#I really want people to have access to this one

[froggiewrites]

Can u do a friends with benefits smut with Luffy? lots of creampie and different sex positions please if not I understand

I need to write more for Luffy, so thank you for giving me a chance to explore him a little more! I really hope you enjoy this one, it's on the shorter side but I still had a lot of fun with it 😊

That's What Friends Are For

Pairing: Luffy x Reader

NSFW

Summary: Your Captain needs a little stress relief, and as his friend you're more than willing to help. Warnings: Fem!Reader, Smut, Friends With Benefits, Vaginal Sex Word Count: 1.2k

If anybody asked, you would say you were very close with your Captain. The terms other people apply to your relationship often differ: some say best friends, some say partners in crime, or a dozen other names that don’t quite encapsulate the entirety of your feelings for each other.

To be fair, you don’t quite know what to call your Captain either. Sure, he’s your best friend. He’s your guiding light, your North Star, your inspiration. But you don’t think those quite describe your relationship in its entirety. No one would expect your guiding light to grab you off of the deck and drag you into a closet, bend you over a crate, and have his way with you.

One hand grabs your ankle, dragging it up over his shoulder, while the other makes quick work of your shorts and panties, discarding them with ease. His own clothes are already gone, probably strewn down the hallway after he threw you over his shoulder. His hat is hanging off of a broomstick in the corner, and you can’t help but smile a little. He used to keep it on, but noticed quickly how much you love running your hands through his hair, tugging it to direct him where you want him. Now it always sits off to the side, close by but never blocking your access to his head.

“C’mon,” he whines, bringing your attention back to him. His hands are trying to pull your thighs apart further to grant himself better access, and he’s quickly growing impatient. He’s had a hard few days, with several rough battles that left you all beaten and bloodied. He needs some stress relief, and you both found that you’re the best release he has. “Why’re you making me wait?”

You barely manage to hold back a laugh, letting him maneuver you as he pleases. You squeal as he pushes you further up the crate, forcing you to brace yourself with your hands so you don’t hit the wall in front of you. “Luffy!”

He laughs, the sound so joyous you immediately forget to be annoyed. “Callin’ my name already?” Before you can scold him, he presses himself against you, immediately taking your breath away. He rubs himself against you a couple times, relishing in the feeling of his hardness against your folds, in the soft whimpering breaths and moans you can’t stop from slipping out of your mouth. “I’m barely doing anything,” he teases, rubbing deliberately against your clit, “and you’re already a mess.”

“I thought I told you not to tease me anymore,” you murmur, eyelids fluttering.

He laughs again, his hand running affectionately down your back. The other drops your ankle for a moment, and before you know it he’s lined himself up with your entrance and without a moment’s hesitation fully sheathes himself inside of you. You cry out, back arching and eyes closing. Your chest brushes against the wood beneath you, the rough sensation against your sensitive nipples just adding to the myriad of sensations overwhelming you. Luffy hardly gives you a moment to adjust before he’s pounding into you, taking what he needs from you and trusting you can handle it.

Every thrust of his hips is followed by a deliciously tortuous drag of his skin against yours, leaving a horrible feeling of emptiness immediately followed by the mind numbing pleasure of being completely filled. His pace is unrelenting, as he is in everything else. He never takes it easy on you, especially not when he’s as pent up as he is. On a normal day, he’d be whispering in your ears, laughter in his voice as he describes everything he’s going to do to you, but today he can hardly let out a sound beyond a moan or a whine. He says your name once or twice, immediately trailing off and letting his face fall into your neck. It’s there he decides to stay, nibbling on any exposed skin he can find: your pulse point, your neck, your jaw. At one point he nips at your cheek, causing you both to pause for a moment before falling into laughter.

He takes advantage of the pause in thrusts to flip you around, gathering you in his arms and pulling you impossibly closer. He captures your lips against his instantly, your laughter muffled against each other before losing yourself in the moment again. Your hands find his hair, running your fingers through it, catching on every tangle the wind has lovingly tied in it. He makes a small whine against your lips every time your fingers tug on the knots, and you can’t quite tell if they’re in complaint or pleasure.

His pace has gone from frantic to bruising as he pushes you against the wall, his body pressing against every inch of yours. You can feel the rough brush of his pubes against your skin, and the sharp drag of his teeth against your bottom lip as he pulls away, panting.

“You ready?” He asks quietly, a shine in his eye. He always checks in on you, though you don’t think he does it for your sake. He’s too good at reading people to need to hear you say it. You think he just likes hearing you so out of breath and desperate for him, as close to begging as he can get you. He’s too impatient for the real thing, unwilling to make either of you wait for gratification.

“Yes, please, Luffy!” You cry, louder than you should. Half of the damn ship probably just heard that, but Luffy doesn’t seem worried, simply grinning wider before pulling you back in for another kiss. Your teeth clack together, your noses bumping, but neither of you are bothered by the clumsiness. You’re too distracted by the rising tension in your muscles, the drag of your nails down Luffy’s back as you grow closer to the edge.

One of his hands wanders down, his rough fingertips rubbing small circles against your clit, the practiced motion quickly pushing you to your brink. You moan against his lips as your legs pull him closer, your muscles tightening around his shaft. It doesn’t take long for him to follow you, his hips finally stilling against yours as he pushes as deep as he physically can and shoots his warmth inside of you. You sit in silence for a moment, foreheads pressed together, both panting. You can’t seem to catch your breath, focused too deeply on the heat of his body and the feeling of fullness.

It’s with great reluctance he pulls away from you, setting you on the crate and pulling out, cum dripping down your thighs and onto the wood beneath you. He takes a moment to admire the sight, leaning down slightly for a better look. He huffs in quiet satisfaction before he gets up, a familiar relaxed grin on his face. All of his earlier tension is gone. “Thanks,” he says, as though it’s the most natural thing in the world.

You can’t help but laugh. “Anytime, Luffy.”

There’s a gleam in his eye that makes you think he’ll take advantage of that promise if you let him.

Tag List: @pandora-writes-one-piece @shy-writer-999 @dreamcastgirl99 @eggrollforyou

[maxtermind]

angry sex with lestappen where you're jealous mad at charles because he was flirting with– talking innocently to– someone else.

you know it wasn’t flirting, not really. charles is just like that– smiles too much, stands too close, tilts his head when he listens like every word matters. and it pisses you the fuck off.

being aware doesn’t really stop the ugly burn from flaring in your chest though and it's no spoiler that it ends up hurting your boyfriends too.

you saw the way she touched his arm, saw how he laughed, soft and just for her, and for the rest of the evening you couldn’t look at him without tasting blood in your mouth.

charles, oblivious at first, kept asking what was wrong.

and when you didn’t answer, he simply stopped asking, hoping max will sort this out. max does try, he tries to get you to talk and loosen up but now?

max is angry at you for giving him the silent treatment as well because he knows he hasn't done anything wrong but has to suffer because of his dumbass boyfriend.

max hates being caught in the middle.

he’s not subtle about it either– slamming cabinets in the kitchen, snapping at both of you.

“you two are ridiculous,” he mutters, pacing like a storm in bare feet and boxer briefs.

he didn’t do anything. and yet somehow he’s been cut out of the warmth– left in the cold with two stubborn idiots who won't talk to each other.

you won’t let max touch you. charles won’t touch max. max is burning as well with nothing to hold on to.

charles who is mad at max for not taking his side and trying to clear his name off alone. he didn’t ask for a rescue, but god, didn't max love him enough to put him first? he wanted an out.

wanted max to roll his eyes and say “charles doesn’t even notice when people flirt with him. trust me. it's nothing.”

wanted someone in his corner when he saw the press speculating, when you walked away from him without a word.

he felt abandoned. his mouth twists bitter when he accepts it.

“i was getting attacked out there and you just stood there.”

max only shrugs, jaw clenched.

“what, so now you think it's my fault too?”

you laugh, dry and sharp, and that’s the final crack. your display of nonchalance makes max crack.

rough hands, snarky comments and a few eye rolls later–

they both have you pinned on the bed.

charles’s mouth on your bare skin, hands gripping your hips. pressing kisses against your waist, trying to get more access.

max’s fingers in your hair, his voice low and furious in your ear as he rolls a nipple between his fingers.

“baby, you could’ve just told us you were jealous.”

you gasp as charles bites down– not gentle, not soft. it hurts and you glare at him as your eyes well up.

“you hurt me,” he says between teeth and tongue, voice breaking. his reasoning made sense, he was only hurting you back. ignoring how you clenched around nothing, you sigh.

max pushes your legs open wider with a gentle hand. the guilt hits you hard. you shouldn't have given him the silent treatment over something charles did and as you're about to speak up and apologise-

“you don’t get to ignore us and then act like the victim.”

your body burns with it- all of it.

shame, want, anger, love.

it’s rough. fast and out of this world. the way they make you feel is out of this world and it is making your thoughts messy, more honest. they make you melt in their hold, your back arching as you try to chase the orgasm you are denied once again.

you whine, over it this time. the conversation in bruises and sweat and desperate friction has forgiven it all.

charles chokes on a moan as you tug his curls, urging him to press his lips against yours.

max bites your shoulder as you arch into him, his fingers deep, arching to find that one spot he knows will only driver you more desperate.

hands all over. sweat and spit marking you as theirs.

no rhythm, no coordination, just need. three people trying to claw their way back into each other.

charles is the one breaking first, apologising for nothing really. you don't remember now.

afterward, the room is quiet but not calm. you finally are granted the orgasm you wanted. your lovers basking in the little twitches and sounds of your body.

you’re tangled in sheets and sore all over, skin humming with every fingerprint and bite mark they left.

charles has his head on your chest, eyes wet.

“i’m sorry,” he whispers, voice raw. “i don't wa-want anyond but you both.”

you kiss his forehead. heart finally slowing down a bit.

“i know. i love you too.”

he breathes out like it hurts still as if he thought you'd never say it to him again. what a fool.

max slides an arm across both your waists, pulling you into him.

still frustrated so he presses a kiss to your lips when you try to speak up again. that's just who max was. this is why it's easy to get mad at him.

he never stays mad, hes the rational, the one who understands and lets go of stuff when needed but still silently furious at how easily you took advantage of that.

you make a note to make upto him later, he wasn't going anywhere anyway. instead you both comfort charles. the one who breaks the earliest in between you all.

you wonder if max ever thinks of leaving you both. you're too dependent on him, emotionally, mentally, physically.

but he's still there. you let out a sign of relief. kissing him this time instead. scared yet reassured. gentle yet harsh. comforting yet hurtful.

and that’s love, isn’t it? not clean. not easy.

just real, and aching, understanding, despite the anger, still trying.

©maxtermind // do not copy, rewrite or translate any of my work on any platforms.

[possesseddesiress]

Suit Up, Switch Off

CONTENT WARNING: This story includes themes of transformation and body control with a suggestive approach. If this type of narrative is not to your liking or you do not meet the recommended age, we suggest you do not continue. All images used (if any) belong to their respective owners. I claim no authorship over them and they are only used for illustrative purposes.

If you decide to go ahead, welcome to Possessed Desires, where mind and body are never completely under your control.

Suit Up, Switch Off

My name is Elliot, I'm about to start college and I've been single all my life.

I don't consider myself very attractive. And I guess that's why, plus I live in a small town lost in nowhere, it's very uncommon for someone to come out as gay in these parts.

Also, I was very nerdy, what's that got to do with it? Almost nothing really, but for as long as I could remember I'd loved superheroes: their muscles bulging in those suits that left nothing to the imagination, the spandex straining to contain those huge biceps, their strength in their pecs... I always wanted to be like that, although it was obviously a dream that never came true.

So I became a fan of hero movies or cosplayers. I loved seeing how the costumes looked on their manicured bodies, the bulges in the right places. And how hot they looked.

I'd had a lot of part-time jobs, mostly to save for college, though the odd bit of money I kept for my tastes. Among them: subscription sites.

I followed various cosplayers who uploaded content to their own pages, modeling their superhero costumes (some in less “everyday” poses), or without much clothing. Even with themes like hypnosis, bondage, and things a bit more... strange.

All of that seemed to feed my fantasies more and more, not because I wanted to be with such people (though I wouldn't complain if that were the case), but I wanted to be them.

Flexing those muscles, that I looked like that in those tight suits.

There was one in particular, though: Jason.

He was quite muscular, his suits fit him perfectly, and he had something in his face... that made him look like a mix between a nerd and an ideal himbo.

And I followed him everywhere, on his social networks, on his private and subscription channels. I was fascinated; that day he was live.

- Hello everyone! - he said with that excited air - I wanted to give you an announcement, rather, two - he smiled - First, how do you like my new Spiderman costume?

He lowered the camera to focus on his muscles, bounced his pecs with a soft laugh and brought the camera back up to his face.

- And, the platform has activated a new feature, I didn't really pay much attention to the email I got but, I have to be honest with you. Debuting this feature had a great payoff, so I decided to go for it! I think it's a "Meet And Greet" or something like that, it was called something like... Be Me. I don't remember the truth if I'm being honest.

He shook his head and typed a couple of things.

- Okay. This makes a list of all those who are subscribed and watching the video, then it will make a draw and... Well, the rest is what I didn't read - he laughed at himself - You just have to allow access to your accounts. Ready?

A roulette appeared on the screen, there were at least four hundred names there, or more. It immediately began to advance, for what felt like hours, until it slowed down little by little. And then stopped to burst into confetti enveloping the winner's name: Elliot Higgins.

- Congratulations, Elliot! - Jason smiled, leaning back in his chair as the suit thundered softly from containing his big, juicy muscles - Just give access to your account and... Well, we'll catch up later, I guess.

Immediately a message appeared on my screen. A huge “Do you accept?” message, there was a privacy notice underneath, but that looked huge. I didn't want to waste any more time, so I automatically selected the option.

The message disappeared and my screen suddenly went black. I thought maybe it was the battery, so I pressed the power button a couple of times to no avail. And when I was about to do it again, it was like feeling an electric charge run through my whole body.

My room was plunged into darkness as I felt strong spasms, my sight was filled with fuzzy colors that looked like wires, static noises and darkness again.

Until something seemed to pull me into the light and I came to myself. I had to blink hard, trying to focus on everything that was spinning around me.

- Shit, my head... - I muttered. I felt heavy, but it wasn't that fat heavy feeling I was used to, it was... very different.

I brought my hand to my forehead to try to ease the pain, but then I felt something against my skin. It was... cloth?

I opened my eyes wider, also feeling a weight on my nose, touched my face, bumping into glasses. But I never wore glasses.

I looked at my hands, now gloved in red and blue cloth with white textured reliefs. And finally, I saw the screen. Jason was there, but it seemed almost like a reflection, every action I did, he replicated it.

- Holy shit! - I smiled taking the camera, totally delighted with my new form - I'm him!

I let out a laugh somewhere between nervous and excited. Starting to feel Jason's muscles through the suit, I could feel how it tensed at the slightest flex.

I could feel my huge biceps, my sensitive pectorals through his reliefs, my fat, fleshy buttocks! I could feel everything, it was all mine now.

I took a closer look at the transmission, which seemed to be going crazy for what was happening. I started reading the comments, there was one in particular that caught my attention:

《 Jason didn't read things right before activating the feature. Be Me is an experimental function that allows two people to switch bodies for a certain amount of time 》

Some people called that subscriber a liar or crazy, but I denied excitedly.

- No, no! Not at all, he's right! I'm not Jason

I let out a laugh again. And the chat went crazy, again.

《 How does it feel to be in it? 》 - I blanched at the question.

- Well... It feels good, I think.

It seemed I was still just as nervous and awkward as my previous body. Though that didn't stop me from weighing and squeezing my pecs like careless.

《 You show us the suit now! 》

My heart was pounding. Jason had a body to die for, yes. But he was one of those kind of content creators who only uploaded his content “half-heartedly”, he didn't show very detailed stuff, he always tried to cover up with his hand below his hip, he didn't show from behind either.

He was just someone who liked to disguise himself... but not so much when other people said “naughty” comments about his body.

I stood still, in shock for a moment.

《 Well? 》 《 Yes, do it!》 《 Show everything! 》 《 I hope this guy isn't a prude too 》

My heart was pounding. However... Wasn't this what I always wished for? I wanted to be this strong. To have those suits like this look on me... To have these huge muscles.

I immediately spread my legs, sitting on the chair and leaning back in a dominant way.

- Not at all. You're coming for this, aren't you? - I flexed my new arms, stroked my pecs and felt my shaft begin to harden. I drew an arrogant expression on my face.

I kept rubbing my pecs until I hit one of my new nipples. A goofy expression formed as I grinned, and I began to pull them harder and more insistently, twisted them and gasped. It hurt a little, but all the pleasure coursed through my body like pure electricity, my feet curling and tensing as I grinned like an idiot.

- Hell... - I stammered.

But that didn't stop me from continuing to stroke myself like a deranged maniac.

My manhood was constantly bumping and rubbing against the suit, even I cupped my spandex pants, grabbing them from side to side to start forming a sort of back-and-forth. Which made me feel even more ecstatic.

- You guys would love to have me like this, wouldn't you?

I raised the camera again to give them an even better view of this body, in all its splendor.

- No filters, no limitations. This is the content they want from me... Just a silly himbo enjoying himself.

I bounced my pecs like balls, I was really loving the feel of every muscle wrapped tightly in the spandex. I also lifted his armpit, letting out a sigh from the sweat.

- Boy, does he stink! - I let out a laugh - apparently our good Jason loves to smell like sweat.

I pressed my face more against my armpit, enjoying the accumulated stench. My hand was rubbing insistently against my bulge. Then it slid down to find the cleft between his buttocks, to which I let out a gasp. I started rubbing the area with my new thick fingers over and over again, my face was flushed.

- Ah, ah! - I grinned like a moron, enjoying the sensation. I peeled my fingers off only to bring them to my nose, smiling even more at the smell of thick sweat. I rubbed my gloved fingers over and over against my nose with a satisfied smile.

- Do you like this new Jason better?

I said inhaling again and again my dumb, stinky, delicious jock scent... I flexed my arms more, I loved the feeling of power, of strength, extremely masculine and hot... And mine alone. A sense of arrogance rose from my loins along with me tool hard against the suit.

- You wish you were me, don't you, losers? - I let out a laugh rubbing the bulge more, feeling how I was about to be done in no time - To have all of this.

I flexed one last time before I felt strings and strands of thick goo coming out, my breathing labored and choppy, I ended up leaning back in the chair.

- Shit...

I closed my eyes. I felt that dizziness again and everything went black, just for an instant. But when I opened my eyes again, I still found Jason's room.

It turned out that "Be Me" had an error rate where people did not return to their original body, but stayed that way. And even better - for me, of course - there was also a tiny percentage that would forget their identity, and fit into their new body.

Just what happened to Jason. He now believed that he was Elliot all his life.

And I fit perfectly into his life. I continued to use the platforms he had for his content, although of course I increased the profits by dropping the prude attitude that old Jason had.

They all wanted this, and that they would get.

Did they want to see my huge, juicy buttocks? Granted.

Did they want to see my stinky feet? Of course, I could even stick them in my mouth just to keep them happy.

I kept working out on his body, making my muscles even bigger. I loved how they showed through the clothes, how tight the sleeves looked and even better, my pecs: fat, firm and round, even the slightest movement made them bounce.

I loved my scent too, it was intoxicating, I would end up exhausted from the gym and would rather go home like that, if it was by bus all the better, so I could spread my legs wide open and lift my armpits to stink all over, hopefully some guy would start sniffing and licking them.

I loved being Jason, every morning getting up and seeing his reflection, feeling the weight of my body, seeing my morning wood and staying for hours until I dropped buckets and buckets.

I also changed much of his closet, I got rid of the baggy, boring t-shirts and pants, replacing them with tops and other tight fitting things. Fuck the old Jason, now I was in control.

I was what I had always wanted, finally I was no longer a loser, now I was muscular, smelly and hot.

- Ready for another video, losers? You better be on your knees and hungry.

----

Hello everyone! I hope you enjoyed this story as much as I enjoyed writing it. If you liked it, don't forget to follow it and share it so more people can discover it.

I'm always open to suggestions and ideas, so if you have any fantasy or scenario in mind, let me know in the comments or in messages. See you in the next story... Who knows what body you will occupy this time?

---

[confusedgoldenflower]

Heaven forbid you pick up that they’re not *gasp* allo!

Fandom rant. CW prononcon shit.

Honestly, it feels the prononcons have really fucked up fandom: representation other than gay and trans is obnoxious especially if they’re not allo; minors aren’t welcome in accessible spaces; fandom is all about nsfw, half the time w/o warnings, deal with it or you’re pathetic; if you’re a victim that doesn’t want to be subjected to graphic depictions of actual crimes (and reimagined events that were actually carried out against someone), you’re the wrong kind of victim and you need to respect other peoples’ ways of “coping;” if you have anything but sex fiendish or positive to say about anything, you’re a “puritan,” hater,” “making everyone uncomfortable” and “ruining fandom.”

And I don’t care how old they are or how much of fandom elders they are, they’re the ones toxifying it, being exclusionary and reductionist, and pulling ego to shape it/keep it degenerate. They’re the ones ruining anything.

They can choke on their “fandom culture” and “unspoken fandom rules,” that BS is why I made my post on it—which, guess what, is actually respectful of everyone! Heaven forbid we just consider other people! The humanity😱

Getting into fandoms is so scary .if I characterize this guy wrong everyone is going to kill me I can sense it

[alexanderlightweight]

I can’t find the names of the fics but could we see more from either a guide/sentinel verse or a daemon verse please?

see, I counter your not remembering the names with just writing another sentinel/guide fic so you never knew the name to begin with. since it didn't exist before. bam. it's a power move. also I didn't want to pick which one to write tbh because that was apparently more effort to my brain than creating a new one.

tis the 'tism.

I raise you *blinks at my non-existence cards and lack of ability to play* 'an entire new verse.' ha! I clearly won this round'... i'm not sure that's how it works actually tho. so my bad if you actually won and I claimed victory anyway.

no but seriously I hope you enjoy! its been a while since this prompt was sent in <3

lumine

currency of fate

Alec’s been online since he was a babe.

He’s pretty sure he was born online but thankfully some traumas are too big to remember, no matter how powerful one is.

Maryse won’t admit why, but Alec knows it’s because he was born in a Circle bunker. That in the same hovel he was birthed — with an open and raw mind without psionic shields — there were people being tortured and experiments carried out around him. Their desperate emotions frantic against Alec’s unshielded mind.

Alec carries those scars beneath heavily laid shields and he carries the hate he was born with too.

His mother can tell, better than his father.

Robert’s learned to avoid him on instinct, Maryse stalks the edges of his boundaries and when he’s eight, she starts to exude this kind of badly hidden stubbornness but also hope.

Alec can tell it has to do with him and it’s nothing good. He can also tell by Maryse’s growing relief that it involves the Institute.  

His parents hate it here. 

They don’t like being around and dealing with mundanes and they loathe the downworld with a hatred that sears against Alec’s mind. They especially don’t like being around the pride that ended Valentine’s life and most of the Circle they were once a part of.  They don’t like that they have to toe the line of Bane’s laws and territories as the Archon of the local pride.

Alec really isn’t sure how he’s made it this far, all he knows is that it’s the wards of the Institute's help.

They are what formed the first external shields that Alec’s ever had and the only ones since. It had started with tiny, thin but ever-growing and thickening shields that Alec's formed from necessity rather than knowledge. The wards had drawn energy from the magic that made them and whatever it was that anchored them to the angelic core and protected Alec. It had been the wards that sheltered his mind and soul and the psionic wounds he’d had since birth that had only grown finally started to heal.

The magic of the wards and the power of the angelic core are what keep him stable, they’re what keep him healthy and why he writes — not to the Clave — but to Idris’ pride.

There are no nephilim sentinel and guides in New York anymore.  

Every single one refuses to work with his parents but that also means Alec’s never been a part of any pride.  He’s also never met a sentinel or met another guide.  Alec’s pretty sure the Clave and Idris' pride don’t even know he exists. The people around him don’t know either, Alec can tell by the way the people of the Institute hate both his family and him. They even hate little Izzy, though thankfully she can’t tell or feel.

However it means that while Alec’s been protected from the damage of that hate, it’s made him wary. So when Alec feels his mother’s attention sharpen and focus on him, he acts first.

Within fifteen minutes of his fire message being sent, a contingent of shadowhunter sentinel and guide pairs storm the Institute.

Alec watches from a shadow of a hallway. Just out of reach of everyone and with easy access to the new shadowhunters... or the front door of the Institute.  

Which choice Alec makes depends on just how things go. He’s not stupid enough to only leave himself with one exit and he’s strong enough to daze everyone long enough to make it to the sewers. 

And they may be sentinel and guides but none of them can follow him into Bane’s territory and Alec’s memorized the route there.  True, the warlock sentinel probably won’t like a nephilim kid trespassing, but Bane’s a sentinel.  He won’t hurt Alec and he won’t let Alec be taken by anyone Alec isn’t comfortable with, Alec knows that much.

Besides, Bane did the wards of Alec’s Institute and it’s his magic that shelters Alec, so there’s no way he’d hurt Alec, no matter how much he hates Alec’s parents.

Alec can feel the truth of that.

It’s those shields that he slowly tucks back, letting the barest hint of his mind out in a way he hasn’t since he was five and figured out the wards were helping him.

The female sentinel in charge, Hirune Lakecastle is finishing introducing herself and she stiffens, turning so that her deep brown eyes focus on Alec.  

Alec swallows and steps forward out of the shadows and lets the shield pull back another layer as the rest of the group focus on him.  The Institute shadowhunters still don’t know what's going on and are staying in the formation ordered.  His parents, however, they’re panicking.  Alec can feel it and he lets another layer push back and shares the deep seated loathing he holds for them.

It’s enough that every other guide in the room flinches and then turns hostile glares on Maryse and Robert.  His mother’s emotions flare with anger, despair and finally shame.  As if she realizes that the piece she’d been about to barter to the Clave has been swept from her hands.

Alec won’t let her or Robert control the narrative this time.

Or ever again.

“How long have you been online, Alex-” 

Alec shakes his head, grateful the sentinel picked up on his discomfort and stopped. “Just Alec, Commander.”

She smiles at him and her emotions echo the motion, ringing true. “Alec, then. Do you know?”

Alec knows she thinks he’s done lowering his shields. That’s he’s bared himself to the world but the thing is, Alec will never be able to do what she’s expecting him to.  He knew it the moment she walked in, her guide comforting but nothing else.

The very wards that shield him will be the reason he can’t join a pride, no matter how powerful the Archons.  The presence of the shield has been with him since before true memory. So he was at least three, which is around when he knows for certain that he was moved to the Institute.  

Alec knows what he should say, or even what he could say to soften the blow but Alec is tired. He’s wishing he could have even a fraction of safety that the mundane children he sometimes passes feel.

“Coming online?” He asks and he makes sure to let genuine curiosity swell, because he does wonder what it would be like to feel the change from unawakened to online. “Isn’t everyone born online?”

The horror that is projected at him is overwhelming until it isn’t. 

The wards and his shields snap back fully back into place, the emotion not only shielded, but reflected.  The magic and his own powers instantly fling it back, despite Alec knowing he isn’t being attacked.

Alec blinks up at the ceilings from the floor, where he’s vulnerable despite his best efforts to stay mobile. Resentment coils for a moment before the wards soothe it away and Alec gets to his feet.

A calloused, dark brown hand with the familiar scars of an experienced hunter enters his vision. Alec takes it, bracing himself for both the pull and emotions.

The tug is smooth, effortless and without jolting his shoulder like most of the adults around the Institute do and Alec blinks in surprise.

Ah, another inconsistency he missed then.

Alec also misses the way the sentinel in front of him winces but he doesn’t miss how she bristles at the shadowhunters around them.

“Can you meet with me and my guide, Alec? We’ll go somewhere private. Just the three of us and a pair to guard.  The rest of my team will stay here and... get answers.”

There’s a threat of promise in her voice, for Alec instead of against him.

“The greenhouse?” Alec asks immediately, because it has the most exits and confusing scents and also is one of the only places that doesn’t feel suffocating. Maybe because his parents never go in it and neither do most of the shadowhunters who aren’t scientists. 

It’s a short trip, with Alec’s hand being held the entire time for some reason, even though the sentinel can’t possibly lose him that easily.

“My daughter is a few years older than you.” Alec is told as they enter and he wonders if that’s supposed to make him lower his guard. “She’s latent, but it should be several years before she comes online.” Alec blinks, because he doesn’t actually know the normal age for coming online.  Just that his situation was unusual. He’d figured out that much from books, but the books hadn’t mentioned actual numbers and Alec doesn’t have the clearance for that kind of information yet 

—

Barely five years of so-called ‘peace’ and Magnus is still finding new ways to heal parts of his territory in places he’d thought untouched and protected. It’s both terrifying and infuriating how much damage nephilim can do when they go rampant and how much invisible trauma they can still inflict once the battles have long ended but remain clear in memory. 

Warlocks carry long memories.

Nephilim like to forget and repeat their sins.

Thankfully, Magnus is one of the sentinel’s who personally ripped Valentine Morgenstern apart and that’s the only reason he lets nephilim blood linger on his territory.  No nephilim sentinels or guides live in the Institute, they fled from Maryse and Robert’s soul-stamped betrayal and what was once nephilim territory is now Magnus’.

Perhaps the deed hasn’t been signed, but does that matter when the leylines and angelic core would kick the nephilim out at a moment's notice if Magnus wished?  At the moment he’s being lenient because for now, the nephilim are more useful as fodder than not.  The rifts have been opening more and more of late and it’s better to let the shadowhunters be the first line of both defense and offense to the demons than warlocks or other members of Magnus’ pride.

In however many years as he wants, Magnus will kick Maryse and Robert out of his territory for good and insure some other, less disgusting nephilim is in charge.  If he lets anyone remain for long depending on the political and demonic climate.

However for now, he’ll let them be bait and fodder for the demons coming forth.

Despite the fact that Magnus’ senses have been wreaking havoc on him for centuries, they’ve been settling as of late. Magnus has never zoned out in public, but he has gone feral quite a few times and when he does, he’s been able to pull his entire pride with him until the threat is gone or the danger passed.

Hence Valentine’s lack of existence.

However despite his current annoyances and lack of a decent partner, Magnus feels soothed.

Not just his mind but his skin.  

Magnus no longer has to layer the inside of his clothes with magic and sew his own pieces just to feel texture on his skin.  Or to make every single one of his own products because even Catarina can’t tailor them to his senses as delicately as he needs.

Magnus has a suspicion, however he can do nothing about it as it’s fleeting and never lingers.

Whenever he reaches for the thought, it disappears.  

Cahya has been watching something, their form elegant and distant as they watch somewhere and something Magnus cannot see. The feeling of contentment stays, even though sometimes over-protective instincts full of rage tickle his spine and whet his appetite and lust not for flesh but for battle.

The Institute, despite now being Magnus’ territory, remains something of a deadzone to Magnus’ senses. It’s something he’s grateful for.  That he doesn’t have to endure the stench of the pure nephil blood or their petty emotions and hear their pretentious, self-righteous words.

Magnus is more than capable of bugging the Institute.

He’s not going to risk his senses on listening to the squabbles of nephilim and he doesn’t need to.  The wards let him know what is going on, even now, when they fluctuate and the 

There’s a moment where dread trickles down Magnus’ spine but before he can even think of what caused it, Cahya roars.

It’s so loud both physically and psionically that Magnus’ vision, thoughts and hearing are all left ringing as he recenters himself. All he feels is relief, though he doesn’t understand why except for the fact that Cahya also seems relieved... and proud.

“Something the matter, dearest?”

Cahya chuffs and turns to rub against Magnus’ legs, purring and shaking their head with smug pride.

“Well, as long as you're happy.” Magnus knows he’s exuding doubt, but Cahya doesn’t seem to mind as they shove Magnus’ magic into the couch, growing it so they can lay out on top of him.  It’s been ages since they’ve offered their belly like this, wanting pets and cuddles and nothing but pure attention.

Magnus luxuriates in it.

Cahya is always affectionate... when Magnus allows himself to love his own soul. It’s easier looking at them and seeing how beautiful and powerful Cahya is. However their adoration of him is in turn, beautiful and empowering.

Because surely Cahya wouldn’t stay if Magnus were broken.

Cahya embraces the same... nay an even stronger ruthlessness than Magnus himself.  Most are tempered by the echo of their soul, Magnus is equally matched and neither temper each other but feed the flames they both embody. 

It’s what makes both of them so terrifying and why Magnus is Archon of his pride, despite being unbonded.

AN:

Baby!alec is very paranoid/concerned because of how he came online. Magnus does not know that his magic is basically already claimed as a guide and is protecting him until he’s old enough to meet Magnus.

Alec actually won’t be able to join any nephilim prides because of how protective the shields from the wards are. And he’s also not going to admit he knows where the shields are from, because of ingrained prejudice the pride will assume that its the angelic core that protected him, not Magnus’ magic.

A lot of potential sentinels get sent to visit Alec when he’s older because it’s assumed that it will take a bond to get through the shield thats both protecting him but not letting him bond to a pride.  Which is true, except ofc that wont matter since he’ll be bonding with magnus who can already get past the shield... made from his magic. Whether or not he knows it yet.

Alec has no idea how much feral predator pup/kit he’s giving off right now. Also despite his best efforts, he is projecting maybe not his need for exits, but the fact that he feels cornered. His narrative is skewed because he’s both incredibly powerful but also not as durable as he assumes.  Like he has no idea what he’s doing and he’s making pretty decent assumptions but also, he’s wrong sometimes. Since he’s 8/9.

Cahya is actually reacting to Hirune trying to form a pride bond with Alec which doesn’t work and Cahya is smug in helping protect Alec.

Yes Alec has a spiritual guide animal, he’s hiding right now because Alec isn't advertising his active guide status in hostile territory or to outsiders until he has backup or an escape route.

Valentine is dead in this fic. Jocelyn lives in the mundane world, she still fled but Magnus watches her closely and rotates the warlock and sentinel/guides who keep an eye on her. they make sure unhealthy attachments 'like dot's' to Jocelyn or Clary don't form.

[shoutsofmybones]

Do you have any recommendations on how to proceed or start to make a psychosis plan? Maybe especially for religious people?

I do! This post will be lengthy, but if you want to be prepared for the real possibility of psychosis, I think it's all important.

First of all, something that I believe ALL people should have, regardless of their risk factors, is a psychiatric advance directive (PAD). Think of it as a living will, but specifically for mental health treatment. In the USA, in many places it is legally binding, and protects you from coercive or forceful psychiatric treatment, particularly treatments that you might be pressured to consent to while you're vulnerable.

Second, talk to someone you trust (a family member, close friend, or life partner) about how you would like them to respond in the case of a psychiatric emergency. Designate at least one person to take point on helping you receive treatment in a psychiatric emergency. Psychosis not only makes it difficult to make decisions for yourself, but it also makes other people (including mental healthcare professionals) not trust or respect the decisions you do make. Find someone who you trust to treat you with respect.

Third, do research ahead of time about the psychosis programs in your area! If there's a First Episode program nearby, then make sure you know how to get in touch with them. These programs can really make a difference, and in about a third of cases they're able to help patients never have a psychotic episode again. However, a lot of primary care doctors and even therapists don't know about them, or don't think to refer you to them. If you have designated someone to help you in case of psychosis, ask them to fight like hell for you to get into the First Episode program. It's life changing.

For a religious person, I really recommend making a personal creed or list of beliefs you hold, and keeping it close and accessible. I have one on my phone. It helps to know what you believe, because psychosis, particularly religious psychosis, can really get that mixed up. An extremely common symptom of psychosis is confusion, and in religious psychosis that can make your religious beliefs get confused as well, and that can be really difficult. Also, it's just fun and comforting to have a creed, I actually just recommend that whether or not you're making a psychosis plan.

Another rec for religious people: identify prayers you find calming and comforting and write them down. I like finding prayers from the saints. Specifically avoid anything that invites mysticism. I know there are a lot of mystics on this site but I'm actually very serious, mysticism is very close to psychosis in the brain and it can be a trigger for increased symptoms. This definitely includes the Jesus prayer.

Above all, I think the best preparation for psychosis is working on the stigma you probably have absorbed regarding psychosis and its effects. Even in neurodiversity affirming spaces, there can be a lot of stigmatizing language used about people with psychosis! You should read personal accounts of psychosis and recovery. Talk to people who are in psychosis, or have been in psychosis, about their lives and experiences. In my country, there is currently a rise in psychotic episodes and conditions due to use of certain substances, and yet there remains a huge stigma against talking about it. Make sure you learn and internalize that psychosis is not life-ruining, it does not define a person, and it doesn't make someone "one of the bad ones." Psychosis is just another facet of the human condition, and it's not by definition the worst case scenario. If you do end up experience psychosis, you are still valuable, still worthy, and still loved! Always keep that in mind.

This post is kind of long, but I hope it's helpful. I feel very passionately about this topic because I have been in a treatment program for psychosis for several years, and through that I have met a lot of people who wish they had made a plan ahead of time. Best of luck to you!

[thebreakfastgenie]

I didn’t expect this post to blow up, so I used some generalizations that may have been mistaken for sweeping universal claims. I was referencing data about kids socializing less than they used to. That doesn’t mean kids don’t talk to each other, but there is an observed decrease. A lot of people are talking about it. I think constant social media access and the way the apps have evolved play a role in that. It’s not a conspiracy theory that social media companies want to maximize the time all of us spend scrolling, we know they’re doing it! It maximizes their profits, but it’s not good for us. What I was getting at in this post is that it’s hard to talk about that because it gets lost in the perennial “those darn kids and their technogadgets!” moralizing.

The issue isn’t really smartphones or social media. Like you pointed out, there are benefits of those things. The issue is how the large corporations that provide social media apps are manipulating our social media use for profit. Yes, it’s capitalism. Or at least unregulated capitalism.

Social media has been used for progressive organizing but in recent years it’s the right that’s been successful in using social media to advance their causes. There are a lot of factors involved but it’s relevant that those same social media companies that want to keep you constantly scrolling are owned by billionaires, some of whom are openly right wing and all of whom have capital interests to protect.

I think kids texting each other during class is awesome. Kids are supposed to goof off and adults are supposed to spoil the fun to make sure they learn because it’s their job. That’s how human development works. It’s beautiful. Around the same time I made this post I made another one saying I wanted to experiment with a classroom that banned smartphones but gave each kid a phone that could only text. I’m very much team kids here. I’m not attacking them for watching videos on social media, I’m worried about what social media companies are doing to kids and all of us.

The "kids are on their damn phones all the time" conversation has changed in an extremely significant way and I'm not sure people realize it. When kids had flip phones, and even in the early days of smartphones, kids were using their phones to text each other. It was part of an active social life. Now they're using their phones more and more to consume content from influencers or other accounts. It's more passive and it's increasingly what people are doing instead of socializing with each other. This applies to adults too, I just keep thinking about high school students.

[lieslab]

Dead-man-walking

꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎ ꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎

Pairing: Seungmin X gn reader

Summary: Memories of a violent past whirl through your brain, forcing your boyfriend to figure out the root cause of your mental breakdown.

Genre: Angst with a happy ending

Word Count: 5.5k

Domestic abuse, depression, and anxiety resources

Trigger warning: Post-traumatic-stress-disorder, physical abuse, manipulative parents, tornadoes and physical descriptions of mass destruction, mentions of razor blades, anxiety, a brief moment of self-harm with nails, and anxiety around people.

A/N: This was supposed to be a comfort/hurt and that is in here, but after I started rereading it, I realized this is pure angst. Sometimes the past feels like standing in the middle of a tornado, hence the drabble name. Requestee, I believe you said you liked having your heart torn apart and stitched back together, so this one's for you <3

_ _ _

Rocks sat in the pockets of your jeans and sweaters. They weighed you down daily, but you tried to ignore them. They weren’t really rocks, but rather secrets. Heavy secrets that kept you pinned down to earth. Your heart fought against gravity and just when you thought you were making progress, the past ricocheted with bitter vengeance. 

You walked through the JYP building with a pep in your step. A handcrafted lunch sat in your hands. You spent hours cutting out shapes and rearranging the bento box to enamor Seungmin. You liked working with your hands. Even when you didn’t speak your admiration for your boyfriend out loud, you wanted it to be known in other ways. 

Early this morning, before he started his schedule, he informed the receptionist of the time you’d arrive at the building. Granted access and permission, you’d be able to walk through the building and up to the specific room where Seungmin would be awaiting your arrival. 

You put on one of your nicer outfits. Before you walked in, you studied your reflection in the car’s mirrors. Rearview and sun visor, you made sure your hair looked presentable. Not a single piece would be out of place. No fallen eyelashes, or a bit of eye crust that you didn’t catch earlier. 

With a final deep breath and a second glance in the mirror, you headed inside. Through security, you greeted the receptionist and headed to where you were supposed to arrive. Every now and then, you glanced back at your phone, rereading the directions and making sure you were walking in the right direction. 

If you needed assistance, you could have asked someone, or called Seungmin to lead you in the right direction. You’d rather figure it out yourself. Seungmin spent so much time memorizing these halls, he could walk them with his eyes closed. You were determined to walk the same path as him. 

On the home stretch in the right direction, you turned off your phone and slipped it into your pocket. You held your head higher, readjusted your grip on the lunchbox in your hand and then- 

You yelped as a flash of paleness moved out of the corner of your eye. You stumbled forward, nearly hitting the ground. The lunchbox tipped, but before you could greet the ground, the back of your shirt was grabbed, and you were yanked back onto your feet. 

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry! Sorry! Sorry! Sorry! You were so quiet, I didn’t even see you there.” 

You spun around with wide eyes to find Felix’s warm eyes checking you over. He called your name softly and reached out to gently grab your wrist. “Hey, did I hurt you? I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to. I wasn’t really paying attention and didn’t even see you, despite you being right there in front of me.” 

And in that moment, a rock became a boulder. You stared at Felix, not looking at him, but rather through him. An embarrassed smile and a handful of freckles tried to apologize, but the words went in one ear and out the other. Standing to the right side of the hall, your past came back in full force. 

The mid-2000s came back like a tidal wave. Crashing over you and destroying the sturdy life you built. You remembered everything all at once. The aggression highlighting your mother’s face as she grabbed your shoulder. The dead eyes of your father when he grabbed the side of your shirt and jerked you forward. 

“Are you even listening to me?” 

Your body went tense and your lungs caved in. Dominoes toppled over and crushed your heart. You couldn’t breathe, let alone think. You curled your fingers tighter into the lunchbox’s fabric, trying to find comfort in the middle of the past’s suffocating smoke. 

Your brain sparked and ignited. Neurons screamed for help, but nothing ever came of it. There’d be nobody to snuff out the fire. There were no flames; just ash-covered memories and the heavy scent of burning. Your brain curled inward and crisped beneath the flames, but those flames extinguished a few years prior, shortly after you left home. 

All that remained in your head were past memories. You tried to fill up with new memories, but they didn’t come quick enough. The good things weren’t heavy enough to seal up the tomb of the past. Shadows snuck in and the monsters of the past made themselves at home. 

You blinked. It only lasted a few seconds, your blankness between Felix’s concern. He stared at you with worry far more prominent. His hands rested on your shoulders and when you realized it, you jerked away, as if you had been burnt. 

“What did you say?” You asked. 

“I asked if you were okay. I apologized and you just…” He trailed off, wondering if you felt unwell. “You shut down. Are you feeling feverish?” 

“Um-” Your head shook and you sighed. “No, I’m okay. Sorry, I got distracted.” You forced a smile, a brave face, despite the horrors of the past. “I’m trying to find Seungmin.” 

“I can take you to him.” 

“I don’t wanna distract you, if you’re-” 

“No worries, come on.” He gave you a final look of worry and walked down the hall. 

You sucked in a deep breath and followed behind him. 

Your past still carved deep. 

~ ~ ~ 

You couldn’t accept your past. Trying to stomach everything that occurred, it felt like trying to swallow razor blades. You tried, but the blades lodged in your throat. Metal edges cut deep and you couldn’t, you just couldn’t. 

What kind of parents are monsters like that? They martyred your soul. You were alive and breathing, but you lacked something most people had. Safety and security, you’d always doubt if you really had it. People with supportive parents, it’s all different. 

You were born with stars in your eyes and lungs full of moondust. Two eyes to see, all four working limbs, and a brain that craved too much. Too much attention and support. Too needy. Too much. 

You were just a kid. You needed that extra coddling and attention. You deserved to have that support. The kind of parents that put their problems aside and listened to yours. Wiped crocodile tears from your eyes and listened to you at the drop of a hat. 

You came out wrong, you thought. Maybe it was the shared features of your parents, or maybe you didn’t adopt the right personality. Every personality you tried to copy, it felt wrong. You wore each like a new pair of clothes, but the pant legs were too big and the arm holes felt too tight in the armpits. No matter which one you picked, it never felt right. You were never who you wanted to be. When you tried to do what felt right, their attitudes grew worse. 

On the other hand, the universe was better because Seungmin was in it. Blessed with dark eyes and a brain equipped to seek out information he didn’t know. You hesitated to ask questions, but he never had problems with it. 

If something was wrong with his part in a song, he’d bring it up to Chan, or whoever was in charge of recording that day. When he went to a restaurant and didn’t know what something consisted of on the menu, he’d ask the waiter. When he asked, he always found out the answer. 

You were different. You hesitated to ask new things. Anxiety brewed in your gut. You stayed timid and unsure, afraid you’d bother someone if you questioned something. You tensed up at little pieces of body language, always hyper-vigilant and reading everything. Alarm bells went off and you couldn’t help it. 

Your parents left you fractured and you struggled to figure out how to become whole again. You didn’t know how to tell someone. How do you admit that? How do you tell someone you’re full of unstitched flaws and in desperate need of security? You looked for role models everywhere. It wasn’t easy to admit you had problems. You hesitated, too afraid someone would use those hurts against you. 

Seungmin wouldn’t and you knew that, but you didn’t bring it up. Felix dropped you off in the correct room and pushed open the door to expose Seungmin’s frame slouched back on the couch. A phone sat in his hand. You thanked Felix and then you weren’t sure what happened. 

You weren’t focused on what was going on around you. You didn’t focus on the panda bodies you made with rice. You used seaweed to make a tiny face and add the darkened details. Using cookie cutters, fresh vegetables turned into small flower shapes. 

The mostly peeled tangerine, you marked the remaining peel with a little sharpie; two eyes and a smiling face. You wanted him to be reminded that even the non-existent tangerine snail rooted for him. Maybe he called it cute, the words turned murky. 

You remember sitting across from him on the leather couch. He talked about something, probably his day. You listened, humming softly and nodding. The words didn’t really pluck the strings of your brain. You should have listened, but the incident with Felix was too fresh. It was only an accident, so why did it feel like a scab had been ripped from your open wound lingering from the past? 

Why did life have to be so difficult? More importantly, how would you find the courage to recover? How do people recover from such brutal things? Childhood felt like a prison sentence. 

Why did it all have to be so hard? ~ ~ ~ 

A few days later, you entered the dance room where Seungmin was supposed to be, but he wasn’t. Upon seeing Minho and Jeongin, you paused and stepped back out. Your foot scraped along the floor, catching their attention with a loud squeak. 

Jeongin called your name with a smile and waved you in. “Come hang out! Seungmin should be back soon. You can give us a break from dancing, anyway.” 

“We’re only still dancing because you can’t get the moves right.” Minho glanced over and glared at the younger boy. 

“It’s not my fault you’re making it so hard!” 

“Oh, please,” he scoffed. “This dance is so easy, I bet they could pick it up pretty quick. Today, you’re dancing with two left feet and that’s your own fault.” 

“Hey!” 

“Where is Seungmin?” You stepped back into the practice room and interrupted, not wanting the guys to start arguing. “He said he’d be here.” 

Jeongin swatted Minho’s attempted pinch to his side away. “Changbin called him into the studio. Chan is out sick and apparently, Changbin wants a few more takes, just in case Chan doesn’t like the recording he has. He should be back at any time.” 

Minho glanced over his shoulder. “Come on in while you wait. Maybe if I slow down and teach you this dance, maybe Innie will finally get it.” 

“It’s not my fault you’re a shit teacher today, hyung.” 

Your eyes widened and Minho scowled. “Your scrawny ass is going to regret that. Get in formation right now. I outta-” 

Jeongin mocked him and stuck out his tongue. Minho’s nostrils flared and he mumbled something beneath his breath. The two were used to bickering and picking on one another, but it still made you anxious. 

You tugged off your bag, placing it with theirs on the outstretched couch in the distance. “So what are the moves?” 

Minho started to move, showing you the range of moves. “This is the part that Jeongin keeps messing up.” 

“You don’t have to use my government-given name.” 

“I’m gonna put my government-given foot up your-” He paused, glancing at you in the mirror. “Well anyway, it’s bah, bah, bah.” He curved his arms back and shifted them around in three quick motions. “Left, right, out.” 

“I keep getting the left and right confused. It’s left, right, out, left, right, out, but then it changes directions,” Jeongin explained. “The beat is pretty fast and I keep getting my arms mixed up. Plus, we’re supposed to add footwork and ugh.” 

“We’re slicing and dicing for this move.” 

As Minho continued to explain, you followed along. You moved your arms slowly, trying to capture the right moves. “Left, right, out?” 

“Yeah! You got it! Just like that!” Minho watched your moves a few times, praising you when he could. 

When Seungmin came back a few minutes later, Minho was wrapping it up. With the music and in the mirror, he glanced back at you two. His body moved through the melody with ease. “There you go, you’ve got it! Start with the left foot!” He called over the music. 

Seungmin’s face softened as he watched you. His heart naturally quickened its beat and he smiled. When the three of you finished, he started to approach you. “Hey, I didn’t know you could dance.” 

Before he could reach you, Jeongin rushed from behind you and squeezed you in a tight hug, causing you to gasp. Your face grew pale and the dam holding back your past cracked. Spider-web cracks expanded through the cement and memories burst.

“Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!” Jeongin squeezed you tighter, causing you to panic more. “If you wouldn’t have came to help me, I don’t think I ever would have-” 

Your elbow slammed into his windpipe hard. He gasped, reaching up to grab his adam’s apple. Both Seungmin and Minho’s eyes went wide. Minho rushed over to you, trying to make sure you were okay. You dropped your head and ran past Seungmin. 

Tears brimmed behind your eyes. You couldn’t breathe. All you could think about was the past. The way your parents treated you. They treated you like a dog. Screaming and beating. Grabbing and tugging, like you weren’t their child, but a criminal instead. 

Phantom limbs of an angry father gripped you tight. The shrieks of your mother melted your heart. They rushed behind you, chasing you down the empty halls of the company building. You couldn’t breathe and tears cascaded down your cheeks. 

Years later, you still couldn’t escape all the hurt. 

~ ~ ~ 

Back in the dance practice room, Felix entered with a frown. He paused when he saw the state of the room. Seungmin stood frozen in his spot with eyes full of concern. Minho gently patted Jeongin’s back, but tears clouded Jeongin’s eyes. 

“What’s going on? Innie, are you okay? What happened? Seungmin, I seen your-” 

“Yeah, they just slammed their elbow into his windpipe.” 

A small squeak fell out from Jeongin’s lips. He coughed and ducked his head, trying to wipe away the tears. “Did I-I do something wrong? I just-” 

“No, I don’t know where that came from.” Minho glanced over at Seungmin. “Are they okay? They were just fine until Jeongin hugged them.” 

“Wait,” Felix frowned, “what happened?” 

“I just hugged them and they elbowed me so hard. I didn’t think I was hurting them. I know I squeezed tight, but I was excited. I didn’t mean-” His voice cut out and he cleared his throat, “-to harm them.” 

“Are you okay?” 

“More shocked than anything.” 

Minho glanced over to Felix. “Didn’t you say you ran into them the other day and it was weird?” 

He slowly nodded, unsure if he should expand on the topic, or not. “Yeah, they kinda went blank. Their face paled and they totally shut down for a few seconds.” 

“That’s what just happened here. Seungmin, are you sure they’re okay?” Minho looked over at him, expecting a response. 

“I don’t know. I mean, they’ve been okay with me. I don’t know why they would have done that to Innie. They’re not-” His head shook. “I don’t think they meant to do it on purpose.” 

“Go check and make sure they’re okay. Felix and I will take care of Jeongin. Innie, where’s your water?” 

“In my duffle bag,” he mumbled. He gestured in the opposite direction, causing Felix to hurry over to find his water bottle. 

Minho gently patted Jeongin’s back, but he watched Seungmin’s disappearing outline. Wherever you were, hopefully you were okay. It wasn’t like you to hurt Seungmin. 

It wasn’t like you to hurt anyone, especially not the guy Seungmin treated like a little brother. 

~ ~ ~ 

In the bathroom, your brain roared. Cold rain downpoured and you couldn’t turn it off. You gripped the edge of the automatic sink with shaky hands. Your bottom lip trembled and tears streamed silently down your cheeks. 

The sobs threatened to give, but you learned to handle these moments with grace. You tightened your grip on the sink harder and squeezed your eyes shut. A bottom lip trembled and you struggled to breathe. You spent childhood littered with words that shot flaming arrows into your heart. 

“I barely even touched you! You’re so dramatic!” 

“Why are you crying? Come here and I’ll give you something to really cry about.” 

The past sank teeth into your jugular. Your arms shook and your heart rotted in your chest. In the bathroom mirror, your body burst into flames. You felt every lick. Every nerve remembered the pain. Each neuron buzzed with a memory. Lightning burst through your veins and the past ripped through muscle. 

Your lungs refused to expand. Outside the bathroom door, Seungmin called your name. He knocked, desperate for a response, but you didn’t reply. Your parents stole your voice years ago. 

They dubbed you dramatic. They said it never happened. If it did, it wasn’t a big deal. You were remembering it wrong. 

What if you never remembered it right? What if your brain made it up? What if this was something your brain created out of dreams and you were secretly trying to discredit your parents? They were your parents, right? What kind of parents hurt their kids? 

What kind of parent grips their kid and leaves behind bruises? 

Who screams at a kid until they’ve collapsed onto the ground, curled up in a ball, shrieking and begging the monster to stop? 

What kind of monster unveils sharp teeth and spits saliva? Hiding behind the face of a parent and causing them to lash out an arm, digging their nails into your shoulder? Gripping their hand into your side and injuring you because their anger is out of control? 

Kids are so pathetic when you’re angry. When nothing goes your way and you believe the world hates you. A child becomes a burden. An obstacle in your path to greatness. Anger mixes with resentment and paints something ugly. 

Monsters weren’t hidden in your closet, they were banging on your bedroom door. They stood in the kitchen, slamming pans around, and shoving cupboard doors shut because you asked for dinner. They screamed at you when you did something wrong. Not because you did something wrong, but because this was bigger than them. 

This trauma was bigger than you. Your skin couldn’t hold it in. You screamed at the top of your lungs in that bathroom. The world kept turning, but Seungmin’s world stopped. His heart shattered. His body moved before he could stop it. 

That was your scream. Your hurt. You were injured and he had to stop it. He grabbed the bathroom door knob and shoved it open. He couldn’t move again. Your scream came from the depths of your soul. It wasn’t just you screaming, it was the child who didn’t get to be a proper kid. 

Robbed of childhood and all things good, your inner child wailed. The starving terrified toddler who asked for food when a parent was in a bad mood, it shrieked in terror. The teenage you that had to figure out things on your own, your own resentment bubbled and brewed, it cried out, so desperate to be heard. 

In an act of pure panic, your fingers found your eyes and dug. You tried to pluck the memories from your brainstem. Everything funneled into a violent tornado. The good and bad collided, hot and cold met; a spout grew and began to grow legs. 

There are tornadoes dubbed ‘dead-man-walking tornadoes.’ Multiple vortexes funnel down and grant the illusion of the tornado walking with two legs. A tribe of Native Americans named them years ago. 

They’re known for their sheer power, causing violence,  and mass destruction. They say if you see one around you, death is coming to you. There is very little you can do. Those that seek shelter still might fall victim, they’re that powerful. 

Humans are delimbed, tossed through the green and graying skies like rag dolls. Screams of mercy will not save you. The winds are so strong, the hides are pulled from animals. They are one of mother nature’s most terrifying creations.     

They dismantle towns, kill families, and destroy farms. There is no mercy. Prayers cannot save you. Nothing can save you if you see a walking giant approaching you in the form of a tornado. 

The memories in your own brain spun out of control. Lights flickered and the foundation your legs provided shook. The sirens in your head blared. Outstretched hands ripped your arms from your eyes, causing you to scream louder. 

Winds roared and the building creaked. Your body swayed, trying to escape the horror of the past, but it was no use. Hands grabbed your wrists tight, preventing you from scraping out the memories. 

You jerked, but you couldn’t get your arms away. A sob busted through your throat. A leg kicked and a yelp sounded. You hit the floor with a loud clatter. 

You shoved yourself backwards until you hit the wall. You curled up, ready for a hand to strike you. You expected limbs to hit your own and the burst of air brushing your skin beforehand. You tensed up and braced for the awaiting sting. 

When you opened your eyes, you found Seungmin standing with a face full of terror. His hands stretched down toward you, but he didn’t move from his spot. He hesitated, unsure if you’d be okay with his touch, or not. 

“Seungmin?” You weakly croaked. Tears slipped down your splotchy red cheeks. A lump lodged in the center of your throat. 

“What’s going on?” He whispered, afraid he’d startle you. “Why did you kick me?” 

“Where are we?” 

“Huh? We’re in the bathroom at the JYP building. Don’t you remember? You elbowed Innie in the neck and took off. What’s going on with you? You screamed, started to cry, attempted to gouge out your own eyes, and then kicked me when I tried to stop you.” 

“S-Seungmin,” you weakly uttered. Your eyes squeezed shut and another sob fell out.  

He cautiously slid down onto his knees. The dirty tile floor didn’t bother him. Not when you curled up before him. With your teary eyes and sniffles, you looked so broken. You looked like something he’d never seen before. 

Sure, there were times you were quiet and kept to yourself, but you were never like this. You didn’t act like this around him. You never laid a hand upon him, or anyone else. This wasn’t like you. 

“You’ve gotta talk to me,” he whispered. “I don’t know what’s wrong, if you don’t talk to me. This isn’t like you, baby. What’s wrong?” 

The soft words built up another sob. Your face scrunched up and you cried. You didn’t mean to harm anyone. You didn’t mean to turn into such a defensive little thing, but what else could you do? 

A broken child, forced to build up a wall. A teenager, unsure of who to trust. A backhand felt more like a friend, than a person ever would. At least, you knew what to expect from the backhand. The sharp sting, the catch of a wedding ring, and all things unholy. 

Where did that leave you as an adult? No parents to turn to. Never a proper support system. Even your own boyfriend, when he grew angry about something, you turned weary. Anxiety bubbled, you tensed with a held breath, and you waited. 

“Please talk to me.” 

“I’m scared,” you finally uttered. “I’m so scared. Please don’t hate me, I’m sorry. He grabbed me and I panicked.” 

“What?” 

“Innie. I didn’t mean to hit him, I swear. He grabbed me and I couldn’t breathe, so I-I just-” 

“It was just an accident.” 

Your bottom lip trembled. 

“Nobody is mad at you, I promise.” 

You couldn’t stop the tears. They continued to slide down your cheeks and free fell down your face. You sniffled, but it didn’t help. You reach up, trying to wipe away the tears, but you couldn’t stop them from falling. 

“Just talk to me. There’s gotta be far more than that. What’s wrong? You can tell me.” 

Your head shook. 

“Did something happen between Jeongin and Minho? If they did something…” He trailed off when you shook your head again. 

“I’m the problem. I’m always the problem.” 

“What are you talking about?” His eyebrows furrowed. “You’re not a problem. You’ve never been a problem.” 

“Not for you, but soon you’ll find out I am. I’m always a problem. My parents were right. They’ve always been right.” Your voice came out shrill and you didn’t know how to stop it. Everything bubbled up and the pus-filled abscess of hurt finally burst.  

“I’m so miserable and afraid,” you continued. “I’m always afraid and I can’t stop it. I always think people are going to get violent. I always wait for the hits and the harsh touches. The grabs and the pinches, I don’t know how to stop.” 

He took in your words, repeating them in his head. His eyes narrowed and then his face fell. “Your parents did what? What do you mean? Did they-” 

“Always.” You tried to suck in a breath through tears. “I’m always waiting for them to appear and strike again. They’re in my dreams and they’re still so angry. No matter what I do, it will never be enough. I don’t know how to be good enough, Seungmin. I’m not even good enough for you.” 

“That’s not true. Don’t say that. You’re more than enough for me. I love you. Do you hear me? I love you.” He moved closer, but he stopped when he saw you tense up. “I won’t come closer, but I mean every word I say.” 

“You know how I feel about liars, unless I’m the one lying about something stupid. No matter how angry I am, I’d never hit you. That’s not who I am and it’s not who I ever will be.” 

“It’s not enough. Words are never enough. I can’t trust people like I pretend to. It’s all a facade, it’s a lie.” 

His face fell, but he tried to hide it. “I’m not going to push you to talk about things if you’re not ready to talk, but I want you to know I trust you. I trust you and I love you. The guys and I would never hurt you, not on purpose.” 

“I-I know, but I’m still terrified. My parents always come back. I can’t escape the past. I-I try to make new memories and remind myself it’s over, b-but it-” You cut off, shoving a hand over your mouth. Your eyes squeezed shut and you tried to bury the sob that threatened to escape. 

“Please let me hold you. I’m not going to hurt you, let me prove that to you. I can’t stand seeing you in so much internal torment and not being able to do anything about it.” 

Your wet clumpy lashes reopened. You sniffled and Seungmin slowly moved closer. “It’s just me and you know me. Easy, I’m not going to hurt you. If I were to hurt you, I’d already have bitten you by now. Don’t freak out, it’s just me, your loyal idiot.” 

A weak chuckle fell from your lips. He crawled closer, pushing his back against the wall beside you. “See? I told you I don’t bite. Can I hold you, or do you want me to stay here? I feel better being close to you.” 

It took you a few moments, but you finally shifted. You moved closer and crawled further into his lap. You straddled one leg over his and slowly sank onto his legs. He cautiously grabbed your waist, helping steady you. 

You sniffled, reaching up to wipe your tears, but he beat you to it. “There you go,” he whispered. His fingers slipped beneath your eyes. “That’s it, you’re doing good.” 

“I’m sorry,” you whispered. 

“What are you sorry for?” 

“Showing you that I’m a wreck.” 

“I think I’d be a wreck if I went through what you went through. It’s okay to be a wreck. Trauma is hard. Hell, you don’t think I don’t have nightmares about the survival show? That was years ago and sometimes, I still have dreams that Minho and Felix didn’t debut with us. It’s horrible and terrible.” 

“Is that why you don’t like JYP?” 

“I don’t like JYP because he’s bad at singing, but you can’t tell him I said that. I don’t know how he’s going on tour and now he’s preaching. Have you heard a JYP sermon? He’s just yapping, dude. I can do that, too. Give me a bible and a pulpit.” 

You tried not to laugh, but failed. He reached out, gently cupping your cheeks. “You can laugh all you want, but it’s true. He’s such an idiot and I don’t know how so many people love him. He’s what my nightmares are made of.” 

“I feel like you should be yelling at me for breaking down.” 

“You didn’t do anything wrong. How are your eyes? That’s what I’m concerned about. You can see me, right?” 

You nodded, letting your eyes find his. Your nose scrunched in another sniffle. “They’re a little itchy, but I think it’s from crying.” 

“As long as you can see my beautiful face.” 

“You’re silly.” 

“Damn right and don’t forget it. Now about whatever happened here today, you don’t have to talk to me about it if you don’t want to. I love you and I don’t want to hurt you, but I think-” 

“I should talk to someone?” You mumbled. 

“Yes and for good reason. I don’t like knowing you’re struggling, but also, I’m a little offended that you think I’d hit you. Why would I hit you? That’s what Changbin is for.” 

You rolled your eyes. “I think you just wanna be manhandled, sometimes.” 

“And what about it? God forbid a man has hobbies. I’m not the only one. Have you seen Felix? He’s like ‘oh, let me massage you, Changbin!’ He only wants to touch his muscles! At least, I’m sneaky about my desires.” 

“But you’re dating me.” 

“Are you implying we should have a threesome with Changbin?” 

“Excuse me?” 

His hands raised above his head. “Hey, you implied it.” 

“Nuh-uh!” 

“You pretty much did. I was talking about Changbin’s muscles and you brought up dating you. If you want a piece of him, all you gotta do is ask. Changbin loves having people gush over his muscles. He’d probably do it with a grin.” 

“You are such a brat.” 

“I prefer the term dog and sometimes when I see Changbin, I feel like I’m in heat. It depends on the day, really.” 

“You’re impossible,” you grumbled. Your arms crossed over your chest and you sighed. You knew he was teasing you, but you started to feel exhausted. 

He leaned forward, gently pressing a kiss to your forehead. “That’s okay because you love me regardless. Anyway, if you’re done kink shaming me, we should get off this disgusting floor. You have snot drying on your face and I can feel toilet germs crawling up my arms.” 

“Kink shaming?” You sputtered with bright red cheeks. You jerked up quickly and stepped away. Mortified, you shook your head. 

Seungmin got up after you, trying not to laugh. You were no longer crying and the weight of the past disappeared from your shoulders, for now. It felt easier now that you had someone you opened up to. You hurried to the sink, trying to wash your hands. After the two of you finished getting clean, you needed to apologize to Jeongin. 

Even when you were embarrassed and blushing, you were adorable. Seungmin found your eyes in the mirror. Your cheeks grew darker and you focused on washing off the germs. As long as you weren’t still crying and tearing up, Seungmin felt he was doing something right. 

“So should we go back to the others, or hunt down Changbin and see if he wants to tag along for tomorrow’s date night?”

“Seungmin!” 

“So that’s a no on having an open relationship? Fine. I was just asking, but if you ever change your mind, you know where to find me.” 

“Yeah, probably feeling up Changbin.” 

“Now you’re talking my lingo, babe.”

| ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ | ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ | ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ |

Taglist: @lia-linny @seungnishi @stellasays45 @emilyywhyy @rockstarkkami @flightlessackerman @inlovewithstraykids @velvetmoonlght @chrizrizz @ari-hwanggg @m-325 @justcallmewhatyoulike

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Ko-fi

[shoku-and-awe]

No food but around this time last year, I finally made it out to RyuQKan, the underground "temple" that protects Tokyo from floods! I'd been wanting to go for years, and it was as massive and memorable as I'd always hoped!

This is a little different from my normal posts, but click through for some advice if you choose to go (which you definitely, definitely, DEFINITELY should)! Also, if it's April or May, you should also see the 1200-year-old wisteria while you're out there! It is possibly the best-smelling place in the world.

In terms of content, the tour itself was pretty bare bones. I wanted to do one of their in-depth technical tours (especially because they have titillating names like "Shaft Experience" and "Pump Fluency"), but those only run once or twice a week :( The Underground Temple tour, which runs several times a day, turned out to be a bit of construction and history talk plus 20 minutes of unstructured photo time. Don't get me wrong—it is still an EXTREMELY cool and unforgettable experience, but I really wonder what the big tours are like. Oh well! Guess I will have to visit this super unique and fascinating place again! Poor me.

In terms of accessibility, to participate, you have to be able to walk down ~150 stairs and then up again. There are no elevators or bathrooms. They don't recommend it to people with a fear of heights. I got the sense that the bigger tours might have additional physical demands.

I don't usually bother with guide apps or headsets, but I was glad I did here! There's lots of information to take in and my mind was reeling once we got underground and I saw the cisterns, so I was glad to be able to go at my own pace and have an English reference so I could really process everything. They have WiFi at the museum so you can download it right there.

The bus schedule took me FOREVER to find and I'm not doing that again, so I am saving a PDF and a searchable link here for when I finally go back for my Shaft Experience™. Also, tour reservations here, course descriptions here. You're welcome, future me.

[zooophagous]

The world had gotten smaller since Strauss was young. Fine goods like spices, sugar and coffee were once the coveted treasures of world traders, And now they were so commonplace they were widely regarded as “cheap.”

The Himalayan Yak restaurant was not cheap. Not according to the reviews that dotted the page beneath the address on Artemis’ phone. It barked orders and directions in a flat monotone.

“In one thousand feet, turn right.”

Strauss hated that grating, tinny voice. His delicate senses were quickly being overwhelmed by it, and the encroaching scent of spices as they found the parking lot. He was unable to eat any of the food here. He wondered if his opinion of the smell would be different if he could safely taste it. 

Part of him was jealous. The smell was rich and complex. Humans had a wealth of flavor available to them. He really only had one. A metallic tang and nothing more. Though, inwardly, he was relieved by that. No surprises at dinner, and that suited him fine.

“So, Troy’s favorite is a vegan yellow curry. If there is a customer who frequently orders it, we likely have Troy cornered.”

“I sure hope you're right. I don't know how many vegans are in this town. Small town Minnesota isn't exactly chock full of them. Should make it easier to narrow down?”

“Yes. It will work. I have a good feeling about it.”

Strauss went inside first, only to wrinkle his nose and step back. The smell of spices was tolerable, yes, but the smell of garlic gave him pause. He coughed into his sleeve.

“Van Helsing. Perhaps you should do the talking.”

“Right.” She cleared her throat And approached the counter.

“Hi, how many?” The cheerful hostess greeted the sullen pair.

“Actually, I was wondering if you could help us. See, we um. We're looking for a missing person.”

“Ok?” Came the suspicious reply. 

“Do you… have anyone who orders the same thing a lot? Like especially vegan dishes? Probably for take out?”

“I'm sorry, are you with the police?”

“Well, no, but we know the person and-”

“I'm sorry, our business records aren't really something I can just show people. For privacy reasons and… Yeah.”

The hostess was visibly uncomfortable. Strauss was already nearing the end of his patience as the hot smell of cooked garlic stuck like oil to his nose and eyes and made him blink back the irritation.

“Let me try. Ahem.”

He stepped in front of Artemis rather rudely, and stared down at the much shorter hostess like a looming shadow. His voice was deep, authoritative and, as Artemis listened, oddly almost alluring. 

“Guten abend. I am Mr. White. My associate and I are private investigators working on a missing persons case. It is imperative that we get answers as multiple lives may be at stake. Our target is in grave danger, both himself and those near him may be affected. You will allow us access to records. Now.”

Artemis raised her eyebrows in surprise as the vampire worked his magic. She watched the poor dumbfounded hostess with bated breath- if she fought back at all the illusion would collapse and they might be in trouble.

The hostess stood silently for a moment before finally breaking the tension with “y-yes, ok, sorry. Here. What did you want to see?” She began fidgeting with the ipad at the counter.

Artemis breathed a sigh of relief as “Mr. White” explained what he needed. “I am looking for a customer, a frequent customer, who only orders vegan dishes. He likely orders his food ‘to-go’ and frequently orders yellow curry. He is white, young, but likely not using his real name.”

“Ok, ok. We only have a couple of regulars who only eat vegan…an-and only one of them has an address in the system.”

Strauss glared hawkishly at the iPad screen. “Should have known.”

“Should have known what?” Artemis asked.

“Take this address down and put it into your navigation system. I know where Troy is.” Strauss shook his head as if he were disappointed. He turned to the hostess who now looked dizzy, and very confused.

“Vielen dank fur die hilfe. Do not speak of us to anyone. You could jeopardize the entire investigation. Is that clear?”

“Yeah… Yes. Of course.”

“Good. A beautiful evening to you.”

He turned on his heel and marched back out into the parking lot, grateful for fresh air.

Artemis trotted after him. “You're sure you know? How? Where is he? And WHAT was that? Did you hypnotize that poor girl?”

“Yes I did. I did not harm her. I simply asked more forcefully than you did.” Strauss declined to answer the rest of the questions as he climbed into the cab and waited for the annoying robotic voice to lead them once more to their prey. 

“I cannot believe I did not think of it sooner. I am so unbelievably stupid. Hunger must have left me bereft of senses. And Troy… he is the most stupid of us all.”

Strauss grumbled in his seat.

“Wish you were a little less esoteric about this.” Artemis asked with a hint of a barb in her voice.

“Trust me Van Helsing. You will get your lycan. We are on the fastest route, and you will have your answers in seven minutes.”

The car rolled quietly down the side streets. Strauss sat looking angrier by the moment in the front seat but still saying nothing. “In one thousand feet turn right.”

Artemis slowed down for the turn. The red marker grew ever closer on the digital map until Strauss took off his seatbelt and jumped from the car while it was still in motion.

“Hey- HEY! Strauss! Where the Hell are you going?”

“He's in here.” Strauss marched up to an unassuming looking little house, hardly bigger than a bread box and shaped like one too. He pounded on the door.

A meek looking but familiar face appeared. “Mr. Strauss? You're alive?!”

“Hello Samuel. Let me in.”

Strauss didn't ask, but demanded. Sam stood back and let him enter. Strauss disappeared into the house with Artemis following behind. She exchanged wide, confused glances with Sam as she passed.

Strauss stomped into the living room with a scowl. “Hello herr Cunningham.” 

Troy sputtered on his soda, and dropped his video game controller as Strauss yanked him to his feet with a snarl.

“Do you have ANY idea how long we've been looking for you! Did you think you'd just leave us behind? Never say a word?”

“Get OFF me man!” Troy shoved his palm into the vampire's nose, Strauss reacted with a curl of his lip and a slap of his own. Back and forth, blow for blow, the slapping escalated to shoving and Strauss was sent into a wall where a framed poster fell and became a casualty in the vampire-lycan wars.

The shoving became wrestling and growling, when Strauss did something unexpected. He wrapped his arms tightly around Troy and held still, force hugging him till he stopped moving. Troy carefully reached up with his one free hand and patted Strauss on the back. “You ok there big guy?”

“No I am not ok.” Came the somewhat weepy reply. “I thought my friend was dead. And now you have returned from the grave.” 

“Hey… hey it's ok. I'm sorry.”

“Why didn't you tell us you were ok?” Artemis asked as she finally dared to enter the room with the supernatural combatants.

“It's not because I don't like you guys or anything ok? I was just going through a lot of stuff. I mean I killed a guy. And I was scared that if I tried to find you I might get caught. I sort of thought YOU were dead.”

“You could have checked before writing us off.” Strauss finally released his grip and wiped his nose messily on the back of his hand.

“You're right, you're right. But I was scared of what I might find. Scared I'd get caught myself. I thought maybe this would be a good way to… I don't know. Disappear? Lay low?”

“You should have left town then. This place is crawling with Witchfinders, and Sylvain. you're lucky you're such a shut in or you would have been caught already.”

“Yeah well. If you found me, it was only a matter of time I guess.”

“Yes. I'll have you know I used your own tricks against you, Cunningham. Baited the trap with your favorite food. You should consider expanding your culinary horizons.”

Troy huffed through his nose. “You're one to talk, Mr. White mice. How have you been getting fed lately with the Institute all busted up?”

“Largely Troy, I haven't been. That is a large portion of my problem. If I cannot find a feed I will be forced to take one. And that will most certainly be my doom.”

“So what do we do?”

“I'm glad you're using “we” here.” Artemis smiled sadly. “The short answer is, we don't know. We have to find a way to prove Strauss innocent … or else find a way to get into permanent hiding.”

She sat down on the couch with a sigh. “Neither option is easy or attractive. But the third option is to just give up.”

“You can give up. The most they will do is imprison you. Strip you of your titles or clearances. They will kill me.” Strauss replied flatly. “They will also kill Troy if they catch him. And Ursula is likely not going to survive either.”

“Right. We need to put together a plan.”

“Um. Excuse me.”

Strauss, Troy and Artemis turned to Sam, who stood in the doorway looking awkward.

“Um. Can I um. Can I get you guys anything to drink? Or a snack? I don't have any uh… any blood I can give you but I have water, coffee, soda, beer…”

Strauss looked at his companions and then back to Sam. “I will take that beer. Perhaps we all need one. It will be a long evening.”

[maxtalksalarmclocks]

Spotlight: Panasonic RC-60

So here's a brief story.

When I set up this blog, I searched "alarm clocks" on Tumblr and was a little disappointed to see very few results. (At least several of which were explicit, because...it's Tumblr.)

But I did see the alarm clock I'm reblogging now, the Panasonic RC-60! It's cool, right? It's got fun colors, and angled fonts, and triangular buttons, including a snooze "doze" button that looks like the clock's top-right corner was chopped off. Neat! The 80s-ness reminds me of the GE P'Jammer.

I didn't reblog the clock at the time, because I didn't have more to say about it. But then my wonderful friend @cytochrome-sea sent this very same Tumblr post my way, asking for my feedback! And that inspired me to do a Google search of this clock...where I discovered two delightful things that you wouldn't know about this clock from the original post!

I will share them with you now.

Delightful thing #1:

There is a marble-look version:

As an alarm clock expert, it is my professional opinion that it's really weird for alarm clocks to look like they're made out of marble. You don't see that every day!

There's also a black model. I'd say it's for people who hate fun, but it's actually secretly my favorite version... (Don't tell anyone...)

So that's delightful thing #1. Now for...

Delightful thing #2:

You see that big cutout on the back-left corner of the clock, in the photos above?

The clock can sit on that cutout instead.

Look:

This is off the rails. There are many alarm clocks that move around between different positions. I've done a whole post on such clocks. But usually it's as a means of controlling the clock.

With this clock? There's zero purpose for the positions besides it looking cool! I love how in both the "cube" and "diamond" positions, as I'm calling them, different parts of the clock are upright or askew. Like, with the cube position, the display and buttons are upright, but the doze button and the labels around the display are not. Then with the diamond position, the doze button and the labels around the display are upright, but now the display and buttons are not!

I want to be the kind of human being who wakes up every morning and decides, based on how I'm feeling, if it's a "cube" or a "diamond" kind of day, and rotates my Panasonic RC-60 accordingly.

Something about the diamond/gemstone shape (and maybe also the marble look, come to think of it) made me think of my favorite show, Steven Universe, and I think if Steven had this clock, he too is the kind of person who would very deliberately rotate it each morning to set the tone for the day.

Additional photos:

It's neat that the way this clock is designed, the most essential controls (alarm stop, sleep timer, snooze, and alarm/radio on/off) are always accessible, and then more rarely used controls (time set, brightness, and AM/FM) are hidden on the back. Volume and tuning are relatively accessible on the sides.

That's all!

Thanks for letting me share the hidden sides (get it?) and hidden facets (get it?) of this one-of-a-kind alarm clock! See you soon!

Image credits:

eBay, eBay, Retrospekt, Retrospekt

Panasonic RC-60 Alarm Clock

[batchilla]

Chapter Three: Dread and Despair

Before we start a quick note: while the story loosely follows the events of the leaping into the light series, I am playing with the timeline because otherwise it would be a series longer than what I am really able to commit to at this stage in my life. So things are happening in a faster timeline and occasionally in a different order. You’ll work it out. I trust you.  Also if anyone wants to complain about how long this update took you I will politely remind you I was HIT BY A CAR TWICE between updates. 

You're starting to get worried, because Dick’s not at work. He’s never late, to the point of annoyance. You find yourself checking one of the more reliable Nightwing watching twitter accounts, but find nothing. He hadn’t even been active last night. 

Over the last week, you’d been slowly yet steadily collecting evidence. You’d done your best to be impartial towards James. But you had found cause for suspicion. He had arrived the day the file was moved. He knew people in high places, as evidenced by his promotion. But he wasn’t your only suspect. Honestly, finding a corrupt cop wasn’t hard in Bludhaven. It was finding the right one, who was the correct needle in a massive stack of needles instead of hay. You look around the break room, where Dick’s lunchbox of horrifically sweet snacks isn’t in the fridge, out at the dividing glass into the bullpen as you make yourself a sandwich. 

Your captain would have unquestioned access. He had little care for Buldhaven’s homeless population, but catching a suspected serial killer would be a feather in his cap and a ticket to an early retirement. A beat cop could have snuck in and done it. Less power, but they could have been bought or blackmailed. So could anyone, really. You’d been sifting through the entire department. Last time you saw him as Nightwing you had gone a little too far. Taken up too much of the time you had with your little false accusation prank. Not to mention, he had not taken it particularly well. Over the last week, he’d gone out of his way to be helpful to you. When you’d asked him for a favour, he’d been strangely intense. Grabbed your shoulders and told you he’d never let you down. So clearly, righting your perception of him was something he was desperate to do. You occasionally felt bad about it all. Then you remembered he’d called himself Richard bloody Grerson to your face and expected it to work, and were annoyed enough to let go of the guilt. 

Grerson. Did he think you were an idiot? 

How the hell has he maintained a secret identity up to this point? Fucking Grerson. You finished making your sandwich and sat back down at your desk, trying to act as if nothing was wrong and you weren’t so worried you felt like you might cry. You almost envied the time when you hadn’t known. You’d assume he’d been out late, or he was sick. 

Now you knew, and you were worried that he’d been murdered, or he’d missed a grapple and was lying in some alleyway all alone and in pain. You're so busy worrying about Dick that you don’t even notice when someone occupies his seat. “Hey.” You look up. Sitting across from you is Officer Rodwell. 

She’s a wiry woman. Curly hair in a messy bun, kind eyes, deep brown skin and an overall soothing presence. She looks exhausted. You know the feeling. She looks scared, and you know why. You are too. “He's back.” she says, fiddling with one of Dick’s many desk toys, a newton's cradle, full of nervous energy. “He’s back.” you agree, resting your chin on your hand, holding your fingers over your mouth. “Honestly soon as he came back I felt like I was an idiot for not seeing it coming.” you admit. “Same.” Janet says, shaking her head. “If he tries anything… I’ll watch your back if you watch mine.” she says, and you nod. “Of course, Janet.” your agreement is immediate. But your concerns run deeper. You would help, you meant that. You just didn’t know if it would matter. “Might happen sooner rather than later, Captain Leo has asked to see me in his office at 12.” You furrow your brow and pull open your calendar. “Well, look at you Ms Priority, he doesn’t want me till 12:30.” The invitation glows menacingly, lingering in your mind's eye even as you close the tab.  “What do you expect it’ll be about? How he’s sorry Mc Elroy came back and he won’t let him get up to his old shit?” Janet snorts. “That’d be lovely. Also, he’ll tell me I can take the detectives exam early.” You hum. “Well… guess there’s not long to wait.” It’s not, objectively. Subjectively? It feels like an eternity until you are called into your captain’s office. You only catch the last few words of what Captain Harrison says to Rodwell as the door shuts “...and give my best wishes to your son, eh? We’re all thinking of him. I’m sure the insurance will pull through.” You exchange a tight smile, a nod, and brush past her into the office. 

Captain Harrison took care of his officers. That was not an endorsement. To him, the thin blue was a religious idol. He covered up whatever he deemed necessary as part of the benefits of the job, looked away and denied the most egregious acts committed by those reporting to him. He’d never forgiven you for taking the Mc Elroy incident further than his precinct, but while he’d make your life hell with the worst assignments, he would probably cover it up if you shot a kid. Pig. He grins at you as you slip into the seat across from him. Says your name with a warmness you resent from a man like him. “You wanted to see me Captain?” “Yes, yes, no need to look nervous. I just wanted to be sure that the Sargent has been behaving himself?” You bristle. Yes, in your one, supervised interaction, he had not committed a reportable offence. “Why would you think he wouldn’t be?” is your deflection. 

He taps his hands against the desk in lighthearted annoyance at Mc Elroy you know he doesn’t truly feel. 

“So defensive. Look, you're the best gal in my bullpen-” you are the best in his bullpen. Second to Grayson maybe. It’s hard to be sure given he cheats with his connections. “But while what he said wasn’t on, Me too, I’m with her, and all that, when we can’t present a united front, well, it emboldens the scum.”

Disagreeing at this moment will make everything worse for you, and for Rodwell. So you present a united front. Nod and pick your battles. You hate yourself for it. But you hadn’t joined the force with the intention to fix it from the inside, because you can’t. The rot is too deep for that. You joined in the hopes that you could help a few people. Every case that comes across your desk is in the hands of someone who cares, rather than the Mc Elroys and Harrisons of the force, and that's the best you can do. 

“But, all's well that ends well. So long as you keep your head down, I can see you getting a similar promotion in the not so distant future. Even with this terrible Grayson business.”

This whole time your heart has been teasing at moving into your throat, and now, finally, it has. 

“What?” You croak, as the office fades away and you are blinded by dread. “I mean to say, the announcement he made this morning is a nice idea-” Announcement? What… oh. Dick had done something. You, for all your thoroughness in investigating Nightwing, you’d neglected the other half. “Heaven, or whatever high handed title he gave his project… Really, he should have gone into social work if he wanted to be so soft about these things. You, I at least get, you like the puzzles and the solving, him? No clue why he wanted the badge.” Your tongue is too big for your mouth and too heavy to speak with. 

“I’m a little out of the loop,” you admit. “Has something happened?” “Well, if we do need to assign you a new partner, I hope you keep a closer eye on him, eh? Yes. As far as I know he’s alive, but I'm afraid someone’s put a price on his head.” You are on your feet in a second. “Who? Why?” Badge on your belt - check. “Who, I can’t say. Sufficient enough sum that it could only be a few people. He announced some hippy bullshit save bludhaven project. Re- vamping that tent city those kids hideout in to be something decent or some such…best guess blockbuster didn’t like that. I sent out an order to bring him into protective custody.”

Gun on your hip - Check. Hopefully you wouldn’t need it, but things could get ugly if someone had gotten to him by the time you caught up.

You're leaning over the desk, close enough to see Captain Harrisons pores and smell the tuna salad he had for lunch. “Rescind it.” You say all too quickly, racing the part of your brain that wants you blindly running into Bludhavens streets to get to him. You needed to stay calm. Reasonable. You aren’t a vigilante, you can’t run into the danger head first. You need a plan, and you don’t have a secret identity to carry it out as. Harrison knew what would happen if Dick came into protective custody. He’d have some tragic accident. Something would go ‘wrong’, and he would be dead, a fish in a barrel. He knew and he would let it happen, because unlike you, Dick was too good to bite back the bile and keep his head down. He’d made one too many waves and he was being left to his fate. 

“I’ll get him.” You leave no room for argument. “No need to waste the resources. He listens to me. I’ll make sure he’s safe.” And you're off, out the door. Across the bullpen. Out of the precinct. As fast as your feet, and then your patrol car, will carry you.

You go out too fast. You don’t see it. The eyes on you. The person taking information on your partner, Grayson, and giving it to the heartless killer out of desperation. You don’t see it, and Dick hasn’t seen it yet either. But someone does. Someone with a vested interest in anything Richard Grayson had to lose. And now, they know he has you. Can lose you. 

It’s a pity. You are liked. But when a child is in need of a heart transplant and has been denied, horror befall those who would underestimate a mothers desperation. 

Captain Harrison took care of his detectives. His uniformed officers less so. Allowed to bear the brunt of the consequences of crossing Mc Elroy, Officer Janet Rodwell had been left alone against the hate. 

Fucked over by Shel Pharmacuticals when her son needed a new heart, and offered a solution by a monster, which, with no where else to turn, she took. 

Her boy needed a new heart, and to ensure that… she’d help tear Grayson down, if she had to. 

His partner… it was a pity they were so close. Perhaps if they hadn’t been, she could have been spared. Collateral is a leading cause of death in Bludhaven, and surely she will join them. Pity indeed. 

You had made it to his apartment. Made it just in time to see it burn to the ground. He helped with the evacuation. Of course he did, that wonderful fool. You wouldn’t change that, wouldn’t hope otherwise, because to do anything else would not have been him. There were no other casualties. A miracle, some think. Richard Grayson, you know. You just wished he’d made it out. He probably did, you tell yourself. Probably he’s up in the justice league's space satellite or the batcave or something insane. Because if he is alive, he surely made the call to get out of Bludhaven. At least for now. 

But you put the wingding in the window anyway. And you get to work. Take away containers pile up and mold over, and you work. Your clothes feel like cardboard, and you work. The smell, the fact that you haven’t left your apartment in days, and the general aura of despair you must be radiating causes three neighbours to come and check if you’re alive. 

You’re pretty sure you get fired at some point. Not ideal, but you can get your job back. Say you were in mourning or something. You might be. He’s been gone so long now. You’d figured he’d make it out, lay low, and come back. He wasn’t back. The wingding in your window is dusty. You don’t remove it. You work, and you work, and you work. You think you're close. Too many corrupt cops to find one, but you study the ways they are corrupt. Blockbuster doesn’t seem to be aligned with heartless, and that eliminates a vast swath of them. So you keep working. It wasn’t your Captain, too busy bending over for blockbuster, and you reluctantly had to acknowledge Mc Elroy’s innocence. And you work. 

Till eventually there’s the rap of knuckles on your window. You don’t think you’ve ever moved so fast. Or been so disappointed to see the red and black of Red Robin. Or felt such cold dread in the presence of a young man.  Why was he here? If his brother had come to see you… were all your worst fears true? “Yes?” you say quickly, opening the window and stepping back for him, too tired and too scared and too sad to care about playing dumb “Is Dick okay?” “Who?” Red Robin asks, cocking his head innocently. “Cut the shit, Tim” is your snapping reply. Red Robin drops away, and you are staring at a befuddled boy in a cape. “He told you?” “For fucks sake - I am a goddam detective. No, he didn’t say a word, but his mask covers 20% of his face at most, and his extended family all have rather obvious physical similarities to the rest of the bats.” Tim nods, and furrows his brow “well, that’s… I of all people can’t be mad about that I guess.” You don’t know what that means. In better days to come maybe you’ll ask. Not today. “Tim. Is he okay?” The young man nods. “Relatively speaking, yes. He is. I- Well given you know I suppose I can tell you a lot more than I planned. We were able to track down and arrest enough major players to scare others off taking the hit on him - Dick can return to public life soon. But when he does, we’ll want you with him. Or people you trust. Most of the time he’ll have someone a little better equipped watching him as well - No offence -” You shrug. “Glad to hear it. I’m a decent shot and a good detective but I am by no means one of you.” Tim continues “But it will also help to have you on him, and to keep up the appearance that he’s not anything special.” “Even without Nightwing, I don’t think you could convince a single person that Dick isn’t something special.” Is it true? Yes. Is it an embarrassing thing to have slipped out in front of his little brother? Also yes. Tim doesn’t comment, but you know it’s been filed away in the steel trap of his mind. 

“Well, regardless, be on your toes. You’re a target too, now.” That almost draws a laugh out of you.”Me? Why would I be a target? I don’t matter, not on the scale he operates at.” Red Robin snaps back into place as the young man stares at you like you just asked how people were sure the Joker was mentally unstable and not just misunderstood. “Ohhh you’re another one” “Another what?” “Idiot genius.” “Excuse me?” You take a step back in slight offence. “You’ll work it out.” is his reply, but he does smile. “Dick will be coming back soon. I know he’s had you working through potential moles put in the BCPD by Heartless. Any progress?” You nod, and wave him further into your apartment to see the board. Well. Presumably the cork board is still in there somewhere, having absorbed the wall it rested on. Ten newspapers. Seventeen files you absolutely shouldn’t have. Thirty pages of printer paper. Forty nine sticky notes. Over 200 pins and eight balls of red wool. It is a thing of beauty in your humble opinion. Red Robin clasps his hands together. “Mhm. Yes. We’re going to be friends.” “So, finding a clean cop in Bludhaven is basically impossible. Hell, by the definition I don’t even count, given I’m helping vigilanties. So I’ve tried to narrow down who works for Heartlesses competitors. My instinct was the new Sergeant, Mc Elroy. But it can’t be him, the timeline is all wrong. My Captain wouldn’t do it either. He’s scum, and he is letting Heartless get away with wildly too much, but he doesn’t do murder. White collar crime and letting others off the hook, as long as he can lie to himself about being the hero. He wouldn’t work with an obvious sadist.” “Which just leaves everyone else.” Red Robin hums.

“Less opportunity, but so many of them…”  “Exactly” you agree, hand on your chin.

“I have a good swath of people ruled out… so many of them work for Blockbuster or corrupt officials who lead back to Blockbuster. So many. It’s depressing, honestly. I have found a few that are suspiciously clean… and therefore suspect.”

You take a ruler and tap out your suspects faces where they are pinned at eye level.

“Dick Grayson; we can safely ignore him, but he acts suspicious enough to be a decent red herring, and to not consider him would be suspect if I was caught and this was found.”

“Bet Nightwing loved that.” Tim laughs.

“Oh his face was classic.But moving right along… Officer Jeeves, Officer Rodwell, and Officer Hughes. Jeeve’s is green, but he’s viable. Hughes, I haven’t been able to find anything on really. Rodwell… It wouldn’t be her.”

“No?” Red Robin fixes you with a stern look. “Is that an objective opinion?”

“No.” You admit. “But I trust her.”

At this point you have read nearly 10,000 words of this series, and so should really REBLOG, because likes on tumblr are meaningless! Please share your thoughts, I feed off them like a validation vampire. @sunnie-angel is the BEST beta a girl can ask for and you should check out her work! Banner was made by @stangergraphics

I no longer have a taglist but please follow @batchilla-announces-fics and turn on notifications to stay informed!

[1000cavalry]

Odysseus is actually really smart

I think a lot of people know that Odysseus is meant to be intelligent but actually view him as merely the smartest out of a group of idiots. To defend his reputation I am going to list every brilliant thing I can remember him doing in the Odyssey in chronological order.

(Warning: this is a really long post)

He comes up with the plan to drug Polyphemus and directs his crew to gouge out his eye with a sharpened branch.

He uses the alias ‘nobody’ to confuse the other Cyclopses when Polyphemus cries for help.

He has his men hide under sheep to escape the cave so that Polyphemus can’t catch them. He ties the sheep together in threes, so that if Polyphemus tries to check the undersides of the sheep, he will only feel the outer two sheep, while a soldier hides under the middle one.

On Circe’s island he hunts a massively large deer single handedly to feed his grieving crew and boost morale. At the same time he also notices smoke rising (from Circe’s palace) and later sends a scout party led by Eurylochus. This shows good leadership and delegation skills.

When trying to listen to the sirens he personally ensures all the crew members have blocked their ears with wax. He is also the one who softens the wax for everyone using his fingers (if you’ve ever tried to do this you will know it’s fairly hard work).

He tries to avoid Thrinacia (Helios’ island) as he has been warned away from it. When they end up getting trapped there he makes his crew swear oaths not to touch the cattle. He falls asleep while praying to the gods for guidance. He is cautious and pious.

When Calypso offers to release him he makes her swear an oath not to cause mischief. (He is cautious)

He builds a boat single-handedly. This is particularly notable as a skill that you would not expect a king to have. He is a good craftsman.

When supplicating Nausicaa (the Phaeacian princess) he subtly reveals details that will make her want to help him without revealing his identity. He mentions that he was a general, implying high status. He references visiting the temple of Delphi, suggesting he is a well travelled and pious man. He compares her to Artemis, a virgin goddess, potentially to reassure her that he will not harm her.

When he returns to Ithaca he is able to come up with multiple detailed lies about his identity on the spot. He pulls pages and pages of made up backstory out of nowhere. Truly the king of improv.

While disguised he tests the loyalty of some of his slaves. He ends up revealing his identity to Eumeus and Phileotius, who stand with him and Telemachus in the battle against the suitors..

He has Telemachus lock away all the weapons in advance so the suitors can’t access them. When the suitors question this, they use the excuse that the weapons were becoming damaged by smoke and that they were worried the suitors might get drunk and start fighting each other. He also has the palace gates locked so they can’t escape/ raise a cry for help in the town.

After the massacre, he has the slaves play music and dance so that passers by will think a wedding is happening. This buys them more time before the suitors’ families discover their deaths.

The next morning he immediately recruits more people (Dolon and his family) in preparation for a confrontation with the families of the suitors. Athena prevents the battle but this does show that Odysseus will not become complacent, even after returning home.

This is everything I can think of right now but I am certain there are things I have missed.

In conclusion, Odysseus is a smart dude.

[saveahorserideaneddie]

Buddie Fics Master Post

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Hi all! As we come to the unfortunately disappointing end of another season, I know a lot of us are turning to fanfic to keep our spirits up. So, I’m making this master post that will be pinned to my page to give easy access to anyone who may be interested in reading any of my fics! I’ve had the thought of doing this for a while, but I just (unfortunately) never got around to it until now. I won’t be linking all of my fics here, but I am going to link some of my more popular fics, as well as some of my personal favorites.

This post will also feature my latest fics as I continue to write and post fics, so i will be editing it from time to time, and thus some fics may be added or removed, but all of my fics will still be able to be accessed on my ao3 page!

❤️❤️❤️❤️

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✨ LATEST FIC ✨

more than just this

T, buddie, m/m, 2,758 words

Chris calls Buck “Dad”

Buck, of course, panics about it.

> Most Popular Fics <

they got no idea (about me and you)

T, buddie, m/m, 6,710 words

5 times everyone thought Buck and Eddie were cluelessly in love, and 1 time they found out just how wrong they were.

your pain fits in the palm of my freezing hand (but it’s been promised to another)

M, buddie, m/m, 7,769 words

Tommy tries to cheat on Buck with Eddie- Eddie says fuck no and goes to Buck- Buck then actually cheats on Tommy with Eddie

he’s not a saint (and he’s not what you think)

M, buddie, m/m, 24,860 words

Eddie Punches Tommy- Chaos Ensues (a not-actually-spec s8 spec fic)

❤️ Author’s Favorites ❤️

people say i’m jealous but my kink is watching you (bleaching your hair)

T, buddie, m/m, 5,931 words

the Eddie bleaches his hair fic

love stinks

T, buddie, m/m, 1,262 words

eddie gets sprayed by a skunk.

he and buck shower together about it.

love that caught on faster than a blaze

G, buddie, m/m, 1,580 words

Buck and Chris find a puppy. Eddie caves.

i know heaven’s a thing (i go there when you touch me)

E*, buddie, m/m, 2,524 words

the friends-with-benefits to lovers fic bc I needed an excuse to practice writing smut.

**this fic is mislabeled as Mature on ao3; i have tried to fix it multiple times and it hasn’t worked for some reason and ao3 support did not help me so just be aware of that! <3

i’d marry you with paper rings

T, buddie, m/m, 10,262 words

basically i wanted to write a buddie fic based on the 'happy ending' scene from the Schitt's Creek finale and this is what that fic became

Josh plans Buddie's wedding- chaos ensues, it's a 5+1.. i don't really know how else to describe it.

📚 Series 📚

** both of these are currently indefinitely unfinished; the christmas one i intend to finish this year since i had a personal issue irl that prevented me from being able to finish them this year, but the other is dependent on whether or not i find inspiration to continue writing in that universe ❤️**

Don’t You Ever Grow Up (Baby-girl!dad Buddie)

G, 2 works, 2,444 words total

12 Days of Fic-mas

T, 7 works, 6,754 words total

[ellebellewritesfic]

I Look In People's Windows

For Day 5 of @empyreanevents Bodhi week: Prompt is I Look In People's Windows.

Thank you to my darling @theoppositequeens and Cassie for the beta 🥰

Read on AO3 here.

I had died the tiniest death I spied the catch in your breath Out, out, out, out, out, out

The first time it happened, he didn’t even realise what it was. Just a flicker, barely a moment – Xaden's step slowing, breath hitching, before his voice hardened again.

“No, Bodhi. Not this one.”

And then he was gone, disappearing into the shadows like he always did. Like Bodhi hadn’t asked. Like Bodhi hadn’t wanted.

He’d stood there in the corridor, mouth still parted, excuse half-formed. Not this one. It was never this one. It was always next time, later, someday.

Each refusal was small. Nothing grand. Not betrayal. Just... absence. Another tiny fracture where he couldn’t point to the wound, only feel the ache after. He learned not to argue. He learned how to make it a joke – the little pause before Xaden left – a “nearly got you that time”. 

But truthfully, every refusal made him die a little bit more inside. Every no was another rift inside him. 

And somehow, the fact that Xaden’s breath hitched and he almost changed his mind made it worse. 

North bound I got carried away As you boarded your train South, south, south, south, south, south A feather taken by the wind blowing I'm afflicted by the not knowing

All his friends moved forward. That was the thing of it.

Xaden went to Basgiath first, heavy with grief and vengeance and leadership, Garrick at his side. Imogen burned through the world like a comet, dangerous and brilliant, always in motion. Liam’s abilities took him straight to the top regardless of the relic on his arm, with his easy grin and his steadiness – and then he died a hero.

Violet arrived with wide eyes, fumbling abilities and unsteady joints and somehow, impossibly, became part of the centre of it all.

And Bodhi just stayed in the background. Waiting. Training. Being told to hold position.

Directionless. Rootless.

So he stayed, always slightly out of sync. Watching the people he loved march south – toward purpose, toward the future – while he drifted north without really realising that’s what he was doing – in a carriage that seemed to have left of its own volition, with him as the sole passenger.

And the worst part was, he didn’t know why. He didn’t know what made him so seemingly different to all those around him, why he they all seemed to know where to go, how to move forward, when he felt trapped and confined where he was. 

Not knowing why drove him insane. 

I look in people's windows Transfixed by rose golden glows They have their friends over to drink nice wine I look in people's windows In case you're at their table

He started noticing more things after that. The way the others – Xaden, Imogen, Garrick – glowed when they spoke. Not literally, but close enough. They had presence. Gravity. Their tables were always full. People leaned in when they talked – would fight for the chance to share a meal with them.

They made it look effortless, this belonging. Like gravity pulled them toward one another.

Meanwhile, Bodhi lingered at the edge. Orbiting them – close, but never quite pulled in. No, he watched. He listened. He laughed when they laughed. He wondered, sometimes, if they talked about him when he wasn’t there. If they noticed the empty space.

He sat with them sometimes – had access to all the same things as them. The nice wines, the best rooms. He ate beside them. Even made them laugh. But there was a difference between presence and place. Between being tolerated and being missed.

Or maybe he’d already become part of the furniture. Something useful. Something solid. Something you assumed would always be there, but never really thought about.

He started catching himself stepping back more – lingering in corridors, watching conversations that weren’t meant for him. Not in a creepy way, just… observing. Hoping, maybe. That someone might look up. That someone might say, “Come sit.”

They didn’t. Not often.

He wasn’t unwelcome. But he didn’t feel wanted either.

And all he had ever wanted was for somewhere he belonged. Where his presence mattered – made a difference. Instead he watched them bond more tightly – Violet included in their circle – while he was still just there as the spare. He didn’t even have a proper signet to bring to the table, nothing he could offer up – he was as neutral and unnoticeable as his neutral signet. 

Would they even notice if he wasn’t at the table anymore?

What if your eyes looked up and met mine One more time

He remembered Xaden’s expression at the edge of the small plot of land where they had buried Liam in Aretia. Not just the grief – Bodhi understood that. But the way his eyes swept over the crowd, landed on Bodhi for half a second – and then moved on.

That half second haunted him. Because it was brief enough to be coincidence, but long enough to feel like something.

Did he see him? Did he ever worry he’d lose Bodhi the way he lost Liam?

Would he, now?

Bodhi thought of that more often than he wanted to admit. That maybe what he wanted wasn’t even leadership, or power, or even belonging.

Maybe he just wanted someone to look at him like he mattered. Not as an accessory. Not as a mirror of someone else’s brilliance. Not as the one you left behind when things got dangerous.

But as Bodhi. Nothing more. Nothing less.

To be seen. 

He had spent his whole life close to power – to legacy, to heroism – but never quite central. He had stood beside Xaden and Garrick – in the proximity of something incredible, but without ever truly belonging – watching them be decisive, chosen, and bold. He was always present, but somehow always on the edge of the frame.

He’d always found it both powerful and beautiful to watch… but never quite known how to enter. Never quite believed he was meant to.

Because being strong, or loyal, or present, was never quite enough, never quite seen amongst all the other people gathered, the other people playing their parts, making a difference. 

And if his own cousin didn’t even see him, what chance was there that anyone else would? They had always followed Xaden’s lead – even when their parents had still been alive – and so why would now be any different?

Bodhi was alone. On the outside, watching as everyone else found their purpose, had goals other than being the “spare Riorson” – moving on and up without him. 

None of them looking back.

But gods, sometimes he wished someone would look back. Just once more.

And see him, watching through a window from the outside.

[hanginginthevoid]

Teddy Grahams (1)

pairing : Bob Reynolds x Reader

a/n - soo i havent written in like 5ish years? but this movie brought out this beast in me that needed to consume a story like this and i wasn’t seeing anyone do it so i decided to do it myself. its supposed to be a multiple part series but i’ll probably only continue it based on if theres a want. I also learned AFTER writing this there is a legit marvel character named Empath so lets just act like he doesn't exist, k thanks!

wc - 2.5k

warnings: description of fight scene, probably ooc bob and yelena, slowburn, (i don’t think there's anything else (if u see sumn lmk))

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The indomitable human spirit gets old really fast. If most people were to come across someone who could manipulate your thoughts and emotions, you’d run the other way, would you not? Same thing if they met with someone who could manipulate time, aging you decades in a single moment, right? You may not do the second one anymore, but the possibility is still there so the threat should still be prevalent. Most would, but apparently either of those options are much better than dealing with some shifty dealer. That damn spirit. 

The job is easy, essentially an in and out. Get in, bust a couple of guys up, maybe erase vital memories of a few more, deal with the guy in charge, get home and go to bed. Simple. But this numbskull blasted you with some sort of sound gun, and threw you off enough for them to land a clean shot, now you have to fix that before you can go to bed. Unbelievable. Most of the guys are tense, an inky yellow-orange mix flowing around their heads, but there's a couple of guys around the corner with these deep red auras, they’re more prepared than anyone else to fight her, gotta keep an eye out for their movements. The deepness of the red shows they’ve been stewing on something for a while, your intel was probably bad and they were just preparing for you this whole time. 

There's only seven people stuck with you in this hallway, if their nervousness affects them like it should, this will be lightwork. The guy on your left, receives a fast hook, connecting with his jaw and slamming his head into the corridor next to him. He slumps to the floor like a ragdoll, and then all hell breaks loose. A girl moves in on you from your right, rapidly flinging some sort of electrically charged baton. She connects with your right forearm, your suit disperses the electricity, allowing you to yank the baton from her and slam it into her knee. As you move in to incapacitate her, a knife flies by your face, creating a decent gash across your right cheek. The attention switches to the knife thrower, he’s some distance away, but you can close the gap in no time. After a couple of ducks, dives, and some redirects of punches or kicks, you’re face to face with the thrower. Putting your left hand onto his temple gifts you access to all of his memories, new and old, repressed or surface level. Quickly, you find any one that has to do with knives and get rid of them. He starts to cry, and that's when you chop at his pressure point and send him into la la land.

The remaining four lackeys were nothing special, they were too shaken up by the fall of their comrades to really land a solid hit. So the Empath still only walks out with her original bullet wound, and a gash up her right cheek. Those guys from before are still “hidden” around the corner though. Maybe they don’t know you can see them? You round the corner with a crease in your brow as you figure out something to say. 

“Yoo-hoo? Hey, I kinda wanna wrap this up, if one of you could just, y’know, guide me to the big bad himself that would be great.” 

But Instead of a verbal response, she receives a punch aimed for the center of her face. Guess you’ll just have to drag the path out of their memories later. The punch connects, not how it was supposed to, but it still hurts. Left cheek is gonna have a nasty bruise, but nothing that's unfixable. The force of it sends you back a few feet, but that doesn’t stop a fast recovery. If you could just get close enough to touch even the edges of this guy's aura, you can win. He’s tall, so even just trying to reach his aura is going to be a stretch, maybe if you jump you can reach it. But then he would snatch you up mid air... You could immobilize one of his arms and when he goes to slam you against the wall or floor you can reach it then. Yeah that should work.

So you charge at him. He goes to swing at you and that's when you grab his hand and swing your legs around his shoulder. You spread his hand open, not allowing him to retaliate, and put his shoulder into a leg lock. He tries at first to swing at you with his opposite hand, but he can’t hit anything to make you let go, so he unknowingly starts to go along with your plan. He raises his entire arm, curling you at an awkward angle but giving you perfect access to not only his aura, but his temple. And you're able to shut the whole thing down. Got the route you needed, and the shifty dealer himself folded as soon as he realized you took down the best muscle he had.

In retrospect, it sucks that you don’t use time manipulation on others anymore. This whole thing could have been done in a nice 15 minutes and you’d have the rest of your Tuesday night all to yourself. Oh well, it's a punishment that you deserve anyway.

–

Thank god you cleaned your apartment yesterday. Imagine coming home, after all of that, and still having to clean in the morning. Making your way into the kitchen, you remember that you forgot to go to the store, or at least make a grocery order. There's cold cuts, some cheese, and a pickle in the fridge. Some may say it's a struggle meal but it tastes good so who really cares? After rolling up the cold cuts, and taking a bite or two of cheese, it's time to deal with the elephant in the room. Moving to the bathroom and popping open the makeshift first-aid kit the real question arises, should you go forward or backward in time to heal your wounds? Forward will leave a neat scar, but you technically should clean the wound properly and maybe even apply a stitch or five to make sure that it closes properly. Backward will just put you right where you were before starting the job, just gotta dig the bullet out of your arm and you shouldn’t have any complications. 

The bullet in your left arm gets fished out with some tweezers, and then the wound that is left behind gets reversed, along with what's starting to feel like a broken cheekbone, right back to their former glory. But for the sake of having a keepsake, and something cool to talk about at events, the slash on your right cheek gets the five star treatment of being irrigated, cleansed, and then three steri-strips, equally spaced, to make sure that it closes up nicely before speeding up the healing process. 

The bed has rarely looked more comfy, so a shower can wait until the morning. Stripping out of the bottom half of your suit, and grabbing a soft oversized shirt, means it's time to go limp for at least 12 hours, 16 if you’re lucky.

You were never lucky. Someone, no two someones, actually four someones are in your apartment. Each aura is a little different, but two are mostly calm and the other two are a mix of everything that you’d never want to see. However, after the night you’ve had, its safe to say that you’re gonna ignore it until it becomes a pressing issue, and if they just wanna chill in your living room, then it's not considered pressing.

“..re you sure?”

“Yes Bob, I’m sure. I told you she’s done this before.”

“Well yeah, but you also said it was for someone that she was friends with. I’m just the guy who turned New York City into a pitch black vacuum of despair.”

“That was not you Bob, we’re here to help you understand that.”

You know that Russian accent. Yelena’s signed you up for a real case. She didn’t know that the last time you helped someone with their split personalities, one of them still wanted to be hidden so he could be “the fist” for some egyptian god or something. Maybe if she had asked, you could have politely declined, but nooo, why would she do that. 

Yelena opens the door with a bit more energy than necessary, “Good morning sunshine!”

“Good mornings come with a notice that you wanna stop by Lena.”

“Maybe to you! Let's get you a coffee so I can explain this impromptu visit, yeah?”

After moving to the kitchen, and explaining who Bob is, why he’s struggling with his powers, and how he wants to learn how to use his powers so he could help the team. Yelena is making this seem like it’ll be a cake walk, she’s better at lying at most but maybe she’s being honest and you really can have them out of your apartment in an hour or two. She keeps saying ‘A little difficulty using his powers’ though, if that’s what he’s here for, you're gonna need a little more meat on the bone before you bite. 

Over the rim of your cup, you eye Bob, before switching your attention back to Yelena “What do you mean by ‘A little difficulty' with his powers?” 

“Well, he has this not nice friend of his that just comes out if he uses his powers.” She responds, not missing a beat. 

“Like any time? Everytime he uses them?” Please say no. You wanted a cake walk, not this. 

“Ehhhhh, kinda? We haven’t really tested it ‘cause he’d rather be safe than sorry”

You look over at Bob, trying to look into his eyes but he’s got them so far into his hot chocolate that you can’t even catch a glimpse, you speak anyway. “So you’re limiting yourself.”

He jumps. It’s the first time you have addressed him since he and Yelena woke you up. He glances up, not expecting you to already be looking at him, and then looks back into his mug. “I mean… Maybe? I don’t really think so. It's better off if I stay out of the way and just let the real heroes do their thing. I would just mess everything up if I tried”

You let out a sigh like you've been holding it in since last week, “And you're willing to work with me on this? Like really work on it, I can only do so much by myself.”

Bob looks up again, this time holding eye contact, “Uh, yeah mhm. Yelena said you’ve helped people with controlling themselves before?”

A nod of agreement before responding, “Yeah, once or twice. Let's go into the living room, don’t wanna do my thing on a counter.”

You allow Bob to sit wherever he is most comfortable, then Yelena settles in on his right side to provide comfort. After they’ve adjusted into their preferred positions, you get up and sit on the back cushion of the couch, directly behind Bob. It’s not the most comfortable position, your knees frame his shoulders, and the wood that holds the couch together kinda digs into your butt, but this is the least intimate way you’ve found to really dig into someone's psyche. 

Before you can even start figuring out the who, what, and how's of the others inside Bob’s mind, he accidentally brushes your calf with his hand. Having never met Bob before and him probably thinking he was out of this phase, the two of you get sent into a void room from your own memories. Yelena knows something happened because of the blank look on your face, but she doesn’t get the chance to speak before Bob is already speaking with a panicked wavering to his voice.

“I'm so, so, so sorry. I thought I got over that. “

“Its oka-” You try to get a word in, but Bob cuts you off.

“No, I'm really really sorry. If you don’t want to help me anymore I understand. I should have been more careful. More focused. Please don’t be mad” He’s tearing up a bit, not much, but if you look close enough you can see the tears lining up on his waterline.

“Bob, it’s okay. I don’t blame you, I never blame anyone for the stuff that happens when I do this.” You take a couple seconds to adjust yourself and then gets back into it – “It's probably gonna be a little bit uncomfortable, I’m tryna separate your “sides” but also tryna understand them and bring them to a mutual understanding of each other. If you needa take a break or wanna get some food, just let me know.”

“Yeah. Yeah okay. I'm ready.”

You thought it would be quick. You really did. The guy had problems, sure, but so does everyone else. When you come to, the sun is no longer as high in the sky as it was. You and Bob have bits of hair sticking to your foreheads, thanks to the apparent swear you’ve worked up. After being in there for probably 4, maybe 6 hours, it's clear that this will take a lot of sessions to really figure everyone out. You move from the top of the couch, to sitting on Bob’s left side, making sure to leave ample space between you two. 

Yelena speaks first, “So, how’d we do?”

“Not bad. Definitely gonna need more than a few hours to sort it out.” You could see him in the starting stage of shutting down from, you think, disappointment, so you make an effort to give Bob some faith in himself, “You did good Bob, really. I definitely think we made progress in there!” 

And then Yelena states, “He’s all packed and everything already! I’ll go get his stuff.” And she’s gone.

You huff out a laugh, “How did she know?”

For the first time since coming to, Bob grins, “She uh, spends a lot of time with me? And she seemed to know you pretty well so I guess she just knew?”

“Hm. Yeah. Those black widows are usually 5 steps ahead, anyway. No need to waste my brain power tryna figure her out.” You pause for a few seconds, getting up off the couch and making your way to the kitchen, “Well, is there anything you want from the grocery store? I gotta hit it today anyway.”

Bob’s eyes have gone wide, trying to follow your movements without actually getting up and following you, “Can I maybe go with you? I eat whatever, but I’d like teddy grahams, and the team thinks I should be supervised at all times.”

You huff a laugh that ends up curling your face into a small smile, “Oh. Yeah man, I don’t really care. I'm a peruser though, you up for that?”

Bob gives you a sheepish smile back while fiddling with his fingers, “I haven’t really had time to peruse before. But I’ll give it a go!”