys,” he babbled.

Dave groaned, wrapping his arms around Karkat’s chest and pulling him close. “Dude, if you try to make this about alien romance right now, I swear to fuck,” he gasped out between harsh sobs. Christ, he was going harder than Karkat did like twenty minutes earlier, what the fuck.

Karkat paused. Good. It meant his warm arms were still there. “Dave, I…I mean, this is troll romance, this is textbook moiraillegience, and I shouldn’t just be throwing myself at you because you had a moment of weakness, no matter how bad I, uh.”

Dave sniffled, wracked his brain for a moment…Karkat had explained this stuff about a million times, which one was…”That’s like…the bros quadrant, right?”

“The what.”

“The one that’s, like, platonic and shit.”

“…Yeah?” The cricket-purr started up again, cautiously.

“We fuckin’ kinda do most of that shit already, don’t we?” Like. Yeah. He wasn’t gay. That was still a thing. But Karkat was warm and solid and real and Dave was fucking exhausted and didn’t want to be alone, especially not when he felt right now like he was wrapped in safety. “Please, Karkat,” he added, because why not beg. He was already at maximum pathetic, there was no digging this hole lower, fuck it. “I really don’t wanna be alone right now, just, please don’t go.”

Karkat was quiet for a long moment, but finally, the cricket-purr went back to full volume and Karkat’s arms tightened around him.

“Okay,” Karkat said quietly. Dave let out a breath he’d barely known he’d been holding and went back to crying.

“We’re going to have to talk about this later,” Karkat murmured, which put him at about normal volume for anyone else.

“Later, then,” said Dave, and let himself finally fall the fuck asleep.

#dave strider #karkat vantas #davekat #roxy lalonde #longpost//#u BET UR BUTT THIS OENS GOIN IN THE DAVEKAT TAG #ITS ABOUT TIME #fanfic #fanfiction #calmvsstormfic #calmvsstormchapter #katt does a writing #jkdfsgfjhsfjshf not the best start to a relationship but like its something #lord this got long.#why tf did i think 32 and 33 would ever fit into one chapter.

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allthecommas · 7 years

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made to thrive

guysss so this is a meant-to-be pilot of the fic I started in March and never meant to publish!!!! might be a biiiit too long for tumblr but since i am still waiting for ao3 to let me in, here it goes

(pls be subtle, I really don’t write this much)

Bellamy x Raven

(multichapter fic since there’s way too few of them)

european setting au, modern setting au, bookstore au

word count: 2,665

Chapter one: van Goghs and cockroaches

Bellamy Blake couldn't really recall the last time he was so confused. And he has spent the last two months living in a bus with his at least slightly unstable little sister who clearly felt obliged to have him uncertain of his own bloodline at least four times per day.

It's been five years since he's moved to Galway. It's been four years since his odd father freed a studio apartment for him so he has somewhere nice to stay at and doesn't need to occupy a dorm room. It's been three years since he's been coming back on this exact day, October 11th, to the closest of home he has ever had.

And it's been solid 6 minutes of him staring at completely strange bags and a suitcase (a. goddamn. strange. suitcase.) for some reason placed chaotically on his bed.

His bed of 4 years.

He sat next to the suitcase exhaling loudly and put his phone out of his bag meaning to call Marcus and make him explain this unexpected occupation of his bedroom, when he heard the noise of the front door's locks. He rushed out to see and almost bumped into some blond chick, which made her drop the paper bag she must have been holding.

"What the fuck?!" she screeched, with pure horror in her baby blue eyes watching the liquids dripping on the floor through the paper.

"Yeah, what the fuck?" he echoed, taking a step back and crossing his arms on his chest.

"We need a wiper" she stated to herself rather than to him, ignoring his question and the Annoyed Face he put on, then turned around and made her way to the kitchen while he was focusing all his energy on standing there still and badass, not showing any sings of awkwardness nor inside imbalance.

"Make it quick, it's Macacauba!" He shouted to make himself look intimidating, just as if his knowledge of what Macacauba is could intimidate her and then consequently stared down at her while she was wiping the vegan yogurts off his floor, holding back the temptation of dropping 'you missed a spot' kind of comment.

"It's all your fault" she announced casually when she was done with cleaning and comfortably placed herself on a kitchen stool.

"Who the hell are you?" He cut, making it sound more like an accusation than an actual question.

She eyed him up and down, frowning.

"Certain Marcus did tell you."

"It's not the answer to my question" he said, realising that he hasn't moved for a little bit too long for someone who's not feeling caught off guard. "He didn't."

"But he must have" she argued "He discussed the content of the e-mail with me. Long ago. Back in May I suppose."

He tilted his head slightly in a ???? meme manner.

"He must have" the blonde repeated but her face softened. She stood up and walked up to him, with her right in the very front. "Anyhow. Clarke Griffin."

He looked at her hand suspiciously like it was about to bite him and didn't really let it show, but he recalled. He remembered. Early June, after the last time he has seen Kane, he in fact received an e-mail from him. Telling him about some Art student from Boston, some Clark, that will be staying in Galway for a year. He couldn't say he payed much attention to it though, his mind was already occupied with the road trip he and Octavia were planning and all the formalities he needed to have closed beforehand so he just slipped through the text and crafted a brief reply. But he could bet his left arm, there was nothing about this dude living in his house. Or about this dude being a chick.

All of this flashed in his head in a second before he forced his brows up and shook given hand.

"Since when is Clark a female name?" saying this seemed more appropriate that his name. "Clark Gable wasn't a chick."

"It's Clarke with an "e"."

•••

"Could you please pack it up for me? It's a gift."

Raven shot a glance at the queue seemingly growing each second, continuously expanding the place it occupied in the store and then locked her eyes back on the customer. The familiar face of the elderly lady asking her for such favour was kind and hopeful, with visible sense of pride for her choice and by all means, Raven would have helped her with utmost pleasure. If it wasn't for the six, oh, seven, people waiting impatiently. It was October 11th, new academic year has only just begun and people were getting desperate for all sorts of books that might or might not turn out to be helpful. She personally didn't find the assortment of her work place any close to satisfying and would never choose this exact place to trust her degree on but she knew it was a spot the closest to the campus area and the nice setting has successfully made up for the lacks on the shelves. At least the crowd she was now seeing implied so.

So, yeah, on any other day she would gladly paint the box in which the lady planned to place the copy of Levin's "Stepford Wives" with her own hands. But not today.

"A bag is the best I can do for now" she said with the sincerest smile she could produce.

"A bag is barely impressing' the old lady frowned 'I would prefer something more... Oh, you know... Sophisticated..."

Oh, and she wold prefer to leave this exact minute. And she would prefer for her co-worker to show up like he was supposed to do twenty minutes ago. And she would prefer to have a couple of loving, wealthy Irish parents. But most importantly, she would prefer for Galway not to be so expensive or at least for Mexican peso not to be so cheap so she wouldn't have to come here four times a week to make for a living but this world is a cruel place and barely ever asks what we would prefer.

"Then I can give you a shiny box and a golden ribbon" she said sweetly instead, noticing the hustle at the end of the line.

"I would not really want to settle for some massively produced decors. This gift, you see, is for a son of mine whom I haven't seen since-"

"- I understand but we are a bookstore and not a-"

"I swear to God, this line hasn't moved in ages!" came to her ears from a fourth person standing.

"- But it is rude to interrupt an old woman speaking. So, this dear son of mine whom I haven't seen since Saint Patrick-"

"It will be €8.71" she gasped, meeting a compassionate glare of a boy following the Old Lady in the queue.

"Without the packing or with the packing?"

"We haven't agreed on any-"

"Exactly. Therefore, you cannot cash me just yet since-"

"I WILL NOT PACK IT FOR YOU."

The humming of the store stopped immediately and Raven could cross her heart that she felt the eyes of every person within a radius of two hundred feet turning into her.

"Beeeecaaause the lovely florist from the salon just vis a vis will do it much better than any of us would ever" a guy with slight homeless vibe slipped behind the counter gracefully, flashing a half-mouth smile in the space in front of him like he was expecting the cameras to document his reality tv worthy entrance "And" he continued, as he reached for the store's business card and wrote something with a wide gesture "if you mention the name John Murphy from Arcadia, you will get your packing half-price." He blinked while passing her the piece of paper and the customer exclaimed few more long words before she left all content. Raven used the opportunity to swap to the second cash register and turn it on with her co-worker ID.

"You’re late" she hissed through her teeth once Murphy was done with posing (or at least relatively done since she couldn't imagine him totally not-posing).

"Observant" he commented briefly, not taking his sight from the customer's face. "It's €1.01 charge and a free bookmarker for you. Have an eventful night."

"26 minutes late you cockroach" she detailed, noticing 19.56 displayed on the cash register's screen while putting the sum €2.19 for five pensils.

"See?" he lifted his brow not even giving her a slight stare "Just 26 minutes and you already managed to fuck up."

"I wouldn't if you were here so I'd be on my way home just as I was supposed to be."

"So what is the reason behind you staying here and hurting my mother's native grammar instead of getting your angry ass out?"

She tried. She really did. She tried to be friendly with him the first couple of days, she tried to be indifferent towards him for the next few and she even tried to help him today. (Tonight, actually, since it was pitch dark outside already.) But that was the moment where she just tossed her ID on the counter and stormed out of the building, leaving him with another six people waiting in line.

And then there was the next moment when she came back and slicked into the stuff rooms because she couldn't really leave in her uniform.

•••

With an "e" or without an "e", Clarke or Klak, his unexpected roommate was highly inconvenient. Bellamy didn't have any problems with girls around as long as they were around for one night. But every other night for the next ten months? Extremely inconvenient.

It's not like she was completely horrible or something. She actually seemed bearable. A bit too bossy and hella tense for an artist but she took her stuff out of his bedroom once she was asked to do so and they even had something like a conversation so he didn't hate her. At least for now.

But he sincerely enjoyed living alone. His flat was his cave. Casa de Blake has reached the status of an actual legend of Galway, house parties he hosted there were never big but always eventful, he had a reputation he has been building for months and he was determined to keep it.

"I'm sure we'll get along just fine' said Clarke with an "e". 'It's not like you're setting this place on fire every Friday, right?".

Oh, of course not.

He didn't mind a drama every now and again but mostly, he was coming in peace and wished some peace for himself. He didn't really like the idea of fighting with his roommate two up to five evenings a week.

He didn't like the idea of giving up his lifestyle either and that was exactly what he was not going to do.

And when he eventually got acquainted with the thought of pissing this blond van Goth off on a weekly basic, she called Kane 'dad'.

"I mean, he's my stepdad' she corrected right away. 'But we're very close and he doesn't mind me calling him dad, so."

So. sO. S o.

Pissing off a blond van Goth? Acceptable. Fine. Fun, perhaps.

Pissing off a new daughter of his odd parent, his benefactor, the Prime Minister of Ireland, Marcus Henry Ian Kane, the one who pays for his eight-floor city-centre studio apartment, the one who pays his university tuition, the one who's paid for the vacation of his lifetime, the one who's been his and his sister's only family ever since they've got orphaned seven years ago, the one who has shown him nothing but good will and unconditional support? Unacceptable. Definitely not fine. Could still be fun but not worth it.

The longer he thought about her, the more he needed to escape. So he did.

And headed right to the bookstore.

"Okay, sorry but I need to leave you here. I have a date." He said.

"Okay, sorry but I need to leave you here. I feel an intense need to compulsively buy a seventy eighth book about Roman Empire or Greek mythology or Celtic tales so I can drown myself in it and forget about your existence for a while." He didn't say. Not because he was ashamed of it. He just wasn't quite ready to share such information.

Silly as it sounds, his books were always the most personal element of his personality. Taking about his ex-girlfriend was easier than mentioning his favourite titles. The books he chose were always specific, always reflected his inside wars in a way he partly couldn't, partly didn't want to explain.

Bookstores were his safe spots. He didn't really expect any of his party buddies to show up there. When Octavia was away, he only let his guard down among the shelves full of undiscovered stories. It was geeky, he knew, but there, he didn’t mind in the slightest.

He used to feel himself in his flat too, those rare moments when he was there alone, of course, but that was not going to happen a lot now and that made him tense. He was way too shaken to notice that his steps directed at the closest bookstore were faster, more rapid than usual.

He could almost physically feel his though persona falling behind him the further he was from the flat. He might have been a drama queen, he might have been spoiled or ungrateful or overreacting but the thought of sharing his sacred living space with some intruder, regardless of who she was and how was her name spelled, made him sick. He didn’t need this kind of entertainment in his live. What he needed now was stability. It was his last year. What he needed now was his routine, the first routine he has ever had in his fucked up life, the routine he has worked for.

He was way too shaken to notice the tiny girl with a high ponytail and huge dark eyes standing in his way before he bumped into her, her head buried in his chest.

Overwhelmed by the déjà vu, completely done with the shit the world was pulling today, he didn't apologize. And neither did she. He didn't pass her by and neither did she.

All she did was taking half a step back, lifting her head up to face him, to glare at him with vivid annoyance and ire. And since that was the second time during the last two hours when he bumped into an arrogant chicken-sized girl with unnormal, big eyes, he felt this ire transferring into him.

"Out of my way" she barked, waiting for him to move. He couldn't really comprehend what did he do to deserve such treatment but he didn't care. On any other day he would just rush further, dropping a "sorry" behind him. But he happened to have an awfully rough day and he discovered that he actually was furious too, ready to pick up a fight with this smol angry bean if that was what she asked for.

"I was just about to say that" he stared at her, straight into her face, ignoring how pleasant to look at she was, determined for her to turn back first, no matter how long it took.

Keeping her eyes locked on his, her mouth clenched, brows frowned, she raised her hand and in a quick move pressed a fag to the lapel of his coat and smashed it, making a small but visible hole in the material before she rushed past him into the dark.

Completely poleaxed, he turned around and stared at the silhouette fading away for something that felt like a ridiculous amount of time to stand still in the middle of the street.

He managed to notice her gimping slightly on one leg and catch her voice saying "Finn, you still there?" continuing the phone call she must have started before.

#braven fic #rellamy fic #blayesnetwork #braven #rellamy #bellamy x raven #the 100 fic #majka writes

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burgeonmeraki · 4 years

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20 Random Things You Don’t Know About Me

Hi guys! I thought I would do something a little fun, humiliating (LOL), and different on my blog today and share 20 things you might not know about me. I get it. As a reader, I, too, love learning a bit more about the people I read. So here goes!

1. I have this weird habit where I want my feet warm especially at night before I go to sleep. I usually put some lotion on it and then put my socks on. And if there are no socks, I put a pillow under my feet, like I'm a mermaid LOL. Weird, I know! But it prevents me from having leg cramps in the morning.

That is my trophy for the singing contest. This picture was taken 2010, and I couldn’t find my trophy anymore so deal with that picture. Just kiddin’

2. I won first place at a singing contest at a talent show back when I was in kindergarten. I sang this 90s hit song My Heart Will Go On By Celine Dion. And I believe that if my parents put me or enrolled me in a voice lesson, girl, I could've been a singer today, and I might be joining singing contest like The Voice. But I only do the singing thing at the shower and karaoke. Hahaha

Left Pic: My oldest brother wasn’t there because he was working abroad Right Pic: My oldest sister is living in Canada, and my older brother is living in South Korea. My mom was holding her phone because that's them on the videocall.

3. I was supposed to have six siblings so that would make us a total of seven. I had an oldest sister, supposed to be the second child, who died because of some complications in her heart when she was still a newborn. Next is my Ate Jaz, which makes her my oldest sister alive. Then after Ate Jaz, my mom had a miscarriage. Basically, my Ate was in between two dead babies. And if ever my two siblings were alive today, I might not be here or I probably don't exist. I have such a huge age gap with my siblings because my mom had me at the age of 38, and she said that I was her only child who made her pregnancy and giving birth so hard. I was born via C-Section and the rest of my siblings were all delivered normal. So, lucky me for being here! LOL

My collection of Candy Magazine back in High School.

4. Back in High School, I used to collect Candy Magazine until first-year college. This magazine helped me with all my teenage issues like self-esteem, body image, peer pressure, beauty, fashion, dating, friendship, career, etc. They have a bunch of articles there that I enjoyed reading. And I've always wanted to be one of their models, but I was an ugly duckling, and I'm not the confident type of girl back then. I still kept these magazines inside my sentimental box.

This is my box full of photos, letters, diaries, and other stuff.

5. Speaking of the sentimental box, I'm a very sentimental person. I have boxes of stuff from my friends, family, and ex-boyfriends. I kept this stuff for good memories purposes because I like reminiscing good memories. It reminds me of these real moments that I was once shared with these people, and it's like my return ticket to that memories, whether it's funny, romantic, or sad. Plus good times need to be remembered. They need to celebrate and felt. You know, we're not getting any younger anymore, time will come that a part of our brain might forget those memories. So keeping pictures, letters, and diaries is one way to keep those memories alive.

These are my IDs from the Youth Camp Fellowship.

6. I used to be active in Church back when I was in High School. I even joined the Music Ministry and tried to learn how to play the piano. I went to a few Youth Camp Fellowship and met a lot of people, and it was fun. The reason why I became so active in Church because I had a crush on our drummer guy (he’s my first kiss). Yuck! LOL

vimeo

Love Me Like You Do By Ellie Goulding (Short Clip) / Stay By Rihanna (Cover)

7. As I was saying on number 6, I used to play the piano before. They made us choose a musical instrument that we want to play, and I was supposedly gonna go for drums because it's cool, plus I used to listen to a lot of rock bands back then, but I didn't choose it because my crush is going to be the one who's going to teach us, and I was shy, so I end up with piano. I actually tried learning how to play the guitar but you got to have callouses on your fingers in order to play it well because it freaking hurts girl! Hehe

8. Okay, let's talk about Puppy Love. When I was in grade school, I have a crush on this guy who's like 3 years older than me, and he's our neighbor. When I got into 6th grade, he started noticing me, and we became, I don't know, together? Like boyfriend and girlfriend? Haha. But since I'm a shy type kind of girl, I was having a hard time talking to him without blushing, I couldn't even let him hold my hands, or hug me, or kiss me. None of that happened. So we write letters to each other (cellphone is not a thing at that time). I know it's all cheesy and mushy and all, but anyways. I asked my niece to be our messenger haha. So I will give the letter to her, and she will give it to him, and then vice versa. Okay, so this is the funny part!! My niece left my goddamn letter for him at our dining table! And my sister and brother read the whole thing. I was so annoyed at my niece. My siblings were like mad at me for having a boyfriend at such a young age because you know, I'm their little sister, and little sissy is not allowed to have a boyfriend LOL. And then they threatened me that they're going to tell it to my mom, so I broke up with him after a week using a letter haha. We kept in touch til I got into High School. I think we went out before, we watch a movie but I brought a chaperone with me. HAHA we didn’t end up together because he’s such a playboy. FYI: I don't count him as my ex-boyfriend. LOL

youtube

9. I had a puppy named Mocha because she’s dark brown and it suits her. She’s a shih tzu and she’s the cutest puppy in the world but she died because she got sick. I miss her so much! :(

Snorkeling at Coron, Palawan.

10. I love going to the beach. I love swimming! My mom’s sister owns a beach resort and it was just an hour away from our place. We always go there every summer, and that’s where I learned how to swim, not in the swimming pool, but in the ocean. I was supposedly going to be a swimmer. My 4th grade teacher trained me, and he trained other students in other sports like badminton and volleyball, and they joined sports competition, and they win medals. So I got very interested because I want to win medals too. So I did my training but I was having a hard time to dive. I know I'm doing it wrong because the water kept going inside my nose and it freaking hurts. So I stopped and quit the training because I couldn't do it properly. Haha

I think I was in 3rd Grade in here. Lol

11. I joined Girl Scout back in grade school. I can't remember why I joined. All I know is I am going to have a lot of fun in here. And that was my first camping experience. We camped out at our school, and yeah, it was fun and scary at the same time because there are lots of ghost stories in our school. Our motto: "Girl Scouts are always ready and prepared.”

I also joined Drum & Bugle. I was a Majorette, the one who throws the baton in the air and twirls it. I just love to dance back then, and nope, I'm not a professional dancer. It's just that life is better when you dance! :)

Junior Year High School. Cheer Dance Competition during our Intramurals Day.

12. When I got into High School, I've always wanted to join Cheer Dance Competition since I was in my freshman year. But most of the girls in my school back then were all pretty and mean. I only joined when I was in my junior year, and we won 2nd place. I'm really not a good dancer, but I know I've got moves. I just don't know what happened today LOL. I'm one of those girls who they always lift and toss because obviously in the picture I'm thin as a rake haha. Then I tried joining again in College, and I got into an accident. I freaking fell flat on my back while we're doing our pyramid stunt and no one's there to catch me. Ouchie! I'm on the second level, standing on my right leg at this guy's shoulder, and then my left leg was angled and lifted because on the third level, a girl's going to stand on my left thigh. She was scared and not keeping her balance well so she dragged me backward with her. Someone caught her and none for me because the way I go down the pyramid is by jumping in front. Our coach didn't see that coming and I thought I am gonna go home with broken hips.

Left to Right: Elementary Graduation Day; Sophomore Year in College; Junior Year - wearing retainer; Retainer and Braces Free

13. I first had my braces when I was in 6th grade because my sister got one, so I want one too LOL. I had it for a very long time. Since I got it at such a young age, my teeth were not complete yet. And based on my x-ray, I've got several impacted wisdom tooth that's going to come out so my doctor waited for it. I only got it removed when I was in my 3rd-year college. So I had my braces for 7 years. HAHA

14. I can’t whistle. I tried. I don’t know how to. I can’t do it. PERIOD

Cupcake Nail Art, Cheetah Print Nail Art, Polka Dots Nail Art

15. I love doing my nail art from when I was in High School to College. I don't like my nails plain and simple back then, so I put a design on it and make it fun. I'm always into art and being creative. Creativity is inventing, experimenting, growing, taking risks, breaking rules, making mistakes, and having fun. So my parents saw that potential in me, and they made me choose Architecture as my profession.

These are my high school arts that I saw on my facebook LOL.

Circa 2015. Photographed By: Iks Virina

16. I'm not a morning person. I hate waking up so early. I only wake up so early if I have important errands to run or if I have to go to work. I love sleeping during the day and staying up during the night. I'm a night owl. There's something about being up at night that makes it more peaceful to work and think. Most of my creative juices come out during the night. And I've read that night owls have better mental alertness than early risers. I don't need caffeine to keep me up at night. LOL

Circa 2015. Photographed By: Iks Virina

17. I'm not a coffee person. Don't get me wrong, I love the smell of coffee. It's just that the coffee doesn't like me at all. Every time I drink coffee, especially those with high caffeine like espresso, I end up palpitating and having heartburn. I can drink it but not too much, and sometimes I preferred Frappuccino. I'm more of a tea person. I love chamomile and red berries flavors.

FEU I.D. vs BPSU I.D.

18. I went to two schools back in College. When I was in my senior year in High School, I didn't really plan my college life. I have no idea what school I am going to attend. I only know was my mom wants me to take up Architecture even though I don't want to. So yeah, I end up going to Far Eastern University for 2 years. Then, my Dad, he was working abroad in Libya, and there was a war at that time in the Middle East. So they had to go home and stopped working. We have no income, we had financial issues, and that's when I decided to return home and study in my hometown, get a scholarship because I have no choice. I was in college for 6 years, supposedly 5 years only but I had to retake some of my subjects that I already took up in my previous school because the school didn't credit it.

Back in 2015, I tried to dress up like Blair Waldorf. She loves wearing headband hehe

19. My favorite show of all time is Gossip Girl. It's like the first rated r tv shows that I really got hooked up and fall in love with. It's the reason why I've always wanted to go to New York. I have watched this already a few times, and it doesn't get old. I love Serena Van Der Woodsen (Blake Lively), her style, and the way she carries her clothes. She's this free-spirited, charming, nice, laidback IT GIRL. And then Blair Waldorf (Leighton Meester) aside from her classy, preppy style, I like her domineering and loyal personality. Plus her romantic on and off love affair with Chuck Bass (Ed Westwick). But my biggest crush on this show is Nate Archibald (Chace Crawford), oh god I love his eyes, it's so sexy! HAHA

Sandbox Adventure at Pampanga; Bike Trailing and Wakeboarding at Nuvali, Laguna; and Skimboarding at Boracay

20. I love some good adventure. I have this bucket list of things to do before I die, and I want to fulfill that. Like traveling the whole world, plus I want to go skydiving or bungee jumping. Aside from that, you're just not creating memories, you're also trying new things. And I'm always up for trying new things, and I like challenging myself sometimes. Life is boring if you don't at least try or go out of your comfort zone. Just try new things once in a while, and don't be afraid to soar high.

What’s something random about you? And if you make a post, share it below. Thank you so much for dropping by!

Love Lots, Jamie

#lifestyle

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darveyfics · 7 years

Note

Mike and Rachel walk in on Harvey and Donna having sex.

I’m clearly not that great at filling out prompts because this is only marginally what you asked - sorry (✖╭╮✖)- hopefully it’s still enjoyabe.

Caught

A pale orangeglow seeps in through the ceiling-high windows of his bedroom, a special color,privy to big city sunrises one can only appreciate from a tall building. It’s apoetic sight, the way the light refracts through the glass in golden pyramids andspills onto the floor, romantic even - not that they’re at all interested.

Nobody hastime for poetry when they’ve only slept for three hours and need to be up inone.

They’re onhis bed, draped over each other naked with every blanket kicked off to the edge,completely out. Spent from staying up until 3 am on a Tuesday having sex, becauseit’s only been a week since they quit pretending they didn’t want to betogether in every way possible.

They can’tand won’t stop initiating contact and it’s great, but not really practical. Besides, all the synchronizedyawning and late arrivals only five telling minutes apart from each otheraren’t helping in the way of keeping their new status a secret.

She thinks they should get over the novelty soon,he argues they just need to get an earlier start. Either way it’s taking itstoll which is why Donna could just about kill someone when a ringtone fills theroom at barely seven am.

She grunts,rage filled and exhausted, and stretches over Harvey’s back to wrap her fingersblindly around the cellphone buzzing and screeching on the nightstand.

“What isit?” She mumbles aggressively without checking caller-ID.

“Donna?”It’s Mike. He sounds fully rested and her resentment at that is unparalleled.

“Mike? Whatthe hell do you need from me at 7 am?” She asks, forcing herself into a sittingposition and pulling up a blanket to cover her chest as she leans against the headboard.

He hesitatesand she rolls her eyes at the delay “So?” Donna pushes.

She hearshim clear his throat and then “I called Harvey.” He says.

There’s abeat where her sleep deprived mind tries and fails to interpret that sentence “What?”

“I called Harvey,” he repeats more pointedly.

In adreadful second that feels like missing a step on the stairs, the penny dropsfor her.

Donna pullsthe phone away from her ear and stares dumbfounded at an unflattering pictureof Mike eating a hotdog labeled “Kid” with the call time underneath. Harvey’s phone.

She’s wide-fucking-awake now.

“Donna, whydo you have Harvey’s-” Mike starts, and she cannot see him but she can justpicture the shit-eating grin he has on right then.

“Don’t” Sheinterrupts.

“But-” Hetries again.

“I swear toGod,” She threatens, “Tell him what you need and don’t ask any questions.”

“Donna-”

“Shut up,I’m putting him on.” She tells him, then turns towards the man virtually dead besideher and nudges him with a hand to his back “Harvey, wake up” she half-whispers.

It’sineffective.

She grabshis shoulder, shakes him a little more than lightly and tries again, “Wake up, yourstray puppy needs you.”

That hashim mumbling incoherently and turning his head to face her “Wa-t?”

“Mike’s onthe line” she explains and waves the phone at his face.

Harveygrunts and lets his face drop to the pillow once again, mouthing curses into itbefore pushing his torso away from the mattress and laying on his side to pickup.

“Why areyou waking me up at seven in the goddamn morning?” he asks, annoyed, running ahand over his face to try and wake up fully.

“I think abetter question is why Donna iswaking you up at seven in the goddamn morning,” Mike retorts.

Harvey’seyes widen as he catches up to the situation. Donna rolls her eyes at hissurprise.

“It soundslike you’re asking questions,” she says loudly so Mike can listen.

Harvey slowlyturns to her and mouths, does he know?

She is runningout of ways to show exasperation “Obviously.”

“But how?”

“It was anaccident, just-” She snatches the phone away from his hand “Mike, what do youwant?” Donna asks tiredly.

“I wannaknow why you and Harvey sound like you just woke up on the same bed,” he deadpans.

She sighs, so much for trying to keep a low profile,“I’m hanging up.”

Mike wastesno time “Donna and Harvey sitting in a tree! K I S S-” His singing cuts offwhen she presses ‘end call’.

“What didhe want?” Harvey asks.

Donna sighs,“To annoy me.” She says, letting his cell drop to the covers.

He looks ather pensively for a moment, then shrugs “Well, there’s no taking it back now”he concludes.

She nods,resigned, “No, there isn’t” She picks up her own phone – double checking it’sreally hers even though she’s just gotten rid of the alternative – and startsdialing.

“Who areyou calling?” he asks, trying to catch a glimpse of the screen.

“Louis.” Shesays simply.

“Are we ona reveal tour that I need to know about?”

Donna rollsher eyes “I’m telling him to hold down the fort because we’re skipping workthis morning.”

“What,why?” He asks, pushing himself up until he’s sat down facing her.

His chestis bare and, if not for the blanket strategically tangled at his waist and aroundthe top of his thighs, so is everything else. Donna takes this opportunity tocruise his body with her eyes; it’s a good view, specially now that she can do something about it.

“Because,”she starts, leaning towards him “Mike will be insufferable,” she whispers, herface and inch away from Harvey’s “And” she says, and kisses him, slowly butwith intent, burying the fingers not holding her phone on the short hairs atthe back of his neck, running her nails over his scalp and reveling in theshivers it elicits before trapping his bottom lip between her teeth and pullingback until it slips loose again “We have better things to do,” She finishes.

Donnawatches him swallow thickly and bring his thumb to smooth over the lip she’sjust worried “Can’t argue that.” He says, voice low and hoarse, staring at herhungrily.

She smirksat him with promise as the incoming ring cuts off and she hears Louis’ voicegreet her good-naturedly.

“Louis,morning. Can you take care of everything around the firm until lunch?” She saysas Harvey begins to pull at the sheet she’d been using to cover her breastswhile trailing kisses up her neck, “I have some errands to run and-” she gasps,covering the receiver just in time to mask it, when Harvey sucks a spot underher earlobe that makes her back arch. She glares at him for distracting her,but he just smirks and sticks to his task, moving on to her collarbone, “And Harveywanted me to tell you he’s not feeling well, so he might not show up either.”

Harveypulls back then to narrow his eyes at her for the weak excuse. She answers witha look that very clearly means shut thehell up; I know what I’m doing.

There is amoment of silence while Louis says something else that has a smile spreading acrossher face “I’m sure he’ll be fine” she says, shooting Harvey a winning glare “Thankyou, Louis.” Donna adds before hanging up “He isn’t the brightest about you andI,” she points out.

Harvey istempted to argue but decides to concede, leaning in for another, softer, kiss, “Mike’sgonna be such a smartass about this,” he murmurs into her lips.

She hums anagreement and he kisses her again, closed lips and sweet like the first, beforepulling back and seeking out her eyes “I don’t really care,” he says earnestly.

He is notunsure or embarrassed, he is not afraid of what people will think and he’scertainly not taunted by any jokes a friend who loves them both could ever make.As far as Harvey’s concerned, everything about this is reason for pride.

Donna must understandbecause she smiles kindly and brings a hand to caress his cheek lovingly. “Buthe will make such bad jokes”she says with a laugh.

It pops the bubble and Harvey can’t help but follow suit, wishing every morning would start just like this - together.

(but hopefully a little later)

#suits usa #darvey #donna x harvey #suits #darvey fic #prompt #one shot #author: maria

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theliterateape · 5 years

Text

The Primary Reason I Didn’t Vote in the Illinois Primary

By David Himmel

“The flag should never be displayed with the union down, except as a signal of dire distress in instances of extreme danger to life or property.” —U.S Code 176

I didn’t see the usual “I VOTED” stickers from my darling and my annoying social media friends on Super Tuesday III—as MSNBC was calling it in further effort to make the news feel like a Rocky film. That is due in part because I didn’t spend much time on social media yesterday. I couldn’t afford that time. I was busy with other stuff. But it also could be because a lot of those social media friends didn’t vote, and if they did, things are so goddamn dour now that bragging about running an errand wasn’t worth the energy it takes to frame, filter, and post a pic proving your citizenship.

I also didn’t vote in the Illinois Primary on Super Tuesday III—again, MSNBC’s title for a voting day because MSNBC is run by dorks who get hard and wet over the most mundane but important aspects of American life.

Yep. I’m that guy. I’m that guy who didn’t vote in the most important primary of our lives. Right? That’s what this is, right? Eh. I’m also that guy who is married to a woman who didn’t vote in the Illinois Primary on Super Tuesday III.

Allow me to digress… Okay, look, I realize that MSNBC didn’t create the Super Tuesday III moniker, but that was the channel my wife had on most of the day as we were holed up in our apartment trying to dodge COVID-19. And I dislike MSNBC almost as much as I dislike FOX News, so I’m easily coerced by my own ego—maybe my id, I don’t know—to take a barely clever shit on its dumb, smug face whenever I can.

Now, back to the important thoughts… I’m that guy who didn’t vote. And I’m that guy whose wife didn’t vote. And I fully expect friends of ours, friends like Rory Zacher to comment on this story or its Facebook post, or to text me and say something to the effect of: “I hope Trump comes into your home, grabs your two-year-old-son by the pussy and builds a wall around your toilet. That’s what you get for not voting.” And that’s fine. Because my son doesn’t have a pussy. Just ask him. He will proudly tell you he has a penis and that “Mommy penis… bye-bye.” And that reminds me… I need to teach my son that a penis is not something that all people have then goes “bye-bye.” That’s sexism. And it only applies, respectfully, to rich trannies.

I’m a politico. I even write and host podcasts for POLITICO. But I didn’t vote. Why? Well, duh…

The primary reason I didn’t vote in the Illinois Primary yesterday—Rachel Maddow’s third best orgasm of 2020—is simple: It wasn’t important.

My vote would not have mattered. Nope. I don’t want to hear it. It wouldn’t have mattered. I would have chosen a Democratic Ballot. Between the job, trying to keep Literate Ape functioning, missing Don Hall like the deserts miss the rain, being an engaged dad and attentive husband, and thinking through two film projects, one novel, and a book of poetry, I did not have the bandwidth to consider those down-ballot elections. I like to think of myself as non-partisan. I would easily vote republican if I thought a republican candidate could do the job right. But if I had voted today, I would have asked for a Democratic ballot, which means I would have ben voting for the best of the most useless so-called liberal. Maybe there were general contests to vote for, I don’t know. Because I mostly don’t care. And I’ll come back to that in a moment. As it relates to voting for the president, well… I’d prefer Bernie. But, if Old Joe Dementia gets the nomination, that’s fine. I know Bernie won’t get done all he wants to get done because he’ll never have the support of Congress required to do it. See, the thing that most people forget is that the president is designed to be the Face, not the Ruler. It’s Congress that makes the difference. And come the general election, I’ll likely vote Democrat all the way down. Except for judges. But that’s a complicated story for another time.

The primary reason I didn’t vote in the Illinois Primary yesterday—Rachel Maddow’s third best orgasm of 2020—is simple: It wasn’t important.

So even I had voted, it wouldn’t have mattered. Some excited wank aligned with the Democratic Party would be elected over an equally excited wank aligned with the Democratic Party. And then it’ll be a fight to the finish against a republican cocknozzle who wants to be as (un)cool as Devin Nunes. And my vote for Bernie, and my wife’s vote for Bernie, would not have helped keeping him from getting trounced the same way the Houston Astros trounced the rules of baseball. Thing is, if I had voted, I’d feel far more disappointed than I am right now. And you should know, dear reader, that my secondary goal in life is to master disappointment. The first goal is to convince myself, my wife, and every girlfriend I’ve ever had that I was worth the lay.

Yeah, yeah, Zacher, I know, I could have early voted. And I thought about that. “Maybe we should do that,” I said to my wife, Katie. Or maybe she said it to me. But we didn’t. Why? I dunno. Because this primary didn’t matter much in our household, I suppose. And that’s selfish, I know. But we’re white and not broke, and we own a boat, and we have so many friends who can afford in vitro and all that shit—like multiple times, all of them—so what the fuck do you expect from us?

So, the primary reason I didn’t vote in the Illinois Primary is because it wasn’t important. And not just because I don’t care about the flawed system or the sub-basement candidates. But because when I considered the risk of casting a vote for one fuckhead over another at risk of contracting COVID-19, I chose to stay home and have Zoom meetings with co-workers.

But here’s the other thing—that goddamn coronavirus. Yep. I’m not afraid, but I’m not an idiot. I’ve been a healthcare journalist to varying degrees for ten years. I was the editor in chief of Chicago Health magazine for six years. I’m a senior healthcare reporter for POLITICO. I’m not bragging (should I?), I’m just setting the stage to tell you that I’m not an everyday idiot. I’m a special kind of idiot! I recognize this shit is real. It was real the moment it left Wuhan. And really, it was real the moment it left the bat and made its way into the first human, or however the fuck this goddamn thing began.

Katie was sick on Sunday. A slight fever, which dropped quickly, was not the great concern. The great concern was her hydration because she was—how can I put this politely—shitting out of her mouth and pissing out of her ass for a good twenty-four hours. Three days later, she’s still struggling to find her normal. And now our boy has a fever. Tuesday afternoon, he broke through 100ºF with the gusto we all wanted Hillary to break through that glass ceiling. (Alas, another white male out did a woman. Yeah, I’m as perturbed by it as you are, brah/sista.)

Do they have COVID-19? Probably not. But were/are they ill? Yep. And in a time when we know less than almost fuck all about this pandemic, should someone exposed to their snot, breath, and farts venture out to a voting booth, take hold of a communal pen, and breathe on every available surface? Nah. Probably not.

As of this writing, I feel great. My bowel movements are as liquid as they usually are and my ability to breathe is as normal as it usually is, which is to say, I can smell all the farts in my house. The lingering ones… the ones living in the couch cushions, the ones that aren’t mine or Katie’s or Harry’s, but those of some of our dearest friends. You know who you are, couch farters.

My office shut down last week after the news that someone in one of the largest downtown Chicago office complexes was tested positive for COVID-19. The agency I work for has taken some drastic measures to ensure its survival as has almost every single organization in the United States with employees and clients to consider. This shit is ugly. And with each passing day, it look smore and more like a more devastating. I mean, they’ve stopped the money. No NBA. No NCAA. No goddam casinos! When America shuts down it’s money, you know shit is real. This is stranger and more dire and more uncertain than 9/11. And 9/11 was fucking fucked up. You remember, right?

So I didn’t vote. I’m on a minor quarantine. Since I’m the only person in our household—other than the dog—without any flu-like or ass dynamite symptoms, I’m the one who makes the Walgreens runs and walks that mooch of a dog (whom I love). And as In pass other dog walkers, or the rare jogger or Walgreens runner, we take extra steps aside to avoid each other—three feet at least! And we give a knowing nod to say, “Don’t vote, dude. Those pens are not getting whipped down. I know they say they are, but come on. We all know that’s not true. The wipedowns are dependent on poorly paid democratic (lowercase D, morons, calm down) do-gooders who would rather be at home than have you breathing and coughing on them.”

The outcome of the 2020 election, presidential and every more important down-ballot ticket will not be determined by my staying at home. And if it does, it doesn’t matter. Because even if Old Joe Dementia gets the nomination, even if Trump is reelected, even if Kim Fox marries Jussie Smollet’s straight alter-ego, my vote yesterday—Super Tuesday III when Brian Williams and Rachel Maddow scissor to the tune of Europe’s “The Final Countdown” during Morning Joe, nothing is more important than the health of my family, myself, and my neighborhood. Especially when stacked against our decaying democracy, or whatever the fuck we call this shitshow now.

#Election 2020 #Illinois Primary #Illinois Politics #Elections #MSNBC #MSNBC Sucks #Rachel Maddow #Brian Williams #Super Tuesday #elections

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isaacathom · 5 years

Text

like if saval is an assassin, right, we have an immediate moral issue. because her group is not robin hood’ing this shit. this isn’t a righteous murder. this is politics.

the hounds are firm southerners, and imperial loyalists at that. the throne is their lord, as it were, and their goals have shifted with each emperor upon the throne. ergo, we have to look at who was in power during Saval’s life to figure what sort of crimes she’s doing. so for... 8 years, its Treveon II. since 402 (so 12 years, saval is only 20) its Brimeon IV. an important thing about Treveon is that he was far more a diplomat than many of the other modern emperors. The guy was playin the balancing act of power, and he was doing decently. his main dropping of the ball was letting the Shonyul’s get so much power, but he was able to win them back to his side with negotiation. this is the reason the shonyuls havent already revolted against Brimeon - out of respect for Treveon. Treveon was an emperor worthy of such. however, this does not mean he is fully innocent or anything. there were two failed assassinations on dravulean during his time as emperor - while its possible neither were him (or the hounds, as it happens), its unlikely. the 403 and 410 efforts (Dravulean and Larusion respectively) were 100% Hound endeavours, but thats under Brimeon, and thats getting ahead of the curve.

in the context of what happened, id say the 396 attempt was local, but the 399 attempt was a Treveon effort. except, we have another factor - this is after Brimeon’s formal adoption of heir apparent, and it occurs when Treveon is 79. so odds are actually quite high this had a lot more to do with Brimeon and his heavy handed bullshit than Treveon. The hand over was steady, if you follow.

so. in practice. all of saval’s time actively doing stuff has been under Brimeon “Small Dick Energy” IV. alright. if there are 3 whole attempts on the telziado royal family during his tenure, it stands to reason that Brimeon’s hounds are an aggressive bunch. dude doesnt have a lot of power and is trying to make it through threats and violence. many vosti nobles and prominent civilians have likely died by their hands, not to speak of Telziado nobles, and Waal Zaimyalkee + Skarhan politicians. mostly Waal Zaimyalkee. mostly. skarhu is a bit of the way and the hounds dont usually operate there, since its reaaaaaallly fucking annoying to get in and out of. at least with telziad an WZ you can just illegally cross the border through the forests and mountains, no big. gotta catch a fucking ferry and shit, the seas suck, no thanks.

but yea. aggressive. if that holds true, then it stands to reason that a small girl like Saval would make a good assassin. small, fast, etc. that doesnt mean she was. it means she could be. it just heightens the likelihood when you remember that the hounds are basically the extrajudicial arm of the emperor, YEEHAW

so, should she be? doing so would immediately lower that moral bar, since the hounds are absolutely killing people who are threats to the vosti agenda, which often means ‘good’ people. like folk who are pushing a telziado agenda, and so forth. technically dravulean is an exception but they wanna kill him to get a pro-vosti dude (erameon) on the throne (tech his dad but dont worry about it). even if saval is in that situation where she doesnt really have a say (cause, yknow, raised in that environment, etc,etc, the choice thing) it still ISNT GREAT? like im not sure im totally down. like, i dont think saval lacks enough empathy to do that. shes not a fountain of love, but she knows what goddamn regret is.

ooh, possibly that ties into her role as that double agent? the idea behind the double agent thing to dismantle the Scavengers was that the agent was basically a lost cause. they (saval) would take the fall for the whole thing. saval was gonna stay in prison or die for the whole thing, because saval had failed in something unspecified. thats been sort of in her thing for a while. that her role in this plan was to die, because she had ‘served her purpose’. so perhaps she HAD been assigned an assassination (perhaps something minor, or even the big king shit - the poisoning of larusion in 410). if the former, possibly she went all the way through with it but reacted really badly to the whole affair and almost got caught and basically had to be hidden for months to sorta ‘refresh’ the stuff. new codename, etc etc, clear the steam. that would basically signal to the hounds that saval wasn’t really cut out for the important stuff, like the planned full assassination of the royal family, and that it would be best to either relegate her to unrelated matters, OR find a non-murder thing for her to do. Oh look, a suicide mission! fantastic :) if its the latter, then she didn’t end up succeeding. that wasss a multi person job (someone went in long term to become a servant in the palace, someone to supply the stuff, etc) and the servant in that situation already took the fall (like. dravulean killed them, straight up). punishing saval (presumably delivery?) doesnt make much sense. i think it would be the first option. that saval has killed, but it went REALLY badly because she just. fucking. no???? it was way more grisly than it was meant to be, it got way more attention than it was supposed to, and saval had to get an identity refresh to keep safe from the cops. thats not great! but of course, saval wants to prove they still deserve to be in the hounds, because its the only home she’s ever known, etc etc. and so, they give her the suicide mission. it makes her happy, and she does her job well (to a point) and they get to get rid of an underperforming person

while on the face its stupid to put an underperformer in such a position, their rationale wasnt totally stupid. saval was a good petty crim. thievery? boom. spying? yeeee. not like, exceptional, but solid. given that the mission is basically to act as a spy (and a thief in that role) and then act as an official spy for the sinofis guard plays to what saval is good at. plus it does leave the hounds with the possibility that, if they change their mind on what saval ‘deserves’, they could break her out. possibilities!

idk. the plan is complicated. but basically i think saval definitely has blood on her hands, but that she didn’t enjoy it and did it poorly. 0/10

#story blogging #shano fe yula #and there you have it i guess - saval is a /failed/ assassin

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subjectsilver · 7 years

Text

my psyche and wormy be ruthless sometimes.

originally i told myself that i was only going to use tumblr every sunday to log what has happened throughout the week or anything noticeable or note worthy but i literally need to type this right now because I'm losing my goddamn mind and on the verge of a panic attack...i can feel my chest tightening and my heart has such a “funny” feeling that isn't so funny so idk why they call it that... its like a light feeling like when u get light headed - i feel light hearted rn

the absolute worst part about my depression is that it literally just comes and goes whenever it wants. obviously theres things that help trigger it, a song a picture of my ex friends snapchats, any object that i can play connect the dots with back to a single thought that can disrupt my entire mental.

and it hit me tonight and it hit me hard and tonight I'm trying not to run away from it. I'm not going to go smoke cigarettes and listen to music until 5 am I'm trying to just type what is going on instead of like holding it into my head. or type something at least. the thing about it is that whenever it hits me, i always find a way to make it so much worse.... like i see just the right combination of words or objects to sink me or look at pictures of emma and even though i know its hurting me i continue to do it anyway....maybe its because in that moment I'm actually feeling something, she is making me feel something just like she use to in the past. i really valued that until i became too grey and numb and hopeless.

i feel like throwing up

i used “ex” up there and makes me feel really uneasy i haven't used it very much at all mainly because i have to explain myself to anyone here and I've only told a few people what is going on with me. That was good thought because i have a friend named hank who went through some shit too so he kind of connects with me but still not a person i would talk to about shit...i don't really have anyone for that so i don't really know... sometimes i type it all and erase it, sometimes i make songs, sometimes i say it out laid sometimes i just cry.

i started taking prozac 3 days ago this will be the fourth, so hopefully that'll help me. Im still underweight as fuck but oddly I'm comfortable with it bc i like the way my shirts feel and clothes fit, unfortunately i need to gain like 20 pounds if i want to exist on this soccer team which is kinda mad. I was going to suggest leaving wake because i don't really even care to play soccer rn. and i realized a while back that all i needed was in ohio... like i had the best friends the girl of my dreams and i could've had a 1st year internship paying between 40-70k at some health company under my step dad... its kinda shitty because its something i wanted to tell everyone and i would always think about how disappointed my dad would be and how supportive my mom would be but something told me not do make moves with any of it. its like the universe knew i was going to go through some shit. like it knew i was gonna get low and the perfect image of life i had in my head up. like bitch u thought you'd plant roots,,,nahhhhhhtttt

i keep listening to this song on repeat

https://soundcloud.com/yvpoipoi/maxence-cyrin-where-is-my-mind

but the real is back the ville is back

i fucking hated listening to cole until like 2 weeks ago. it was so annoying listening to cole bc of hani playing it literally all the time. when things like that get annoying they because white noise to me. but recently i went through his 3 most recent projects and actually listened heavily to the words and that shit is crazy.

i also have been paying a lot of attention to jay z and beyonce. i guess jay z had an affair or some shit and ten he and “once” went back and forth on songs about it... but i read this quote by him where he was like “our relationship was built on top of lies, and i had to tear it down and build it back up again and it was one of the hardest things I've ever had to do.” thats the kind of shit that gives me hope in the world of relationships. I've accepted that its probably false hope but ill hold onto anything the keeps me going at this point...

my suicidal thoughts haven't been present the last few days but i never know if and when those will come back. to be truthful I've been stacking up on things in my camera roll that give me up for when I'm feeling low.

the light hearted feeling has subsided, i just realized it. i kinda of ignore all grammatical practices when i write freely. i just go with my own language because i feel like its more personal ya know. someone i know annotates her own letters that she use to write me and i always loved that shit because i have so many side thoughts when i write as well.

luke christophers album finally came out and what do you know 5 of the songs had already been released and some like a year ago so its barely anything knew but it still has new music and bangers so i do appreciate the legend himself. after seeing his hair blonde on the cover idk if I'm going to keep growing my hair black or re-dye it. maybe ill keep it blonde until i feel like I'm above 80% better or something right now i feel about -7% (if i could annotate that line id tell you that i originally wrote -7 person instead of percent then i autocorrected person then backspaced it to a symbol)

the last few days I've felt really weak though and I've been sleeping a lot like two days ago i got like 11 hours and yesterday i got like 10 and I've been taking naps during the day. but I've constantly felt like I've had low blood sugar or that I've been dehydrated or something. i can't even make a fist and squeeze that hard.

its crazy because when i type anything about myself ever i just start tearing up for no reason...happy thoughts sad thoughts dark thoughts i could be writing about my microwave and be tearing up. and i do it a lot with emma or my best friends or my ex and ex best friends idk what anyone is to me anymore. been too focussed on trying to survive, which i feel is the correct selfish thing to do for once.

“don't give a fuck and they love you do give a fuck and they hate you - I'm always gone be there for you”

this man luke in onto something

its crazy that i will leave my phone in my room from 7:30 am to 7-8 at night and the only notification that ill get is “your phone hasn't been backed up in 57 weeks” or some shit like that. occasionally ill receive a random text from someone but its funny because sometimes on the inside ill be screaming like “PLEASE SOMEONE TALK TO ME” and then it happens and its like nah.. i thought i sent out an amber alert but really I'm sending out a batman bat symbol. i thought i needed anyone to talk to, but in reality i just need one singular person to talk to. that was my mistake, will always be my mistake but at least i recognize it now...just a little late there big guy.

having so much time to myself probably too much time to myself is really interesting...if you've ever thought that you've done real reflection, submerge yourself in complete loneliness and isolation and try again because its so much deeper. you think about everything. every individual relationship, every right every wrong multiple perspectives. you think about all of your problems and the root to your problems. all of your mistakes why u caused these mistakes or what caused these mistakes. its actually really shitty because the bad will always stick out more than the good because the good is what is suppose to happen and the bad is the variable...variables get more attention than the constants i feel. deep down i don't think I'm a shitty human being.. even though i might think that a lot or hate myself...ik I'm only human and i can't be perfect and as much as id love for everyone to love me and me to not hurt anyone its more than likely unrealistic and it'll happen to me and already has happened to me and now i understand that and i will be more forgiving as i go on in life, the same forgiveness id want people to give me.

i use to think that everything had to work in reciprocality like for some reason i always thought everything should be equal all of the time..but i was extremely wrong, some people need more some people need less some people expect things and if they mean anything to you, the extra effort should hinder you or disrupt you...every human has a different way of looking at relationships and when those ways collide and don't add up it creates problem. I'm not saying people should give up in what they believe in but people should be less harsh about it... i know people who should be less harsh on me and i know people that i will be less harsh on and who i would be less harsh on if i could go back in time.

i tried to think about why I'm so afraid of butterflies and i can't really think of what happened along the way that got me here but i think the very root is the movie “butterfly effect” I'm also pretty sure they are remaking that movie into a 2018 version and ill probably go scare the fuck out of myself while seeing it.

my anxiety was gone until thinking about butterflies

i tried to explain a fear of butterflies to this kid named mike and i sounded like an absolute idiot and then his response was “does this scare you” and it was the close up of a butterfly from this spongebob episode and i can't get it out of my head.... i think the video is called “wormy close up”

fuck wormy

usually id think something so symmetrical was beautiful seeing has my old tendencies make me love symmetrically and i do things in that way like when i touch my feet to surfaces and shit bc i feel all neat and organized but i don't like that every butterfly ever is symmetrical as fuck...like show why what the hell. and i want to watch a video on it but i don't want to go into shock or some shit.

and they have wings that flap which is what i hate about bugs in general.

to be fair though i do like butterflies that have bright blue or white wings cus i use to see those a lot as a kid when my backyard was a golf course. but my vision of a butterfly with like brown wings and black borders gahhhh fuck that....id weather let a centipede crawl on me from head to toe than a butterfly land on me to put in in perspective.

idk man i think this post has done for me what i thought it would do what i intended it to do...i have to be up in like 3 and a half wish hours then run for an hour then ill take a solid nap for like 5 hours or just sleep pt.2 but i must be going... until next time or sunday.

i love you

fuck wormy

goodnight

#fuckwormy #waitttt

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