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lightsovermonaco · 3 years

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His Good Sweater: Chapter 13

Masterlist

Thanks to @acollectionofficsandshit for being my bestie and beta reading! This would have never happened without her ❤ Make sure you read Roman Profile, set in the same universe!

Word Count: 6.7k

Recommended song: "Cupid’s Chokehold/Breakfast in America” by Gym Class Heroes

"I have to go."

"Can't you stay five more minutes?"

"I wish."

"Come on, just a few more minutes to cuddle." Pierre flings back the fluffy duvet and holds out a hand. "Please?"

"I have an exam," you say with a sigh but bend to press a kiss to his upturned palm. "I can't skip."

Pierre groans and slings an arm over his eyes. "What am I supposed to do all day?"

"I don't have a sim but I have an old PlayStation you're more than welcome to use. I think I still have one or two games."

"That won't keep me busy."

"I'm sure you'll find something. Just stay out of trouble okay? I'd like to get my security deposit back when I finally move out of this hellhole."

"Okay," Pierre grumbles, sitting up to give you a quick kiss. "What time are you getting back?"

"Four. We can go out to dinner or something." You smooth a hand over his hair, smiling lightly. "Or we can go for a picnic and take a walk through Saint James Park."

"Sounds like a plan." He turns his head to kiss your palm. "I'll be counting down the minutes."

You roll your eyes but your smile contradicts the sass. "I'll be home before you know it. Love you, champion."

"I love you too, mon coeur."

He was endlessly grateful for how easily the two of you had fallen back into each other. When he had shown up at your doorstep he had expected there to be awkward pauses and minutes of tense silence, but there had been blissfully little of either. As the days bleed into each other, your relationship only gets steadier, closer and closer to what it used to be. Maybe it was because you had been the one to break the silence or maybe it was because he had thrown himself into his career into someone's bed- whatever the reason, it didn’t matter. He was simply grateful to be welcomed back into your life. He didn't plan on leaving any time soon.

Pierre allows himself a half hour of lounging in bed before forcing himself to get up and shower. Off weeks were hard; all he wanted to do was rest and recharge but he still had to follow his workout regimen and sleep schedule or he risked falling out of the habit, making it that much harder to get back in the groove come race week.

First order of business: clean the clutter you had shoved in closets and the spare room prior to his arrival the day before. Folding the three baskets of clean laundry took an hour, washing dishes another thirty minutes, and vacuuming the entire flat took twenty. Once the counters are spotless and there isn’t a stray sock to be found, he takes stock of your pantry and notes what staples you were running low on.

Two hours later he trudges back up the three flights of stairs to your apartment, arms laden with reusable bags packed to the gills with food. His legs burn and he's slightly winded from the excursion; at least that could count as his work out for the day.

He's just about to start slicing vegetables for dinner when his phone chimes with a text from his PR agent, Sylvie.

You're supposed to be in an interview now. Where are you?

"Oh shit." He scrambles for his laptop which of course was dead. He manages to plug it in at the dining room table and angle it so the background is mostly neutral, just a band poster framed behind him. He checks his hair before logging into the interview.

"There's the star," the interviewer says, far too chipper to be entirely genuine.

"Sorry, I was having connection issues." He queues up his signature sweetheart smile that gets him out of any squabbles. It works, the woman's irritation melting into a more easy expression.

"Let's just get right into it. Since we're low on time I'll jump right in, if you don't mind."

Pierre leans back. He had an inkling where this was headed. "By all means, please."

"We just saw news of your deal with Christian Horner- if you take seventh in this year's drivers championship, it looks like you're at Red Bull Racing next year. How does that feel after being publicly demoted mid-season in 2019?"

A smirk tugs at Pierre's lips. He had known this exact question was coming. He had debated how to answer it without starting waves and still remaining truthful. If there was one thing he prided himself on, it was his ability to be diplomatic when others may have let their egos get in the way.

"Obviously I'm grateful that Red Bull has recognized the hard work I've been putting in at Alpha Tauri," he starts. "I think I've been able to push the car as far as I can but I still have pace in me, personally. So moving into the Red Bull would let me loose, so to speak, and give me a chance to prove that Red Bull is where I belong."

"Right, you have had quite a spectacular season so far with a race win under your belt and a few podiums for good measure. What do you attribute that success to? Why is it so different now in an Alpha Tauri versus that coveted second Red Bull seat?"

Pierre purses his lips. The answer he was expected to give wasn't one he was willing to voice. Instead he opts for neutral. "I've been able to focus and hone my driving this season. I've found a groove that works for me and with it has come an insane amount of confidence, which is something I struggled with for awhile after going back to Torro Rosso. I think it's really just that I'm finally comfortable in the car and with my team and that makes a huge difference."

"Thank you for that," the journalist says and Pierre nods. "Shifting gears, I have a few questions about your personal life if you don't mind."

This was the part he always dreads. Questions were often prying and he had to subtly skirt around them in a way that offered a satisfying answer without giving away too much. It was an art he liked to think he had perfected over the years but still didn't enjoy.

"As long as you don't mind me staying silent if I don't want to answer."

The woman laughs, the sound sharp and grating. "Of course. Unless I can bribe you into giving me an exclusive."

"Likely not. But you ask the right questions and we'll see."

"You've been seen hanging around a certain London neighborhood lately- that wouldn't have anything to do with you and your lovely lady, would it?"

He had been waiting for that one, too. When the two of you had returned from Red Bull headquarters he had noticed the man taking pictures across the street. He hadn't said anything to you at the time because really, there was no point in getting you worked up when he had a plan to handle it.

The question played right into his hand, in fact.

Pierre sits forward, folding his hands in front of him. "Actually yes. We recently got back together and if you'll let me, I would like to make a request."

The woman leans back and checks her notes. "Well it's not quite what I had planned but please," she gives a flourish with a hand, "you have the floor."

"I know driver's personal lives are something that a lot of people are interested in and that's great. I don't mind sharing things with my fans or letting them get the inside scoop, but there's some things I would rather be left alone. My relationship is one of them. I know you all took note that she hasn't been around the past couple months and if I'm being honest, it's because of comments and press coverage that invaded her privacy. I think some people forgot she was more than just a name on a screen."

Pen poised to take notes, the interviewer prompts, "You said you had a request?"

He doesn’t stop to assess the damage he had already undoubtedly done. Sylvie was probably already on the phone doing damage control with every news outlet she could get her hands on, if her muted and black square at the bottom of the screen was an indication.

"All I'm asking is that you leave her alone. If you have questions or comments you have to make, just direct them at me. Don't follow her around asking about me. Don't comment on her posts unless you're capable of being a decent human. Just… let her live her life in peace."

Maybe he was a love sick fool, but honestly he didn't care if he lost some support from fans. If they had such strong opinions on his personal life, he would be better off without them anyway. And his team could cut him and even if he was unable to secure a seat in Formula 1 after next season, he would survive.

But if he lost you again, he would be broken. It had taken being apart from you for him to realize it and he'd be damned if he was ever disconnected from you like that again.

"That's quite the speech."

Pierre shrugs. "It was. She's the most important thing in my life, right up there with racing.” Now that he had started down the road of truth, he found it impossible to hold his tongue. “I lost her once because people couldn't be bothered to remember that their words have consequences. I won't let it happen again."

"So you see yourself with her for a long time then?" The woman's eyes glitter with the potential of getting an even juicer tidbit from him.

Pierre’s jaw sets, muscles feathering. "That's not something I'm prepared to discuss."

The woman purses her lips and tips her head to the side. There was clearly more she wanted to say. "Well, I have to thank you for what you've given me here. My boss is gonna love the exclusive. I won't push any further. Thanks for your comments, Pierre."

"Thanks for actually being respectful."

“We aren’t all monsters.” The woman shrugs. “I can’t say I haven’t had my moments but I try to be straightforward.”

“Right, yeah. I get that you have a job to do.”

“Anyway. I look forward to seeing what you can do the rest of this season. Good luck.”

He signs off and instantly anxiety washes over him. If she twisted his words he was screwed. Sylvie would be on the phone as soon as the article was printed, no doubt trying to soothe sponsors and investors. She'd give him an earful about being respectful and not poking the bear but he'd tune it out like he always did.

The sooner he got away from Red Bull, the better.

Instead of dwelling on it he busies himself with cooking. It was one of his guilty pleasures. He always requested a full kitchen when he was staying anywhere more than a few days so that if he had the chance to make a home-cooked meal, he had the option. For tonight he had selected his favorite recipe. Parmesan-Cesar chicken wasn't normally something you would ever touch with a ten foot pole but as long as he was making it, Pierre knew you'd at least give it a try.

Music blasting in the background, Pierre sings along quietly as he unpacks the rest of the ingredients and gets to work. He does a little spin between the island and the sink, rinsing the dishes and putting them right in the dishwasher as he uses them. A clean kitchen is the mark of a great chef, his mom had told him, drilling the phrase into him when he was young.

In the middle of cutting potatoes Pierre gets a call. He only has an hour until you're home so he doesn't bother stopping, just puts it on speaker and continues measuring spices.

"Hey Daniel."

"Heard you're in London," Daniel says, Australian accent thick. "And a little birdie told me you and your lady got back together."

"We did," Pierre says, a smile splitting his face. "Finally."

"Thank god, now I don't have to listen to your drunk woe-is-me rambling anymore."

Pierre laughs and sets aside the measuring spoons. "It's not that bad."

"Oh please." Pierre could practically hear the eyes rolling. "The number of times I had to send an uber to a bar after a grand prix is insane. Charles and I should be entitled to financial compensation with the amount of babysitting we've been doing."

"I can handle myself!"

"Not after a martini you can't."

He was right there. "Is there a point to this conversation?"

"Oh right- I'm actually in town today too, got some stuff to shoot for McLaren before we head to Austria for the race next week. You guys wanna come out with us tonight? We're heading to a bar or two."

"I actually had something planned-"

"She already said she's coming!" Dan's girlfriend shouts in the background.

“Well then why even ask me?”

“To be polite,” Daniel offers with a laugh. “We’re meeting at the rooftop bar at the Trafalgar hotel at seven. That give you enough time to do whatever you had planned that’s apparently more important than seeing your best mates?”

“We’ll be there,” Pierre says and hangs up. He finishes seasoning the potatoes and pops them in the oven, finally getting a chance to sit while they cook alongside the main course.

He's on his feet a few minutes later, decluttering the last bits of mess around your flat. It was clear it hadn't had a decent cleaning in quite awhile- hopefully you'd keep it tidy now that the effort had been made. The guys would tease him endlessly if they found out he was acting like a housewife.

You arrive home just as he’s setting the table. “God, it smells amazing in here.”

“Salut, mon amour.” Hands full with hot dishes, he settles for a kiss to your cheek. “I made dinner.”

“And you cleaned,” you observe. “You were a busy boy.”

“Pyry would kill me if he found out I was laying around all day. I had to do something.”

You hang your backpack on the hook behind the door and take a seat at the table. “Well remind me to thank him again when I see him. This looks delicious.”

Pierre grins over his shoulder at you. “Me or the food?”

You throw your head back and laugh, loud and unrestrained. “The food, you goof.”

Pierre quirks a brow. "Is that the honest answer?"

"Okay, maybe both."

The meal is filled with your ramblings about your exam and your new hobby- this month it was hiking. You went into detail about all the few trails in the city you’d been on as well as the more challenging ones that dotted the countryside. Pierre just nods along as you talk, already planning on staying up late to learn what he could about the topic so he could be a better conversation partner.

The pair of you work together to tidy the kitchen and put away any leftovers. “Did you bring something semi nice to wear tonight or do we have to make a quick trip to the store?”

“I’ve got some Tauri stuff I can wear. And not just team gear,” he adds when you groan. “You know that cream sweater you love? The one with the logo debossed on the front? I’ve got that.”

“Oh,” you say before biting your lip. Your eyes trail down his frame and back up like you’re imagining it on him. A tingle travels up his spine under your assessing gaze. If you kept that up, neither of you would make it out of the apartment tonight. “My favorite. Yeah, wear that. It’ll be on my floor by the end of the night.”

Pierre places his hands on your waist and grins. “Will it? And what will be on the floor from your closet, hm?”

“Your favorite dress.”

“The orange one?” He realizes half a second too late that you would never know how much he adored that dress from the gala. It had hugged your curves in all the right places and left your back exposed, which would leave him free to trace patterns on your soft skin whenever he pleased. He had missed out on worshipping you in it that night and he wouldn’t mind the opportunity to do so now.

You roll your eyes. “I can’t wear that to a bar.”

“Says who?” Pierre nuzzles his face against your neck, breathing you in. A light undercurrent of sweat from your walk home from classes mingles with the usual bright scent of you, only serving to rile him up further. Never in a million years would he have guessed that a simple scent could do him in, and yet here he was, completely wrapped up in yours.

“Says me.” You sigh, tipping your head to the side when Pierre’s nose grazes your skin.

His lips follow until he reaches your jaw before he pulls back. “What one are you wearing then?”

“Does it matter?” You cross your arms, the smirk playing on your kissable lips tempting him.

“I have to mentally prepare myself.” And if whatever you chose was too sexy, he would need to get his handsiness out of his system before the pair of you met up with Daniel and his girlfriend. The last thing he needed was to be on the front of some seedy gossip column when his plan was to ease back into it.

You smile up at him, broad and unrestrained as if knowing your answer would affect him greatly. “The cobalt blue one that makes you stutter.”

The dress in question was just as form fitting as the orange one, but shorter and decidedly more distracting. It fell mid thigh and the spaghetti straps left your shoulders exposed, which coupled with the low back displayed a downright sinful amount of skin. You had worn it at a Torro Rosso event a couple years back and he had scarcely been able to get a full sentence out around you all night.

“That one’s a close second.” He follows you to your room, leaving you to hunt through the closet while he digs through his suitcase, thankful that he had the foresight to check out of his hotel on the way back from Red Bull and bring his things here.

Because there was no way in hell he was missing a second of being by your side while he was in town. Every moment had to count when he had no idea when he would be able to sleep next to you again, not when the season was nearly over and there were two double headers between now and winter break. When so many variables stood between him and you, he had no problem prioritizing you over a routine workout or a full night’s rest.

Pierre changes into the sweater and a pair of dark skinny jeans well before you emerge from the bathroom. He doesn’t bother responding to Dan’s text that includes an address and reminds him to be on time, instead opting to scroll through his instagram feed. He likes a handful of posts from his fellow drivers, including one of Max actually smiling at something off camera.

“Well?”

Pierre’s head snaps up at the sound of your voice. The phone falls from his hand when he drags his eyes over your body, head to toe and back again.

Oh, he was so fucked.

Maybe it was selfish, but with your hair done like that, the barest brush of makeup lining your eyes and in that stunningly blue dress, he didn’t want any other man to have the privilege of laying their eyes on you.

No, you were all his.

The moment you’re within reach, Pierre places his hands on the back of your thighs, just beneath the curve of your barely covered ass. You chuckle and tap your fingers under his chin. “Close your mouth; you’ll catch flies.”

“Just so you know, if you wear that dress I can’t be held liable for my actions.” Up to and including scaring off anyone that wasn’t Daniel or his girlfriend. No one else deserved to be blessed with your radiance. Hell, he didn’t deserve it, and yet here you stood.

“We’ll see about that.”

**********

Daniel and his girlfriend had already made their way through a round of drinks by the time you arrive. It wasn’t Pierre’s fault he couldn’t keep his hands off you and wound up getting distracted on the drive over.

"Late as always," she greets, kissing your cheek. "Dan got us here fifteen minutes early because he wanted the table with the best view."

"Like our names wouldn't have gotten us the table if we asked," Pierre says, wrapping Daniel in a one-armed hug before kissing his girl’s cheek in a traditional French greeting. "The view is pretty great though."

You were already leaning on the glass partition, hands curled over the edge and undoubtedly leaving behind fingerprints on the pristine surface, completely unfazed by the fact that the other patrons were staring. You had eyes only for the London skyline and Trafalgar square lit up below. The bar with its white marble tabletops and strict dress code was absolutely not a place that you should be standing on your tiptoes for a better view, but there was no way he could condemn you when your face lit up like that.

Pierre just places a hand on the small of your back and shoots a look at the bartender currently glaring in your direction, daring the smartly dressed man to say anything. He only raises a brow and resumes filling drink orders.

"You guys know how to pick a place," you say, "I could stand here all night."

"Right," Daniel's girlfriend says, rolling her eyes at Pierre who shrugs as if to say what do you want me to do? He was powerless to deny you anything that brought you a semblance of joy; your smile was everything to him. “Love, why don’t you come tell us about uni? You’re the only one of us currently enrolled, and I’m sure the boys would love to hear about all the drama.”

You and Pierre share a secret grin. You shake your head but allow him to guide you back to the cocktail table. “Drama? I’m an engineering major. The closest thing we have to drama is someone grossly miscalculating a structural load.”

Dan shoots Pierre a mischievous grin. “I heard Stroll might be moving next year-”

Both you and Daniel’s girlfriend groan at the same time. “No racing talk when we’re around tonight,” she says. “I’ve heard enough lately.”

“What’s new in the publishing world?” You ask, leaning into Pierre when he wraps an arm around you. He only half listens to her explain the so-called “top secret” project she’s currently working on, instead opting to get drunk on you.

The light breeze filtering through the surrounding buildings ruffles your hair. You lift a hand absentmindedly to tuck it behind your ear in an attempt to keep it out of your face. Everything you do is amazing to him, snagging his attention even when he should be listening to whatever it was his friends were saying. Your gravity was simply too strong to bother resisting.

“Enough talk,” Daniel’s girlfriend says, waving a hand. “You need a drink, and I want to dance. Let’s go.” Before Pierre can protest, she’s dragging you away to the glass top bar. You throw an apologetic glance over your shoulder and Pierre just winks. He was fine watching you from afar for now.

Pierre’s gaze drops to your perky ass when you lean in to let the bartender know what you want, likely shouting to be heard over the music, your dress riding up a bit with the movement. For having such a strict dress code, this place sure did feel like an upper class club.

You hook your thumb over a shoulder, the bartender’s gaze darting to Pierre before the man nods. The only explanation you offer is a wink, followed by a note on a cocktail napkin and a beer delivered a few minutes later by a server.

This is supposed to be the best beer they have. Just try it.

Leave it to you to constantly push him outside his comfort zone. Pierre tentatively sniffs the foamy glass and shrugs before taking a sip. Not bad, but he still preferred his usual whiskey.

Setting the glass down, Pierre turns back to Daniel. “Congrats on extending your contract with McLaren by the way. Should give you a decent shot at keeping up with the big boys and landing some serious points.”

“Seems like most of us are moving around, doesn’t it? Sainz to Ferrari, Seb to Aston Martin... The only one with any sort of long term commitment is Max and now me I guess.”

“And Charles,” Pierre adds. “He’s stuck in that red monstrosity for the foreseeable future.”

Daniel laughs, taking a swig from his glass. “And you’re moving too, huh? Austria should be interesting,” Daniel remarks, watching the girls at the bar nursing their own drinks. “What with the news of your new contract breaking and all.”

“Potential contract,” Pierre corrects. “Not for sure yet.”

Daniel scoffs. “Come on mate. You won’t have any problem getting up to seventh by the end of the season. Perez is slipping and the news that his seat is in jeopardy will only help your cause.”

Pierre takes a sip of his amber beer and nods. “I’m sure Perez doesn’t appreciate it, but he’s always been a good sport.” You catch Pierre’s eye and lift your fresh flute of champagne in a mock salute. Dan’s girlfriend drags you out on the dancefloor and immediately spins you. Your laugh is nearly audible, the memory of it fresh in Pierre’s mind as he watches you.

“Mate, have you been listening to a word I’ve said?”

“I’m sorry, what?”

Daniel shakes his head and drains his drink. “I really don’t know how it took you two this long to come together. You’ve been dancing around each other for years but neither of you would admit it.”

“I could say the same about you two.”

Daniel shrugs. “Fair point. At least we got it all worked out in a weekend though.”

Pierre rolls his eyes and shoves his friend’s shoulder. “Whatever. Not all of us can have a perfect love story.”

The grin Daniel shoots Pierre is pure sunshine. “How long are you planning on waiting before you ask her to marry you?”

“What?” Pierre sputters, nearly choking on air. “Who said anything about marriage?”

“Oh come on,” Dan says, rolling his eyes. “We all know it’s coming eventually.”

Pierre would be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about it. But he wasn’t sure if it was the time for a proposal, not when you had just gotten back together. The last thing he wanted to do was go through the pain of losing you again because he was too forward.

“One day at a time,” Pierre says finally, dragging himself back to earth. “I just got her back a few days ago. I don't want to scare her off by proposing just yet.”

“Right. Well you might want to get a ring on that hand sooner rather than later,” Daniel notes, gesturing to the two men who had approached the girls. “How long are we gonna let that go on before we step in?” Neither of you paid the men any attention, instead enjoying each other’s company, but the men’s eyes roaming over your body sets Pierre on edge.

“They can handle themselves,” Pierre remarks, shifting on his feet. The weak attempt at self assurance didn’t do much to negate the red tinting his vision. “They’re fine.”

“Her sharp tongue will hold them at bay,” Daniel says, winking at his girlfriend. “For a while at least.” Props to Daniel for possessing inhuman amounts of restraint, but Pierre’s muscles were coiled and ready to interject at the first sign of trouble.

He has to pause to remind himself he doesn't own you. You could make your own decisions about who you spoke with and who you entertained as long as he was the one to take you home. He didn't care if you wanted to flirt; he knew it meant nothing and if you got a free drink out if it then so be it. But those were the rules: flirting, no touching. He'd step in if need be if someone took it too far.

But that didn't mean he had to enjoy it.

Pierre watches tight lipped as you politely chat with the man, your body language closed off and dismissive. Pierre hates that you even speak a word to him. He knows it shouldn’t bother him because he trusts you, but the stranger is a wild card. Pierre watches like a hawk as the man inches ever closer, slowly interesting himself into your personal space. He waits for you to take a step back, to grant him that silent permission to come over and insert himself in the conversation and get his hands on you, this proving you weren't on the market.

One of the men shouts something at you over the music and you leer back at him, clearly disgusted at whatever he had said. Whirling on him, you open your mouth, likely to snap out a profanity lined retort, when his hand latches onto your arm.

"Oh, fuck no."

Half a second later, Pierre is stalking across the dance floor, no thoughts other than teaching the asshole a lesson. His hands are already curled into fists, ready to swing if the man hadn't moved by the time he arrived. Tolerating someone hitting on you was one thing, but blatantly ignoring the clear dismissals and laying a hand on you? No way in hell was he standing by and letting that happen.

The resounding crack of your open hand hitting the man’s face has pride swelling in Pierre’s chest. That’s my girl. You’d solved the problem before he’d even arrived. You jab a finger in the man’s face, Daniel’s girlfriend right there with you to back you up.

“Fuck off,” you were saying as Pierre approached, “or do you need to go back to kindergarten and learn to keep your hands to yourself? Maybe next time you’ll think twice before laying a hand on a taken woman- or any woman, for that matter.”

Driving your point home, Pierre slips an arm around your waist and pulls you in until your back is flush to his chest. You crane your neck up, the tense muscles beneath his fingertips and the fury contorting your features confirming just how rattled you are.

The lines creasing your brow are soothed away when you realize who holds you. You open your mouth to say something but Pierre places a hand on your throat, thumb and forefinger framing your jaw as he cuts you off with a kiss, his eyes locked on the guy still standing off to the side holding his cheek.

You taste like the champagne you’d been sipping all night. It’s the only thought in his head outside of the jealousy licking through his veins like wildfire as he claims you then and there in front of the crowd. Mine, his heart sings. He flexes his fingers, taking advantage of your surprised gasp to slide his tongue against yours. Mine, mine, mine.

Pierre lets you be the one to break away, lips curling in a smug, kiss-swollen smile as you address the men. “In case you still don’t get the picture, I’m not interested. And neither is she.” You jerk your chin, indicating your friend and Daniel, who had indeed followed Pierre and since mirrored his possessive stance, one arm wrapped tightly around his own girlfriend.

The two men reluctantly slink away after mumbling something unintelligible but undoubtedly indecent. It had been a week and a half since he had been on track and he had plenty of pent up aggression to get out. He didn’t normally opt for using someone’s face as a punching back as a stress reliever, but rulers were made to be broken. Your hand splayed on Pierre’s chest is all that stops him from following and asking them to repeat themselves.

“Just let me hit him,” Pierre says, voice far more level and put together than he had expected it to be. “Just one punch. That’s all I would need.” His knuckles smart like he had already connected them to the man’s face.

“And let you throw away your contract? I don’t think so. The last thing you need is a blurry photo of you knocking someone’s teeth in hitting the front page of every gossip mag in the country. I’m fine, so you can cut the bravado.”

“Yeah, I hear you.”

“I was wondering how long you were gonna leave us out here,” you say, trying to regain Pierre’s attention. When it doesn’t work, you grasp his stubbled chin and force him to look at you. “I didn’t expect to be stranded for so long.”

The eye contact is what finally calms his racing thoughts. Seeing the trust reflected in your face is enough to have his grip on your waist loosening to allow you to face him. “Someone convinced me you could fend for yourself. And while it seems that’s true, I couldn’t stand it anymore.”

Your satisfied hum is swallowed by the pounding bass but Pierre feels it rumble in his chest. “Sometimes even a queen needs saving.”

Though his point had long since been proven, Pierre’s hand slides down your back to rest on your ass nonetheless. “I knew you going out looking like this would cause trouble.”

You tip your head to the side, feigning innocence as you press your hips to his. You grin, noticing the hard on that had been bothering him all night. “Looking like what?”

“Drop dead fucking gorgeous,” he says, accentuating his point by sliding his hand up your thigh and under the hem of your dress. “You know I’m tearing this off you the second we get home, right?”

“Why do you think I wore it?”

The sound that escapes him is primal and possessive. The presence of bystanders does nothing to prevent him from palming your ass and kneading the flesh. He presses his lips to your neck and mumbles between kisses, “To torture me.”

You push lightly at his chest, laughing although your eyes dart around the space in search of cameras. Old habits were hard to break. “That may have been part of my motivation. But you’ll have to wait. I haven’t seen Dan in forever and I would actually like to have a conversation with him before we sneak off somewhere.”

At least you knew he wouldn’t be able to wait until you got home to get between your legs. “Fine,” he grumbles, hands settling on your hips. “Only because I love you.”

You beam up at him. “Love you too.”

Arm still slung around your waist, Pierre nods at Daniel and follows the other couple back to the table.

After two more drinks, you and Daniel's girlfriend are singing along to the music in lilting, off key voices, simply enjoying the night air. A stray breeze catches your hair just as you turn to look at Pierre and his heart damn near leaps out of his chest.

To his credit, Pierre’s cheeks are rosy from more than just the charged glances you throw at him as the night wears on. He was on his fourth beer, far more than he usually drank these days, and the buzzing in his head was becoming increasingly hard to ignore. When he has to squint to tell the time on his watch, he figured that was enough.

"I should probably get going mate," Pierre says, turning to Daniel. "Early flight."

Daniel laughs and beacons for the girls. He kisses his girlfriend's cheek when she returns with you in tow. "Are we leaving already?" You pout, and Pierre had half a mind to stay simply have your smile make an encore appearance.

"Car coming," he murmurs, dipping his head to give you a proper kiss. God, you were stunning in that dress- he might not be able to string together words coherently, but he knew that much.

"Fine." You cross your arms for a split second to convey your feelings on the matter before wrapping your friends in a hug and saying your goodbyes.

Pierre's hand is already on your ass before you're in the uber. Get a few drinks in the boy and he let his guard down. You laugh and pull out of his embrace to usher him into the sleek black suv. If he had been coherent, he probably would have chatted with the driver about the specs of the engine or maybe even racing if he was a fan. Instead the ride is filled with stolen touches and sloppy, wet kisses to your neck.

"I can't wait till we're home," he mumbles. "You're gorgeous. How did I snag you? You're so far out of my league. No way should you be with me."

"I have a thing for guys that go fast in circles on the weekends."

"Really?" Pierre frowns. "Should I be worried?"

"No. You're the only one I have eyes for." His head is fuzzier than when you left the bar but your laugh breaks through, his stomach flipping at the melody of it. "And we are home."

Pierre blinks, realizing he does indeed stand in your kitchen, with no recollection of climbing the three flights of stairs between the street and your flat. "Oh. When did that happen?"

"After I half dragged you up the stairs." You bend over to undo the straps of your heels, giving him the perfect view. He lets out a whistle that ends in a hiccup.

"Take me to bed, lover," he says in what he thinks is a husky voice. It should be impossible for you to resist.

You roll your eyes and wrap an arm around his middle. "That's the plan. I'll take you to bed, strip you out of that sweater, and you'll be asleep before your head hits the pillow."

"Nnnnnno," he protests, hand sliding down your exposed back to settle at the base of your spine. "I wanna make the most of tonight. I leave tomorrow."

"You don't leave until noon," you point out. "Plenty of time to nurse your hangover and have fun before then, after you drink some water and get some sleep."

"But baby-"

"No buts. Do as I say or I'll send you off tomorrow without a goodbye kiss."

Even in his half drunken state he knew it was a swiss cheese lie, spotted with holes and completely stale. You'd never let him leave without a kiss goodbye because neither of you knew if it would be the last time. He was a race car driver after all, and that came with risks.

But he sighs anyways and slips off the cream sweater, letting it fall to the floor. At least one of you kept their promises.

After confirming he was settled into bed, you retreat to the bathroom. His heart aches at the absence, even though you're mere feet away with nothing but a thin door separating the two of you. He registers the sound of the tap turning on and your soft, off key humming of the last song he remembered hearing before getting out of the uber.

"Mon amour," he croons when you re-emerge in a set of silk pajamas. He reaches out his hands for you and you slide under the covers, immediately slotting your body against his. A leg hitches over his hip, tugging him closer until your middles touch.

"Mmm," he mumbles, nuzzling into your neck. "Je t'aime. Tu es l'amour de ma vie et nous vivons d'amour et d'eau fraîche."

"I have no idea what you're saying," you whisper, running your fingers through his hair. "But I like it. Feel free to keep going."

"Tes baisers sont du feu et je fond à ton toucher." He presses his lips to your neck before resuming his mumbled French. "Je pense toujours à toi. Je veux être avec toi pour toujours. Tu as mon cœur et je ne voudrais pas qu'il en soit autrement."

"I like the sound of that." You press a soft, sweet kiss to his forehead. God, that tenderness was why he loved you. That, and your personality, and your eyes, and your… everything. "Dormir, my love. I'll be here to listen to your pretty words in the morning."

The single word of his mother tongue on your lips has him smiling. "Oui, tu le feras. Parce que tu es à moi et je suis à toi."

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solange-lol · 3 years

Text

"why don't we be friends (why don't we make out)" - (1/1)

words: 2,373

read on ao3

—

There are very few people that Nico forgets about. At least, as far as the people that have stuck around with him for most of his life.

He’s known Percy and Annabeth since they were young, remembering watching the two of them chase each other around the schoolyard and purposefully try and get desks right next to each other before they were inevitably separated by alphabetical last name seating. He remembers trying to convince Piper to do his french project and Jason sitting in the halls with him outside of the music room when they wouldn’t want to go outside for recess in middle school. He can still hear the alarm when Leo accidentally knocked over a bunsen burner in their sophomore year chemistry class, and the feeling of paint on his skin when Hazel tripped and sent half of her palette onto him in their art class.

Nico can even recall moments with the people he was never particularly close to, like when Rachel told him she loved him backstage of their winter concert after only having known him for five minutes (in a very lesbian/gay solidarity way, of course), or when Grover spent an entire hour hiding out in their school library to get away from their math sub.

It’s strange now, looking across such a large circle of people piled into Jason and Thalia’s house. They’re all people from his grade (or class , he supposes, now that they’re officially graduated), Each one of them, Nico can remember at least one conversation he’s had with them, one story he’s passed into his closer friend group that is laughed over and then inevitably moved on from.

It was supposed to be a big party celebrating all their friendships throughout the years.

Ironically, so many people that had such little impact on him, in retrospect.

Which is why it comes as a surprise to him when he sees a flash of blonde curls and freckled skin among the sea of people. He’s hit with what feels like a wall of memories of the two of them, laying in the same bed trading quiet secrets, and walks to the store to get an inhumane amount of candy that they can go share at the pier. Images of blue eyes, warm hands in his, and the sound of stifled laughter at midnight feel all too familiar. Nico is stuck on them.

He hasn’t seen Will in years.

It wasn’t exactly his choice. It wasn’t either of theirs, really. They had gone to middle school together, and from the ages of 10 to 14, Will knew the most about him.

And then their middle school graduation came and went, and Will left for a boarding school. Nico remembers, vaguely, Will asking him to come with them.

“They offer more classes, and there are more opportunities for help,” they had said, or something along the lines of it. “And we could be roommates.”

Part of him wanted to. All of him almost went. But it was the same year he lost his sister, and while moving to another state for school sounded like a fantastic way to avoid all his trauma, he had to stay with his family. Not that his father would have stopped him, but Nico knew he couldn’t go. Not yet.

So he stayed, and Will left, and it all worked out fine. They texted every other day, facetimed once or twice a month when their schedules lined up. Will came home for Christmas that year, telling stories about the other kids on their floor and their girlfriend. Then, when he came home for that summer, about their boyfriend.

Nico would listen, then catch Will up about what was going on at his public school. He had gone out on a date with one boy which was nice but didn’t turn into anything, and Will told him he would find someone eventually. They took trips to the mall together instead of the pier, mostly just to get milkshakes and have a place to walk around.

One morning, Will convinced him to bike to the beach in the morning to see the sunrise. The sky ended up being too cloudy, but they still sat together on the empty lifeguard chair, swapped sweatshirts and bagels with cream cheese, and talking about summer jobs and college.

Then Will left for their sophomore year, and school caught up to both of them and whatever kept them going was lost. The most Nico talked to them was through the occasional Snapchat sent to each other or on a group facetime

The last time Nico had called Will alone, it was in a panic to ask advice on how to break up with the boy he was dating at the time because he realized that relationships weren’t really his thing, at least not yet. Will had sat quietly, giving him occasional advice, and mostly just comforted him.

And that was it.

Nico had gotten a new phone later that year, and all their call logs and long text threads were lost into the depths of his phone memory.

It was bittersweet, in all honesty, and pretty painless for the most part. Maybe it’s because Nico never really forgot about Will. There was never any clear ending; no hard feelings between the two of them. He still sees their posts on social media, sees their mom in the store on occasion. He remembers passing Will at their local fair when they came home again for the summer of their junior year with their boyfriend that they were still dating, and then later again the next when he noticed that all posts had been removed from their Instagram including the ones with said boyfriend and nothing but will - they/them in their bio.

He wondered, briefly, where Will had gone when he didn’t even see him in passing over the following summer. Was he still going to the boarding school? Had his family moved out of the state entirely?

It never felt like a friendship breakup. It was clear now, though.

Nico wonders at which point it became one. He didn’t mean to stare at Will as long as he did. Everything had just come washing over him at once, and he was frozen in place staring at the person Nico had once called his best friend.

He doesn’t even realize he was staring until Will looks back. Their blue eyes meet his brown ones, and reality sets back in. The loud music he had drowned out in his daydream came filtering back through his ears, and he stumbles as people shove past him towards the kitchen. Still, his gaze locks on Will.

Neither of them makes a move towards each other at first.

Then, a moment later, Will is right next to him.

“Hey,” they say it slowly, almost like they were testing the waters, like they knew how long it had been since they had spoken.

Nico doesn’t know what to say. His first instinct was to hug them.

He withstands it, though, instead grabbing onto their wrist and pulling them past the crowd of people and into one of the rooms off of the main hall, which was miraculously empty. He can still hear the pounding music, but it was a little bit quieter with the door closed. Quiet enough that he can think again.

“Uh, hi,” Will tries again, and god, their smile never changed.

“Sorry,” Nico says once he realized he had just seemingly dragged them into a secondary location with no explanation. “It was just… loud. Out there.”

“I get it,” Will says, sitting down on the couch pushed onto the far wall and looking back up at Nico. They were wearing a pinkish-orange button-up Hawaiian shirt that looked straight out of their dad’s closet (Nico would know, he’s seen it before) that was half-tucked into mid-rise light wash jeans that were cuffed just enough that you could see a glimpse of where their socks met their Converse. Yellow, possibly the same pair they had bought at the mall two years prior when Nico was there.

They got taller, he thinks vaguely. Nico had too, but Will still has at least half a foot on him.

“So, what’s up?”

“Not much, I guess,” he shrugs, twisting his ring. “I mean, I graduated. I assume you did too.”

Will nods. “I did. Lou Ellen invited me as her plus one. You know her, right? Friends with Rachel.”

Nico nods. Shoulder length, cloud-like hair that was a different color every other week. Wore lots of random thrifted t-shirts over big pants. Loud personality, even louder voice. Band kid. Friends with Cecil; her good grades probably being the only reason he hasn’t been kicked out of the school yet. Once debated the legitimacy of gender binaries with him in an English class.

“Sorry for, like, staring at you before,” he says. “It’s been a while.”

They nod again. “All good. I was staring at you before anyway.”

“You were?”

“Yeah,” Will shrugs. “You’re easy to look at.”

Then, a moment later, “It has been a while, hasn’t it?”

“Yeah. You’ve changed a bit.”

“Have I?” They ask. “I think just my look, maybe. I’m still just as obnoxious.”

Nico snorts. It’s comforting to know they could just slip back into it like this. Like no time had ever passed, and Nico is back in their bedroom creating each other in The Sims.

“Are you still dating Connor?” Nico asks, vaguely remembering the last conversation they had.

“Nah, we broke up last winter.”

“Any reason?”

Will squints a bit like they’re curious why Nico’s asking. It makes Nico blush, immediately regretting saying anything.

“Dunno. We just grew apart,” they say. Then, “Sounds kinda familiar, doesn’t it?” followed by a laugh.

“I didn’t mean to stop talking to you,” Nico says quickly because he didn’t. There are days where he sees Will’s Instagram story or a tweet and knows that even though he could still comment, it wouldn’t quite be the same.

“Life got busy,” Will says. “It happens”

“I didn’t want it to. Not to us.”

“So let's restart.”

Nico blinks. “Just… start over our entire friendship?”

“No, just pick up where we left off.”

“Just like nothing happened?” he asks, sitting down on the couch next to them.

“Just like nothing happened,” Will affirms.

They’re both quiet for a moment, then—

“Do you remember what you told me when you first came out as bisexual to me?”

It was in the basement of Will’s house. Nico had come out as gay a few weeks prior, and when he was talking about the boy he liked, they just casually mentioned it. Being with Will like this again reminded him of something they had said, and something he later found out.

“I think I just, like… told you, right?” Will smiles. “And I said you were a big part of helping me figure out.”

“Yeah. I always thought you meant because I had already come out,” Nico said. “It wasn’t until, like, last year that Piper mentioned you meant that because you liked me.”

Will laughed again. “I figured you didn’t. You were always talking about what bad of a couple we would make.”

“Yeah,” Nico said, and his heart picked up pace as his knee knocked against Will’s by accident. Neither of them moved. “I actually had a massive crush on you for a while. I think I just said that because I wanted to try and get over it, so I wanted you to indirectly reject me.”

“Did you ever get over it?”

Nico laughs. “Not really. But I moved on.”

He notices Will shift closer, notices how their hands are now on top of each other and their legs are fully pressed together.

“Same,” Will says, moving their head closer to Nico’s until their foreheads are pressed together and their breaths mingle. They look at him for any sign to stop, and Nico doesn’t move.

“Good thing we’re starting over then, right?” they continue, practically a breath of a whisper before their lips connect, and god Nico did not think this was where his night was going but no way in hell was he about to stop it. (He’s not sober enough to care, anyway, and seemingly neither is Will judging by the strong scent smell of weed coming off of his shirt.)

Their hands laced together, subconsciously, almost like muscle memory from all the days walking hand in hand down the dock. (Nico wonders if his younger self was ever trying to tell his mind something.) Nico’s other hand comes up to rest on warm skin, brushing Will’s cheek with his thumb like he’s trying to wipe the freckles off.

Will wraps one arm around Nico’s waist, pulling him closer until he eventually just shifts so he’s in their lap. Will certainly doesn’t complain, only tilting their head to deepen the kiss and breaking apart their hands so they can run one hand through Nico’s hair.

They have to break apart after a moment, and Nico can help it when he laughs.

“Guess we were a little dumb when we were younger, huh?”

Will’s breathing heavy, but Nico doesn’t miss the familiar playful glint in their eye. “I don’t know what you mean. You’re still an idiot,” they say, pressing a kiss to the underside of Nico’s jaw, and another one right next to his ear.

He wonders if Will has thought about doing this the same way Nico has.

“Says you,” Nico says. “You were far more oblivious than I was.”

“I’m not the one who said we would make a bad couple,” they remind Will.

“Yeah?” he says, then leans back in to kiss Will again. Their mouths slot together, and god, they’re an even better kisser than Nico ever thought they could be. Something in his mind tells him maybe it’s not relationships he didn’t like, maybe he just knew it wasn’t the right person.

Perhaps Will’s that person he was always looking for.

Nico leans back, just barely so he can mumble “Lucky for you, I’m willing to test that theory,” against Will’s lips just before they pull him in once more.

—

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theladyofdeath · 4 years

Text

The Ranch {1}

An A Court of Thorns and Roses, Nesta x Cassian, Modern AU, fanfiction.

Collaboration: @throne-of-ashes-and-beauty x @tacmc

Summary: Nesta had spent years in Paris, living her dream and drowning in riches as a gourmet chef, capturing the hearts of the city and its people. But, after her father passes away unexpectedly and leaves his cozy, countryside B&B to his oldest daughter, Nesta is moving back home to the tiny town of Velaris, where the ranch, her sisters, and her father’s unfulfilled dream, awaits.

Sidenote: Being posted between two blogs, it is too chaotic to keep up with a tags list, so all chapters will be tagged with “#TheRanchNessian” & “#SharaCollab”.

A/N: Shelby and I have been writing this for MONTHS and we are so excited to start sharing it with you all! As always, let us know what you think, and enjoy. :) We will be going back & forth posting chapters, so look for chapter 2 on her blog!

The Ranch Masterlist

Nesta knew absolutely nothing about ranching.

Even worse, she felt absolutely nothing as she got out of her little red car and stepped onto the dirt path that led to the house.

She had grown up on this ranch, had run around and had adventures with her sisters in these pastures. Yet, as she took in everything she had inherited, she felt nothing.

She hadn’t been to the ranch in years, not since her mother died when she was eighteen. Now, almost a decade later, it was all foreign. It used to look so lively and magical during her childhood, but now it was nothing more than an old, big house built upon a huge chunk of land full of cattle.

Nesta hated cows. They smelled horrible.

She started walking up the path to her childhood home, when she saw the faded, peeling sign in the yard.

Belles & Blossoms Bed and Breakfast

The restraint Nesta used not to roll her eyes was only thanks to the fact that she was well-rested from her stay in Velaris’ newest hotel, the Manor House. The five-star hotel was supposed to be a hotel and spa, but it was more of a resort than anything. After her flight had landed, she had treated herself to a nice dinner and a massage and facial. The stress of knowing she had to come here had been wreaking havoc on her nerves and the special treatment was exactly what she needed.

But now that she was here, now that she was standing in front of the place she’d fought so hard to get out of, she wanted to turn around and check back into her room. Instead, she walked up the stairs, swiped the key from the underside of the rocking chair - where it had always been - and let herself into the house.

The first thing she noticed was the heat. There was a definite breeze coming from the vents, but the air was by no means cool. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, hoping this was not going to be an indication of how this all would go.

It looked exactly like she remembered, not a single thing having changed. The leather furniture was still prominently featured in every room, the rodeo memorabilia hanging on every wall. She sighed as she walked into the kitchen and to the sink, gazing out the window. She could see the house her father had built on the property a few years back. It had stayed mostly empty, as her father had opted to still live in the old farmhouse.

She would not though, she would move into the modern house on the back of the property, close enough to still be there for her guests, but far enough that she could have privacy if it was ever needed.

Nesta didn’t anticipate it would though.

Her own sisters didn’t even know she was back in town. It had been years since she’d spoken to Feyre and Elain and her texted occasionally, but Nesta knew nothing of their personal lives and they knew none of hers.

Nesta hadn’t even come to her own father’s funeral.

It wasn’t that she didn’t want to. But she couldn’t.

Quickly, she made her way through the rest of the house, cataloging what she saw in her head and already thinking about what changes she would make. When she got to her old bedroom, she paused, lingering in the doorway as she took in how it was the only room in the house that didn’t match the style of the rest.

No, Nesta had never cared for the rodeo lifestyle her father grew up in. Her sisters tolerated it, but just like her mother, Nesta couldn’t stand it.

The walls were still the deep grey she’d painted them, covering up the awful wallpaper featuring ropes and steers. The furniture was elegant and simply stated, dark wood with sleek lines.

There were no blinds on the windows, leaving the view down to the river uninhibited.

Nesta smiled, feeling a bit of pride as she took in how good her room looked in comparison to the rest of the house. She also let out a breath of relief as she realized it was one less room she’d have to redecorate.

She would do the rest later. Being back was beginning to take its toll. Nesta hurried back out the front door and hopped in her car, driving it further down the old dirt road. Nesta used to love the scenery. There were trees scattered across the landscape, trees that Nesta used to sit underneath in the spring and summer and read her books. Her father used to ask her to help out around the ranch, but Nesta was never interested in ranching. Her sisters helped him, always, and that seemed to be good enough for him.

Nesta pulled up to the little house her father had built and turned off her car. For a moment, she just sat in the quiet, staring at the little house.

It was cute, even on the outside. There was a little porch with one old rocking chair. The door had been painted red, and Nesta smiled, remembering it was her mother’s favorite color.

Once she got out, she opened the trunk and pulled out her bags. Much like the main house, the key was underneath the rocking chair. She let herself in and froze.

It was practically empty.

Her father really hadn’t spent much time in there. But why would he? He loved the main house, loved interacting with the guests that would stay there once he turned it into a bed and breakfast.

Besides, it was the home they had lived in as a family. As much as Nesta wanted to get away from the ranch, her father had always taken pride in his family.

Nesta included.

Which was why he left the ranch for his firstborn, she assumed.

Nesta walked through the empty living room and into the back bedroom, where a simple, bare, full-sized bed sat opposite of a wooden dresser. Other than that, a mirror hung on the wall as the single piece of decor.

Nesta tossed her bags on the mattress before finding her way into the bathroom. There was a shower with no curtain, a sink with no soap, and a toilet with no toilet paper.

At least the place was decently clean.

After rummaging through her bag and changing into jean shorts and a t-shirt, Nesta found herself in the kitchen, finding it - shockingly - empty before making a serious mental note to go to the store before the day was over. Sheets, soap, shower curtain, shampoo, food…

She needed it all.

Before she could feel even more overwhelmed, she found herself on the front porch and breathed in the fresh air. It was then that she noticed the little log cabin sitting on the other side of the dirt road.

There had been a ranch hand, hired by her father, when Nesta was little that used to live in that cabin. She couldn’t remember his name, but she remembered his smile. He was a kind, older man who had passed away before Nesta turned ten.

Promising she’d revamp the little log cabin after taking on the main house, she slipped on her tennis shoes and walked back up the dirt road.

She could hear the cows in the distant field and supposed she would have to hire a new ranch hand if she were to keep the ranch going. She sure as hell didn’t know what to do.

Jogging up the stairs, Nesta let herself back in and paused in the entryway, trying to decide what her plan of attack should be. She could clean first, but then when she decided what should stay or go, she’ll just discover more dirt and dust. Or she could start a throwaway pile, but that would definitely stir up the dust.

Nesta groaned and dropped her head in her hands. When she’d first gotten the phone call from her father’s lawyer, letting her know that he’d left the B&B to her, she didn’t even want it. She started looking into what she needed to do and how much she could sell it for, house, land, and business. It had been a decade since she left and she hadn’t looked back once. Why would she now?

She’d found early success in the culinary arts. She studied in Miami, New York, Paris, Rome. She traveled the world. Her father couldn’t really expect her to give all that up, to give up her life, to come back to the town she grew up in, and run the bed and breakfast he started after she got out.

But he did. He trusted her with his dream and with his ranch.

And so she found herself back in Velaris, in the middle of summer, in a house with limited air conditioning, scrubbing the antique baseboards on her hands and knees. After she’d completed the living room, the molding a wholly different color than when she started, she stood and wiped the sweat from her forehead. She fanned herself and looked at her watch.

Only 10:45 in the morning and it was already pushing 85° outside. Nesta quickly realized she’d need to get someone out to work on the air conditioning unit as quickly as possible, and went to the kitchen to grab a bottled water from the fridge.

As she walked through the house, she quickly opened up her browser and looked up a number for a local company that could hopefully get to her quickly. She found one that could work on HVAC and plumbing, and decided to have a once overdone on the entire house. She selected the number and hit send, putting the phone to her ear and opening the fridge.

Nesta hung up the phone, slammed the fridge shut and gagged all in the same second.

Apparently, in the past four weeks, the fridge had gone out. Everything inside had gone bad and though she was used to working in a kitchen, she had never smelled anything so foul in her life.

Nesta has already planned on replacing the fridge, and every other appliance, in the outdated kitchen, so she wasn’t too upset. Just frustrated that would have to be handled so soon. She put the phone down on the counter and tied her hair back in a ponytail.

Air conditioner would have to wait. This fridge had to go.

She sized the thing up, eyeing it from top to bottom. Maybe there was a dolly out in the shed she could use to push it out the back door. It was smaller than an average refrigerator, after all. What could go wrong?

She reached back behind it to make sure everything was unplugged. Then, she slowly took everything out one by one, tossing it a giant black garbage bag she had found in the cabinet.

Nesta was so focused on what she was doing, she didn’t hear the back door open and shut.

“There’s a six pack in there. Hopefully you didn’t throw that out, too.”

Nesta jumped, nearly hitting her head on the open freezer door. “Fuck!” She turned around, and froze. “Who the hell are you?”

He stood there, hair loose around his shoulders, sweat gleaming across his bare, inked chest. He had on filthy boots, covered in the gods knew what, as he stepped into the kitchen.

“I’m wondering the same thing.” The man leaned his hip against the counter that ended at the back door. “Can I help you with something?”

Nesta just blinked, staring at the man, trying to decide if her day could get any more strange. “You can help by getting the hell out before I call the police.” She grabbed her phone, hoping that he knew she was serious. “Have you ever heard of knocking? Trespassing? Or do you always just let yourself into random womens’ back doors?”

The man didn’t try to hide his gaze as he let it drag down her body and settled it on her ass. “Hmm.” He crossed his arms and focused his attention back on her face. “Usually, I like to have dinner with a woman before I ask her to let me in her back door, but I guess if you want to be so direct about it.”

Nesta’s mouth dropped open and she unlocked her phone, giving it her attention. “I’m calling the police.”

“Good,” the man said, pulling a kitchen chair out from the table and sitting down. “I can’t wait for them to get here and arrest your ass.”

Her finger froze where it hovered over the green button. “Me? Arrest me?” She started to laugh.

“Sweetheart, I don’t know what you think is so funny, but I’ve been here every single day for the last eight years, I’ve never seen you in this house once.” He leaned forward and braced his elbows on his knees. “Now, I’ll ask one more time. Can I help you with something?”

Every single day for the last eight years.

“My name is Nesta,” she said, standing a little straighter. “I’m Isaac Archeron’s daughter.”

The man only stared at her, blinking every couple of seconds. “I’m sorry, you said that you were Nesta?”

She nodded.

“You’re kidding me,” he chuckled, standing up. “He left it to you? Really?”

Her eyes narrowed. “Why is that so surprising?”

“Because I’ve met Isaac’s daughters. You know, the ones that have been in his life in the last decade.” He walked toward her and reached past her shoulder to one of the beers that sat in the door of the fridge. He popped it open and took a long, slow drink before saying, “You weren’t one of them.”

He didn’t move from where he stood less than a foot in front of her. He was massive, but Nesta didn’t cower from his size, although it took everything in her to look up and meet his humored gaze instead of staring straight ahead at his chest.

“Now that you know who I am, I suggest you tell me who you are,” was all she said, not giving him the satisfaction of a response to his jab.

He grinned, taking another drink before introducing himself. “Cassian. I’ve worked for your dad for-.”

“Eight years, yeah, I got that,” Nesta interrupted. “You take care of the herd?”

He nodded. “And nearly everything else. Used to work alongside Isaac, but did everything pretty much myself once he took a turn for the worse.”

Took a turn for the worse.

Nesta tried to pretend like the words hadn’t punched her in the gut.

“I see. And do you live here?” Nesta asked, gesturing to the house around them. “If so, you’ve done a shitty job keeping the place up.”

“No,” he said, finally turning his back to her to resume his spot in his chair. “I live in the old log cabin. This house has been neglected for the most part since your dad took-“

“A turn for the worse?” Nesta finished for him. “Yeah, got it.”

“Do you like to finish people’s sentences?” He asked, brow raised. “I’m sensing a theme.”

Nesta ignored him, closing her eyes and sighing. “I’m not sure what my father was paying you but-.”

“He wasn’t,” Cassian interrupted, taking a page from her own book and cutting her off. He finished what was left of the warm beer and threw it across the kitchen into the trash can. It went in with precise accuracy. “What I mean is, he hasn’t been. We came to an agreement at the end of my third summer here, when money was getting tighter. He knew he couldn’t run this place without a ranch hand, but he couldn’t afford to pay me. So he gave me the cabin, signed it over to me. Deed is in my name,” he said, seeing the look on Nesta’s face. “All of my utilities are covered by the B&B. I don’t pay a dime for that house. In return, I do whatever needs to be done on these twenty acres.”

Nesta stared at him, trying to decide if the man - Cassian, he’d said - was trying to deceive her or if he was being genuine. She may not know him, but when it came down to it, she knew her father, and she knew that letting him live for free on their family land is exactly something he would do. “How do you make money then? How do you afford to eat and buy clothes and other necessities?”

“I have other ways to make money, don’t worry about that,” he said, standing and brushing dried mud off of his jeans. He didn’t give her much more time to ask questions as he stood and headed for the door. “I’ll come by and fix the AC later on this afternoon. I have to go into town for feed so I’ll pick up the part I need then.” He was out the back door and his heavy boots were clomping down the wooden stairs.

Nesta ran after him, flinging the door open. “You knew the air conditioning was out? Why haven’t you fixed it already?”

Cassian turned around and looked at her. “I just told you that I don’t technically get paid for the work that I do. My boss, your father, was the one who paid the bills here. It’s been over four weeks since the electric bill was paid and I was trying to keep this place up and running as long as I could with what little money I had saved.” As he passed through the gate that led out to the pasture and the horse stalls, he grabbed a sweat-soaked t-shirt that was draped over the fence and tossed it over his shoulder. He continued to walk backward as he finished explaining himself. “I knew we weren’t going to have many guests in the B&B any time soon and decided that feeding the living creatures that live here was more important than cooling the empty house.”

Nesta watched him walk away. Once he disappeared into the shed, she turned around and went back inside.

Every ounce of anger and frustration had left her. Suddenly, she was feeling empty. Cassian had spent the last eight years with her father, her sisters, working this land and making a home here.

She shook the thoughts away as she tossed the rest of his warm beer cans into her garbage bag.

_____________________________

Nesta had decided to commit the rest of her day to making the little house she now occupied feel a little more homey. She’d gone to the store to pick up a few decor items and some food, along with sheets and a shower curtain.

However, when she pulled back into the driveway, a silver truck was pulled up in front of the main house.

Elain was sitting in a rocking chair on the front porch.

Nesta couldn’t help but smile as she got out. She hadn’t even reached the steps before Elain was running into her arms.

“You didn’t tell me you were coming!” She said, holding her older sister tight. “Cassian texted me.”

“Ah, the rude cow wrangler,” Nesta muttered. “Joy.”

“He’s great,” Elain said, smile fading.

Nesta cleared her throat. “Sorry I didn't let you know I was coming. It…all happened so fast.”

Elain shook her head. “I’m just glad you’re here. Gods, I missed you.”

There was a time when she and Elain had been really close. Leaving her was much harder than leaving Feyre and Isaac. But, Elain was destined to stay in Velaris forever, and Nesta didn’t want that.

Yet, she managed to end up in the damn town, anyway.

Elain got in the passenger seat of Nesta’s car and they headed down to the new house. Nesta began pulling the bags out of her back seat and Elain, helping her carry them up the porch stairs, asked what all she’d bought.

“Everything,” Nesta laughed, pausing to unlock the door, but finding it already open. “Dad didn’t have anything in here, so I figured I’d at least-.”

Nesta froze as she stepped through the threshold, the bags falling to the floor. There was something that sounded far too similar to glass breaking for Elain’s liking, but Nesta didn’t seem to notice as she breathed, “Where did all of this come from?”

Where there had only been open space earlier, there was now furniture. A couch and entertainment center took up the living room area, and a small breakfast nook now sat in the corner by the kitchen.

“It was mine before I moved in with Azriel,” Elain said, an amused lilt to her voice. “Why do you think I’m in his truck?”

“Elain, I can’t- this is-.” She stopped and swallowed hard, turning to look at her sister. “Thank you.”

Elain just smiled. “It was in storage. I’d rather you be using it than gathering dust in our garage.”

Nesta nodded, slowly, unsure of what to say. “So… Still with Azriel, huh? Moved in together?”

“Yeah, I think he’s going to propose soon,” Elain said, brown eyes lighting up with pure adoration. “I can’t wait.”

“That’s great,” Nesta said, and she meant it, although it didn’t sound like it. She was still in shock. Overwhelmed. She was so incredibly overwhelmed.

“I told Feyre you’re here,” Elain said, sitting on the couch in the little living room. “She said she’ll try to stop by soon.”

Nesta knew it was a lie, but she forced herself to smile. “Great.”

Her and Feyre hadn’t talked since she left. Nesta was eighteen. Feyre was only fifteen, and she refused to understand how Nesta could just take off after they’d just lost their mother.

And Nesta had never attempted to explain her reasoning to her youngest sister.

To anyone.

“So,” Elain began, once the silence became too much. “What plans do you have for this place? Dad, obviously, thought you could bring it back to life. You’ve always had an eye for such things.”

Nesta snorted. “We both know that’s not true. Dad only left this place to me because I’m the oldest. And why don’t you ask me the question you really want to ask?”

Elain attempted to look confused, but failed.

“Don’t bullshit me,” Nesta chuckled. “And don’t worry. No, I’m not selling it. I thought about it. But…” Nesta shrugged. “Dad trusted me enough, for some damn reason, to leave it to me. And we grew up here. I know you all think I’m a heartless bitch, but I’m not that heartless.”

“We don’t think you’re a heartless bitch…” Elain trailed off.

“Just a bitch?” Nesta laughed, sitting next to her and propping her feet up on the small coffee table.

“Shut up,” Elain said, bumping her with her shoulder. Nesta gently shoved her back and Elain laughed, resting her head on her sister’s shoulder. Nesta leaned her own head atop her sister’s. “I missed you.”

“I missed you, too, Lainy.” Nesta smiled. Using the old childhood nickname Elain had hated felt too easy and when she heard her sister groan, she knew she’d hit her mark.

Elain stood. “I should go. I told Az I was running the stuff over here and then I’d be back home. That was almost two hours ago.”

“You did this all by yourself?” Nesta was shocked looking at the furniture around her. It was nice, a good, sturdy quality. It wasn’t cheap by any means, and thanks to that, it didn’t seem light. Nesta imagined her gentle sweet sister trying to get the couch she currently sat on through the door by herself.

Elain laughed and said, “Cauldron, no! I can barely lift the coffee table by myself. Cassian helped me.”

“Cassian?” Nesta lifted a brow.

“Yeah, the rude cow wrangler, remember?”

Nesta scoffed. “No, I know his name, it’s just…” That was nice of him. Was his shirt still off? “Why didn’t Azriel come to help?”

“He’s at work. Just started a new job in town at the dealership. Mechanic. Works on the tractors and whatnot.”

Nesta didn’t know much about Azriel, only what Elain had told her of him. Although, if she remembered right, they all went to the same high school.

She didn’t care, though. All she cared about is that this Azriel treated her sweet Elain the way she deserved to be treated, and judging by the light in her eyes when she spoke of him, she knew that he was.

“He said you two got off to kind of a rough start,” Elain said, stopping just in front of the front door.

“Azriel?” Nesta asked, genuinely confused.

Elain giggled. “No, Cassian. He really is a good guy, okay? Give him the benefit of the doubt, I know you don’t trust people easily. But dad trusted him with everything and he’s been around for a while. He’s the best ranch hand you’re going to get for this place. He loves it like it's his own.”

Nesta just huffed.

“Anyway,” Elain went on, showing herself out. “How about we all get together for dinner tomorrow night? We can go anywhere, your choice.”

“Who is all?”

Elain shrugged. “Me and Azriel? I’ll see if Feyre wants to come. Maybe even ask Cassian-.”

“I don’t think-.”

“I’m glad you’re back,” Elain said, smile bright, cutting off her sister’s protests.

With that, Nesta watched as her sister walked back up the dirt road toward the main house.

Huffing out a breath, Nesta turned and looked at her new home. It wasn’t much, just a bedroom and a couch and a bathroom, but it was home. She’d make it hers.

Just like the main house and just like the bed and breakfast. She’d make them something she could be proud of.

And so, as the sun went down, Nesta got to work.

#TheRanchNessian #SharaCollab #nessian #fanfic #fanfiction #modern au #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #acosf #nesta #cassian

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wolfcha1k · 3 years

Text

As soon as I started practicing kisses I suddenly can't help adding them now lmao something fluffy and firey for you heathens. Still sfw content tho ofc. Based on the new fanart I did recently so some of it doesn't match the art in hindsight :"D I think now its just gonna be a new tradition to write something to go along with my pieces.

They were taking one of their occasional adventures away from the Betterman Farm, where they would hunker down in the wilderness for several days at a time. For a while, Guy and Eep would forget there was an entire world that they shared with other people; their family. It was just the two of them, hunting and foraging and seeing the beauty the land itself provided.

She knew her home was the Farm now but her heart would never deny she was always meant for the untamed wild where the sun stretched on forever. She wasn't sure why Guy had lead her towards the desert as an area for camp, it was hot and unspeakably dry during the day, sweltering even. Her entire life had been the dusty desert and the canyon with that awful cave as the only escape from the heat.

As dusk fell, Guy had only grinned at her. They'd set up camp not long after the daytime sun joined the many nighttime suns in the sky. The sight of how many slept above her still was awe striking. Guy skinned a boar they'd hunted together, something Eep wanted to teach Dawn about someday. She knew as much as Guy enjoyed his safer, more pampered life with the Bettermans, he was still that adventurous nomad born and raised. He lived for the thrill his skills provided him and how all his ideas saved him from many obstacles.

Eep watched the fire flicker and sway, it was still surprising how alive looked. She leaned her hands out to toast her palms, the desert chilled now the sun set. She didn’t understand that either, how such a mercilessly hot place can become so cold.

The embers glowed in her green eyes when she felt Guy touch her wrist. Eep turned to him, seeing the fire reflecting in his dark gaze. He was beautiful, one of the most wonderful things she ever saw even after everything he'd shown her.

"I got the boar skinned, just need help putting a skewer through it," Guy said, gesturing towards the beast. They had parked themselves by an oasis, giving Guy a way to wash off the blood from his hands.

Eep had offered to do it, blood never phased her but Guy insisted she just rest. In the meantime she had bathed in the spring, the sand and sweat on her uncomfortable before settling down by the fire to wait on her mate. She hadn't wanted to admit it but she felt rather tired after the long trek. Guy had his reasons for picking this place but he could be so strange and peculiar about it in a way she never understood.

Perhaps that was why she loved him so much. There was nobody else in the world like him, even if she could only count the amount of people she knew on both hands.

Eep stood up from her crouching position. "Sure, I'm starving," she exclaimed, eying the pig carcass greedily. "Are you absolutely certain we can't just - "

"No, you are not sinking your teeth into that thing without cooking it first," Guy scolded her, it was more akin to when Ugga was telling off her children for causing mischief. "You'll get sick. I need to bring you back to Grug in one piece or I'll be in pieces."

"Fineeeee," Eep compromised with a dramatic sigh, leaning her neck back before walking over to help her mate spear the pig.

Eep with Guy’s help, well, mostly Eep but she liked making him feel useful, carried the spitted animal towards the campfire and held it over it. Guy had crafted some little makeshift contraption with wood and rope he'd packed, so they could use a pulley system to rotate the roasting boar

The two took alternating shifts.

"It's funny," Eep couldn’t help but muse suddenly, taking in the view. The fire made the golden sandstone burn a brilliant red color, reminding her of amber.

"What's funny?" Guy asked from his post by the pig, rotating it with a careful eye so it cooked evenly.

"Well…" Eep leaned her elbow on her bent knee, her chin on her hand. "We met in a desert and you asked me to marry you in one too."

Guy tried hiding his smile by turning back to cooking but Eep saw it, perceptive as always. He pretended to ignore her narrow eyed look. "Funny how fate works," he quipped and heard Eep snort in a very unadulterated fashion.

"You planned this," Eep accused him and Guy finally was forced to face the music because the boar didn't need this much turning on the spit.

"Me? Plan things? You must be mistaken," Guy quipped, his tone betraying him. His grin was wide. "Okay, you got me. Happy anniversary, or have you forgotten?"

"As if I can forget the night I nearly dashed your brains out with a rock," she said with more fondness than any normal person should, jumping to her feet.

Guy held her hands, leaning forward to nuzzle his nose against hers. "Me either, you're a hard one to forget."

"Well, I did call you back."

"You did," he agreed before pouting. "Not my smoothest pick up line though."

"So you didn't tell every girl that line? 'If you survive, call me?'" Eep quoted, exposing her teeth in a teasing smirk.

"Nope, you were the first and only," Guy assured her, winking. "It worked."

"It did," she agreed back, shaking her head with a giggle. "So…" Eep began coyly, averting her eyes towards the landscape colored black in silhouette.

"So…?" Guy urged her, knowing that Eep didn't need the coaxing but somehow it had just become their thing.

"What if I did come with you that night," Eep asked him, turning back to bat her eyelashes at him. "I think this is the perfect spot to humor the thought." She gazed around the desert, the ground hard with stone, much like the one she had followed Guy's fire that night.

"Well for one, your dad would have killed me because I didn't know he was part of the equation yet," Guy replied, both joking and serious as he said it. "This little journey would have definitely been way more interesting though if I had stolen you away from him."

"Stolen me," she echoed with a laugh though her ears burned from a mixture of the fire and thought. There had been an obvious attraction and two teenagers journeying alone, well, it didn't take a Betterman to figure it out. "You make this sound scandalous, Guy."

"It's not now though so that means when you took my hand, I'd do this." He lifted her palm to his lips, gently kissing a scar that led down to the pulse point of her wrist.

"No, you wouldn't have," Eep teased him. "You were too scared of me to try it."

"I wouldn’t," he agreed. "But this is a fantasy so anything can happen."

"Okay," she amused him, letting Guy continue his little story.

Guy seemed to realize a dark implication in this what if and since it was a fantasy, he could change that. "The world isn't ending, I'm still a nomad but you're just a stir crazy teenage girl instead."

"I am a stir crazy teenage girl," Eep corrected him, leaning up on her toes to brush his cheek with her nose. "And I'll remind you everyday, babe."

"You make telling this story harder than it needs to be," Guy lamented in mock offense, drawing her closer to eye her down. Eep just grinned innocently. "Stop putting plot holes."

Eep just giggled, feeling him turn her hand over to kiss her knuckles and each finger delicately. It was like having a butterfly touch her skin.

"Fine, then what?"

"We'd run away together," he continued, looking up at her with loving eyes. "Somehow outsmart your dad because Sandy would totally have sniffed us out in the morning."

Eep smirked, fighting off a broad smile in her amusement. "Would you have fought him?"

"I mean…" Sure, it was a fantasy but he was also just stronger, bigger and scarier than Guy was. Besides, hindsight wasn't twenty twenty and this caveman was now a second father to him. As annoying and abrasive as Grug had been in all the time Guy knew him, he also had a begrudging respect and admiration for him too. "Maybe we'd just bring him along anyway, save us the trouble."

"Is the log ride magic now?" Eep asked him with a wicked grin. "Does it fly us to Tomorrow? I'm sure it could if dad kicked it hard enough for us."

Guy scoffed, "This is my fantasy so there is no log."

"Aw, you're no fun," she sniggered, lifting his hand to press his palm into her nose fondly. "The log brought us together."

"Yeah but in this story you already came with me," Guy reminded her with a gentle tug, taking her hand back to stroke his thumbs fondly over her knuckles.

Eep tried hard not to laugh again, blushing as well under the soft look he gave her. He smiled at her and she melted like ice. It was intimate and vulnerable, more so than anything they'd done in all the time proceeding to this moment.

"Alright," she murmured, stroking his chest after laying her palm flat against his heart. She fiddled with the seashells dangling around his neck, idly stroking his throat and felt him swallow. "Then what?"

"I'd show you the world and since there's no The End… we wouldn't rush through it. You know, actually do some sight seeing. Fall slowly in love with each beautiful thing I show you but never seems to compare to you." Eep couldn’t help the giddy giggle as he called her beautiful, beaming bright like a sun ray at his compliment. Guy's eyes almost glazed over as he gave the silly romantic escapade story more thought, he chuckled. "Your dad would ruin all our little moments though, so it's kinda hard."

"So even in this little I went with you story, dad still keeps us apart?" Eep pouted.

"Every story needs conflict," Guy teased her. "Dad was going to catch up eventually, family in tow. We were taking the scenic route, it was bound to happen, Eep."

Eep rolled her eyes at him, tugging Guy down so they could sit with their backs to the fire. She leaned her weight against his side, feeling Guy rest his arm behind her back. "I hope things start getting more romantic for us, Guy."

Guy pressed a kiss to her temple, grinning. "It does. After hauling our crazy family cross country, we find the sun hidden on a mountain."

Eep remembered Guy's mountain, two tall twin peaks that extended high above the sky, swathed in clouds and extending out to a meadow after climbing the outcrop. They were supposed to ride it to Tomorrow, joining it among the many sleeping suns above. "How are we going to ride it to Tomorrow if I'm your Tomorrow?"

"I'm retconning stuff, stop spoiling the story," Guy scolded her, just resting his head on hers, taking in her smokey wild scent. "I realize this sooner, because the sun isn't really attainable. We go after it but it just gets farther and farther away." He extended his hand out in a reaching gesture. This meant Guy was really getting into the story.

"Are you sad for awhile?" Eep inquired, absently hugging his bicep now that Guy no longer held her hands.

"For a bit," he admitted. "I mean, my parents said to follow the sun but you really can't but…" Guy paused and gazed fondly at his wife tucked into his side, body warm, familiar and supple.

"But…?"

"I found you, light led me to you. I realize this and tell you I love you after this little journey." Guy nuzzled her cheek with a blissful little sigh. "Also then we find the Bettermans and live happily ever after in their treehouse with the punch monkeys."

Eep poked him in the chest, not really the reaction he was expecting after that happy ending. "You can't just skip an entire chapter like that and tack 'the end!'"

Guy took her hand in both of his, cupping it tender in-between his palms. "It works when your dad tells stories," he joked.

"Well, that was before you started telling better stories," Eep exclaimed with a childish huff that was so her it made Guy muffle a laugh into her shoulder.

"Did you tell Grug that?"

"You know how dad is," she replied a bit more sheepishly this time. "Least everybody doesn't die at the end anymore."

"They don't," he agreed, gazing at her fondly once again. "He's getting better though, I like happy endings."

"I like happy endings. I like you," Eep added, cuddling herself cozy as a cat under his arm and against his chest. She listened to his heartbeat, soothed by the gentle thump.

Guy stroked her back, gentle as he rested his chin above her head. "Only like?" He murmured.

"Maybe if you don't rush your endings then I'll say something else," she told him, Guy feeling her lips as she spoke against his heart.

Guy hugged her, adjusting his position so he could tug his wife onto his lap. She immediately curled up there, warm and safe as he draped his arms around her like a cocoon. "What if there is no ending yet? I like leaving our story open ended, Eep."

He suddenly found himself on his back and he gave a soft oof in surprise. Eep leaned over him, hands braced above his head as she looked down at him. The firelight made her already bright red hair even more so, blazing like the sun with the dark shadows making her eyes and face seem more intense.

"Then… I guess I can accept that," she relented after several moments, a smile crossing her face. She pressed her forehead against his, nose touching his.

Guy's eyes fluttered closed, knowing the intimate implications of the gesture amongst her people. He felt her breath fan his face before something soft touched his lips.

Immediately he wrapped his arms around her, letting his palms gently stroke the strong muscles of her back as they flexed beneath them. He'd never tired of her, beautiful and feral as she was. There was a soft gasp against his lips and he gave a quiet little growl, pressing up to mold his body with hers.

He found his words despite wanting to just keep kissing her. The moment was too right to neglect however. It took a few long moments of trading kiss after kiss that Guy had an idea to put his lips to good use in a way he wouldn't need to stop. Trailing a few heated kisses down the soft slope of her neck, he mumbled, "Eep?"

She hummed, "Mhm?" It was hardly the most direct of words but he took it.

"You lit a fire in me when we met," Guy confessed though he knew it was obvious at this point. It was no secret despite the circumstances of their relationship's beginning, he'd been infatuated and found her cute. Scary habits despite that, of course. "And you were in my every thought since then, I really was hoping you'd call me, Eep."

"I really wanted to go with you," she said, pushing him away to graze a palm down his bicep, tracing a stripe fondly before finding his hand to lace their fingers together. Her touch singed him more than the embers behind him did from where he lay. "I just…"

"You came with me eventually though," he reminded her though found he needed to remind himself to focus when she lifted his hand to her lips to kiss his longer fingers. He closed his eyes, sighing. "You gave me something even better than any Tomorrow I thought I'd find out there."

"Even if you were a stupid boy?" She teased him through the haze, bracing her weight against his again. She still sometimes made fun of him for that but in the moment he hardly cared, caging her in his arms.

"Yes," he grunted, Guy would agree to anything she said right now so long as she kept touching him like this.

Their lips met again but she suddenly paused, her roaming hands no longer roaming. He huffed against her lips, confused and a bit frustrated that she stopped.

"Guy?" Eep murmured against his lips breathily.

"Mhm?" It wasn't an intelligible response but having Eep so close to him like this always rendered him a useless fool.

"Do you smell something burning?" Eep drew away, ignoring Guy's protesting whine as their lips no longer brushed.

"Just my love for you," he told her, sitting up with what he hoped was a winning smile.

Eep flared her nostrils at the smell and eyes widening looked past Guy towards their camp fire, having completely forgotten about the cooking boar during their recent activities.

"Guy, the boar is on fire," she exclaimed.

Guy in an instant scrambled to his feet to try salvaging their dinner. "Oh crap!" He ran for a waterskin and a blanket but to Eep it was probably a fruitless endeavor.

She was never much of a picky eater anyway. Sometimes some burning did a meal good, she thought, touching her lips with a grin.

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dontasktheradiodemon · 3 years

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Musical Tryouts (1/31/2021)

Please pretend I posted this chat log a month and a half ago when it actually happened, sob.

Valera @autokrates is leaving an audition for Hell’s first production of Hamilton, and runs into Alastor, waiting for his turn to audition. They hang out and chat until it’s his turn—which marks the first time in forever they’ve had a full conversation that wasn’t Incredibly Awkward the whole way through. Hooray for progress.

Chronologically, this chat log happened between this (note: art of extremely hilarious outfit) and this (note: art of another hilarious outfit)

Alastor

Alastor hasn’t auditioned for a show since the seventies, and hasn’t auditioned and *cared* about it in almost a century. He’d like to think he doesn’t look nervous, but he knows he’s reread his typewritten lyrics about a hundred times and every couple of minutes he catches his leg bouncing again. That’s fine, he’s in disguise, he isn’t supposed to look like himself anyway. He can look a little nervous.

When he realizes he’s more staring a hole through his pages than actually reading them, he forces himself to lift his head, slouches back in his cheap metal chair, and looks around the makeshift backstage waiting room. Maybe he can figure out if anyone else is trying for his parts, drag them into the back alley, and mangle them. It would defeat the purpose of showing up in disguise, but it would burn some nervous energy, and anyway he’s already seen one would-be Angelica pin another down and slit her throat. His gaze scans over the other hopeful actors.

Valera

From the stage comes the muffled sound of someone singing, as expected. But the singing gets louder as the voice approaches the door, and it certainly sounds like Not A Musical Number. It sounds a lot more like someone who needed to be accompanied by someone torturing a piano with a series of small hammers. Was that a Will Wood number? Why yes, yes it was!

Through the curtains and round the corner comes the fish supreme, bedecked in enough frills and frippery to lose an orphan in with their 18th century french fashion, belting out lines from I/Me/Myself as they saunter towards the exit with barely a glance for the other hopefuls waiting for their call. Barely a glance at all, until their eyes land on Alastor. Then their jaunty tune is cut off with an uncanny impression of a record scratch crossed with a chicken being strangled, head whipping around for a double take as they freeze mid stride. Holy fuck what was he WEARING???

Alastor

Alastor’s ears threatened to perk up beneath his temporarily shapeshifted hair at the sound of a very familiar and very beloved song from another performer—he’d almost considered performing that one himself, God was he lucky he’d decided to go with “Modern Major General”—and he turned to see who it was with the spectacular taste in music—

“Valera?!” What the hell was Valera doing at a musical audition in Hell?

Valera

It WAS Alastor! They KNEW it! They gasp, pointing at him as their eyes boggle. "Al--" And just as quickly, a hand is clapped over their own mouth, teeth clicking as they clamp their mouth shut. Okay, try that again, *without* ruining his disguise.

They stride over to where he's sitting, leaning in slightly before hissing. "What are you WEARING?"

Alastor

Alastor plays the sound of something crashing over when Valera starts to say his name—the other waiting performers look around to see which props just toppled over—and hops out of his seat to meet Valera in the middle when they approach him. “Do *not* expose me,” he hisses, flinging an arm around Valera’s shoulders. “Nobody here knows I’m the Radio Demon and if this is going to work, nobody *can* know.”

Then he looks down at his own outfit. “A disguise.” Obviously. “I asked my listeners, ‘What’s the last thing you’d ever expect me to wear?’”

Valera

Oh, great, he's touching them AND he's already mad at them for something they'd already avoided. This seemed like par for the course, might as well get through this as painlessly as possible. Valera's face tightens into a stiff little smile, stomach already twisting into knots. "I've got no plans of exposing you, it would be a shame to ruin the work you put into your... outfit."

A slow exhale from the nose, and they force their shoulders to relax. Can't have the other actors see the two of them at odds, they're clearly just a couple of friends running into each other! A funny coincidence! Their voice raises back to a normal speaking tone, all sunshine and cheer as they give Alastor a pat on the back that falls short of actually touching him. "I take it you're here to audition for a part, then?"

Alastor

Alastor wheezes a near-silent laugh. “Isn’t it hideous?” he whispers. “You should see what the full leggings look like, they’re horrible.”

He lets go and steps back. “I am! I was seized by a wild burst of inspiration, and auditions happened before that inspiration ran out. I take it you... *already* auditioned.” Which raises a whole slew of questions, but Alastor starts with the most important one: “Which part?”

Valera

Valera sends up a silent prayer of thanks to any God listening, hands folding behind their back as they admire Alastor's grotesque attire. "Unfortunately, I kind of love it. It's vile, but with a few tweaks it could be a genuinely good outfit."

They clear their throat at his latter question, rolling back on the heels of their new shoes. "Washington. I didn't come to Hell today expecting to audition for anything, I was just here buying shoes. But I heard music, saw the theater, decided to pop in and see what was going on. And hey, why not try out? Didn't expect to run into you of all people."

Alastor

A little tension drains out of his shoulders at the answer. He glances down to idly check out Valera’s new shoes. “Oh, good! I don’t have to duel you for a part.” He almost instinctively starts playing a snip from “Ten Duel Commandments” to underline the comment, but catches himself. He is, after all, trying not to blow his cover—he’s even consciously suppressing the radio distortion to his voice, he nearly sounds like a normal person. “The feeling’s *entirely* mutual. You’re about the last person I’d expect to try out for a show around here, so far from home!”

And he’s not sure how he feels about it yet. He’s been trying to avoid talking to Valera—can’t get in trouble after interacting with them if they *don’t* interact, can he?—and now here he is doing the opposite of that... but they haven’t started another stupid argument. Yet. “What are you doing if you actually get the part? You’re committing to being in Pentagram City on a near daily basis for—goodness, months at least!”

Valera

They don't know how they feel about seeing him here either. It went from being a fun little spur of the moment tryout before icecream into an UNEXPECTED INTERACTION with A PERSON THEY DON'T KNOW WELL. But no, they have to tamp down on the urge to make their excuses and leave, things would never improve between them if Valera did nothing but avoid him after all.

"IF I get the part! I haven't been in a production in years, I'm rusty compared to plenty of the actors here today, I'm sure." A hand waves, lazy and dismissive. "But if I do pull it off, I've been planning on spending more time in Hell anyway. This is just a convenient excuse."

Alastor

“Hah, I haven’t tried out for a show since—well, since before you were born.” And then, he’d just been doing it as a lark, too—something to attempt to keep his mind occupied. He hadn’t actually *wanted* to be in a production this badly since he lived in New York, before he gave up on making it on Broadway and went into radio. “But how many of *them* can launch into a full musical number at the drop of a hat!”

Valera

Right, it was easy to forget that Alastor was old enough to be their dad. Or Grandpa. Probably? They'd done the math at some point..

"Hatched." They correct on reflex, reaching up to fuss with the feather on their hat. "Who are you trying for? Lafayette? I could see you as a Lafayette." They're saying it because of the French, but they will NOT say that out loud.

Alastor

Great-grandpa, easily. Maybe even great-great grandpa if a few generations got early starts.

His face brightens. “Let’s hope the casting director thinks so, too! Yes, Lafayette and Jefferson—the same actor played them both in the mortal realm, why shouldn’t one person play both down here, too?”

Valera

Great-grandpa Alastor, the spryest old man in the nursing home. Eating the interns when he gets bored... That sounds like a typical older Veci actually.

They hum, looking Alastor up and down in his getup. "You'll get the part, or I'll eat this silly chapeu. I've seen the competition you're up against. They're good, don't get me wrong, but..." A vague gesture at him. "Nobody could compete!"

Alastor

"You flatter me!" All the same, he's beaming widely. "But I was hoping that would be the case, what with when they scheduled auditions. January's a bad time for, well, *most* people's schedules. I'm afraid I missed all but the tail end of your performance—spectacular choice of song, though!"

Valera

"Why thank you! Will Wood doesn't fit the show's theme in the slightest, but it certainly shows my singing chops! Though if I'd planned for this audition I might have gone with an outfit a bit less.. *French*." They grin, shimmying their enormous sleeves. Unrepentant in the slightest. "Might. I could see Washington's doughy self in this getup."

Alastor

Alastor examines Valera’s getup. Was that French? It just looked old-fashioned to him. “Well, hopefully they’re not going to judge based on fashion!” He glances pointedly down at his own outfit.

Valera

Another glance at his outfit, and they give a thumbs up. "You've got a bowtie on, you'll be fine."

Oh. Would it be a supportive friend thing to do to sit and wait for his call with him? Or would that be somehow rude? They couldn't just ask, if it *was* rude he'd probably be offended by the notion, but if it wasn't... Something bad. Probably? Maybe they're being unfair. A quick clearing of the throat, and they gesture towards the door. "Do you want to sit down? I've got time to kill before. Uh... *Mon Cerf Rouge* arrives with my ice cream."

Alastor

*Oh right*, he’s wearing *Valera’s husband’s* bow tie. His hand flies up to cover it as if that will prevent it from being identified, and he quickly forces his hand back down. “Well! I wasn’t going to show up to an audition underdressed, was I?” He laughs thinly. Don’t act suspicious it’s fine.

Is Valera hanging out with another Alastor? He wonders which one. How is it that every version of himself manages to get along with them but him? It wouldn’t be so galling if *none* of them could get along with Valera, but if it’s something he uniquely is doing wrong—no, don’t worry about that right now.

His first inclination is to turn down the offer, they’ve had a cordial conversation so far and he can’t mess it up if it ends right here; but there’s a chance they’re about to both end up in the same show, isn’t there? Polite avoidance might not be an option for long. Better get to work on getting along. “Sure! It’s a bit yet until my turn.”

Valera

What a reaction! They will politely pretend they didn't see him have a miniature panic over being seen wearing Pentious' bowtie. Far too busy inspecting their gloves, for some reason. How convenient.

Well, now they've done it, they're stuck here. Though it's surprising he accepted the offer, maybe it'll be okay? If he really wanted to avoid them he could have turned the offer down. They're probably overthinking it. A quick nod, and then they perch on the edge of a seat so their fuckoff huge tail can actually fit amidst the mounds of ruffles. On the plus side, nobody but Alastor was going to be taking the seats next to them anytime soon, unless they wanted to fight the tide of frills.

Time to.. Get along? Polite chit chat? "Is this the first production of Hamilton in Hell? It's a fairly new musical, and I know there's a bit of a delay getting things down here."

Alastor

“The very first! In fact, this production company is the one that got the first recording smuggled down from the living realm! Online there’s a few amateur recordings of recent arrivals singing the songs they remember, but so far that’s the only presence Hamilton has had in Hell. Anyone who gets in this show has an opportunity to *define* their roles in the eyes of the public.” Oh, he’s getting a little starry-eyed just thinking of it. “I suppose you’ve probably seen the original production in the mortal realm?”

Valera

"I did, though that was long before I met you or I'd have invited you along!" They're going to take the hat off, it's very silly and the feather keeps floating around in the corner of their vision. Plus, now they have something to hold in their hands so they can't start doing anything weird with them. Win win!

Alastor seems genuinely excited about this production, he'd gone through all the effort to get an outfit, come for tryouts.. And they just sauntered in on a whim. Thank the gods they weren't trying out for the same part, Valera would have had to bow out immediately. "I wonder if any of the actual founding fathers have survived long enough down here to see the show. Wouldn't *that* be something?"

Alastor

“Wouldn’t it just! I can’t think of *anything* I’d enjoy more than prancing around on stage making Jefferson look like an absolute damn fool while the real deal seethes in a front row seat!” He laughs. It’s not a terribly friendly laugh. “But I don’t know if any are down here. I don’t pay close attention to that sort of thing—and anyway, most *important* people who end up damned either find themselves on the receiving end of a deluge of assassination attempts or else change their identities fairly fast. A founding father could show up and audition to play as himself and we might not know.” A thoughtful pause. “Although I doubt any of them would get the part.”

Valera

"I'd assume they wound up here, considering the whole owning slaves and starting wars thing. Good PR post mortem doesn't absolve you of shitty behaviors in life, unfortunately." Yes. Very unfortunate. That's why they're grinning so toothily. "Imagine if we got the actual King George on the roster? Though I'd rather see Pentious try for the part, personally." There's no way George was still around, he'd gone batty enough in life that he'd probably wandered onto the nearest angelic spear first thing. But they could dream!

Alastor

“One would hope! But no one’s ever sent me the rule book on what does and doesn’t get you access upstairs, who knows for sure? I can tell you what I think *should* get you down here, but I can’t tell you with complete certainty whether or not it does.”

Oh, his eyes light up at that. “Just imagine him in the full raiment of a king! But no. Getting up on stage to have hundreds of people laugh at him for dressing and acting like royalty? He’d hate it.”

Valera

"He'd look glorious in a crown! But you're right, he'd never want a comic relief role, even if he WOULD get to sing about sending battalions after people." Alas and alack, King George ala Pentious would have to live in their dreams. But they smirk, leaning a fraction closer to Alastor to whisper. "But we might be able to get him to sing it privately, at least, and wouldn't that be lovely?"

Quickly pulling back, they cross one leg over the other and put on that cheerful grin again. "What do you think *should* qualify to send people to Hell, my fine fellow? It's a broad question, so we can skip it if you'd rather not open that can of worms."

Alastor

Wouldn’t it be lovely, indeed. He smiles uncomfortably and glances away.

“Oh, skip it.” He waves a hand vaguely. “I find the topic as sanctimonious as it is futile. It may not be for *you*, perhaps—for you, it’s little more than an interesting thought experiment on alien morality—but for us? What’s the good of debating why people should be damned when we’re *already* damned? It’s not going to help us get out of Hell. God isn’t going to take our suggestions into consideration. All the topic does is make one bitter that the powers that be don’t appear to be judging people to one’s personal moral standards—or else it inspires one to assume that God *is* operating in line with one’s personal understanding of justice, and try to pigeonhole everyone one meets into the crimes one believes are worthy of damnation. I’ve run into countless people down here who *don’t know why* they’re damned—and yet they *are* damned, which means they’ve done something that *is* damnable even if they themselves don’t believe it. If people can’t understand their own sins, how can they be trusted to judge anyone else’s?”

Valera

They lean back as Alastor skips one can of worms for another, watching him as he broke down his reasoning. It was interesting, insightful, even if they didn't have much to say to him in response. He was right, after all. For them it was an alien concept, a novelty to roll around and discard when they were bored, just like so many other human notions. But not everyone was so lucky. A nod of agreement, and they flick their tail.

"You're right. My apologies, Alastor, it's easy to forget how... fortunate I am, to be in the position I'm in." A side eye at the other actors, who PROBABLY couldn't hear the conversation, but even so. "Something lighter, then. Have you had a chance to work on restoring your deathday gift yet? You did a fine job with Alexander, he's as glossy as the day you *finished* him."

Alastor

“Oh, that’s just to be expected. How many people have a chance to measure their lives up against the dead and damned, anyway? We’re not given opportunities to interact with anyone but our fellow prisoners and our jailers, and that’s by design.” He’s occasionally side-eyeing the other actors himself, but none seem to be paying attention.

“Oh—yes! Cleaned out the guts and got off the worst of the grime of age. I need to get a few cleaning supplies to finish the job, but soon the both of them will be spick and span!” Look at him beaming, the proud father. “How *is* Alexander? I wanted to talk to him while visiting your place, but his time seemed to be monopolized by someone else the whole trip!” He really did feel bad about that. He feels like he’s got something a duty to Alexander, but so far he hasn’t been able to meet it.

Valera

This was a MUCH better topic. Radios and mutual friends, much safer. They let their shoulders relax under the jacket, chirping as their fins waggle. "I'm sure they'll be as good as new by the time you're done with them, mon collègue. You'll have to show me how they come out. A beautiful antique is always twice as radiant when restored with care, and those radios were gorgeous."

Ah.. Alexander. Their face twists, a frown tugging at the corners of their mouth. "Alexander is.. alright, I suppose. Nothing terrible has happened, and I've been trying to work with him on his manifestations with generally mixed to positive results." They shrug, sighing through their nose. "I think he misses other humans. Or former humans, I suppose. We get along well, but he'll see something and start talking about.. Ponzi? Or his mother writing to him from the" Airquotes here as they squint "Dust Bowl?" What the fuck is a dust bowl? They don't know, it sounds like something a chinchilla would roll in. "And he loses me completely."

Alastor

“I’ll have Vaggie take pictures some time.”

Alastor’s eyebrows shoot up. “That poor man got tangled up with Ponzi *and* the dust bowl? Goodness, what an unfortunate life he lived! But you’re right, he really needs more humans to talk to, doesn’t he? I’ll—“ A pause, and then he says thoughtfully, “I’ll see whether I can contact him myself. If not, I’ll let you know and we’ll arrange a play date. If it works, though—you’ll probably hear about it from him.”

Valera

Contact Alexander himself? Valera opens their mouth to ask how, then it clicks. Right, radio to radio transmissions. Could Alastor reach radios outside of Hell? Maybe it would be easier if the radio was haunted, a bit closer to the fuzzy boundaries between Heaven, Hell, and Earth. Or, Okkylk in this case. Hm.

"I'll take your word for it, I haven't got the foggiest about what either of those are. What the *devil* is a Ponzi?" They've heard "Ponzi Scheme" said in movies, but maybe it wasn't even the same Ponzi! Maybe Ponzi was a normal human thing. Like a brand, they do love their brands... "But thank you. I think he'd benefit from having more than one very alien being to talk to."

Alastor

“Charles Ponzi! A con artist! He convinced a whole slew of people to give him a mountain of money to invest in what he claimed was some post office money-making scheme and that he’d double their money in a month or two. Instead, he pocketed the money, convinced *another* slew of people to give him money for the same scheme, used that money to pay off the first wave of suckers—and rinse and repeated until he’d scammed thousands and stolen millions! Spent a few years in prison, got out and tried another scheme, got arrested in dear old New Orleans trying to flee the country! You knew you weren’t going to be bored any time he showed up in the papers!” Alastor loves a good con artist story. “The Dust Bowl, I missed myself—just a little bit after my time—but from my understanding it was a big drought in the middle of the States that dried out a bunch of farmland. Lot of farming families starved those years.” Alastor loves a good con artist, but starving people are just sad.

Valera

This Ponzi guy should have gone into politics, hot damn. Valera makes a low whistle, nodding their approval. "That DOES explain why he thought about Ponzi, we were talking about the weird political scams my predecessor left me on the hook for when I snuffed him out. Though I think that Charles there pulled it off with more flair than that bird brain ever could have. What a character! I've got to respect that kind of daring."

Probably best not to comment too much on the dust bowl, that sounds like a downer. But, they did bring it up, and if they're talking about Alexander.. "That does explain it. I believe his family was based in that middle area." A nod, and they immediately jump to something less negative. "Let him prattle on at you about his electronics store, he'd love it. The man talked my fins off for twenty minutes about something called a Perikon Detector a regular asked him to order and I STILL don't understand why he was so exasperated about it."

Alastor

“Oh, did he ever have flair! There’s a story I heard about when news of his scams started hitting the papers—all his investors swarmed his offices to demand their money back, he went around to them one by one offering coffee and donuts and smiles, and charmed them so well they *left* their money with him!” Alastor laughs.

Perikon Detector? Alastor stares off into space a moment, trying to dig the term out of nearly-century-old memories. “... Probably because Perikon Detectors were replaced by vacuum tubes before ninety percent of the nation ever even *heard* of radios. What the hell did someone want a Perikon Detector?”

Valera

They laugh, clapping their hands together. Charles Ponzi, was it? They'd have to look the fellow up later just to see the details of his escapades, maybe forward the information to a certain lawyer they knew. But for now, their potential costar has been oddly silent..

Alastor in a state of blank befuddlement was a rare treat, and one that Valera enjoyed while they could before he seemed to snap back into focus with his scrabbled knowledge in hand. "You'll have to ask him for specifics, but judging by the choice of insults, this person had a habit of asking for obscure, outdated parts rather frequently. Maybe a collector? Upcycler?" They shrug. "I still have no idea what a Perikon Detector IS. It sounds like a little bauble they'd use in a bad sci-fi show."

Alastor

“Well, it detects perikons, obviously!” He pauses. Dead silence. “Right, forgot I gave the laugh track the afternoon off. You at least know what vacuum tubes are, right? They, uh...” Has Alastor ever actually learned what it is, *exactly,* that vacuum tubes do. He knows how to use them. He knows how to tell which one he needs. He’s put them in radios. He’s *made* radios. But his eyes glaze over whenever he tries to learn what exactly it is the electricity *does* in there.

“Well,” he says confidently, “they control electrons, you see. You’re not getting very far in electronics if you can’t control electrons.” There’s a smattering of laughter. “Shut up, you’re all on break. Anyway, you’ve got vacuum tube radios and crystal radios—there’s a crystal in a Perikon Detector, see—and vacuum tube radios actually need some electricity to power them—which means you’ve got enough electricity to also power a speaker. Crystal radios are powered only by the very radio waves they pick up, but you’ve got to squeeze headphones against your face to hear it—so not very useful if you want to use a radio while doing anything but sitting in one spot very quietly with your hands over your ears. A Perikon Detector is just one brand name of crystal detectors that pick up radio waves.”

Valera

Alastor's initial joke is delivered, and Valera rather wished it hadn't been. In fact, they'd like to file a formal complaint with the verbal post office, they seem to have delivered an auditory assault instead of pleasantries. Silence reigns between them, oppressive and all consuming like an unjust monarch, three eyes staring silent judgement at the Radio Demon for his awful, terrible, no good dad joke levels of comedy. Jingle the bells on your little jester hat, old man-- Oh wait, he's talking again.

Valera stops squinting, rolling their eyes with a groan. He's still telling bad jokes. Those are only funny when YOU'RE the one telling them, the bastard. But they're going to completely gloss over his evil sense of humor and focus on the technical talk, and if there's a little upward twitch of their lips it's his imagination. Shut up. Dad jokes aren't funny. "Interesting! I'd never even heard of a crystal radio before, humans upgrade their technology so quickly that it makes the mind reel. One of their.. Your? Finer features."

Alastor

Alastor is goddamn hilarious and a gift to the microphone and the world is better for him and his humor having been in it, if we’re not counting those murders he did. “It *is* one of our more impressive parlor tricks! Although, truth be told, only one we picked up in the last century or so!” A pause. “Last *two* centuries. I keep forgetting the 1820s aren’t a hundred years ago. Anyway, we’ve really picked up the pace lately, relatively speaking! I once heard someone say—I don’t know how he knows, but I’m sure someone looked it up—that for several thousand years, the human *pelvis* evolved faster than the plowshare! And then all of the sudden, boom! Factories! Steel! Trains! Airships! Radio! How did people before the nineteenth century not bore themselves to death, I’ll never know.”

Valera

Valera cocks their head to the side, mind casting back. "From what I recall about sixteen hundreds France from my earliest visits, there was a lot of interpersonal drama and dying from preventable diseases to keep people busy. Much less interesting than the industrial revolution. Though the water was also a lot *cleaner* back then." A dissatisfied scoff. "Late eighteen hundreds London was a foul, foul place. Only went once and I had a cough for a week."

Alastor

"Oh, *that's* right! *Human drama!* Entertainment at its purest! I would have been an insufferable gossip, I'm sure." His smile broadens with satisfaction at figuring out what he would have done before radio.

Valera

"Oh don't sell yourself short, Alastor. I'm sure given the chance, you could be an insufferable gossip now, too!" They flutter their lashes dramatically, fanning themselves with their hat as they titter like a fine court damsel. Okay, enough of that. "They should be calling you soon, no?"

Alastor

“You flatter me! If more people shared gossip with me, I *would* be!”

Oh, right. He’s here for the first audition he’s cared about since dying. He sits up a little straighter, ears almost lifting out of his absurd disguise hair as he strains to listen to the current audition on stage. Sounds like it’s wrapping up. “Probably.” He looks down at his printed lyrics again and, predictably, forgets how to read.

Valera

Valera glances at Alastor's paper, humming as their hands rest on their hat. Was he *nervous*?

"Are you nervous?" Wait they said that out loud didn't they. Well, shit. Better commit. "What did you say you were doing again? The Major General's Song?"

Alastor

He's gonna ignore the hell out of that first question. "Yes, Modern Major General—and I learned a couple of songs from the show, more or less. I don't know what they're going to ask for. I figured at a minimum Modern Major General would show I can sing fast enough for the parts, if they don't want anyone to sing from the show."

Valera

If he'd actually answered the question, Valera would have probably accused him of being an imposter. Alastor wasn't known for admitting to his emotions unless you happened to be a Victorian steampunk snake, and even then. A sigh, and they lean back in their seat as much as their tail allows. "They let me sing Will Wood, so I think your selection should be perfectly sufficient. You even went with another musical theater song!"

Valera

Even then, he only just sort of failed to deny straightforward accusations. Kind of like what he just did. "I'm glad I didn't go with Will Wood," he mutters.

Yep, there's no more singing or talking from the stage, they're definitely wrapping up. Any second now.

Valera

It sounds like Alastor's turn is coming up, and good timing on that. They had no idea how to respond to his mutterings beyond pointing out that no casting director in Hell was likely to have heard of a semi obscure avant-garde jazz musician. Which might not even be accurate, maybe he was popular down here.

Out comes the phone, the ultimate distraction to ignore a potentially awkward silence. Better to end the talk on a positive-ish note, considering they're going to be seeing this garishly dressed man on the daily for possibly months. Sit next to one Alastor, text another, barely suppress snorts when the second gets confused about "phish food" being an ice cream flavor. As a fish does.

Alastor

The most recent actor comes backstage again, and another demon calls, “Next, uh... Lass?”

Alastor hops to his feet. “That’s me! That’s my name.” He turns to Valera. “Stage name. Drag name, usually, but as long as I’ve got the hair and the dress today—Anyway!” He claps a hand on Valera’s shoulder. “Tell me to break a leg!”

Valera

They glance up from their phone at the name call, sliding their eyes back down as Alastor hops up. Off he goes then? Maybe not, he's talking now, they should respond--

They make a very undignified BWAGH at the unexpected touch, hat flying off their lap as their whole body jumps. Then immediately pretends it didn't happen, clearing their throat noisily. What? No, they didn't just jump out of their scales. "Break a leg, Alastor."

Alastor

*Wheeze.* He doesn’t apologize but he *does* quickly take his hand back, which is probably as close as they’re gonna get from him. “Thanks!” He startled the hell out of someone and got a quick laugh out of it, that does something to steady his nerves. He folds up his lyrics, tucks them away god-only-knows-where, and strides out. Showtime!

Valera

Valera watches him go, shaking their head as they stand. Well, that's one radio demon out of their hair. Time to go willingly throw themselves at another one! The hat is plucked off the floor, and off they go. Not too shabby a day, not too shabby at all.

#chat log #autokrates

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caelum-in-the-avatarverse · 4 years

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Written for Kataang Week 2020. Prompt - Heritage/Responsibilities.

The morning after escaping the pirates, Katara studies the waterbending scroll, and Aang considers loss.

~~~

My Kataang Week entries are turning out to be a sort of Fluff-Angst-Fluff-Angst sandwich. Don't worry, tomorrow's fluff again!

Title shamelessly taken from Things We Lost In The Fire, which is a great song for anything victimized-by-the-Fire-Nation related. Is that song old enough that filching lyrics from it for titles could be considered Fandom Retro by now? I never got to go at it the first time around so I don't care either way lol.

Warnings for talk of genocide.

Enjoy!

~~~

Katara tucked the waterbending scroll away in one of the saddlebags and didn’t touch it again for the rest of the day. Aang had Appa fly as fast and as far as he could, heading northeast, away from the sea and further inland where hopefully neither the Fire Prince nor the pirates would be able to follow them. In the evening they camped beside a small river that was too shallow for a boat to navigate, feeling secure in their escape.

The next morning, Aang woke to find Katara carefully shifting her weight through the stances of the single whip, a stream of water floating beside her hands. The riverbank was a carpet of brown stones and pebbles that crunched under her feet with every movement, and the moon above her was a waning gibbous, hanging over the hills in the gray morning sky.

“Good morning,” Aang said, floating to Katara’s side. He approached carefully - yesterday her water whips had been all over the place, and she was still learning.

“Morning,” she said, her eyes darting to the waterbending scroll she’d left open on a log. It wasn’t a very good angle for glancing at. Aang picked it up and helpfully held it up. “Thanks.” She shifted into the next stance, the water following.

Aang watched her make the next few moves before asking, “How does it feel?”

“Like I have no idea what I’m doing,” she admitted, fumbling as she tried to figure out how to move her arms from one position to the next. The result wasn’t very graceful.

“That’s normal when you’re learning,” Aang said, cheerful. “You’ve just got to build up the muscle memory. Once you’re used to the movements, they’ll come easily.” He watched her nearly trip over her own feet, and said, “It’s okay, Katara.”

“It’s not okay,” she blurted, and the water spasmed in mid-air.

Aang’s smile faltered.

“It’s just - I should already know this,” she said, looking at her water. “But I don’t. These moves are - they don’t look super advanced, and I’m still having problems with them. It feels like I’m missing things. Warm-up stretches, katas, beginner exercises - but I don’t know this stuff.”

Aang gave her a sympathetic look. “Katara, it’s not your fault no one was around to teach you.”

“I know it’s not,” she said. “It’s the Fire Nation’s.”

Katara and Sokka didn’t talk much about the specifics of what had happened to the Southern Water Tribe in the last hundred years. Aang remembered the place as it used to be - dozens of distinct tribes with their own territories and cultures that tended to move with the seasons. They’d also had some permanent villages, trading posts, and one large town clustered around a main harbor where all the tribes could gather and the rest of the world would dock and do business. Generally speaking though, the Southern Water Tribes had always been rather nomadic.

But the tiny village Aang had seen wasn’t the summertime hunting camp of nomads, only meant to house a few dozen people between hunts. It’d been the last refuge of a society stretched too thin.

“Aang,” Katara said softly, “when I got angry, and...selfish...over the scroll…”

“It’s okay, Katara,” Aang said. “You’ve already apologized.”

“Right, but - that’s not what I’m getting at.” She fiddled with the water between her arms. “I was upset because everything came so easily to you, but I’m the last Waterbender of the Southern Water Tribe and I just...couldn’t get it. I couldn’t get my element to work with me. And I have to learn this, I’ve wanted to learn this my entire life. Not just for me, but for my family, my tribe…”

She trailed off. Aang gave her an encouraging look. “You know,” he said, “for someone who never had a teacher, or even seen waterbending that wasn’t yours in action...you did manage to figure out a lot on your own. Learning bending moves isn’t even easy when you have a teacher - but you did it without one!”

She smiled weakly. “Thanks.” She idly moved her hands away from each other and back in, stretching out the water between them.

“It’s a shame I didn’t learn waterbending before I got frozen in that iceberg,” Aang mused. “Then I could teach you!”

Katara shrugged. “It’s okay,” she said. “I can manage.” She stretched the water out again and peered at the scroll in Aang’s hands, which he held up obligingly. “I just...kind of wish this was a Southern Tribe scroll, instead of a Northern one.”

Aang blinked. “Uh...why?”

“They took our Waterbenders away,” Katara said. “All of them. That part of our culture, our way of life...it’s gone.”

“We’ll find you a teacher, Katara.”

“We will,” she agreed. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad we got this scroll. And I’m going to work really, really hard to catch up on everything I’ve missed when we find a teacher. But...Gran Gran told me once that Southern style waterbending is different from Northern style. She couldn’t explain how, but she knew Waterbenders so it must be true, and...there’s no one who could teach me the Southern way. It’s...gone.” She gestured at the scroll. “This, and everything we’ll learn from a teacher - it’ll all be Northern-style waterbending.”

“...Oh,” Aang said softly, and he suddenly had to sit down on the log, the scroll going limp in his hands.

“Aang?”

“We had four Air Temples,” he said. He had to get the thought out quick, before it overwhelmed him. There were so many things about his people’s deaths that he was still coming to terms with - either because he didn’t want to think about it, or because he hadn’t had the realization yet. This was one of those realizations. “North, South, East, and West. We were all the same people, and we moved around a lot, but they were all...different.”

The nuns at the Western Air Temple had perfected the trick of walking upside down on the ceiling and had always laughed at anyone who tried and failed to mimic them. The Northern Air Temple had been home to many sky bison polo champions who’d known all sorts of athletic tricks. The Eastern Air Temple had been renowned for weaving the softest clothing and blankets from bison fur. The Southern Air Temple had grown a hybrid of apple that could turn such a dark purple it was almost black.

Aang didn’t know how to do any of that stuff. He was an airbending master, but he didn’t know everything. And now he never would.

You couldn’t fit the entirety of a culture into a single person.

He was distantly aware of water splashing to the ground, and then Katara was sitting beside him, blue eyes wide with shared grief. She pulled him in for a hug, clutching him tightly, one lost culture to another. “I’m so sorry, Aang.”

Aang thought of the traditional choreographed sky dances his people would perform at festivals, all careful drops and fancy spins and steps he’d never thought to learn because he’d always thought there’d be time later, and choked out, “Me too.”

~~~

Thanks for reading! Kudos and comments are always appreciated. <3

I always feel for Katara in The Waterbending Scroll. The girl has a very powerful gift that is an extremely important part of her, but she doesn't know how to use it and she's desperate enough to figure it out that she steals from some very dangerous people. And she gets upstaged by a younger kid who's never consciously waterbended before, after a lifetime of dealing with the fact that she is her tribe's only connection to this lost piece of themselves, and being belittled for her efforts to learn it. She was pretty mean, but I can see where the frustration was coming from.

And I always feel for Aang literally all the time because good god that boy truly did lose everything. There are so many Air Nomad things that will never be brought back, or at the very least will never be the same. Food, art, music, stories, knowledge...so much a twelve-year-old wouldn't know. :(

Black apples are a thing! Black Diamond apples are only grown in Nyingchi, Tibet, where the high UV light and cooler night temperatures turn the apple skins a very dark purple, nearly black. The apples are a variety of huaniu apple, which is a hybrid made from ten OTHER varieties of apples. They're extremely rare and are only found in high-end Chinese grocery stores, usually in gift baskets. There are also black apples grown in the US, the Arkansas Black, but they aren't as dark as the Black Diamonds. They also need to spend a few months in storage before they're ready to eat, so all the time and work needed before you can sell them means lots of farmers don't bother with them.

#kataang week #atla fanfic #avatar fanfiction #aang #katara #caelum writes

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tuna-crossing · 4 years

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hi you guys! wow. it feels weird being back on here. it has been. AGES.

i just wanna start off with an apology. i disappeared for so long with no explanation that i feel like owe it to you guys to say sorry. (this is boutta become r e a l awkward if no one even remembers me haha) life got extremely crazy, and that’s just a part of growing up i suppose. with new horizons coming out soon, i realized how much i missed the community, and decided to log back in. it’s nice to be back.

as for the future direction of this blog, i think it’s safe to say that my days of re-posting art from pixiv are over. no matter if i ask for permission from artists, but i simply do not have the time anymore and to be honest, the entire concept of re-posting just doesn’t sit well with me anymore either. that’s part of growing up too.

still, i wanna revive this blog, even just a little bit, for acnh. i started this blog for new leaf, and it seems fitting that i come back for new horizons. i missed seeing you all on my dash (even if we never really interacted heh).

that’s all i have. expect reblogs of pokemon and ac art still, but also a whole lot more thoughts and general adventures with new horizons. i hope a few are able to stay, and if not, thank you for the support throughout the years! love you guys 🥰

#see you in new horizons!#text

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xxairo-dev · 4 years

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Next Log

So I started making a 2D pixel art game. Welcome to my new Dev blog!

No official name, but the unofficial name is Bowfish.

(TLDR and Dev log with pretty gifs at bottom)

Hello internet, friends, and 2020 -- those of you that have been following me all this time know that I’ve been doing art for a loooong time. Even before I got into digital art in 2010, I’ve been drawing with paper and pencil for as long as I can remember and probably started playing video games right at the same time. For reference, my earliest memories of video games consist of Lemmings 3D on PS1, followed shortly by Rayman and Spyro the Dragon.

I’m still a big Spyro fan, also pretty sure this is how I became obsessed with dragons in general.

Science based dragon MMO girl, wherever you are -- I feel you, I am you.

Basically, I’ve been playing video games all my life (to the detriment of my parents) and I owe it to gaming for igniting my early artistic ambitions. In fact, I remember learning how to draw by copying the character art of Neopets and Sonic Advance before one day stumbling upon one of my dad’s Game Informer magazines and being blown away by the art that I saw in there (particularly the WoW art). I’m pretty sure that was when I was first introduced to Big Boy™ game art and instantly thought, “Whoa, I want to be able to draw like that”.

Later, when I got my first drawing tablet and started making digital art, it became “I want to draw for a video game”.

Even later, when I learned that being a video game artist was not a very realistic career path and opted to pursue a bachelors degree in biology instead of art, it became “I want to draw for a video game... on the side”.

Even later-er, when I got my degree in 2017 and started working full-time and realized that work saps you of all energy and motivation to work on projects at home, it became “I want to draw for a video game... some day”.

Well, today here we are in 2020 amid the COVID-19 pandemic. In March, I got furloughed from my biology job due to the quarantine. I spent four months passing time, thinking that I’d go back to work soon. But by the end of July, I was at wit’s end of what to do with myself after getting burnt out on a number of hobbies, games, shows, books, etc. without spiraling into some very expensive hobbies (hello aquariums) with the money I wasn’t making. I badly needed to find something productive to do that I thought would also benefit me in the long run i.e. post-quarantine, and unfortunately I couldn’t work on wet lab techniques at home.

“Learn to code” is what my parents have said to me about a thousand times for the past 5 years. “Learn to code” is what I did try for about two weeks with Code Academy a few years ago before realizing that none of what I was learning was going to stick because I wasn’t programming in any part of my daily life. As a biologist, in evolution we like to call this “if you don’t use it, you lose it”.

I know all too well about how coding is one of the best skills you can learn. However, I also know myself all too well to know that learning code for the sake of learning code wasn’t going to work for me. I wanted to wait to learn when the right situation presented itself, ideally when I would have an opportunity to use it almost every day at like a job or something.

Well, one of my good fellow artist (and biology) friends had recently taken the plunge into creating his first video game Meganura earlier in the year. I was (and still am) seriously -- and I cannot emphasize this enough -- impressed by his progress, dedication, and ability to learn coding for this game. Or more frankly, I was seriously impressed by his dedication and progress in to learning how to code for this game.

Meganura in all it’s crispy pixel-y goodness. Man, my friends are talented.

I dwelled on this for a while.

I always considered making a game to be out-of-reach because I absolutely could not muster up the motivation to learn a single drop of code without being paid to do so after 1) being beaten over the head by “learn how to code” for so long and 2) having already tried and given up in the past.

But as it got harder to sleep well, eat well, and feel happy during the quarantine, I feel like I hit a rock bottom where I felt like if I didn’t make a big effort to find a new purpose, then I was probably going to become depressed. To preface this, I have experienced depression before, and ever since I got out it has been my goal in life to never experience it again.

The only way I was going to survive this quarantine was to give myself a new “job”.

I already had a creative mind and the skills to create art and animations for a game. I already had a lifetime of game playing experience that had formed a detailed list of specific mechanics and visual details that I knew I wanted or didn’t want in a game. I already had an analytical and detail-oriented mind (thanks biology... or thanks videogames?) that liked to plan and build things.

All it would take is just a little bit of code...

If you’ve read this far, thanks for listening and I hope some of you hear yourselves in my story.

TLDR;

I am just a daytime biologist and hobby digital artist with zero coding experience.

I’m extremely proud to say that since 07/29/20, I have been successfully developing and coding my own 2D pixel art video game in Unity and am in full swing!

This is the start of my dev blog, where I’ll be logging my progress and thoughts throughout this journey for like-minded and aspiring individuals.

My Goals:

- To create everything from scratch -- art, scripts, etc.

- To create a game about bow hunting with intuitive drag/release controls

- To create a game that has cooking and campfires

- To create a game with pretty water graphics

- To create a game that has sushi and cats

- To have a playable demo by mid 2021 (my guess for the end of quarantine)

How I’ve been learning C#:

I have been following along with YouTube tutorials to create a base script and then looking up things in Unity’s scripting documentation to expand and modify my code to achieve exactly what I want. I’ve been learning C# and how to read documentation through almost entirely pattern recognition (e.g. mimicking and experimenting with code I’ve copied from tutorials and recognizing keywords in documentation) and turning to Google or my Tech Career Peers™ for help when I get stuck or to clarify things.

The key thing is that even after copying some code, I read the documentation and figure out how every line of code in my script works before moving on.

This is because after spending a few days of looking up YouTube tutorials, I realized there were no tutorials for the exact bow controls that I wanted. Instead, I ended up watching multiple tutorials and learned how all of their scripts worked before combining and modifying pieces together. Then, I started relying entirely on documentation to write lines of code.

I don’t know how many original lines of code I’ve written so far, but there are so many now and I am so proud of all of them.

So anyway, here’s what’s happened over the past 2-3 weeks.

Dev Log:

7/29/20

- Came up with an idea for a game

7/30/20

- Installed Unity and started watching Unity tutorial videos

7/31/20

- Created water shader via shader graph (no coding required!)

- Created a basic background, player sprite, bow sprite, and arrow sprite in Photoshop

08/03/20

- First time coding in C#

- Struggle to code in Notepad++, switched to Visual Studio Code

08/06/20

- Created physics based slingshot controls for the bow and arrow with a line renderer bowstring

- Colliders!

08/09/20

- Unable to find a way to pull arrow back horizontally (-X) regardless of mouse Y movement (OnMouseDown)

- Decided that slingshot controls are for slingshots, not bows and arrows

- Scrapped physics based slingshot controls due to overcomplication (rip)

08/10/20

- Created new projectile based controls that still include drag/shoot physics

08/11/20

- Limited rotation of the bow while aiming to max 45° and min -45°

- Developed distaste for vector algebra

- Made it so that if you don’t drag far enough, you won’t release an arrow

08/12/20

- Created a trajectory line coming off the bow

- Made arrows fade away after colliding

- Created git repository to keep all project files backed up on github (Don’t wait to do this! Should’ve been done on day 1)

08/14/20

- Added physics and collider to player

- Allow you to face and move left/right with the A and D keys + updated bow controls to match

- Created left/right movement while aiming + updated bow controls to match

- Created mouse drag line for development use

- Created waterline

- Made it so the bow resets to it’s default position if you haven’t used the bow for over 2 seconds

08/15/20

- Updated Player sprite in Photoshop

- Obtained Asesprite

- Created walk animation

08/16/20

- Created bow walk, bow equip, and bow unequip animations

Next Log

#game design #game dev blog #game dev #game dev update #indie game #pixel art #pixel animation #bowfish #meganura

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purplesurveys · 4 years

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688

Have you today?

Looked in a mirror? Not on purpose. We just have several mirrors in the house that I unavoidably pass by and look at.

Watered a plant? Not today, but my dad has asked me to do it a couple of times in the last week.

Worn denim? I haven’t worn outside clothes in almost a monthhhhh. And that includes denim.

Washed your hair? Technically yes. I took a shower at around 1 AM? before heading to bed.

Been in pain? Kind of. My left eye has been irritating me almost every night/morning since the year started; sometimes it gets incredibly swollen, sometimes it just feels like something is stuck in my eyelid. Either way it’s always uncomfortable and painful.

Had a nap? Haha, not yet. But since the lockdown started I’ve been having an afternoon siesta everyday. Brushed your teeth? Yeah, it came along with the ^ above 1 AM shower. Kissed someone? I haven’t been able to kiss my girlfriend in almost three weeks now and I’m miiiiiserable. Used a cheese grater? Nah, I haven’t used one in a while.

Eaten something sweet? Not yet. I might eat a few pieces of chocnut later though. Spoken to a stranger? Not today, but we did have a village guard knock on our door earlier to give my dad a quarantine pass – it’s to confirm that he’ll be the only one in the family allowed to leave the house in case we need to go to the groceries or something. I peeked by the front door to listen to the interaction, but I didn’t speak with the guard myself. Dropped something? Sure. My bottle of eye drops. Felt upset in some way? You can say that. There’s a new trend on Facebook where groups are created so certain universities can just trashtalk one another as a joke. It was funny at first but there are some posts that have gone too far, personal, or both, and it obviously hasn’t been good for my mental health lol. Drank coffee? Not yet today. I usually have it in the evening. Walked for more than thirty minutes? I also haven’t walked much in three weeks. That’s kinda what’s supposed to happen when your entire city is put on lockdown. Signed up for something? No. I’ve logged in to certain sites, though. Travelled in a car? I also haven’t been in a car in the last couple of weeks. I was able to ride with my dad the night before they imposed the lockdown – we were visiting my grandpa in the columbary because it would’ve been his 80th birthday that day. Opened a can? Nope. Thought about doing something crazy? At the back of my head I always think of driving up to see Gab because I miss her a lot, but it just remains a crazy thought in my head. Listened to a new song? Yeah. I have a couple of saved playlists and I don’t know like 94% of the songs in both of them, so I’m always listening to a new song everyday. Written in a notebook? I haven’t. I’ve written on a piece of paper, though. Fed an animal? Yup, my dog needs his breakfast. Checked your emails? LOL NOPE, and I don’t plan to check them any time soon. Told someone you love them? Yeah, before we both turned in at like 3 AM lol. Made a phone call? Yeah I also called my girlfriend earlier.

Have you in the last week?

Update: I skipped this survey the whole day and now it’s 10:30 in the evening, and I’ve already done a bunch of stuff I said no ^ to earlier lmao but am too lazy to change. Let’s gooooooo

Travelled on a bus? Nah. The bus personally isn’t my main mode of transpo and I only get to ride them when I’m in a group and there’s no choice but to ride a bus, like for field trips or for group itineraries during vacations.

Washed your face? Yeah. I did this today because my face was feeling annoyingly oily. Put a face mask on for the first time in a long time.

Used a blender? No. I don’t think we even have a blender at home, cos no one ever makes stuff that needs to be blended.

Received a phone call? Sure. Gab and I called several times in the last week, and my grandma has also called from time to time to check up on us because the lockdown has kept us from seeing her regularly.

Talked to someone you dislike? I...don’t think so. If I did I’d definitely talk to Gabie about it, and I haven’t done that with her haha.

Consumed alcohol? Ugh, bleck. Yeah. I wanted to get buzzed last week and a bottle of Jack Daniel’s is the only thing we have in the house so I had a small sip and just... disgusting. Whiskey is just not my thing, so never again.

Eaten pasta? Spot on. We had spaghetti for dinner tonight.

Planned for an event? There is no event to plan, and it’ll stay like this for the next 3-4 months probs.

Asked someone for a favour? Sure, I asked Gab to be the one to write the write-up that’s going to be on my college yearbook.

Watched something funny? I’ve been watching tons of these to fight off boredom during the break.

Trimmed your nails? Yep, they were getting long and uncomfortable so I got rid of them.

Browsed Reddit? Also yep. School kept me busy for a couple of months and I wasn’t able to use Reddit then because I’d usually pass out by evening. But right now I have more than enough time to browse it, so I’ve been doing some catching up.

Talked to yourself? I guess? Not as much as before the lockdown though, because I’ve already been usually by myself throughout this break, and don’t feel the ~need to talk to myself.

Purchased tickets for something? Nah. They cancelled almost all future events up until May or June...there’s no tickets to be bought at all to begin with.

Felt like you were annoying someone? Meh, it happens every now and then.

Cleaned a toilet? I’ve never done this at all.

Reminisced about the past? LMAO yeah. Someone created a Facebook group that lets alumni from my high school just shit-talk the school and bring back (and reveal) old drama, scandals, and controversies. It’s hilarious, it hasn’t pissed me off, and past students exposing teachers who turned out to be trash and/or perverts is so satisfying.

Used headphones? I haven’t had headphones in a while.

Laughed with a friend? Yeah, but just virtually. I haven’t heard most of my friends’ voices in a while.

Cooked dinner and then didn't feel hungry? Nah. I HAVE helped my dad make dinner a few times this week, which is like huge baby steps for me in learning how to cook haha.

Written a list? I don’t think I have in the last week.

Played an instrument? Nope. Felt jealous or envious? It happens. Ignored a text message on purpose? Lol yeah I guess. There were times I got fed up with Gab being such a slow replier that when she replies, I stopped wanting to open my inbox. Congratulated someone? I just did! UP’s med school results were released a few hours ago and I congratulated my friend Michelle for passing. Her decision was super clutch – she initially passed med school as early as high school but she declined it so she can take journalism instead, because it’s what she thought she liked at the time. Four years into the course and she realizes she hated it, so she made the really clutch decision to review for med school exams and she ended up passing every single one she took, UP being the icing on the cake. Honestly I wish I had balls like her.

Have you in the last month?

Made a piece of art? I don’t think so.

Rewatched one of your favourite tv shows or movies? I rewatch Friends at least once or twice a month, so ya got me there.

Called a plumber? We haven’t needed to do this.

Been to a see a doctor? Yup, an optometrist. Something’s been going on with my left eye for a while, so I went in to have a checkup a couple of weeks ago.

Finished a book? I did :o I had to read an entire book to make an essay for my business news class. It’s an investigative piece on the fast food industry, which I honestly dig, so I didn’t have a hard time reading and finishing it.

Had a crush on someone? Sure.

Travelled on a train? Definitely haven’t done this at all, except for that one time three years ago when I had to do it with Jum to go to the House of Representatives in Manila.

Worn heels? I don’t think I did, no. Been to a friend's house? Yeah, I was at Gabie’s a couple times before the lockdown started. Shared a bed with someone? ^ Just her. Been to see a movie at the cinema? Haven’t been to since Knives Out last December. Paid attention to celebrity drama? Nah. High school drama though, I’ve been all over that the last couple of days lmao. Felt anxious? I feel it at least once a day. Taken an elevator? Sure. Given someone the cold shoulder? Only when I don’t reply to Gab because she takes too long to reply, lol yeah. It doesn’t last too long though; it’s just a playful tantrum thing. Purchased a new book/game/movie? Nah, I think I find most of my content on YouTube/Netflix anyway. Applied for a job? Hahahahahahahahahahhaha not yet don’t rush me. Used a printer? I don’t think so. Had lunch in a park? But do we have parks at all? Lmaooooooooo Gotten a manicure or pedicure? Definitely not into those. Made an appointment? Ish? If the one with the optometrist counts. Had a blood test done? Not since 2010. Suffered from a major bruise? Lol dude I haven’t moved a lot in the last few weeks, there’s absolutely no reason for me to get a bruise. Researched a topic in-depth? Yes. I am in school, after all.

Have you in the last year?

Been to the beach? Yep, but it’s been a literal year and not less than, and I am haaaaaardcore missing the beach. No idea when I’ll be coming back.

Visited someone in the hospital? No and I hope I won’t have to for now, given what’s been going on.

Played pinball? Ooh I just did earlier this month! Gab and I went to BGC for a whole night of partying, and when everyone went home we stayed so we can go bar-hopping, and there’s a place called Barcade that’s...well, you get the name. ANYWAY they had sooo many vintage arcade games and a couple of pinball machines, and we didn’t waste time playing each of them. It was sooooo fun.

Travelled on a plane? A couple of times.

Worn a costume? I was Dora for Halloween, so yup.

Been thrift shopping? I don’t...think so?

Thought about getting pregnant or got pregnant? Hell no.

Made a big life decision? Not really. Hasn’t everyone’s lives been put on hold because of this stupid virus?

Changed a lightbulb? Never had at all, really.

Framed something and put it on your wall? Nah. I’m not really that kind of person.

Been stargazing? I’ve been doing this a lot recently cos I’ve been staying at the rooftop at night more often. And with everyone at home, the light pollution has been clearing up and the stars have been so much easier to see.

Made a new friend? If the new applicants for our org count, then yes.

Added to a collection? I don’t have any.

Been to the dentist? Oh yeah. I had a really bad toothache throughout December but the dentist took it all away ahhdkjfhdjsfhsf I’m so grateful lmao.

Broken up with someone? Nope.

Held a baby? That’s a bigger nope.

Created a budget? Nah lmao I would never be able to follow it.

Confessed feelings for someone? Already did.

Had surgery of any kind? Nope and I hope I’ll never need one.

Quit a job? Never had a job,

Been in a car accident? NO thank god hahahahahahaha Purchased something worth over a grand? Yep, one of my Christmas gifts for Gabie was well around two grand. Pesos though, so that’s like roughly $40. Been on vacation at least 500km/300mi from home? Yeah, we always do at least one of these when my dad’s home. Applied for an academic course? Does enrolling count? I’m still in college lmao. Had your photo taken by a professional? I had my grad shoot taken last January.

#survey #surveys

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riversnthedesert-blog · 4 years

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Some Real Talk on Hollywood and the Deep Things in Life

Well, I was originally going to slide this in as a Facebook post, but I had this sudden idea to just make it a blog post. The first of many, let’s hope! There have been so many times where I have started to comment/make a post, etc., and then I began writing a novel. But, it’s called Face “book,” so you think it’d be ok, right? Listen, I have thoughts. Don’t you? One thought here, another there, and then my mind be like, “OH! Forgot about that...and YEAH! That, too!”…and a lot of the time it’s easier to just write and get my thoughts out that way rather than speaking it. It’s a relief, man! Write ya mind. It would suffice to say there’s a lot that goes on up there. Better log it quick because as soon as I have something important...here cometh something else. Ah, feelings, the mind, expressions, inner things, brain files....

So, now that you, reader, have become acquainted with my thought processes, because you desperately needed to know...let’s get to the content.

You guys pray for Hollywood. There are some really creepy things going on behind the scenes….and creepy is an understatement, as I’d do well to keep it kosher in my description. Many things would shock you. But if one isn’t awake so to speak…or one isn’t open to hear in full, there’s confusion. If I could compare it to a puzzle: it’s like there’s all these pieces to a big puzzle. And until someone is ready to sit down and actually put it together, it’s just all these random pieces everywhere...and it’s messy and annoying. You must be willing to sit, observe the pieces, and study them because by themselves they don’t fit anywhere. And since you don’t know what to do with it, it just sits there, and never gets connected; the bigger picture never gets seen. This all might seem confusing, because you haven’t yet sat down to solve the puzzle. Let’s me just say...I don’t have 100% of the puzzle solved, but there are certain things that have been brought to light. But if we go back to the puzzle analogy, if you put together enough pieces of a particular part of the puzzle,you may not see all the details, but you see enough to maybe see, “Oh this is puzzle has a cat in it.” In the case for Hollywood, you might get to a place where you’ll say, “Oh, this puzzle has a rat.” It may seem like I am just finding something to poke at or what have you, but listen:

The Bible says, “be sober, be vigilant; because your adversary the devil prowls around like a roaring lion, seeking someone to devour. (1 Peter 5:8)” and in Ephesians 5:8-13, it says, “For you were once darkness, but now you are light in the Lord. Live as children of light (for the fruit of the light consists in all goodness, righteousness, and truth) and find out what pleases the Lord. Have nothing to do with the fruitless deeds of darkness, but rather expose them. It is shameful even to mention what the disobedient do in secret. But everything exposed by the light becomes visible--and everything that is illuminated becomes a light.”

The Bible in different places talk about knowing wisdom (of God), being discerning, and having knowledge. Jesus said in Matthew 10:16, “Behold, I send you out as sheep among wolves, therefore be wise as serpents and gentle as doves.”

With that in mind, it’s important to note that we shouldn’t be unaware of the devil’s schemes. We should know our enemy’s tactics in order to guard against it. So when we see the deception, the lies, the fake news, the idolatry, the game of distraction, and materialism and fame, the plan of the enemy to sway hearts deceitfully and subtly for his kingdom, we are prepared and not caught off guard.

[Later, hopefully, I will try to discuss this more in depth at as it relates to the Antichrist agenda that is at work in the world by globalist leaders.]

Getting to the point here:

Pray for your favorite celebrities. God has an army, but so does the devil. God wants to recruit, but so does the the devil. One is Light, one masquerades as light, but is actually darkness. One is good, one appears good. One is true, one is the counterfeit.

Please hear me. The world’s biggest influencers are definitely a target of Satan because they have the platform to be able to change an entire culture. How does this happen? MUSIC, ART…things that grip the HEART. Things that speak to the deepest places in people, the places of pain, emptiness, woes of many kinds. Why is this such a soft spot for the human race? Why are most songs about love and pain? I mean, why is music the language that everyone understands? We’re about to get into that.

[Disclaimer: I don’t know everything, and I don’t claim to. But with evidence from the Bible (God’s word), and when hings that were once just an idea or only talked about begin blatantly flaunting themselves in plain sight, you tend to not just tuck it away hoping that what you saw wasn’t real. With that being said, here we go.]

It’s not hard to find the answer if you really wanna know (read Matthew 7:7). Our inmost being cries out for LOVE. But, hey man, why does love in this world seem to suck a lot of the time? Could it be that we’re going about it all wrong? Could it be that we’re hitting something, but haven’t quite dug it all up to actually see what it is? Love is real, ok. Love is DEEP and beautiful and poetic and all those things, but love is meant to be JOYFUL, though. Does this world see much real, raw, joyful love? Romanticism? Yes. Infatuation? You bet. Any idea how to sustain a marriage? Look at the divorce rate. What is that all about, my friends? Does anyone know what love is anymore? There are SONGS about this. People want to know, though. Their souls try out to know...WHAT THE HECK IS THIS LOVE THING THAT TAKES ME OVER AND THEN LEAVES ME BROKEN AND WASHED UP ON THE SHORE TO SHRIVEL UP AND DIE?Okay, we’re getting somewhere, but in order to go any further, we must admit: Something is wrong, perverted, amiss, broken, disturbed, frustrated...yet, we gotta have it in order to LIVE. This is crazy revelation, right? Fasten your seat belts, people, and as Samuel L. Jackson said in Jurassic Park, “Hold on to your butts!”

So we have just come to the point of realization that someone is doing something wrong. Right? *heh*

First step. Admitting something is wrong.

But chin up fam, there’s no shame. Because the world’s just trying to do the best they can with what they’ve got. It’s like survival mode. And you know animals when they try to find their food to survive...they kill, they go crazy to get their essentials. Dog eat dog world, am I right? The CARNAL mind. Did you know humans have carnal minds, too? Yeah, it’s a thing. The carnal mind deals with the flesh (aka: how we compensate without God. Doing life without Him...either on purpose or ignorantly. Survival mode, because if I don’t fend for myself, I’m at risk of dying. Fear mode. The twisted mentality that my desire (the heart) has to be met before I am fully satisfied.

And the Bible says, “Those who are in [operating out of] the flesh cannot please God. (Romans 8:8)

K. Well, wait a minute, that sounds rather harsh.

Hold on, though because I’m going to explain and bring more clarity.

What is the opposite of the flesh? You might argue, “So if the flesh is all we know...what the heck, man! Like, I have desires, don’t you? I gotta give up my happiness and all that brings me joy?”

No bruh, not exactly. See, if someone is living in the flesh, they are living in an illusion. The illusion that if they “meet their desires themselves [based on their limited power and understanding as a human being of what it is they want/need]. Living based on the flesh will keep someone in a hopeless cycle of temporary fulfillment which will lead, eventually, to a state of deprivation, disappointment, and (un)fulfillment because they are depriving themselves of the SOURCE of their life.

What’s the source, you ask? Who made you and knows what you truly desire and need; what’s at core of your heart. Who knows how it operates? Who saw your unformed body? (Please friends, I’m begging you to read Psalm 139)

Does God just want take away our desires to rob us of delight and a fun, abundant life, just because? Does He want to see us thrive?

Men, women, young and old, children of all ages. I’d like to introduce you to my Father in Heaven who is a God of GOODNESS. He is Spirit. And the nature of his Spirit are aaalll of these

Love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self control.

God is good. Anything not good is contrary to His nature.

Sin = not good. What is sin? Woah! Another post, for another time.

I have suffieciently dove into the deep end. There are rabbits hopping everywhere because my mind has gone down so many trails to explain this all to you. There’s more.

*Self notes: post to be made on flesh desires and God desires.

[Or read Romans 8]

Wrapping up our discussion with some further thoughts:

If the world doesn’t know the power and love of Jesus, they’re just trying to figure it out and compensate. We did something important earlier. We recognized we have been going about love all wrong. God wants to show us how to do it right, but He won’t force us. Instead, He lovingly leads, allows His children to live out the love they have received through Him. “We love because He first loved us (1 John 4:19-21)” HA! Let me say it again. Love is not to be forced. Not saying that there isn’t sacrifice involved in love because there is, but when it’s properly received and you do it the right way, it looks like Jesus on the Cross.

Gotta go to the Book with this. 1 Corinthians 13. Love.

*All kinds of things are stirring up in me because I know some are going to say to themselves, “well dats the Bible, that ain’t no solid truth. How can you say that’s truth, made made it!” I will explain to all my atheists friends out there one day, but not now because I literally will start writing a novel right here and now. Help, me, Lord. And like a faithful friend, He will.

Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, It is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails. (That’s 1 Corinthians 13:4-8)

So if that’s all the characteristics of love, we can say that those are the characteristics of God, too, because 1 John 4:8 says, “God is love.”

If we are imperfect people, we love imperfectly. But wait just a second here because in 1 John 4, if we read the whole thing, it says

“Beloved, let us love one another, for love is from God, and whoever loves has been born of God and knows God.Anyone who does not love does not know God, because God is love. In this the love of God was made manifest among us, that God sent his only Son into the world, so that we might live through him.In this is love, not that we have loved God but that he loved us and sent his Son to be the propitiation for our sins.Beloved, if God so loved us, we also ought to love one another.No one has ever seen God; if we love one another, God abides in us and his love is perfected in us.”

So if one isn’t a believer in Jesus, like hasn’t received Him as Lord and Savior, then it would be true also to say that they don’t know Love if they don’t know God.

When someone doesn’t know God, because we were made in His image and His likeness (Genesis 1:27, Gen. 9:6), we still have attributes and qualities of God. The Bible also says, “eternity was placed in the human heart, (Ecclesiastes 3:11), people can be without God but still be operating out of the qualities and attributes they were made with. I’m sure God did that intentionally to help us find our way back to “truth north” in the event that we should become lost. What I am saying friends is that people who reject Jesus at this point, choose Atheism, paganism, Gnosticism, and other forms of religion, they still have that eternity void that needs to be filled. And some further discussion on the void of eternity:

Think of eternity as an umbrella…and under the umbrella, there’s

LOVE

MEANING

PURPOSE

TRUTH

If all of these are within the concept of eternity, then all of us have the bent within us to go after them. It’s in us to find these things…because we are trying to get back to our “true north.”

But wait! Because if “true north” is God. How do we know which avenue to God is the right one?

“Oh, boy. You’ve done it now, Lex.”

[to be continued...]

#jesus #hollywood #satanic agenda #truth #darkness #light #awakening #bible #scripture #love #wisdom #peace #world peace #heaven

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heavensentgohansrage · 5 years

Text

Sunflower Marimo

PG-13, 4958 words

Fluff and Crack, Magical Seeds

AO3

So in this post on my main blog I gushed over this adorable work by @kingofalltsunfish and sorta made a promise to write it for her lol

It may have happened almost over two years ago, and the art itself is even much older than that, but I knew I had to do it.

Even if the outcome is all over the place for so many reasons, it’s better now then never.

Sanji has been howling with laughter for the last half an hour, as he keeps understanding more and more the reason behind Zoro’s strange behaviour.

Ever since returning back to the ship at almost the middle of the night, Zoro has refused to leave Chopper’s infirmary, where he has spent the night instead of the boys’ quarter. Then, all throughout breakfast, he proceeded in arguing with Nami about his mysterious need to turn the Sunny against the location of the sun - or, in words of people who actually know how direction works, to turn west - even though the Log Pose is directing to north-east.

Nami eventually agreed, even though he refused to give any explanation whatsoever. Then, it was only when he checked - through more than one window, because, you know, safety first - that the shadows outside were stretched in alignment with the ship’s structure that he rushed from the galley and through the short way that the infirmary created to the backside of the ship.

The crew’s excitement as they followed right after him was short, though, as it turned out he simply had to pee. Looking at each other, the group asked Franky to check if there was something wrong with the ship - although it did not explain Zoro’s secrecy about it - but he quickly found out that everything was just fine.

It was just then when Zoro finally went out, but slowly so, as he opened the door way too carefully, and even then took his time to look around, clearly making sure the ship was still facing the same way as he had asked for. Weirdly enough, it suddenly was not good enough for him to get out, but just shouted that they could now turn it back.

Before Sanji could tell him once more that Nami-san is not one to order around like that, though, Luffy stretched his hand all the way to him, assuring that he would make it quicker for him- and pulled Zoro’s shirt back to him without sparing him a moment to object.

Zoro, as usual, crushed right at Luffy and most of the rest, like Robin-chan, who Sanji had the utmost pleasure to pull away; but as he was bathing in the delight for having her thanking him that, suddenly he heard Zoro grunting.

The instinct to stand guard for his Nakamas overcoming any other nature of his as usual, Sanji cut his blessings off right away and turn to the Marimo-head, who was gritting his teeth and shaking with effort, although there was nothing visible to be affecting him.

Usopp and Luffy were arguing with one another, seemingly sensing nothing themselves, but Sanji activated his Haki anyway, in case some Devil Fruit power was casting on him from afar.

“What are you doing, dumb Cook?”

Sanji blinked back at Zoro, who, weirdly enough, looked completely fine as he was standing quiet and still. Had he seriously stolen his attention for nothing? Was it all just about some stupid bet he filled, considering Zoro never backs down from a promise he makes?

Sanji frowned. “You gotta be kidding me- you weren’t okay just a second ago! Just what’s wrong with you today that you’re acting more weirdly than usual?!”

There was a flash of realization in Zoro’s eye, and suddenly he was giving him the kind of smirk he always has when he uses Sanji to his advantage, although usually it is only for his amusement. “Me? I’m completely fine. You’re the one who imagines things. See?” He stretched his arms to the sides and walked backwards, as though to give Sanji a better look of his entire body.

But then he walked right into Nami, who had returned from the helm on the front of the ship to their side.

“Not only you didn’t watch your mouth that entire morning, but now you don’t even mind crossing others’ paths?!” She rebuked him.

“Yeah, how dare you running into Nami-san so carelessly?” Sanji followed with a yell of his own.

Zoro tsked and scratched his head in annoyance, but Sanji cared even less than the indifferent he would have been anyway about him being sandwiched between the two of them.

“Look at me when I’m talking to you!” She demanded, holding Zoro’s sides and turning him to her.

Zoro grunted again, this time like she was straining all the muscles in his body just by rotating him on his axis. Startled, Nami let go of him- but simply realizing her hands was like letting go of a swing that was spun 180 degrees, as in an instant he was turning his back on her, facing against the backside of the ship.

Everyone silently stared at him for a while, until Chopper started freaking out of the blue.

“Is it- Could it be- Th-that’s bad! Where’s the doctor?!”

“Calm down Chopper and tell us what’s wrong!” Usopp entreated him tiredly.

“Ahh, sorry!” Chopper circled Zoro, who still did not bother to change his position back, to be able to face him. “Zoro, yesterday when we split in the island and you wandered by yourself, did you come across sunflower seeds, or something similar, while exploring the island?”

“Yeah, I helped some old lady carrying her groceries, then the garden kept leading me to her backyards where there were flower plots, so it tempted me to try some. Why?”

Sanji felt a squeeze inside his stomach, but just like every time Zoro’s words affected him like that, he made himself to ignore it. He should know better than react that way to such an idiot who would not admit he got lost in a porch, for fuck’s sake.

“Then it is serious!” Chopper squealed and put both paws on his face.

Sanji patted him on his head, trying to soothe him as much as he could. “What it is then?”

“I’ve noticed the sunflowers here are a rare species of a clan-type.”

“Clan-type?” Robin parroted him with an inauspicious voice.

Chopper nods. “It is kind of plants which try to make other living beings to become like them instead of naturally reproducing. Luckily, this species is too weak to actually make a human into a flower, and maybe this is why the locals allowed themselves to grow them for their beauty. But that doesn’t mean it doesn’t succeed to leave any effect at all.”

“Eh? But he still looks normal!” Luffy wondered as he searched for anything outstanding all over Zoro’s body, who was losing his patience by the minute.

“Didn’t you notice? As long as he sees it, Zoro can only face the sun!”

Sanji cannot help himself but losing it.

For the following days, Zoro spends even more of the day in the crow’s nest. He even stops looking for booze, too, as he has to make sure he drinks just as much as his body needs to deal with the amount of sweat he perspires during his workout, so unlike the first morning he will be able to hold it until the sun is down, when he finally can go out.

Since Nami asked Sanji so, he prepares breakfast for Zoro earlier than everyone, just before the sun is up, and delivers him lunch while everyone eats inside the galley.

Sanji understands it is serious, especially as out on the sea, the next battle can happen at any given moment; not only everyone will have to have Zoro’s back, the proud bastard will not even let them cover for him that easily himself.

In the meantime, though, he still takes advantage of that to make fun of Zoro every time. He cannot be blamed for not being able to stay quiet with a - now literally - moss-for-brain guy, who could not even figure out himself that the sunflower seeds he has eaten just before it all started were the reason for it.

As the sunflowers act the way they do because they know what is best for themselves, even without consciousness, that man is officially dumber than a plant.

“Enjoy your meal- unless you’re already full by photosynthesis,” he wishes him the first time he brings him lunch.

“It’s exactly noon, so make sure to warn us when you sense a Knock-Up Stream, South Bird,” he cheerfully remarks another time as he brings him a snack.

“Maybe you should consider renaming this one after Thousand Sunny instead,” he notes at one of the time he comes back to take the dishes, while Zoro was practising the movement of the 1080 Pound Ho technique with weights.

For the last bad pun Sanji actually has to dodge an attack directed at him, and each time it is still worth it. After all, if he has somehow spent the entire first day under the effect of the seeds facing the sun, which allowed him to find the right path back to the ship even later than usual, without getting his face burn- then at least Sanji can amuse himself by attempting getting his face red himself.

Although while not finding it as cute as it is amusing, of course. Not at all.

At any case, the rest of the crew takes their part in toying with the current member to get into an unfortunate situation, so Sanji is afraid he will soon run out of original good material himself - only Usopp, for example, has used up anything clever you could make with a comparison to the Sunlight Tree Eve - but that until Chopper gets concerned about the lack of vitamin D Zoro will soon suffer from, as it is not clear when the effect will go away, and orders him to take his naps outside.

Luffy and Usopp get bored of it quickly, as the sun moves too slowly for the direction Zoro’s head leans to noticeably enough, but Sanji still manages to entertain himself with trying to guess the time according to the direction Zoro’s head is tilted to.

But that also means he stares at him more as he sleeps, and perhaps Sanji does more damage to himself than good while suddenly noticing how beautiful Zoro’s face are, once he is too peaceful to distract Sanji with some sort of annoyance. It even exposes some of his soft side he usually does not show, well hidden behind the stiffness the usually carries himself with.

Sanji is reminded of one of those rare times, where they got stuck with each other as circumstances made them split together from the rest of the crew; as they walked by a small waterfall, Sanji’s eyes caught a small rainbow it created. He got closer to make it illuminate over his hand, and only by luck Zoro was still not that far away once he raised his head to look for him. He called him, intentionally to warn him to not drift away- but was then surprised when the swordsman not only was marvelled once he noticed Sanji’s his finding, but was interested enough that he got closer to take a better look, touching Sanji’s hand in the process. Sanji somehow avoided jerking away, but it did make his gaze to lock on the full exposure of Zoro’s long, moss-green eyelashes as he was looking down. The way their arcs were as perfectly round as the sincere, more unalloyed than his katanas smile stretching beneath them caught Sanji’s breath. He had seen him smiling astonishedly like that before, like when they arrived at Water 7, but had never thought he would have ever care to share it with him.

Then the singular hazel eye looked back at him, which may have carried less variety of shades than a rainbow, but the natural phenomenon still had nothing in comparison to the depth and strength of the overall tone.

Okay, that is it, he should stop wasting time on bittersweet memories and focus on important issues, especially those which will actually grant him happiness, like making drinks for the ladies.

He manages to actually lose those previous thoughts in his new occupation, that he even manages to not pay attention to Zoro as he leaves a drink beside him, and passes him to Nami and Robin- the only targets that should matter.

And that is why it takes another whole day for anyone to notice that he became the one according to whom Zoro’s body changes the angle it is facing, overcoming even the sun’s position, whenever he is near him.

“Best. Development. Ever!” Usopp cries, rolling on the ship’s lawn while holding his sides.

“How the hell having our Swordsman losing control over his body is a good development?!” Nami scolds after him.

Luffy, who has been crossing the grass back and forth just like Usoop, suddenly clashes into the other- but it does not stop the two of them to bark out in yet another wave of laughter.

“We should find a yellow ball on the next island to throw at the Marines so he could fight them,” their Captain finally suggests.

“Great idea, so very helpful,” Nami sighs as she walks up to the duo to give them their justified punches.

Sanji has never had any special thought about his hair, really - unlike someone else’s, it is actually a completely normal one - but that situation makes him to actually wish it was not yellow.

Not that it means he plans to dye it to anything else, of course.

“Why doesn’t anyone listen to me?!” Chopper waves his arms helplessly, and jumps for a good effort. “It can’t be about Sanji’s hair resembling the sun!”

Zoro groans. “Either way, Cook- why don’t you go there too so I can give them a piece of my mind too!”

“Tch, good-for-nothing Marimo.” Sanji lights up a cigarette as he remains standing. “Now I won’t be able to stand close to either Nami-san or Robin-chan, for who knows how long, in case you’ll hurt them accidentally.”

“Won’t happen as long as you don’t give me a reason to try going after you, Ero-Cook.”

Sanji jumps in front of Zoro at once, pressing him against the wall with his foot on his chest. “You mean you actually won’t even try to control yourself when you have a lady in view?!”

Zoro holds his leg and tries to shove it off of himself, but that also means he has to try incline to another way; as he is physically not able to face a point even a little skewed from the one Sanji is at, an attempt like that is clearly utterly impossible- or at least looks to be as painful as trying to twist one’s hand beyond its maximum flexibility point.

Sanji smirks triumphantly. “Well, at least you finally won’t be able to ignore the truth anymore while it is standing right in your face.”

“What truth? That your women-obsession is a much more ridiculous sickness than mine?”

“What was that - ?!“

“ - Didn’t you hear me? I told you to stop it!” Chopper, in his grown Heavy Point form, comes to stand aside them and force Sanji to step back. “I finally figured it out- it’s adrenaline!”

“Huh?”

“His body can't absorb light, so it searched for the next closest thing- something that drives itself to accelerate energy creation through cellular respiration, and I think it found it in the rush of adrenaline Zoro has been triggered to experience during all the times you angered him recently. You’ve teased him more than everyone when you came every day to bring him his meals.”

“That might be true,” Brook comments, “but when we tried earlier, Zoro was back to being attracted to the sun whenever Sanji was gone out of his sight. Even while searching for alternatives, it still doesn’t solve the original problem.”

“That’s true,” Chopper nods, “but I still think that it’s still progress. Soon his body will understand that the best way to get energy is through food alone, and will teach itself to get over that added instinct, just like there are a lot of instincts the human body forgets as we grow up.”

All the while they discuss this, Zoro has his eye closed so he will not have to stare directly as Sanji, who knows that he will not be able to get on with it for long himself. While he is currently not the one to be stuck in a state he cannot get away from, it can soon be him if Zoro will start finding things he could use to his disadvantage, like that time he caught him off-guard by the waterfall.

“Anyway, I’ll go hang back at the galley, where I better keep staying out of the zone of staring creepers,” he declares as he starts making his way back to the kitchen, even though it is too early for any dinner preparations.

“Like having to look at your swirly eyebrows the entire day doesn’t creep me out,” Zoro murmurs as his body spins in accordance with Sanji’s advance, which Sanji senses on his back way too well. Another roar of laughter commences, but is cut short as Sanji finally closes the door behind him- living the two boys in the direction of the sun fully exposed to the Swordsman’s range of attack.

Sanji puffs out smoke in relief. Being away from a compassionless eye constantly following and judging him, now he can finally think clearly: while he does not turn down Chopper’s speculation completely, Sanji still has a feeling there is something else that Zoro’s instincts connect between the sun and himself, even if not the shared colour.

Going over any association he has about the sun which he can somehow be also linked to him, he finds quicker than he would think an idea with a considerable possibility, and he is not happy when the solution he comes out with intensifies it on his face.

Unless he comes out with a better idea, though, or somehow he will be miraculously proven wrong even before that- he knows he will have no choice but to try it.

He waits until the next day’s sunrise, since the last dinner’s attempt has proven that Sanji still affects him even after the sun has sunk completely below the horizon, to the point the cook had to go out of his own kitchen to let him eat in peace.

While Zoro technically can get around with his eye closed whenever Sanji is visible to him, his lack of sense of direction for sure will take a disastrous turn.

Chopper volunteered to carry his next meals - Luffy tried to too, but everyone was too smart than letting him touch food that is not on his own plate - and Sanji hopes that it will not be the only excuse to not have to see Zoro, well, just about ever again in case he is wrong.

Sanji takes his morning preparation slower than usual, but inevitably, the time eventually arrives.

Despite peeking inside his pack of cigarettes, to make sure it is not empty, he throws the one he has smoked until that moment without taking a new one; he will have to face this situation head-on.

Getting out, he moon-walks his way to the crow’s nest.

Probably sensing him in advance, Zoro is standing where he can match the line of the sun, shining through the window, while having his back to the entrance when Sanji makes its way through.

“There’s no need to test it again every day, so just leave,” Zoro asserts.

Sanji sighs, as he for once wants to listen to Zoro so much. “Not before I try something I’ve thought about.”

“And since when do you have good ideas?”

Sanji crosses his arms. “When I rescued you from Crocodile’s cage? When I delayed Enel’s ark by attacking his engines before facing him? When I opened Enis Lobby’s Gates of Justice? Starting to find a pattern yet, human-plant? ”

A few beats pass, but finally Zoro’s shoulders slump with a sigh. “Fine, you have good strategies, but only when you’re unseen. Isn’t that part of the pattern too?”

“There’s no point if I don’t return to the light again, as much as you hate it.” Sanji rounds Zoro to meet a suspicious, unwelcoming eye that hopefully only hides the truth he has once witnessed from it, back at the waterfall. “Supposedly.”

“Eh - ?” Zoro opens his mouth to utter, luckily, and by that makes the task easier for Sanji, as he can immediately use it to grab his face and meshed his own mouth to his.

Zoro tries to hum something, but Sanji has to make sure he acts as thoroughly as possible before he is thrown away through the window, and with each press of lips tries his best to make a profound contact, so the instinct holding Zoro captive will not be able to miss it.

Once overcoming his initial surprise, Zoro starts to react back with just as much force, not willing to let him take full leading so easily.

Instead of relief, like any normal person would feel for the cooperation, Sanji actually enjoys it. Thanks to becoming breathless, though, he does not have to face the painful temptation stretch it further than needed.

He somehow remembers then that he should check the results, as it was nothing but an experiment, and start jumping between different spots around Zoro.

“What the hell?” Zoro gasps, his head moving back and forth as he tries to catch a glimpse of him.

Grinning, Sanji stands right behind him and shifts him around. “It worked!”

Zoro blinks, but then stares out of the window he is now facing, which is finally not the wrong one to him, but just another window. A smile that only a free man can make is slowly drawn across his face, and he even releases a rare laugh that pulls at Sanji’s stomach much more than it should.

“How did you know what to do?” Zoro asks him.

Sanji slowly lets go of Zoro, eyes darting elsewhere. He clears his throat and lights up a cigarette, at long last.

“Unlike what Chopper said, I don’t think I annoyed you to the point your instinct will see me as a trigger to create energy, but that your body made it figure out that this is a human body, and you need the sun mainly for warmth- although it is something you get more effectively by a contact with someone else.” Sanji walks over to a window, although not one where the sun is seen; he is not that cold. “I’m the one who happens to touch you the most, during our quarrels, so I figured that was the reason you fixed on me, so I wanted to make sure you felt my warmth as effectively as possible.”

“Body warmth, huh…” Zoro mutters behind him.

They fall into silence, which Sanji desperately wants to get away from, but has no idea how to get out. Going near Zoro, ironically, has become intolerable.

“No, it’s both,” Sanji suddenly hears the other man says behind him, following by footsteps coming closer.

Sanji takes a long drag on his cigarette, and closes his eyes.

“Whether I liked it or not, you’ve been central in my life on this ship. All the times you got me to heat up, you influenced me to train even harder. I don’t depend on it, but by this point, it is almost as vital for me as the sense of Nakamaship I’ve developed."

Sanji huffs. “The point was that you’re a muscle-brain anyway.”

“Shut up, dumbass. I’ve simply persisted to one specific path - ”

This time, Sanji snorts.

“ - which made it hard for me to see alternative ones,” Zoro finishes explaining his insight, although a bit too annoyed for someone who has experienced one. It is not like Sanji want to ruin this moment for Zoro, but he has to get back on track, right after messing with their status quo.

This is how they communicate, and this is how it shall stay. Being able to fantasize a much more meaningful future with him than with anyone he has ever attempted to attach himself to does not matter.

“But since you keep trying multiple ones for no reason,” Zoro suddenly continues, “maybe combining to find a balance it will make you finally stop pretending like another person is better than you just by being born with the right set of milk glands.”

Sanji snaps his eyes open at that, forgetting all about his discomfort he has felt until just a second ago and coming forehead-to-forehead with Zoro. “Oi, just because you don’t appreciate that doesn’t mean you can talk about it like its speciality is unadmirable like that green head of yours.”

“It doesn’t matter what it is- you can keep pampering women, if it makes you happy like cooking for anyone regardless of gender. But you can’t let this cost your self-worth.”

The smoke from Sanji’s cigarette blocks his view, so he takes it out of his mouth for now. “Well, you did help to raise it during the last few days while I was constantly reminded of that stupid mistake you’ve done on a whim that I’ll never do, and I don’t see how cherishing women is beneath that. Then what do you suggest?”

“Blocking your path and see what you do about it.”

Before Sanji knows it, Zoro’s palms are on the back of his head and he is being pushed forward until their lips meet again, though this time for something simpler that still leaves the both of them frozen to their spot for the few seconds it lasts.

Shocked, Sanji tries to connect the different points that brought them to this- because if he has kissed Zoro to help him break through the seeds’ effect, Zoro has to have his own legitimate reason for this. He may not be dumb enough to force him like that to stop his so-called women problem, but it is too surreal for him that it could be what it looks to mean. How could anyone want him and yet trust him so much that they will not care about his admiring attitude toward others?

But Zoro’s eye, while not looking at him as tenderly as one would expect from someone with sentimental meanings behind this kind of action, is assuring it in his own way by staring at him with his frank, unreserved expression.

“Finally it looks like I'm the only one who was warmed,” Zoro smirks as he trails his fingers on Sanji’s burning cheeks.

“Shut up, shitty bastard,” Sanji murmurs as he flicks his hand away, but ultimately let Zoro’s fingers to comb some of his shiny hairs.

“Same to you, asshole.”

~~~

Finally able to enjoy the sun properly, Zoro thinks back to the period of his life as a wanderer, where many times he had to walk under the warmth of the sun with hunger eating him from the inside.

Later, soon after joining Luffy’s crew, not only he did not have to worry about that- but he could actually build muscle more effectively, with no worry that his body would resist it- all thanks to one pesky, obnoxious cook coming abroad.

Even if there was a proper way to truly return him the favour, Zoro is not one to express that deep kind of gratitude directly, obviously, but since he happens to be the first one to get back to the ship from a stroll, for a change - even while the sun already barely presents in the sky - and only Sanji is there, as he stayed to look after the ship, he still wants to communicate it somehow.

He finds him leaning against the railing, watching the sea, and does not turn around as Zoro gets closer. The latter embraces him from behind with one hand, and turning his hair aside with the other so he could mouth the skin behind his ear.

Sanji sunk in a sharp breath, but his voice is mostly levelled when he speaks. “Are you bored?”

Despite Sanji is still uncertain about what they have started, as it is still too fresh for him- Zoro keeps being patient about it as usual: “No.”

“Then what's that about?”

Zoro smirks into his skin. “Isn't it clear by now? Disturbing you is always too tempting.”

“I thought you prefer doing that by picking on me until we start fighting.”

“Maybe, but that's when your mood is neutral.” He slowly nips his ear shell. “Now you're peaceful.”

Sanji is right by most probably figuring out that Zoro does not really have romantic moods, where all he wants is to be the man who initiates nice settings. He is a spontaneous kind of guy: he lets life lead him to find in a new island’s market something that the cook would like to receive only by a chance, and will not pull him to a place with unconventional, noteworthy settings, whatever that counts as, as letting it naturally occur around them is much better.

Just like waterfall creating a rainbow.

But when something reminds him of Sanji, he simply cannot help but look for him, no matter whether they end up trying to tear each other’s throats - and no matter what, there are still times where the cook makes him see red - or other behaviours that have to do with their proximity which feeds his satisfaction.

Because, as great as watching the sharpness in his eyes every time he uses an opportunity to drive him up the wall- being absorbed in the warmth of his smell and taste is quite remarkable, too.

“Sun's coming down,” Sanji mentions latterly.

Zoro hums into his shoulder agreement, even though he could care less about it so long Sanji is still there.

#zosan #zosan ficlet #my writing #marimo!zoro #plant!zoro

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heartshapedcreaturefromcriptoon · 4 years

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The deal with my deer tail: Continued from the last tagged post (MENTIONS OF EX’S AND OHS OFF THE PORT BOW).

Like, I’m very painfully aware that this is %200 a trauma/coping thing that I’ve developed for myself now because deer were … My exe’s absolute favorite animal of all time ever and he associated with them deeply in regards to certain aspects of his personality and hobbies and this kinda plays a little bit into why I was attracted to him in the first place because it was such unique interest for someone to have and then ….Of course his favorite film ever was “Bambi” like, to the point of having the plushies and the original ORIGINAL book by Felix Salten along with it’s original sequel book and everything and it’s like …So odd for me because I live right by the woods in the middle of nowhere anyway and not a day goes by without discussion of these creatures in my house or without an offer to go “deer spotting” or “Bambi Spotting”… And I don’t have much room to say “no” because who would say “no” to deer sighting so I typically just go along with as if it doesn’t effect me because I have no choice….. And anyway outside of my home life I know tumblr typically loves deer and deer aesthetics as well and while I thought I’ve been trying to go out of my way to avoid this particular animal (at least on social media if I’m unable to in my home life) for the longest time because I associate them so deeply with my ex … Because deer were *HIS* thing … I’m slowly coming to terms with this creeping realization that I’ve had that I’ve not only been surrounded by the actual animal since before I met him …. But I’ve also just … Been surrounded by just …. All these deer characters and deer aesthetic since he left me…. And that also hurts me ….Because ….Since he’d been trying to find ways to get back in contact with me for the better part of the decade yearly since then, without ever apologizing, and since 2017 I’ve only had two years without receiving something from him in order to fully process how he’d been in my life for a near full decade like, wether I wanted him to be or not … That sort of just … devolved into this odd habit of me projecting unto certain characters with these kind of aesthetics and relationship dynamics to help cope because he never gave me anything else and it’s weird because I started to seek out these things and look at them in context to my relationship with this person and I just felt ….. bittersweet but okay because I would think of him and I would think of the way that he used to make me feel and feel and I would feel sad but because of the nature and narrative that I was projecting toward I would also feel comforted in a way and validated and calm? Which is also the way I’d start to feel whenever I’d see an actual deer or mention of deer or even see clips or concept art from “Bambi” or a baby deer …

But ………

So back in 2018, just a couple days after what would have been one of our “anniversaries” had past, and I hadn’t even keeping track of how many at that point but like, basically something happened that triggered me into a remember the time that in 2013 he had found my tumblr and followed me without warning, context or permission, without even speaking to me after finding me the year before this just to let me know how much he couldn’t care less about me, apparently ….. which, sure, Jan.

But … This time he was freaking me out because he was just following me silently on a blank account out of nowhere and I kind of managed to find what could’ve been considered my first ever girlfriend within the six months to a year that he’d been out of my life and it is me and this new girl had only “official” for 3 days after like, 6 months of slow burn flirting with each other and then this other cowardice arsehole who didn’t even have the dignity to speak to me proper was … Someone who had known for me for 3 years and someone whom I had once shared the most intimate parts of myself with.

In short I could already foresee this becoming a pattern after he’d managed to contact me the last time so I ended up breaking down and having a panic attack.

I didn’t know what to do and I felt sick to my stomach and I didn’t want him putting me in a spot, so… I made a screen cap and a post and kind of explaining who he was and how he hurt me and how I didn’t want him hurting my girlfriend or anyone else so just PLEASE don’t talk to him etc. And then I blocked him and threw up. And would-be-girlfriend blocked me the next day because of this…

A couple weeks later around New Years, I decided to log into the old hotmail account that I had just because I was curious….

The first email that he sent me was to let me know that he was going to follow me on tumblr and he was asking how my Christmas was and inquiring how I was doing, he wanted to know if I was “fine”. His version of pet names all included as if nothing had gone wrong between us ….

The next three emails, sent within minutes of each other, each only sentences long, were all responding to my reaction to his following me on tumblr without a word, without context, and seemingly without context …. These emails all of which I did not end up saving or screen caping because…. I’m pretty much 99% freaking. Percent. SURE! That he stated something passively along the lines of: “ If I REALLY wanted to *BLANK* , I would have done so… >.>” cause I distantly remember his little side eye emoji that he placed after the words “done so” and like, it’s really easy to kind of place the words “HURT YOU” in the middle of that, because that’s what I was talking about him doing in context, which would lead to at least vaguely remembering this in a full sentence as: “If I REALLY wanted to hurt you, I would have done so … >.>”

So yes, I’m at least 99% sure that he had threatened me, like that …

And of course I didn’t respond, but I do remember feeling threatened enough that it made my heart race and it made me cry and I needed to ask my mom for champaign to calm and I also remember that the whole reason why I didn’t save those emails was because if I did it would make the threat real and would need to tell my parents and I just didn’t want to think of him that way or what he’d meant by that and because this was already becoming a pattern, I didn’t want to spend another entire year of being paranoid he was planning something …

And he also kept going about what a nice guy he was and told me to have a nice life and told me he was gonna check up on me anymore and said that I treated him like shit …

So I just took a sip of my champaign, told myself I’d see him in a year, and deleted his emails… This was in 2013.

In 2014, I caught him spying on me through the visitors page of an account I’d already gone out of my way to block him on, and I noticed that, even though it been two years, he still had the icon that I had personally picked out for him as his avatar, an odd memory to keep from someone you claim to not care about, constantly ….

In 2015, he sent me a silent skype request…

In 2016.. He found my tumblr again …Actually saying something where I could access it this time … He sent me like, 7 IM’s and for the most part was back to being nice as pie, back to his version of calling me pet names and everything … claimed that he just wanted to say Hello …

He said that we could talk someday if I wanted to and that it was up to me … I still didn’t answer, because for one this was past midnight on Friday The 13th and when I saw that I had 7 IM’s and a new follower I just …. I got this sinking gut feeling that I knew that it was him and then I told myself that I was being paranoid again and that he couldn’t possibly because I’d already blocked him and so I opened up the messages just to prove to myself that I was wrong and got met with his username and a single smiley face emoji like:

“:)” Was the first thing I saw when I opened his messages…

And I immediately closed them out again and I closed tumblr out and I just sat there …. for awhile … Because the last thing he did say to me verbally was to threaten me and tell me that I treated him like shit … And I had no way of knowing what could be behind that smiley face …

But I needed to know … So I opened the messages and read them …

And that’s when he went back to being as nice as his own pie recipe and seemingly pretending like those emails and the spying didn’t happen …

Like, I don’t know if he knew I knew about them, but I have an inkling he must’ve otherwise he wouldn’t have been that cocky … “:)” is not a friendly smiley face, nor will it ever be.

And in the middle before all that he was like: “Let’s hope you don’t bite my head off this time …. xD” referring back to only the 2013 incident when I said something indirectly and that scared away the girl I was about to maybe start something with, again as if that didn’t happen ….

So, I didn’t answer him, because he didn’t earn it.

So like yeah, back in 2018, due to …. certain contexts of certain things which would also lead into me having anticipated myself getting caught up in an over abundance of people’s appreciation for deer, due to something that I not mention, I’d also been triggered/hit with a sharp realization that, October 27th, 2019 would have been the 10 year anniversary of having met that person in the first place, if he hadn’t discarded me after 3 years and then spent like, the better part of the decade trying to get in contact with me, upon the deeper realization that, even as of now, I’ve only really officially had this person out of my life for two years, and on top of that, he’d still find a way of showing up in my life Every. Single. Year. For the past four years. And now I would have to be dealing with an over abundance of deer and ‘Bambi’ references and puns, even more so than I obviously did and still do now, in my home life…

So my reaction was to laugh. REALLY fucking hard. And then I realized that deer might actually just…. LEGIT be my trigger always and then I started crying laughing cause I was just like “OH dear GOD… (and I can’t even like, say that that or type that without it already being a pun without it being a pun …which only makes it FUNNIER …) I might LEGIT have Bambiphobia!”

And then I broke down. Because I didn’t know how to feel about this or how I was gonna deal with it.

I’m still figuring out how I feel about this and how I’m dealing with it ….

My ex …. Was….He wasn’t a very complex boy but, he had always been more ,… In touch with things like femininity and sensitivity, or at least made a show of it, but I’d like to think he was genuinely like that considering what his interests were and he might’ve been autistic too just, looking back on things in context?

(His absolute FAVORITE music to listen to was also Owl City and he loved Adam Young, and considering Adam Young is self diagnosed and my ex’s special interest in deer, and Bambi and the books and the plushies and the the way he could just …talk and talk to me about anything for hours and hours and hours and we’d never we’d never get tired of each other…. I’ve just been doing all this math in my head I’m not trying to imply anything bad about these things and they all play into factors of why I was originally attracted to him to begin with).

He openly identified as Bisexual before I even knew what that was for myself and still kind of considered myself “Straight but not Narrow TM” or whatever kind of definition I saw on Television.

He wrote poetry as a hobby and of course knew how to play the piano while I did none of those things.

He was 17 when I met him but due to cultural difference of where he lived… he enjoyed wine and opera.

He was extremely well spoken and charming and articulate, and he also loved Mr. Rodger’s and Albert Einstein to the point of just having just … One big black and white poster of Albert in his room and one time, he was going on about his admiration for Rodger’s and so innocently told me how he intended to write and send him fan-letters one day and then reasonably became extremely upset when I informed that Rodger’s passed away, and I felt even more so helpless to comfort him when he asked me if I could tell him a little bit more about Rodger’s life to make him feel better and I knew absolutely nothing about the man aside from vaguely remembering that I used to watch his show when I was small …

So yeah my ex’s personality could essentially be summed up as: “ Eccentric, Silly “Smart” boy”, if I needed to …

He once excused himself when I told him that I needed to eat soon and came back, all decked out in a tuxedo to “have dinner together”, and I was about to eat a taco…

This one time he noticed that I was super uncomfortable and upset because I just watched this disgusting ableist film that had like incest in and shit and I didn’t wanna tell him but he got it out it out of me and HE KNEW WHAT FILM I WAS TALKING ABOUT AND THEN WANT ON BIG RANT AND ESSAY ABOUT HOW VILE IT WAS AND HOW I SHOULD PAY IT NO MIND AND AFTERWARDS HE WAS LIKE: “You know what? We need some music to wash the taste out of our mouths…” and then he just started playing the piano to calm me down further.

And I’m only saying it like this because incase no one has noticed it’s been a little bit more… Confusing? For me to try and throw a man like this into everyone’s typical “FuckBoyTM” box and call that “Healing”.

I wouldn’t even wanna put labels on him …

I genuinely feel as though I would need to think back to olden times in order to find a way to insult him that would accurately combat and deconstruct the amount of passion we brought out in each other, if it is appropriate to speak of my feelings for him in this context.

His mistreatment of women that he did not like …. Left much to be desired in regards to his attitude. Though his comments were mostly reserved for his half sister, my half sister, and fictional characters and I’m not bringing this up to try and say that this was justified or frame it into a: “Well, he never did that to ME sort of picture …” Though, the odd thing is that, for all the things that my younger self had shared with him, after his abandonment, ever year for four years I’d kept on waiting for the shoe to drop and for him to call me names and slurs and for the verbal abuse to finally commence and he just …

He wouldn’t do any of that. He never did. Not once. Not even during times he would get angry with me when we were together.

So when HE DID, lose his patience with me, he never resorted to name calling, so when he said and did things that hurt me, that he should’ve known better for doing, that meant he was really fucking harsh ….

So harsh, that one night….. It would be the final night I’d ever thought I’d speak to him again. Or at least begin to test him to see if he would come back and apologize and therein lies the the issue: HE ALWAYS came back, HE NEVER apologized.

Perfect. Gentleman. (Of course I’m using sarcasm).

Seriously, you know that new chat post about Male Victorian Novel Protagonist has fucked by his Lady Love and Knows This, BUT is Too Proud to admit this though still pines for her so when he speaks to her now he just: *sweats*…Is your family in good health?

Legit triggers my PTSD cause for the past four years with me it’s been just: Hey mate. Wanted to see how your X-mas was. Is your family okay? Are you fine? I’ve got some time off… Okay fine, I won’t check on you anymore, it’s not like I still love you or anything, baka! >.< *cue two more years of silent bating before* Hey kiddo you doing okay? I know it’s late but my days off today and if you wanna talk someday you can I’ll leave you alone now! :)

Like I know I’m paraphrasing but that’s pretty much it (and I know I know I’m sorry for the “baka” joke, but he WAS a huge otaku nerd to a certain extent and all the anime that I would watch before I really started interacting with AMV editing community on YouTube was recommended him so needless to say I do not watch Anime so much anymore but I couldn’t resist making a “baka” joke in my own mind while reading his poorly veiled passive aggression and it’s written down and out of my system how I’m gotten to properly share one of the ways I’ve teased him for this if only in my own mind.

The thing that makes me feel weird/guilty about all this though is despite his behavior suspicious as shenanigans, he’d only ever attempt close contact once per year (as far as I know) and as far as I know aside from that one time I’d caught him spying on an art group from an account I’d already blocked him on which I don’t really know how he found (which okay, still a little shaken up about that one every time I type about it) his way of always popping up in my life somehow never really strayed from his ordinarily open way of trying to do it, and he’d never verbally abuse me or call me names or slurs while this was happening, despite how condescending or ominous he was while trying to get a razzle out of me …

MEANWHILE, because I let him get a razzle out of me, no matter how long ago it was before I found cpunk, I ended up deliberately calling him an extreme ableist slur just to send him away from away from me, over what was nothing more than a silly misunderstanding and classic case of miscommunication because I couldn’t see his first email and didn’t think to check before I went off on him, regardless if the misunderstanding could’ve been prevented if he communicated directly or not.

And I was too caught up in my reaction to him choosing being ominous and condescending when once he finally decided to try to speak to me again after two years of silent lurking after the last time he tried to speak to me he passively threatened me, that I didn’t get to take back the use of my ableist language toward when I had the chance. Which is the only thing that I’d ever apologize for before his, if he ever gave me one, and of course not conditionally for the both of us.

My ex’s most sensitive spot has always been his mental health and I’ve always known this because I found out once in the early stages of our relationship when we were roleplaying and I went a little too far with my character, so that’s in 2013 when I panicked I decided to say something…like that to upset him in hopes that he would leave me alone but I was really more hurt than I was scared and I would have confronted him directly but again I had a putting it quite bluntly flakey rebound “girlfriend” at the time and I had no idea where she was and I was freaking out and I didn’t want him putting me in a spot and I didn’t know what would happen if he left me alone. And this was at a time when I was taking the “stealth” mode about being disabled. Partially because of him (Gee I WONDER what could’ve happened).

The only person who knew this about me, very intimately (not intimately enough), was him and of course at the time I would NEVER tell my silly abled-bodied brit of a rebound girlfriend.

So, I did what I did and I said what I said.

At the time I only became slightly afraid when I read his reaction in those emails, and then the next year when I caught him spying on already blocked account and the blocking system worked both ways so I had no way of confronting him about it even if I wanted to ether way.

Though, I was admittedly slightly comforted knowing that he never changed the icon I’d picked out for him ….enough to kinda calm me down a bit…… Is that weird of me? It was weird of him.

Now because of this trigger and the context of certain things as to WHY this was such a strong trigger and in context of certain things that we both said… and in regards of the way he handled trying to get back in contact with me for four years and responded to the one reaction he got out of me and proceeded to continue the pattern for 3 years when he couldn’t just used that time to apologize like I’d been waiting for him to do and meanwhile I’m still… confused and guilty … because the first and final reaction he ever got out of me was …that.

For the past year now…. I haven’t been able to stop myself from crying and I just don’t feel like I can let it be like this anymore because I already felt awful about everything before but relating everything in context of the trigger which is another case where I could actually use it help cope is just making me feel so much worse.

What makes this even worser though is that this particular trigger is not only very popular and very public and with this substantial involvement of deer and deer aesthetics and then certain aesthetics and even names …. That I feel like only the two of us would get that it’s just ouch… But like, this thing is also interconnected with Owl City, like not officially but in it’s own way? Which is one of the first things that I thought of once I let the trigger settle because one of the FIRST questions that my ex asked me the day that I met him was wether or not I liked Owl City and I had never even heard of them before so I looked them up and my heart melted and I just knew I had to keep this God Damn Fucking Ray Of Sunshine in my miserable life and never let him go….

And I like to think obviously that the tables must have turned a little bit since then which is another part of what makes using my triggers as coping mechanisms if I can, so cathartic and funny to me and why people can pry this method from my hysterical hands …..

But what I’m getting at here making the Owl City mention even though I hadn’t had myself listen to a single Goddamn thing of theirs for 7 years up until this FREAKING. YEAR (because the tears were already flooding, my honey’s, so I figured MIGHT AS WELL! And yes I did end up crying my eyes out like I knew that would happen if I’d ever let myself listen to Adam Young ever again …) is that… This this thing….. That I love….. Is also a thing my ex would love ….And the reason that all my projectional coping mechanisms work so well is because the dynamics that remind me of our relationship tend to work both ways and is probably part of the reason how I was able to keep (at least reasonably) calm through the 4 years he kept tabs on me was because I felt like I had this very specific trope-y outlet to project my feelings onto and I know that he was a nerd so, if he was … paying attention and absorbing the same media I was …(he would’ve already learned how to apologize…)

No, but seriously, the difference is with THIS media though… Is because it has so many ties to so many of his own aesthetics and things he enjoys …..I just know ….. That he was seeing exactly what I was seeing. I was DREADING the concept of knowing that I was going to fall in love with this thing from the very beginning and it got to the point where I’d be reminded of certain elements I’d forgotten or I’d see certain things play-out for the the first time and, my breath would hitch in my chest …. and I feel guilty (You cannot be attracted to this you cannot be attracted to this you cannot be attracted to this. Not THIS time. Not again. Never again. Stop it …. Stop it…Stop it. Because ether way this is bad. This is terrible. This is going to be by far the WORST one because you know it involves the actual THING now for both you instead of just elements of the thing why are you subjecting yourself to this?! You know he’s seeing this right now….If he watched the Owl City thing that we’re not watching, then he’s watching this. And YOU shouldn’t be watching this ether!

And so, I would discipline myself to disassociate: You will NOT project THAT relationship onto these two characters, they haven’t even interacted yet!

And then …. that happened. They interacted. And it obviously felt so much worse then…. I prepared myself two seconds in for how it was gonna play out. But I wasn’t prepared that it would end ….or even be that close to home. And then I reminded myself that he was probably watching the same thing that I was, as I’ve always done because it was fun being reminded I was right, my only solace really because projecting myself through these characters was the closest I’d ever get to an apology, but the time that the first viewing was over, everything just felt so wrong and I just felt so uncomfortable about everything and I started to cry cause I knew my reactions to this dynamic were gonna be the most intense from here on out and ………I was so confused and afraid of my own emotions at that moment… And I was feeling a lot of them.

What concerned me the most here though, was being almost certain of the fact that that, if I was watching and it triggered a reaction, HE was most likely watching and it triggered a reaction.... And given the context of the trigger that I’m talking about .... I mean, if it hit close enough to send me into a freaking emotional whiplash and make ME breakdown and make cry and make sick enough to tell my parents and they didn’t even care ... because they said that they already “knew”...(not even discussing the fact that a year later, I would be assaulted by the one man in my family who should have never been the one to guide me through something so awkward but who “helped” me through this emotionally but, again would beat me a year later while my useless mother watched and laughed and would tell me it was it was my fault and I would end briefly removed from my home because of this because he’d left me with bruises and a permeant physical scar ... over food)

...then, I can’t help but think of how my ex would ....Ether be absolutely disgusted with himself or... be... very entertained by all of this. Or both. I know I’ve been both.

And oh, remember all that emotional whiplash I just mentioned in the above paragraph? Well it’s only gotten worse as time went on. Right now I’d say it’s at it’s peak.

Funny this thing is ....I’d been trying to fight back against this temptation to reach out to my ex since this whole thing started and like .... Once we were well into 2019 I just .... realized that fighting this wasn’t going to work anymore if certain circumstances were going to be what they were and things ended up cutting so close to what I feared that it almost doesn’t matter anyway and it still hurts me just as much if not now more so, because of other certain happenings that I will not mention.

And now I can openly admit why the entirety of 2019 has just felt like a ticking time bomb to me. Like of course there are plenty of other factors adding into why .... I’ve been preparing to go through with reaching out to him now but ,like... My paranoia has been like, trying to tell me that this has all just been one big long game or a test and has been making me feel as though he had somehow pre-planned this all and is he currently anticipating me contacting him before 2019 is over.

And that notion is driving me just as bananas as the idea of actually letting myself go through with contacting him.

So I might as well.

I mean ....

Our relationship was taken extremely seriously by the the both of us for the most part... up until the end.

And we were technically each others first times.

We weren’t even dating, really... I just refer to him as my “ex” to make things less complicated..... But for those three years.... We were each others partners....In a way. It just makes things easier to say He Vas My Boyfriend.

I’m suggesting it that would make sense if he would want to try getting back in contact with me and check on me but feel shy and not know how to make it better since he’d have to understand how he fucked up that badly. And for a time... he was the only one who kept extending the invitations for contact.

At least this way I can check to see if he’s okay.

Everything is so fucked up. I know this.

Though Christmas might be the right time to except his last open invitation, all things considered.

I would’ve originally had more time to plan this out had it not been for everything that happened.

My coping mechanisms are as bitter as wormwood and as sharp as a doubled edge sword.

I’m just a creature. That’s it. I cannot change this.

I might not be online for a while.

Another Friday the 13th.

Well fancy that.

#Moon Outta' Spoons #ask to tag #ask to tag better #I watched Bambi and Bambi II for the third or maybe fourth time in the last couple of months and like .... Also really for the first time #ever. I don't really know how that's impacted me yet but like it's gotta be good for something taking the leap that I'm about to.#You guys ever notice how MegaraxAladdin was a really popular crossover ship? That's pretty neat huh?#If I ever allow myself to express specific inspiration it's just gonna play out like ...#EX: *FINDS ME* ME: HOW THE FUCK DID YOU KNOW IT WAS ME? EX: BECAUSE IT IS YOU YOU HAVE THE SAME INTERESTS YOU'VE ALWAYS HAD YOU JUST #YOU JUST SLIGHTLY CHANGED YOUR URL!#I told you guys that this was gonna get weird and you have no ideer but it's like now after all these years and I've finally been presented #The opportunity to be able to vent about something that's been causing me so much pain for so long SO SPECIFICALLY that I wouldn't be able #to go through with if I wanted to because SOMEBODY OUT THERE WOULD DEFINITELY HAVE AN IDEA!#So I guess no more playing Hide and Seek then .......#Again I don't really know what to say I just might not be online for a while.

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