#I've gotten several comments about that already THEY'RE HIS ARMS

[buckets-thought-dump]

Give me your lunch money

[n0tamused]

dottore having to dispose of a faulty clone (maybe bc they were threatening reader) and then handfeeding reader parts of it like cannibalism as a metaphor for love…. do we see the vision or is this a little too 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂 💔💔

A/n: pookie you're all good, thank you for feeding my brain worms with this idea I'm sending you smooches. I do hope I executed this well. I had a lot in my head that I wanted to write for this but I didn't want this to turn into a word scramble so here's this. Enjoy <3

Content: Dottore x GN reader, dark content(?), a bit yandere, implied unhealthy relationship, implied cannibalism, cannibalism as a metaphor for love, idk what else to tag as I never posted something like this so if anything else needs tagging feel free to lemme know

Words: 735

Several candles lined the polished oak table, its surface smooth and almost sticky, the light rippling over the dark lines of the carvings on top like little light bugs chasing one another. The golden hues danced over the plates as well, but the dim light scarcely allowed for a good look at the dishes.

The fork extending forward to your lips was the only thing that held your attention long enough to be observed, taken in fully, lips closing around the bit of meat and vegetables. The juice and oil fills your mouth, sinking past your teeth and around your gums, the taste is rich yet stale all at once. You couldn’t comment on it, you didn't know what to say about it. Not with the Doctor sitting at your side and being the one to feed you so, so gently.

It's hard to remember when was the last time he looked so gentle, kind even, perhaps when he was lighting up the candles with such care, as if his own breath would blow the flames into a blaze, allowing you to see your plate in full.

The meat was well done, seasoned to your liking, and something told you it was Dottore’s own hand who prepared it, gave it his all to make it so perfect for consumption. Parts of him were laced through every sensation, every smell and every bite. Your own plate is set before him and he's cutting all your bites, spearing pieces of meat and salad onto the fork before feeding it to you, making sure you ate well.

The dull ache in your arms is brought back into memory as you languidly chew on a bite, and your fingers absentmindedly touch over your sleeves over where the bruises lay, feeling the ache grow.

“Do they still hurt you?” His voice called out amidst smoky smells and brown fog, calling you to the present. “Have you gotten any rest at all, my dear?” He added, his head tilting in your direction, his bird-like mask not allowing you for a glimpse of his ruby eyes, but from underneath you can see glimpses of the scars peeking through, teasing your eyes. For some reason he chose to wear it here, now, only puzzling you further. 

“No.. no.. they're fine… I’ll get some rest later tonight, sir..” you reply as you swallow and watch how he grimaced at the title, and you nearly cough from how big this bite was, but you would have taken a bigger bite had Dottore allowed you to feast yourself. Perhaps not, but you told yourself you would. Be it the rich taste or some other factor, you yearned to take up each bone from the meat and lick it clean, sucking out the marrow from within and letting it melt into your guts.

Would he be satisfied then?

Would you be?

The candles flicker. He's still looking at you

“Are you still afraid? I've already told you so, and explained it many times. You have nothing to fear here. This was just an error in the system which will not ever happen again.. and you shouldn't have been around to witness it, anyhow..”. You have to wonder how he can say all this with so little fear. Then again, the clone was his creation. He knew it inside and out, every crevice and every wire.

“I understand.. it's just that.. I'd rather not face the others now..not after that..” 

Truth be told, having him around was also slightly unnerving, as he wore nearly an identical face as the one that harmed you. They were the same, but also not. He was gentle, but he was not.

The one that hurt you was long disposed of and would never harm you again, but Dottore was once the one that hurt you, and now he has poured himself out before you, all for your pleasure and the sweet poison of safety and love.

He hopes to convey it to you through each meticulously put bite, every sip he graces your lips with. He had cut himself open for you and would do so again, just as he hurt you through that error. It came as easy as drinking and breathing. 

“That’s understandable. I assure you are safe, and however dark the night may get - I'll be there with you… But for now, you must eat, not fear. Open wide..”

Ⓒ n0tamused. Do not repost, translate, edit, and/or copy any of my works. Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated.

[gortash-did-nothing-wrong]

Feral 2

Minors Do Not Interact!!!

Warnings: brief mentions of arranged marriage, threats of harming an animal (it's a joke but the reader takes it seriously), and several references to slavery

The silly little cat fic is getting a sequel because someone commented that Feyd not liking Friz would make him Friz's favorite person.

"Get him." Feyd said firmly.

Y/N snorted out a laugh. Ever since the wedding she had gotten very comfortable around him. He liked that. He wasn't a fan of a certain flea bag getting that comfortable though.

Friz had a new habit. A habit that annoyed Feyd to no end. Anytime Feyd sat down somewhere, Friz would climb up on the back of the couch or chair, and rub against the back of Feyd's head. Normal he would just ignore the beast until the creature got bored, but with Friz's newfound affections came a fun new fact. Something about the combination of Friz's fur and Feyd's skin created a bit of static. Every damned hair the cat shed stuck to his head like it was glued. Only showering or a lint roller would get it all off. Every damned time he left his rooms he had to triple check himself to make sure he wasn't walking around with cat fur on his head. Y/N was admittedly helpful about the situation, often going over him with a lint roller before he left.

Friz seemed to have an endless supply of fur that fell off of him at the slightest touch. The beast didn't seem to have much fur when you looked at him, but it was a cowardly deception. Y/N had taken an undercoat brush to Friz while Feyd watched, horrified at the amount of fur that kept getting brushed off of him. It was never ending. And after Y/N was done, a giant clump of furballs next to her to prove she'd done it, Friz looked no different. And still she'd on the couch that evening during his nap time.

"The maids scramble about to keep this place as fur free as possible." Y/N explained to him, throwing the fur into the incinerator. "I've no idea how they do it, I think they use some sort of hand rake that works kind of like the undercoat brush."

"Remind me to increase their rations." Feyd grumbled.

Which brought Feyd back to his current predicament. Friz was standing in the back of the couch, rubbing against his head like he owned it. Y/N held out her hand, offering pets to Friz.

The tomcat promptly gave her a warning hiss.

"It's out of my control." Y/N said.

"And you're sure we can't shave him?" Feyd pressed.

"He'll get sick. Giedi Prime is already so cold, I can't let him freeze without his coat." Y/N explained.

Feyd opened his mouth to say that wasn't the worst outcome he'd ever heard, but went silent when he felt it. On the back of his head. Something warm, wet, and scratchy. It touched him briefly, then disappeared for a split second before touching him again, and again, and again.

Y/N grinned from ear to ear. "Aw, he's grooming you!"

Feyd growled, crossing his arms in what definitely was not a pout. "I am cleaner than he has ever been."

"You know, cats only groom things they consider to be family. And since you're new to him, and have no hair, he might think you're a kitten!" Y/N giggled. "A poor, cold little kitten with no hair."

A little meow from behind him assured the both of them that not only could Friz understand them somehow, but he was committed to this entire bit.

"I'll toss you to the slave pits." Feyd threatened the cat. "They're usually half starved. They'll tear you to-"

"Feyd." Y/N snapped. "If you speak to him like that again, you'll need to go to your own room tonight."

Feyd took a deep breath, gently reminding himself that his wife wasn't from Giedi Prime, that she was softer than him, that she wasn't going to take kindly to even joking threats. "My apologies. Is there some solution to his shedding I have overlooked?"

"Well, regular baths would help." Y/N said. "Right now I can only manage about one every two weeks, but if I could give him longer bathes where I really get in there and scrub him, it'll knock a lot of fur off."

Feyd narrowed his gaze at Friz as the cat jumped into his lap. "Consider it done."

[just-some-random-blogger]

hello, how are you?, my sandman comics haven't arrived yet, but to calm my heart, could you make a picture where the reader doesn't realize that morpheus changes height when they're dreaming, I heard several people say that morpheus changes height when he's in his dream kingdom, a little (or a lot) of kink in size hahaha, because let's admit morpheu knows how to intimidate when he wants to and knows how to make the reader thirsty for him.

Dream, The Big, Touch Deprived Puppy

Dream of the Endless x Reader

Summary: Sometimes, a man just wants to hold his lover in his hands, literally. Is that so bad?"

Word Count: >500

Warnings: BIG BOI DREAM, dense!dream, gender neutral!reader, fluff, suggestive content, typos, etc.

A/N: HI ANON IM WELL AND EXCITED COS I HAVE TWO (2) REMAINING ASSIGNEMNETS LEFT THEN IM FREE TO DIVULGE IN MY FANTASY WORLDS. Also i've been meaning to read the comics because [foams in the mouth] i *NEED* more dream content. I love your prompt SO MUCH [BARKS] I WANT HIM SO BAD I NEED HIM in light of that, here is amazing fan art i found by umikochannart on twitter Tagging: @deniixlovezelda & @pinksirensong + @shadow-pancake9

"Dream... what are you doing?"

"... nothing."

I nearly break my neck trying to look up at him, "then why are you 10 feet tall?"

"I am not. I am precisely--"

"Dream, love, it's a hyperbole-"

"--which is exactly the perfect size for me to be able to wrap my coat around your whole body and so you can nuzzle your face against my torso."

"..."

"..."

"..."

"You expressed how much you enjoy how big I am, so I thought to divulge you in further in your fantasies."

I choke on my spit, "I- W-"

Dream's face contorts at how my face drains of ever living life. His large hand grabs my tiny face and my heart begins to quicken even more than it already has.

His brow knits at my heartbeat echoing in my ribcage, in the whole of dreaming, in his ears, "my love, does the idea of this scare you?"

My wide eyes looking up at him seems to be enough of an answer when I find nothing to say. My gaze slowly falls as Dream's large form begins to shrink back into his normal height. The shock that shot up my spine at his comment melts into chuckles, but then falls into concern when Dream begins to get even smaller.

"Dream, I'm not-"

"I did not mean to frighten you," he says in a small voice as I lower my gaze on his reducing form.

"I did not anticipate this reaction."

I let out a huff, "Dream."

"Yes?"

"Get back up."

Once Dream is in his normal and notably sullen (even more than usual) state, I chuckle and take my turn to caress his face.

He looks down at me, hands coming to my sides as he presses his forehead on mine, "I apologize, my love. It was not my intenti-"

"Baby boy," I sigh deeply, rubbing his cheeks. "you totes misread me."

Dream pulls away, brows furrowing.

I nibble my lower lip before uttering my response, "I just- I didn't expect the big comment... not when I'm pretty sure I dreamt about how big you are just recently."

Dream gives me a look that screams, bitch-wtf-you-DID-dream-about-it-NO-SHIT-i'm-literally-the-king-of-dreams-MY-NAME-is dream-I-know-you-dreamt-it-WHY-DO-YOU-THINK-I'M-DOING-THIS-IN-THE-FIRST-PLACE?

I giggle at the look, knowing he still hasn't gotten it. I push myself against him and bring myself close enough to whisper like a secret, "how big you feel inside me."

His shifts immediately. His hand forces any space between us when he pulls me flush against him. Dream's lips begin to curl at the sound of the heartbeat.

"See, now you get it," I chuckle softly, biting my lower lip again.

He hums, stealing my lips before saying, "it was my mistake for forgetting how needy my pretty lover is."

My breath hitches when I begin to feel him slip out of my fingers as his form begins to grow. This time around he reaches a size bigger than what he previously was.

"D-Dr- I- am only mortal-"

I squeak when he picks me up and like a ragdoll in his arms.

I look at him as he looks ahead, heading, I knew surely, to the bedroom. I gulp as a genuine nervousness laces my voice, "what if I break in half?"

My stomach drops when he smirks, "but do you not beg me ever so often to do so?"

[rogue-durin-16]

OUT OF TROUBLE

Summary: After a Quidditch match, both George and Y/n sneaked out to grab a drink at the Three Broomsticks with their respective teammates. The tension between the two groups might end up causing more trouble than imagined.

Pairing: George Weasley x Slytherin!Reader

Genre: kinda angsty kinda fluffy

Tags:

George Weasley: @meph1stophelian

Permanent taglist: @elia-the-bibliophile @randomparanoid @karlthecat15722 @thebutchersdaughtersblog @amourtentiaa @just-here-to-escape-from-reality @skarlettmikaelson

Warnings: blood, injuries, violence, concussion, language (?)

A/N: idk what to say apart from the idea of George losing his shit big time won't leave me alone and idek why (blaming it on that scene in the Order of the Phoenix in which George and Harry beat Malfoy the fuck up) so enjoy <3

Rogue-durin-16 masterlist

"Well," McGonagall's severe eyes scrutinized all six of us from the other side of her desk. "who is going to give us" she briefly motioned at Snape, who stood by her side with an unimpressed yet disappointed look on his face. "a proper explanation of why Madam Rosmerta so kindly let us know that not only seven of our seventh year students were on Hogsmeade without permission,"

"But also making a scene and coming to blows." Snape finished, quirking a brow. "Do you know how lucky you are that Madam Rosmerta picked on the fact that you were students?" The potions teacher's eyes fixed on the three Gryffindors before inquiring, "Who started it?"

Silence.

"Merlin's— There is a student in the hospital wing!" McGonagall exclaimed outraged. "You all ought to come clean about this one."

More silence.

"Mister Weasley, you seem to be unusually quiet." The Head of Slytherin pointed out.

"Well, you see, professor," George's head, which had until that moment been resting on his arms over the school desk, was tilted up slightly. "I've got a bit of a headache going on." He motioned at the back of his head, in which a patch of dried blood had glued his hair.

"Weasley, I must insist on you to go see Madam Pomfrey." McGonagall's tone, although remaining severe, softened a bit.

"Nah, 's not that bad." George gave Warrington a side look and forced himself to sit upright.

"I'm going to ask again." Snape spoke. "Who started it?" He weighed the possibilities before inquiring, "Mister Weasley?"

"Why me?!" George flinched at his own shouting.

"Do you want me to believe the state Mister Montague was left in was Miss Spinnet's doing? Miss Bell's, perhaps?" The Gryffindor girls grumbled under their breaths, catching the professor's attention. "What was that?"

"I said why us?" Katie questioned with a tinge of indignation. "Is it because we're Gryffindors?"

"Obviously." Snape spat, earning a roll from Mcgonagall, though she didn't oppose her colleague.

Alicia only laughed humorlessly and folded her arms over her chest.

"We can stay here all night, if you'd like it that way." McGonagall stated after around five minutes of just silence.

"Ugh, fine." George let his head fall in the comfort of his forearms again and groaned, "it was me— I started it. Can we go now?"

"What the hell?!"

"Miss Spinnet!" McGonagall scolded her, stomping her desk.

"Can we go now or not?" George's eyes met my shocked gaze briefly.

"Everyone but you, Mister Weasley." McGonagall stated.

"Wait, no." I tapped my foot nervously against the tiles and took at deep breath. "It wasn't him, it was me."

"Miss Y/l/n!" I refused to meet McGonagall's and Snape's face, so I left my eyes casted down, but I still heard the professors' quiet whispers. "What on Godric's name happened?"

Two Hours Earlier

After a Quidditch victory in Slytherin's favor, some of us had resolved to sneak out of the castle and go celebrate with a drink in Hogsmeade.

Turns out some Gryffindors had had the same idea, though the drink they were having was definitely not a celebration.

"Look who's here," Montague nodded in the Gryffindors direction, purposefully walking in their direction. "You're missing half of the team!" He chuckled, not stopping more than a couple of seconds. "Are they crying on their dorms?"

"Get lost, Montague." Katie Bell spat, earning faces from both Graham and Cassius. Alicia Spinnet flipped us off, and George limited himself to give me a small wave, which I returned with a little smile.

"How's the place this crowed?" Kevin questioned with a frown as we tried and failed to find an empty booth.

"No idea." I replied, taking a look around. "I'll go grab the drinks, you look for a place, yeah?" Cassius nodded and I made my way to the counter; I could feel Bell's and Spinnet's dirty looks on me while I ordered the butter beers.

"Celebrating, are we?" My head turned to meet George's form, leaning on the counter besides me.

"Yup." I shortly answered with a proud grin.

"You're missing your seeker." I rolled my eyes at his comment. "I wonder where he's at."

"You know where he's at." I quirked my brow when he played dumb, a smug smile dancing on his lips. "I'm very aware it was you who sent him to the hospital wing."

"It was actually a bludger." He pointed out, giving Madam Rosmerta the coins for a butter beer.

"Oi, what are you doing?" I attempted to shove his hand away, but there was no use.

"Smoothly buying you a drink?" He winked and I felt blood going up to my cheeks. "Just her drink, though." He added, looking at Rosmerta.

"No you're not— he's not." The owner of the Three Broomsticks gave us a look but ended up accepting my money instead.

"Aw c'mon, Y/n" George pouted while Rosmerta passed me the drinks. "I've just lost an important match, let me have a win?"

"You can buy me the next drink," I resolved, chuckling at the way his expression lighted up. "but only if you don't cause trouble."

"Pfft I'm too depressed to cause trouble." I could tell he wasn't joking, though he still made it sound humorous. "Need help with that?" He motioned at the four drinks I was attempting to grab.

"No she doesn't."

George visibly grimaced at the sight of Cassius but, instead of snapping at him, he only leaned on me and pecked my cheek after saying, "No trouble, see?"

"Piss off, Weasley."

"No need to be that rude." I spat, taking two glasses in my hand.

"No need to consort with the enemy." He responded, picking up the remaining jars.

We approached the spot our Quidditch team had taken and had a surprisingly uneventful good time, until Montague started to run his mouth.

"Look at them, they're so pathetic." He obnoxiously laughed.

"Look at whom?" I questioned, a bit lost in my thoughts to know what he was even talking about.

"Don't play dumb." He hissed. "As if you haven't been staring at that Weasel since we entered."

"Ugh, honestly Graham." I lazily played with my jar. "Can't we just enjoy the drink without focusing on the only three Gryffindors in the room?"

"You're one to talk." Cassius mumbled.

"Meaning?"

"Graham's right, you've been staring at him." I pinched the bridge of my nose. They've done this little number so many times that I was no longer embarrassed. "What was that kiss about?"

"Cassius!"

"What kiss?" Graham inquired.

"He kissed her."

"Oh my gosh—" I threw my head down to my forearms in desperation.

"Ew!" Kevin gagged dramatically. "Did you let a blood traitor kiss you with that filthy mouth?"

"You did not just say that." My tone held a serious warning as I looked up at our keeper.

"Great, he's staring." Cassius grumbled.

"Frankly, he could use a lesson." My eyes widened at Graham's words; at first I thought he was joking, but then he grabbed his wand with a wicked smirk.

"Don't make a bloody number." I whispered. "We'll get in trouble."

"Y/l/n, I'm starting to think you're not on our side."

"Montague, if you earn us detention—" my words were cut off by another statement of his.

"No one's gonna know if we're sneaky enough." I looked at Bletchley and Warrington for some back up but they both seemed to be on board with Montague's plan. "What about a little... cruci—" before he could finish the word, I kicked his chair, making him fall to the floor.

"What's wrong with you?!" I shouted, kicking his wand away after standing up myself.

"Y/n, calm down." Cassius said.

"He was gonna use the Cruciatus, so maybe no?!"

"Careful, Y/n." By then, Montague had already gotten up; Bletchley had to tug him back for him not to go against me. "If you get along with scum, you're scum."

I didn't fully realise that I had slapped him until I heard a few people gasping; all from sudden, I was very aware that I had attracted unwanted attention.

There was a moment of tense silence between Montague and me, quickly followed by him grabbing my hair and hitting my face against the table, too fast for me to do anything about it.

"OI!" Cassius pulled me away from Montague, my hands covering my most likely broken nose, debating on whether to hold it to stop the nosebleed or not touching it to avoid more pain.

GEORGE'S P. O. V.

"They're talking shit." Katie whispered, squinting her eyes at the Slytherins.

"Of course they're talking shit." I responded.

"I'd love to go there and shove those—" Alicia grumbled, tightening the grip on her glass.

"Don't." They both looked at me expectant and I only shrugged. "Y/n asked me not to cause trouble."

Alicia snorted when my eyes travelled to Y/n and Katie mocked me with a silly grin. "Awww, Alicia, he's in love."

"George Weasley is in love" Alicia faked a gag. "With a Slytherin."

"Oh my— you're two shut up." I felt blush creeping up my neck, though I couldn't help the smile twitching up the corners of my lips.

"I mean," Katie shrugged, sharing a look with our friend. "Could be worse."

"Could be Warrington." Before I could respond to Alicia, a loud noise was heard behind me. "Ooooh your princess just kicked Montague." Our chaser commented; we all turned around to look at the Slytherins. "This is gonna be fun."

"Why do I feel like they're talking about us?" I said with a laugh.

"Did... Did she just say 'cruciatus'?" Katie questioned, a tinge of worry in her voice.

"Damn! Okay, time to go." Alicia whispered, getting up right after Y/n had slapped Montague. Katie and I were already following her to the exit when a thud made us stop in our tracks.

"He did not—" Katie started.

"He did." Alicia replied; she was quick to double check on me, but I was quicker to stalk towards Montague. "George no!"

READER'S P. O. V.

I came to the conclusion that we were already in trouble, so I might as well go for it and get Montague back.

Cassius saw that coming and held me back by my forearms, but Graham was being pushed against the table behind him in the blink of an eye.

It took us all aback the way George had stormed in scene; we stood there frozen for a hot second, until Bletchley realised Montague was trying to shake George off in vain while the Gryffindor threw blows at him whilst tackling him to the table.

"George! Stop!" Alicia yelled, coming to stand by my side, unsure of what to do.

"Get off him!" The keeper was the first one to try and remove George from Graham, whose face was starting to look as bloodied as mine. He did succeed for a split second, giving the Slytherin chaser enough room to get back at George.

I shook Cassius off the moment Montague jumped on George to aid the ginger, but before I could do anything, he was punching Graham again, though now he sported a swollen lip himself, along with a cut on his cheek, probably caused by Graham's rings.

This time, when Bletchley tried to shove him off Montague, he ended up with George's elbow digging into his stomach.

"He's gonna kill him!" Bell exclaimed, genuinely worried about the outcome.

"George!" I called his name, hoping it would have an effect, but the beater was too lost on the fight. "Wait— No!!" I tried to grab Cassius' hand when I saw him reaching for one of the heavy jars, but he was quicker to crash it on George's crown.

He hissed, losing balance instantly; his hands went to the back of his head, releasing Montague from his hold. My teammate took the opportunity to kick him off, but before he could try to punch George again, I reached to them, pulling the ginger away and not so accidentally stomping on my Montague in the process.

Just when everything seemed to have calmed down, I noticed Spinnet had thrown herself to Cassius.

Bell was struggling to tug her friend away, Cassius was being pulled back by a mildly hurt Bletchley, Montague was curled up in a ball on the floor and George and I stayed knelt not far from him while I checked his head.

It was only when Madam Rosmerta appeared with a towering, strong employee who managed to separate Spinnet and Warrington that it came to an end.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Graham tried to use the Cruciatus curse on George, professor." I explained without meeting McGonagall's eyes. "And I stopped him."

"He— he what?!" The Head of Gryffindor yelled horrified.

"Miss Y/l/n, did you send Mister Montague to the hospital wing?" Snape questioned wearily.

"That was me." George replied before I could make anything up. "And Warrington broke a glass on my head."

"Spinnet tried to kill me!" Warrington shouted.

"If I had wanted to kill you, you'd be dead!" Alicia yelled back.

"Don't lie to yourself darling!" Bletchley hissed.

"Don't 'darling' her dickhead, I'll jump on you right here!" Bell spat, leaning over her table.

"Shut up, Bell!"

"ENOUGH!" McGonagall shouted. "Fifty points will be substracted from each of you. Your families will be informed of this, and needless to say you won't make any more trips to Hogsmeade."

"Minerva, I think Weasley has earned himself detention for the rest of the year." Snape commented.

"And so did Mister Montague and Miss Y/l/n." She responded. "Now off to sleep, all of you— except from Weasley and Y/l/n, you two go see Madam Pomfrey— no but's, Weasley."

"Yes professor." George sighed, getting up and following me out of the class and into the corridor. "You okay?" His voice was so soft as he fell into step with me that I had to refrain myself from kissing him.

"Nose's probably broken." I shrugged, stealing a look at his crown. "How's your head?"

"Hurts a bit." He was obviously playing it off, but I didn't say a thing about it. "I'm sorry for that little number."

"Nonsense! As if it was your fault Montague's a douche." I reassured him.

"So... you're not mad at me?"

"I'm only mad at the fact that I didn't get to punch him." I replied with a chuckle triggering a smile on his. "Plus," I chewed on my lower lip, hesitating for a moment before adding, "it was kinda hot."

George let out a shocked snort, his whole face redder than mine while words stumbled incoherently out of his mouth, preventing him from forming a coherent sentence.

"Don't do it again, though."

"Uh- yeah— NO- I mean, no- I-I won't— I don't do this often—" I giggled at his stammering and brushed his pinky with my own. He cleared his throat and took the hint, intertwining his fingers with mines. "You know, technically it was you who caused trouble so..."

"So?"

"Can I still buy you a drink?" He sheepishly requested, his thumb drawing circles on the back of my hand while we reached the hospital wing.

"We're banned from Hogsmeade, though." I reminded him.

"Well, I might know a way of getting there without being noticed."

"I'm in then." I stated. "Only if you promise we'll stay out of trouble."

"Can't promise that." He squeezed my hand and let it go when Madam Pomfrey spotted us. "But I'll do my best."

"I'm sure you will." I tugged on his sleeve and placed a kiss on his cheek before following the healer's directions.

[malachi-walker]

Happy birthday, Mal! I love your fics, they evoke so much emotion in me and have made me cry many a time. I don't often reread fics, but i've reread multiple chapters of Rhythm and Blues because they're stuck with me so much. You capture the emotional pain of their trauma and the catharsis that comes with their growth so beautifully. You also write some brilliant meta and just consistently post some fantastic thoughts. Also your love for swords is very appreciated. <3 have a lovely day!

First of all, my apologies for not replying sooner. I was making my mind up about something that would definitely require the use of a read more and thus necessitate dragging myself to desktop (which I hate because my laptop predates the dinosaurs.)

But seriously. Thank you so much. This is honestly one of the sweetest comments I've ever gotten and definitely made my already pretty sweet bday even better.

So about that read more. In honor of you, @metalesbo, my friends @n7punk and @jem-jarrett and everyone else who sent me well wishes or just really loves my work... Here's the opening section of the next chapter of R&B. Enjoy. It's a long one.

Adora Eternia is about two months shy of her fourteenth birthday when she first realizes she's in love with her best friend.

Though--if asked--she would hasten to explain that it wasn't when she fell in love. But trying to pinpoint the exact moment is an exercise in catching mist: the more she tries to grasp it in her hands the more it spreads out and covers everything. It just is: pure and simple and very, very complicated.

It's the beginning of December and the whole town is covered in a thick blanket of snow. Winterfest will be here in a few weeks, so to help out the kids who want to get gifts for their friends the Right Zone administration has shuffled around the groups that usually take their monthly trips on the third and fourth Sundays of the month to double up with the other two. As part of group three, she and Catra got the first week (the other three members of their crew are week two folks anyway and thus outside the reorganization.)

It's still kinda weird to think that: their crew. For so long, it was just Catra and Adora. Adora and Catra. One unit bound together, just them against the world. But there's also something nice about being part of a small cluster, their "scrappy little lone wolf pack" as Catra had once put it with a wry grin before Lonnie shoved her over with an, "Excuse you, I'm a great people person when I'm not busy making sure you idiots haven't set yourselves on fire!"

They all got a good laugh out of that one.

But regardless, the holidays are coming up and this is the first year that any of their group has felt like actually doing anything for it, aside from wrangling together a sleepover and seeing if they can convince the kitchen staff to slip them some leftover eggnog.

They made each other promise not to go too extravagant and keep each person's gift to ten dollars or lower. Even though their quarterly stipend has increased from three hundred to four hundred to match with inflation over the past eight years, it still isn't a whole lot for three month's worth of expenses, especially when they also have to budget regularly for clothes to keep up with the seemingly endless growth spurts.

There's also the usual budgetary concern of keeping her and Catra's first aid kit well supplied...

Adora shakes her head to dislodge the intrusive thought and continues marching onward through the snow. This trip is a good thing. She won't let all the awful realities of their life taint it.

With so many kids running around and wanting to shop on their own to surprise their giftees, Right Zone had to negotiate with both the local police and whatever other civic authorities they could get ahold of to come out en masse and keep an eye on them all. The kids had still come with their usual teachers, of course, but doubling the load and also splitting up was a logistical nightmare. Which is just a convoluted way to say the town is positively crawling with uniformed officers, off duty members of the fire brigade, emergency personnel, and other such authority figures quietly keeping watch and making sure no one tries anything.

Adora knows that somewhere in the press of bodies, Grizzlor's busy wrangling two new "brats" (seven and nine, respectively, and definitely not friends.) Somewhere, a certain Magicat is probably grumbling over the indignity of being forced to wear shoes and kicking every snowpile she can, like she can send a direct message to whatever cosmic force is responsible for her current frustration.

On an ordinary month she and Catra--being old enough to be allowed a bit more freedom to do what they want--would buddy up to watch each other's backs while they did their shopping. But this isn't an ordinary month, so once they'd each gotten gifts for the other three they'd split up on opposite ends of Main Street with an agreement to move clockwise to avoid running into each other. Afterwards, the entire group would rendezvous at the small clock tower in the park a block over before heading back to Right Zone.

Ten dollars wasn't a lot to work with, but Adora had done her best: a new stress ball for Kyle, some moisturizing oil for Rogelio since the early winter shed had wiped out his supply and he'd been too busy to pick up some more, a twelve pound kettle weight for Lonnie now that their shared exercise routine was getting a bit too easy for her... Utilitarian choices, to be sure, but she's been paying attention and that has to count for something.

Catra's the difficult one, of course. Partly because Adora doesn't want to just get her something practical, but also because they share nearly everything between them already. About the only thing that is definitively off limits is Catra's guitar, and she's told Adora enough about her time with Tao over the years that Adora wouldn't even ask. Beyond that... Well, there's a reason why most of Adora's day off hoodies have small strands of orange fur stuck to them.

Still. I want to get her something that's hers. Something she'll like. Something she doesn't have to share with anyone, not even me.

In the end, she nearly walks past it. In one of the artisanal shops that dot small towns like liver spots, she finds a display of hand stamped necklace pendants, with a design sheet beside it. There are a lot of the usual nature designs and such, but the one that catches her eye is a treble clef with the five staff lines bleeding out from it. They ring the edge of the pendant in a half circle, and scattered haphazardly along the lines are the other music notes.

The lack of proper order would drive Adora insane. She understands that it's just meant to look pretty, not be an accurate representation of musical notation, but still... She knows her own (broken) brain well enough to know that.

It suits Catra, though.

"Hey," Mismatched eyes looked down at Adora as her head draped backwards over the back of their desk chair, the throbbing behind her left eye threatening to escalate into a migraine. "Guess I don't have to ask how the composing's going."

"It sucks," Adora groused back, sitting up and gesturing Catra over. She jabbed at two particular spots with the half chewed off eraser end of her pencil, two hard jabs each, like she was filing a complaint. "Most of it is just what I'm going for, but these two places here... They aren't sounding right. I've been going back and forth over structure all afternoon, but nothing I do helps."

"Hmmm..." Catra stroked her chin and nudged Adora over so she could sit on the arm of the chair (they'd never gotten around to requesting a second, mostly because Adora didn't want to risk Shadow Weaver suspecting they were getting too chummy.) "Got any scratch paper?"

Adora pointed to the pile of half crumpled notebook paper she used when making adjustments and Catra snorted. "Ok, dumb question. Just let me see here..."

Grabbing a pen, she quickly inked a fresh set of staff lines and copied the notes Adora had already put down, making sure to leave space to work. Glancing between the two, she drummed her fingers on the desk, playing along in her head.

"Hmm..." Catra murmured, worrying at her lower lip with a fang in a manner that was... Oddly distracting. "Ok, how 'bout this?"

Adora jolted, tearing her gaze from Catra's face to look at the sequence of notes scribbled onto the scratch paper. She paused, brow furrowing as she played them over in her mind's eye. It was a little unorthodox, veering away from the path she had carefully laid out... But also blending well with the next part. Almost like the notes took a quick detour and then lead the listener back to where she wanted them.

"Yeah..." Adora replied thoughtfully, the tension all over her body starting to smooth out. "Yeah, that could work."

"Awesome. Let's take a look at the next part."

They ultimately ended up spending several hours going over the entire piece, sussing out every place where Adora was having even the slightest niggle of unease. She didn't accept all of Catra's changes and Catra didn't push the matter, but the ones she did...

They felt right. More right than they had ever felt when it was just Adora running circles around herself.

When they finally finished up she looked over at Catra, tail waving sedately in that way it got when she was simultaneously engaged but relaxed, and asked, "Umm... Do you want to learn with me? I like doing this."

'I like making music with you.'

Catra paused, looking over at Adora searchingly, almost like she couldn't believe the question had come up. No matter how many years had passed between them, that look never really went away, and every time she saw it Adora's chest ached in a way that was hard for her to process.

"I'd like that."

Catra's composing style is very different from Adora's. More wild, more willing to bend and break the rules if it means maintaining audience engagement, but there's always an underlying order to the chaos. To her surprise and pleasure, Adora found herself learning just as much from Catra as Catra was learning from her. Their styles brought out the best in each other.

The jingle of a bell kicks her out of the memory. Mind made up even though it's nearly double her budget, Adora scans the stand of necklaces for the one with the treble clef pattern.

It isn't there. Adora swallows down the disappointment, though she can't help the sigh. Of course. The town was well aware of the large population of music students a short drive away and catered to them accordingly. But there are also dozens of kids out on the street tonight. It isn't that big of a surprise that the design sold out.

Not surprising, but disheartening nonetheless.

She's just begun to turn away when a voice calls from the back. "Hang on a sec there, little miss."

Adora jumps, but remains where she is as a large Taurian man with a massive snow white beard trundles out from a door behind the counter, wiping his hands on his apron. "Was there a particular design you were interested in?"

Adora points at the treble clef, hope rising. "This one. But it looks like it's already sold out."

"Hmm..." The man scratchs at his chin. "Well with Winterfest coming up, I'm out of blank pendants-"

Adora's shoulders slump.

"-But," The man continues with a smile. "I can double stamp it onto the back of another. Ordinarily I'd charge extra for that, but it's my fault for not ordering enough blanks. Rookie move. Besides, it's the holidays. Now would that be all right by you?"

Nodding frantically in case he changes his mind, Adora scans the other designs, quickly alighting on one in particular. "That one!"

"The claw marks? Bit of an odd combination, but the customer is always right," The old man winked as he reached out to take the necklace from her. "My jig and press is in the corner over here if you wanna watch."

Adora was glad he specified, because as nice as the man seemed there was no way in hell she was going into a back room with a stranger. But she stood next to the window beside a display of miscellaneous knick knacks and puzzles, watching him carefully place the pendant in a cushioned stand to avoid damaging the already printed side and tighten it into place before moving beside the machine.

"You're gonna want to cover your ears," He tells her, patting the machine with one massive hand. "Had to switch to a steam press when the arthritis caught up to me. Used to do it all by hammer. This boy's okay, but he gets loud."

Adora nods, glad for the warning when he bellows "Clear!" and the machine's hammer comes down once, twice, three times with a sound like the ringing of an enormous bell. Once the machine is stopped and carefully turned off, the old man removes the pendant from the press and hands it over to Adora for inspection. "What do you think? Does it pass muster?"

Adora runs her fingertips over the impressions in the metal, memorizing the feel of it, the leftover warmth of the impact. "Perfect."

"Good. Now let's get you rung up."

Counting the five dollars she attempted to surreptitiously slip into the tip jar (the old man winked as he turned back around, so stealth fail) Adora went very over budget, but the others would have to put a gun to her head for her to admit it.

Besides, it's Catra. They already know she's the sole exception to all of Adora's carefully maintained rules.

With everything finished, she continues trudging through the snow toward the park, breathing a sign of relief as she moves away from the shopping district and the people thin out; no one wanting to go to the park in the middle of such bleak weather. Angling around a clustered group of bare trees, she spots the small clock tower in the distance, as well as the figure already standing beside it. Grinning, Adora picks up the pace a bit until she can see Catra clearly and--

Her breath catches.

Since her only experience with this kind of thing has been through books, Adora always expected this moment would be more dramatic. Like back to back in the middle of a fight, or eyes locking from up on stage. Something spectacular, like fireworks, lime explosions, like the feeling of playing a song without a single mistake for the first time. It's always seemed like such a big deal in the stories, and in a way, it is.

Because there's Catra, lost in her own world as she gazes up at the streetlight that's just come on, her left hand extended to let the snowflakes fall into her palm and the light catches the orange of her fur just right to make a blaze of color against the black of her coat. She looks so small, standing in that space all alone on a cold winter's night, but Adora knows deep down that she could never be that small, not when she's Catra, not when she means so much...

Pretty much everything about the past hour--about her entire life since they met if she's being honest--snaps into crystal clear focus.

Oh. I get it now. I'm in love with you.

It's a bad idea. Adora knows that. Shadow Weaver is enough of a menace while believing Catra is simply her roommate, her sometime tool--and Catra had ended up being all too right about the torture not stopping, even after years of Adora trying to direct Weaver's attentions away from her. If the evil old bitch figures out Adora's feelings run deeper, so much deeper...

Her heart beats double time. This whole thing is an unmitigated disaster.

But it's still the best worst thing that's ever happened to her.

She must make a noise, because Catra's ear twitches in her direction, snapping her out of that distant contemplation. She turns her head and looks at Adora, lips curling in a lopsided grin. "Hey, Adora. Wow, you look like you've seen a ghost."

Adora blinks, coming back to herself and mumbling the first excuse that springs to mind. "... Just cold."

"Well no shit. C'mere."

When she closes the distance Catra glances around warily, making sure they're the only ones around, before reaching up and retying the scarf around Adora's neck, patting it once when she's done. "There. I know I make it look good, but you don't have the advantage of fur like me."

Adora looks down at the thin AC/DC t-shirt that Catra's wearing beneath her half open coat, the line of her collarbones and neck, and makes a snap decision. "Is it okay if I give you your present now?"

Catra blinks, a little thrown by the non sequitur. "I mean... Sure? Do you want me to give you yours?"

"I'm good with either," Adora shrugs, trying to ignore how fast her heart is beating, how much she wants to do this before this moment slips away. "I just want to."

There's a long moment of silence as they each examine the other, equally searching. What Catra's looking for, Adora doesn't know. She isn't sure she wants to know.

"Okay."

Breathing deep, Adora reaches into her pocket and pulls out the necklace on its leather cord. Careful to keep the pendant hidden in her hand, she passes it over, fingertips sparking as it's taken. Catra brings it close to her face, running her fingers over the four parallel slashes on the side facing her.

"Why the claw marks?"

Adora laughs, nervous butterflies positively rioting in her stomach. "Because you're a badass. Duh."

"True," Catra smirks, flipping it over and squinting at the other side. "And this?"

"Badass, loves music with all your heart. Not mutually exclusive concepts," Adora says, trying not to give away how much she thinks about this, how much she wants to take that hand in hers. She settles for a playful shoulder bump instead. "Plus we all know you're secretly a big softie."

"Excuse you, I am all sharp edges," Catra giggles, lightly elbowing her before transitioning into a soft little smile. "... Just not with everyone."

Oh God oh God oh God. That smile will absolutely be the death of her.

Swallowing past her horrible awareness of that softness, Adora asks, "So you like it?"

"I love it. Good luck ever getting me to take it off," Catra laughs, then frowns, flexing her fingers. "Hands have gone a little numb, though. Help me put it on?"

Adora.exe promptly crashes to desktop. But she still somehow manages to move, helping Catra hold back her mane so she can slip the leather cord over her head and tuck it beneath her hair. If she hesitates a moment too long in letting go, at least Catra only shoots her an amused glance. "How's it look?"

"Great," Adora manages to croak out, trying to swallow past the sudden dryness in her throat. "You look great. Umm... Happy early Winterfest, I guess?"

"Well, I'm gonna hold onto yours a little longer," Catra laughs, playfully sticking out her tongue before reaching out. "C'mere, you big dork."

Adora shuffles closer, mind and heart both screaming as Catra draws her into a hug, nuzzling her head against the side of her neck. A little whisper. "Thank you."

Adora swallows again, even harder. "You're welcome."

Between them, the necklace rests, the music side pressed right up against Catra's heart.

----------

Fun fact: the shopkeep is based off a cool old dude selling machine pressed necklaces I ran into at a Scottish festival when I was 13, and he made such an impression I never forgot him. Anyway, happy Valentine's! Have a Big Gay Realization!

[xxisxxisxxis]

Gateway Drug | Part Thirty-Eight

Table of Content or Part Thirty-Seven

Read here on wattpad

A/N: Question — what song do you think of when you think of Nikki and Viv? I'm trying to see something

Word count: 3.3k

Warning(s): Explicit language, Sexual situations, Drug abuse

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My bare feet hook underneath his thighs the second I realize he's about to  finish and he gives a crooked smirk up at me, his breathing beginning to shallow.

Nikki holds my hips still, groaning out as his cum coats the inside of me, causing me to let out a hazey moan, my mind cloudy from our rather lengthy round.

Once he's finished, I'm getting off of him and falling beside him, catching my breath as we recover is silence fore several minutes.

"Are you on birth control or something?" He asks me out of nowhere and I tense up, looking at him.

"Why're you asking?"

"I've been thinking about it since Vince and Sharise had Skylar, for some reason. I mean, I haven't used a rubber since we started dating and most of the time I don't pull out, and we've only had one pregnancy scare in the past, what, like, four years?"

"You've managed to keep track of how long we've been together?" I ask him, pretending to be shocked and he gently hits my arm with the back of his hand, and I chuckle, rolling over to face him, my lips pressing to his bicep for a moment.

I think I'm in the clear, dodging his question, but I'm not.

"I'm being serious, Viv, are you on something or...?" He asks and I lick my lips.

"Maybe my antidepressant affects fertility, I don't know." I shrug, lying through my teeth. "Drugs can cause issues on your end, too, so maybe that's another reason."

"Oh." He replies.

I avoid looking at him, sitting up, swinging my legs over the side of the bed before reaching down to grab his shirt by my feet.

You know those lies, that start simple and small, and then snowball more and more over time and explode in flames from hell that melt the snow and turn it into scalding hot water that leaves third-degree burns on the person that's being lied to? Yeah, we both had lots of those, and that was one of mine.

I

take a shower and brush my teeth, excited for my plans tonight, and as I start putting makeup up on, Nikki's getting in the shower.

"Are you and Robin going out tonight?" I ask him.

"Uh, yeah. Sparkie's coming, too." He replies and I roll my eyes.

I know they'll go out to a club and hide in the bathroom, shooting up and snorting blow a  majority of the time, only leaving to get some drinks.

"My doctor was really curious as to why I needed a refill so soon being that he gave me a month supply a week before Sparkie traded it." I comment to remind him Sparkie's a piece of shit.

"Sparkie learned his lesson, baby." He tells me in a half-chuckle and I raise my brows at myself in the mirror and turn the sink on.

"Jesus fuck, Viv!" He screams, being bombarded with ice cold water for a moment.

"Awe, I'm sorry, maybe Sparkie can sympathize with you." I reply smartly.

He's getting out of the shower, covered in suds, glaring at me, and I take off running with him chasing close behind.

"Spoiled brat!" He calls at me, the both of us naked as jaybirds.

"Trader bastard!" I say back, right before he catches me, pulling me against his wet, soapy body, his hands not skipping a moment to start tickling me.

I squeal, the both of us falling to the floor, my feet and legs kicking out of instinct.

"Don't you do it." He threatens. "Remember what happened last time."

"Not my fault you're a pussy." I reply, immediately regretting it when he starts tickling me again, this time, getting on top of me to pin me down.

He doesn't let up until I'm laughing so hard I'm in tears, and he's tired of struggling with me.

We look at each other for a minute, before he grins and kisses me.

"I gotta finish getting ready." He tells me, getting off of me and helping me up.

"Yeah, I do, too."

I decided a nice trip to Malibu would be a great thing for GN'R. I mean, go to Tansy's house there, have her invite over some of her single girl friends to mingle with the guys, stay over night so they don't have to worry about whether or not they'd be able to crash at their stripper friends' apartment and sleep on the floor that night, have a nice breakfast together the next morning, and just give Axl and Izzy time to really get to know Tansy, because they haven't hung out with her very much, while Slash, Duff and Steven see her almost more than I do.

I glance around the living room of Tansy's Malibu beach house, seeing beach bunnies all around with perfectly tanned skin, bombshell hair and perfect smiles, then look at Steven and Slash, who seem to be having a pretty good time.

They both look like they're in heaven, girls on either side of them, obviously fans of their work on the Sunset Strip back in L.A.

Izzy took a girl up to the guest bedroom long ago, while Axl's just nursing a bottle of Jack, with a beautiful brunette chattering his ear off while he's pretending not to care about what Tansy's doing as she talks to one of her girl friends across the room.

I do a mental head count, and notice my 6'4 blonde is nowhere to be seen.

Maybe he found a girl or two of his own and followed in Izzy's footsteps, taking over a spare room?

I brush it off, deciding it's none of my business and step to the kitchen to grab a Pepsi out of the fridge. 

When I pass by the doors that lead to the balcony over looking the ocean, though, I see the outline of someone sitting in the lounge chair. 

Recognizing the slender frame, I grab my soda and head outside, Duff looking over his shoulder to see who I am, before smiling at me innocently, bottle of Vodka by his foot and pack of Marlboros on one knee as a sketch pad and pen are being supported by his other.

"Hi." I say as he scoots over to make room for me. "Mr. Social Butterfly." I add, sarcastically.

"Hey." He replies, moving his Vodka over so I won't knock it down with my foot.

"I figured you be eating that up." I motion to the door, referring to the gorgeous girls inside and he chuckles a little.

"I don't know, I haven't really been feeling chicks lately." He tells me and I furrow my brows a little.

"Well, I'm sure she has some boy friends, too, if you're feeling something different." I inform him, knowing what he meant, but he laughs and shakes his head.

"Not like that, Viv." He tells me and I pull my red hair behind my shoulders to get it out of my face, before taking a sip of my drink. "I've been, uh, working on something new, kinda. The lyrics have been going off left and right in my head, I just thought I'd better get somewhere quiet and write them down before I lose them." He explains, holding up his notepad.

"Oh, I'm sorry." I feel like I've intruded, or messed up his groove, about to leave him alone to finish but he puts his hand on my knee to stop me from standing up.

"No, no, it's fine." He insists, taking his hand off of me, not thinking anything of it, despite me feeling warmth radiate from where he touched me.

I ignore it.

"I've already gotten everything I had in mind, so far." He explains. "Just a verse and chorus."

"What's the name of it?" I ask, and he scratches the back of his neck.

"I don't know if I need to tell you. I'm superstitious about this stuff, Viv." He tells me, even though he's completely full of shit.

He just wants to aggravate me.

"It's just the title, Duff. You let me hear you say 'turn around, bitch, I gotta use for you' and this can't be worse than that." I point out and he chuckles, licking his lips before looking at me.

His hand covers the lyrics, exposing the title line of the page.

"Paradise City" is scribbled in his writing and I smile when he moves his hand and let's me read  the chorus, and verse that he's gotten so far, a giant smile pulling at my lips.

"Who the hell inspired this?" I ask him, raising my brows.

"Nobody particular." He shrugs. "You like it?"

"I already love it." I tell him.

Not to compare two completely different bands who earned their names all on their own, but there are a few song parallels between Guns N' Rose's Appetite for Destruction, and Mötley Crüe's Girls, Girls, Girls albums.

Guns' Welcome to the Jungle was like Mötley's Wild Side. Paradise City was like Girls, Girls, Girls. Mr. Brownstone was like Dancing on Glass. But my favorite parallel has to be Sweet Child O Mine and You're All I Need.

I remember Nikki had given me a tape of You're All I Need after we got into a massive argument because he thought I was spending too much time with Duff. But he had practically accused me of having feelings for Duff, and even acting on them (which was pretty hypocritical being that he'd been screwing Vanity since 1986 at that point.)

A few weeks later, Nikki convinced me to come down to the studio so he could personally give me a copy of a song he had written me, and me--being excited--decided I wanted the guys to hear it, too.

I went to the Franklin Plaza where Steven, Duff, Slash, Izzy and Axl were hanging out, discussing a meeting they'd had with their label.

When I told them Nikki wrote a love song about me (thinking it was his way of trying to patch up our marriage and say to the world "I love this woman") the guys had to hear it, not believing me.

The ballad started beautifully, tears coming to my eyes, but my warmed heart quickly began boiling in my chest by the time the second chorus ended.

"I don't think this is a love song." Izzy stated, while shaking his head a little.

"Yeah, uh...he's talking about killing you." Axl had told me, everyone seemed slightly disturbed.

"Your girlfriends get Sweet Child O Mine and what does the dedicated wife that has done nothing but love this sick bastard get?! A song dedicated to his deep desire to murder me!"

"Dude, hasn't he actually tried to kill you before?" Steven asked.

Which made the song even more ironic, along with the last line of the chorus, "and I loved you but you didn't love me" which in itself was slap in the fucking face.

I didn't hear the full song at that time because Duff had took it out of the player and stomped it under his cowboy boot.

That pretty much set the tone for the months to come.

"You're also incredibly biased." He replies in the same tone and I nudge him with my elbow.

"You don't know how many songs I have actually had to tear out of Nikki's hand and hide them from him because they were so bad I just could not allow them to be recorded." I tell him.

"Oh, please." He brushes me off.

"Have you heard 'Theater of Pain'?" I ask him with raised brows.

"Yeah."

"Home Sweet Home and Smokin' in the Boy's Room were the only really good ones. And Smokin' in the Boy's Room was a cover. The other songs were songs I didn't know were written, or I would have hid them from him, too." I state and he tries not to laugh, but fails, making himself snort, which kickstarts my laughter. 

Once we settle down, he clears his throat, and gets a kind of serious expression on his face.

"I really wish he wasn't on that shit, Viv." He tells me and I don't even have to ask who he's talking about. "I mean, I'm not judging him or whatever because Izzy and Slash are in on that stuff, too, but...I just hate to see he's on it, because it's kinda hard to manage it once you hit a certain point, ya know?" He asks and I nod a little. "I think he's a pretty cool guy...so it sucks to see him act like that."

"It's not that bad, right now." I tell him, completely in denial. "He's still Nikki, he just does stuff he's not suppose to. That's nothing new to me."

"I'm just a little worried, is all." He admits.

"There's no need to be." I reassure him. "He's got a handle on things."

Dear God did I eat those words a week later in Dallas, Texas.

It's like watching a fucking car accident. 

Except instead of a car, it's my husband, and instead of a car accident, it's him losing his ever loving mind, crouched on the hotel room desk, as he babbles on, making absolutely no sense as he shouts at his parents who aren't even present.

I just came back from the pool, got a shower, and came in to him doing this.

"Nikki!" I try to get him out of whatever drug-induced show he's on.

"I'm not me! I'm not Nikki! I'm someone else!" He insists, hands yanking at his hair, his eyes completely taken over by an entirely different beast. 

I panic, immediately calling Fred.

"The fuck is wrong?!" He asks when I open the door, hearing Nikki's screaming and carrying on and I try to keep the absolute fear that's locking up my system from showing.

"I-I don't know. I got in from the pool and he was kinda jittery but I thought he'd done some blow, but then he started screaming when I was in the shower and now he's--"

Fred gets tired of hearing Nikki's meaningless shrieks at people who aren't in the room with us, and snatches him off the desk.

Nikki hits the floor, and a switch is flipped, sending him into strong convulsions, opting thick, white foam to pour from his mouth.

"Fuck, Sixx!" Fred lets out, turning him on his side. "Get me a roll of toilet-paper." He barks at me and I do as I'm told, saying a very colorful, silent prayer in my head. 

He tries to get Nikki to bite down on it to keep him from biting his tongue, but Nikki can't do it. screaming instead.

When I think I can't take the confused, scared, out-of-character shrill, it's like God himself knocks Nikki out, leaving Fred and I in complete silence, riddled with what just happened.

Fred checks his pulse and sighs in relief, looking at me.

"Viv, are you alright?" He asks me, taking deep breaths.

"Y-yeah." I say, nodding, even though I know it's written all over my face that I can't be further from "alright."

"Vivian--"

"I just need a second." I tell him, standing up to go to the bathroom, disguising oncoming tears in a strong, steady voice that's physically uncomfortable to push past the lump in my throat.

I lock myself inside the bathroom and turn the water back on, gripping the counter before I find myself in the floor, quiet sobs rocking through me.

I just want my Nikki back...not this tainted demon nesting himself in Nikki's skin, festering his bullshit in Nikki's mind.

By the time I'm worn down from crying, and tired from lying on the bathroom floor, I pull myself up and open the bathroom door, stepping into the room.

I guess Fred put Nikki in the bed before he left, because Nikki's still passed out, just tucked in the covers. 

I get pajamas on, scared to even touch him because I don't want him to start seizing again.

Cautiously getting closer to him, nestling my forehead against his arm, I thank God for the feeling of his pulse under my finger tips in the crook of his arm, and find myself passing out with utter exhaustion.

The next morning, Nikki's really quiet.

I'm not sure if he remembers what happened last night, but I'm not asking him. 

After finding a needle and evidence of an 8-ball of coke, he can lick my twat if he thinks I'm talking to him anytime soon. 

The video shoot for Home Sweet Home is happening today, and a limo picks Nikki and I up at the hotel, driving us to the venue, neither of us acknowledging the other. 

Once we get there, someone's dressing Nikki like a damn toddler, because he's too fucked from last night to dress himself in his done up stage costume.

Nikki was so, so, so, obviously, utterly fucked up when they filmed the music video for Home Sweet Home. 

The entire time, he was chugging Jack to try to calm himself down from a high he later described felt like, "being on acid and speed at the same time" and with the way he was acting like he couldn't see a damn thing, I believe it. 

He kept sunglasses on a majority of the time so people couldn't see how his eye were practically doing cartwheels. 

"Viv, we're about to start, where's Nikki?" His bass tech asks me and I glance around, furrowing my brows a little.

"I haven't seen in him about an hour. He went over there by the stage...at least I think he did." I tell him, stepping over to the last place I saw him. "He was here and..." I trail off, hearing Nikki having a full blown conversation, his voice coming from underneath the stage.

The two of us sit and listen for a moment, realizing Nikki's just talking, taking long pauses, then answering a question that was never asked by anybody, not even himself.

"Who is he talking to?" His tech asks me under his breath so Nikki won't hear.

I roll my jaw, getting fed up.

"Probably the fucking demon he sees and befriends every time he gets high." I state, fully believing that at this point, there is indeed a demon following him around, breathing down his neck, stripping him of his control and cheering him on with each grain of coke, bottle of Jack, cc of heroin and prescription-grade pill.

"Nikki," His tech starts. "Who're you talking to?"

"I'm talking. Leave me alone." Nikki argues.

"Nikki." I state, looking at him. 

It's the first time he's heard my voice all day.

"There's nobody there, baby. C'mon." I motion my hand for him to get out from under the stage.

"Leave me alone!" He snaps at me, nearly hissing.

"Dude, calm down, you're freaking out." His tech tells him. 

"Nikki, get your ass out from under there or so help me God, I will come in and drag you out by your dick." I promise him. 

He puffs up like a pissed off rooster and stomps out, passing by us, grumbling under his breath.

Do you wanna know what was really fucked up about that time? Vince couldn't have a beer without someone losing their mind. He was supposed to be sober. Nikki would bust Vince's balls if he even saw him looking at a bottle...but then Nikki would load anything and everything into his body, simultaneously.

Vince quickly became the odd man out, and had been ever since that night with Razzle. There was this vibe, this tension, that Vince was only kept in the band at that time, because they were getting hotter and hotter, and each member was the ticket to reach their full potential as a band. Each member was important.

Without Tommy, there was no band. Without Mick, there was no band. Without Nikki, there was no band.

And without Vince, there was no band...that was the one that really didn't sit too well with Sikki.

[katedrakeohd]

A Choices: The Royal Masquerade Fanfiction

Pairings :(MC) Julia Aster x Renza Fierro,

Julia Aster x Kaydan Vescovi

Author's Note: As I transferred this story from writen page to digital it occurred to me just how long it was becoming so I've had to break it up into several parts.

...........................

Part One:

A State of Undress

The morning is sunny and warm on the day of our cruise on the Fierro yacht. I’m standing outside in my courtyard with my steward Vasco waiting for Renza’s carriage to come pick me up. As I smooth my hands down over my corset and skirts for the hundredth time, Vasco notices my nervousness and smiles.

“I suppose this will be your first time on a sailing ship M’lady,” he says.

“Yes, it will.” I nod.

“I’ve heard that Lord Hector is a very honourable man. Are you anxious to meet him?”

To tell the truth I’ve barely thought of him at all today. And it’s not Hector or the boat trip that have me feeling anxious. Since we’ll be with the Fierros, that means Kaydan the Crown Shield will be around too. And these days he has occupied my thoughts more than anything.

“I’m hoping Lord Hector isn’t as dull and strange as Lord Emery is. Such a disaster that dinner was. If it weren’t for Henry rescuing me with a new plate of dinner after Cyrus and Emery left the table I would have starved to death.”

My pet wolf cub Astro scampers around the courtyard threatening to trample the flowers. His antics have stolen Vasco’s attention and my comments go unanswered. I shrug and go back to my own thoughts.

Ever since I met Kaydan Vescovi the night of the masquerade, I haven't been able to get him off my mind. Just being around him with his dark eyes, wavy black hair and strong muscled physique is enough to make even the most sober person feel a little intoxicated. When he smiles at you and gives you his full attention it's like nothing else matters. I consider myself a lucky woman to have had the chance to spend so much time with him these past few weeks. As the Crown Shield wherever King-regent Henry Fierro goes, Kaydan isn't far behind. Between both handsome men being around lately it's like receiving two beautiful presents for your birthday when you're only expecting one.

During the joust when Kaydan and Henry both sought my favor, it was such a thrill. But when the swords came out after they had both been knocked off their horses, I realized that the rivalry goes much deeper. Fortunately the duel ended without anyone getting seriously injured. I know they're friends and I would hate to see them ruin that because of me. But still I must admit seeing Kaydan win was exciting.

In the stables after the joust Kaydan told me that it had been fun to fight Henry in front of the crowd. Being able to knock his half-brother Cyrus down a peg anonymously as the Black Knight had also been satisfying for him. His victory takes the title of Champion of the Tournament of Flowers out of noble hands. I enjoyed cheering with the other spectators, even if I was the only one hoping for Kaydan to win.

Henry is all sunshine, winks and flirty smiles. There's no wonder all the single ladies at court clamor for his attention. There's no mystery to him and he wears his heart on his sleeve. He radiates a perfect example of wealth and privilege. When I'm around him I’m polite and friendly. He's given me no reason to doubt his intentions as Crown Regent are genuine. But for me all I feel is loyalty not affection.

Kaydan is all long looks, secret smiles and quiet respect. Although he was born of nobility, he's not considered one of them. He's accepted his place as the bastard son and chose a life of hardship and responsibility in the guard.

Henry may have his name and noble house to hold him up, but it's Kaydan's humble strength and sense of duty that protects him. I admire Kaydan for that, although he won't accept the title of hero no matter how often he's earned it. There's more to Kaydan than his imposing presence. I'm drawn to him in a way that goes beyond the physical, and I’m determined to know him better.

He's worked his way up through the ranks to become Crown Shield, and earned the respect of many along the way. I've sought out his expertise in matters of security, and he's always seemed pleased to have my company. Sometimes when we're alone we comfortably lapse into conversation and he lets down his guard a bit.

In the short time we've known each other we've developed a mutual respect and kinship. When we're alone I'm just Julia the scribe, and he's just Kaydan the black sheep and we're comfortable with that.

I hear Renza's carriage approaching and take a deep breath to prepare myself to be in her company. She's as brash and confident as her brother is charming and sweet. I never know what she's going to say or do when we're together.

Vasco steps forward to open the door of the carriage for me, “Are you entirely sure you don't want me to travel with you your Ladyship? There's room for one more in the carriage.”

As I take his offered hand to assist me up into the carriage, I smile and shake my head. “I'll be fine with Renza. Please make sure that Astro is fed and properly put away for me, and then join us at the marina later for the trip.”

Vasco nods, bowing to me, “As you wish.”

Tucking my skirts around my legs I settle down on the seat opposite Renza. Once Vasco has closed the door behind me, Renza looks me over critically from head to toe and then shrugs.

“Well good morning to you too,” I jest.

“My dear Julia, please tell me you don't expect to impress Lord Hector wearing that?”

I can't help but take offense to her remark since I am wearing a gown in the rich tones of blue and gold that represent my noble house. The House of Aster. I’m not sure if her jab is an intentional insult to my house or my sense of style, so I try my stoic best to deflect it as irrelevant.

“Honestly Renza. If I must marry someone for the sake of politics, what does it matter what pretty wrapper I am presented in?”

It's not like I'm that excited to be offered up to Hector as some sort of trophy wife.

“You may say that now, but you don't need to sound so bored and dismissive about the prospect of a match.”

“I'm sorry, I don't mean to sound that way. I'm just distracted. My poor sister has still not awakened, and suddenly becoming the head of my household is overwhelming. I've barely had the chance to figure out what that even means, and now I am expected to marry myself to a total stranger to support the Crown. Whatever happened to falling in love and getting married. That's what I really wish I could do.”

Renza laughs, “Oh you're such a Romantic. Don’t forget that you're a noble now. Marriage for nobles is a contract with obligations, land titles and bank accounts. Romance is for affairs outside of marriage. Why are you so hung up on love and romance anyway? Is there someone you've had your eye on?”

“I…well. I don't want to say. That's between him and I.” I can feel myself blushing.

“Ok fine, but I'll find out one way or the other. I bet a little wine will get you talking.”

Before I can turn her down, Renza has already opened a bottle of red wine and poured me some. It's still morning but apparently Renza feels that drinking wine is appropriate for all hours of the day.

When the carriage turns off of the main road and onto her Manor's private lane one of the wheels bounces over a rock. I gasp in surprise as the wine in my goblet splashes over the front of my dress.

“Oh no! This is a disaster.” I cry.

Renza produces a handkerchief out of the bodice of her gown and offers it to dab at the wine stains.

“Well that's a shame. But look at it this way. Now I’ll have the excuse to put you in a dress suitable to impress the pants off Hector and your secret lover.”

I hand her back her handkerchief, shaking my head. “We're hardly lovers.”

“Not yet. You may have been able to charm the minds of men at court so far with your cleverness and wit. But leave it to me and your looks will charm the rest of their…parts.”

I roll my eyes, “Oh please Renza I’ve already gotten my fill of Cyrus and his brand of sleazy charm. I don't want all the men at court to start talking to me that way. I implore you to at least keep some shred of my dignity intact.”

As the carriage comes to a stop, I look out of the window and marvel at the grandeur of the Fierro Estate. Renza escorts me to the dressing room attached to her bedroom to get changed. The opulent furnishings of even this room put most of what I have back home to shame.

Renza wastes no time in helping me get out of my dress. As I stand in my underclothes she gives me another critical inspection and I feel myself blush.

“H..happy now?” I stammer.

Renza's surprised expression takes me off guard, “More like impressed! With a body like that you could make a bedsheet look alluring. I'm almost tempted to send you out like this.”

Crossing my arms across my chest I frown at her, “Renza, seriously. Focus.”

She gives me another critical inspection, making me feel even more uncomfortable.

“Natural beauty aside, whoever tied this corset isn't doing you any favors. Here let me fix it for you.”

I back away, holding up my hands. "No, no. Leave it alone. I like being able to breathe thanks.”

She sighs and then steps away from me again. “As you wish.”

I'm still standing in just my underwear as she continues to talk.

“So are you curious about meeting Hector at all?”

“I'm mostly curious about what kind of person he is.”

“Well professionally all that I can tell you is that he is a trade expert hired by the merchants across Cordonia to help improve their business.”

I try to sound interested, “So he's …business minded.”

Renza scoffs, “Well when you say it that way it makes him sound stuffy. Lord Hector sails the world and visits all sorts of interesting places. Imagine the fascinating stories he could tell."

I nod, "Well then I guess he doesn't sound so stuffy after all."

Renza smiles, looking relieved "Good now let's get you dressed. Stay here while I fetch you something to wear."

She gives me a wink and then leaves me alone. I feel self conscious, exposed and plain in such a fancy room. When I hear the door open suddenly I turn around expecting Renza. But instead it's Kaydan!

"Lady Renza, I found the --... "

He stops short and his eyes go wide when he sees me, "Julia!"

I feel myself blush to the roots of my hair, but as shocking as it is for him to see me in my underwear, I can't help but feel a rush of excitement too. My heart is pounding like crazy in my chest, but I flash him my bravest smile and place my hands on my hips and ask, "Looking for something?"

He's still standing there rooted to the spot and gaping. "I..I wasn't expecting -- .."

"Hmm?" I smirk at him, stepping closer.

He clumsily shuffles backward, trying to avert his eyes from seeing so much of my bare skin.

Renza re-enters the room and gasps, "Crown Shield, what in the world do you think you're doing?"

"But..but.." he stammers, looking at us both.

"Out, out, out! Now!" she shrieks.

He quickly shields his eyes and mumbles his apologies as she pushes him out of the room and closes the door.

"The nerve!" she exhales with relief.

Biting my lip and trying to hide my grin, I giggle. "I hope that he enjoyed that as much as I did."

Her mouth drops open and her eyes sparkle with amusement as she laughs, "Lady Julia Aster, you saucy minx!"

"What? Accidents happen. Besides he knows this is your room so I could ask you questions too."

Renza brushes off my remark and raises her chin giving a haughty retort, "Well this is my house after all. Quit avoiding the issue. Out with it, you like him don't you. And here I thought it might be Henry."

Breathing a sigh of resignation I admit it, "Yes, Kaydan is who I'm interested in. Please don't tell anyone. I know he's not noble."

Renza laughs, "True, he wouldn't improve your social standing as a match, but he's definitely an impressive piece of man to have on the side. If you're saying there's more to him than what's on the surface then I must say congratulations to you both."

I open my mouth to protest that Kaydan is more than just a side piece, but then decide to change the subject. "If I'm to impress Kaydan or Hector today you better give me something to wear."

Renza blinks, remembering the gown she has in her arms. "Of course, where was I?" she hands me the dress. "You're sure to grab attention in this."

As she lays the shimmering blue and white silky and sheer fabric in my arms I am amazed at how light and airy it feels. It's surely worth more than my entire wardrobe.

I stammer as I thank her, "Are..you sure about this? Have you nothing more plain or modest?"

"No, no I insist. Consider it my engagement gift to you. It never fit me properly anyway. Hector won't be able to take his eyes from you."

Or Kaydan either, I thought to myself.

I nod gratefully and step into the dress, "Well thank-you, could you help me fasten the lacing in the back?"

Renza smiles as I turn around. She adjusts and ties the satin lacing a little tighter than necessary, and I find it difficult to breathe. Is she jealous that the dress fits me better, or is she feeling spiteful and wanted Kaydan for herself?

As I turn back around and catch sight of myself in the mirror I can't help but smile.

Behind me I catch Renza's expression and she looks annoyed as she says, "Alright then now that you're wearing a properly fitting garment, let's be off, the carriages await."

...

Continue on here

Tagging:

@gardeningourmet @samihatuli @jovialyouthmusic @sirbeepsalot @dcbbw @mfackenthal @bobasheebaby @pedudley @be-still-my-aching-heart @krishu213 @ibldw-main

[marveloustiming]

Look at the Stars (Part 3/?)

I strode through the doors as they slid open, Peter walking behind me. I found three men standing there. I put my hands out as a man came rushing at me. I blasted two shards of ice at him, one in the leg and in his shooting arm, while Peter got the other one other. I quickly caught a guy that came up from behind Peter, grabbed his chin, and set my hand ablaze. Peter turned his head to me and nodded. He shot a guy that came from the long hallway knocking the man onto his back. As I passed him the man complained about his neck. I stepped on his arm and let out some electricity which knocked him unconscious. Up ahead I saw Peter take the orb and start tossing it up and down. I let out a full laugh. This way the others wouldn't just bail on us. I could hear a quiet echo of a song up ahead. It was Escape by Rupert Holmes. I smiled. He must have been taken from Terra a long while ago. We came up to the cage where Peter got tased and there I could see the blue man with Peter's headphones on, reading my book. One of the few comforting things that I had in my life were in his filthy hands. I could just hear the the electricity crackling at my hands. While Peter went to the side, I placed my hands right on his shoulder and gave him a sharp shock while Peter cracked the man on the side of the head with the orb.

"You have anything to keep you breathing outside?" He asked, glancing at me as we both collected our lost items. "Yep. And I'm assuming that very scary face mask will be helping you breathe?" I asked, a little bit of sarcasm leaking into my voice. "Oh you betcha!" I could hear the the smile in his voice. We walked through the jail and eventually made our way out. I activated my mask and maneuvered my way through space shooting fire out my hands and feet. I hit the ladder right after Peter. Gamora and Drax helped Peter up and then lifted me up right after. These two show spirit! They shall make keen allies in the battle against Ronan. Companions, what were you retrieving?" Peter handed his walkman to Drax while I held my book, said "My old myth book," and walked past him. "Imbeciles." Whether that was directed at me, Peter, Gamora, or all three of us was a mystery to me. While the ship flew I sat next to Rocket, reading and listening to my music while he built something while humming a tune. "Yo Ranger Rick, you can't take apart my ship without asking me! What is this?" Peter yelled. "Don't touch that. Its a bomb." Warned Racket. "A bomb? And you leave it lying around?" "I was gonna put it in a box!" Rocket defended. "Rocket, what the hell is a box going to do?" I jumped in. "Who's side are you on Marris?" Rocket accused. "His because it is his ship after all." I pointed out softly. "Exactly! Thank you Arva!" Peter said. "Oh whatever" and I stopped listening after that, letting my music flow through my head as I pictured all of the epic battles going on in my book. I could barely register the yelling that was going on and the fact that Gamora had walked out of the room.

I felt Peter tap on my shoulder and I looked up to see him jerking his head toward the head of the ship. I sat in the copilot seat while head sat in the front seat. "You seem pretty peaceful for a person that travels with a homicidal raccoon." He said. "I wouldn't say peaceful. I just prefer to stay out of things that could get innocent people, myself, or my friends killed. Plus I can be incredibly oblivious, so that probably doesn't help me." I chose my words carefully, trying not to reveal to much. "Well you seem nice. Rocket and Gamora or just plain rude, Drax is to literal, and the tree is just confusing." Peter admitted. A smile crept onto my face. "You'll get used to Groot. Even though 'I am Groot' is all he says he's actually pretty nice." I said. "How can you even tell what he's saying?" Peter interrupted. I held my hand up onto my knee and willed vines to grow. A small smile rested on my face as he looked at it, awed as the small vines created different patterns. "I am able to control nature. I guess since Groot is a tree as well as a human type figure I can understand him. Anyways I haven't properly gotten to know Gamora or Drax to properly make an assumption. I do know Rocket though. He may come off as an ass but he's a good guy. There is just a lot of pent up emotions inside of him. The sarcasm and rudeness is just a way to hide it. Don't judge him to harshly." I've known him long enough to see a lot of it come to light. All of the pain and hurt that he's contained. As I glanced over I could see I could see him staring at me. I wondered briefly what he was thinking.

"What are your powers? I saw you use fire, ice, nature and electricity but is that all?" Peter asked. "I control the elements, electricity and am able to turn into other animals. I have also been able to expand off of my powers in recent years. Like how I was able to create ice out of water or a force field out of electricity." I explained. I set the tips of my fingers on fire, making little patterns in the air. Peter looked at me like he was confused. "How did you get your powers? That doesn't seem like you would get them naturally." He said, probably already guessing what had happened. "Funnily enough I did get the ability to control nature, well naturally" I said as I looked down at my hands "How I got the rest though doesn't need explaining. Some assholes got curious about what I could do and they picked me up from Terra. They put me through a bunch of experimentation and I eventually got out of it. What happened in there to make me what I am doesn't really matter." He looked surprised at something but before he could say anything Groot and Rocket walked in. Rocket sat in the seat next me while Groot stood behind me. I looked in front of us to see what looked like a giant skull with thousands of lights attached to it. It was beautiful.

"What is it" Drax asked. "It's called Knowhere. The severed head of an ancient celestial being. Be wary heading in. There are no regulations whatsoever here." Gamora said. As we flew inside I could see that hundreds of things were being built inside of the skull. Lights and small mining ships flew around collecting the brain matter of the skull. "Hundreds of years ago the Tivan group sent workers in to mine the organic matter within the skull. Bone, brain tissue, spinal fluid, all rare resources highly valued in black markets across the Galaxy. It's dangerous and illegal work. Suited for outlaws." "Well that all sounds absolutely lovely." I commented. "Well me and Marris come from a planet of outlaws. Billie the kid, Bonnie and Clyde, John Stamos." Peter said, winking at me. All I did was roll my eyes and grin. Those were such old references. "Sounds like a place in which I would like to visit." Drax said. "You should." A few kids came up to us, two going up to Gamora. I clutched the vine that was in my hand when a set of twins came up to me. I grew a flower crown on my head and put it on the girls while I gave a orange tulip to the boy. I smiled at the two before Peter ushered us away. He looked at me and said softly "That was cute." before walking to the head of the group. "Your buyers in there?" Rocket asked Gamora. "We are to wait for his representative." She said as a man was pushed out of the area. "This is no respectable establishment. What do you expect us to do while we wait?" Drax asked, seemingly confused. We all parted ways after that. The barbaric lizard racing that Drax and Rocket seemed to be into just scared me a little bit so I went to look for something else. Eventually I found a small bookshop. I got something called The Darkest Minds by Alexandra Bracken. I smiled and thanked the lady behind the counter before putting my headphones on and walking around to find something else to do.

I found a small balcony on the outskirts of the the skull. I was listening to 'Angela' by The Lumineers when Peter walked up to me. The music was blaring so loud that I didn't hear what he had to say. I laughed softly before saying "Sorry, didn't hear you, could you repeat it?" He gave a smile back before saying "You have headphones." I nodded. "I got them on some random planet a while ago when my last ones broke." I replied. "They aren't connected to anything. Don't you have a cassette player?" I grinned widely. "No they're Bluetooth. They don't need to be connected to anything. And cassette players aren't really around anymore. Now we have tablets and phones." I showed him my tablet with it's old case. "But these are giant! How in the hell are you supposed to carry this?" I chuckled. "You should see all the music it has though! There's something called Spotify that has millions of songs on here! Even songs from the 1980s!" I said excitedly. I never really had someone to talk to about this stuff. Rocket had said he didn't want learn about my 'trash planet' and poor Groot had gotten so startled when he heard the the music that he crushed my tablet. I didn't exactly want to talk to them about it after that. I talked to Peter about what I could do with the device, the main topic being music. He showed me his cassette player and the music he had while I showed him Spotify and the giant playlist I had. The excitement went down a little when he told me how his mom gave gave him the cassette player. "It must be nice, having a part of her with you. My parent ditched me as soon as they found what I could do. You had a parent growing up. That's good." I said.

I was quick to feel confused when I heard yelling outside. Peter and me walked outside to see a crowd forming around a fight. I pushed through only to be stopped by a man. "Hello sweetie." He said in a repulsive tone. I only shoved him harder, sending him into the crowd. I walked into the middle to see Drax on top of Groot punching him repeatedly. I grabbed Drax's arm and dragged him off of Groot. "Stop! Stop it!" I saw out of the corner of my eye Rocket aiming a giant gun at us. "Rocket no! Put that shit down now!" I snarled. "This vermin speaks of affairs he knows nothing about!" Drax yelled. "That is true!" Rocket shouted back. "He has no respect!" Drax shouted again. "That is also true!" " Hold on! Hold on!" Peter shouted at Rocket. I could see Groot get up next to me. "Keep calling me vermin tough guy! You just want to laugh at me like everyone else!" Rocket said. I felt my shoulders go slack at that. He never admitted that to anybody he didn't trust. We always got laughed at the talking raccoon, the giant tree, and the freak girl. We were a shit show. It had always bothered us when people muttered about us. How we could never be normal. And now all of it was coming to light. "Rocket, buddy, no one is laughing at you. I promise." I said in a soft tone, hoping to calm him down. "Don't try to sell me that Arva. You know how people look at us! They see some angry rat, a stupid tree, and a freak girl who can kill them in one second!" He shouted at me. "Rocket you're drunk alright? No one's laughing at you." Peter said. "He thinks I'm some stupid thing! He does! Well I didn't ask to get made! Neither did Arva! We didn't ask to be torn apart and put back together over and over and turned into some little monster!" Rocket yelled. For a moment I saw Peters eyes flick to me before he focused on Rocket again. "Rocket no ones calling you a monster." Peter said. "He called me vermin! And she called me rodent! Let's see if you can laugh after five or six good shots from this!" He shouted, lifting hi gun again and pointing it at Gamora, who had joined a few seconds after me and Peter. I immediately jumped in front of the weapon. "Rocket! Rocket, buddy! Four billion units! Rocket! C'mon man, just suck it up for one more lousy night and then we're rich!" I yelled and slowly but surely he put his weapon down. "Fine. But I can't promise that after all this I'm not gonna kill every last one of them." He said tiredly. "See! That's exactly why none of you have any friends! Five seconds after you meet somebody you're already trying to kill them! Arva seems like the only calm one of you people, and she can probably do the the most damage!" Peter yelled. "We have travelled halfway across the quadrant and Ronan is no closer to being dead." Drax said walking off. "Drax!" I yelled. "Let him go. We don't need him." Gamora told me, right as the door to the area was opened.

[setaflow]

Happy almost one year anniversary to this post you now get to unlock it's backstory.

I freelanced for the USTA's social media team for 2 years, 2019-2020. One year I did on-site in Queens, the other I did remotely. First professional job outta college, long hours but super-nice people and a fun experience.

One of my main jobs was to monitor the US Open social media accounts for explicitly hateful/racist/homophobic comments and hide/delete accordingly. I wasn't allowed to block opinions or things like that, which made my job REALLY annoying when it came to Naomi Osaka in particular (for those who didn't know, she participated in the BLM protests on-court by wearing face masks bearing the names of black victims of police brutality) because everyone in the comments was being horrifically shitty to her. Because she eventually won the tournament in 2020, she made it very very far and was featured on a lot of the USTA's social content, and the comments were always cesspools that needed cleaning out.

Anyway, the men's league presented a different story. To those unfamiliar with tennis, the men's circuit has what's known as "The Big 3"-- Roger Federer, Rafael Nadal, and Novak Djokovic. Since like 2003, they're won something like 80% of Grand Slam tournaments (the four big tennis tournaments: Australian, French, Wimbeldon, US Open), usually jostle each other for the top rank, and they have massive and RAVENOUS fanbases. Of the 3 I personally like Nadal the most cuz he just seems like the most decent of the lot. Any other male player, such as Dominic Thiem, isn't included in this drama and as a result it's sorta a big deal when a player who's not one of the Big 3 wins a grand slam tournament. But here's where things get sticky:

Last year, a bunch of players were dropping out of the tournament due to COVID. The US Open wasn't allowing fans on site and they had very strict COVID protocols to make the tournament happen in the first place, and the social team had several fires we were trying to put out. Furthermore, we had several players who straight up didn't come to play, including 2019's defending champion Nadal. So already we have 2/3's of the Big 3 in the tournament. And then Federer dropped out due to injury. So now we only have Djokovic as the sole representative of the Big 3 for the 2020 US Open and he's obviously the clear favorite. He's doing well until the fourth round, when this happens.

TL:DW-- Djokovic hits a ballwoman in the throat on accident, he gets tossed from the tournament. I saw this happened live, refreshed my computer, and was greeted to 80 new DMs and several pretty graphic death threats. It was a very fun day.

So let me clarify some things:

It's completely up to the judges whether or not Djokovic gets tossed for this, and I can see how it could've gone either way. But the point was less that "it was an accident uwu" and more that "he hit the ball recklessly and in anger and as a result hurt someone regardless of his intentions", and the latter is what ultimately got him tossed. Anyone with eyes can see that.

People were calling this woman out for flopping........but like, have you ever gotten hit in the throat with something going that fast? I have. I used to play goalie in lacrosse and I've been hit in the throat with a lacrosse ball. It fucking hurts. You get the wind knocked straight out of you, you loose all coordination, it's hard to breathe. I don't blame her for collapsing.

So yeah. In one fell swoop, all Big 3 players are out of the tournament, and it's anyone's game now.

Big 3 fans were FUCKING PISSED. Like, holy shit, I'd never seen a group of 45-80 year old white people on Facebook so up in arms about something so meaningless (and I love sports and have gotten riled up for things too, so I know the feeling well). Since all their hopes were hinging on Djokovic and he was doing pretty well up until that point, everyone thought he was unfairly tossed, and took to our social posts to tell us this. I got upwards of 50 DMs about it a day that I had to flush out and ignore. People were doxxing the ballwoman in the comments and accusing her of being an alcoholic/drunk at the match, which was just fucking absurd. Every day was death threats and complaining and "blahblahblahifDjokovicwherestillin--" like omfg shut up you useless fuck go complain to your bridge group or something.

So when Thiem eventually won, ALL THE COMMENTS WERE ABOUT HOW DJOKOVIC OR FEDERER OR NADAL WOULD'VE WON IF HE WERE STILL PLAYING. ALL OF THEM. IT WAS THIEM'S FIRST GRAND SLAM WIN AND ALL OF THEM WERE ABOUT THE BIG FUCKING 3. And ya girl was at the fucking end of her rope and made this shitpost about it the night of because yeah, they all needed to shut up about the Big 3. This wasn't about me being annoyed for a minute; this was about me having to spend 2 weeks sifting through and deleting comments that doxxed and threatened bodily harm against a 75-year-old woman because you think some lanky Serbian jackass was unfairly booted from your precious tennis tournament. And I was fucking sick of listening to people whine about it.

In summary: this post was because a 23-year-old social media freelancer was sick of listening to Big 3 fans complain about Novak Djokovic getting booted and I hope that Djokovic never wins another US Open for the rest of his life. Good fucking riddance.

Me @ every single goddamn person on Twitter, Instagram, or Facebook that can’t just congratulate Dominic Thiem without mentioning how Djokovic, Nadal, or Federer would’ve beaten him had they been playing: