#ljuuga

𝙰  𝙵𝚄𝙲𝙺𝙴𝙳  𝚄𝙿  𝙺𝙸𝚂𝚂𝙸𝙽𝙶  𝙼𝙴𝙼𝙴 : OPEN

THERE WAS SNOW ON HIS BEDSHEETS . shadow shifted his legs under the thin blankets the motel had provided him with and watched the white layer roll off onto the carpet. he thought that perhaps he had left a window open. perhaps the snow he had taught up had gotten inside his room that way. but everything was shut. every window, every curtain, every door. there was no crack that would have let ANYTHING IN . slowly , the ex-con got up from his bed , untangling himself from the snow covered sheets only find out the floor of his motel room in a similar condition. his feet burned against the cold surface and his breath condensed in the air. he thought about putting a shirt on , maybe dress in layers like his mother always told him to , but quickly came to realise HE DIDN’T FEEL COLD . 

 ❝   everything’s so fucked. ❞   shadow muttered to the person sitting beside him on the edge of the bed. at first he thought it might have been mr. world but then, upon further inspection, he decided it was someone else. they said something witty but reassuring in return and shadow felt relieved, though he wouldn’t be able to tell anyone why .  the words spoken resonated within him but didn’t stick . as soon as the other person spoke, shadow seemed to immediately forget the sound of their voice . shadow felt the freshness of the air fill his lungs as he stared the man down. he knew him so well and yet, shadow couldn’t bring himself to REMEMBER.  it was all there ! the wide pale eyes that bore into him like fishing hooks, the rows of scars decorating his mouth that had made shadow wonder so many times but never actually ask … and somehow he knew, he just knew, there were hundreds of freckles spread across the man’s shoulders, now hidden by a thick coat. his lips were stuck in a constant smirk. but shadow wouldn’t remember that either.

all shadow knew was that he knew him and that he knew shadow and that maybe, perhaps ( he wasn’t sure ) they had known each other their whole lives. the person he knew but didn’t remember spoke again. something funny, shadow thought. probably meant to tease him. it was he who reached out first though shadow wouldn’t remember whether it was out of frustration, need or SOMETHING ELSE. his hand grabbed onto the back of his visitor’s neck and pulled him in. the kiss was tender at first. a soft and chaste thing that slowly grew into something deeper and darker. snowfall turned into a thunderstorm. fingers dug into flesh, catching some hair between them, urging lips to part and breath to falter. his cheeks burned against the other’s skin. shadow couldn’t tell if it was the man he couldn’t remember who was cold as ice or if he was the one burning up. there’s a sound which spills from one of their mouths. shadow wakes up in his motel bed, snow free, mumbling to himself.

          ━━━━   his wrinkled brow arched upwards when hearing loki , his words immediately catching his attention from across the table . the piss poor lighting hanging above them did a good job at casting shadows upon their features, but they could not hide THAT WHICH WAS AMISS . an eye from wednesday’s right socket and a piece of leather from loki’s scarred lips. both of them had lost access to certain luxuries most took for granted . but because their stories had pleased the people who had created them, they had both been REWARDED in other ways. after all, worship was a two way street : if you’re kind to your gods you get compensated . and if the gods are kind to you, they get LONGEVITY. mr. wednesday leaned over the suspiciously humid surface between them , not looking the least bit bothered by the fact that his creme sleeve might now be plagued with the corrosive pine scent of cheap cleaning supplies.    ❝   loptr , my boy , if the day ever comes in which you might find me the least bit inclined to say nay to such an outrageous offer from your part ,   ❞       his voice lowered into a dark rumble. although his tone seemed to indicate that a storm was near , a wide dazzling smile was still easily spread across the old fraud’s thin lips.         

* 𝙼𝙰𝙽𝙷𝙰𝙽𝙳𝙻𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝙼𝙴𝙼𝙴 : OPEN

    the smoke spilling out of lowkey’s mouth and nostrils was pale and thick. there was something insidious in the way it curled around the man’s head. like snakes tightening their grip on their prey … shadow had to assure himself, however, that he only thought of these things because lowkey had revealed his true nature to him : he had been a lackey to the new gods this whole time. all the time spent together had been fabricated , A FORCED ALLIANCE weaved by robotic hands . dark eyes squinted when some of the smoke brushed over his face . he was surprised to find that THAT wasn’t the thing that bothered him the most about lowkey   ━━  LOKI .  it wasn’t his alliance or his intentions … it was the TIMELINE : the possibility that he might have been driving that very same limo the night shadow had met technical boy.

                       ❝     so, what now?  ❞      he asked with both arms crossed over his chest, eyeing the mythological chauffeur next to him with a sharp stare.       ❝    you gonna try wrapping a rope around my neck too?  ❞     the way shadow spoke seemed horribly casual. like he was actually expecting a honest answer out of the god. like he ACTUALLY NEEDED TO KNOW THIS. but all he got were smoke rings. this conversation wasn’t flowing QUICKLY ENOUGH FOR HIM. shadow stood up straight, using his full height as a form of intimidation. he stood in front of loki, shoulders tense and broad … and still, the other man looked as if he was the one in control. as if HE knew something shadow didn’t.       ❝    were you there? the night i almost died?  ❞      shadow could feel his jaw clenching, the muscles on his neck tightening. he was trying to keep sentimentalism out of this. the urge to be honest was DANGEROUS ; but shadow would have taken a bullet for him back in prison. and he could have sworn lowkey would have done the same for him.

SPONSORED BY   @ljuuga​ /   THE SECRET HISTORY:   ACCEPTING !

    𝙸𝙽𝙵𝙾𝚁𝙼𝙰𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽 𝙰𝙶𝙴       /    we live in the golden time of disseminated knowledge  !   know your sources  ,  if you wouldn’t bet your life on it don’t repeat it.    ONE  ,  TWO  ,  CLICK  !    shared  ,  spread like wildfire  ,  facebook   /   fake news.   legs cross and a sharks smile plays across perfectly colored lips  ,  oh aren’t you pretty as a picture  ?   there’s a coo stuck behind porcelain teeth.     AND JUST  WHO  ARE YOU TALKING TO  ?    cybernetic eyes blink  ,  a look of manufactured affront marrs flawless features  ,  there’s a feeling bubbling up in their chest  ,  something that makes their skin crawl  ,  their smile falter.   CALL OUT:    this old trickster is living up to his brand.    

A room as small as this could feel as giant as a golden gilded hall when enough words were spoken and enough time passed between hollers and shouts from the inmates down the hall. Lowkey felt at ease, somewhat at home, not fearing for his own life or that of the beam of sunshine ahead of him. It felt easy and simple, and better than what prison was supposed to be… but then, he’d been used to imprisonment being a whole different kind of deal. This was practically heavenly, made him feel all tingly and excited for all the reasons one could list in a dictionary under ‘intriguing sensations’. Good andbad.

So he grinned, at Shadow’s size comment and winks with a click of his tongue. “You know it,” even if he didn’t it was typical banter easily picked up by hanging around these parts for a while. The good thing about Shadow though was the mish-mash of well-thought-out thoughts and sentences with impulsive little snippets, making a conversation flow with a sense of humor a lot of other creations in this world could learn from.

“There’s this dumb-fuck sayin’ that a man’s just a reflection of his daddy, like he ain’t nothin’ more than the chewed up brittle and muscle that man left behind at some dinner table he done left without a word. I say that’s bullshit, mm-hmm, y’hear? Good on you for not givin’ two shits about him,” lord knows I wish I could, “good on you for gettin’ past that piss-poor excuse for keepin’ blood close. Family don’t have to be about who sired you or changed your damn nappie, it don’t mean jack shit if it done nothin’ but harm you in your formative years. Y’know?”

He lifts a foot with a pale sock to nudge against Shadow’s knee, once, twice, giving a snarling grin after a moment of seriousness. It’s too much of that heavy bitterness and Lowkey can taste it on the tips of his split tongue, so he needs to clear the air a bit. Fuck around, make jokes, play his part.

“Hey– fetch the checkerboard huh?” he nods upwards, large, green eyes peering towards the metal toilet in the corner. Behind the large metal box with softened edges, there was a piece of brown cardboard with a checkerboard drawn up with mascara someone had traded with the women across the block for some male deodorant. Stored in the thick of Lowkey’s paper-thin pillow was two sets of checkers made of bottlecaps from toothpaste, one set dyed a weird pink color from some lipstick… another trade. For a self-made shank made out of a melted toothbrush and half a razor-blade.

Ssh. Don’t tell no-one.

“One day we oughta get enough pieces to play some damn chess instead. Game of the great minds. Teach you some strategy.”

Shadow had gotten used to his bunkmate’s long-winded monologues by now. When first meeting Lowkey he had been somewhat annoyed ; Shadow had never met anyone who enjoyed the sound of their own voice that much. And because Shadow didn’t know what type of man Lowkey was or what type of man HE WOULD BE in prison, he had preferred to keep his distance. Staring off into the distance while he spoke, thinking of Laura, thinking of the time he had left, of the people he shouldn’t meddle with   ━━   But as the months passed and he began to get comfortable with the idea of being caged , Shadow realized that he didn’t mind the other inmate’s yapping at all. In fact, he came to quite like it. He had never been much of a talker himself ; Shadow lacked the wit and charisma that it took to get others to listen to him , so it was Lowkey who took care of filling that awful incarceration hours with stories. Some better than others, but still,  better than the silence that crept in the darkness , threatening Shadow with thoughts of despair and fear .

               ❝   You’re not your father.❞     He felt that Lowkey needed to hear that. Or maybe it was Shadow who needed to say it out loud. To not know his father was both a blessing and a curse. He had been left in limbo, forever wondering who or what he might have been if he had met him. Would his mother have lived longer? Would he have become someone better? Would he have ever gotten thrown in jail at the same time as Lowey? He glanced at him then. The way the other man’s lower teeth were bared whenever he spoke always made it seem as if each and every word he spoke was felt deep in his gut. The subject was corrosive for both of them. So Shadow was somewhat relieved to feel a foot poking at his leg. He offered a small smile to the other inmate before playfully grabbing his ankle and pushing it away. 

He got up from the bed, rubbing the back of his neck after finally standing up straight for the first time in a while. Everything felt smaller in jail. Even when they went outside and the sun touched his skin, there always seemed to be a dome over their heads ; CLOUDS PREGNANT WITH SNOW THAT WOULDN’T FALL. He wondered if even the weather had suspended itself until Shadow got out.    ━━    He hoped it hadn’t. The air around him felt thicker than ever, some release might have helped Shadow to ignore the strange feeling that something SHARP WAS ABOUT TO BE DROPPED ON HIM. He reached for the checkered cardboard and tossed it on the mattress between the two of them.

          𝑺𝑯𝑨𝑹𝑷 𝑻𝑯𝑶𝑹𝑵𝑬𝑫 𝑩𝑹𝑰𝑮𝑯𝑻 𝑬𝒀𝑬𝑫 𝑻𝑯𝑰𝑵𝑮      /   the humor of tricksters is edged gold  ,  as nature ingrained as the sting of nettles  ,  and sweeney knows a thing or two about fighting nature.  memory is leaf green  ,  sun languid   ,  memory is a hazy shifting thing  , and in the recesses of his mind he sees blurred canopies and feels harsh bark.  cotton blend sticks to the small of his back  ,  plastered on with sweat  ,  molded to frame   ,  the cloaks of statue saints.   there is nothing sinuous about him  ,  nothing slinking and shivering and and patient.        O’ FATHER MADE ME A BIRD OF PREY  !      your anger sounds like a hunting scream in the night   ,   YOUR ANGER   :   a primal animal savageness built up in the cage of your chest  ,   the way a man drifts.    eyes shut tight on hard-edged words  ,  fingers clenched in palms flushed red   —–     pressed white.      skin littered with the scars of a life lived  ,   mind littered with a gripping rage.  he could no more blame the old god for his nature than he could himself for his    madness.   the problem he thinks  ,  eyes trace the frame of god before him  ,  holiness less hushed than the cathedrals pastel bright with stained glass.   the problem with old gods  ,  a drink to begin and end  ,  our compact is over at the end of the glass.   no need to sip cautiously when your fate is sealed.

nonverbal starters | accepting

   ( 🤨 Sit down across from my muse )

A sigh. Long and not the least bit hidden as he felt someone slide into the opposite side of the booth to him. Smoke swirling from his nose on the exhale. The cigarette he had been stubbing out, getting jammed against the bottom of the ashtray that little bit more vigorously. An ashtray that probably hadn’t been properly cleaned since the place opened…some would say that’s what gave it it’s charm. The smell of old tobacco and cheap liquor made for good bedfellows when you wanted an atmosphere thick enough to lose the rest of the world in.

Resting back, one arm curled along the back of the leather seat, the neck of the whiskey bottle on the table is grabbed. The glass ridges at the bottom of it sliding and scratching over the table top carelessly as eyes latched to the newcomer. The Leprechaun’s stare bored and maybe just slightly exasperated. Using the same hand on the bottles neck to unscrew it’s cap. Nudging it free and lifting it. Pouring carelessly into his own glass. 

   ‘ I’m not lookin’ for company right now…nor am I looking for any fuckin’ cryptic riddles disguised as life advice, fortune telling, palm reading or to purchase crack. One or all of which are likely gonna come out of your fuckin’ yap. Can’t a man drink in peace?  ’

A snicker sounds, like a hyena circling a kill provided by a lion. Too bad the meat is already rotten, too bad the fresh blood perfect for sacrifice had already been replaced with fake fluids and most of her veins had run dry like rivers exposed to the hot sun. His thin neck tilts his sharp face and scarred hands and wrists stay put, safely tugged away in deep pockets of his jacket. There’s something otherworldly about her that is intriguing, but he ain’t exactly threatened. Last time he saw a corpse strike against a god it ended in an implosion of rotting flesh and the god taking long baths in milk and honey just to get the stench out.

“What,, you think I’m tryin’ to fool you or somethin’? I swear, cross my damn heart – I was Shadow’s bunkmate. Top bunk, too… Don’t tell me that surprises you. He always seemed like a bottom-boy to me…”

The innuendo isn’t even cleverly disguised, nah, he can tell she’s the top dog in that relationship and what other reason could you have for calling such a big, brute of a man ‘Puppy’ as a pet name? She’s the boss there. Reminds Lowkey of another creature he knows very intimately.

“You out lookin’ for him? Don’t tell me he left you at the altar– I mean, the grave.”

Laura couldn’t say she was getting used to the new reality of her life. But, she was finding that at times, it was like the life she had, when she was alive: boring.  Not only that, it was impossible for her to pass as alive, given how much her body still continued to decompose, no matter what she did.  She liked the strength sure, and her blunt words weren’t exactly tied to her lack of a peaceful afterlife. She’d never been someone to not say what she was thinking.  But, she did like a bit of adventure.  Was it really that much for her to ask?

She was looking for Shadow.  She wanted to find him, she needed to.  She didn’t care what Wednesday or what anyone else said about it. Shadow was her husband, even if they technically had passed death do us part, and he still seemed annoyed about that whole thing with his best friend.  But, she had come across someone and she watched him as he spoke.

“Bunkmate, really?” Her voice was incredulous, as she tried to decide if she believed it or not.  But, what reason did he have to lie.  Her eyes rolled at his words.  “Shadow is whatever suits him, whatever I ask really.”  She called Shadow “Puppy’ for a reason but he was her puppy, and she didn’t like how things were.  Maybe if she had any real time with him, she could feel alive.