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luckyluan · 2 days

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Desmond P. Brignac, II. Brimmens Multiversity, Tubman Hall Suite 6,348, Room Q. Morgan, LA. 70771

Dear Ma,

Life at Brimmens is...different than last term. The school used to sing! Most of us got along and nothing out of the abnormal ever happened. Now, everybody is so tense and irritated. I don't understand what changed, but I guess it's none of my business so long as my work gets done.

Professor Darlow is still on my ass because I messed up the Yule Recital last term. I've apologized he just chooses not to hear it. I'm still not quite sure how I messed up the Dragonsong but I swear I didn't mean to conjure the flames!

Anyway, I've been practicing my Ambient Sound spell threads. I'm getting better but Darlow thinks I'm sharp on my last sequence and that's why I keep getting headaches. Everyone swears majoring in Soundcasting is the way to go but I just don't see it. It doesn't fit me, ya know?

I'm thinking about changing my major. I think I want to be a dentist! Brimmens has an excellent Dentistry program and I could be done in a couple semesters...give or take a decade!

Okay, so, it's not a good plan, but I need something else! I'm burnt out. My freakin' roommate keeps conjuring werespiders and I'm sure it won't be long until I get bitten and have to spend a week in the infirmary because the lesions won't go away...again!

Maybe this school isn't for me...maybe I should try a mortal college where all I have to worry about is what is for lunch!

On a good note, Mu is interested in me! I could be just like pops! It would be so cool to be in the same fraternity as him, but I hear the process is brutal.

Anyway, I have to go. My roommate just walked in with a cage of Black Canareshies. This should be fun. -_-

Say hey to pops for me. Love y'all.

-Des.

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luckyluan · 3 days

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THE CLIMAX

MARCH 25, 2024 - 11:53AM

Carlton carefully peered through the slatted blinds of the closet door. One hand covered his mouth while the other trained the camera of his iPhone on the scene unfolding in his bedroom. His husband, Brandon, lay on the bed with both hands deep in his pants as a muscular light skinned man with a neat fade removed his shirt in front of him.

“Professor Roberts?” Carlton whispered. “What the fuck?”

Carlton expected his husband to come home for lunch. He even expected him to come home and rub one out to something from his phone, but he never expected his husband and his psychology professor to have sex in his house. His emotions ran through him like tidal waves, and it took everything he had not to fling the closet doors open and start punching whoever his fists found first, but he was smarter than that.

Carlton bit down on his lips and kept his phone trained on the bed. He watched as Professor Roberts took off his purple and gold sweater and flexed the muscles in his chest for Brandon; who was lost in the moment. Brandon’s legs found purchase on the thick shoulders of Professor Roberts. The professor grabbed Brandon’s thighs and thrust his pelvis into Brandon repeatedly. Brandon’s echoing moans were like nails on a chalkboard for Carlton. He stood still though his hands trembled. Tears raced down his slender cheeks as Brandon called out his professor’s name over and over. The bedroom shook with the force of the professor’s stroke and Brandon’s echoing pleasures were like gunshots against Carlton’s ears.

Carlton’s body began to tremble as he watched his professor and his husband destroy their marriage. He could feel the scorched track of his throat as he fought against the urge to vomit. His legs seized with nerves as he willed himself to stay hidden. This was his hell. All Carlton could do was to count the seconds as they crawled by. Finally, the room went silent. Professor Robert clung to Brandon as he grunted, and Brandon pulled him in closer.

“We need to hurry up. Hubby will be home soon.” Professor Roberts chided.

“He always takes his time. I swear he loves that office more than he loves me.” Brandon said crestfallen.

“And that’s why you have me.” Professor Roberts cooed. “And he’ll never know.”

“Yeah,” Brandon said as he reached for his pants. “Let’s hurry up, man. I gotta make it look like I took the long way home.”

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luckyluan · 4 days

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The Living Storm

MARCH 24, 2024 - 11:26pm

The sky darkened. Soft and glacial giants dipped into malevolent postures and the wind scraped against the tall, winding grass. Its high-pitched shrieks spat curses in his ears as it whistled passed. The afternoon sky filled with a violent ink and streaks of violet lightning struck the roiling curtains as if welding together the adjoining frames. This would not soon pass.

He looked from the sky to Taryn Rhys and back again. Below the flashing scene, Taryn stood with his arms outstretched to the heavens; and the atmosphere reached back. Coils of bright lightning jetted between his bony fingers. Large and small bolts of electricity traveled down his arms, across his body, and down his knees; disappearing into the dampening earth. The wind contoured his angular frame; whittling the protruding muscles at his obliques and aiming itself at him. Taryn leveled his arms at him; and as the currents of electricity draped themselves over his brown arms—like jewelry—he realized that Taryn viewed him as an adversary.

Dalton fell backward as a bolt of lightning struck the ground between his sneakers. He scrambled backward.

“What--what are you?” Dalton shouted over the laughing winds.

The wind beat against his thick frame, and he dug his fingers into the wet soil for a handhold. Nothing helped. The current of wind was far too strong.

A clap of lightning illuminated the velvet blanket covering the sky and the silhouette of a massive bird was lit by the passing of the brilliant energy. His heart sank.

“I am the wind.” Taryn spoke.

His voice shrieked like the wind and shook the ground like thunder. It surrounded him. The unyielding wind lifted Taryn off his feet. The air around him boiled with wells of power.

“I am the darkening sky and coming rain.” he continued “both necessary and violent. I am the hurricane, the earthquake, the lightning, and the tsunami.”

Taryn Rhys raised his arms to the sky and one blinding flash of lightning passed through him; electrifying the surrounding pasture. Tendrils of smoke rose from tall grass. Tree roots burned to ash as the current travelled up their ancient and knowing trunks. The lightning transformed their leaves to simmering embers as it climbed up the branches and reached, again, for the towering clouds.

“I am Taryn Rhys. The Living Storm, Bringer of Rain, Carrier of Wind. My wings make the thunders of legend. I am the Thunderbird, and, once again, you are trespassing on sacred ground; and now, you will pay the ultimate price.”

The hair on Dalton’s arms stood tall as the air in the clearing brightened to a blinding white. The air dried and he choked on his cracking tongue. A clap of thunder echoed across the clearing and a blast of lightning pushed Dalton out of existence.

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luckyluan · 5 days

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The Champion.

March 23, 2024 - 11:27pm

Toshi stared down at the glowing metal card. It was warm like it just came out of the forge, and it growled a low, but energetic hum sending tremors up his muscular arms.

“It’s an invitation to the Tournament of Strength. I did it! I made it to the Tournament of Strength. I’m going to Hemet’s Hideaway!”

Imani stared at him quizzically. Her arms crossed over her signature vintage t-shirt; and she clucked her tongue.

“Right. Cause all those words made since in that order.” she said.

“Ugh. Mortals. See, there is this tournament—wait, no, let me back up.” Toshi stumbled. “At the dawn of the universe---ummm, that probably too far--”

“Highlights, Toshi. Hit the highlights for me, please.” Imani said with a roll of her eyes.

“Okay,” Toshi took a deep breath. “Do you remember how I told you I was only half mortal? Well, the other half is god. Umm, a god. I am a demigod.

Imani looked him up and down.

“Right...” she said.

“Yeah, so, my dad is Tektun. The earth godhead. He-he controls the tectonic plates, earthquakes, all metals, and minerals that come from the earth and stuff like that. So, all his kids have a unique, ummm, aspect about them. Mine is strength. I’m super strong.

“I said Cliff notes, Toshi.”

“Ugh. Fine.” Toshi pushed a loose loc out of his excited face. “I have superpowers.”

“Knew that.” Imani stated.

“I have been training for a, literally, mythic tournament of strength that could make me a god like my dad!”

“The Earth God.” Imani finished.

“Godhead, but yes. This tournament is the MET Gala of superstrength. Demigods and creatures from all over the omniverse train for millennia to get one of these and I...got one...at 18.”

“Mhm...mhm...fascinating. So, when do we leave?”

Suddenly, the metal invitation brightened. The celestial card filled the room with uncomfortable warmth as the metal began to glow. Its dull hum swelled while its thick edges glowed a simmering orange. The room began to shudder violently. The closet doors knocked against their frames. Toshi’s tall, cedar dresser fell forward narrowly missing a frightened Imani.

“Now.” Toshi yelled. “Quick grab it!”

“I’m not touching that thing!” Imani shouted.

“Imani!” Toshi shouted back.

“Ugh. Fine.”

Imani and Toshi grabbed the searing metal plate and disappeared in a flash of orange light and their cluttered dorm room went quiet.

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luckyluan · 6 days

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Gatewood's Dream, Pt. III

MARCH 22, 2024 - 6:08PM

Finally, I am disconnected and shepherded into a room with no windows. I am thrust into a rigid chair, padded with brown leather, and I rest my forehead against it. Sitting backwards on the chair, my back is swiped with an anesthetic and marked off. I feel a dense pressure applied to my back and then a steady, fullness as chrome wings are hyperwelded to my form. An upgrade they called it, but they felt more like shackles. They shower the platinum halls with sparks as they scrape the ground. I do not want to fly. Or live forever. Or upload anymore. I want to live. I would give this immortal form—this damned half-experience for twenty short years on Earth with my friends. My community.

I was placed on Omniearth-88 to collect information on the human species—to ascertain their readiness and willingness to yield or defend themselves to the will and gratification of the Insurmountable Bull—The Master of Metals and Metaphysics, The Lord of Immaculate Light; The Soul-synthesizer! But I want no more to be a probe for a demented overlord. Colchis may be my maker, but I am no longer his angel. I will find a way to rid myself of his dominion-to tether myself to my human form; weld myself inside my mortal bones and I will be free!

Tell them I am coming for The Angelmaker’s Hammer. And his head.”

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luckyluan · 7 days

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Gatewood's Dream, PT II

MARCH 21, 2024 - 5:03PM

I am a homodidactic automaton. Humanoid. Synthetic soul. Coded memories and controlled. I was made by Colchis: The Angelmaker, and every night I am recalled to the City of Angels. The Citadel to be exact. I arrive without skin. My diamond and chrome skeleton casting prisms all around; and the center of my chest is branded with His glowing crimson bull crest. It’s weird. I can feel the air. I know the smell of burning metal and rotting skins—the tastes of oils and Ura—but I can’t experience them here. Here, they are mere currents of suggestion flowing past my well-crafted pores; and I want them back. All the senses I have on your earth—my chosen home—all the memories of my friends, the food, the warmness I feel deep in my chest when I am around the people who care for me are stolen from me. It's not fair!

I sit in the Link for an eternity—connected to the Godframe by an intimidatingly large, multicolored cord with a hook. It latches into a port at the base of my skull and if I were allowed to feel, it would hurt. The Godframe houses all the memories, notions, and recollections we collect from our host worlds. Every face, song, laugh, and experience is uploaded and cataloged.

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luckyluan · 8 days

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Gatewood's Dream

MARCH 20, 2024 - 10:37AM

“Dear D.R.U.E.,

Every night, when I close my eyes to sleep, I die. I take one deep breath, my eyelids flutter shut, I smell the distinct and delightful scent of mama’s homemade half and half, and the wifi disconnects. I’ve gone back and forth with my boy, Javian, about this—he's even watched me sleep which is kinda weird but whatever—he thinks I'm just astral projecting, but this is not that. It is death. I know it. I feel it. I smell it. It is the unmistakable departure of my soul from my body. It is terrifying to die every single night. I’ve tried staying awake or drinking enough coffee to explode my heart. Still death. Every night, I die and every night I have the same experience.

I wake up on a bed of pristine white sheets. The cathedral ceiling recedes far away and above than my eye can see. The chrome pillars are etched with fountains of glowing words. The bright and stinging light streaming in from the massive stained-glass windows caresses my eyes; and I exhale. The ceiling dances with lofty clouds and the magnanimous blues of the afternoon sky, but it does not feel like home...or earth. I am somewhere different and in my line of work, different is dangerous..."

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luckyluan · 9 days

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THE COUNCIL OF SEVEN SOULS, PT. III

He sprang up from the floor and made his way down an aisle of inventions. His head swiveled, left and right, as he searched. He never left her sight, and she was grateful. He returned a moment later with a rolled bandage and a small needle. As he knelt in front of her, he saw her fear. He offered her the needle with an apologetic smile. She accepted.

He took her ankle, once again, as he spoke.

“When I was twenty-six years old, I mastered the sciences. I did what no other scientists had done. I successfully cloned myself-split myself into seven equal pieces. No, no not like the children’s book—though I do like that story and—and the magic bits—but I conquered the biggest challenge of adulthood. I answered the question of choice. Why choose only one option when all the options are possible? I won. I finally freakin’ won. I just did not account for the—what did I call it, Kali?”

“The Soul System, Doctor.”

“Right. The Soul System.” He continued. “You see, every person only has one soul and try as I might, I cannot recreate...the soul. The body, yes. Eye color? Hair length. Build. Ambition. Aspiration. All of those boxes have check marks, but the soul is the only entity I cannot build.”

He wrapped her ankle snuggly, and the pain ebbed, but she did not move. This was the first time since she met him that she’d heard his heart and not his mind.

“That. My Soul System cannot be replicated and that is why they search for me relentlessly; why they beat down the doors of my lab because only one of us can have the soul...and I guess they’ve figured my time is up. I can’t say I disagree.”

“I do.” Izzy spoke up. Only of them tried to counteract the science. Only one of them is in here with me trying to bandage my ankle—you're actually succeeding. Wow, that works fast—and only one of them is fighting back despite being outnumbered by his own self, you’re here with me. That counts for something.”

Izzy stood up as she lightly tapped her foot to the floor before putting her full weight on it. She let out a grand sigh as she pushed her flying hairs back into the lagging ponytail. Seymour sprang up beside her.

“Look, you fucked up. A lot, but not even your great mind could foresee an all-out Battle Royale for a soul that has belonged to you for the last thirty years. You teach us to be a solution-based scientist and that’s what I have become. My solution is simple. We fight back. They may have some of your brains and ideas, but no sequel is better than the original!”

“I’m pretty sure that last bit is not true.” Seymour scratched his head.

“You with me or not?”

Izzy raised her chrome baseball bat. Her eyes were bright with passion and that passion inspired Seymour. He tipped his shotgun against her bat, and he smiled.”

“Don’t aim that thing at me. Are you crazy?” She shouted.

“Sorry--sorry. You’re right.”

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luckyluan · 10 days

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THE COUNCIL OF SEVEN SOULS, PT. II

MARCH 18, 2024 - 10:17PM

He took her ankle gingerly in between his fingers. She shifted gingerly at his unusually warm hands. He noticed her discomfort and gave a weak smile.

“It’s the serum.” he offered. “It quickens the metabolism...warms the blood...it’s only mildly uncomfortable. Heh.”

“Mildly uncomfortable...can’t imagine.” she gritted her teeth as he rotated her ankle.

He was silent for a moment. He examined her ankle carefully; touching at certain angles and applying pressure. A dull ‘clink’ sent her heart into racing and—without lifting his head from his observation—he addressed her fear.

“It’s the anatomic field receptor. It’s come unplugged again. It’s always coming unplugged. No worries.”

“Yeah, I’d hate for the field thingy to receipt accidentally...could be catastrophic.”

He snorted. “you’re funny.”

“A goddamn comedian.” She grimaced. “Are you done?”

“Oh, yes, quiet. Erm. You’ve merely twisted your ankle. I imagine the pain is terrible. I can fix it...but I’m afraid I’d have to use the anatomic field receptor.”

Seymour looked up at her with a lopsided grin on his face. The glare from his pointed glasses made his eyes dangerously bright.

“Very funny, Doc. We should go on tour together. I’ll give you top billing if I get the bigger dressing room.”

“Deal.” Seymour set her ankle down carefully.

“Excuse me, Doctor.” a metallic voice echoed through the laboratory.

“Yes, Kali?”

“The analytics you asked for are ready.”

“Thank you, Kali.”

He knelt in front of Izzy. His fingers now fidgeting with the aglets on his brown sneakers. His gray-streaked coils fell, lazily, over the broad rim frames of his glasses. There was a faint glitch in his frames.

“I’m not evil.” he said. “I’m not a mad scientist. I—I just had to know.”

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luckyluan · 11 days

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THE COUNCIL OF SEVEN SOULS, PT. I

MARCH 17, 2024 - 3:23PM

...and the thick metal doors slid close without a sound. They were alone. Izzy used the butt of her bat to slide to the floor. She plopped down on her butt in a huff and looked at him. He was not tall or muscular. Seymour Hayes was an average male with a head of very thick hair that was usually coiled into two loosely knitted braids. Today, one of his braids was completely undone and the other was not far behind. His lab coat was messed with oil and another dark colored liquid. One of his hands, the one holding the chrome shotgun, was bandaged to the elbow. The other was clad in a million different writings and notes in his own handwriting. His dark eyes fidgeted from the door to her to the gun and back again in endless rotation.

“Stop.” She huffed as she adjusted herself on the floor.

“Stop what?”

“Thinking about it.” She answered him sternly. “The more you think about it, the more you set yourself up for failure.”

He laughed at that, and the sound was bold and careless.

“How much more of a failure could I be?” he asked exasperatedly. “I knew this day would come. I knew they would come for me. For my soul. And I did nothing. I’m not a failure. I’m the failure.”

“Oh, shut the fuck up.” Izzy said with a roll of her eyes. “Respectfully, of course, Doctor, but you’ve done what no doctor in history has ever done. This, barring the lasting outcome, is a miracle. Your science is exceptional...it’s your decision-making skills we should worry about.

His shoulders moved silently as he chuckled to himself. He moved and sat down gently next to her.

“I can fix that.” he said as he looked at her ankle. “I can fix a lot of things. The one thing I cannot fix, however, is loneliness. The inability to choose a direction—so much so, that I needed to do all of this to know, beyond reason, that I was good enough. It’s insurmountable.”

Seymour wiped his glasses on his sleeve and held them to the light.

“The Council of Seven Souls’ is what they called it. The board, I mean. They considered it a modern marvel. What is choice when there is more than one of you?’ Steve said. They didn’t know only one of them had a soul.”

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luckyluan · 12 days

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THE PROFESSOR AND THE UNICORN, Con't.

MARCH 16, 2024 - 11:21PM

Dr. Livingston Crane tilted his head as he thought about Oswin’s answer. His magical house guest was telling him of his home for the last four years and it was a mythic rescue facility in North Morgan. Livingston’s mind raced as Oswin told him of the different creatures who lived there and just how many unicorns called St. James Mythic Rescue home.

“So... there are more of you?” Livingston asked.

“There are several million unicorns throughout the realms, but I assure you, Livingston, there is only one me.”

Oswin’s almond shaped eyes burned a deep orange. His bright white smile peaked out from behind his dark, supple lips as he bit down on his bottom lip. Livingston squinted his eyes at Oswin before launching his inquisition.

“What’s the catch?” he said.

“I beg your pardon.” Oswin said immediately.

“What’s the catch? Why are you here? Did someone send you?”

Oswin dropped his gaze to his hands and Livingston searched his profile until he looked up.

“No one sent me.” Oswin stated. “But I believe you may not be the proper company?”

“Excuse me?” Livingston said.

“You are both a scientist and a witch, yet you doubt my presence even after the fantastic time we shared?” Oswin challenged.

His thick eyebrows were low over his squinted eyes which burned to a simmering yellow. Livingston drew his knees up to his chest as Oswin took a deep breath.

“Are you that afraid of genuine connection, Livingston? Could it be that I am here because you need me...to believe in me...”

Oswin’s voice was a swatch of velvet as it tickled Livingston’s ears. He let Oswin’s soothing voice caress his skin and dissolved into a mumble.

“It’s not that.” he said. “Magic has only ever brought me trouble. Magic doesn’t really bring good things back to me. That’s why I like science. Everything has a reason—a purpose, Oswin.”

“We have a purpose as well.” Oswin corrected. “Maybe The Divinities brought us together because we both needed this time.”

“The Divinities?” Livingston’s curiosity piqued.

Oswin tucked the tip of his thumb between his teeth as he thought. His locs fell in his face and briefly created a veil between them before Oswin tossed his hair back with a flick of a hand.

“The three sisters - Karma, Kairos, and Kismet – sit by The Omniscope and determine the course of every single person, human or abnormal. I think we’re supposed to be here together, Livingston. I, normally, do not stay in my human form for very long, but for you I would be human forever.”

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luckyluan · 13 days

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The Detectives, Con't.

MARCH 15, 2024 - 11:04PM

“We’ll be the judge of that.” Emmett said.

He pushed his way past Duncan with his usual grimace. Payton nodded at Duncan as the large man stood back and let him in with a sigh. Payton’s eyes swept the apartment from right to left. He did not take his hands out of his pockets as he drifted down the short hallway and into a den area.

“Your neighbors reported some screaming coming from your apartment last night, big man. Which is weird because it’s incredibly rare for a tenant here at Palisade Gardens to call the police on another tenant. So, it must be something serious. Right, Kyle?”

“Right, Jardin.” Payton replied automatically.

“So... talk to us about last night...” Jardin said sternly.

“And where your girlfriend is, please...” Kyle added.

“That’s the thing, officers. You’re not gonna believe me, but she’s here with us right now!” Duncan yelped.

Kyle and Jardin swept their heads across the apartment and then fixed each other with a quizzical look. Jardin’s right eyebrow disappeared into his dark hairline as he cut his eyes at Duncan. Payton shrugged.

“Like...in the bedroom or something?” Payton offered.

“No, officer--” Duncan started.

“Detective.” Jardin corrected.

He peeled back the tough fabric of his trench coat to reveal his badge.

“S-sorry, Detectives,” Duncan launched. “I mean, she’s here in this room with us right now.”

“I think we’re gonna need psych eval on this one.” Jardin mumbled at Payton Kyle.

“Say something, babe. Please.” Duncan called.

An eerie silence fell over them as they waited for an answer to Duncan’s plea. Detective Payton Kyle surreptitiously moved his hand to his handcuffs as the silence pressed on his ears before a light, clear voice sliced through the thickening quiet in the den.

“I’m here. It’s true.” Kiana said.

Jardin instinctively reached for his gun and Payton caught his hand. Jardin jerked his hand away immediately before he put his back on the wall.

“Show yourself.” Jardin commanded. “Now!”

“I can’t, Detective! That’s the problem!” Kiana whimpered. “I’m over here.”

A pair of crimson slippers were swiping through the air as if being used by an aircraft marshal.

“Holy shit.” Jardin gasped. “What the hell is going on here, man. Start talking!”

“Jardin,” Payton said. “I don’t think they’re threats. She’s just...invisible.”

Payton’s grin widened as he looked from Duncan’s relieved expression to Jardin’s look of bewilderment. He nodded to Jardin, and he stowed his weapon. He gave Duncan a knowing wink.

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luckyluan · 14 days

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The King’s Spatula, Con't.

[Xavier’s perspective]

March 14, 2024 - 11:37PM

“We need to talk.” Cordelia said.

She pushed her away past Xavier who grabbed his shoulder as he winced. Cordelia Dair strutted down his short hallway taking in his apartment as if she were a potential subletter seeing the place for the first time.

“You’re that girl from the museum!” Xavier said. “I’m calling the police!”

“You’re seriously gonna call the police on an Abnormal? Your own kind?” She quipped.

Xavier thought for a moment. He wrestled for a counterargument but came up empty-handed. His shoulders sagged as her words finally rang true in his head.

“And let’s face it,” Cordelia said as she picked up a wooden picture frame. “You call the police and tell them I’m here. They get here. They see me. You. AND the trident, we’re all going for a ride. You know I’m right.”

And she was. Xavier knew it.

“Fine.” Xavier folded his arms across his chest. “But I have company.”

Xavier Future drifted, noiselessly, into the front room of his old apartment. He leaned his back on the wall opposite Cordelia and his face broke into a wide grin.

“Long time no see, ‘Delia. Although I guess we’re--technically—meeting for the first time right now.” Xavier Future chided.

“Who the fuck is this?” Cordelia hurled at him.

“You don’t recognize me. I mean, you came to our house, and I don’t think I’ve changed that much. Maybe just the hair.”

“Lady, this is me. I mean, also me—me, but from the future.” Xavier stumbled.

“Huh...” Cordelia grumbled.

“Bruh, this is also Xavier Bridges, but he’s from the future--”

“--Nine years to be exact--” Xavier Future interjected.

“Nine years in the future. He's me and I’m him. Simultaneously.”

“Together.” Both Xaviers said in tandem.

“If I wasn’t Abnormal, this would be the trippiest thing I’ve ever seen. How do you keep this straight in your head? Heads...whatever.”

“Technically, he’s older—or younger—or he came first.” Xavier Future pointed at Xavier Present. “I’m the effect. He’s the cause.”

“So, whatever happens to him...” Cordelia mused.

“Happens to me as well. Please don’t get crafty. We don’t have the time.” Xavier Future sighed.

“So, do you two just call each other Xavier or...”

“He’s X Prime.” Xavier Future said matter-of-factly.

“And he’s X2.” Xavier Present added. “Complicated but kinda makes sense.”

“As long as it makes sense to you...y'all. Fuck, that’s annoying.”

“We know.” The Xaviers quipped together.

“You ready to clue the kid in or do I have to do it?”

X2 grinned at Cordelia as if he knew a secret about her. X Prime looked between them with narrowed eyes trying desperately to pull - from the still, silent air – the history he had not yet lived.

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luckyluan · 15 days

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THE KING’S SPATULA

March 13, 2024 - 11:58pm

“How did he find us?” Xavier breathed.

“I don’t know,” Cordelia hissed at him. “But let’s not stick around to ask.”

Cordelia leapt over Xavier’s sagging brown couch and out of the patio door. Xavier stared after her in bewilderment. The last hour of his life was a whirlwind. His future self was—not too long ago—sitting across from him on his preloved couch and then Cordelia knocked on his door. Now, Gnas and his crew were beating down his front door for the potion he owed them. Xavier came to his senses and hurried through the back door yelling for Cordelia to wait for him.

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luckyluan · 16 days

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THE MAN WHO STOPPED TIME, Con't.

MARCH 12, 2024 – 11:14PM

“Rise and shine, babe. You’re going home today!” Drake’s cheerful voice boomed.

He pushed into Canaan’s room and brought with him the warmth of a Spring Day. Canaan smiled as Drake sat, gingerly, on the end of his narrow bed. Drake moved his hand up Canaan’s thigh until his fiancé swatted at him.

“Ow.” Drake said emphatically. “All this time in the hospital has made you surly...ow! And violent! Nurse!”

Canaan fell into a fit of laughter. He covered his face with his stinging hands and reclined against his flat pillow.

“This week has been awful, Drake.” he said.

“Mmmm...I don’t think ‘awful’ is the right word. I would say...strange to say the least. Your burns, the weird damage to the diner, Rook said some lady randomly caught fire as he was leaving the hospital yesterday.”

“Fucking Rook.” Canaan thought.

His heart skipped a beat as he thought about Rook, a witch with a proclivity for pryo-spells, attacking a patient on the way out and he hurriedly changed the subject.

“Yeah, it’s been...crazy. Crazy two days. Cal here yet?”

“I spoke to him just before I came in. He shouldn’t be too far behind. C’mon, babe. Let’s get you couch ready.”

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luckyluan · 17 days

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The Man Who Stopped Time, Con't.

Also March 11, 2024 - 10:05pm

His tone swam with as much acidity as Drake’s tone, but there was an heir of extra layer of venom. Canaan gave Rook a kick in the thigh as his eyes glowed dangerously bright.

“Ow.” Rook exclaimed.

“Sorry, just looking for the remote.” Canaan said sheepishly. “What are you doing on this side of the hospital, babe?”

“I was coming to check on you...my fiancé...to whom I am engaged.” Drake said sarcastically.

“I get it. Happily in love. Move on.” Rook rolled his eyes.

“I see you’re well-tended.” Drake said somberly. “I’ll leave you two to your whispers.”

“Wait--” Canaan called.

“Bye.” Rook shouted.

The heavy door of his hospital room swung shut with an imperceptible click and Canaan aimed a closed fist at Rook’s shoulder.

“Why did you do that?” Canaan exclaimed. “He’s already curious! I’ve been trying to—uhh—cajole him into being a fan of yours and that did not help.”

“I can’t help it.” Rook started. “Something about that guy doesn’t sit right with me.”

“You say that about everyone.” Canaan countered.

“Yeah, but this time, it’s different.” Rook mused.

“Is it different because it’s different or is it different because you don’t care for him?”

“That could be it. You know us Tuners are super sensitive. Might be a bit out of whack.”

“You read minds. You know how to control your own damn mind, Rook. What you need to be doing is tuning him so I can see how he feels about magic!”

Rook leaned over Canaan’s wearing a look of disbelief.

“Canaan Amari Blanchard. You still haven’t told your fiancé he’s marrying a witch? A Blanchard witch to boot?!”

Canaan turned his head to the window and folded his arms over his chest. The IV port jiggled as he opened and closed his fist.

“The timing hasn’t been right.” he said.

“Sure it hasn’t, Cane.” Rook empathized. “I don’t need to tune either of you to know you’re gonna have to tell him sooner or later.”

“I know. I know. I just...I need more time.” Canaan pleaded.

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luckyluan · 17 days

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The Man Who Stopped Time, Con't.

MARCH 11, 2024 - 10:05PM

“Well, well. If it isn’t the invalid.” Rook mocked.

Rook Jeffries floated into Canaan’s brightly lit hospital room carrying a single balloon in the shape of the sun and it wore dots for eyes and a curved line as a smile. Rook’s slim figure was clad in a loose henley, and dark jeans rolled at the ankle to reveal mismatch socks tucked inside a pair of suede dress shoes. His hair was neatly lined and faded up to the crown of his head. His dark hair, like the ocean, crested in shiny waves in a radiating pattern. He was a ray of light. Rook’s beaming smile and lax energy rubbed off on Canaan instantly; and he began to soften.

“Liv called. I came as soon as I heard.” Rook said.

“Livingston called you yesterday, fool, and I had no idea you two were at the nickname stage of friendship.” Canaan countered.

“I had to process the information—the trauma I experienced when I heard the new, Cane. Give me some credit.” Rook exaggerated. “The guy grew on me, okay? He’s cool people.”

“Sure.” Canaan said plainly.

“So, what happened?” Rook asked. “Liv said you used your powers and then you fainted.”

Canaan threw a weary glance toward the door before dipping into whispers and Rook leaned in.

“It’s not that simple!” he said. “It’s like my powers are magnified. Ever since I touched that artifact at work, it’s like my entire abnormality feels ...heightened.”

“So, your powers grew?” Rook asked. “You stop time on a small scale. Your powers grow as you grow. Makes sense. Nothing wrong with that.”

“Nooo....that’s not it.” Canaan whispered furiously. “Drake says I wasn’t out long, but something ...else happened while I was down. I think I went back in time.”

“How’s my favorite patient doing in here? Oh...hello, Rookley.”

Drake’s dry greeting unzipped the supple air down the middle and undressed the pleasant atmosphere with a single, clipped mention of Rook’s full first name.

“Drakely.” Rook said.

<--continued in next post-->

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