#would love to know the context behind glitter ceilings

[c0smicdusk]

Apparently there was a trend at some point where people would just put glitter on their ceilings? Idk why it went out i style tho, my closet has a glitter ceiling and i wish the rest of my room had it too

[verstappensrealwife]

Breaking the contract - Lewis Hamilton x Driver!Reader

fluff, smut.

approx. 1800 words.

warnings: sex, swearing, me not following any sort of time line.

a/n: I tried a new format with more "speech" but i low-key went back to my descriptive ways towards the end... whoops! ----- also i haven't proof read yet :P

lewis hamilton masterlist - here. f1 masterlist - here.

When you signed the contract to join MercedesAMG in 2019, you had also signed that you “would not partake in romantic relations within the team”. That was easy. All because they didn’t say you couldn’t have sexual relations people within the team.

It started in August of 2019, just after the hungarian grand prix there were, of course, big celebratory events to kick off summer break. 

You had held one yourself at your home in Monaco, inviting all the drivers, as well as some other people of course. 

The house, nestled on the cliffs of Monaco overlooking the azure Mediterranean, exuded an air of opulence and sophistication. Its sleek, modern design boasted floor-to-ceiling windows that offered panoramic views of the glittering coastline below. Inside, the décor was a blend of contemporary elegance and minimalist chic, with plush furnishings and tasteful artwork adorning the walls.

 As guests arrived, the sound of laughter and lively chatter filled the air, mingling with the gentle hum of music playing in the background. The atmosphere was electric, charged with the excitement of the recent race and anticipation for the upcoming summer break. Amidst the throng of glamorous guests, you moved with ease, playing the gracious host and ensuring everyone felt welcome in your luxurious abode.

“You know i deserved to win…” Lewis said behind you, you rolled your eyes and spun around. “… It’s true! I mean 0.012 seconds faster is stupid- I should have won.

“Are you not bored of your own voice sometimes?” You asked with a laugh. “Because I am.”

“I’m sure you could get used to it,” He smirked rather flirtily, “In a different context of course…” You looked around to see the rest of the grid, and anyone else who had showed up, to be having a good time, lots of laughs and well… free booze meant lots of chatter to cover up what lewis was whispering in your ear. “Look, love, I know you want something and it’s not gonna be the championship,”

“Oh Lewis, how you underestimate me!” You smile, “I know how to easily distract you from winning,” - he looked at you to carry on - “Well how about… every race you don’t win, you get to make me do anything you want! Tweet something, post something, anything.”

“Anythi-“

“That’s what I said…” You replied, cutting him off before smiling innocently and walking away. He followed eagerly.

“Well- Well- since i’ve not won 5 of the races this year so far do i get those prizes?” he asked, you shrugged and nodded. “And you truly mean ANYTHING I want from you…” - You nod once again- “Meet me upstairs?” 

You smirked and walked away… towards the stairs.

-

And it carried on to 2021 before stopping for a while since Lewis had found- in his words- “The one.”

“The one” also cheated on him in 2023 and left him for you to fix.

Yes despite fucking, you were good friends with him before that and continued to be outside of your agreement.

He came to you first, immediately after she had left. He banged on your wooden doors and as soon as you opened it, he was on you. Kissing you. Holding you. Grabbing you.

“This is to make up for the last 2 years we’ve missed.” He mumbled against your neck as he pushed you towards the nearest surface, kitchen counter. “God how I've missed you— th-this.”

Your top was somewhere near the door, your shorts not far behind, and now you stood legs apart, chest against the cold of the countertops as he fucked you to no end.

The intensity of the moment was overwhelming, fueled by months, years, of unspoken desires and suppressed emotions. As Lewis's hands roamed hungrily over your skin, every touch ignited a fiery passion that threatened to consume both of you. With each kiss and caress, the weight of the past two years melted away, replaced by a raw and primal need that pulsed between you. Lost in the whirlwind of sensation, you surrendered to the ecstasy of the moment, giving in to the magnetic pull of his touch. The kitchen counter provided a makeshift altar for your reunion, bearing witness to the fervent connection that transcended words. In that fleeting instant, nothing else mattered except the intoxicating dance of bodies and souls intertwined in a desperate embrace. As the echoes of pleasure reverberated through the room, it was clear that this was more than just a physical reunion—it was a soul-deep communion of two hearts seeking solace in each other's arms.

In the hazy aftermath of passion, as the echoes of your shared ecstasy lingered in the air, you found yourselves entwined in a tangle of limbs and whispered promises. With each ragged breath, the boundaries between past and present blurred, and for a fleeting moment, you existed in a timeless realm where only the intensity of your connection mattered. 

Lewis's gaze, dark and intense, bore into yours with a raw vulnerability that mirrored your own, laying bare the depths of longing and desire that had simmered beneath the surface for so long. 

“Well…” You say, “What happened at home?” You giggle at the obscurity of this situation. Now lay on the bed- no you don't remember when you moved from the kitchen to here.

He huffed a laugh back, “She was… not the one.”

-

Sitting in the sweltering Bahrain heat, beads of sweat glistening on your brow, you impatiently awaited the arrival of your helmet, a symbol of the impending battle on the track. The air crackled with anticipation, the thrum of engines and the bustle of the paddock serving as a backdrop to the fevered excitement building within you. Around you, your mechanics moved with precision and purpose, their expert hands ensuring every nut and bolt of your car was meticulously inspected and fine-tuned to perfection. With each passing moment, the tension mounted, a palpable energy that pulsed through the air like an electric current.

And then, as the sun beat down relentlessly, the moment arrived. With a flourish, your helmet was placed in your hands, a potent talisman imbued with the promise of victory. With a steady hand, you secured it in place, the familiar weight settling comfortably on your shoulders like a suit of armour. In that instant, you were no longer just a driver, but a warrior poised for battle, ready to conquer the asphalt and seize glory on the track.

And conquer you did. As the lights went out and the roar of engines filled the air, you surged forward with a fierce determination, every fibre of your being focused on one singular goal: victory. With each corner conquered and each straight conquered, your lead grew, stretching wider and wider with each passing lap. The competition faded into insignificance as you carved through the desert heat like a blazing comet, leaving your rivals in the dust and crossing the finish line with a commanding lead of almost twelve seconds.

As the chequered flag waved in triumph, a surge of adrenaline flooded your veins, mingling with the heady rush of victory and the anticipation of what awaited you beyond the confines of the track. Tonight, amidst the backdrop of celebration and jubilation, you knew that the real race would begin—a battle of passion and desire that would leave you breathless and exhilarated, lost in the fiery embrace of the one who fueled your most primal instincts. With a wolfish grin, you licked your lips in anticipation, the promise of the night ahead igniting a fire within you that burned hotter than the desert sun.

-

As the haze of sleep began to dissipate, Lewis's urgent voice pierced through the fog, pulling you from the depths of slumber into the harsh reality of the moment. With a groan, you rolled over, finding yourself nestled against his side, his presence a comforting anchor amidst the confusion of waking. His words tumbled out in a rush, laden with anxiety and apprehension, as he relayed the unsettling news that threatened to disrupt the fragile equilibrium of your clandestine affair.

Beneath the dim glow of the bedside lamp, you sat up, the cool air of the hotel room sending a shiver down your spine as you focused on the screen of Lewis's phone. The harsh light illuminated the evidence of your indiscretion, casting a harsh spotlight on the secret world you had carefully constructed away from prying eyes. Yet, despite the gravity of the situation, a sense of defiance stirred within you, a stubborn refusal to let fear dictate the course of your actions.

Lewis's words were rushed as he spoke of potential repercussions, his voice tinged with a vulnerability that belied his outward confidence. In that moment, your lips sought his in a tender kiss, a silent reassurance that spoke volumes of unspoken longing and shared intimacy. “Calm down, okay, we will be fine.” You said, trying to reassure the both of you

“But they’ll think we’re a couple and–”

“And that's so bad?” You asked, offended.

“What- wha no no no! God, no. You are… great. More than that you’re perfect and I’d be very willing to break my contract if it means to be with you…” He stopped talking, realising he had said all too much. The weight of Lewis's confession hung heavy in the air, his words a potent blend of vulnerability and longing that stirred something deep within you. In the stark silence that followed, the enormity of his revelation washed over you like a tidal wave, leaving you reeling in its wake.

For so long, you had danced on the razor's edge of desire, navigating the treacherous waters of secrecy and deceit with practised ease. Yet, in that moment of unguarded honesty, the facade crumbled, leaving you exposed and vulnerable to the tumultuous emotions swirling within.

With a trembling hand, you reached out to brush away the strands of hair that clung to Lewis's forehead, the touch of your fingertips a tentative gesture of reassurance amidst the uncertainty that threatened to consume you both. In his eyes, you saw a reflection of your own turmoil, a silent plea for understanding and acceptance that resonated deep within your soul.

"Let's keep this to ourselves," you whispered, the words a sacred vow of secrecy and devotion that echoed in the quiet space between you. Lewis nodded in fervent agreement.

In that moment, amidst the chaos of conflicting emotions and uncertain futures, you found solace in the knowledge that you were not alone—that together, you would face whatever trials lay ahead, hand in hand, bound by the unbreakable bond of love and shared understanding. And as you leaned into his embrace, the world faded away, leaving only the two of you entwined in a silent vow of devotion that transcended the boundaries of time and space.

--

GOD I AM BAD AT ENDINGS FUCK

anyways <3

[quilloftheclouds]

Colour Search Tag

Tagged by quite a few people, but I’m always up for finding words in my wip~

RULES: Find the given colours in your wip’s manuscript and post an excerpt for each! Then tag a few friends and give them three or four different colours for them to find.

@ardawyn​, @akindofmagictoo​, and @writeblrfantasy​ tagged me for this one!

I’m just gonna keep this one as an open tag, so feel free to play if you want! If you do, try and find Maroon, Rose, and Biege!

I was given Gold, Silver, Bronze, Red, Grey, White, Yellow, Orange, and Brown! I’ll be doing this with the first draft of OSS, because I don’t have enough done of TWW or the second draft of OSS yet to find these. ^^’

Gold

Another wave swept up and across me, only up to my chest, this time. The storm had subsided, the water only coming in gentle swells, now. The sirens had cleared off hours ago, their songs more screeches to me than the music of legend. I set my cheek down against the rough stone, tilting my head out to sea to catch the first rays of the sun. The light danced across the waves, shimmering and glittering, warming my face with a soft gold. Morning.

Silver

Despite the voices nearby, a quick glance through the room revealed no one present. Hesitantly, gently, I slipped my legs down to the side of the bed, my feet dangling a fair ways up from the wooden floorboards as I held the quilt up around my shoulders. My right ankle, where the silver cuff had been, was encircled with a band of pinker, newer flesh, a vivid scar against the rest of my darker skin. The area was tender and stiff when I rotated my foot, but otherwise lacked pain.

Bronze

“Is… is there a dog in here? Did you smuggle a dog on board?”

‘Yes, and no.’ I tilted my head, unamused. She made as if to write something else, but paused to reconsider. I looked on in curiosity as she stood, lifting a small, bronze plate from her desk to return with it. She hesitated, her movements stiff and apprehensive.

Sighing, she flipped up the plate to face me, its shiny surface like a mirror.

Red

I fell back onto the platform, the surrounding railing creating a wooden basin which presented some respite. The rest of the central mast rose ominously above me, the red ensign at the top flapping in the same gusts that buffeted the crow’s nest I rested in, the wood creaking and wobbling from the force. My chest rose and fell rapidly as I leaned my head back against the cold timbers to catch my breath.

Grey

“Do you… do you know her?” A sinister smile spread across Acharya’s face as she giggled, her mock cheerfulness returned.

“Mmm, you could say that!” She turned back to me with a wink, swirling her hand towards the boy. “Nikolaeva, meet your replacement. He’s a delight to work with, I really must say. Nothing like your stubborn ass.”

“Wait, you…” Sindre’s eyes were wide, flickering light grey in recognition. “You’re the one that stole off with The Scientist’s spell tome…”

White

The stormsurge hit us without mercy.

I gripped tight to the timbers behind me, managing to catch a ridge of the wood before the wave could wrench me off the rolling ship into the siren plagued waters. The sea blistered over my skin with cold, salt blazing white hot in the blood of my open wound, lashing at my face and arms and clawing at my hands to release the already weakened hold I had.

But I was still on the deck after the surge passed over, soaked and shivering.

But I was the only one still on the deck after the surge passed over.

Yellow

“The ship you came on--she’s docked in the hidden cove up the coast, isn’t she?” Violet’s hazel eyes may have well been vivid yellow in the lantern’s light. Phoenix remained silent, her face drained of emotion. Fear was left no quarters amidst the  darkness of a threat held in her gaze.

But she couldn’t fight here. The passage was far too narrow, the ceiling far too low.

My turn.

Orange

“There’s a small cove, over past the main bay. Hardly ever used and concealed well in the rock--it’ll serve us fine.”

Phoenix directed the helmsman’s attention to the empty hollow scooped into the land, about a mile down the coast from where the lights of the Fort blazed silently like orange stars over the black water. But the lighthouse had yet to be lit.

Brown

“... I work fer the Royal Navy as a high rankin’ First Mate. What want would I fer some reward?” Her tiny frame shuddered with her heavy breaths. She lowered her head, her dark brown curls slipping forward to hide her face.

“Because all humans are plagued with greed,” she paused, her voice softening to a whisper, as if she was ashamed to ask, “Why would you be any different?”

There’s some lovely juicy bits here... can you guess the context? c;

[zwiezraczek]

Look who's back 😜😜 6 with Billy please! They meet for the first time and Y/N's quite bitchy (sarcastic, quick comments etc). But Billy know it's an act and she's actually quite nice and shy 🐼

Princess [Blurb]

6. “I like the good things in life, darling.”

 Note: Aaaaah I missed you so much!!! 💕 I hope you're doing well, lovely! 💕 I hope you don't mind me taking Billy out the Ghosts context and making of him a "normal" parkour expert - he's parkouring with Storror: law - and I hope you'll enjoy it!!! 💕

~~~

New Year's Eve was your favorite time of the year, as you could put glitter all over your body and face and nobody would care, everybody would admire your pretty face shining in the middle of the room filled with strangers as you danced the night away, along with your partner in crime. You would never feast without her because she made you feel safe and you could be yourself around her. You didn't have to please, you could be your quirky self. And when she invited you to a party one of her friend's held in a club for New Year you agreed immediately. And when she told you it was an seventies themed party you lost it all. You were already looking for a sparkling dress on the internet.

And when the day had come, you couldn't resist to put some glitter on your eyelid and a red lipstick to match your delicate skin and your peachy glittery long dress. Your friend's mouth went agape when she saw you standing in front of her as you opened the door when she came to pick you up. She clapped her hands in excitement and you couldn't take your eyes off her beautiful black glittery flare pants, her booty would rock the whole world tonight.

The club you came into had an immense disco ball on the ceiling, reflecting the purple lights all across the room between dancing bodies – often holding a flute in hand as they chatted carelessly. From all the parties you went to, this one looked the best so far, and you absolutely loved it just from looking. The music caressed your ears as you recognized the bands which were blasting from the loud speakers, and before you could dragg both of you on the dancefloor to dance forever and ever she captured your hand to bring you to a quieter place where – probably – her friend waited for both of you.

“Blaine,” your friend exclaimed joyfully as a black man turned himself to face her and immediately on his face appeared a smile.

“Lovely, you're here,” he replied before she jumped into his arms like a kid and you couldn't help yourself but smile. “I'm so glad you came, I was afraid you wouldn't!”

“Missing Blaine's party would be a sin and I know that! And I brought a friend,” she added excited before turning and stretching her arm towards you. “Y/n, come come! You need to meet Blaine!” And with a smile, a confident smile hiding your shyness, you came towards them. “Blaine, this is y/n, my bestfriend! And y/n, this is Blaine!”

“Your future boyfriend,” he precised and she just rolled her eyes. “Nice to meet you, y/n. I hope you'll have a great time here!”

“I don't doubt that my bestfriend's boyfriend organized a great party in here,” you teased and she hit your forearm as you giggled. “We'll discuss about hiding boyfriends later, you little snake!”

“I'm not a snake,” she protested, pouting and Blaine put his index on her cheek.

“Yes, you're absolutely not a snake,” you corrected with a smirk. “I'm going to make myself at home then, leaving the bird with the snake,” you stated and went away before your bestfriend's hand could reach your skin again.

And as you made your way through the dancing crowd, you looked back at your bestfriend being kissed on the cheek by Blaine: what a little snake she was! You were happy, but sad. You hoped that this year would be like the others, you spending your night with her, in a club or in a bar dancing together and laughing about the past year and hoping for a better new. Not tonight, your karma said. What a bitch, you replied before taking a shot while you sat at the bar.

You proceeded to take a few drinks, your fingertips circling on the edge of the glass as you looked for your bestfriend from time to time, right behind you. You finally decided to go and sit in a calmer corner, and began to scroll on your Instagram feed during a few minutes, sighing from time to time. Maybe not the best New Year's Eve party finally, maybe not...

“Darling, can I join you,” you heard a voice above your head and you saw a Latina girl with eyes as beautiful as stars in the moonlight wearing a silk night blue dress.

“Of course,” you babbled and put your phone away as you looked at her and she waved into a man's direction with a wide smile.

“I'm Amelia,” she presented herself as she sat right next to you.

“I'm y/n,” you replied with a faint smile.

“And this is Billy,” she said as a blond man came right after her with two drinks in hands before looking at you. Your eyes locked and you could swear that you saw a faint glow in his eyes. Under the club's light his eyes looked like pearls and you couldn't take yours from his. This moment could have lasted forever, or just a few micro-seconds. “He's a bit stupid, but I love him anyway,” she added with a quick movement of her hand before looking at him with a smile. “I love you Billy.”

“You always love me when you're drunk,” he teased before handing Amelia her drink.

“Can't a woman love her bestie just like that, what do you thing y/n,” she asked before dunking her lips into the alcohol.

“I think she absolutely can,” you replied siding with her as Billy just sighed. You crossed your legs and leaned forward a bit.

“You're not helping, beauty,” he said before attempting to catch his glass but you were quicker than him and you had your hand already on the glass. He looked at you, and with a smile you drank from his glass. Fruity. Delicate. Nice taste.

“Billy, I love her more than I love you now,” Amelia stated as she began to laugh when she saw Billy's expression when you drank from his glass. She put her hands around your neck, hugging you joyfully. With the corner of your eye, you looked at Billy and tried to guess him emotions. Anger? Pity? Was he impressed or vexed?

“Good for you, Amelia,” he snapped dryly. He was vexed, definitely.

“I'm so so sorry for drinking from your glass,” you cooed as Amelia let you go, with your eyelashes fluttering and making your eyelids shine even more than they did. “Poor little boo, do you want me to offer you a drink?”

“Unlike you, I can pay myself something without stealing.” He wanted to play, and you had nothing to lose.

“Who said I couldn't pay myself something, playboy,” you asked innocently and Amelia just rose her shoulders.

“You stealing my drink apparently.”

“I like the good things in life, darling,” you replied with a little smirk.

“This was all fun and games Billy,” Amelia intervened with a drunkish smile and Billy sighed even more. “Look at this angelic glittery face, y/n's an angel,” she stated with a little sparkle in her eye before she heard a song and began to clap. “An angel that will dance with me right now because I love this song!” She got up and grabbed you by your hand, leaving Billy and his empty glasses in the corner.

~~~

It became a little bit too hot inside for you, so you insisted to go on the terrace by yourself, leaving Amelia and your partner in crime inside. You had to think about... Things. And alcohol and the noise and the heat wouldn't help you. You didn't want to come in, but you began to feel the chills on your skin.

Here, you could calm down for a moment, not be the social butterfly you were in order to hide your shyness and everything that surrounded it. You developed this capacity to cope with loneliness, and it drained your energy away every single time but it gave you the opportunity to meet amazing people too. So it seemed to be worth it.

Suddenly, you felt a jacket on your shoulders. You immediately rose your head to see who tried to save you from a cold, and you saw Billy. The guy you teased during the whole evening. You couldn't put a finger on what you wanted from him, what your inner slut wanted and what your inner timid girl wanted, but all both of them knew was that he was just an adorable target to annoy because of the pouty face he made everytime you said something.But now, without any audience, your sharp tongue was gone.

“You're hiding here then,” he said before sitting next to you. “I was wondering where the thief went, and I found you here.” You looked at him and shyly smiled before sighing.

“Thanks for the jacket, I was freezing out here.” You felt his gaze on you, and your lips suddenly went dry.

“Don't steal my jacket,” he teased you this time and you rolled your eyes.

“I won't I promise,” you whispered. “So, Billy, what you're doing in general? Besides letting strangers steal your drinks and jacket.”

“I do parkour, I'm part of a team right now, we're not doing anything big but well... It's still fun and stuff.”

“That's so cool,” you said dreamily, and he looked right in your eyes. Oh shit, your inner slut stopped breathing.

“And what do you do,” his raspy voice caught you off guard. Dear lords. You lost it all.

“I'm an art teacher,” you babbled, you began to drown in his eyes. It was suddenly so hot outside.

“The only art I see here is you,” he replied as he caressed your cheek gently.

You couldn't quite figure how you found yourself pulling him closer but the collar of his white shirt to kiss you. Your lips burning red dancing with his, you could feel the warmth of his breath against your skin and slowly his lips against your neck as you closed your eyes with your fingers wandering in his blond locks. You gasped and he whispered into your ear.

“I also like the good things in life, darling.”

[your-daily-dose-of-fandoms]

Muichiro x reader who’s a kakushi (one of the masked people who help out) maybe they’d leave little notes out for our misty boi with weird fun facts about anything and everything since he tends to drift what he’s thinking about a lot, and he gets curious and tries to figure out which Kakushi it is and befriend them

Oh god i love this request!! Saying that i got a little excited would be an understanding xd I hope you like it!

Muichiro x Kakushi! Reader

🌫 One day, after a bunch of Kakushis had come to clean the Mist pillar's estate, Muichiro found a neatly folded note on his pillow

🌫 With a pretty cursive handwriting there read: "Remember to give yourself enough time to rest after a long day of training. Also fun fact of the day: Japan consists of exactly 6852 islands"

🌫 Muichiro would raise his eyebrow in confusion, but take the advice the mysterious note gave, and rest

🌫 He would forget it the instant his head would touch the pillow and live on his life as normal

🌫 However, the next time when Kakushis came over to bring back some wounded demon slayers, Muichiro found a neatly folded note resting on his pillow again

🌫 The content was the same as before, reminder and a fact, and Muichiro would feel confused

🌫 That night, he wouldn't sleep well, as eerie feeling of uneasiness would keep him awake. He'd just feel like he hadn't connected all the dots

🌫 The next morning, the note incident would however be forgotten, and Muichiro would fall asleep more than normal during the daily basis

🌫 The third time when the kakushis would come over, and he'd find yet another neatly folded note on his pillow, he'd become determined to find out who this person is

🌫 He'd keep the note in his pocket, to make sure that he wouldn't forget about it

🌫 He could guess, that this mysterious person was probably a kakushi, due to the fact that the notes appeared always after they came over

🌫 He'd ask kakushis come over more often now, trying to find out the note sender

🌫 Somehow the person was always able to slip a note on his pillow without getting caught, even if Muichiro would stay in his room for the whole time the Kakushis were there

🌫 He'd start seeing dreams of the mysterious person, even in his dreams he couldn't escape them

🌫 Would become more and more absent, so that people around him would notice it too

🌫 The note sender would become the only thing he couldn't forget, even though he wanted to. He'd be so puzzled, he'd want to know who this person is so he could ask them why they were doing this, and maybe befriend them

🌫 One day, he would wake up with a note on his night table, telling him to meet them next day in the garden at the time of sunset

🌫 Poor boy wouldn't be able to sleep, as everytime he'd close his eyes, he'd just see you

🌫 Would practically be jumping up and down the day you two were supposed to meet

🌫 Would probably be in the garden a hour or so earlier

🌫 Knowing him, he would try to take a nap in the garden but he's just so excited to finally meet you an-

🌫 Oops he's already asleep

🌫 As you'd walk into the garden and see the mist pillar napping, you would giggle, walk up to them and gently wake them up

🌫 He would look confused, but then his eyes would focus on yours as you would take of your Kakushi mask and smile at him

🌫 "I.. I knew you were Kakushi!" He would say, and would proceed to ask why you did what you did

🌫 You two would probably talk for the rest of the night, and he would take liking of you

🌫 From that night on, everytime he would ask Kakushis to come over, he would have a cup of tea with you

~~~Drabble Timee~~~

"But ma'am! Please, just this once!" You desperately pleaded your boss on your knees.

"(Y/N) I know you've been disturbing the Mist Pillar for a while now! This is enough, you must show respect to them!!" She yelled, crumbling and throwing out yet another note you had written for the next time you would visit his estate. You were on the edge of crying, he didn't think like that, did he? Were you really just disturbing him? Were you really just a bother?

"But ma'am, I do respect him! I swear I'm going to let it go, if I only can do this, this once!" You insisted. You needed to meet the Mist Pillar, you needed to tell him the reason behind the notes. Maybe you wouldn't end up confessing, but if you two befriended, there would come time for that later..

Your boss fumed on her place, arms crossing across her chest, as she looked down on your kneeling form.

"(Y/N), look at me", She told you, as you hesitantly raised your head to look at her.

"No more visits to his estate. I know you love him, but he hasn't noticed you in all these years you have done your duties there. Give up. There are plenty of men in Japan, some willing to marry you, you shouldn't ruin your whole life by falling in love with someone who's never going to notice you", Your boss told you, as she helped you up. Your heart sulk at her words, as you solemnly nodded, wanting to just disappear. Your boss nodded, satisfied by your sulked form, as she then proceeded to pat you on the back.

"Now go to sleep, the sun is setting and you need a good rest", She told you, as you nodded again, slowly starting to make your way to your room, your legs feeling as heavy as the burden on your heart.

As you made it to your room, you fell on the bed, gazing at the white ceiling above you and sighed. Maybe you really should give up on your hopeless love.

Suddenly, there was a knock on the window.

You were confused, as you slowly rose up from your bed, fixing up your hair and walking up to the window. Behind the window you could see the warm colors of the sunset, meddling into each other, becoming one. Your stare focused on the black crow behind the window, with a piece of crumbled up paper in his beak. Your raised your eyebrows and opened the window, letting the crow in.

The black creature flew around your room for a while, searching for a good place to rest, as it decided to land on your night table. For a while, it streched its legs and wings, as if showing off its beautiful feathers, as it then proceeded to drop the paper from its beak and croak.

You slowly walked up to the bird, carefully reaching for the paper, and grabbing it. The surface of the material felt familiar in your hands, as you opened up the paper and read the context. You gasped as you noticed what it was.

It was the same note your boss had crumbled up and thrown away just few moments ago!

You looked up to the crown, as if to thank it, but to your confusion, you didn't see it on your night table anymore.

You weren't sure if your mind was playing tricks on you, but the paper you held in your hands, must be a sign. Sign not to give up. Sign to go meet him!!

You looked up to the sky, the sunset was still there, as you looked at the opened window. With determination you nodded to yourself, as you broke into a sprint and jumped out of the window. You didn't care if you got caught. You just needed to see him for the last time.

As you made it to the garden, it was already almost dark, some early stars visible on the sky. You were panting and looked around for the Mist Pillar with panicking eyes. You were afraid that you were late, you were afraid that you had missed your only chance.

Your heart however missed a beat as you saw the boy sleeping on a wooden bench, taking a nap.

You chuckled and made your way towards him, gently shaking him up from his slumber. His eyes were confused, trying to remember where he was, but then his eyes locked with yours. You could feel you heart stop beating, as his pretty eyes gazed deep into your soul, as if he could read you like an open book.

"I.. I knew you were Kakushi!" He exclaimed and you were taken back from his enthusiasm. You slowly nodded and took off your mask, looking at the spot next to him, as if asking if you could sit there. The boy in front of you nodded, and you sat next to him, gazing up at the sky that was now dark with stars glittering over it like white paint on a black canvas. Muichiro did the same as you, as he let out a sigh.

"So now.. Care to tell me why you've been leaving me those notes?" He asked, gazing up at the stars, his voice calm and absent. Even sitting next to him, made respect instinctively arise in you.

"I.. I just wanted to befriend you, I guess", You told shyly, playing with the hem of your kakushi suit. You couldn't confess to him just yet, not when he barely even knew you. You would have to wait. But now, you were just afraid of hearing his answer.

"Good, because now i want it too"

[breakingsomething]

naomi

summary: marvin does have a life outside of his brothers. a lot of it is just crime and friendships for convenience, but naomi is different.

marvin is not a nervous man.

he's not, really. usually he's very confident in himself, sometimes going as far to be cocky and slightly pompous. that's something he's aware of. but now, standing in front of the doors to the florists, he can feel his heart pounding and his breath getting slightly quicker, and he laughs in spite of himself. why is he nervous? he's not doing anything he hasn't done before.

the old fashioned bell above the door rings as he pushes it open. "hello?" he calls in a sing song voice, letting the noises of the world outside silence with a click of the door as it closes. it's quiet in here. the early evening light casts all the plants in shadow, turning everything a pretty orange colour. his boots thump against the floor. "naomi?" 

"looking for me?" comes a voice from behind him. he yelps, before quickly regaining his composure, just a second too late. naomi is standing behind a shelf of flowers, peeking over the top at marvin with a huge grin on her face. her short, cinnamon coloured hair practically glows in this light, and marvin blinks to make sure he's not imagining her dark brown eyes glowing. maybe they are, he wouldn't question it. she laughs at his surprise, casually walking round the many flowerpots to face marvin fully. "finally got you, fucker. you can't always be on your guard, can you?"

"fuck, naomi, give me warning! i give you warning with your goddamn bell!" marvin glowers. naomi sticks her tongue out and flips him off before marching purposely to the other side of the store.

"ok, i got something cool to show you. two cool things, actually." she stops at a door and twirls in place, whistling. "flip the sign round to closed please, pye? i don't want anyone walking in on this."

out of context, that would sound bad, but marvin knows what she means. without looking, he waves his hand and the homemade sign on the door floats into the air before landing on its other side. he cheers loudly for himself like he's achieved something amazing, trying to relieve some of the awkwardness he's sure he's imagining. "well done, show off," naomi scoffs with a smile. "come on, i don't have all day."

they go into the back room, a small white room that's more window than wall, full of plants hanging from pots on the ceiling and draping off shelves. naomi sets up closing all the curtains while marvin throws himself down on a green plastic chair, opening and closing his hands nervously.

he's been here many times before, of course- he practically lives here, especially on saturdays. that's when jackie's out pretty much the full day, and naomi's in shop from nine til five, and marvin fucking loves being here. it's always so warm and cozy, and the atmosphere is so nice, and maybe he's a little in love with naomi… maybe he likes having a friend other than jackie. a friend that he didn't make from circumstance. a friend that gets him better than most other people in the world could. maybe he's in love with the idea of having friends. maybe he's in love with naomi. he doesn't know what he's feeling. 

what he does know is that earlier today, naomi sent him a message asking him to come to her store specially after closing time, and marvin is nervous. he wishes she would hurry up and just tell him what she wants already. he doesn't like suspense.

it's very warm in here. naomi's closed all the windows and is now sitting on the red chair in front of marvin, leaning her elbow on her desk, upon which there is a huge tarp covering what looks like a cage. "you wanna see?" she asks excitedly, stars in her eyes. straight to the point, as always. 

"see... what? do i wanna know?"

"close your eyes," she says, and marvin does so with an awkward laugh. "naomi, what-"

there's a sound of a large piece of material being ripped off and tossed to the side, and marvin peeks slightly to see…

a gigantic plant. a tree that marvin doesn't remember the name of, but it's beautiful, with curved branches and perky clouds of leaves. he admire it, standing from his chair to see it properly. "holy shit, that's a big plant." he says.

"that's not all!" naomi stands onto her chair, dangerously close to falling off, and curls her hands around the outside of the plant's cage, never touching it. she moves her arms, slowly, gently, twisting them round as magic flows from her fingertips, glowing green and yellow trails of glittering spells landing on the leaves that poke out from the bars. as she does so, the plant changes. golden liquid drips from all the cracks in the bark and indentations in the leaves, pouring from seemingly nowhere and falling to the floor. "catch the drips, pye, don't just gape!" she instructs, not taking her eyes off the tree. marvin raises his hands and lets several empty jars from the side of the desk float upwards, the liquid drizzling inside. 

"man," he murmurs. "what kind of fucking plant is this and where the hell did you get it? what's the gold stuff?" he inspects the jar closest to his face. "it looks like honey."

"here's the thing," naomi says, and lowers her hands to step down to the floor. the liquid stops flowing, leaving golden streaks on the tree that sink back into the bark. marvin watches, fascinated.

naomi sits back down on her chair and faces marvin, a serious look on her face. "here's the thing," she repeats. "this is not a legal plant."

marvin nods, unsurprised. he'd expect nothing more of naomi.

"but," she says excitedly, suddenly pulling her chair right up to marvin's, her legs pressing against his. her cargo pants are stained with dirt and sap. his face suddenly feels very warm. "this isn't any usual illegal plant. i, naomi gudmundson, bred this plant myself."

she widens her eyes, waiting for marvin's amazement. but he won't give it to her that easily. he leans back in his chair, pretending to be unimpressed. "so what does it do?"

naomi bites her lip, lip gloss smearing on her teeth. "ok, so, you might be mad at me for this." she hesitates. "so, i had a few plants brought it from a few different places- scotland, africa, one of them's from fucking greenland- and. well. you've seen my breeding skills."

once again, bad out of context. but marvin just nods, curious. "come on, get to the point where i'm mad at you."

naomi glances away. "so you saw the sap the plant released. i had these plants imported specially, disguised as orders for my shop, although i had to get a few other plants so as to avoid suspicion, which cost a lot, by the way. and i- when i broke the branch, this sap came out, and i tested it on myself, and nothing much happened. so i thought, oh, it must only work on others, meaning it does do something for the caster. and this plant is especially magical because certain types of agrokinesis are more compatible with magics from other countries or climates, and the combination…"

marvin smiles softly. even if he doesn't know a lot of what she's saying, he loves listening to her ramble about these kinds of things. sometimes he wishes he were a plant magician too, just so he could understand her better. it'd also certainly be more useful than his fire. maybe not as visually effective, but certainly something.

"...so yeah, it's a love potion, essentially."

marvin snaps back to reality, sitting bolt upright. "what?"

"it's not a love potion like in the movies," naomi says, waving her hands around her face. she picks up one of the jars from where they've landed on the table and holds it close to her head, her fringe falling slightly in front of her eyes. "it's move of a- a blind loyalty spell, a mind fuck. it seems to form some sort of bond between the drinker and the spell caster."

marvin can hardly believe what he's hearing. "naomi, that's black magic type shit right there!"

she sighs and shakes her head, bumping marvin's knees as she stands and walks over to the window, peeking out of the blinds. "it's not even the worst thing i've accidentally made. once i-"

marvin stood too, nearly tripping over the chair leg. "accidentally my ass, there's no way you accidentally brought that level of magic into existence!"

naomi turned to him, grinning. "you have to admit, it's cool though."

and despite himself, he also smiled. "ok, it's cool. but also fucked. you're not gonna keep it, are you?"

"no, no. and i can't just dump it on the streets either, who knows what could happen to it. no, i have an idea of what to do with it, which brings us onto cool thing nummer två. come on, come on!"

she suddenly dashes from the room, only pausing to throw the sheet of material back over the tree, leaving marvin to gape at the glowing golden jars of the sap. he can't believe naomi is really powerful enough and has enough black magic potential in her to be able to bring to life a plant like this. and honestly… part of him is jealous. he's never been able to accomplish spells that manipulate the mind in any way- not that he wants to, of course- much less a hybrid-plant-sap-potion thing. this stuff could be so incredibly dangerous in the wrong hands. this stuff could ruin civilizations if necessary. yet here he is, gently cradling one small orange vial of it.

"marv! come here, i have a thing to show you!"

marvin hurries out back into the main part of the store, blinking in the sudden light. naomi's sitting on the front counter, an envelope in her hands. "come sit here." she invites him, patting the space next to her.

marvin raises an eyebrow and grins. "why, flower, we've only known each other for six months or so, this is awfully forward of you-"

"get up on the counter, dipshit, or i will smack you round the head." naomi glares at him as he laughs and jumps up beside her. he glances out the window at the people bustling in the orange light, swinging his legs while naomi unfolds a piece of paper. the perfect silence makes marvin feel warm and light, and he leans back on his arms precariously.

"your hair looks nice," naomi comments casually, and marvin nearly falls over.

"re- oh! thank you," he says, hiding a smile. he didn't think anyone would even notice the change.

"are you growing it out long then?" she asks. marvin notices how she's tilting the paper away from his field of vision.

"yeah, i suppose. it's about the same length as yours now." he pushes himself up fully, craning his neck. 

she nudges him lightly. "bob bros for life, man. now stop trying to look at the paper, i'm doing- ok, done. have a look."

marvin takes it from her hand and reads it.

dear miss gudmundson, reads the letter.

we are joyful to announce that we were able to accept your request to officially join hecate's international golf club! we have reviewed your application and believe you possess the qualities we look for in our esteemed organization. we look forward to seeing you at the course nearest to you on our next meeting!

sincerely, hecate, head of staff.

marvin turns to naomi, who is positively beaming.

"um… congratulations!" he says, trying not to sound as confused as he feels. "that's, uh, that's really cool!"

naomi bursts into peals of laughter, making marvin jump in surprise. "what?" he says, which only makes her laugh more.

"lift it up to the light," she whispers, and gently takes his hands and raises them upwards towards the ceiling. marvin's heart pounds at how close she is. he can feel the ends of her hair tickling his cheek, but he doesn't dare move in case she lets go.

"look now!" she says, and as she says it, light falls through the rooftop window and hits the paper, making it positively glow. instantly the words on the paper change, and marvin gasps in delight; the words are not just changing, they're shifting around on the pagez melting into each other and reorganizing themselves. when they've eventually got themselves where they're supposed to be, marvin reads again.

dear miss gunmundson,

we are joyful to announce that we were able to accept your request to officially join hecate's international network of magic! we have reviewed your application and believe you possess the qualities we look for in our esteemed organization. we look forward to seeing you at the course and safe place nearest to you on our next meeting!

sincerely, hecate, head of staff.

marvin lowers his arms and stares at naomi.

"what the fuck?"

"it's a magic organization!" she squeals. she claps her hands rapidly, bouncing in place. "i got the letter after placing the orders for the blind loyalty bonsai tree recently, i suppose the sender must have realized how many magical related items i was ordering, and how they all correlate- marvin, how cool is this? they can take my tree too, and i won't get fined!"

"wait, wait," he says, twisting to face naomi. "why couldn't i read it straight away?"

naomi shrugs innocently, folding up the paper and carefully putting it back into its envelope. "i mean, a simple light trick to mess you up. for suspense, you know." she tosses the letter aside and turns to marvin, her eyes boring into his own. "apparently you can only read the letter if you have magic in your blood and are able to perform some of your own. that means that only magic users can get to it, not just any old person with magic blood in their veins. it's super enchanted. how cool!"

she slides off the table and spins round the room, nearly knocking over several plants. marvin laughs from the counter. "it's certainly interesting," he says. "can you stay still for two minutes?"

naomi teeters and grabs marvin's legs for support. "not when i'm this excited!" she laughs breathlessly. "we can learn more advanced magics, pye, in a place where we won't have to hide it, and- you'll come, right?" she looks up at marvin with pleading eyes.

marvin makes a noise of disbelief. "well, you're- you're sure this is legit? it seems like some kind of scam. why do they call themselves a golf club? and how international are they? are there magicians all round the world? how did-"

"relax, marvin," naomi says, before pushing off his legs and spinning again, warm green and yellow sparks flying off her and sprouting into buds on the floor. marvin almost wants to join her, but he knows his rather unpredictable fire magic won't mix well with the store. there's a reason naomi calls him 'pyro', after all. instead, he stands and glances at his phone. almost seven.

"i should go," he sighs dejectedly. naomi stands still and makes a face.

"ok, well, the next meeting is on sunday. which is in three days." she pulls a pen from her shirt pocket and grabs marvin's hand despite his noise of protest, writing SUNDAY in big block letters on his palm. "meet me here, and we'll go check it out?" 

and again she's looking at him with her glowing oak eyes, and marvin is powerless to say no. "you sure you didn't slip me some of that sap?" he says with a weak smile.

she snorts and pushes him towards the door. "haha, definitely. now go home to your brother before it gets too dark. do you want me to walk with you?"

"nah, nah," he waves her off, pushing the door open and feeling the gust of cold wind on his face. he struggles to pull his hood up before turning back to the comfort and warmth of the shop, and to naomi's softly smiling face, her hair fluttering. "see you friday?" he asks.

"as usual." and just before he leaves, she gently brushes against his hand, sending a shooting warmth through his body. though whether that was her magic or just her was unknown. the door closed behind him with a soft jingle, and the roar of the world consumes him again.

this wasn't stealing. well, technically it was, but she was going to give the plant away to some magical organization anway, right? it wasn't like there was a shortage or anything. still, the orange vial burned against his fingertips in his jacket pocket despite how cold it was, and he shuddered. this felt bad, and wrong.

naomi wouldn't mind. one vial of magic wouldn't hurt, anyway.

he shivered the whole way home.

[druidx]

Broken Promises (Pt6)

Context: Modryn Oryen (or 'Fighter's Guild dad', as I think of him) needs more love. For more context, see my whine about this fic.

Warnings: Torture, slavery mentions, grief, self-hate, moderate swearing (cannon curses; no f-bombs), disassociation, general fantasy violence, magical bindings

Notes: I took extreme liberties with the way Morrowind slave bracers work. Please don’t yell at me.

(Gods this got huge; I’ll make a masterpost for all parts when they're up)

The light had gone from the outside world by the time they'd finished with Modryn. He'd been right the first time, I thought. Without my pleas and desperate begging, the Breton woman had tired of him quicker than she'd tired of me. It didn't buy me a reprieve though. Elandril and Fa'nir dragged Modryn back into the cell, dumping him in a heap and reattaching his manacles. Then Fa'nir had backed out, and the Breton had entered. I thought about fighting, but that idea was quashed when the Bosmer put a dagger to Modryn't throat. The implication was clear, and I limped out, led by the neck like a dog. Elandril didn't move all the while I was winched up. Only when I was secured again did the Bosmer retreat. The Breton paced around me, tapping her dagger on her chin. "You know," she said eventually, "I've been thinking. If you're so determined to stay quiet, why don't we make a little game of it? Let's see just how quiet you can stay. For every noise you make, I'll take it out of Oreyn's hide tomorrow. Understand?" She used the blade to lift my chin, icy blue eyes staring into mine, blazing with hate. "Hrm?" I nodded, such as I could. She gave me a winning smile. "Ah, you've got the hang of it already. Good, good." She flipped the dagger onto its edge and drew the blade along the underside of my chin. I closed my eyes, fighting down the whimper trying to escape. Then she began in earnest.

~*~*~

They'd left me hanging for the night again, nauseated from Fa'nir's ministrations, disoriented and dehydrated from blood loss. The cave was dark, only the faintest starlight reached us from the holes in the ceiling. Is it any wonder then, that when cold reptilian hands brushed mine, I jerked into full consciousness? The startled cry on my lips was stifled by that same scaled hand. "Greetings, fellow thief," whispered a droll Argonian voice from behind me. "I trust you realise it would be well to stay silent?" I nodded into the hand. "Good," the voice said, and the hand withdrew. Something about that voice was familiar. It wasn't until the manacles dropped from my wrists with the tiniest of clinks, that I understood. "Amusei?" I whispered. "One and the same," the Argonian said. I felt his hands on the back of my neck, investigating the collar. "This one will be trickier..." He padded away from me, towards the cell where Modryn lay, sleeping. Yes, sleeping – I wouldn't countenance anything else. Another figure moved in the dark, beside the cell door, and Amusei whispered to it. Other shadows twitched to life in my periphery, and I twisted to see someone stood there, his long curved sword glittering in the faint light. Only a few people I knew carried swords like that – the Dunbarrow crew. I nearly cried out in relief. Plans E and F had arrived together. I didn't think to question what had happened to Plan D. I hissed out between my teeth. Amusei and the second shadow paused in their whispering, said something more, then the second shadow broke away, coming towards me. It resolved into the form of a young Bosmer woman. She silently raised a questioning eyebrow. "Methredhel," I greeted her. "Take the Dunmer and get out." She shook her head. "My instructions are for both of you." I bit back a scream of frustration. "Amusei says the collar is too difficult. Take the Dunmer, and come back for me. Please, 'Redhel." She was silent for what felt like too many heartbeats, her face inscrutable in the dark. Then she gave a quick nod, and padded back to the cell, waving over the pirate, Zedrick, I thought. Another shadow, presumably Scurvy John, followed suit. They had a short conflab inside the cell before Methredhel trotted back out. She leaned in close enough that I could smell the leather of her armour and the lavender soap with which she bathed. "Alright, here's the plan," she whispered into my ear. "The disreputable gentlemen will take your Dunmer to a prearranged point, while you and I wait for the distraction. Then we'll see about the collar. Can you run if needed?" "Probably not. Got any potions?" Methredhel nodded against my face. "Your mage friends are very useful," she said. Before I could ask what she meant, the Bosmer was pulling away and I could only wonder at her words. How did she know about my ties with the Mages Guild, and what did she mean by 'the distraction'? Then she was pressing a vial into hands that shook so fiercely she had to uncork the bottle for me and help me drink. A flush of sweet, iron-flavoured magic washed through me, though I gagged at the sensation of bones growing and muscle reknitting. Methredhel swiftly put her hand over my mouth to stop the noises, and to stop the potion from coming back up. "Better?" she asked as my tremors stopped. "Aye. For now." She gave me another quick nod and stepped around to look at the collar's lock. As she did so, I watched figures emerge from the cell. The pirates carried Modryn between them in a queen's lift while Amusei raised a hand, signalling that their part was going well, and they would continue. The four soon disappeared around a corner of the cave. Yet another shadow, clad in leathers as purple as the night, detached from the wall to follow them, and I realised with a start that the Dark Brotherhood were here as well. Plan D was involved with E and F? What the hell was going on... Things only got more confusing from thereon. After what could have only been a few minutes, but felt like hours in the watchful dark, I heard a commotion coming from the left – the opposite direction that the pirates had taken Modryn. Methredhel was quick to take action as soon as we heard it, loosening the collar and allowing the chink of the long chain to be hidden by the sounds of combat. "'Redhel, what's going on?" I asked as she took my hand. "I'll explain later. For now, we run." So saying she took off, pulling on my hand. I was not nearly as fast as either of us would've liked. I hobbled and limped along behind her, seeing sparks each time I put a foot down, willing the adrenalin to hide my pains.

By the time we caught up with Modryn's escort, my vision was wavering, and I felt flushed and freezing at once. Stabbing pains radiated from where the slave band bit in around my arm. "Amusei, Yinz'r," Methredhel hissed. The two Argonians took one look at me, and in tandem scooped me up. If I'd had the strength, I probably would have protested. Once I was in arms, our group took off, while the sounds of battle still raged elsewhere.

We'd nearly made it to the last chamber when the pain in my arm became unbearable. The two Argonians took one step too far. My entire body spasmed, my arm feeling like someone had plunged it in lava. I clawed at the band, screaming. Someone slammed a hand over my mouth as the Argonians retreated along the corridor, dumping me on the floor. "What do we do?" I heard Scurvy John ask. I shook off the hand, trying to catch my breath. "Get the Dunmer out of here," I growled. "But-" "Do it!" There was a pause. Then, "Yes Captain," he said, and I heard them walk away. Methredhel crouched down beside me. "What's wrong with you?" she asked. "It's this band," said the assassin crouched on my other side, as she lifted my arm. "I saw one in Pelgaliad last month. It's used to keep slaves from escaping. If they get far enough from the key, then..." She gestured at me. "It's just another lock, right? I'll just-" Methredhel was interrupted by the assassin catching her hand. "You cannot pick an enchanted lock," she said. "We have to find the key, or our dear Listener will never be able to leave." "That gods damned Breton woman probably has it," I said, scrabbling at the walls. "Help me up." The rush of anger filled my veins like fire, giving me strength I would pay dearly for later. "Listener, are you sure-" "Yes! 'Redhel, what other potions do you have?" The Bosmer started a little and flipped a belt pouch open, fishing out a handful of vials. "Ah. I used the Detect Life and the Nighteye... There's another two Healing, a Shield, an Invisibility, a Fortify Fatigue..." She looked back at me, as I leant heavily on the assassin's arm. "Give me the Fortify Fatigue," I said. She looked worried as she handed over the potion. I gripped it tightly – I'd save it for when it was desperately needed. "Now get out of here, both of you." The thief and the assassin shared a look. "Respectfully, Listener, no," said the assassin. "I don't know about our thief here, but my orders are to bring you out alive. In the state you are, you will die, be it from a blade or blood loss." Methredhel nodded. "Aye, mine are close enough to that. Sorry, Guildmate, but we're coming with you." I looked between the two of them. The assassin was resolute, just enough jut of the chin, thought her eyes were anxious. Methredhel just looked annoyed with me, as she so often had when I was new to the guild and clumsy with it. "Fine," I grumbled. "I need a blade." Smiles lit up both women's faces, and a pair of fine steel daggers appeared in their hands. I tucked the potion vial in my bandeau and took both. "Stay stealthy," I told them. "The bitch is likely to be wherever the fighting's thickest. Who are they fighting, anyway?" "Some fellows from the Fighter's Guild and a private force from up the road," Methredhel said. I frowned, forcing the thought to the back of my mind. There was too much going on to get distracted by that coincidence. The three of us padded back down the corridor with Methredhel in the lead. With every step we took towards the fighting, the better I felt, as though the enchantment wore off the closer I got to the key.

[minimus-ambus]

lie heavy, remember your love

(Context: Minimus and Megatron were in a relationship prior to DOTL, and after Megatron was left behind in the Functionist Universe, he realizes that he’s sparked. Weeks later, Megatron dreams of Minimus by his side...)

His sparkchamber lay heavy in his chest. His breathing was soft but deep, vents trying to disperse the cool air through his uncomfortably warm frame. If he truly desired, he could get up and ask if he could move to a colder room, and they would surely let him. But the very idea of moving and feeling his lower back start up its deep, persistent aching—Megatron let out a soft groan just thinking it.

A tiny pulse came from his chest. Megatron rested a hand on it, thumb rubbing slow circles into his plating. He sighed, and stared at the ceiling. Thoughts flitted through his processor, never staying long enough to steady him. Still, exhaustion eventually overtook him and he drifted away into a fitful sleep.

He awakens to singing.

Megatron frame is hot and sluggish, his vision hazy. There’s a soft, crooning voice, filling the room. It’s so sweet to Megatron’s ears.

“While I'm alone and blue as can be,

Dream a little dream of me...”

Someone is touching his chest. Megatron struggles to lift his head—it’s so heavy—and look at the mech who sits beside him.

Minimus perches on the edge of the berth, optics dimmed but still the brightest light in the room. Megatron’s breathing hitches, and he croaks, “M-Minimus.”

Minimus turns his gaze on him, and Megatron feels shaken to the core. His expression is serene, admiring, and holds so much love in it that Megatron must fight back tears. Minimus smiles at him.

“Hello, my love.”

At his words, Megatron’s spark flares in his chest. He attempts to sit up, but his spark holds him down, and he struggles against it. He wants to touch his lover, pull him close, and never let him go—but his hands weigh so much. He tries to lift them, but his fingers only twitch. Megatron whimpers. “Minimus. Minimus, please.”

Minimus does not seem to notice his distress. He only presses his hand to Megatron’s chest and says, “Shh. Rest.”

“I’m sorry. Minimus, I’m sorry,” Megatron’s optics spark at the edges. His voice is rough and laced with static, and Megatron does not care enough to try and clear it. He just wants Minimus to stay, to kiss him, to tell him why he left Megatron here with two sparks within him. His chest aches. Did Minimus know, when he left? He couldn’t have. Could he?

“Minimus, I’m-“ his voice breaks, “-my chest, I’m-“

“Carrying?” Minimus looks at him with a calm expression. His optics are half-lidded, but bemused. They glance to where the autobot brand still lies on his front, where Minimus’s hand rests. “Yes, I see.”

Megatron trembles. His thoughts are too slow. “I’m sorry. I-I’m sorry.” His head lolls to one side, tears bubbling up in his optics.

Minimus does not seem to hear. He is still studying Megatron’s slightly distended chestplates, rubbing the sensitive plating as he hums. “You’re beautiful, like this.” The bot shifts closer, his hip coming up to Megatron’s side. The contact feels like air. “There’s so much life within you,” he says with a small smile.

There are tears streaking down the side of Megatron’s face. Minimus notes none of them. “They’re going to be amazing. You’ll keep them safe?”

“Yes- I would give m-my life.” And he would, he would, he would not hesitate for a moment. Minimus seems quietly pleased. Megatron’s mouth is dry, even while steam wafts from his frame. It’s difficult to keep his optics open, but he can’t bear the thought of losing sight of Minimus.

Speaking of, the minibot lifts his body and lies down on Megatron’s front, stretching out languidly across his frame. The pressure hurts, but Megatron feels blessed by the contact. Reverent, Minimus lays his head on Megatron’s chest, dims his optics for a moment, and smiles. “I can hear them.”

Megatron, who imagines how wondrous it would feel to wrap his arms around his lover, says, “H-how?”

Minimus looks up at him with glittering optics. “They’re singing.”

Megatron chokes on a sob. The heat in his chest is overwhelming, it’s like a star has replaced his spark and is melting him from the inside out. Oh, and he can hear it, the unsteady yet constant warble that suddenly echoes through the room, around his flared plating.

“Oh,” he says as his optics blur with tears, “oh.”

He is so overcome in that moment that he almost misses how Minimus shuffles forward on his elbows. He does not miss how Minimus gazes down at him with relaxed amusement, and then dips his head to take Megatron’s lips in a kiss that nearly sends Megatron offline. Megatron’s vents gasp, his fans spinning so quickly they’re roaring.

Minimus is soft with him. He’s at first hesitant—his kiss is more of a brush of the lips than anything, light and delicate. Megatron surprises himself when he whines. His frame is on fire, and Minimus is snowmelt, washing over his blazing spark. He- he wants more. He wants so much more. Minimus draws back for a moment, and their noses brush. His optics flicker up to meet Megatron’s, then look back down to study his half-open mouth. He drags his thumb over Megatron’s plush lower lip, and Megatron kisses the digit. Minimus smiles.

Then, he ducks back down and pushes their mouths together insistently. Megatron’s optics flash as Minimus makes little pleased noises that slip from his lips whenever they are not locked with Megatron’s. Megatron tries to reciprocate as much as he can, tries to communicate in his touch how deep his love is. He loves Minimus desperately, and it shows in the fat tears that continue to fall from his optics even as Minimus kisses him like they’re conjunx endura. His processor is drowning in a sea of emotion—he cannot think straight. Minimus has closed his optics, but Megatron keeps his open, taking in every breathtaking detail of his partner’s face, committing it to memory.

When Minimus at last breaks their lips apart, Megatron gasps for breath. He’s suffocating, he’s caught in bliss, he wants Minimus to kiss him again.

But Minimus has lost his rosy veneer. He pushes himself upright, moving back so he straddles Megatron’s abdomen. His face is not angry, but—disappointed. Megatron feels a cold cloud of confusion drift over him. Minimus reaches out to lightly rest his palm on the autobot brand, tracing it with a finger.

“You’re going to leave soon,” he says with optics half-lidded.

Megatron’s optics leak sparks with the intensity of the shock that rolls through him. “N-no, Minimus- I love you!”

Minimus looks up to him. He holds on his face an expression of judgement—a weighing of his sins. Megatron feels such a sudden and real bolt of fear it sends all the plating on his frame rippling in a wave. His fingers twitch, but lie dead at his sides.

“Please, Minimus, I won’t go, I- love you. Please. I love you so much.” His words are cut off by sobs. In sharp relief, he feels the tip of the finger tracing across his chest press down.

Megatron does not hesitate for a moment before he opens his chest to reveal his spark. Green light shines upon Minimus’s face, whose look brightens.

They shared sparks, once. It was wonderful—breathtaking—shattering—and.. warm. That is what Megatron remembers of that night. He remembers Minimus’s apprehension being melted away by the glow of Megatron’s sparklight. He remembers Minimus bringing their chests together, and gasping as the coronae of their sparks brushed. He remembers feeling Minimus’s fear, his doubt, his excitement, and his all-encompassing love. He remembers the warmth of Minimus’s body.

Now, Minimus does not shift aside the plating of his chest. He reaches inside Megatron—who chokes at the sensation of those hands so close to the core of him—and draws something out. When Megatron’s optics clear themselves of fuzz, they fall upon the smooth grey protoform that lies in Minimus arms.

His vents draw in a sharp intake. Minimus cradles the protoform so carefully, his face soft and adoring. Part of Megatron’s processor cries—this is his husband, this is his sparkling’s father—but the other part reels.

“But- they’re not ready.” His throat is so dry.

Minimus looks at him, and his optics are not his own anymore. They are red, but they are flat. There is no love in his gaze. “No one is.” The room is dark. The sparkling is crying, crying, it has no mouth yet, it’s not ready but it’s gone from his chest and Megatron is empty now. Minimus’s optics are the only light in the room. They fix him in place and Megatron suffocates.

“I wasn’t.”

Megatron woke up to the sound of rattling. One of his fans had jammed, and now it was grinding uncomfortably against his internals.

Megatron did not make a note to have it fixed in the morning. He lay still, optics open wide, staring through the ceiling. The room was cooler, now. Perhaps Terminus or Orion had come in to check on him and adjusted the temperature for his comfort.

A tiny pulse came from his chest.

Megatron drew in a shuddering breath. It came out a sob. He turned on his side and drew his knees up to his chest, hugging them, following millennia-old code that told him to protect the spark when the world falls apart. Then, he trembled at the ghost of a voice he never heard.

It murmured into the back of his neck: “Name them after a star, won’t you?”

[jcmorrigan]

Little Coincidences

The F/O? Giovanni Potage from Epithet Erased. The S/I? Rachel Scribere - mundie, writer of much fanfiction, independent contractor supervillainous minion who has also given up on adulting. (Most of those things apply to me IRL!) This is the one where I’m REALLY banking on no one who went to high school with me following me on Tumblr right now, because I get into some personal-ish stuff here that was very specific to my graduating class. I just...wanted my current f/o to show up a ghost from my past. And what are f/o’s for, if not that?

***

         It started when Giovanni ran past me, pressed a marker into my hand, and yelled, “MARKER FIGHT!”

           Yes, there is context. I wanted to simulate the exact sense of confusion for you that I felt when he did that.

           To be clear, it was during down time in the “evil lair” that our sector of Blasters had taken over – a public library that had been defunded by the city but never torn down, so really, it was a bunch of empty bookshelves (where you could occasionally find an old and really weird book they’d missed on the clear-out) where no one would think to look for us because this entire building was basically a health hazard. We were only about ninety-five percent sure there wasn’t asbestos in the walls.

           Also, if I’ve talked before about the mall incident, or the kiss before the skyline – this was before that. A lot before that. Back when I knew I liked Giovanni in the romantic sense, but he wasn’t exactly aware of that, nor did he really like me in that way. No, this was when I was a pining idiot and we were just friends.

           At which point he shoved a marker into my hand.

           “What the fuck?” I asked.

           “MARKER FIGHT,” he repeated, as though that explained everything.

           The worst part was that it actually did.

           See, I hadn’t wanted to say it at that time, but it frightened me. I’d seen this done before, in one very specific place. How had he known? “Just to be clear,” I said deliberately, “this is that game where each of us wields a marker of a different color, we LARP it out, drawing on someone is a ‘wound,’ and we tally the winner by who has the most of their color on everyone else?”

           “Good. I was worried I’d have to explain the whole thing to you. Now we can skip the tutorial phase and go right to the EVERY-BOY-FOR-HIMSELF RIVALRY!” He let out a raucous and malicious-sounding cackle for about thirty solid seconds before telling me, “You get a ten-second head start.”

           I wasted no time bolting away from him, darting at random zigzags through the shelves to avoid any other Blasters who were playing. Then I heard the triumphant scream of “TIME IS UP, COMPOSER!”

           At which point I almost ran into Ben.

           “Oh, SWEET!” he cried, raising a red marker high. “Maybe this is how I finally get the nickname ‘Stabby’!”

           I screamed as he put a red mark across my forehead. I then retaliated, drawing a line of cobalt-blue down his ear as though lopping it off.

           “MY EAR!” Ben screeched. “SHE VAN-GOGHED ME!”

           I used his cries to dart away around the shelves…right into the same area as Crusher.

           “So,” he growled, raising his lime-green marker. “It’s come to this…ROMANTIC RIVAL.”

           “Don’t try me right now,” I warned, showing him my deep-blue pseudo-dagger. “I’m armed and dangerous.”

           “I think the only way to settle our mutual affections for the Boss is to duel to the death.”

           “So you have chosen death, then.”

           It was rather obvious why Crusher and I didn’t really get along most days. However, for a few minutes, we kind of forgot that we were supposed to hate each other. I managed to leave several long blue lines up Crusher’s arms, screaming “SUBMIT! SUBMIT!”, until suddenly I was pinned down, getting green scribbled down my entire face as Crusher roared, “SURRENDERRRRRR!”

           From a row away, Ben groaning, “Come onnnnn, you know I have dibs on ‘Stabby’! Don’t ruin this for me!”

           Suddenly, Crusher’s eyes widened; “I’VE BEEN HIT!” He rolled over onto his back, making exaggerated, dramatic death noises.

           “COMPOSER!” Spike, the one who’d perpetrated the fatal silver blow, extended a hand to me. “TEMPORARY ALLIANCE!”

           I let her help me up just in time for Flamethrower to skid into the area, striking several cheerleader-precision poses with flair as he brandished his fire-orange marker.

           “AVENGE MEEEEEE!” Crusher yelled.

           Flamethrower’s cheerleading practice was put to good use. Spike and I combined couldn’t stymie him; he danced circles around us, and our skin displayed orange marks of his prowess. Meanwhile, Crusher changed “death” positions five times, making louder groans each time to try and get attention.

           “CRUSHERRRRR!” this from Darkstar, who’d just skidded onto the scene. “NOOOOOO! WHO DID THIS TO YOU?”

           “THEY DID IT!” Flamethrower jabbed his marker at Spike and myself.

           “HE DID IT!” we yelled, pointing back at him.

           “FLAMETHROWER!” Darkstar accused. “HOW COULD YOU?”

           “ME? BUT – “

           “THIS MEANS WAAAAAAR!”

           As Team Composer finally got the upper hand on Flamethrower, Darkstar paused to whisper to me, “I know one of you two got him, but I’ve been waiting for WEEKS to get Flamethrower back for eating my pudding out of the staff lounge.”

           We didn’t argue.

           Behind the shelf, Ben yelled, “Oh, where was this when you found ME stabbed?”

           We all froze when the sound of a running motor alerted us to the impending horror.

           “…Please tell me Boss decided to bring his Vespa into this to spice it up,” I said, voicing what we were all thinking. “Please, please, please tell me it was NOT hijacked by – “

           Our worst fears were confirmed when Car Crash came driving Giovanni’s scooter around the corner at top speed, his marker taped to the handlebars; “BEEP BEEP, FUCKERS!”

           All of our rivalries were gone. We screamed and ran as one herd of panicked cattle, trying to get as far away as possible from Car Crash on a stolen motorized vehicle. At some point, Ben ended up in our crowd. I didn’t bother asking.

           As it turned out, we were all playing right into the hands of the enemy. We hurried to the circular area around the children’s info desk only to find the area quickly filling up with a thick mist. Mist that smelled…suspiciously delicious.

           “NO!” I screeched. “MISSION ABORT! MISSION – “

           It was too late. We were trapped in the Fog of Lost Souls.

           “BOSS, NO!” Crusher dropped to his knees. “SPARE ME! PLEASE! I LOVE YOU!”

           “I LOVE YOU MORE!” Spike screeched. “SPARE ME INSTEAD!”

           I couldn’t even see either of them. Somehow, we’d all gotten horribly separated. The distinct sound of Car Crash running the Vespa into the info desk and groaning, “Aw, man!” resounded.

           The maniacal laughter I’d heard earlier when gifted my weapon sounded again, but louder, and from on high – he was standing on top of one of the bookshelves. “YOU POOR, SIMPLE FOOLS! …WhoIloveverymuchandhateinsultingbutthisisaroleplay. YOU WALKED RIGHT INTO YOUR OWN DOOM! Alliances and loyalty mean nothing in this bloodthirsty war! NONE OF YOU SHALL BE SPARED! TELEPORTS RAPIDLY BEHIND EVERYONE!”

           I’m half convinced he actually did teleport this time, because the screams sounded from everyone right in order of one another; somehow, Giovanni was able to locate each of us within his fog and strike out, drawing glitter-gold wounds on each of us in strategic locations. I could feel the cool ink swipe hard across the back of my neck.

           I did the only thing one could do, which was to drop to my knees and scream in faux anguish. Then slump to the floor as if well and truly decapitated.

           When the fog cleared, it turned out all of us had had the same idea, lying strewn about like a murder scene. Even the Vespa had been drawn on in metallic gold ink in the confusion and was lying toppled.

           Atop the info desk, Giovanni laughed triumphantly, hoisting his marker to the ceiling. “YOU ARE DEALING WITH NO MERE MORTAL! THIS WAR WAS LOST THE MOMENT IT WAS BEGUN!”

           “Would it be foul play to act like we were all just playing dead and then rush him at once?” I muttered.

           To my surprise, it was Crusher of all people who answered back, “No, it wouldn’t.”

           We all knew what we had to do.

           “Hey – “ Giovanni nearly fell back off the desk. “Boys – no – YOU’RE ALL DEAD – “

           I yelled “FAKEOUT!” at the same time that Spike yelled “MUTINY!” and Ben yelled “ZOMBIE APOCALYPSE!”

           We charged, climbing up onto the desk. It was your standard library info desk – at least standard to all the ones I’d seen – meaning it was semicircular in design. Giovanni fell back onto the floor right in the middle of the circlular area. After a brief pause in which he assured us, “I’m fine; please continue,” we vaulted over the desk en masse and drew on every bit of exposed skin to the sounds of his tortured screams.

           It was the most fun I’d had on the Blasters since becoming a Blaster-adjacent independent contractor villain. However, I still couldn’t shake how haunting it was that I had already known the rules of marker war. There was no way – I hadn’t gone to school with any of the Blasters, and my family hadn’t even started out in Sweet Jazz City. And I wasn’t sure at all how to address this.

 ***

           The second incident was also in the library, a few days later. I was heading into the employee lounge (which had originally, when it was a functioning library, been…an employee lounge) with my phone so I could make a highly sensitive business call about appraising a hijacked load of game consoles, followed up by a dentist appointment I’d been putting off.

           One minute, I was strolling into the lounge, strutting like any villain would, phone in hand. And the next, I was sitting on the floor, heart racing with adrenaline, someone’s scream ringing in the air.

           It took me a moment to realize that scream was mine.

           It was followed up by laughter – a slowly building wheeze into an outright chortle. “Composerrrrrr! I knew you’d freak, but not like THAT!”

           I replayed the events in my mind. What had happened in that missing flash was that someone who’d been hiding behind the door frame had leapt at me and jumpscared me while I had been on my way into the lounge.

           Not just any someone. No, one very specific fanged, pink-haired ball of energy.

           “GIOVANNI…POTAGE,” I growled, slowly turning my head to regard him.

           He had tears in his eyes now from laughing so hard. “You should’ve seen your face,” he squeaked. “It was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen in my life!”

           Well, I’d always wanted to hear that from him, but not in that context.

           “I…am going…to kill you,” I growled.

           With an “Eek!”, Giovanni realized he needed to run, and he did so.

           I needed a weapon. The fridge was the first thing I saw. Throwing open the door, I saw a pack of pudding cups labeled “DARKSTAR’S (don’t touch, Flamethrower!!!”). And nothing else.

           I did not feel sorry for Darkstar one bit.

           Armed with chocolate pudding, I barreled through the rows of shelves, looking for my wayward boss. Oh, don’t get me wrong. I wasn’t entirely angry. I wasn’t that angry at all. But when your crush jumpscares you, that is just not something you let go without having some fun.

           I happened upon him behind the first-floor stairway, where I backed him up against the underside of the stairs. “NOT THE FACE!” he screeched as he put up both arms.

           And I lost resolve.

           When a few seconds had passed and Giovanni found himself not pelted with pudding, he asked, “Hey, what gives?” as though legitimately frustrated with me. “You caught me! Now you gotta dish out what I gave to you! Geez, did you forget everything I told you about villainy and revenge?”

           “This isn’t right,” I muttered. “Sorry for wasting your time. I’ll go now.”

           I hadn’t meant it to sound that melodramatic. Anyway, I turned on a heel to return the pudding to its home.

           “Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa!” Giovanni seized my wrist as I turned away, and I felt my heart flutter. “Composer, this isn’t like you! Where’s the vicious femme fatale I mentored into villainous perfection?”

           I froze. “Actually doing anything about the jumpscare is more effective at scaring people off than the scare itself, believe it or not.”

           “What the hell? What even is that crap? Just get me back already! Stop being weird!”

           Maybe, just maybe, I’d gotten this all wrong.

           So I started slowly and deliberately unwrapping the lid of the first pudding cup right there in front of him.

           “Now RIGHT IN THE FACE!” Giovanni encouraged.

           I gave him a quizzical look.

           “Come onnn, Composer! I don’t have all day!”

           So I slopped the pudding onto his face halfheartedly.

           “Seriously?” he sighed. “You can do way better than that.”

           “You’re right,” I realized. “I can.”

           So I smacked the second one onto his nose, full stop.

           “Now THAT’S what I call some DELICIOUS VENGEANCE!” Giovanni laughed. “But seriously. I have things to do. Important, evil things.”

           “Okay. I still have to make those calls.”

           “In the lounge?”

           “Yeah.”

           “…Could you do me a favor and get me a soda from the gas station across the street first? I’m thirsty and decaffeinated.”

           I shrugged, rather confused but not about to be rude about it. “Sure. Be right back.”

           “I’ll come pick it up from you in the lounge.”

           It wasn’t until I was repeating my steps that I realized the ruse. “Oh, no fuckin’ way,” I muttered as I approached the lounge.

           I shook the plastic soda up good and hard. Then chucked it into the lounge.

           “HYEEEAH!” Giovanni yelled as he revealed himself to scare an inanimate bottle of soda. “…Wait.”

           “REALLY?” I groaned, rolling my eyes.

           “It was hilarious!” Giovanni argued. “You’re the best person to scare!”

           “I do need to actually get some work done today, you know.”

           “Fiiiiine,” Giovanni sighed. “I’ll leave you alone. Just – “ His eyes widened as he thought of something. “Hey, you don’t mind me hanging out in here while you make your calls, do you?”

           Just me and the object of my affections hanging out alone in a room? What was he playing at?

           “See,” he went on mischievously, “if you’re in here making a call like nothing’s wrong, and another Blaster sees you from the outside of the door…”

           “They’re going to assume there is absolutely no one waiting to scare them behind it,” I realized. “You’re a fucking genius, Boss.”

           “I know.”

           “Deal.”

           As I took my seat, bringing out my phone, Giovanni had retrieved the soda bottle. “I am pretty thirsty, though – “

           “BOSS, DON’T – “

           The minute he opened the cap, it exploded into a geyser that soaked him.

           I couldn’t make my call for a solid fifteen minutes due to laughing too goddamn hard.

 ***

           The camel’s back broke when we were alone together at the strategy table, going over some reconnaissance notes I’d brought back from a surveillance mission.

           “So anyway, I think we have the best chance from one of these three windows,” I explained, cycling through flash cards I’d taped photos to. “We could test for alarms by chucking a good old-fashioned brick through the glass.”

           “Or a bottle of soda that was shaken up,” Giovanni teased.

           I laughed. And also flushed. I hated that he was so goddamn oblivious, sometimes.

           “I mean, it’s practically your specialty!” he argued, leaning back in his chair and setting his ankles on the table, crossing them, one over the other.

           The problem was that it was Casual Friday. Which was not an official Blaster protocol, but rather something that Giovanni himself had developed for this specific faction. He’d thought it would improve morale, and he was right. I myself had resorted to a pair of sweatpants and a band T-shirt that didn’t match. He was wearing a pair of battered jeans and a favorite gray sweater of his, edged in white faux fur. That much I had known.

           I hadn’t seen his shoes yet.

           And right before my eyes, one over the other, he crossed a pair of red Converse high-tops.

           The strategy meeting was abandoned. I slammed my flash cards on the table, rising up and yelling, “WHO TOLD YOU?”

           “OKAY, I ADMIT IT!” he screamed, looking like I’d gotten him with his hands in the cookie jar. “BEN RATTED HIM OUT BECAUSE BEN’S A SNITCH!”

           “HOW. DID BEN. KNOW ABOUT HIM?”

           “BECAUSE HE WAS IN THE LOUNGE THAT DAY AND SAW HIM TAKING IT!”

           I flinched. “We’re not on the same page, are we?”

           “You’re…not asking me about how Ben ratted on Flamethrower for taking Darkstar’s pudding, and I told Darkstar because I thought it would be funny to start shit?”

           I wasn’t really sure where to take that. “…No.”

           “Thennnnnn what are we talking abouuuuut?” His voice rose a little bit on every word to express his utter confusion.

           I sighed heavily. “So you didn’t hear anything about my high school?”

           “No.”

           “Nothing. Not a thing.”

           “Composer, I have no idea where this is going.”

           I sat back down. “This is a complicated story. You don’t wanna – “

           Instantly, Giovanni had repositioned, leaning across the table excitedly. “IS THIS WHERE I GET TO FINALLY HEAR ABOUT THE DARK AND TRAGIC PART OF YOUR BACKSTORY THAT DROVE YOU TO A LIFE OF CRIME?”

           I found myself smiling. “I mean, my parents aren’t dead ghosts. I gotta have some raison d’etre, right?”

           “Tell me. Tellmetellmetellme.”

           I couldn’t look him in the eye. “So…when I was in high school, there was this…guy.”

           “Ooh. This sounds promising.”

           “And I really wanted…”

           Oh, God. I couldn’t tell Giovanni that I was acting this way because of someone I’d had an obsessive crush on. Then he might make the connection that I had a similar one on him. (I had greatly overestimated how canny Giovanni could be about such things. This was back in the day when you could tell him upfront you loved him more than life itself and he wouldn’t get it.)

           “…to be his friend.” And sadly, that was probably the heart of it, more than the romance aspect itself. “He was very loud and weird. But in a good way. Or so I thought, anyway. Not like I was alone, either. Everyone in my school wanted to be near him. EVERYONE. When he changed school districts our last year, there was literally a CROWD of girls around him at his locker begging him to tell them contact info. While I sat several feet away, pretending to read my book, hoping that he’d notice me for NOT being part of the crowd. What a load of bullshit. Then, of course, there are so many guys who claimed to be straight and hung around him just a little too closely…he was that pretty. He was REALLY pretty. And he was smart and he was charismatic and he was fun and…he just…he never wanted to interact with me. He’d throw me just enough of a bone to keep the flame alive, and then act like I wasn’t even real. Probably because I was super dumb and immature back then. Like, way super dumb. I would try to play along with his stunts and he’d blow me off. I finally became disillusioned when he…broke a rule, later on. It doesn’t matter. It was dumb. But I told myself he’d crossed a moral event horizon. I let myself believe it was that one incident for years. …It was never about that. It was about how I wanted to be close to him for years, and he wouldn’t let me in, and he wouldn’t completely shut me out, either. Though maybe that’s my fault for not just…walking up to him and asking him to be my friend. I’ve always been chickenshit.”

           “So…what makes you think I know about him?”

           Giovanni’s tone struck me as strangely sympathetic. I chanced looking into his eyes –

           Oh, God. Wrong move. How had I never noticed they were that brilliantly pink before? I mean, I had known they were pink, but this was like having a rose-colored spotlight turned on me. And were those little gold flecks in the iris? Or was my crush-filter just seeing things?

           But once I stopped seeing the trees, I got a good look at the forest. I couldn’t remember having seen Giovanni so pensive. So concerned, yet in a way that wasn’t over an injury sustained by a teammate or the impending arrival of the police. He was genuinely getting sad off this story.

           “…Because the little quirks I fell for him for are just weirdly similar to the stuff you’ve been doing this week,” I admitted. “He and his posse did marker war all the time. I think his was red? I always wanted to play in the marker war. It looked like they were having so much fun, and I wanted to face off against him. And then the jumpscare. He did that to me, once. Almost exactly the same way you did. That’s where I learned the tactic of throwing an inanimate object through the door. He got me good, and I got mad, and then we never talked about it, if he thought it was funny or what. I thought maybe he thought I was ACTUALLY mad, and that scared him off.”

           “So THAT’S why you didn’t exact your chocolatey revenge.”

           “Bingo. I was just terrible at talking about my feelings, so I just insulted him a lot instead of being honest. It was probably all my fault. And the shoes. He had a pair like that. Exactly like that. I used to try and get his attention by…” I let out a long, deep sigh. “Telling him they looked like they were run over by a ketchup truck.”

           “That’s not a bad one-liner.”

           “‘KETCHUP TRUCK’ ISN’T A BAD ONE-LINER?” I shook my head. “Anyway. I dunno. I can never figure out if he was just an ass or if I was just…” I sighed. “These are just coincidences, aren’t they?”

           “Yeah,” Giovanni confirmed. “They are. I thought I invented marker war. If you ever see this guy again, tell him I gotta sue him for the rights. And I wear these shoes ‘cause they’re devil-may-care and hot-rod red, keeping my aesthetic suitably edgy even when out of uniform. …They’re also comfy.”

           “So I just told you all that for no reason. Like a dumbass. It isn’t even that great of a tragic backstory, is it?” I was laughing then, to try and cover up how absolutely sheepish I felt. “You didn’t need to know any of that, and nowwwww it’s all awkward.”

           “Not awkward. Just…really confusing.”

           “How so?”

           Giovanni gave me a dramatic shrug; “Why didn’t he wanna hang out with you? You’re GREAT at marker war! You fit right in! And you’re honestly the most fun person I’ve ever scared! You think any of the boys freak out that hard? That was hilarious! You’d better watch your back now, because you’ve given me an incentive to try and do it SO much more.”

           I wanted to make some kind of snappy retort about throwing soda bottles. However, it felt like I was receiving a catharsis long overdue. Maybe it didn’t matter who was wrong and who was right, back then. Because now, I had someone who did want to have fun with me.

           Just as a friend, I thought. But maybe that was all that mattered, and the crush could be dealt with later.

           “I was so much worse back then,” I tried to argue. “I was hyper.”

           “So you mean you were even MORE fun?”

           I almost wanted to cry.

           “Whoa, hey, hey, hey!” Seeing the perturbation on my face, Giovanni rushed around the table, lightly putting his hands on my shoulders as he knelt beside my chair. “You’re plenty fun to hang with, Composer! Every day, I’m really glad I helped you get started in the villain biz and invited you into the lair! I mean…back when I was in high school and I tried to do stuff like that for fun, nobody really paid attention to me, either, and I would’ve KILLED for someone to actually think I was cool instead of just…some weirdo who wore capes to school and drew original supervillain characters for all my art projects.”

           “You wore a cape?” I asked. “That is so cool!”

           “Yeah, well, no one said that THEN.”

           “But it was! Now I’m kinda wishing we could’ve gone in the same graduating class.” And also wishing that he would never take those hands off of me, ever.

           “NOYOUDON’T,” he said hurriedly. “Because I was…ummmm…I was a juvenile delinquent, and you were obsessed with rules! Yeah! And I just…wasn’t the person you’d want me to be.”

           I wouldn’t figure out until a later discussion what that meant, truly, and it had nothing to do with breaking or following rules. But that doesn’t have to be tread upon now. “Actually, you’re right. Better things happened the way they did.”

           “So what else did that loser not do with you for fun?”

           “He was the most popular kid in our entire school,” I muttered. “No one thought he was a loser except me.”

           “Yeah, because you actually have a BRAIN in there! And I say he was a LOSER!”

           I smiled at him. “I guess…I dunno, I always heard he was great at dancing. And I always wished we could dance. Probably just because of societal and cultural expectations. But I’m a shit dancer. Like, there was this whole movement dedicated to making fun of – where are you going?”

           Giovanni beckoned for me to follow him; “Come on!”

           “Wasn’t this originally a strategy meeting?”

           “Don’t care! We’re breaking the rules, baby!”

           I followed him back to the staff lounge, where I watched him struggle to push the table off to the side. He got it out of the way before I could offer my help, then flitted to the radio sitting on the counter by the sink. “Let’s see here…”

           I could feel my face filling with heat. “Boss, I don’t think this is a great idea.”

           “Shut up. It’s my idea, so it’s a great one.” He was cycling through the stations. “No, no, no, no, no, no – PERFECT!”

           What he’d found was an anti-authoritarian anthem currently on the rock top 40. Not exactly what you’d think of as a dance number, but it had enough of a beat that I could work with it if pressed.

           Which he would have to do a lot of if he wanted to see me make an idiot out of myself like that.

           “Come on!” he encouraged. “Show me some moves!”

           “I’ll look stupid!” I hissed.

           “SO? You don’t see that stopping me from doing literally anything!”

           “…Did you even hear how that sounded coming out of your mouth? Also, this isn’t a dance song!”

           “Um, it’s a song, so you can dance to it.” He gave a long, drawn-out sigh. “Are you really gonna make me start this?”

           “Oh, no, you don’t n – “

           “Cut in whenever.”

           I wasn’t sure how him starting to dance was supposed to encourage me at all. Because I’ll be honest: he was probably only an average dancer. But I was below average, and looking at him through the crush-filter. He looked like the most graceful living being I’d ever beheld with my two eyes, spinning and rocking in time with the heavy guitar.

           I was not going to look good next to that.

           Of course, this was not any ordinary man I was dealing with. It was Giovanni Potage. Meaning he had a contingency plan. Without any warning whatsoever, he seized my hand and pulled me into a spin with him, and then, well, I was already in motion, so I had to keep going.

           By the third song, it didn’t even feel awkward anymore. I just felt alive. I know I looked like an absolute dork, but I had stopped caring, throwing out arms and leaping about to the hard tempo of every dark anthem. The fourth song was a personal fave of mine – with an incredibly complex guitar riff that just begged a person to go double-time. As I attempted to execute a series of spins to match, I simply lost balance and fell over, hitting the table on my way down.

           Stupid. Idiot. Why was I doing this? I’d just made an ass of myself in front of –

           Without even really pausing, Giovanni dipped before me, offering his hand. I took it on instinct, then rose, letting him reel me right back in, so glad he’d just hit resume where I’d slammed into pause mode.

           At last, I collapsed into the pushed-aside chair, panting heavily. “No more,” I heaved. “I need…to catch…my breath.”

           He hopped up to sit on the tabletop beside me. “Now THAT was some fun,” he remarked. “We gotta do that more often.”

           This was the same pitfall I’d dropped into so many times back in the day, with the ghost of my past. Making up excuses to get near him. Taking casual opportunities to interact with him without making my real intentions clear. Maybe this whole time, I was afraid that would drive him away.

           Maybe this whole time, I’d been thinking of him as a jerkass without actually acknowledging how hard he really blew me off for three fucking years. So what if I wanted to get closer to Giovanni? We were friends. And I liked him. Maybe that would go somewhere. Maybe it wouldn’t. And most importantly, he wanted to dance with me.

           “Yeah,” I agreed. “We should.”

[books-bring-you-to-wonderland]

Be Our Guest

A request for REDACTED! Title should give this away, Disney BBS AU- enjoy! Ohmtoonz and Terrormoo- sorry if the formatting is off, Tumblr is a bitch

Ohm was a bit worried, walking through dark and unfamiliar halls. He made sure to stick close to Brian- the candlestick providing a rather warm glow in the dusty corridors. Evan was toddling next to the candelabra, his wooden feet echoing loudly on the stone-tiled floors- nearly in time with the ticking of the clock that made up most of his face. “Brian! Slow down! We’re going to lose Ohm-” “Slow down? Thought ye always wanted to be on time?” Brian turned to his friend with a smirk, hopping just a little faster just to spite the clock. His laughter was nice to hear, and Ohm found himself smiling despite the crazy circumstances he had been thrown into. Magic appliances? A beast with one eye? He did say he wanted something more than the provincial life… “Maybe I should be more careful with my wishes.” Ohm said, more to himself than to his hosts. His mouth was open, poised to ask a question, but the words died on his tongue as they all rounded the corner and the dining room came into view. Even dusty and nearly barren it was still gorgeous; with a high painted ceiling, unused but pretty china resting in a cabinet along the fall wall, and most importantly the table- a long piece of mahogany that shined like ice despite the rest of the room’s rot. Brian and Evan seemed to pay no mind to the state of the dining room, jumping onto the table with surprising ease. Ohm wandered in after them, trying not to eavesdrop but it was hard not to when Brian was shouting- in the direction he assumed to be the kitchen- before turning back to Ohm with that charming smile on wax features. A bright light fell straight upon the candelabra, making him glow even brighter than his own candlelight. “Mon cher Monsieur! it is with deepest pride and greatest pleasure that we welcome you tonight. And now we invite you to relax, let us pull up a chair-” As soon as the words left the candle’s lips, a chair swept up behind him from seemingly out of nowhere- his knees buckling as the edge of the seat knocked against him. In any other circumstance, he would have screamed- but he was more charmed than anything; enamored with the magic and mystery that hung around the castle like a thick fog. With the chair snug against the table, Ohm had no choice but to look to the candle once more, whose snuffer looked more like a fashionable hat atop his head. “-as the dining room proudly presents: your dinner!” One look at Evan showed that the clock wasn’t too fond of whatever antics Brian was up to (if the eye roll was anything to go by). Soft piano, barely audible, sounded through the nearly empty room. Ohm turned his head in any attempt to find the source of the music, but his attention was quickly diverted when the flirty candle on the table started singing, his voice just as accented in melody as it was in speech. “Be our guest! Be our guest! Put our service to the test. Tie yer napkin 'round yer neck, cherie and we'll provide the rest!” Brian had to sing just a bit louder as the sudden clanking of metal and china drowned out the song- trays and dishes spilling from the kitchen and heading straight for them, whereupon they danced onto the wooden surface with linens to cover the tabletop. Brian didn’t seem unfazed at all, dancing around silverware and platters to get a bit closer to Ohm. His candle hands, which were still lit, gestured to a few covered trays- and they opened up like clamshells, wafting heavenly smells of fresh bread and cooked veggies. “Soup du jour, hot hors d'oeuvres- why, we only live to serve! Try the grey stuff, it's delicious! Don't believe me? Ask the dishes-” With a mouthful of sweet bread, Ohm turned his head to the dusty china cabinet where a ruckus had started. The plates tumbled and rolled out of the open cabinet doors with ease, swirling around in a synchronized dance as more melodic voices filled the dining room. “They can sing, they can dance, after all Sir, this is France- And a dinner here is never second best! Go on, unfold your menu- take a glance and then you'll be our guest, be our guest, be our guest!” Evan seemed to be having a pretty hard time- clumsy on his feet the more wound up he got (literally). Brian just smirked as he twirled around the clock, narrowly dodging a swipe aimed his way. More trays opened up at Brian passed them, his candlelight casting a pretty golden glow over all of the dishes. “Beef ragout, cheese soufflé, pie and puncakes en flambé! We'll prepare and serve with flair a culinary cabaret!” The candelabra sidled up onto the arm of Ohm’s chair, leaning close enough so the inventor’s son could feel the heat from his light on pale skin. Ohm found he couldn’t wipe the excited grin from his lips even if he tried- he did have to stop himself from bouncing in his chair, though (mainly because he didn’t want to hurt the thing). “Yer alone and yer scared- but the banquet's all prepared. No one's gloomy or complainin’ while the flatware's entertaining! We tell jokes! I do tricks-” As Brian sang, he tossed the hard wax of his hands in the air, juggling them for a moment as he belted the words, eyes closed and smile wide on his beige wax features. “-with my fellow candlesticks, and it's all in perfect taste that ye can bet! Come on and lift yer glass-” A dozen or so cups, filled with wine and beer alike, hopped and spun around Ohm’s side of the table- just narrowly keeping their liquid contained as it sloshed around the sides. “-ye've won yer own free pass to be our guest- if yer stressed, it's fine dining we suggest. Be our guest! Be our guest! Be our guest!” The upbeat music seemed to die down a it, replaced with music more somber and softer- and the dancing came to a standstill all at once. The lights dimmed down one more, this time Evan in the spotlight- frozen as he was singled out from all of the silverware and china. Brian sidled up to the clock, wrapping a spindly arm around wooden shoulders. With one small blow Brian’s lights in his hands were out- but the candelabra started singing as if it didn’t happen, voice low and solemn. “Life is so unnerving for a servant who's not serving- he's not whole without a soul to wait upon.” Brian shook his head sadly, memories flooding blue eyes. Evan seemed to somber up a bit too, his clock ticking slower and sadder, if that was even possible. Ohm bit his lip, clearly missing a bit of context as the staff reminisced. It just made him even more curious about the beast that was currently residing god knows where.   “Ah, those good old days when we were useful… Suddenly those good old days are gone…” A pause, and Brian draped himself over one of Evan’s arms, looking far too dramatic- especially when his candles lit back in a snap, bathing wood and gold in a bright glimmer. “Ten years we've been rusting- needing so much more than dusting. Needing exercise, a chance to use our skills! Most days we just lay around the castle…” The mood as well as the beat seemed to perk up instantly, as if flicked on by a switch, and Brian’s voice came back cheeky and sultry as it always was. “Flabby, fat and lazy- You walked in and oops-a-daisy-” Maybe Brian’s sudden enthusiasm had to do with the lovely teapot that made his grand appearance, all smiles and twirls as he sashayed across the white linen- past numerous trays of food and dessert. His little boy- Squirrel- the teacup with the chip in his left side, hopped behind him eagerly, sloshing tea a bit over the clean tablecloth. “It's a guest! It's a guest! Sake's alive, well I'll be blessed! Wine's been poured and thank the Lord I've had the napkins freshly pressed!” Brock’s smile never left his face, nearly as bright as the white porcelain that made up the majority of his body, sans the multicolored pieces that were more decoration. Pink, yellow, and orange paint stood out as colorful as the teapot’s personality. Ohm pushed himself out of his chair- unable to stop himself from dancing as the melody picked up. He saw Brock’s gaze follow him, but the teapot just kept smiling and hopped with a bit more spring in his step. “With dessert, he'll want tea- and my dear that's fine with me. While the cups do their soft-shoein', I'll be bubbling, I'll be brewing. I'll get warm, piping hot-” Brock trailed off from his thought, eyes focused on the little teacup at his side- and when Ohm twirled around he managed to spot a little smudge on the right side of the cup’s face. “Heaven's sakes! Is that a spot? Clean it up! We want the company impressed-” Ohm watched with a giggle as Brock wiped at Squirrel’s face like an overbearing mother, the teacup giggling too as he was spun around, his laugh bright and so innocent. “We've got a lot to do, is it one lump or two? For you, our guest!” “He's our guest!” “He's our guest!” “Be our guest! Be our guest! Be our guest!” The music picked up once more, Ohm taking in the sight with pretty green eyes as more and more and more plates and silverware flooded the table, along with dusters and trays, their metal glittering with every turn and swivel as they swept across the now clean tabletop. In a loud but nice harmony- voices loud and belting in the dining room. Even Evan seemed to join in the clock’s tick clicking in time with the fast beat, and the hands on his face spinning faster and faster across his cheeks and over his eyes. “Be our guest! Be our guest! Our command is your request. It's been years since we've had anybody here- And we're obsessed! With your meal, with your ease yes, indeed, we aim to please. While the candlelight's still glowing let us help you, we'll keep going…” Brian cut in, his Irish lilt cutting through the many different voices of the table. Ohm kept swishing from side to side, watching with bright eyes as the candle hurried over to dip Brock- the teapot flushing pink across white porcelain. “Course by course, one by one- 'til ye shout, ‘Enough! I'm done!’. Then we'll sing you off to sleep as you digest! Tonight you'll prop your feet up But for now, let's eat up-” There was so much for Ohm to take in- so many dancers, plates and napkins spinning fast enough to become blurs. Voices louder than ever, lights flashing with gold and yellow wherever Brian sashayed by, Evan and Brock hot on his heels with a small teacup hurrying to bounce along with the rhythm behind them all. It was better than any book he had read, the books long forgotten as the fantastic scene in front of him came to a climax. “Be our guest! Be our guest! Be our guest! Please, be our guest!” A cacophony of music, loud and bright and enchanting as the last note was held. With careful ears, Ohm could pick up the four distinct tones of the servants he had gotten to know the best. His heart felt close to exploding- and it did- Or rather, the dining room doors had slammed open, the beast standing in the doorway. His sudden appearance made everyone shut up in an instant, forks and knives clattering on the tabletop and making the subsequent silence that much more awkward. It was broken by the beast, a snarl on his lips, his good eye filled with hate and anger as he roared, “BE QUIET!” before storming off just as quickly as he appeared. Like lightning and thunder; a flash and a boom, leaving the servants shaken and a bit upset. “Well, that was rude.” Ohm was certainly going to give this Cartoonz a piece of his mind.

[noradarhkpalmer]

and i will hold onto you

Title: and i will hold onto you

Rating: PG

Pairing: Nora Darhk/Ray Palmer aka Darhkatom

Warnings: It sad

Summary/Notes: It's the anniversary of Anna Loring, Ray's late fiancee's, death and this year it's hitting Ray harder than it ever has. This time he has Nora there to comfort him.

I’m so sorry I fell behind on these! I had some personal health problems come up but I am going to try and catch up! This one is extra long! Enjoy!

Day thirteen of 25 days of Darhkatom! Feel free to click the through the tag to see the others! Basically, I will be posted all loosely related (unless stated otherwise) fics for 25 days straight!

Ray, eternal sunshine, always smiling, Palmer was quiet on what Nora thought was a beautiful day in May. Anachronism activity had been light and so the Legends decided on a little shore leave. Ray still had an apartment in Star City so they decided to go there. Nora was surprised to see Ray relieved to spend time away from the other Legends and yes they were insufferable at times but she also knew that Ray and the Legends were thicker than any blood ties that he formed with this family.

She followed him up to his apartment with their belongings and walked in behind him. When Nora got to the bedroom she placed her bag on one side of his bed and she sighed. Something was wrong with Ray. She walked back out to the living room and saw him staring out one of the floor to ceiling windows. She came up behind him and wrapped her arms around his middle and pressed her cheek to his back.

“Hey… what’s on your mind, babe?”

Ray turned so he could wrap and arm around Nora and she snuggled into his side. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head and sighed. “It’s nothing, I’m sorry I’ve been quiet, just trying to adjust to being back here.”

“Yeah, I guess it has been a while for you, huh?” She closed her eyes as he absently stroked her hair. “Do you want to go out and get lunch or maybe or in or cook? I’m up for anything.”

Ray nodded. “Yeah, we can order in.” He broke away in search of takeout menus and left Nora at the window.

Nora wrapped her arms around herself and sighed. He was still hiding something from her.

It wasn’t like Ray to put up walls like this. Usually he was knocking hers down. She walked back into the bedroom and was putting books on the bedside table when she knocked a frame off the nightstand. She heard it thud gently onto the carpet and picked it up. It was a woman, about her height, with kind brown eyes, brown hair, smiling standing next to Ray. She had her arms around his middle and an engagement ring glittered in the photo. Nora sucked in a breath. It was Anna.

She combed back through memories and factoids about Ray until she settled on one. Deathstroke had killed his fiancee in May not even four years ago… no it was four years ago… to the day. It was the anniversary of Anna’s death.

That’s what was wrong.

Nora wasn’t sure how to act being on the other side of things. She wasn’t sure the best way to approach him or if she should approach him. Maybe she should just let him sulk and be sad Ray Palmer for the day. Nora sat the frame gently back in its original place and continued unpacking her things. She walked back out into the living room to find Ray on the couch with takeout menus in front of him. She sat on his lap, trying to see if the affection would distract him and he wrapped an arm around her, smiling sadly.

“Hey… let’s order some Chinese and then we can watch a movie, okay? How about… Singin’ In the Rain?”

The prospect of watching his favorite movie with his favorite girl seemed to perk him up a bit. Ray nodded and called in their order.

Nora kissed the top of his head, sitting in his lap afforded her a height to do so, and carded a hand through his hair. Her boy needed a haircut. She liked that he was growing out to look less boyscout-ish but it was only getting unruly. The longer hair didn’t suit him as well as his shorter style. It was less Ray to her.

When they got their food, Nora queued up the TV to start their movie. Nora pulled out the thickest blanket she could find and draped it over both of them, something inside of her, knowing it was the anniversary of her boyfriend’s ex fiancee’s death, she wanted to protect Ray, his heart, and anything else to do with him and his feelings about today. She rested her head on his shoulder and started the movie.

They ate in silence as the movie played, Nora wanting so badly during the slower moments to broach the subject but she just couldn’t. They had shifted to sit only somewhat further apart and when Ray finished his food, twice her size as he may be, decided he wanted to lay his head in her lap. Nora had no problem with it. She carded her fingers through his hair absently and let him just lose himself in the movie, knowing that was probably more than she could do to help in that moment.

When the movie ended, Ray sat up and pulled Nora in for a hug. He squeezed her a lot tighter than she ever remembered him hugging her and she hugged him back. She couldn’t let him know she knew, she wanted him to tell her. He needed to be ready.

Nora watched him get up from the couch and throw their takeout boxes away. He muttered something about going for a run and that he would be back soon. Nora nodded and remained seated on the couch as she watched him disappear into their bedroom, come back out in sweats, and kiss her softly before heading out the door.

xxxx

She knew this went beyond any snooping she had ever done for a mission but she was just curious. It was four years ago but three of those years were taken up by being a Legend full time so who knows what she would find. She started with the chest of drawers, all his clothes, mostly workout and loungewear and undergarments. Next she moved onto the dresser and pulled open each drawer, trying to gauge if any of the belongings were Anna’s. She only got halfway through the dresser before she stopped. Something just felt wrong about this. She took in a deep breath, this would’ve been the place Anna and Ray would’ve started their lives, and probably had begun to before she died. Ray had probably attempted to change as much of he could without selling the place. There was no trace Anna, no ghost of her memory to find.

Ray had been gone for hours at this point and she was starting to get worried. The sun was starting to set and she hadn’t been in this city for over twenty years. Somewhere a very scared fourteen year old Nora Darhk had just been possessed by Mallus and even though she had met a very handsome knight and his team and tried to rescue her from her prison, she was still somewhere in this city, alone and afraid.

It was much like she felt now. She had never been the one to figure out how to break someone’s walls down and Ray was a seasoned pro at this point. She guessed that also meant he was an expert at putting them up. Nora looked out the window onto nightfall settling over Star City and sighed.

“Ray, where are you?”

She wasn’t sure how long she’d been standing there but she finally heard the door open and turned around. Ray. He didn’t look so good. Intoxicated? No. He’d be stumbling. High? No that wasn’t Ray at all. He just looked… broken.

Nora slowly approached him, not sure how much contact he wanted or needed.

“Ray?... Is everything alright?”

Ray simply shook his head. He sat down on the couch and Nora sat with him. She took one of his hands and stroked hair away from his face with the other.

“You said you were headed out for a jog, did something happen?”

“I shouldn’t have gone there.”

“What?”

“I shouldn’t have gone to the cemetery. It’s too soon.”

“Too soon for what? Talk to me.”

Ray shook his head. “It should’ve been me. I got away with just a couple of broken bones but she died. It should’ve been me, I was there protect her and I didn’t. I did the one thing I thought I was good at: protecting others.”

Nora stroked his hair. “You’re going to have to give me more context, sweetie, who is this about?”

“Her name… her name was Anna Loring… she was my fiancee. She died four years ago when Deathstroke attacked Star City. I got away with a broken leg but they… he just snapped her neck like she didn’t matter. But she did. She was the most important person in my life… I don’t… I don’t remember being this sad last year or even the year before… I don’t know why it’s hitting me so much this year…”

Nora shrugged. “I’m so sorry, Ray… I don’t know what to tell you. Before I could even really mourn my parents I was placed in protective services and told to forget about who I was before. I was Emily now and I was an orphan. It didn’t matter that my mom and dad had just died. So I had to lock it away. I didn’t deal with it for years. I think it’s okay to cry about this, she was important to you… you loved her and you were planning on spending the rest of your life with her. You don’t just get over that.”

Ray laid his head on Nora’s chest, the angle awkward because of his size, but Nora reclined into the couch to make it a bit easier. She continued to stroke his hair and took in deep breaths until his breathing was in sync with hers. She felt her shirt become wet and knew he was crying. She hummed quietly against the top of his head to let him know she was there.

“I know I’m probably bad at this since you’re the one with tons more experience at dealing with all of my junk but, I’m here for you, Ray… I’m sorry you lost her and know it’s okay to be sad about it. You can cry on me as much as you want, we can move to the bedroom if that’s more comfortable or we can stay right here. Whatever you want. I can make us tea or I can stay right here. You call the shots.”

Ray lifted his head up and reached to wipe away his tears but Nora caught his hands. She wiped the tears from his cheeks instead and reached for a tissue on the coffee table. She handed it to him and he smiled in thanks. He leaned in and kissed her softly and she smiled sadly as they pulled away.

“I think… I think that tea and staying here is what I want to do.”

Nora smiled. “I’ll get the kettle on.”

xxxx

They sat there in silence, both stirring their mugs to keep their mind focused on something. Ray hadn’t said much more but Nora knew to just let him be, give him the time he needed to reveal or not reveal whatever he felt comfortable with.

“Nora…?”

“Yeah, Ray?”

“Thank you… for… well… you were my rock tonight… this has been the hardest anniversary I’ve had. And I don’t think I would’ve gotten through it without you.” He took her hand. “Thank you, really, I mean it.”

“You have been there for so many things for me, Ray, I didn’t know exactly what you were struggling with but I could tell something was off. I just needed to make sure I made myself emotionally available. I can’t even begin to imagine how hard this is for you.”

“But your parents…”

“Died a long time ago and my dad died a hero the second time around. It’s… the same but different. I guess I know what you’re going through in the sense that I’ve lost people too, but I haven’t lost anyone that meant as much to me as Anna did to you.”

Ray squeezed her hand three times, “I don’t want you to think that because of what we have and what Anna and I had, they’re somehow in competition.”

Nora waved him off. “No, I could never think that. I know I can never replace Anna, I wouldn’t try to. She was probably very different from me and that helps me to know that I definitely could never replace her. I want whatever part in your life you’ll have me for.”

Ray pulled her closer and kissed her forehead. “Anna would want me to be happy… I think she would like you. You guys were very different yes, but I needed her for the part of my life between college and becoming the ATOM. But I need you for this part of my life. The part of my life that I hope is the rest of my life because I don’t want you to leave. You don’t just have a part in my life. You are my life.”

Nora leaned up and kissed him softly. “Let’s head to bed.”

Ray nodded and followed her wordlessly to the bedroom.

xxxx

Nora, now changed into a nightgown, was finishing up in the ensuite bathroom when she saw Ray come up behind her in the mirror. He was in pajamas too and wrapped his arm around her torso. Nora placed her hands on his forearm and rested her chin in the crook of his elbow.

“Hi.” She smiled, looking into his eyes through the mirror.

Ray buried his face into her neck and breathed her in. Trying to hold onto her impossibly tighter than before.

Nora let him hold her for a minute before turning in his arms and cupped his cheeks in her hands and kissed him softly. She broke away and tugged on his hand to follow her back into the bedroom. She noticed the picture of Anna had been moved to his nightstand and she got under the covers next to him. Nora picked up her book and began to read. She reached for Ray’s hand and squeezed his hands three time, glancing up at him. He leaned in to kiss her once more before laying down for the night, facing her, and keeping their hands clasped together.

[matchstickforyourmuse]

A fantasy prompt for 'green' plz?

Certainly! What a delightful request!(Only now, going back up to add this little response, do I realize that you asked for ‘a prompt’, and not a million. Oops.)I hope you like these. They’re a bit wordy- I got carried away. But they’re prompts nonetheless! If you would like some shorter, more to-the-point prompts without as much context-content, or whatever you want to call the lengthy bits of writing, pray tell! Or, if you just want more/less of one kind of prompt (more dialogue, less setting, etc.), or if you just want more prompts in general, I’d be happy to write you up a dozen more.

________

- - -‘Blood of Tree’, they called it. A swirling mass in a jar that bowed and dipped and swayed to some silent waltz, luminescent with some brilliant, strange force. It gushed about in oozy rivulets one moment, and then kept aloft the next in a foggy murmur of a cloud, and then it would sit on the bottom of the glass in shattered fractals, jagged and wickedly sharp. I always thought the name was silly. It deserved its own name. It didn’t need to be compared to anything. Heck, it couldn’t be compared to anything.

- - -“They aren’t pixies,” the troll whispered. Fear fluttered over his eyes like some maddened moth. “Just keep your trap shut, and we’ll get out of this alive.” And it was then that I saw one of the shrieking creatures. Wee claws curling around the stone corner, a hissing warble, followed by another mind-stabbing scream. Verdant scales and the coiled muscles of an adder, lanced through with voidish black, the intensity matched only by their eyes. Oh, the eyes….

- - -The dull thrum that came from the marsh was deafening for some, but a lullaby to others. I used to tell my kids that it was the tupelo trees singing. That, if they listened closely enough, they could hear the crickets and the frogs harmonizing to try to brighten their sepulchral melody, but to no avail. They mourned for the slow world, the one full of moss and jewelish dragonflies and sweet dreams. The one that had been replaced with smoke and spilled business and the bustle of aching feet. I told them that they just didn’t understand the change. And I told them that that was okay. Because none of us did, really. We just didn’t talk about it quite as often nor quite as loudly as they did.

- - -The elf’s sigh was explanation enough. But he clarified anyways. “Here, they can’t get us.” I looked around at the mismatched tables and chairs. The threadbare rugs mixed with the plush carpets and the faux-fur bathmats that had been shoved under stools so they wouldn’t scratch up the floors. The walls, covered in paintings and claw scores and hand-drawn pictures and toddler scribbles and one or two scorch marks from when they still had stoves. And then I looked at the people. Despite the circumstances, they were smiling. Despite what was out there, they looked…. They looked happy. Even the kids weren’t crying, despite the bandages being wrapped around their wounds, despite the acrid smell of the old candles. These…. These people. They were far from home. And, heck, they were with other species that, on any other given day, they probably would’ve been trying to rip the heads off of. But no. It was calm. And it was…. It was good. “Here,” he continued, with a trace of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, “we can heal.”

- - - “The creature will be the death of me,” the Lady sighed, delicately placing her elbow unto the table so she could properly lean her chin upon it. “He’s a genie, m'Lady,” a servant reminded, her voice choked with giggles. “He can’t kill.”They both turned their heads to the gaudy spirit, festooned in a garb of eye-straining greens and polished emeralds and parrot-feathers, his cape whirling as he turned on his heel to accept yet another noble’s quail-eating challenge. (They both had to duck to avoid being clobbered with his stein of ale.)“I know. I just wish I could kill him.” She cocked an eyebrow as she watched the grease and ginger-sauce in his beard simply whuhff away the moment it drizzled down. “He knows perfectly well what I wished for. But he’s just finding one loophole after another. I have half a mind to dismiss him.”“You wouldn’t…! I mean…. With all due respect, m'Lady! The genie is… an animal, surely. Riddled with crudity and a vile tongue. But what he’s brought to the courts surely outweighs the burden, m'Lady?”

- - -“You’re telling me you’ve never heard of Dragon’s Grog?” The vampire grinned, leaning against the wall as plumes of smoke lazed upwards to meet the haze of the city air. The neon sign above us flicked colorful shadows over his face. “Man, that’s not right. It’s perfect for everything. A night on the town. Weddings. Funerals. Parties. Any day that ends in a Y.” Somewhere in the distance, a Quik-O-Rail buzzed on its tracks. A single vwooiiiiif, and it was gone. He flashed his fangs once more before he slipped his headphones from around his neck up and over his ears. It seemed as though I could hear the blare of his electric, upbeat jam before he even hit ‘play’.

- - -“I’ll always remember the story of when the sea switched places with the moorlands,” my grandmother hummed, wiping her knife on the edge of the tablecloth. “Back when the pheasants and the rabbits slipped through the heather like fingers through hair. The breeze would tussle the grasses, and the flowers would dance reels with the mighty winds.” As she said this, she flipped the fish over and began cleaning the other side. I winced at the stench. “But sometimes, it was still. Absolutely, perfectly still. No rippling, no swaying, no nothing. Just… solace. Butterflies playing their strange little games, and sunbeams embracing the Earth. Birdsong was the only thing that broke the silence.”I smiled, and looked out the window. A chuckle escaped. The fields were roiling again, moving up and down as they swelled with the force of the Earth-tide. Even within the safety of the house, I could hear rocks grinding and turf ripping and mending itself back together, mounds of soil cascading and ebbing away until they were replaced with the dusky emerald of the surface-moor. Rabbits and pheasants running on that? And silence? It was a surreal notion. Now she was probably going to say that fish, somehow, swam on the ocean. I laughed again.

- - - It was more of a slime, now. Probably. She didn’t dare turn on the light, for the fear that it would bear some semblance to the moon… What a silly thought. Was she going mad? It didn’t work like that, it didn’t-…. No. No, there was no risking anything. She dipped the glass stirring-rod in the sludge again. Fizzing. Popping. But no shattering. Good, good. She picked up the flask, and squinted hard- had she used too much silver? It was more metallic than anything. It was supposed to be green. Venom-green. That’s what… That’s what it was supposed to be. Darn it all, she didn’t have the time for this! How late was it? She couldn’t just remake the whole bloody thing! A cure was a cure. It wasn’t art. It wasn’t supposed to be pretty. It was just supposed to work. This was it. This was what she had been waiting for. The consequences of impurity be cursed! Oh, Lycaon almighty! THIS WAS IT! Slamming her fist on the cold table, she threw her head back, and began to drink.

- - - The butterfly was made of pale, thin pieces of interlocked jade. Stiff wings clinked against one another as it fluttered clumsily about the office. But then freaking Steven just had to see it. Without missing a beat, he grabbed his miniature stapler, and lobbed it over his cubicle’s wall, hitting his target dead-on. Upon impact, the insect shattered, and a fine, glittering dust arose, only to be sucked up by the ceiling vents. “You’re a jerk,” someone cried from halfway across the room.

- - -The dinghy lurched upwards again. We could hear the cringe-worthy scrapes of her spines on the bottom of our boat, each moment annunciated by a sharp whump as one ended and the other started. Unbroken scales began rising to one side, and then the other… a terrible, sickening shade of seafoam that reminded me a little bit too much of home. “It’s been too long.” My old voice took a chance to appear before I could catch it.“You heard our call. You heard it thrice. And only now, seven years adrift, do you come to our aid.” Whatever the meaning behind the distorted shrieks that issued from the spray there was, I did not listen. I was far too gone to have cared. “Leave. Your excuses harbor nothing.”

- - - “What part of ‘He’s sleeping’ don’t you understand?” The little dryad looked up at her with a tearful snort. “You can’t… For goodness’ sakes. You can’t wake up a non-magical tree. It’s nothing to cry about. He’s not dead, he’s not ignoring you. He’s just sleeping.” Apparently, the explanation didn’t do much in terms of making things better. The creature rubbed vigorously at her eyes with a downturned wrist before leaping forward to wrap her short arms (the best she could) around the slender trunk of the birch tree. The racking sobs came a moment later. The woman sighed. “For the love of…. Just stop, okay? You’re being ridiculous.”

- - -The air was close here. Stitches of silence had been sewn into his tongue, and he dared not disturb the resting realm. The pines, as vigilant as ever, kissed the clouds with their crowns- or, rather, the other way around. He could not see their end. He could, however, see the clouds. The height of their trunks seemed to rival the length of a giant’s sprint. (The only that kept him from believing that he had fallen to the stature of a dormouse was the trace amount of ferns that crouched about the heaps of root. And even then….) After another mile had passed, the man sat down, swept his cloak about his legs, and slumped against his satchel. The daylight had taken a rather unexpected leave. With a twitch of his lips, he felt agog as he turned his eyes above. The man’s breath came slow and swift all at once. This was what he came for. To see this.The slate clouds had gone, replaced by a great, coarse mass of charcoal brown. It fell and rose in time, before it began away, the Earth trembling as it made for the horizon. Ever-so-slowly, day returned, slipping around the belly of the beast like water over a bowl. Less than ten feet away, the bone-shaking step of an ebony hoof fell. (It had to be twice as large as any inn he’d ever seen.) Of all of his years, this marked only the second time that he had seen one of the elk of the Foraoise Mhór.

~

[postapocalypse13]

sex as power (#MeToo)

Rape is a political statement. It says: "I am everything. You are nothing." God of Sky and Rain Women hold up half the sky? In His world women hold up the sky. Men sit around, masturbate, watch football, occasionally, go out and rape lowering that small part of the sky. Rose Red I am prickly, admittedly. I come by it rightly. Organically evolved defensive weapon (note, no offensive weapon attached). You must approach me with care. Feel the velvet of my vibrant leaves, gently. My flower, radiant in grace and wonder. Musical poetry wafting, my enchanted perfume calling for the discerning touch. But grasp too hard, too clumsily, without reflection, a thousand tiny cuts push you far away. In no time, you will heal, leaving me to bleed forever, attempting to clear from my system your poisonous residue. Bitter Dregs You don't get it. You don't want to. It would be too much to bear if you let your thought go there. Briefly unconscious, awakened to hard concrete ground surrounded by heels and toes, amazing they don't crush me, but no, like clockstep they walk around though occasionally a(n unmeaning?) shove -- I'm not a someone, just a minor obstacle unnoted in their busy day. No worries. Not like shoved down under hard muscle, jutting bone, stinking of beer and rage; or waking from too brief oblivion, broken pain, bleeding tears, torn, bruised, a colorful toy made for pleasure. Then the voices, echoes. Harpies and Sirens, Furies and sad old women. Fingers shake in disapprobation. Shrill voices call me beautiful, in the way that ugly things are. So bad, so pitiful, cardinal status among the neverweres. Struggling shadows, whispering curses demurely lest anyone notice and throw them further down, below duration. Never easy, confessing degradation. The sin adheres. No one wants to know. logic of rape culture I don't know. Would it be morally acceptable to destroy a person's mind while they sleep, because they'll never know they had one? Would it be morally just fine to cruelly use people's lives while keeping them unconscious without consent or prior knowledge, because unexplained pain won’t rise to legal proof? Is there value placed on personal integrity? Must boundaries that make individual beings complete with self-control, define a zone of self to be respected? Do conscious beings own a right to privacy, a zone of personal integrity, sacred space for self-discovery: “This is mine. This is me.” When we choose to agree for common utility, what inner prize do we remember to defend? Or do we prefer to behave as a bunch of random beasts, subject to convenient moral rules, precepts to defend hierarchy of self-proclaimed reasonable men? I am beginning to think that this whole anti-abortion, anti-contraception idea is about rapists who want to impregnate their victims and then have access to torture them for life. Mighty big hate on. Dazzling glitter of star light is doing its job: distract and divide while they rape, kill and rob. Ascending spiraled steps in hope of eventually reaching a solid surface, more a chore than a mission as we continue inexorably day by day. Or is that eternity by eternity? There's not much choice, as these stairs, though solid and seemingly endless, do not provide enough solidity, enough surface, for other sustained activity. There is not even room to climb by twos, thus enabling the solace of close companionship. Certainly there is no room to make love between, stair to stair, to find what respite or pleasure such loving might provide. Perhaps for some of the more daring an occasional rearguard rape may be accomplished, coming from behind as it were, never seeing the face of the victim, so that's alright. A temporary digression from the rote work, hand over hand, leg up and leg up, monotonous unfulfilling dance. The land, when we found her was warm and inviting. We felt safe, supported, encouraged to grow. We ate of her fruit, fish, herds. We built with her trees, stone and clay. We drank from her beautiful streams which we soiled with our waste. Gaea was saviour and womb. We repaid her with rape. We didn't understand, thought her merely land, thought ourselves masters from afar. Perhaps it is not so much a war on women as another front in the war on people with lesser means. I mean, how dare a woman be raped if she can't afford her own treatment? Women are raped by husbands, strangers, dates, bosses, family members, often seriously injured or killed in the process. Implying we have nothing more serious to protest about than "glass ceilings" is a macabre insult. Small girlchild, rags and dust – follow her morning of traverse, this tiny world allowed. Each tent flap reveals fester of wounds deep and shallow, ravage disease. Senses, thought, subsumed to beat of breath outside rational context. Stuck in the dirt, her worth a hole where she bottoms out, tributary blood expelled. It could be rape; it could be terrifying violence. But you got it wrong. You blamed yourself. And the reasons you got it wrong go back to that world, not to you. Cross Purpose At time's crossroads, Reason drowns in rage, pain, radiated rain, treasonous air. Weary of care, of punishing, bottomless anger, of sobbing men robbed of their right to give birth. Taken from Mama's warmth, from the cave, to play brave. And it's ladies' choice as you squirm in fool's corner. Such a chore -- kissing at this and that for a chance to score the shame, the blame from stuck-out tongues, the bloody laughter "I could bite off that little thing -- make you squat to pee." Wired to fight, at any cost, because, of course, the Cross proclaims "We're right. They are inherently wrong." "Those below must be taught to obey our superior tools, to be broken, that we may ride." Against our better fate, our race divided along strict lines, by difference nature instilled to make us strong Our Gang Outrage Depression facing outward Taking power to give it away. This entrained impulse See them crackling, jangling puppets at puppy play, bite, bark, entangle, grab and tussle, growl, muscle in for the kill. Bloodlust arousal. Natural as puke, as death, violation as violent orgy violation as ecstatic initiation to the brotherhood. Life elevated to dreams, goals, careful weighing of coin and hours, dependable plans, actions that honor can favor, love, duty, allegiance to the rules of sanity and kind regard have no purpose here. Men of blood and battle fluid need no fine speeches, no valor -- only food and receptacles for their waste. Capital Crime Sweet old daddy Doing his will in the night Keeping the mamas afright for the plight of each beloved child, so tender so young He really oughta be hung! so say the neighbors, clicking their tongues Take him to the magistrate Fill his ears with the voice of hate while he's tied, defanged, prostrate Let our will be done! Tie him down in a prison cell Make him feel the wrath of Hell 'til we all are bloody well exhausted of our fun. No need to delete old daddy sweeping shit and burning bones any toil we deem atones to repay society's loans of wicked sowing days assuring he damn well pays for the pain and loss his wicked ways marred our happy homes. Trial It was said, everyone knew, some whispered in my presence, that I was born a bastard of rape. My mother, a pious maiden, in penance gave me into servitude to the Brotherhood. Thus she was allowed to return to her Sisterhood’s life of humble ministration. I never knew her, or have no memory of such an early time in my life. I knew nothing of the treasured childhood that comes with family. I was a low thing, circumscribed by duty. I was educated, taught to read, write, do sums, memorize long passages of scripture, sing in the Holy Choir, take my part in ceremonies, taught for useful service. I was taught to please my masters as my only worth. Any modification to please their plans was my sacred duty to undergo. Any master. Any metamorphosis. Any mutilation. Accept. When he bit me, as the fast-acting soporific emitted from his fangs entered my artery, I hoped this was my end. It wasn’t. He did not drain me, but woke me to force his blood into my sagging mouth to remake me in his image: immortal, powerful, supernatural, outside of the laws of man. I learn to create my own sacred place, free of duty, free of the yoke of belief. I am my own silent sanctuary beyond the touch, the reach of their world. What good am I, have I, what good does it do me to have a conscious me apart from my puppet role, plaything of powerful forces and men? Perhaps after all the trials of my journey, it is enough to have a consciousness that knows me so well and feels a kind of comforting love. Perhaps the kind of love a mother feels for a child she never wanted, who is yet of her, a companion to her trials. They arrive, enter a door next to a large glass window decorated in bright colored paint. It is a portrayal of a man on a cross. Bloody red holes mar his hands and feet. A thorny green crown sits on his head. Inside are cakes and hot black drinks on a short table. A few others are also eating and drinking. On the floor, next to a large, tattered chair, a woman sits, rocks, dirty and worn looking. Her shaking hands make attempts to feed coffee to her lips, but more is spilled on her worn and spattered dress. She has been mumbling incoherently. She is getting louder. Renata starts to make out words. "They fill yer belly with their babies. No more babies. They hurt and make me so sick. The men, they fill me with their nasty liquid babies. They make them grow in me, take over my body, make me sick, and cut so hard to get out. I won't take them, horrid demons. So they throw me back in the street for the men to fill me again, hurt me again. It hurts, it hurts, it hurts. No more babies. No more pumping out their nasty babies. I won't. I won't go there. You can't make me leave." She burbles, gasps, cries, mumbles, and repeats her litany. She rocks her body, suckles on her fingers and strands of long, lank hair. She seems in a trance, perhaps poisoned, perhaps cursed. From further back in the room, a man dressed in black, prominently carrying a black book, approaches the group around the table. "Don't mind Betty. She's a hard case. We can't find anywhere that will take her." He seems perturbed by this inconvenience, embarrassed by this woman's plaint. Thoughts of keeping still while learning how to blend in have flown from Renata's mind. She goes quickly, yet with gentle motion, to sit beside this Betty. Close up, she is surprised to see this woman is young, certainly no longer a child, but not the old used up hag she had appeared to be. Her burbling snot and tears mixed with spilled coffee and older stains make her an unappetizing sight. Yet, there is something so fragile, so sad and affecting in her defiantly defeated form, Renata can not help but reach out her arms to comfort. Nobody likes to talk about Betty; but you can bet we cream over her (secretly, all cozy in our beds, in our heads and groins). Nobody likes to admit what casual cruelty we are capable of. Gang-raping children because we can doesn't appeal to our desired self-image. Her mother allowed it in exchange for food, a place to sleep, the blessed drugs to keep away the pain of knowing the endless, hopeless misery life had become. Or, she was alone on that dark street, lost and frightened, with nowhere safe to go, no one protecting her just then. Her sexuality tempted me, in all that frenzy of bonding blood cries, heightened primal energies, hot insistent bodies falling under ritual spell. She is but a sacrifice, a holding cell for sin. There is no freedom for will to grow within her, only unwanted, tainted seed, thrust outward from the nauseous collective psyche to poison her potential. Does she need to be defined by what has been done against her nascent will? Is there salvation in finding a slim, hiding, healthy cutting from her core, carefully planted and watered in hallow grounding? And what of all those other sacrificial lambs? What cosmically sympathetic vibration can be turned to healing, calling forth a will to grow whole, to become one's own desired destiny? Mothers' Night cascading shards uneasy echoes falling "It's our calling." Rape of Earth, hot spurts of words savage knives Abiding Mothers, sacred and mundane twist into harridan cold stars wail, hurtling waves Sad, old, crust of ages sliced, screwed, carved up for profit "It's not the color of the skin, the culture of the smile" the scent of danger, the inborn stranger -- all excuses for Us (superior) and Them (inferior) "They are not like we; but lower curs." we may harm with unfettered glee Cursed to be cut to our requirement. Borders clear "Here, fear fences in our livelihood and wives." Leave THEM to putrid pits cunning jabs, our pleasure. Thus, all treasure that might regale, heal, reveal true worth, of man and Earth sold for pittance of potash to dance a weary jig Post-trauma A child of my own rape, it shaped me, made me less and more Memories stored, to when I can't go on implore: "You'll feel better when you're gone."

[dietarysalad]

Street War – Chapter 10

“Hey, Gin-chan?” Kagura asked once she had arrived home from the hospital and had made herself comfortable on the couch in their living room area.

“Hm?” Gintoki murmured his reply, his eyes focused on the television screen in front of him. “Who’s ‘Okita Mitsuba’?” At his daughter’s words, Gintoki’s ears perked up a little. “Hm? And how do you know that name?” he interrogated. “Well, you know that boy I helped over to the hospital the other day?” “Yeah?” “His room’s right next to an ‘Okita Mitsuba’. The Sadist was looking at the room all weird, so I was wondering who it was…”

Gintoki gave his daughter a conflicted look before grabbing the remote and flicking the television off. He turned towards her on the couch and watched as she hugged her legs to her chest, her chin resting on her knees. So even Kagura knows how to be respectful, sometimes. “Hm, well,” Gintoki began. “Do you remember a couple years back? When the Shinsengumi suddenly stopped trying to start fights with us?”

Kagura remembered. At the time, the Yorozuya had been in a state of confusion, unsure as to exactly what had happened to make the normally full-of-fight Hijikata Toshiro stop his challenges against the Yorozuya. Without any street brawls, Kagura could only watch as the majority of the Yorozuya began to grow restless, their usual routine broken without any warning. Takasugi, Sakamoto and Katsura, however, were strangely calm – as was Gintoki. Kagura was not entirely sure as to what was going on, herself, but she knew that it must not have been something that she needed to worry about if Gintoki did not seem to pay it too much mind.

“Yeah, I remember,” stated Kagura. “The mayo-freak disappeared for about a month, right?” “Right,” confirmed Gintoki. “He sent me a letter the day before, telling me that one of the Okita siblings that had joined the Shinsengumi was being admitted to hospital. I’m not too sure on the specifics, but it seemed pretty serious.” He paused and, after awkwardly scratching the nape of his neck, continued. “And, well. I’m not too big on the gang wars, myself,” he sighed. “It’s a good way to let off some steam, but Hijikata is the one instigating them anyways. It seemed like a nice holiday for a while, so I just let it be.”

Like an old man at the end of a long day, Gintoki leaned back in his seat and drawled out a long sigh. “Then, a month later,” he breathed out. “Hijikata called for another brawl as if nothing had happened. Soon, I just forgot about it – I figured whoever had been admitted to hospital must have gotten better. I guess not.” Kagura shifted uncomfortably in her seat, her top teeth gnawing slightly on her exposed knees. “So, Okita Mitsuba is the Sadist’s…?” she hesitantly asked. “Yeah, older sister,” answered Gintoki, ruffling his daughter’s untied hair. “Like how I picked up you and Kamui, Hijikata picked up Okita Mitsuba and Okita Sougo, and invited them into the Shinsengumi.”

At the lack of a reaction, Gintoki looked down to his right side to study Kagura’s face. His eyes softened at her troubled expression. She usually doesn’t think deeply like this. He stood up carefully and, in almost no time at all, his seat was taken by Sadaharu. The gigantic canine cuddled against his owner’s side, attempting to cheer her up. A small smile graced Kagura’s face as she combed her fingers through Sadaharu’s immaculate fur.

Before he left, Gintoki asked Kagura but a single question. “Why do you seem to care so much, anyway?” he threw at her, before walking back to the kitchen to find himself a snack. Kagura watched his back as he walked away from the living area, her eyes widening in realisation. Her lip twitched. Why do I care so much about that Shinsengumi? Peeling herself off the couch, Kagura walked off to her room and flopped onto her bed, falling asleep almost immediately as Sadaharu hopped into bed and snuggled beside her.

I’ve been thinking too much today – time to let the brain rest.

The weekend eventually came, though not soon enough in Kagura’s opinion. She woke up at the crack of one o’clock in the afternoon, and mentally congratulated herself for waking up so early on a Saturday. After brushing her teeth, washing her face, and deeming her hair clean enough to not need a wash that morning, Kagura dashed over to her wardrobe to find something clean to wear. It was one of those rare days that Gintoki would come into her room and launder all the clothes she had thrown into her ‘floordrobe’ and ‘chairdrobe’, and sometimes even her ‘bedrobe’.

After settling on a white, cat-eared hoodie and a pair of black, skinny jeans, Kagura skipped out of the apartment. On the way out, she assured Gintoki that she would be home in time for dinner – to which she received a lazy wave and a loud snore from the direction of the couch. Upon slipping her high-top sneakers on, Kagura steadily began to jog in the direction of Oedo Hospital, having promised to meet with Hongou again that weekend after visiting him throughout the school week.

“Oh, wow, Kagura-chan!” Hongou exclaimed. “You and Soyo-san really have a talent!” In his hands, Hongou held a stack of developed photographs – taken, courtesy of Kagura and Soyo. He eagerly flicked through them, holding each image close to his heart and running his eyes over them again and again as if they were his own memories. “You like ‘em?” Kagura grinned. “Soyo-chan and I wanted to take some pictures for you. You’re always here in this drab hospital room – you must get tired of all this white and grey, yes? So we went out and took heaps of pictures for you! You can take a look at these if you ever get tired of your books and this room.”

Hongou grinned, looking back down at the images that he held in his hands. He marvelled at the beauty of the cherry blossoms; he fawned over Sadaharu’s cuteness; he laughed at the silliness of Kagura’s and Soyo’s funny faces. All the while, Kagura watched from his bedside as Hongou’s expressions shifted to and fro. Though she enjoyed visiting him just to make sure that he was well and healthy, what she loved the most about seeing Hongou was the pure delight that he would have towards the things she would bring from outside the hospital. He had amusing reactions to just about anything, and Kagura enjoyed watching him look so happy. She felt like she was making up for letting him get hurt, despite the fact that Hongou had repeatedly assured her that she was not at all at fault.

As Hongou continued flipping through the photos, his eyes lingered on one of her and Sougo locked in mid-fight. Kagura noticed his expression change and peered over his shoulder at the image, her eyes narrowing upon sight. “Soyo-chan must’ve taken that one,” she grumbled. “The Sadist was being particularly annoying that day. Hm, if you ignore him, though, I think I look pretty good in this photo.” While Kagura continued to admire her fighting form, Hongou turned back to the photo and focused his eyes onto Sougo’s expression. He had known the older boy for a long time and knew that it was scarcely ever that a smile ever graced his face. Unless, of course, his older sister was involved. It made Hongou happy to see such a light expression on Sougo’s face, despite the violent context of the photo.

“Hey, Kagura-chan?” asked Hongou as he set the photos aside on his bedside table. “Yeah?” replied Kagura. “Can I ask why the Yorozuya and the Shinsengumi are always having those street fights? I’ve asked Okita-san before, but he said something strange about there being some conflict over… mayonnaise?” “Ah, well, for once the Sadist isn’t lying.” “Eh?”

Kagura sighed and leant back in her chair, crossing her arms behind her neck as a brace. “It’s a long story,” she began, gazing up at the ceiling. “But, well, the Shinsengumi boss is a mayo-freak, you see. He loves mayonnaise more than anything in the world. Apparently, in high school, the Yorozuya boss – my boss – ended up spilling some mayonnaise by accident during a lunch break or something. At the time, the two already had their own followings of some high school misfits. After the incident, more and more people began joining the Yorozuya and the Shinsengumi to duke it out with one another. To be honest, at this point I don’t think the fights are over mayonnaise anymore. It’s more of a way for our two gangs to go wild – we’re free to go all out.”

“Is that so?” wondered Hongou. “But, both of your gangs… You guys do good things for the community, right? The Yorozuya help out with odd jobs, and the Shinsengumi work as volunteers. I don’t see why you guys hate each other so much.” “Well, I’m not too sure about the rest of the group,” Kagura said as she turned back to Hongou. “But I would think that they have the same reasons as me. You see, it’s more fun to fight another team if you have some reason to hate their guts. There’s more passion – everyone feels the need to go all out. I’m sure some people aren’t even sure about the whole mayonnaise story – they just want a place to belong, a family to fight together with. The Sadist, too.” Kagura shook her head, as if she was utterly disgusted with herself to even be speaking about her hated rival. “He’s an idiot, but he’s strong,” she stated, and that was about as close to a compliment as she would likely ever give to the youngest Shinsengumi. “Because he’s got a place to belong to and a family to fight for.”

As he listened on, Hongou clenched his fists underneath the bedsheets. His eyes glittered with determination as he redirected his eyes back to the photographs that lied on his bedside table. This is the world through the eyes of someone who is strong. He took a deep breath in. This is the world through the eyes of someone who can fight. Releasing his clenched fists, Hongou turned back to Kagura. “You… Do you think I could be strong like that, someday?” he stated, the words feeling foreign on his tongue. Kagura tilted her head at him. “Hm?” she grinned. “Of course! That’s why you’ve gotta get better quickly. Then, you can join the Yorozuya and help me kick the Sadist’s butt!”

The two began to laugh. “Well,” Hongou began. “I don’t think I could go against Okita-san, but I’ll try my best!” Kagura stood up, taking a quick glance at the clock that hung up on the wall, and made a disappointed expression at Hongou. “Visiting hours are almost over,” she murmured. “I’d better get going. The next time I’m free, I’ll come and see you again, okay?” “Yeah, sure!”

After cheerfully waving at Hongou, Kagura stepped out of the hospital room and closed the door behind her. When he heard the door click back into place, Hongou reached beneath his pillow and pulled out his book, opening it again to reveal a familiar, grey hoodie string. It had continued fraying, and most of it was now a mess of thread. He grasped onto it carefully with both hands and closed his eyes. I’ll get better. Quickly. Then, with Okita-san and Kagura-chan, I’ll be able to get stronger, too.

As Kagura left Hongou’s room, she came face to face with Sougo who was coincidentally leaving Mitsuba’s room at the same time. Upon seeing Kagura, he froze. Confused as to why her brother had paused during his exit of her room, Okita Mitsuba spoke up. “What’s wrong, Sou-chan?” she called, startling Sougo into action. However, before he could cover his sister’s line of vision, she had caught sight of Kagura.

“Oh, who’s the cute girl?” she cooed, leaning to the right of her hospital bed to get a better look at Kagura. Without much of a choice, Sougo grabbed Kagura’s wrist and pulled the struggling girl into Mitsuba’s room, muffling her cries of protest against his shoulder. “An underclassman from Gintama High,” he said, sweetly. “She became friends with Hongou-kun, so that’s how I know her.” He beamed a smile of abnormal proportions at his sister, and Kagura could only look on in shock and a little bit of disgust.

“Sadist, what the hell?” she asked, unbelieving of the sight before her eyes. “’Sadist’…?” repeated Mitsuba, her head tilted in confusion. Upon his sister’s questioning gaze, Sougo tightened his grip on Kagura’s wrist. “Ah, she’s a foreigner so a couple of words she isn’t too sure about,” Sougo quickly covered. “You meant ‘senpai’, right?” Kagura gave him a strange look, tugging her hand from his grip to no apparent avail. “Ah? What are you-?” But, before she could finish, Sougo shot her the scariest and most evil side-eye she had ever experienced. A little shaken, Kagura stopped tugging her left arm away and turned back to Mitsuba. “O-oh, yeah!” she squeaked out enthusiastically. “Okita-senpai, right!”

Mitsuba gave Kagura a gentle smile. “Ah, well it is nice to meet you,” she chuckled. “My name is Okita Mitsuba, and I’m Sou-chan’s older sister. And you would be…?” “Oh,” Kagura stood up a little straighter. “Sakata Kagura – nice ta meetcha.” A quick elbow to the side from Sougo, and Kagura quickly spoke again. “I mean, pleased to make your acquaintance.” “Yes, it’s nice to meet you too, Sakata Kagura-chan,” Mitsuba stated.

Hm? Mitsuba blinked in surprise. “Eh?” she spoke. “Wait, ‘Sakata’?” At the sound of her father’s surname, Kagura began to panic. She had completely forgotten that the kind, gentle-looking Okita Mitsuba was a member of the Shinsengumi. Unsure as to how she should act – whether or not she should put up a pretence of hatred against this frail-looking woman – Kagura shied away from Mitsuba’s bed and towards the door. The only thing stopping her from leaving was Sougo’s hand, still wrapped firmly around her wrist.

Instead, Kagura could only fidget with the hem of her hoodie, awaiting the lashing that she would expect from any other member of the Shinsengumi. “Oh, how cute!” Mitsuba exclaimed, placing her palms against her cheeks in excitement. “Are the Yorozuya and Shinsengumi making friends, now?” Kagura looked up in confusion. Friends? “Um, not really?” she hesitantly stated. “There are still fights, like, every week or so.” Mitsuba’s expression dropped, her eyes showing pure disappointment. “Oh… I see.”

Menacingly, Sougo pulled on Kagura’s arm. She swallowed in response. “But, well, I mean – there aren’t as many fights as there used to be, and-” Kagura finally managed to yank her arm free from Sougo’s grip and promptly smacked him on the back as hard as she could under the pretence of being amiable. “-we’ve at least got a good classmate relationship going!” Kagura shot Mitsuba a wonky grin, trying to make a show of good will, as Sougo glared at her from the corner of his eye.

“Oh! Is that so?” Mitsuba’s face lit up. “Then, if you two get married, will the two groups end up merging together?” Kagura and Sougo stiffened. As quickly as he could manage, Sougo wracked his brain to say something to allow them to escape. “Uh, sis’?” he stuttered. “I think visiting hours are about to end, so I’ll escort her out now, okay? I’ll see you next time I’m free.”

Awkwardly, Sougo quickly bowed to his sister and turned to leave. Kagura also bobbed her head a little in respect, and followed Sougo out of the hospital room. Inside, Mitsuba giggled. It’s so fun to mess with him. Then, she sighed. Though I really do wish that Toshiro-san and the Yorozuya boss would stop all this fighting. I get the thrill factor, but it isn’t a good way to be relieving their stress.

Stepping out of the hospital with Sougo, Kagura squinted at the red-orange glow of the sunset. She opened her mouth to speak, but was immediately hushed by Sougo’s glare in her direction. “Don’t tell anyone about what you saw in the hospital,” he growled, standing close to Kagura so that he was able to take full advantage of their height difference to look down at her. “Hah?” came Kagura’s guttural reply. “And why should I listen to what it is that you have to say? I’m Yorozuya, remember?” Sougo scoffed. “Listen,” he began. “My sister is terminal, okay? At least have her privacy and peace, before…” Kagura hesitated at his words, shrinking away at his intimidating figure looming over her. “And I don’t want your pity, either,” he sighed. “Just stay out of our way and everything will be fine.”

Kagura said nothing, her mind flickering back to her own parents who were no longer on this Earth, and her heart went out to Sougo for a short moment. However, as soon as the feeling came, she forced it away again. I can’t be growing soft on these Shinsengumi dogs. His sister is another matter – just because I’m being mindful of her does not mean I will cut him any slack. Without another word, Kagura turned from Sougo and began her trek home to her apartment.

Though he was a little surprised at Kagura’s lack of response, Sougo paid it no mind. He also began to walk back to the apartment that he shared with Hijikata when a nurse rushed out to the hospital entranceway, almost crashing into him. “Sir, it’s an emergency!” she exclaimed. “Please head over to the emergency room, right now.” Sougo’s face paled, his brain failing to function as the nurse began to explain the situation to him. Slowly and mechanically, his body started to move into action and he allowed his muscles to take him to the emergency room. Only a single thought raced through his mind.

Sis…?

Author’s Note

Um, I’m sorry if you don’t know what I mean by ‘floordrobe’ and ‘chairdrobe’ and ‘bedrobe’. Like, a wardrobe. But you chuck your clothes on the floor or on that one chair in your room. Sometimes on the half of your bed that you don’t sleep in. Come on, it can’t just be me.

Once again, this chapter might be a little longer than usual. It’s because I had planned for this one to be two separate chapters, but I thought it might be better for them to be together.