#Riddle likes to put your streams on in the background while he works-

[sincerely-astra]

☁️Twisted Wonderland: Cater x Streamer reader☁️

Hopefully, you aren't too sensitive to camera flashes... The amount of pictures Carter takes of you will make his phone run out of storage.

You don't even have to be popular or anything, he will blow up Magicam with pics of your streams and let everyone know just what a talented partner he has.

His constant posting about your stream actually gains you viewers too-

He tries so hard to stay out of your streams so you can do your thing, but god, does he want to kiss you... :'(

If you let him be in your streams though, Cater will likely just chill in the background, scrolling through Magicam as he just listens to your voice.

If you're playing some kind of horror game, he will have to stifle his giggles any time you get spooked.

Please don't throw your mouse at him-

Cater is the king of after-stream care! He will draw you a bath, get you some food and water, and of course, make your bed ready to collapse in.

After you wind down he'll lay in bed with you, stroking your hair as he tells you how well your stream went and how much he adores you.

He isn't afraid to shower you with stream equipment, he thinks you deserve the absolute best!

He even went to Idia so he could get stuff that wasn't on the market yet. (Idia hated this, Ortho thought it was a great bonding opportunity)

You are gonna have to find a place for all your old equipment though-

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Topsy Turvy Days in Diasomnia

Yes, I intentionally added the thorns in the background for… reasons :)) If you know, then you know—

SORRY FOR GETTING THIS OUT LATE I’VE BEEN TRYING TO WRITE SEBEK’S BROOMQUET FIC ON TOP OF SCREAMING ABOUT THE YEAR III ANNI STREAM 🤡 But with this, my blog event for TWST’s third anniversary comes to a close! Thank you for following me on this week-long writing prompt~

The Thorn Witch, and her Spirit of Nobility.

Riddle Rosehearts…

… stakes his claim in Diasomnia right from the get-go. Word quickly spreads, making Riddle out as the “fuck with me and find out” guy. For the students of Diasomnia, who take great pride in their magical prowess, to set Riddle off and be beheaded revokes the source of that pride. “Have you reflected on your actions? Only then will I remove that collar.”

Though he’s removed from his usual dorm, he takes care to still observe the rules of the Queen of Hearts! This earns Riddle no shortage of strange looks from Diasomnia, some of whom (mostly the strictest of Draconians) criticize his loyalty to Heartslabyul. He doesn’t relent though–Riddle tunes out the naysayers and stays true to his own ideals. His fellow queen, Vil, approves.

He’s a(n unwilling) bat magnet. Apparently, a cauldron (group) of them hangs out in Diasomnia—Riddle made the discovery when he was first strolling down a particularly dark hallway. Screeching had filled the air, and he was immediately swarmed by bats!! “I don’t understand why they’re so attached to me…!” Riddle protested, shooing one off of his shoulder. (E-Eh, isn’t it because he’s the closest in height to Lilia-shi? Idia wonders.)

The students of Diasomnia (and even Jack, a first year), he notices, are much more disciplined than those of Riddle’s own dorm. They stay in line and do their work, though with perhaps more arrogance than one would like. If only his own students were just as diligent!! Riddle gets a headache thinking about what Ace and Deuce must be getting up to unsupervised (and no, Azul is no role model for them!!)… but even so, he doesn’t wish for them to be carbon copies of the Diasomnia kids. Heartslabyul may be full of fools, but they’re Riddle’s fools and no one else’s!

He beelines to Diasomnia’s bookshelves every evening to stack texts up high before stumbling off with them to read until he knocks out. Riddle is on a quest to take in as much knowledge as he can, from new spells to tips and tricks to simplify the current spells in his repertoire–his ambition is apparent! Then, perhaps, he will be wise enough and strong enough to overcome the Malleus Draconia in combat.

Though Riddle’s specialty is practical magic, the level at which the Diasomnia students perform it is astonishing to him. He burns out so quickly, while they can change the color of a dress multiple times without batting an eye, and orchestrate many cleaning implements at once! It’s frustrating, but it’s from this feeling that Riddle is able to drive himself to work even harder to achieve his goals.

It’s so odd for him to see bramble bereft of any flowers. The sight is so depressing to Riddle, but he can’t put words as to why exactly. He’ll politely avert his eyes when he sees those ashen, creeping thorns, or make a passing comment about how the atmosphere feels dreadfully gloomy. It’s like being trapped in a cage, he thinks. Memories of his past prick him, but he is quick to dismiss them before they overwhelm him. Like a rose, he shall grow and rise above the thorns.

He develops a fondness for floral teas during his time at Diasomnia. Maybe it’s the absence of flowers that makes him feel nostalgic for the gardens in Heartslabyul. When he sips a cup of rosehip, he dreams of the red and white of the maze, of strawberries and porcelain, and the card suits that decorate his vision. Ah, he realizes, the warmth enveloping his chest. That was it—that was where his home, his hearth, is.

“I do feel as though I’ve gained knowledge in Diasomnia that I could not have anywhere else. However, the same can be said of Heartslabyul. There were many things I could only learn because I was in Heartslabyul. That is not to say that my dorm members did not get under my skin every now and again, but I will always be grateful for the lessons they have imparted in me. This, too, is an experience for which I am grateful for–but, if you would allow me to say… there is no place like home. Fufu. Perhaps I’m simply becoming too sentimental.”

Jack Howl…

… keeps to himself and doesn’t trouble anyone—not unless they start trouble with him first. Most face-offs with Diasomnia students involve them staring each other down until they get scared off by Jack’s menacing face. In a weird way, that makes him the conflict resolver of the group—because people tend to run away rather than face him!!

Jack feels as though he’s witnessing a lot of things that he shouldn’t. For example, Riddle and Vil have made it their personal mission to whip underperforming students into shape… starting with their temporary dorm mate, Idia!! They confront him together, taking turns knocking at his door and then physically dragging him out when Idia inevitably pretends that no one is home. (Jack stares after them, wondering if Ruggie ever had to do the same to Leona to get him to attend class.)

When in doubt, Jack tends to defer to seniority. Like the good boy that he is, he’ll follow his upperclassman’s orders with barely a second thought!! … But trouble arises when Idia is the upperclassman that’s giving the order 😅 Jack takes his hyperbole seriously, so when Idia says something outrageous like, “C-Could you please not get within aggro range of me? Lmao, I could be at a single hit point and I’d still not want to deal with face-to-face interaction. Kk, thnx,” Jack just shrugs and lets Idia flounder when the Diasomnia mobs are assaulting the dorm leader with Malleus facts.

His poor nose just can’t stop sneezing!! It’s not that Diasomnia is filthy, but his sensitive nose can pick up on all the dust and the secrets littering the castle. From the ancient tomes to the artifacts and relics of the past that line the walls, there’s no place where he isn’t met with an enigmatic history that tickles his nose.

Jack’s used to doing everything himself, by hand. It catches him off-guard when he sees the Diasomnia students so casually use magic for everything. He shouldn’t expect anything less from a dorm that is full of all-rounders, but the last thing he expected to see was silverware flying across a table and serving up breakfast by itself! And… is that a clock and a candelabra fighting?! Who’s ever heard of living furniture…

He tries to incorporate some older techniques (recommended by Sebek) into his exercise routine. (”Our dormitory is well-equipped with everything you’ll need!!” Sebek had reassured him. “See to it that you use them well!”) Jack didn’t realize that it would involve hauling around weighted weapons!! He thought they were just fancy-looking wall decorations, not actual morning stars, axes, swords, and javelins! “Is… Is this really how they train in Diasomnia?!”

By happenstance, Jack discovers a single red rose blooming amid prickly thorns in Diasomnia’s west wing. He becomes strangely protective of it–maybe because it reminds him of the flowers that sometimes grow on the (just as prickly) cacti he raises in his dorm room. One might say he’s the beast that defends a beauty.

The night is especially beautiful over Diasomnia. When the moon is full, Jack watches it through his window, drinking in the stillness of the night, the shapes of the shadows and the thorns that run contradictory to the bright, silvery orb above them. In these moments, he sits back and contemplates where he is, and where he’d like to be.

“I’ve never noticed it before, but the sky looks different depending on where you look at it from. What does it look like where Leona-senpai and Ruggie-senpai are, I wonder… Maybe they’re so busy that they haven’t even had a chance to notice the moon. If that’s the case, then I’ll have to catch up to where they are! When I get back, I’ll show them just how strong I’ve become!”

Vil Schoenheit…

… looks perfect laid out against the backdrop that is Diasomnia. His austere looks and overwhelming aura make him the perfect evil queen of the castle. Every picture he takes of himself inevitably involves his face being illuminated by sinister green flames or an imposing dragon glaring down at him. Fitted in his own Diasomnia uniform, he gives off stronger villain vibes than ever “… This is hardly the sort of thing I need for my image,” Vil sighs.

Indeed, Diasomnia can be quite archaic in its ways–but in coming from Pomefiore, Vil brings with him a certain sense of respect for the old. He recognizes the past as not superior nor inferior, but as a basis for which the future is forged from. To him, it’s crucial to understand and to be aware of what came before so he can build himself up from that. This philosophy is what guides him as he learns to adapt to the lack of modern amenities in Diasomnia.

Like Riddle, he is keen on doing his own thing, regardless of the comments that others make. (Since when has a queen like him let the thoughts of his subjects dictate his behavior?) That means rising bright and early to train with Jack, engaging in a thorough self-care routine, and maintaining a healthy diet and sleep schedule. Unlike Riddle though, Vil’s anger is more icy than fiery. If someone offends him, they’re met with a cold shoulder and perhaps a cool tongue lashing.

For the most part, Vil acts courteous to his other dorm members–for it is easier to attract bees with honey than with poison. His natural charisma and charm get him in the good graces of some students, who pass on their knowledge of certain potions and curses. One sleeping curse he hears of is so powerful that it could only be broken by true love’s kiss! Vil shivers, praying that such a thing would never come to be weaponized.

He continues to work on crafting his own homemade cosmetics. Vil has to change up the ingredients in them, since he no longer has access to the same things he’d have back in Pomefiore. Thanks to his new connections, he’s able to obtain rare plants from the Briar Valley to use in his lotions and liquids. Vil also experiments with repurposing the creeping bramble around Diasomnia in various forms—dehydrated to brew a tea, powdered as a setting product, pounded into a paste for a wash-off mask…

He changes up his style to feel more “at home” in his new territory, adopting more vintage clothing and accessories to suit the era which the castle comes from. At any given point, Vil will look like he has just walked out of filming for a historical drama or a period piece.

Vil had always thought that Epel would be his biggest problem child… but hey, Idia is a close second. While Riddle harps on his in-person attendance, Vil focuses on how Idia chooses to present himself in both appearance and behavior. “For Sevens’ sake, you’re the son of the distinguished Shroud family. It’s high time you started acting like it,” he chides his peer. “You’re wasting your good looks with that gloomy expression and hopeless slouch!!”

After witnessing how well-trained the students of Diasomnia are, Vil has a newfound respect for his fellow dorm leader, Malleus. It’s not like he’d ever share the compliment out loud, but for him to have a positive opinion of the man who constantly misses dorm meetings is still a step up. It seems that they do have some things in common.

“It is said that the Thorn Witch boasted great grace and decorum. If Diasomnia is a reflection of her character, then I can say with confidence that my expectations have been met. Beyond the superficial aspects–although I do find them to be in good taste–there is a noble spirit that runs throughout the dormitory. As much as it pains me to say this, not even Pomefiore would be able to replicate such elegance. Hmph, we’ll just have to polish our own unique traits such that our sparkle rivals Diasomnia’s.”

Idia Shroud…

… couldn’t be more unenthused. Not only has he been forced out of his room and deprived of his vast collection of tech, anime, manga, and games–but now he’s trapped in the same living space with all kinds of super strong personalities! It sounds like a plot straight out of a meta harem manga where the main character wants no part in any of it, he grumbles. S-Save me from this living hell, Ortho!!

He tries to minimize his presence as much as possible, but it’s difficult to do when his flaming hair makes him easy to spot in every dark corner or amid the sconces lit with green flames. (Everyone’s so quick to hone in on him, it gives him near heart-stopping fright!!) Because of this, Idia has chosen to wear his hood up most of the time (in hopes of diminishing any light he’d be giving off). 

He’s so disappointed that he didn’t at least get lumped into a dorm with a cute cat (Idia had been praying for Grim, but even Leona would have been acceptable). But nooo, instead he gets stuck with a muscly dog man. Why’s my gacha luck so bad IRL?! Cats are obviously far superior to dogs, NO QUESTION!! (Jack wonders why Idia stares so intensely at him, but maybe it’s best he doesn’t ask…)

Diasomnia has wifi, but it’s not nearly as fast as Idia would like for it to be. He constantly complains about missing the high speed internet of Ignihyde, though he supposes it’s sufficient for gaming. Idia laments to his online gaming buddy, Crimson Muscle, who reassures him that all will be well; Gloomy Samurai will surely get over this rough patch!!

This man can’t be left alone to just be a nerd in peace!! Idia could be playing a fantasy game, watching an anime, or reading a manga, and out of nowhere a Diasomnia kid will pop up and lecture him about how actually the depiction of dragons in that game/anime/manga is inaccurate, or how it spits upon Malleus’s image to indulge in such materials. Idia often doesn’t have the energy or the confidence to fire back, so he’ll pack up his stuff and rush away. In his mind though, he’s cursing out the killjoys! (Idia gatekeeps on a regular basis, but he can’t take it when others do the same to him.)

He doesn’t get the hype around all the Draconians who stan Malleus or claim him as their oshi. Idia’s just smart enough to know when to zip his lip so as to not incite an angry mob. (What’s so great about that guy anyway? It takes more than being an OP character to get Idia’s attention!) Unfortunately for him, a Diasomnia mob mistakes Idia waving green glow sticks for an online concert as a sign that he, too, is a massive Malleus fan. This leads to Idia being introduced to other Draconians (he was too timid to correct them) and thus getting locked into a miserable cycle of being force fed boundless praise for their dorm leader and expecting Idia to echo their sentiments.

He takes solace in knowing that the biggest Draconian of them (Sebek) all isn’t around to shout in his ear about WAKASAMA this, and HUMAN that… but it’s honestly just as bad to have Riddle nagging him in one ear and Vil nagging him in the other! Idia feels like he’s playing a stealth level every time he has to exit his room—cuz once either of them catch wind of him, it’s Game Over!! It’s safest for him to just hole up forever…

Because Ortho begged him to try and make new friends, Idia attempts to try and start a D&D (or whatever the Twisted Wonderland equivalent of it is) campaign up. Something simple that allows for socializing! … The problem is, the Diasomnia students are WAY too competitive and take the game super seriously. They even have the gall to defy HIM, the DM! (“Womp, womp, womp. Your character died! Sure sucks to be you, hihihi!” “I roll to stab the DM and claim his position as god of this world!!” “LOL, you can’t do that, dude…” “… I roll to stab the DM.” “I LITERALLY JUST SAID THAT’S A NO-GO!!”) They get nowhere, so Idia has to shut it down.

“D-Did all the elements of the world come together one day and decide to dunk on me or what?! E-Every time I leave the safety and comfort of my bedroom, th-there’s some kind of world-ending event thrust in my face... I-I’ve been kidnapped by a ghost, pulled out of school to run tests on my classmates, possessed... B-But even worse than all of that is... being forced into social situations I didn’t ask for!! Seriously, not a single soul wanted that birthday interview ‘oh, if you had to pick a different dorm to join’ hypothetical to come true!! If this is some kind of cruel and unusual joke, you can pop out and point and laugh at the geek already! J-Just get it over with so I can go back to my uneventful otaku life already!!”

[mermaid-trash]

Hello! Could you maybe write something about The Riddler x Artist! S/O? Maybe they’re always drawing him, they’re the ones making his cards for Batman, etc. Thanks I advance!

Absolutely, have some headcanons for this 💚

Edward Nashton x Artist!reader

No matter what your hobby is, Eddie is always your biggest supporter

He would absolutely gush over any artwork you showed him

"oh my love this is beautiful, I'm so proud of you"

Definitely would hang as many on the wall as he could

Like he has a wall in his bedroom similar to his wall about the Renewal fund but just every drawing, doodle, and sketch you've ever done since he met you

Some of them are drawings that you never gave to him...

I feel like he would want to watch you while you draw/paint/whatever, like on his stomach, swinging his legs like a schoolgirl

But if you needed space he would totally understand, he can't stand the feeling of someone watching him work (except for you of course 💚)

If you drew him he would carry it everywhere with him, probably folded up in his wallet like a lil goofball 🥺

Oh and if you drew the riddler??

He'd probably put it up on his background for the riddler videos, he'd love it so much

And definitely brags to his followers about your art on his streams

He gives long-winded speeches on the use of colour in your latest painting and his followers are like 🙄 this again...

He would never ask you to help him with making the cards for batman, but he would have to ask for your help on so many things that eventually you're like "here just let me do it" 😂

And Eddie just falls more in love with you for offering to do it for him

Imagine, he's sitting at one desk building a bomb and you're sitting next to him at another desk making a cute little pirate card with a riddle in it :)

OH PAINTING DATES WITH EDDIE

Like maybe you're a lil wine drunk and you've each got a canvas and some paints

I'm shaking over this idea it's so cute

He'd want to display both of your paintings together on the wall of the living room

Eddie just thinks you're the most talented person ever no matter what art you make, and he can't believe how lucky he is to be with you

[gingersnaaps]

ctrl + shift + n

you should always remember to close your tabs - especially your tabs of tumblr smut, and especially around miya atsumu.

wc: 1.6k

tags/tw's(PLEASE READ): explicit n*fw, noncon, fingering, panty gag, finger sucking, condescension, super meta, fem!reader with internal genitals, college!au

a/n: i feel like this has been done before but i’ve had this concept on my mind for a while

i don’t want minors interacting with my content

Miya Atsumu. Star volleyball player at your college. Undeniably talented. Riddled with scholarship offers and professional opportunities. Infuriatingly attractive.

Also: a terrible group project member.

“Just lemme have a look,” he whines, grabbing at your laptop. “It’ll only take a few seconds. Promise.”

It’s a heroic task, ignoring him. It almost takes as much brainpower as doing his portion of the project for him.

Your eye begins to twitch as his perfectly-filed fingernails intrude at the edge of your screen, obscuring part of the slide you’d been working on. Technically, he should have been the one doing them, but as much of a genius as he may be at volleyball(this fact was grudgingly admitted after you’d watched him play once), he was utterly useless when it came to anatomy and physiology.

And you really, really, needed to end the semester without failing.

The cool metal of the laptop slips out of your grasp, and you roll your eyes so hard that you think they might get stuck in your head.

“Just wanted to see what you’d been workin’ on,” Atsumu says sheepishly. He’s sitting at the opposite end of your couch, legs kicked up and crossed on the coffee table, and the bright screen disappears from view as he begins clicking through the slideshow. “Not bad,” he muses. He presses a few more keys.

His face suddenly changes, a brow quirking as his eyes darken.

“What?” you snap. “Should’ve done it yourself earlier if there’s something you don’t like.”

He jumps slightly, startled by your harsh reaction. “No,” he says quickly. Too quickly. “It’s good. I like it.”

One more thing to note about Miya Atsumu, you thought to yourself: he was probably terrible at poker.

He returns the laptop to you, as promised, and hums idly as you resume working. The two of you sit in silence, but it’s not exactly comfortable - after the awkward exchange, there’s a layer of tension that hangs thick and heavy in the air. The air conditioning drones on in the background, like white noise meant to soothe, but it worms its way into your conscious mind and sits there, just noticeable enough to be irritating. Aside from that, it’s quiet enough to hear a pin drop.

Of course, he’s the one to break the silence.

“Didn’t know you were into that kinda’ stuff.”

You freeze.

“Didn’t think that a girl like you would ever be lookin’ at something so messed up.”

Panic clenches at your stomach, and you reply carefully, voice measured and cold. “What are you talking about?”

“Should really be more careful about which tabs you leave open,” he chuckles.

You scan the cluttered row of tabs at the top; there’s nothing missing. Your eyes dart around the screen frantically -

There’s an incognito window open along your taskbar.

“Rough sex, violent sex, rape? Jesus christ, sweetheart.”

You click nervously, and on the screen, clear as day, is the fic you’d been reading earlier that morning. It’s one of the blogs you frequent - normally one of your favorite places to scroll through after a nasty day - but right now, it seems almost sinister, black font on a white background staring back accusingly as your skin prickles under his gaze. You swallow; a heavy, sinking feeling squeezes at your chest, closes up your throat, makes you feel like you’re dry drowning.

He grabs the laptop back. He’s sitting a lot closer now.

“I mean, just look at this shit. You really want this, huh?”

“No, I- I don’t.” Your voice sounds foreign, far away - you feel like you’re underwater, and your denial sounds guilty even to your own ears.

His lips graze your ear, the warmth of his body spreading to yours as he slides an arm around waist.

“If you wanted to be raped, angel,” he whispers, a terrifying grin stretched wide across his face. “All you had to do was ask.”

He laughs at his clever little joke, and pulls you onto his lap.

You feel numb, paralyzed, unable to fight back or move at all as his hands glide along your inner thighs, kneading the soft, puffy, flesh, spreading them apart until you’re straddling his lap. He pulls your hair to one side and starts kissing along your jaw, rough and sloppy, sharp teeth nipping at the underside of your jaw as you shiver.

He punctuates his words with a harsh squeeze to your thigh, thumb brushing dangerously close to your cunt. “I bet you were getting off t’ this, weren’t you?” he hisses. “Bet you were just dripping down your thighs, squirmin’ around ‘n moaning, fantasizing about some scary man who just takes what he wants.”

The dull, pained, look in your eyes reads like defeat to him, sending a thrill of pleasure through his veins. He’s right, isn’t he? He’s fuckn’ spot on about your little habits, your little fantasies, and he’s gonna make sure that all your dreams come true.

“Let’s do this exactly how it’s written out, how’s that sound? Follow along with your cute story ‘nd everything,” he muses, scrolling down the page. “Starts out with her - you - getting fingerfucked.”

It’s as if those words break some sort of dam inside you, a flurry of tears and sobs heaving out of your chest as his fingers trail up to your clothed clit. You squirm back and forth in his lap, ass rutting against his hardening cock. “Don’t want it,” you whimper. “Don’t make me. Please.”

“Playin’ along, angel? That’s cute.”

He peels your skirt off of you, thumbs hooking around the waistband of your panties as he pulls them off and stuffs them in your mouth. You can taste yourself on the damp fabric that clings to the roof of your mouth, spit soaking through as your whines and protests become muffled.

Fingers spread your pussy apart, sliding and squelching embarrassingly in the slick, your skin cold and exposed in the open air. As he rests his thumb lightly on your clit, he quirks his lips at the way your heartbeat thrums in your cunt, your pussy twitching as you clench around nothing.

Best part is that you like this, that you're turned on by this, he thinks. The fat, silvery, tears streaming down your face mean absolutely nothing when you’re so obviously into it.

He thrusts a long, thick, finger in, all the way to the last knuckle, the calloused pad of his fingertip brushing up against your spongy walls as your pussy contracts and squeezes him tight. “So eager,” he coos. “It’s jus’ like you always imagined, huh?”

You sniffle as the outline of his cock presses into your ass, rutting his hips against you and moaning from the delicious friction of the fabric. There’s nowhere for you to go, one large hand squeezing your waist and holding you down, the other fucking you backwards into his broad chest.

He crooks his finger; you sob, body drawn taught with pleasure, and he pushes another inside as you spasm. He’s good with his hands, unfairly good, his thumb nudging against your sweet clit in circles as his fingers scissor your walls and stretch you out so good. It’s as if you’re his little puppet, jerking around whenever he drags his fingers roughly against your g-spot, crying out through your stuffed mouth as blunt teeth sink into your neck and his tongue runs along the ridge of your ear.

“You’re makin’ a mess, pretty girl,” he murmurs, watching in delight as you flush with shame. “Dripping into my palm and all down your thighs, just like the girl in the story.”

You turn your head, trying to look away, but he grabs at the hinge of your jaw and forces you to meet his gaze. It’s taunting, cruel - he looks so pleased with himself as he fingers you until your thighs start trembling, walls clenching erratically as pleasure builds and builds.

His grip on your face turns tight, pressing bruises into your skin as you cream and gush around his thick digits. The orgasm crashes down on you in waves of pleasure, his fingers fucking you through it with constant probing and circling and stimulation.

His nimble fingers pluck the panties from your mouth, soaked with drool, and tosses them aside onto the floor. “Open up,” he says, prying at your mouth.

Your jaw goes slack, falling open, too tired to put up a fight as he shoves his fingers in. You’re not sure there’s much of a point. You suck sloppily, tongue laving around his digits, cleaning your cum off of him as he shoves his hand in deeper, making you gag and retch, and he moans loudly at the sight. You look so perfect - his precious little angel choking on his fingers, eyes watering and body trembling as you do everything he makes you.

You’re shivering when he withdraws his fingers with a pop.

He helps you put your clothes back on, wet panties sliding across your skin and leaving trails of shining slick. It sticks and clings to your pussy, makes you feel all filthy and used, and bile rises in your throat. Goosebumps ripple down your thigh at the sensation of cool air.

Atsumu nuzzles at your neck, fingers patting at your spent pussy, his tenderness almost mocking, and clicks back to the slideshow you’d been working on.

“Let’s save the cock for after you get us the A, hmm?”

[gothhisoka]

𝖍𝖚𝖓𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖚𝖓𝖎𝖛𝖊𝖗𝖘𝖎𝖙𝖞

𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔯 18- 𝔞 𝔪𝔞𝔰𝔨𝔢𝔡 𝔫𝔦𝔤𝔥𝔱

Fandom: Hunter x Hunter

Ships: Chrollo x Reader, Leorio x Kurapika, Hisoka x Illumi

Genre: romance, dark academia, royalcore, university AU

Word count: 3k

Background: This is from my (gothhisoka) fanfic on Wattpad and AO3 called Hunter University. It is Chrollo x OC, but I decided to change it around for Tumblr. Both Chrollo and y/n are hiding things from each other but are both feeling the same attraction. A masquerade ball is held at your university. You don’t know if he even wants to dance with you, but apparently he does. He wants to do even more than that.

Tags: Fluff, first kiss, sfw

The masquerade hall was astounding. The high stone walls were adorned with scarlet silk banners. Golden fabric streamers hung from every banister of the second-level balconies. As in the entrance, symbols of cherubs and mythical creatures were splashed across the ceiling in a dizzying array. The light was dim, for all the chandeliers were set low in the traditional style of Venetian masquerades. Candelabras were scattered on every table and upon every wall.

Symphonic music was emanating from the open stage in the front of the room. A live orchestra was playing a gentle concerto as the students poured in. It was only 7:10, so not many were on the floor. The true dancing would start in another couple of minutes.

It was a scene out of a fairytale. The hundreds of breathtakingly dressed students only added to the general fervor of it all.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Chrollo said as he looked towards you. It was unclear whether he was talking about the room or how you looked tonight. Your bright eyes shone out underneath a bronze mask, which was catching the candlelight within its shiny material.

Still entranced, you were led by Chrollo to the table they had reserved. The troupe followed behind, engrossed in their conversation while you both remained in your own little world. He put his hand on the small of your back, simply aching to touch you once again. The feeling was mutual.

On the table, there were glasses already set up accompanied by a lavish bouquet of flowers. Uvogin pulled out a couple of bottles of champagne he clearly swiped from the restaurant. Everyone dropped off their bags at the table.

It appeared as if not all of the troupe members would be dancing. Franklin was already seated with his arms crossed. You looked at him questioningly, after which he said, "I have to guard the stuff." It was clear by his tone that he actually meant "I don't like to dance."

You smiled placidly and nodded in understanding. He was an unusual sort of guy. She was beginning to like him already. In fact, the whole Phantom Troupe was becoming gradually more likable as the night progressed.

You looked for Kurapika to bid him one last warning before he got whisked away by Leorio. By the time she spotted him, it was already too late.

You watched as Kurapika scratched at the back of his head, suddenly unaware of what to do with his arms. He was apparently awestruck by his dance partner's appearance.

The two made their shy greetings. Kurapika reached for his hand as any chivalrous partner would do. 

Soon a waltz commenced, floating around the room. A subtle violin and cello duet beckoned people out onto the floor.

You watched as Kurapika led Leorio out, their suit jackets glimmering synchronously as the lights passed. They took position still near their group's table, but far enough to have room to dance.

The wide floor soon filled with numerous other couples. Hisoka led Illumi out alongside Uvogin and Nobunaga. Hisoka and Illumi were practically professional dancers from the very start, moving to an elaborate step that drew the attention of all the students. People nearly cleared the floor to make room for them. This annoyed Illumi to no end, while Hisoka displayed a wild grin. They twirled, dipped, and did intricate step sequences, unquestionably rehearsed to perfection.

The rest were not as remarkably polished. Still, they appeared to be equally enjoying themselves.

Leorio and Kurapika laughed as one of them accidentally stepped upon the other toes or missed a movement. While they lacked coordination, they surely didn't lack chemistry. This was a good sign.

You could see their mouths moving but the music drowned out their voices. Kurapika attempted to guide Leorio in the basic box step, turning him once in a while. 

Most ignored the cameramen or simply didn't notice them lurking in hidden spots. You had some otherworldly feeling that sensed them under the shadows in the balconies. 

"Are you done watching?" Chrollo asked, holding his hand out to you just as Kurapika had done with Leorio.

You hadn't realized you were still staring out towards the masked partners on the floor. The ball was entirely overwhelming; the sound, the rapid movements, and the room itself were causing your head to spin.

Nonetheless, you snapped out of it and processed what Chrollo had just said. You just got offered a dance. A dance with him. 

You knew his indicative gestures were leading somewhere. That somewhere was here, into his arms. 

In front of hundreds of students, not to mention journalists itching to get a photo of the boy who was so famous. Not to mention his dance partner, who was no more than a low-level hunter wannabe.

Now's not the time to get nervous. This is what you wanted. Isn't it?

You stared down at his hand as if to ask "for me?"

You peered up to see the most gentle face slowly becoming riddled with doubt.

"This is what you want, isn't it?"

Is it? 

Now that you are actually here, in the position that used to be visible only in your imagination, you feel immense pressure.

In these weeks past, you didn't even question what you were getting herself into. To be fair, you weren’t sure what this night would be, exactly. Would you be met with a closed-off boy whose coldness warded you away or the courteous man who would rather teach you nen lessons than see you fail?

Is it even safe to get this close?

Chrollo's personality had shifted in the span of the night. It became full of genuine interest rather than his usual impassive curiosity. He, as a person, was becoming all the more real.

Real was dangerous.

This stream of consciousness only took a second. It took one look into Chrollo's eyes to know what your answer would be.

"This is what I want."

It was the first step. No, rather it was your first leap off a skyscraper.

You were falling. Hard.

His grip was delicate, holding your hand as if it was made of glass. Chrollo felt strange, being so unsure. He was normally an expert at figuring out people– what they felt and why they acted the way they did. 

You, on the other hand, were a labyrinth. He had always been so hesitant for this reason. Chrollo needed to be able to figure out a person in order to get close to them. With you, there was something buried deeper than you let on. It was virtually impossible to uncover. You put up almost as good of a front as Chrollo.

Or perhaps it was Chrollo's own mind that was muddied at the thought of you. His intentions versus yours, his morals versus yours. It all began to matter very much. What would he think in the end, after he got out of your what he so desired?

Nevermind that now. For Chrollo was feeling a mutual enthusiasm that you were plainly exhibiting. He led you out to the floor.

The Phantom Troupe watched with apprehension. They weren't used to their boss being so amiable. He couldn't be swayed by a simple person, and yet here he was.

"Can you dance?" Chrollo turned to you, putting an arm upon your shoulder. You already almost melted under the single touch.

You had reached the middle of the floor, far from the troupe. Was he that confident in his own dancing? The center could be viewed from all sides and balconies. You were sure to stand out.

"Not well," you said candidly.

Chrollo began a light step, swaying from side to side. This newfound tenderness was surprising. He was treating you as if you were a queen. And you couldn't get enough of it.

Wanting to grasp for more of this certain side of him, you said, "I can do more than this."

"As you wish," Chrollo said with a gracious smile.

He immediately followed a more complicated step, falling in line with the other couples on the floor. You pretended to ignore their whispers.

Just as you thought. He is an incredible dancer.

Every time you struggled to keep up he would adjust his pace. You worked like hands on a clock, moving as if set to one another's rhythm. The music now was a quicker allegro beat.

Your attire fanned out as you turned: your right hand in his, your arm on his shoulder. 

Now it was the students' turn to stare at Chrollo and you. It was unclear if it was because they recognized the boy under the mask, or they were observing the electrifying chemistry.

You couldn't help but beam as you sailed across the floor. Chrollo did not break eye contact and you did your best to do the same. 

A feeling overcame you as you continued to hold his hand in yours. It couldn't be described as fireworks or sparks, as often depicted by the romance novels she's read. It was more of an awakening.

Despite the weather turning cold, you felt as if it was spring. A revival. Things were blossoming, the rain washed away the grey of winter.

He was your spring.

It was odd. For Chrollo could be explained more effectively as ominous and intimidating, unlike a bright spring day. He should've been cold stone walls, closed doors, secret passageways.

But no, he was warmth itself.

If only you would turn away for a second you would notice a coldness settle that hadn't been there before. 

The way he looked tonight in his dazzling suit and mask, the way he said all those uncharacteristically gracious words: these were the things you would have etched in your memory for a very, very long time. Now, without Chrollo it would feel as if something were missing.

You would not realize this yet, as you were still in a state of pure elation. It was only the beginning.

But this was the connection you felt. Having it defined opened up a world of possibilities. 

Who would've known, it all came into fruition at a masquerade ball.

                                          ━━━━━♥♠♣♦━━━━━

After a couple more songs, you left the floor. Sweat prickled at your brow. You were left panting after a rapid final dance.

Several students couldn't help but clap. You hadn't even done a thing. You were sure it was Chrollo's dancing that gained all the attention.

"You're better than I expected," you said.

Chrollo brushed back his hair which had fallen in his face with all the movement.  "I would say the same to you, y/n." He smiled, sizing your up.

You didn't dispute his return of the compliment. He was right. 

At the group table, Kurapika and Leorio were sitting drinking glass after glass of the bootlegged champagne. It would've been inappropriate to bring alcohol to such a prestigious event if many other tables weren't doing the same. Apparently, the students here did know how to have a good time.

Chrollo went to talk to Franklin as you sat next to Leorio and Kurapika.

"You both were amazing!" Leorio exclaimed as you approached. 

You grinned, "Where have you two been?"

"We were on the floor too, didn't you see us?"

You tried to laugh it off, "No... I was a little distracted." 

To be fair, you didn't notice the cameras, the students, or the other dancers either. 

"Sooo are you two going back out?" Leorio asked, leaning on his hand. His words slurred slightly.

You looked over your shoulder at Chrollo. He looked serious as he talked to Franklin. "I'm not sure. Are you two?"

"Yes, we plan on trying the group dance. Just like we practiced," Kurapika said, giving you a knowing look.

The synchronized dance was the signature of the ball. All those who learned it were allowed to participate. It was the last dance, so they would still be sitting for a while. The time was now around 9:00 and the hall would be closed by 12:00 a.m.

Before they could converse any further, Chrollo gently put a hand on your shoulder. "Sorry to interrupt, but I have something to show you, y/n."

He held his hand out again. This time you took it with no hesitation. 

"Ok," you leaped up, flattening out your dress.

You were all too willing to go wherever Chrollo pleased. There wasn't even a point where she needed to remind herself who this man was. His charm had influenced you too far already. There was no going back.

Kurapika gave you a warning look. You threw him back a smile. This did nothing to reassure him.

Chrollo interlaced his fingers slowly with yours, hesitating as you crossed under the balconies. You could've dissolved right then and there. It only further confirmed his gentlemanly attitude and respect towards you.

You couldn't even look at him. You felt your face growing hotter by the second. Thank god for a mask and several layers of foundation.

To your surprise, you were led far from the dance floor. You ended up at a small door in a quiet corner of the ballroom. The spot was underneath the alcoves and not a soul was in sight. Moonlight poured in from the tiny stained-glass windows.

"It's through here," Chrollo said, his voice barely audible over the orchestral music.

"Do I get to know where you're taking me?" You stopped in your tracks. You were thinking of what Kurapika would say. Even though you would follow him at the drop of a coin, you weren’t that stupid. He is a man, before all else. 

Something flashed in Chrollo's eyes. Was he hurt by your sudden distrust? 

"I'll show you. I promise you'll like it," Chrollo replied, creaking open the door.

There was nothing at first, only darkness. But stepping through the door bestowed an even more enchanting sight than the ballroom.

You gasped, "I didn't realize there was a courtyard out here."

Chrollo looked at you as if he were seeing you the first time tonight again. The profile of your face was highlighted by the moonlight. your jawline was your only feature that stood out, the rest of your was soft under the haze of darkness. The surrounding blue contrasted against your fading red lipstick. your hair had grown significantly more disheveled but it still looked utterly smooth. If Chrollo was bolder he would've run his hand through it and took you by your waist and done things he surely would regret for initiating too soon... he wanted to savor the moment when it inevitably came.

He smiled, despite himself. Neither of you noticed the cold, still warmed from dancing only moments ago. Chrollo watched as your eyes soaked in the scene before you.

It seemed as if the bushes and trees saved their last breaths for this space alone. Fall leaves hung over a gravel path. Ivy snaked up the surrounding structures, all encapsulating the tiny yard. A small table sat in the center of the path upon which a lantern was placed. He had come prepared.

The whole night: he had anticipated it all. He had realized your love, and, at this moment, you realized his. What he had yet to figure out was the depth of those feelings or where they came from. Or, most importantly, what was tucked underneath those feelings. That was what tonight was for.

The orchestra still echoed faintly through the ancient walls.

"Shall we dance? I never did like dancing in front of a crowd,"

You redirected your eyes to an equally beautiful scene. You were still in reverence. It was obvious now that he had planned it all.

Your heart swelled like an ocean wave, but all you could manage to get out was, "Are we supposed to be here?"

Chrollo looked at you dangerously, "To remind you, I'm not supposed to be anywhere." 

Before you could say another word, Chrollo stepped forward and lifted both his and your own mask off of your faces. 

"There."

Chrollo's undivided visage was in view now. The curve of his nose and tops of his cheekbones caught the light of the moon. His downcast eyelashes were full, framing his silver eyes.

As for Chrollos view, he simply needed to see your whole face to be sure that what you felt was really true. When he saw the arching of your lips and widened eyes, he knew it was.

He grasped your hand in preparation to waltz, deliberately intertwining his hand with yours. 

Timed perfectly, the music slowed. It was a couples' number. Inevitably, this had also somehow been planned by Chrollo.

This dancing was quite different than before. It was full of significance.

The song picked up with a violin. Chrollo pulled you close, your bodies almost touching. Your heat radiated off of one another. You felt almost giddy with attraction. What you wanted to do to him was far past your confidence, but you wanted it all the same.

His eyes didn't leave yours. A slight smile persisted on his lips. He hadn't enjoyed himself so much in years. And the last time he felt something like this, it wasn't nearly as genuine.

You swayed from side to side with only the moonlight and distant concerto guiding your steps. You made a move to rest your head on his shoulder. It was so that you could not look into his eyes as you spoke your next words. You snaked your arms behind his neck while he placed his around your hips. It felt good to be so close. You felt secure in his arms.

You really hoped this was going where she thought it was. But you needed to be certain.

"I want to know if this is true," you whispered, breaking the tranquil silence. Your breath was hot against his neck. It drove him absolutely mad. 

Unknowingly, you had echoed back the words Chrollo had been retracing in his head throughout the night. Is this true?

He feigned ignorance of the meaning behind your statement. "What's true?" Chrollo whispered back.

"Is all this premeditation for something else? Another scheme?"

Chrollo suddenly turned serious, "I will never do that to you again. This is for real."

You pulled back to look into his eyes, "But what is this?" 

Your face was lined with apprehension. After all that happened tonight, it still wasn't clear. Chrollo needed to change that.

He looked down at you, attempting to convey what you meant to him in his eyes. They overflowed with tenderness, admiration, and worship, even. 

You hadn't realized that he had these emotions in him. Now you understood. It was all because they were reserved for you.

His movement was swift. He lowered his face to yours, soaking in your divine scent. You didn't anticipate what was about to happen until his lips delicately brushed against your own, asking for an invitation. He clearly didn't need one, for your body responded immediately. Your hand trailed up to the side of his face. Chollo pulled your hips towards him. Your eyes fluttered shut.

And you kissed. 

It was intoxicating.

The taste of him nearly silenced your thoughts. It was a tang of wine and sweetness. You tried to let the feeling seep into your bones, agonizing over its ephemeral nature. 

Your surroundings dissolved into the inky night. You focused on how soft his mouth felt, how his hands upon your hips made you want to yield to all he could offer, and, in turn, all you could ever desire.

Seconds later, you unwillingly pulled apart. Your whole body tingled, edging for more. Both of your heartbeats were fluttering a rapid cadence. Remaining there for a moment– foreheads touching, breath tickling one another lips– you savored each other's presence. 

Your kiss was unlike anything either of you had experienced before. It was born out of lust but resulted in something deeper. Floating to the surface was an unbound attraction sparked by one mouth on another.

You both were left smiling with flushed cheeks. Goosebumps prickled on your arms.

"I hope that made it clear," Chrollo said pulling away at last.

The warmth disappeared and you were left in a state of longing. You could still feel the touch of his lips upon yours, a ghost of his sensitive movements.

You smiled lightly at him, "It did."

Chrollo held out an arm for you. "We best be getting back now."

You were frozen in place, coming to your senses. Holy shit.

The enormity of what that kiss meant came crashing down upon you. What would this mean moving forward? Everything had seemed so temporary with Chrollo, coming in and out of your life as he did in the past month. Was this temporary as well?

There was no time to dwell upon the future of their relationship. Although the promise of privacy in the courtyard tempted you to stay, there was still one more number to dance. 

                                      ━━━━━♥♠♣♦━━━━━

[cocos-cocoapuffsarenotforsale]

His Little Witch~~Part 8

MASTERLIST

Part 7

Main Pairing: Tom Riddle x Reader

Background Pairings: Harry Potter x Ginny Weasley, Ron Weasley x Hermione Granger, Luna Lovegood x Neville Longbottom, James Potter x Lily Potter, Draco Malfoy x Pansy Parkinson

Tags: SMUT, Swearing, Controlling!Tom Riddle, Controlling Relationship, Canon-Typical Violence, Possessive Tom Riddle, Soulmates, AU, CANON DIVERGENCE, Minister of Magic Tom Riddle, Out of Character Tom Riddle, nice Tom Riddle, Dumbledore and Tom get along, sane Tom Riddle

Taglist: @chewymoustachio, @peachsnyder138, @marvelous-glims, @ingeniouscollectionthing, @thedarkshiningknight

A/N: Special thanks to @thedarkshiningknight for reaching out to me and inspiring me to continue this story. As of now I am planning on writing 12 parts though it could be more. Love you all so much and I hope you guys like this new update!

————————————————————————

“C’mon guys, just a quick visit. An hour at most.” You were currently trying, unsuccessfully, to convince James and Sirius to let you visit Hogwarts.

“Y/n, you can’t even leave the grounds. Tom made sure of that with that bracelet,” Sirius huffs annoyed.

“You guys are telling me you can’t figure out how to get it off? Really losing your touch eh Padfoot, Prongs?” Ok, you were trying to goad them into helping you but it had been six days. Six days of being locked up in the manor. Tom hadn’t been home yet but he had sent Lily and Remus to tutor you for the time being. Lily and Remus had been staying with you as well, not wanting to be away from their mates for too long.

“Nice try Y/L/N,” James says pointing an accusing finger at you. “But you are not going to suck us into this. We know better.”

“You damn well better,” Remus mutters as he enters the room. “If you two help her, the Minister will have your necks.” 

“Don’t worry about us, babe. We aren’t gonna be tricked by a rebellious eighteen-year-old.” Sirius boasts cockily. Remus shakes his head, not quite as sure of that as Sirius was. Sirius tugs Remus down on his lap and nuzzles into his face into Remus’s neck.

“Get a room you two,” you grumble. You normally didn’t mind their affectionate displays but after being away from Tom this long you were getting grumpy.

“Aww, don’t get grumpy just cause you haven’t gotten any lately,” Sirius teases, causing you to throw your book at him. He flicks it away with a chuckle.

“Nice try, love,” he chuckles, only irritating you further. You huff and stomp out of the kitchen and towards your room. You had to find a way out of this house.

“Y/n, you ok?” You heard Lily ask as she trailed behind you. You fling yourself down on the bed as soon as you enter your room, frustrated at the whole situation.

“No, I haven’t seen Tom in six days and he’s off hunting some maniac. We haven’t been apart for this long since we found out about each other. One day is hard enough but it’s been 6 days and no word. Just a couple of check-ins with Percy in the fireplace.” You grumble into your pillow.

“I know sweetie, James, and I haven’t been apart for more than a week since we found out we were mates. And that week was hell.” Lily replies softly, rubbing a hand up and down your back like your mom used to do when you were upset. 

“Why were you apart for that long?” You ask, turning to look at her and wiping the tears from your eyes.

“It was the last time Gavin Grindelwald went on a rampage, Harry was little and they needed all hands on deck, even then James and Sirius were Minister Riddle’s right hands. So he had to go with the Minister and his guard to try and hunt Grindelwald down. It took them seven days to catch him that time, and then he escaped a couple of years ago. They couldn’t track him down that time, and now he’s back.” Lily lets out a shaky breath and you can see her hands are trembling a little.  

“Lily? Are you alright?” You ask, reaching out and putting your hand on her shoulder.

“It’s just he vowed revenge on all those who caught him last time, mainly Minister Riddle but James and Sirius too. To be honest I’m a little relieved they aren’t out there this time. But then I remember how much of a target-” she stops herself remembering who she’s talking to. Her cheeks turn bright red in embarrassment. 

“Then you remember how much of a target Tom is and by extension I am. And your husband and best friend are responsible for protecting me.” You finish for her. Her face immediately turns apologetic. 

“Y/n, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.” She says softly.

“It’s ok, I know I’m a target. I’m sorry that James and Sirius have been assigned to me. I don’t want anyone to get hurt.” You whisper as more tears well up in your eyes. You couldn’t stand it if James and Sirius were hurt because of you. How would you ever look Harry in the eyes again? And if something happened to Tom, especially if he was protecting you…

You would die of heartbreak.

————————————————————————

“Little Witch,” you awake to Tom’s hushed voice.

“Tom?!” You ask excitedly as you open your eyes to find him leaning over you.

“Hey love,” he whispers, placing a soft kiss on your lips.

“When did you get back?”

“Just now, I’m sorry I woke you, I just missed you so much.”

“I missed you too Tom. I’m glad you woke me,” you sit up and wrap your arms around Tom’s neck.

“Did you catch him?” You ask after a moment, Tom stiffens at your question and that’s all the answer you need.

“Not yet. But the first task is tomorrow and I have to be there to keep up appearances. We don’t want people to start freaking out. And I missed you. I’ve got the best people on it.” He assures you, nuzzling his face into your hair, and inhaling your scent.

“Except for James and Sirius,” you grumble under your breath.

“They have a much more important task, you.” He replies placing a quick kiss on your nose before standing up and heading towards the bathroom.

“Where do you think you’re going, Minister?” You ask suggestively. 

“Well, darling, I’ve been working for nearly six days straight and I haven’t had time to shower. So I thought before I crawl into bed with my lovely mate I’d better get cleaned up.”

“Why don’t I help you?” You walk over to him and slowly start unbuttoning his dress shirt.

“I would love that, my Little Witch.” He replies moving his hands onto your hips. He quickly pulls your shirt over your head and throws it onto the floor.

“No magic?” You ask as you slid his shirt off his shoulders.

“Sometimes the muggle way is fun,” he whispers against your lips. You hurriedly undo his pants and he kicks them along with his boxers off to the side. He fingers the top of your pants and slowly eases them and your panties off. 

“My beautiful girl,” he whispers as he places soft kisses along your inner thighs.

“Tom,” you plead, breathless.

“Yes, Little Witch?” He scoops you into his arms and carries you to the shower stall. He switches the water on before testing the temperature. Once he has determined it to be satisfactory he sets you down in the shower.

“Tom, need you,” you whimper, he backs you against the shower wall and lifts you up by your ass.

“Where do you need me, Little Witch?” Tom asks as he grazes your pussy with his hard cock.

“Tom, please,” you beg as he twists your already pebbled nipples.

“Where, love?” He asks with another brush of his cock along the lips of your glistening pussy.

“My pussy. Please, Tom. Please fuck me,” You plead, making him smirk in triumph.

“Anything for you mate,” he mutters as he lines himself up with you. In one quick motion, he thrust himself into you making you gasp at the sensation.

“Tom,” you let out a low moan causing him to growl as he nips at your neck. His deep and hard thrusts build your pleasure and push you to the brink.

“Cum for me Little Witch,” he commands in a gruff voice. You allow yourself to give in to the pleasure and let yourself come apart around him. He groans, feeling you tighten around him and he finally releases his seed into you. He stays inside you until he begins to soften and then he gently eases out and sets you down carefully.

“That was quite the welcome home, Little Witch,” he teases, walking under the stream of water.

“I missed you a lot. And it’s not as though I had much else to do,” you grumble, remembering that you were supposed to be mad at him.

“We talked about this already,” he huffs, rubbing shampoo in his hair. 

“No, you talked about it, and ignored everything I was saying.” You move to help him rinse out his shampoo. You may still be pissed at him but you couldn’t resist touching him after being apart for so long. Stupid fucking mate bond, you think to yourself annoyed.

“Love, I did listen, I just disagreed. I’m not going to let you put yourself in danger,” he replies as he squirts some shampoo into his palm and motions for you to turn around. You comply and he gently massages it into your hair.

“Hogwarts is one of the safest places in the world,” you argue, switching places with Tom to condition his hair for him after he rinsed the conditioner out of yours.

“Yet you’ve sustained how many injuries there? And the Manor is safer, when I created that bracelet for you I also made sure you were added to the wards, the Manor will protect you. That’s why I prefer you to remain inside while Gavin Grindelwald is still at large. The grounds are protected but it’s safer inside the Manor.” He explains as he gently massages conditioned into your hair. You try to think of a good response while you both rinse out your hair and step out of the shower, but you draw a blank. Dammit, why did he have to make good points?

“I’m not a prisoner, it’s not fair to keep me locked up,” you reply tugging on your silk bathrobe.

“No, you aren’t a prisoner. But you are my mate and that makes you a target for my enemies. I will do whatever it takes to protect you, even if it pisses you off. I’d rather have you hate me and be alive than love me and be dead,” He whispers in a pained voice. And that’s when you remember what you had heard about his past. Tom’s father abandoned his mother when he found out she was a witch and in her heartbreak, she ended up dying right after giving birth to Tom. Tom had been raised in an orphanage that was overrun with children and never really received much love. Then it had taken him 20 years to find his soulmate, someone he could love and be loved by.

“Tom, I could never hate you,” you place a soft kiss on his lips and wrap your arms around his neck.

“I can’t lose you,” he whispers as his grip on you tightens.

“You won’t,” you promise, nuzzling your face into his neck.

“So can I go to the first task tomorrow?” You ask, making him groan in annoyance.

“Of course, why not? It’s not like there is a psychotic maniac out there who tortures people for fun and has a vendetta against me and anyone I care about.” He replies sarcastically.

“So it’s a yes?” You ask playing dumb as you pull away to get a better look at his face.

“No, absolutely not. We still haven’t caught him. He’s planning something big, and it could easily be happening tomorrow. It’s the first task in the Triwizard Tournament, he knows I have to be there, there will be a large crowd, parents, students, teachers and other citizens. It’s the perfect target. I will not have you go there and be put in danger.” He argues.

“Tom, I’ll be fine, I’ll be with you. There’s gonna be plenty of security measures in place. It’s probably safer for me to be there with you and tons of Aurors than stuck at home with only James and Sirius. Plus Harry’s competing tomorrow, I have to be there and so do James and Sirius.” You plead, looks like this argument was going to be harder to win than you thought.

“No, no. I can’t put you at risk like that. I will not lose you too. Not when I finally found you.” He says harshly, his jaw tightening.

“You aren’t going to lose me. I’ll be fine Tommy. Please.” You beg, throwing him your signature puppy dog face. 

“As adorable as you look, you aren’t going to win this with a puppy dog face.” He says smirking at your childish attempt at making him change his mind. Alright, time to switch tactics then.

“What about this?” You ask sliding your silk, black bathrobe off your shoulder and showing off more cleavage.

“Nice try, that isn’t going to work either.” He chuckles, we’ll see who’s laughing in a couple of minutes…

“Alright,” you pretend to give up.

“What?” He asks confused. You ignore him and turn around before shrugging off your robe and slowly sliding it off. You walk over to the bed before climbing onto it and laying down in the middle. Putting yourself on full display for Tom.

“I said alright. Sex isn’t going to convince you to let me go tomorrow.” You say, gently running your hands over your breasts, flicking your nipples softly. You see Tom straighten up and watch you carefully.

“Need some help there, Little Witch?” He asks confidently.

“No thanks. You didn’t want sex,” you reply, running your right hand down your stomach and cupping your pussy.

“No, I said that sex wouldn’t convince me to put you in danger tomorrow.” He argued.

“Well, since I don’t get to have any fun, ugh,” you moan as you rub your clit, “then you don��t get to have any fun.” 

“C’mon love, don’t be like that,” he groans and you can see him hardening at your moans. 

“All you have to do is say yes Tommy,” you tease, spreading your legs wider to give him a better view of you.

“No, love, I won’t say yes.” He argues but you hear his voice crack when you let another moan.

“Then neither will I.” You tease, sliding your index finger into your pussy slowly. “Aw, Tommy please, just say yes. Then we both can get what we want. Please Tommy say yes.” You beg. You see his guard falling.

“Fine, but you stay by my side the entire time understood?” He relents.

“Yes Tom, I understand.” You agree.

“Now can I help you take care of your problem?” He asks, eyeing your pussy hungrily.

“Yes Tommy,” you whisper breathlessly. He is on you in a second, sliding into you just as quickly. His thrusts are slow and deep, teasing you as you had just teased him. 

“Faster Tommy, please,” you beg. He shakes his head, his face breaking out into a smirk.

“Not yet love,” he says before capturing one of your nipples in his mouth. 

“Please Tommy,” you whimper as he rolls your other nipple between his thumb and forefinger. 

“Your wish is my command,” he replies before thrusting into you faster and harder.

He locks his lips with yours as he thrusts in and out of you, deep and hard. 

“Tom,” you moan as you near the edge.

“Let go, love, cum for me” he commands gently.

“Yes Tom, agh,” you groan as you give in to your release.

“Good girl,” he praises before he stiffens and shots hot jets of cum inside you. 

Once you both come down from your high he gently eases out of you and tucks you under his arm. He places a gentle kiss on your forehead and then buries his face in your hair. 

“I love you,” he whispers softly. 

“I love you too Tommy. Everything is gonna be ok.” 

“I can’t lose you Little Witch,” he mutters, his voice raw with emotion.

“You won’t Tom, I promise.”

————————————————————————

Part 9

[batmanie]

Petri dish - Scriddler

Furious screams and a wild stream of insults sobered Jonathan from his almost catatonic state. Two guards dragged a newcomer through the bright corridors of the asylum. The man struggled and flailed but he was powerless, while held in their iron grasp. Scarecrow opened one, bloodshot eye, his ears always eager to listen to the sweet sounds of despair that other inmates often emitted within the welcoming walls of Arkham. As the guards showed the man to the cell in front of his own, Jonathan took a good look at his new neighbor. Short, light brown hair, wide forehead, average-sized, and a high-pitched, annoying voice – it was Edward Nigma – the riddle-guy who had hacked the GCPD database, blackmailed the city hall and pissed off the Bat. Crane had seen him before but it looked like Nigma had had an encounter with Batman again, and judging by his bruises, it hadn't ended up too well. “Listen to me, you brain-dead dullards,” Nigma shouted at the guards through the glassy wall of his solitary cell, trying and failing to get their attention. “...you know I'm right, even a simpleton like you should be able to see that! Batman cheated! I don't know how he did it but I'm going to find out!” He slammed his fists into the glass, his voice now distant but still weakly echoing through the otherwise silent corridor. “I will expose this fake hero-wannabee! Can you hear me? I'm not a villain – HE IS!!!” Scarecrow smiled internally, this sounded like the beginning of a first-hand object lesson on the psychology of a delusional, egotistical, clinically narcissistic patient. A truly delightful combination of mental disorders squeezed together into this one, fragile-looking body. It almost surprised him, how much hatred and passion a single man could contain.

Scarecrow's night was passing accompanied by Nigma's shouts, bragging and wailing as the background noise. It was going on for so long that after some time Jonathan grew tired of the repetitive theme of Batman being the evil offender, and his mind slowly started to produce quite vivid images of multiple ways to shut Nigma up – one of them included getting him drawn down the toilet. It was a good three hours since his capture when Edward finally ran out of steam and his tantrum died off – or perhaps Valium he had surely been given, had kicked in only now. Motionless like a stuffed doll on a field of hay, Scarecrow observed his neighbor through the glass, noticing how the nervous pacing stopped along with the screams. Nigma sat down on his cot, leaning against the wall. A few minutes later his body slid down on the mattress and he was already sleeping, one hand hanging from the bed. “Lesson one is over,” Jonathan thought, not without some relief. Maybe he could try to get some rest, too? He closed his tired eyes but his chronic insomnia got in his way yet again, leaving him sleepless till the morning. The next day, the pattern repeated itself – Nigma woke up highly energetic, paced up and forth, talking to himself, insulting every guard or doctor unfortunate enough to pass by his cell. His loud and constant rambling soon escalated into a full-out outburst of psychotic yelling about Batman's stupidity, which by the evening left Nigma with a sore throat and ended with the Arkham staff dosing him with more tranquilizers so he crashed on his cot like a roadkill on asphalt. It went exactly the same way for the next two days, and all that time Nigma didn't bother to notice that Crane was watching him from the safe distance of his own cell. So far the obnoxious man had made no attempt to interact with Scarecrow, which was surprising, because the psychological profile that Jonathan was able to put together based on his observations, clearly suggested that this individual sought any form of attention he could get. Yet, Edward acted like Crane didn't exist. Or perhaps in his self-centred psychosis, Nigma really didn't see him?

-#-

In the afternoon of day four of his research on Riddler, Scarecrow was waiting for the nurse who was bringing food rations to the patients every day at 2 p.m., disposing it by putting a plastic tray through a small hole in the metal door of each cell. He didn't trust the Arkham food but he enjoyed those little moments when he could decide to make some sudden movement and scare the living hell out of the poor nurse. Or he could very well just stand next to the glass, staring the nurse down with his cold, professional gaze. That method of intimidation tended to work even better on some of his test subjects. The best thing was, he didn't have to choose beforehand, he was free to just go with it as the situation progressed. As he stood there, waiting patiently, he spotted Nigma doing the same. Their eyes met from across the bright-lit corridor and it was the first time the riddle-man really spared him a moment of his attention. Crane took a good look at Edward's face – the face of someone who was still youthful, still untouched by the true horror that Arkham surely was. And even if one could probably call Nigma's features quite handsome, there was this look in his dark-blue eyes – the look of pure disgust that didn't make him look attractive at all. It made him look like someone who loathed everyone and everything around him. Jonathan would have felt offended by being stared down like that by some arrogant wannabee villain, if only he had cared. Luckily for Nigma, he didn't. The night after that event brought an unexpected, new development. Scarecrow was pretending to be asleep, as he usually did, when his ears picked up some commotion in the cell across the corridor. It was Nigma – turning over on his bed, talking in his sleep. Jonathan rolled his restless eyes. Was all that talking during the daytime not enough for this man? It was about 90 minutes since the riddle-man had fallen into his slumber, and he already must have entered his REM phase, having an uneasy time in his subconscious. Intrigued and ready to take more mental notes on Riddler's case, Doctor Crane got up from his cot and silently walked toward the glass, leaning in so close that his breath now created fog on its glossy surface. He watched as Nigma flailed his legs as if running from something or someone. He heard him mumbling incoherent rubbish, it was hard to recognize the words since 3 inches of bullet-proof glass, and the corridor separated them. Whatever sounds managed to go through the small air-holes in the glassy wall and right into Scarecrow's ears, they reminded him of a strangled “No, please!” and filled his dark soul with joy. “Night terrors,” he nodded to himself with appreciation, clinging to the glass like a fish in a tank. “How interesting.” It seemed like the stay in Arkham, or perhaps the latest encounter with the Bat had taken some toll on Mr. Nigma after all. “Just perfect.” He was eager to see which direction the nightmare was going but soon enough something changed in his test subject's behavior. The thrashing about stopped, Riddler's movements were reduced to simply rolling his head on the thin, sweat-soaked pillow. His moans went a note higher and gained a strange hint of despair and frustration. It didn't sound like a bad dream anymore, Scarecrow was confused, yet he was still staring at the man wriggling on his bed in some sort of not-so-unpleasant struggle. It was hard to tell for sure, especially in the dim light of the asylum after the 'lights-out', but Jonathan could swear he saw Nigma rocking his hips, his body twitching involuntarily with a short, intensive spasm. “So it's an erotic dream after all,” Doctor Crane mused, not even considering to look away. The elevated heart rate, increased blood pressure and muscle tension – it was quite amusing how the human body responded with symptoms of arousal to both fear and desire. The second one might not be related to his actual field of research but a true scientist should be open to all given opportunities to learn more about the subject. He wasn't given enough time to fully feed his scientific curiosity. Riddler suddenly gasped loudly, and his body shook with a violent convulsion. He woke up, Scarecrow knew that, whatever dream he had – it was over. Now, Nigma just laid there, trying to recollect, probably going through the mental pictures stored in his brain again and again. It didn't take long before Jonathan registered a slight movement on the other side once again. Edward shifted his position, making himself more comfortable on the bed, spreading his legs and pulling the thin, cotton bed cover over his lower body. His hands slid under the cover, Scarecrow didn't see well but he could easily imagine them roaming up and down the body, probably unzipping the orange jumpsuit or just exploring the still sensitive skin. Soon enough, a small patch on Riddler's cover started to rise and fall rhythmically, in a way that left very little to anyone's imagination. “He is really going to do this,” Doctor Crane hummed to himself in disbelieve. With all the cameras inside their cells, and with a reputation to maintain, that was a rather bold decision. Or perhaps this was just the compulsion of a madman? He had taken Nigma for more than just a man of basic instincts but then again, as a scientist, he knew that there was no escaping from being controlled by your hormones when triggered. The dream must have gotten the riddle-man good, leaving him hard and in need of release. No wonder the man was now moaning into his sleeve, covering his mouth with his left arm, while his right was steadily working on his erect member. “He is ready to pleasure himself in front of a camera. In front of me...” The thought intrigued Jonathan, he felt a shadow of a smile creeping over his long, hollow face. “A lack of shame,” he added to his internal list of symptoms of Nigma's mental illness. “Possible dissociative personality disorder – further research needed.” Edward did not finish yet, his right hand moving at a frenetic pace under the layer of his white cover. His hips were grinding for a fast release as he thrust into his own palm. At some point, his legs kicked the bed cover away, exposing him to the cold night air. Crane licked his dry, narrow lips, watching the show with anticipation. He didn't see the details but he could tell it was close now. A few seconds later, the body on the cot arched like a cane and a muffled moan reached Scarecrow's ears, he greeted it with mild amusement. The show was over and it ended rather predictably, Jonathan was about to retreat to his own cot when all of a sudden Riddler's eyes snapped open and the man perked up his head, catching Crane staring right at him. In the red hue of Arkham’s nightlights, Nigma's eyes seemed to be burning like a true hellfire. Scarecrow boldly stared into that flame, not even trying to turn his head away. He knew that the very moment they dared to lock their eyes in such an intimate situation, it automatically became a challenge – whoever looked away first, would admit his defeat and take the shameful blame. A dreadful, bloodcurdling female scream, coming from somewhere deep inside the asylum, shattered the tense, little moment they shared and made Edward instinctively look into that direction. Jonathan sighed, he was sure it was Zsasz going on one of his night escapades again. And if he was right, it meant an emergency lock-down and general havoc – no time to play mind-games with Edward. Casting one last look at his disheveled neighbor, Scarecrow caught Nigma quickly zipping up his jumpsuit and fixing his bed-sheets like nothing had ever happened. Before the alarm turned on, he returned to his spartan bed, getting back to his well-taught motionless position against the wall. He would continue in his research on Riddler tomorrow, he still had the time for that, tonight however, he could rejoice in the panic that was sure to spread through the madhouse any minute now.

[shuttymcshutfuck]

“I could do with a little more of your help”

Fictober day 2: “That’s the easy part”

Fandom: The Penumbra Podcast (Junoverse)

Rating: General

Type: Hurt/comfort

Word count: 1K

Relationships: Juno Steel & Rita (Platonic)

Characters: Juno Steel, Rita [REDACTED] 

TW: Crying

Ao3 link / Fictober masterpost

“When I was missing, I wasn’t alone. I got close to someone and like always I hurt him. It’s been a month and my apartment still smells like him. I can’t-” His voice broke slightly before he forced himself to continue. “I miss him, and I can’t go back there.”

or Juno has been sleeping in the office ever since he got back and Rita makes him take a nap. (Set just after Juno Steel and the Final Resting Place)

“Mista Steel, you better not still be in the office!” Rita was starting to worry about Juno. He barely left the office after he came back from god knows where with one less eye. And when he did it was never good. More than once she’d found Juno passed out at his desk and it was starting to become more of a habit. It wasn’t unusual for him to stay late when working on a case but he was practically living in his office now and they weren’t exactly swamped with work. “

“Mmm?” As Rita stormed into Juno’s office she saw him, half asleep and a complete mess.

“Mista Steel, please tell me you went home last night?” She watched him shake his head and he looked around trying to come back to reality.

“It’s fine, Rita. Don’t worry about me.” Rita saw him wince as he stood up and wandered through most likely in search of caffeine. She’d guess right apparently as Juno went straight to the coffee pot.

“Nuh uh Boss, no more of that. I am taking you home and we are going to have a nice relaxing day off. I’d say grab your coat but you’re still wearing it so let’s go.” She shuffled him out the door before he could protest. Luckily, a sleepy Juno wasn’t one to put up much of a fight with people he trusted until he fully came to. Hopefully, they’d be at his apartment before then. As soon as they got outside his apartment building however, he started to protest.

“Boss, we are going in so you can get some proper rest!”

“Fine, just not here. I can’t- can’t go back.” The look on Juno’s face made Rita soften and she took his hand. She could see the tears start to well up in his eyes.

“Okay, how about my place? It’s a little further but it’s not here.” Juno nodded and kept hold of her hand and Rita guided him through the busy streets. It wasn’t long until they were both inside her apartment under a blanket with snacks and hot chocolate. Thankfully, Rita had a set of Juno’s comfy clothes since it became a habit of her to drag him to her apartment after he went a good bit without looking after himself.

They sat in silence for a while, using a stream Rita knew Juno liked as background noise before she had the courage to speak up.

“Boss? Why didn’t you want to go to your apartment?” Juno was still half asleep, his head on her lap and he paused before replying.

“I uh- made a mistake the last time I was there. Hurt someone, I just can’t seem to go back.” Rita could hear the rawness of his voice poke through. So many things rushed through her mind. What had happened? Who had he hurt? How long had it been since he went back there? But she knew she shouldn’t pry, at least not now. Now, he needed rest and hot chocolate and that she could give.

“Okay, Mista Steel. It’s okay. How about you take a nap and I’ll wake you up in a lil bit?” She saw him smile slightly at that.

“M’kay.” Barely a minute later he was out for the count so Rita turned down the stream slightly and sat, running her fingers through his hair.

~~

“Mornin’ Boss. Well I guess it’s not morning anymore but you know what I mean.” Rita saw his eyes flutter open.

“Rita? What time is it?” She watched him sit up and look around the room after attempting to rub the sleep out of his eye.

“It’s almost dinner time. That reminds me, you want something to eat? I was planning to order us some pizza from that really nice place down the street-”

“Rita, why am I here?”

“Oh yeah, I should probably fill you in since you were pretty sleepy earlier. Basically, I found you asleep at your desk again so I tried to take you home so you could sleep but then you said you couldn't go there ‘cause you hurt someone or somethin’ so I brought you to my place instead!”

“Oh, I said that?” Rita noticed that Juno wouldn’t meet her eyes anymore, his face riddled with guilt that he tried to hide.

“Boss? Are you alright?” She saw a tear run down Juno’s face right before he hurried to wipe it away.

“Not really, Rita.” He shrugged, sniffling slightly as more tears started to fall.

“If you don’t mind me asking, what happened?” She put a hand on his knee and saw him smile ever so slightly.

“When I was missing, I wasn’t alone. I got close to someone and like always I hurt him. It’s been a month and my apartment still smells like him. I can’t-” His voice broke slightly before he forced himself to continue. “I miss him, and I can’t go back there.”

“Oh, Boss. I’m so sorry. You’re welcome to stay here for a bit, if that’ll help.” She watched him nod and wipe his nose with the sleeve of his sweatshirt.

“Thanks, Rita.”

“Don’t mention it.”

“You’ve had your heart broken before, right? How did you move on? How do you make it hurt less?” The look in Juno’s eyes brought tears to her own. He looked so desperate, so guilty.

“Making it hurt less? That's the easy part. Moving on? Now that takes some time. I don’t really know what to tell you Boss, it’s tough. What got me through it was knowing I still had someone there.” She nudged him playfully which got her a chuckle.

“Thank you, Rita.”

“Of course, Mista Steel. Now let’s order that pizza, I’m starving!” The end carried on like that, Juno and Rita on the couch together. Just chatting and watching streams and with the sight of a smile flickering on Juno’s face every now and then Rita hoped she was helping at least a little.

[homenum-revelio-hq]

Welcome to the Order of the Phoenix, Maggie!

You have been accepted for the role of HESTIA JONES! We love how you explored Hestia’s “gray” aspects. How she’s torn between doing “the right thing” knowing it’s outside the confines of the law, which she also finds incredibly important. How she’s positive and optimistic, but how that can be hard to maintain during war. We also loved your discussion of how pretty and feminine don’t equal dim - but that she often gets overlooked for it in a sexist world. That’s exactly what we were going for when we wrote her bio! So excited to have you part of the roleplay! 

Please take a look at the new member checklist and send in your account within 24 hours! Thank you for joining the fight against Voldemort!

OUT OF CHARACTER:

NAME: Maggie

AGE: 23

TIMEZONE: CEST

ACTIVITY LEVEL: I’m a student, so I normally have a very flexible schedule with time to write. Sometimes things will be more hectic, in periods where I’m swarmed with essays or exams, but I always try to carve time out to get some replies done

ANYTHING ELSE: No triggers or anything. I have a few years of experience RPing on tumblr, and lately I’ve been in a similar role-play focusing on long-term character development and longer para-based writing.

CHARACTER DETAILS:

NAME: Hestia Jones

AGE: 18

GENDER, PRONOUNS, and SEXUALITY: Cisfemale, she / her. When it comes to sexuality, Hestia is still in the discovery phase. Currently, she identifies as heterosexual, although she has sometimes questioned it. While Hestia is the kind to get surface-level crushes easily, deeper feelings comes a lot rarer and she thus doesn’t feel like she has enough experience with love / attraction to sort out what exactly she’s feeling. Sometimes she finds girls pretty too, giving her heart the same flutter as pretty boys, but she’s unsure if that means she likes-likes them. Hestia has shrugged it off at the moment and reckons she can figure it out as she goes along.

BLOOD STATUS: Half-blood

HOUSE ALUMNI: Ravenclaw

ANY CHANGES: None

CHARACTER BACKGROUND:

PERSONALITY:

At a first glance, it’s easy to overlook Hestia. But only for a moment - and only if her mouth is closed. While Hestia’s never been the kind to chatter mindlessly, she’s never been the kind to ponder in silence either. Her way of interacting with the world has always been to question it and she learned early on that asking out loud might give her an answer.

She was never the child that could sit quietly for hours and play. She’d race through the house, through the backyard (and the streets if her parents didn’t catch her), a hurricane of braids and skirts, a million question bubbling at all times. Her parents learned quickly that it was better to let her test her abilities -magical and normal- under supervision. She was always an outgoing child, happy to make friends with anyone from the kid next door to the mailman walking past, and thrived when she started Hogwarts. There was no question Ravenclaw was the house for her, filled with other likeminded kids to encourage and challenge her.  

Hestia is outspoken, sometimes coming of as abrasive when she get heated up. While she tries to avoid staring arguments, Hestia’s never been one to shy away from one either and is more than willing to defend herself - or someone else. It is easy to believe that if someone is kind, they’re a pushover, and if someone dresses prettily, they’re vapid - two assumptions that Hestia has rebelled hard against her entire life. She hates being dismissed for not wanting to trample over others, hates the idea of having to act cynical to be taken seriously. Hestia has a thousand thoughts and ideas, topics and questions brewing at any given moment. That doesn’t stop her from being kind, or from making friends. Most importantly, being feminine doesn’t make her less capable. As a child, she’d scoffed at the notion of having to chose between brains and beauty. She had scoffed - only to find it a trope that haunted her. While it was no doubt where she belonged once she started Hogwarts, and Hestia loved being in a house filled with likeminded people, she sometimes felt like she was hand waved away for not dropping parts of herself. Hestia made it difficult for anyone who talked to her to ignore her, but it didn’t stop her from getting into rows. More than anything, Hestia dislikes being underestimated.

One of Hestia’s issues is that she easily gets tunnel vision when it comes to solving problems, often seeing things as very black or white. Growing up in sleepy Scarborough, with a small population and an even smaller magical one, she was kept quite sheltered in terms of the problems in the wizarding world. Her parents explained the basics of how the magical world worked but avoided the issues of it - both for her sake and for theirs. They were content keeping to their corner and not rocking the boat. Hestia, as it would turn out, was not. Starting at Hogwarts taught her a lot of new things, including many of the injustices of the world that had been kept hidden from her. At eleven, it was vague concepts but the more she grew, the more she questioned, the clearer it became. As things grew bleaker as the dark side grew stronger, Hestia’s drive to do something grew as well. While she is clever, Hestia often doesn’t know when to stop- when it’s smart to walk away from an argument, when to admit defeat. It drove her into magical law, and later into joining the Order.

Hestia wants to do good. It’s one of her driving forces - clambering to fix at least a little corner of the world. To make something better for someone. But it’s difficult to keep an upbeat attitude when it feels like the world is determined to get a little worse each day. Sometimes it feels like pushing a rock up a hill, when the news keep pouring in and her efforts keep pouring out. It’s enough to chip away at the confidence of even the most chipper, optimistic person. And while Hestia is optimistic, she’s not naive. Some days it feels difficult to keep hope up, but she keeps fighting in the belief that if you keep pushing, something has to give. Even if it’s just the tiniest pebble. So Hestia keeps going, even on the days when the world keeps kicking when you’re down. She has always been stubborn, and she has never backed away from a fight before - so why stop when it’s something that matters?

BRIEF OVERVIEW OF FAMILY:

Hestia was the not quite planned, but more than welcome kid. Her father, Richard, was working as an editor for a publication focusing on magical authors and her mother, Delia, had just started working as an English teacher at the local muggle school. Hestia came with a bang; faster and with a bit more drama than either of them had expected, and it set the precedent. She was always a curious child, defying both muggle and magical child-proofings as she climbed across the house. Both her parents discovered quickly that the best way to keep her still was by distracting her through making her think. Delia would bring home puzzles, growing more complex as Hestia did, and Richard would fire off riddles and questions, pushing her to think outside the box and work her way through problems. As she grew older she would, in return, come up with her own riddles.

As a child, Hestia never ran out of questions. Her mom liked to joke that her first word was ‘why’, and that at the very least it was her favourite word. Hestia didn’t just want to know about why things happened - she wanted to know how they functioned as it did. How did the sky change colours? Why did birds fly certain places, how did their wings work, how did they know where to go? How did rain form, how did she grow?

If her parents ever grew tired of her constant stream of questions, they never showed it. They explained what they could when they had time, encouraging her to explore the reasoning of the world they lived in. If Hestia’s favourite phrase was ‘how does this work’, her father’s was ‘let’s find out’. When she grew older and her questions became more complex, he taught her how to navigate information and find answers. Every Saturday, he would take her to the library, where she’d spend hours browsing for books containing whatever topic that had caught her that week. They’d find enough books to tide her over until the next weekend. Hestia has many fond memories of sitting next to her mother while she graded papers and tests, reading her books and sharing the most interesting bits. While her parents might have been hesitant towards her experimenting with magic, trying to understand that part of herself, they never stopped her from learning.

While Hestia still loves her parents very much, her relationship with them started changing as she grew older. Her bubble expanded the day she went to Hogwarts, opening her view to the topics her parents had skirted away from. Her questions about the world became more difficult, and for the first time her parents didn’t have any way to help her find answers. Even worse, they didn’t want to. How come the wizarding world has such deep-rooted issues? Why did so many stay content knowing about the prejudice and injustice that ran rampant? It started as innocent questions once it became clear to 11 year old Hestia how important blood purity was to so many, and evolved as she grew older. Hestia did as her father had taught her -finding answers by looking for them- and that was how her interest for magical law started.

Her relationships to her parents kept changing as she grew, and it reached a new foothold when she graduated. They were delighted when she got an internship at the Department of Magical Law, happy that their daughter was reaching high and aligning herself with the Ministry. They are none the wiser about her involvement with the Order, and Hestia intends to keep it that way. She has distanced herself from them after joining; a part of her feels guilty keeping such a large secret from them, and even more so about putting them in potential danger through association with her. So it’s easier to not talk about it. She knows they would be horrified at her involvement - her parents that she loves so much, but that will always prefer to avoid the hard questions, to look away. It is a difficult process, growing up and realizing that your parents are just humans, with flaws and problems, and Hestia is still learning to navigate this new landscape.

OCCUPATION:

Hestia is currently an intern at the Department of Magical Law. She is just starting out and trying to find her footing, bouncing around doing the paperwork and research reading. While she hasn’t quite worked her way up to getting to handle any of the important cases -or a permanent position for that sake- Hestia loves her job and is determined to plant her roots in the department. She leaps at the chance to be given any kind of responsibility, taking on anything from coffee-runs to extra work. Hestia knows how it goes, and is determined to work her way upward through hard work - and she’ll do it all with a smile.

Her interest in law-work started around her fifth year, when it was time to start considering where she wanted her life to go post-Hogwarts. Hestia had always known that she wanted to have a job that challenged her, and she had always dreamt of having a job that mattered. Certain parts of the wizarding world had always bothered her and a childish part of her had always dreamed of helping to fix it. While researching careers and stumbling over the Department of Magical Law, Hestia started playing with the idea of making her childish dream a reality. It became clear what she wanted to do and she has geared towards it since. She thinks its perfect for her; not only does she get to be a part of something bigger, trying to make the world better through legal channels, but she also gets to spend her days pouring over texts, finding arguments and logic nestles within pages. While she is a long way from being able to lobby for dismantling the outdated laws, she’ll get there some day.

ROLE WITHIN THE ORDER/THOUGHTS ABOUT THE ORDER:

Hestia is on the newer side of the Order, still on the low-level and trying to find how her talents are best put to use. She contributes where she can, coming up with ideas and suggestions, joining the missions she’s asked to. While Hestia does believe in the work they do, she still harbors some conflicted feelings. Her work is within the law -the law that she truly believes can be fixed if enough good minds keep working on it- and it feels hypocritical to be a part of a group that’s outside of it, even if she’s working towards the same goal with both the Order and her job. Then there’s the question of what would happen if she got caught; her Order involvement could jeopardize the good she can do from within the Ministry. When first asked to join, Hestia hesitated, considering the risk and gains. In the Department of Magical Law, she could create long-term groundwork to help future generations, which would stop if she got arrested. In the end, Hestia decided that while fixing magical laws to prevent future discriminations is important, it would take too long. People are being killed now, muggleborns are running for their lives now.

While she doesn’t regret her decision, that doesn’t mean her involvement has been smooth sailing either. First of all, there’s the issue of clashing with some of the other members. Hestia hates being dismissed and passed over for her appearance, hates having good ideas waved away or being bossed around. While Hestia likes to be friendly, it doesn’t mean that she’s going to let people step on her either. Then there’s the Order itself. Hestia has by all means lived a pretty sheltered life, and is fresh out of school with a good amount of youthful optimism. She still sees things as pretty black and white - even if she’s part of an illegal group, it’s the right thing to do in her eyes. She has strong ideals, that gets a bit more challenged each day. Hestia is slowly coming to terms with the world -and particularly the Order- being a lot more grey than she thought. That doesn’t mean that some of their work sit easy with her. Especially recent deaths make her uneasy, making her views of what is right more difficult. Hestia knew that the Order is desperate, weary, but how far are they willing to go to to make the overall situation better? Where do they draw the line? Where does she?

SURVIVAL:

Hestia’s work is her survival. It’s her distraction, her alibi, her sanity. While she has no doubt that joining the Order was the right move, it still makes her feel uneasy standing opposite the law - even when it’s the right thing to do. So she throws herself at her work, compensating her work outside the law by working hard within it. It gives her comfort when things look bleak within the Order, to know that she can help in another way. If the Order’s mission fail, Merlin forbid, then the law will still be there. Chipped and with its flaws, it’s still there. It can be worked on, it can be improved.

It also makes her look inconspicuous. Hestia’s hopes are that someone so dedicated to the laws and rules of the wizarding world won’t arise suspicion of being in the Order. If her presence is missed or she has to reject a social advance, she’ll cite mountains of paperwork as a reason for staying home, joking that interns are always given the worst tasks nobody else wants to take on. Still, she takes precautions to not be associated with the vigilante group. She likes to travel around when she’s not working, making it less suspicious to rarely be seen around her flat in Queensway. She avoids the topic of the Order when she can, content to shake her head in disapproval or tsk as she knows how oftentimes choosing words too carefully says more than you intend to.

RELATIONSHIPS:

Hestia is desperately trying to manage her relationships but it’s difficult. She navigates different spheres, there’s her normal friends, her work friends, the Order and her family - all of which are taking hits. Hestia has a lot on her plate. Time-wise, the Ministry takes a huge chunk of her days, and she is working hard to not neglect her Order position either. Then there is the Order itself. Outside it, Hestia is navigating how to keep it at a distance. It’s difficult to have deep, meaningful conversations when you’re afraid that you’ll slip up, say something wrong that raises suspicion, especially in this world where the wrong person learning the wrong thing can be disastrous. There’s the guilt of lying, of putting her loved ones in danger.

Then there’s the war, the weight of being involved with it. There’s this weight on her shoulders, that demands so much of her time and mentality, that she can’t talk to anyone about outside the Order. While she is making friends within it, she’s also arguing with others. Arguments she can’t vent about. The people she does like have enough on their plate and friendships are difficult when you’re worried about overloading them.

OOC EXPLORATION:

SHIPS/ANTI-SHIPS: My main basis for ships / anti-ships is chemistry. I rarely go in with ideas of ships beforehand, preferring to see how relationships and chemistry evolves.

WHAT PRIVILEGES AND BIASES DOES YOUR CHARACTER HAVE?

Hestia always sort of fell in-between when it comes to this point, having the sort of privilege that you don’t necessarily recognize until you look back. Her family wasn’t swimming in money and prestige like some of the wizarding families, and neither did she have the pure blood that is lauded. But as a half-blood, she didn’t fall lowest on the pecking order, with enough magic in her veins to not have to worry about being targeted for her muggle part - at least not in the way muggleborns have to worry about. Neither did her family really struggle. While the Joneses didn’t have manors and summer homes, they had a steady house in a good neighborhood. Hestia never had to worry about things like food or new clothes, there were no difficulties when she needed school supplies.

When it comes to biases, Hestia, like everyone else, has a few built in. While she is eager to work for a more just society, it is a bit harder to shed the feelings that’s been instilled in her - some that she might not even recognize. She grew up with stories and warnings that integrated themselves as part of her worldview (stay in your bed during the full moon, lest werewolves eat you, careful in forests for giants have to qualms eating you) and it’s difficult to shed biases when you don’t necessarily recognize them as such.

WHAT ARE YOU MOST LOOKING FORWARD TO?

Is saying ‘absolutely everything’ a lazy answer? Because my answer is Absolutely Everything. First of all, I think this rp has such an interesting plot and I absolutely love the premise. I think it sounds so fun to write within this world, explore the shades of grey. Second, I really love the focus on deeper character explorations and the style of longer paras (once you’ve been in one lsrp, you can’t go back). Third, everyone seems so nice and good writing partners are worth their weight in gold.

PLOT DROP IDEAS (OPTIONAL): Not at the moment, sorry!

ANYTHING ELSE?: This got a bit longer than intended, but thanks for reading!

[sending-the-message]

The part of the deep web that we aren't supposed to see. by Mr_Outlaw_

I’ll assume you all know about the deep web. Well, what you've heard is true, it's not a great place. While some people are there to score legal weed or firearms, or even out of sheer curiosity, others... well they're obviously not up to anything good. But I'm not here to talk about those sickos. I'm here to talk about what lies beyond that point. The more cryptic and unexplainable part of the internet. The part that nobody’s really supposed to see.

There was an info-graphic that cropped up a while ago. Not sure when. "The 8 levels of the internet". Maybe you've seen it. As interesting as it was, it's complete bunk. I'm sorry, but "Polymeric Falcigohl Derivation" means nothing. And the "Primarch system"? I guess somebody's a fan of Warhammer. No, there's no quantum mechanics involved here. However, that doesn't mean it was an easy place to find.

Now, I'm not going to begin to tell you how to get here. It's unlikely that'd you be able to, even if I did. I'm not tooting my own horn here, I just didn't have a life outside of this. I was warned, of course. Everybody told me I wasn’t going to like what I saw. That I wouldn’t even understand it. Now I’m passing off that warning to you. Don’t try to look for this.

There's no official name for this place, or at least I haven't seen one. There were rumors, however. These ranged from an illuminati chat room to a virtual holding cell for an experimental AI gone rouge. In reality, it’s a lot worse. After a long and painful process of breaking down firewalls, encryptions, solving bizarre philosophical riddles, and following hidden links, I was finally directed to a blank page with one line of text and a text-box underneath. "Quid quaeris?” Latin for "What do you seek?” I remember feeling surprised. But in retrospect, I didn’t know what I was expecting. I'll admit, I was a bit stumped here. Partly because I didn't know the answer to that question. I had no objective, I just wanted to see if I could do it. I tried some generic answers at first. I typed in "the truth" and "enlightenment". You know, matrix shit. Nothing happened. I tried a bunch of answers, but none of them worked. I was getting frustrated at this point. Maybe this was a gag page. Maybe I really hadn’t figured anything out. If only.

I tried something off the wall. Not sure how this came to me or why I thought it would work, but I typed in “what also seeks me”. Now that I think about it, this thing might have been an AI. To my surprise, the page went blank. Like fully blank. I waited. After about five minutes, I was directed to what looked like a forum. No, not even that. It was more basic. Just a list of links over a brownish-yellow background. The links themselves were indecipherable. Just seemingly random sequences of characters, symbols and letters. A lot of them I had never seen before. It almost looked like an alien language. Obviously, just a code I didn’t understand. At this point, expectations were off the wall. Each link was a shot in the dark. I clicked on the first one. It loaded up a live-feed of what seemed to be the Paris catacombs. I watched for a while, but it was ultimately uneventful.

I moved on to the next link. It was a shaky video in a dark setting. But I could make out men in tactical gear. They were in a house, opening doors and sweeping each room. Eventually, they kicked one down to reveal a creature. Tall and humanoid, with scaly skin. It was gnawing on a dismembered arm. They tried shooting at it, but it escaped out the window. The video stopped there. Well, I was floored. What the hell was this? It looked too real to be unreleased film footage. I was officially intrigued. Maybe this was worth the months of headaches and bloodshot eyes after all. I couldn’t stop now. I started working down the list of links. With each click, everything got more and more bizarre. More disturbing. I stumbled upon a document called “The Paragon project”, detailing trials of human experimentation that would lead to superhuman levels of strength and durability. It was an apparent success. Looked official too.

There were essays on space-time anomalies, glitches in reality, and apparent pictures of alternate dimensions. There were detailed explanations regarding Area 51, the Bermuda triangle, assassinations, disappearances, and the true nature of the Holy Grail. One of the more upsetting ones was a document referring to a “world-ending bomb”. A nuke that’s 720,000 times stronger than the one dropped on Hiroshima. I don’t want to know why we would need that. I found contingency plans for different kinds of Apocalypses - nuclear winter, biological weapons, viral outbreak. Some more peculiar ones were called “The Marianas Trench abnormality”, the bluntly labeled “Strange man on the fifteenth floor”, and one simply referred to as “Blackout”. Recovered logs of skin-walker hunting expeditions, 911 transcripts from residents of a town in Texas that went missing in 1977 and even the journals that belonged to the people involved in the Dyatlov pass incident. They didn’t go insane because of the snow.

I spent hours on there, looking through pages and pages of things I felt like I wasn’t supposed to see. I came across a trailer to a silent film made back in 1910. One that apparently made people claw their eyes out after watching that nearly derailed the whole industry. There was a live stream of a hooded man sitting in front of a camera, head crouched down. He eventually lifted his head. Even though he had no mouth, a deep, guttural, “Hello” came through my speakers. Somehow, I knew it came from him. I didn’t stick around for that. There were obscure sets of step-by-step guides that involved things like cutting off your own limbs and sewing on a corpse’s, performing religious incantations in the middle of the Siberian forest and going to coordinates that apparently housed captive fallen angels. It was unclear what any of these were supposed to achieve. There was a 20 second long clip titled “The futility of the living”. I didn’t watch it. That’s when I realized there was no way even the highest form of organized government had full control of this. One of the scariest things about this whole thing was that I didn’t find an end to the list. No matter far I scrolled down.

I think I had a meltdown and passed out eventually, because I woke up on my floor in the middle of the night. I looked at my computer screen to see looped helicopter footage of a massive, crab-like creature tearing apart a coastal island. I clicked off of it. I just sat there for the longest time. I couldn’t comprehend what I was seeing, and I don’t think I really wanted to. Now, I’m not really sure why I kept going. My brain was screaming for me to take my computer out to the lawn and smash it into pieces. But I didn’t. I noticed something I hadn’t before. A small message at the bottom left hand corner of the screen. I don’t know if it was always there or not. It was hard to read so I had to squint. More Latin. Translated into “Are you satisfied?” There were two options underneath it, yes and no.

Now, I knew the answer to this question. Hell no I wasn’t satisfied. I was horrified, scarred for life. But I should have clicked on yes. If I just clicked on yes it would have taken me out of that godforsaken place. Back to comfort and sanity. Even right now, I can’t tell you why I clicked on no. But once I did, the page seemed to refresh. It was still the same basic setup, except there were only four links. This time, there were no recognizable numbers or characters. Hell, it didn’t look like anything that could have come from this world. Just a collection of extremely crude symbols that didn’t give off any sense of pattern or direction. I clicked on the first link.

After about 20 seconds, I unplugged the computer. I can’t describe to you what I saw. All I know is that I wasn’t supposed to see it. NOBODY should ever see something like this. It’s not only that it didn’t make any sense, I can’t tell you why it didn’t. I couldn’t begin to grasp the images I was seeing. It wasn’t graphic or anything, not like that. I just couldn’t recognize anything. I could make out things moving, but not in a way any creature on earth has ever moved before. Colors that I’d never seen before. Just thinking about it gives me a splitting headache. This is the best way I can describe it. We have 3 dimensions here on earth. We can move left, right, 72.4 degrees upwards, etc. These things weren’t restricted to that. I can’t explain it any further. All I know is that I didn’t want to watch one more second. I don’t think I would have been able to.

I left my room. For the first time in a while, I was planning to leave my house. I needed fresh air. To take a walk or something. Hell, I was thinking about running a marathon in the middle of the night just to get my mind off of that shit for a few hours. I was putting on my jacket when I heard a knock at the door. I stopped dead in my tracks. Obviously, I wasn’t opening up. About a minute and five more sets of knocks came before somebody spoke up. “Open up. We know what you did, but we’re not here to hurt you. We just want to talk”. The tone wasn’t threatening. Eventually, I obliged. I opened up my door to two tall, slim men in suits. They smiled at me. “Can we come in?” I still don't know how they found me. I thought for sure that I was off the grid.

We sat down on the couch. I guess I was just waiting for answers at this point. One of them looked at me and said “What were you looking for?” “I don’t know. But I’m not going back”, I responded. He smiled again. Like this is what he wanted to hear. The other one piped up: “Who do you work for?” His tone was a bit more aggressive. I just shook my head. “Look, I didn’t know what I was getting into. I wasn’t looking for anything.” They just stared at me for a while. “I’m not gonna tell anybody. Trust me”. They finally responded: “We’re not worried about that. Doubt anybody’d believe you.” Another smile. Somehow it felt genuine. “We just wanted to know what your priorities were.” In retrospect, that was a very strange question. “Just do us favor and we’ll leave”. I perked up. “Give us the device you used to access it”. I didn’t ask any questions. I ran upstairs and basically tossed them my laptop. They both smirked at me once last time before heading for the door. Just as they were about to leave, one of them turned back. “I don’t think you need to be told, but don’t try this again. And don’t show anybody else how to get there either. We’ll know.” I didn’t ask who they were. I’m not sure I would have wanted to know.

It’s been a week now. I don’t go on the internet so much anymore. After this, I’m going to try and forget. To try and not to think about it anymore. I’ve started having horrific nightmares. Been seeing a therapist for that, but I don’t think it’s helping. Anyways, I’m not going to let this consume the rest of my life. The thing is, I’m afraid this might not be possible. There are some things we aren’t supposed to know about. Probably for our own safety and sanity. Don’t try and seek them out. It’s better that way.

[redditnosleep]

The Part of The Deep Web That We Aren’t Supposed To See

by Mr_Outlaw_

I’ll assume you all know about the deep web. Well, what you've heard is true, it's not a great place. While some people are there to score legal weed or firearms, or even out of sheer curiosity, others... well they're obviously not up to anything good. But I'm not here to talk about those sickos. I'm here to talk about what lies beyond that point. The more cryptic and unexplainable part of the internet. The part that nobody’s really supposed to see.

There was an info-graphic that cropped up a while ago. Not sure when. "The 8 levels of the internet". Maybe you've seen it. As interesting as it was, it's complete bunk. I'm sorry, but "Polymeric Falcigohl Derivation" means nothing. And the "Primarch system"? I guess somebody's a fan of Warhammer. No, there's no quantum mechanics involved here. However, that doesn't mean it was an easy place to find.

Now, I'm not going to begin to tell you how to get here. It's unlikely that'd you be able to, even if I did. I'm not tooting my own horn here, I just didn't have a life outside of this. I was warned, of course. Everybody told me I wasn’t going to like what I saw. That I wouldn’t even understand it. Now I’m passing off that warning to you. Don’t try to look for this.

There's no official name for this place, or at least I haven't seen one. There were rumors, however. These ranged from an illuminati chat room to a virtual holding cell for an experimental AI gone rouge. In reality, it’s a lot worse. After a long and painful process of breaking down firewalls, encryptions, solving bizarre philosophical riddles, and following hidden links, I was finally directed to a blank page with one line of text and a text-box underneath. "Quid quaeris?” Latin for "What do you seek?” I remember feeling surprised. But in retrospect, I didn’t know what I was expecting. I'll admit, I was a bit stumped here. Partly because I didn't know the answer to that question. I had no objective, I just wanted to see if I could do it. I tried some generic answers at first. I typed in "the truth" and "enlightenment". You know, matrix shit. Nothing happened. I tried a bunch of answers, but none of them worked. I was getting frustrated at this point. Maybe this was a gag page. Maybe I really hadn’t figured anything out. If only.

I tried something off the wall. Not sure how this came to me or why I thought it would work, but I typed in “what also seeks me”. Now that I think about it, this thing might have been an AI. To my surprise, the page went blank. Like fully blank. I waited. After about five minutes, I was directed to what looked like a forum. No, not even that. It was more basic. Just a list of links over a brownish-yellow background. The links themselves were indecipherable. Just seemingly random sequences of characters, symbols and letters. A lot of them I had never seen before. It almost looked like an alien language. Obviously, just a code I didn’t understand. At this point, expectations were off the wall. Each link was a shot in the dark. I clicked on the first one. It loaded up a live-feed of what seemed to be the Paris catacombs. I watched for a while, but it was ultimately uneventful.

I moved on to the next link. It was a shaky video in a dark setting. But I could make out men in tactical gear. They were in a house, opening doors and sweeping each room. Eventually, they kicked one down to reveal a creature. Tall and humanoid, with scaly skin. It was gnawing on a dismembered arm. They tried shooting at it, but it escaped out the window. The video stopped there. Well, I was floored. What the hell was this? It looked too real to be unreleased film footage. I was officially intrigued. Maybe this was worth the months of headaches and bloodshot eyes after all. I couldn’t stop now. I started working down the list of links. With each click, everything got more and more bizarre. More disturbing. I stumbled upon a document called “The Paragon project”, detailing trials of human experimentation that would lead to superhuman levels of strength and durability. It was an apparent success. Looked official too.

There were essays on space-time anomalies, glitches in reality, and apparent pictures of alternate dimensions. There were detailed explanations regarding Area 51, the Bermuda triangle, assassinations, disappearances, and the true nature of the Holy Grail. One of the more upsetting ones was a document referring to a “world-ending bomb”. A nuke that’s 720,000 times stronger than the one dropped on Hiroshima. I don’t want to know why we would need that. I found contingency plans for different kinds of Apocalypses - nuclear winter, biological weapons, viral outbreak. Some more peculiar ones were called “The Marianas Trench abnormality”, the bluntly labeled “Strange man on the fifteenth floor”, and one simply referred to as “Blackout”. Recovered logs of skin-walker hunting expeditions, 911 transcripts from residents of a town in Texas that went missing in 1977 and even the journals that belonged to the people involved in the Dyatlov pass incident. They didn’t go insane because of the snow.

I spent hours on there, looking through pages and pages of things I felt like I wasn’t supposed to see. I came across a trailer to a silent film made back in 1910. One that apparently made people claw their eyes out after watching that nearly derailed the whole industry. There was a live stream of a hooded man sitting in front of a camera, head crouched down. He eventually lifted his head. Even though he had no mouth, a deep, guttural, “Hello” came through my speakers. Somehow, I knew it came from him. I didn’t stick around for that. There were obscure sets of step-by-step guides that involved things like cutting off your own limbs and sewing on a corpse’s, performing religious incantations in the middle of the Siberian forest and going to coordinates that apparently housed captive fallen angels. It was unclear what any of these were supposed to achieve. There was also a 20 second long clip titled “The futility of the living”. I didn’t watch it. That’s when I realized there was no way even the highest form of organized government had full control of this. One of the scariest things about this whole experience was that I didn’t find an end to the list. No matter far I scrolled down.

I think I had a meltdown and passed out eventually, because I woke up on my floor in the middle of the night. I looked at my computer screen to see looped helicopter footage of a massive, crab-like creature tearing apart a coastal island. I clicked off of it. I just sat there for the longest time. I couldn’t comprehend what I was seeing, and I don’t think I really wanted to. Now, I’m not really sure why I kept going. My brain was screaming for me to take my computer out to the lawn and smash it into pieces. But I didn’t. I noticed something I hadn’t before. A small message at the bottom left hand corner of the screen. I don’t know if it was always there or not. It was hard to read so I had to squint. More Latin. Translated into “Are you satisfied?” There were two options underneath it, yes and no.

Now, I knew the answer to this question. Hell no I wasn’t satisfied. I was horrified, scarred for life. But I should have clicked on yes. If I just clicked on yes it would have taken me out of that godforsaken place. Back to comfort and sanity. Even right now, I can’t tell you why I clicked on no. But once I did, the page seemed to refresh. It was still the same basic setup, except there were only four links. This time, there were no recognizable numbers or characters. Hell, it didn’t look like anything that could have come from this world. Just a collection of extremely crude symbols that didn’t give off any sense of pattern or direction. I clicked on the first link.

After about 20 seconds, I slammed my computer shut. I can’t describe to you what I saw. All I know is that I wasn’t supposed to see it. NOBODY should ever see something like this. It’s not only that it didn’t make any sense, I can’t tell you why it didn’t. I couldn’t begin to grasp the images I was seeing. It wasn’t graphic or anything, not like that. I just couldn’t recognize anything. I could make out things moving, but not in a way any creature on earth has ever moved before. Colors that I’d never seen before. Just thinking about it gives me a splitting headache. This is my best attempt at visualizing it. We have 3 dimensions here on earth. We can move left, right, 72.4 degrees upwards, etc. These things weren’t restricted to that. I can’t explain it any further. All I know is that I didn’t want to watch one more second. I don’t think I would have been able to.

I left my room. For the first time in a while, I was planning to leave my house. I needed fresh air. To take a walk or something. Hell, I was thinking about running a marathon in the middle of the night just to get my mind off of that shit for a few hours. I was putting on my jacket when I heard a knock at the door. I stopped dead in my tracks. Obviously, I wasn’t opening up. About a minute and five more sets of knocks came before somebody spoke up. “Open up. We know what you did, but we’re not here to hurt you. We just want to talk”. The tone wasn’t threatening. Eventually, I obliged. I opened up my door to two tall, slim men in suits. They smiled at me. “Can we come in?” I still don't know how they found me. I thought for sure that I was off the grid.

We sat down on the couch. I guess I was just waiting for answers at this point. One of them looked at me and said “What were you looking for?” “I don’t know. But I’m not going back”, I responded. He smiled again. Like this is what he wanted to hear. The other one piped up: “Who do you work for?” His tone was a bit more aggressive. I just shook my head. “Look, I didn’t know what I was getting into. I wasn’t looking for anything.” They just stared at me for a while. “I’m not gonna tell anybody. Trust me”. They finally responded: “We’re not worried about that. Doubt anybody’d believe you.” Another smile. Somehow it felt genuine. “We just wanted to know what your priorities were.” In retrospect, that was a very strange question. “Just do us favor and we’ll leave”. I perked up. “Give us the device you used to access it”. I didn’t ask any questions. I ran upstairs and basically tossed them my laptop. They both smirked at me once last time before heading for the door. Just as they were about to leave, one of them turned back. “I don’t think you need to be told, but don’t try this again. And don’t show anybody else how to get there either. We’ll know.” I didn’t ask who they were. I’m not sure I would have wanted to know.

It’s been a week now. I don’t go on the internet so much anymore. After this, I’m going to try and forget. To try and not to think about it anymore. I’ve started having horrific nightmares. Been seeing a therapist for that, but I don’t think it’s helping. Anyways, I’m not going to let this consume the rest of my life. The thing is, I’m afraid this might not be possible. There are some things we aren’t supposed to know about. Probably for our own safety and sanity. Don’t try and seek them out. It’s better that way.

[xonceinadream]

Something Great | Heart’s Medicine One-Shot

Allison and Daniel are supposed to be happy right now. This is supposed to be something good. It's supposed to work. It might have if it wasn't for the fact that Daniel knows Allison still loves Connor. { 3,452 words } | { ao3 | ff.net }

Daniel can't help but notice that something is wrong. Things should be great right now. Allison helped save Ruth's home, Sophia delivered a healthy baby boy, the hospital is being rebuilt, and Daniel loves Allison more than ever. After everything they've been through, he thought that things would finally calm down.

They're calmer now but there's something else. Allison's been staring at the wall for the past 10 minutes. For the first few minutes, Daniel had tried to concentrate on his book but now he's simply staring at her. They've been through enough that he knows that something is wrong with her. She'd been hesitating to kiss him back for days and she'd been guarded ever since they first got back together.

Daniel's tried to deny it but he has a sinking feeling that he knows what it is. How could he not know?

"Allison?"

It rattles the entire bed when Allison jumps, turning to look at him. Daniel's again struck by how beautiful that she is, the same way that he is every time he sees her. There's something about her eyes that have always been so open to him but in the past year, she's become jaded. "Sorry. I was distracted. Were you talking?"

Daniel shakes his head, a sad smile on his lips. He doesn't really want to talk to her about this but he can't pretend anymore. He doesn't want her to have to pretend anymore. He wants what's best for her and he loves her enough to give that to her. If that hurts him more than anything ever has then he'll deal with it.

"No," Daniel says quietly, clearing her throat as Allison looks at him curiously. He takes a moment, as if to memorize her face but it's already memorized. Losing her now might be the end of him but he refuses to accept this any longer. "I want to, though."

A look of concern flashes across Allison's face before a wall drops, hiding her emotions. "Okay. What about?"

Daniel hesitates before taking a breath. No more running, he decides. That's what Allison has been saying and it's sad to him because he knows she's still running away. Now she's running from things she doesn't want to admit to. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing. What do you mean?" Allison asks, much too quickly.

"You're different. You haven't kissed me since-" Allison opens her mouth and Daniel puts up a hand to stall her. "You haven't initiated a kiss since the housewarming party. And you haven't wanted to kiss me back since before then. You've been different and I think I know why."

There's a look of rapidly growing horror on Allison's face and Daniel thinks about stopping. This is for her own good, he tells himself. She needs this and he's done being selfish when it comes to her. He almost caused her to lose her job. He owes this to her. Hell, he owes her everything.

"There's no reason. I mean, there's nothing wrong."

Daniel raises his eyebrows at her and she flushes, shifting a few inches away from him. "I've noticed for a while but it's been escalating even worse ever since the party."

"Well, Sophia going into labor stressed me out and-"

"Connor came," Daniel interrupts and Allison's jaw drops. There's guilt in her eyes, sadness, a bit of anger. "Allison, it's because of Connor, isn't it?"

Allison clenches her jaw now, letting out a slow breath and shaking her head. "I don't want to talk about Connor."

"I don't either," Daniel admits, looking at her closely. "But we have to. You've changed. You're different than you were."

"Daniel, I chose you," Allison says firmly, looking down at the book that he had been reading earlier. "What are you reading?"

Laughter threatens Daniel but the overwhelming sadness is too much for him. "Allison. Please. Don't insult my intelligence. I know I've done some stupid things but I do notice you. You didn't choose me. You chose to keep me from losing my job and that involved you losing him."

Allison looks down and Daniel waits for a response. When he can see that one isn't coming, he sighs. "Allison-"

"No," Allison finally says, looking back up and there's only anger on her face now. "I don't want to talk about it, Daniel. You're good for me. You love me. We have a great relationship, the kind that I've dreamed of since I was a little girl. I don't want to talk about Connor."

If Daniel hadn't been sure before, that statement clinches it for him. He's good for her. He loves her. She doesn't say anything about her loving him, except that she's dreamed of this kind of relationship since she was a girl. But that's not good for the future. He'd dreamed of being an astronaut when he was a kid and that would’ve been a mistake.

"I do love you," Daniel says quietly, reaching up to cup her cheek. She flinches, not as if he's going to hurt her with his hands but with his words. "Do you love me?"

Allison looks conflicted as she nods. "Of course."

Even to Daniel it sounds too rehearsed. He knows that she does love him in her own way. They have something special, a bond that can't be broken. But it's not a romantic love, at least not on her part. "Allison, you need to go to him."

"Daniel, I can't," Allison whispers and he can finally see some emotion. Now that they're talking about her with Connor, she's got tears in her eyes. Every word she says is another strike through his heart. Her not being with Connor has nothing to do with her wanting Daniel. "He's with that girl now. And besides… he wouldn't understand, he doesn't understand. He's been jealous of you all along and after everything… he doesn't trust me."

"Did you tell him anything?" Daniel asks. He knows that Allison had wanted to help Daniel keep his job but to not tell her boyfriend anything at all? Guilt threatens to overwhelm him. The girl is too nice for her own good.

Allison laughs but it's a sad one as tears start streaming down her cheeks and she reaches up to rub at them viciously. "No, Daniel. I didn't. I couldn't do that to you. By the time that everything came to a head it was too late and he didn't trust me enough to listen to me. That's his fault."

She crosses her arms over her chest and Daniel aches to pull her close and hold onto her. But this emotion that she's showing for Connor? It's the kind of emotion that he feels towards her. He has to do this and so he strengthens his resolve even as it breaks his heart. "Allison, you need to-"

"No. I don’t want to talk about it. There's nothing for me to do. We're together. Unless you're breaking up with me."

Daniel can't bring himself to actually break up with her but he can see that Allison is going to be stubborn. He rests his hands gently on her upper arms, leaning in to press a short kiss to her lips. He can feel the hesitation before she kisses back and by then he's pulling away. "Let's sleep on this conversation, okay? Meet me for lunch and we can talk tomorrow."

Suspicion is evident on Allison's face but she seems relieved as she nods. "Please… Are you sure?"

"Of course. Goodnight. I love you."

"Goodnight. I love you too."

Those words echo in Daniel's mind later even as he hacks into the hospital login to find Connor's schedule.

***

Connor's been in a bad mood for weeks and he knows it. He'd tried to hide it when he was working with kids but now he's been shoved into the radiology department until they find a permanent spot for him and he's letting his temper wreak havoc. Fortunately, he hasn't had to work with patients very much. Everybody had been only too happy to let him work in the background as much as possible.

Now, seeing Daniel step into his workspace, Connor feels his temper rising. Daniel's a good man. Connor knows that deep down. Daniel's good to Allison. He would do anything for her. But god, it doesn't make it any better. Because Connor loves her and he knows that while Daniel may be good to her, he's not good for her.

"What?" Connor asks angrily, not even looking at Daniel as he reads over paperwork that he has to finish filing before he takes lunch.

When there's only silence, Connor looks up and he's surprised by the smirk on Daniel's face. He's going to hit him. It's going to have to happen and he even pushes back his chair, prepared to stand up when Daniel laughs. "I thought it was only her."

Connor hesitates. "What the hell are you talking about and why the hell are you here?"

"I thought only she was in a mood because of you but it turns out that everybody here is scared of you. Crazy to think about. You're like a giant teddy bear with your love of children and your dog named Princess of all things. It must've taken something big to make you so grumpy with everybody who comes across you."

There's no hint of mocking in Daniel's voice but Connor doesn't trust him. "You know what's made me so angry," he bites out, letting his pen drop from his fingers as he realizes he's clenching it too tight.

Daniel shrugs. "Yeah. I just didn't realize how much it was affecting you both."

"Stop talking in riddles," Connor says, clenching his jaw as he considers how much trouble he'll get in if he decides to hit Daniel anyway, even though the man isn't smirking anymore.

Daniel sighs, sitting down in the chair across the desk from Connor and he suddenly looks so exhausted that Connor feels a twinge of sympathy. They've all been through a lot lately. There's something else in Daniel's body, though. A sadness. Even Connor can see it. "You broke up with Allison. You left her when she needed you. She had to go through a surgery without you because you were jealous and stupid."

"Get the hell out of my office, Daniel," Connor says through clenched teeth, his fingers digging into his palm as he thinks about how Daniel was right. But Connor isn't stupid. Allison kissed Daniel twice. Connor had been messed around with by girls before and he refuses to let it happen anymore.

The idiot must have a death wish though because Daniel doesn't move. "Look. I need to tell you things and they need to remain confidential. It wouldn't only be me losing my job but Allison too."

Connor frowns. "If you don't stop talking in riddles, Daniel, I swear-"

"Do you remember when I went away for a while? It wasn't a vacation. I… fell under pressure and stole a bunch of drugs from the hospital. Allison's been helping me cover it up since then. When you saw us in the broom closet, she kissed me because she thought it would be a good excuse if it was Victor who saw us." Daniel takes a breath and Connor's mind is racing a mile a minute, trying to think this through. Daniel stole drugs? "She helped me out through everything, including the bitter withdrawals. It's in the past but it's still haunting me."

Connor feels as if his world has been shaken. Allison was going through all of that without telling him? And his boss was going through all of that? Connor can't help but feel a surge of sympathy for Daniel which he quickly tries to ignore. "It doesn't matter. She kissed you. She apparently risked her entire life to help you at the expense of our relationship."

"If you think that she wouldn't have done that for a stranger then you obviously don't know her," Daniel snaps, looking angry now for the first time since he came into the room. It surprises Connor, who sits back. "She's not the best at making rational decisions but she tries to help everybody and that always gets her hurt, doesn't it? She almost died in a fire because of it."

"But she did it for you," Connor shoots back. He's learned a lot about women in his years on Earth and most of it is that they'll break your heart. Women have broken his heart enough for the rest of his life.  

Daniel scoffs, shaking his head. "You know what? You're being impossible. I just told you that she didn't want to kiss me but you're not getting it through your thick skull. She's not happy with me. I've noticed it for a while now but she's not interested in our relationship this time around. Do you know what she said when I told her? She said that I love her. That I'm good for her. That's why she's with me. What does that say?"

Conner opens his mouth but he can't think of a response. He's not even sure if one is required from him.

Then Daniel shakes his head. "Maybe I was wrong. Maybe you're not the man for her."

"Why are you doing this? She's in a relationship with you. Don't you want to just be with her?" Connor finally asks, looking up at the other man.

There's a few moments of hesitation before Daniel frowns sadly. "Of course I do. I love her. But I know when a woman isn't into me. There's no reason for us to be in a one-sided relationship. She loves you. She misses you. She thinks about you all the time." Every sentence seems to hit both men equally, causing them both different kinds of pain. "She's waiting for you in the cafeteria."

With those parting words, Daniel stands up, closing the door quietly behind him as he exits quickly. Connor looks down at the desk before picking up his pencil again. Getting back with Allison will just break his heart again. He's not sure how much more he can handle. But if what Daniel had said is true… Does she really think of Connor as much as Connor thinks of her?

***

Allison picks at her cookie, trying not to think about what Daniel had said to her yesterday. He'd told her he'd meet her here 20 minutes ago. Was this his way of breaking up with her? That isn’t very nice of him if it is. She glances up when the door opens and then looks down at her plate of now mostly crumbs. Her heart hurts just seeing Connor in the doorway.

After everything that's happened, with everything between them over now, with both having moved onto new people, Allison is shocked when Connor slides into the seat across from her. Emily immediately drops him off a coffee and Allison raises her eyebrows. "Are you that predictable?"

Connor laughs. "Apparently."

The two sit in silence for a moment as Allison looks everywhere but at Connor. He seems to be content with the silence as he looks at her and finally Allison sighs. "Why are you sitting with me? You've done everything you can to avoid me since…" She can't bring herself to say it. Since she'd kissed Daniel. It had been spur of the moment and so stupid. It had seemed like a good idea on many counts but there'd been no passion in the kiss. It had been completely because of the lie. It had proved a point for her but at such a high cost.

"Daniel came to talk to me," Connor admits and Allison's head jerks towards him so fast it causes an ache in her neck. Connor smiles slightly as he takes another sip of coffee. "He told me everything. About his… vacation."

Allison's still in shock over Daniel purposefully talking to Connor but knowing that he had told Connor everything? A warmth blooms in her chest as she thinks about why. He'd known that Allison never would betray his trust like that no matter their feelings towards each other. Had he done it because of their conversation?

"I was surprised too," Connor continues as Allison gapes at him. "I'm sorry that I didn't listen to you. You have to- Allison, you have to know how hard this is for me. I don't do this. I don't do relationships like this. I don't fall in love. Everything that I've had with a woman for years has just been for fun, no strings attached. But I care about you in a way that I didn't even think I was capable of anymore."

The words bring to mind the last time that Connor was honest with her and she so badly wishes that she'd been honest with him. She pushes her plate away from her. "Connor, I'm sorry that I didn't tell you-"

"Don't be. I would be surprised if you had. I know you, Allison," Connor says, his voice softer now and he has such genuine affection in his eyes that Allison's heart picks up its pace. "And I love you for it."

"Connor, I'm with Daniel now," Allison breathes but it's an excuse this time. She knows how Daniel feels. Daniel is exactly the kind of relationship that everybody dreams of having. He cooks her dinner and rescues her from burning buildings. He takes care of her.

But Connor smiles and her heart swells with love for him. Daniel is the safe option but Connor is the option that makes her feel whole. "Why do you think Daniel told me what he did? Alli, I love you. Tell me you'd rather be with Daniel and I'll walk away. You can have your fairytale romance that you dreamed of in high school. Everybody will envy you and you'll have a white picket fence with a gorgeous house. Is that what you want? Because I can't give you that. My cooking sucks and Princess scratches the paint off fences.

"But I'll take you to monster trucks and wrestling matches. I'll splash in puddles with you when it rains and drink beer with you under the stars. We can go to midnight premieres of movies and dress up as our favorite characters. Alli, I may not be able to give you the same things as him but I can give you all of my love."

Allison hasn't even realized that she's crying until Connor comes around to kneel in front of her, reaching up to wipe away her tears. "This isn't you," she says with a watery laugh.

Connor grins. "No. I'm not the type for flowery speeches, you're right. But I know that sometimes you need to be told how much I love you. I'm sorry I've disappointed you so much lately but I'll try as hard as I can for you."

"You don't have to change," Allison whispers as she wraps her arms around his neck, smiling softly at him. Her heart is pounding so hard it's as if it's going to burst from her chest. She's so in love with the man in front of her that it's almost painful. "I love you just the way you are, Connor."

There's no more need for words as Connor surges up, kissing her in a way that knocks her breathless. Daniel's kisses were always nice but they don't compare to Connor's. Allison wants to press closer to him, wants to never part from him but then Emily is clearing her throat behind them, grinning.

"I hate to break it up but…"

"Sorry," Allison whispers, her mouth only inches from Connor's.

"I'm not," Connor says. Allison can feel his breath hot on her lips and his words warm in her heart.

Allison closes her eyes and opens them, sure now that she's dreaming. "Connor, we should talk."

"I know. And we will. A lot of talking. For the rest of our lives hopefully."

Allison leans in to kiss him softly again before she laughs and pushes him away to go sit back on his side of the table. He sips his coffee and she asks Emily for another cookie that she actually eats this time. It feels as if a gigantic weight is off her shoulders and she can't believe how long it's been there. Connor knows the truth. Allison gets to have a chance to be honest with him. And while Daniel probably isn't completely happy for them, he supports them.

This is something happening right now. This is real. After everything they've been through, this feels like it's going to be something great.

[bigyack-com]

‘I Think This Guy Is, Like, Passed Out in His Tesla’

I discovered the videos in January. One of the first I saw was posted by the irreverent online car magazine Jalopnik. “Dangerous Idiot Sleeps While Driving His Tesla on Autopilot,” read the headline. The cellphone-captured footage did, as promised, appear to show a man snoozing in the driver’s seat of a Tesla as it zipped along a road somewhere outside Las Vegas. And because the man was asleep, it was safe to assume that navigation was indeed being handled by the car’s onboard driving-assistance system, which is called Autopilot.A few similar videos had been bouncing around the web for a while. But this year they had their moment: More and more appeared, drawing more and more attention. Other than minor variations in the background — the Massachusetts Turnpike in one, the 405 in Los Angeles in another — these clips are mostly identical. A person is holding up a phone, registering the skin-tingling oddness of what is being seen through the window of a neighboring car. You can feel, somehow, the distance between the cameraperson’s shock and the Tesla driver’s unconscious calm. Sometimes there’s commentary: “I think this guy is, like, passed out in his Tesla.” “He’s totally asleep.” “Wake up!”It would be hard to overstate these clips’ visceral strangeness. One of the most recent videos, captured in October on a stretch of Interstate 280 in California, was shot by the driver of what appears to be a Toyota Prius:After a Tesla passes him, he gives chase, phone in hand. We see the Tesla driver’s head tilted way, way back. We see the sun streaming through the window, feel it whispering, “Nap, nap, nap.” We see the landscape whipping by, the concrete barrier mere feet away. He looks asleep, he’s not waking up and he’s behind the wheel of a vehicle moving at highway speed. We hold our breath, waiting for the inevitable disaster that somehow never comes. Our perceptual template for “car moving down road” contains, it seems, a fixed slot for “conscious driver.” Seeing that slot repurposed for a nap takes a familiar tableau and scrambles it into something uncanny and charged with menace. The cellphone quality only heightens the effect: It’s like those scenes from disaster movies in which stone-faced government officials review low-quality footage of an alarming new threat.Tesla’s response to these videos has been consistent: Autopilot is meant to function as a complement to a conscious driver, not a replacement. If you don’t keep a hand on the wheel, your Tesla is supposed to beep at you; eventually it’s supposed to slow to a stop and put its hazard lights on. Anyway, who knows if these clips were real? Couldn’t some of them be the work of pranksters? But of course you can still fall asleep with a hand on the wheel — or you can go on YouTube and watch Tesla drivers swap tips for using a water bottle or custom “cellphone holder” to fool the system. Tesla’s own public stance on Autopilot has been muddled, with the company sometimes issuing statements that the cars possess “full self-driving” capability. As recently as 2016, the company posted video of a hands-free highway journey from a home to a parking spot outside a Tesla office, complete with a proud preamble: “The person in the driver’s seat is only there for legal reasons. He is not doing anything. The car is driving itself.”What’s fascinating is the way the sci-fi novelty of Autopilot — combined with the deep familiarity of old-fashioned driving — manages to warp our danger-detecting radar. There are instances in which investigators have found that the Autopilot system contributed to crashes, but none of those have been captured on film. Besides, driving is already one of the more dangerous activities Americans undertake on a daily basis. According to the National Highway Traffic Safety Administration, “drowsy driving” was a factor in 91,000 crashes, resulting in 50,000 people injured and 810 deaths in 2017, so it’s theoretically possible that what some of these videos are showing us is disaster averted, not disaster in motion. (It’s also not a great idea to try filming what other people are doing on the road while you yourself are trying to drive on it.) There’s no video genre of people sleeping in cars like my 2010 Honda Civic for the simple reason that, if I fall asleep in my 2010 Honda Civic, I’m going to crash before anyone has time to pick up a phone.And yet: Tesla Sleeper videos are undeniably anxiety-inducing. The reasons for this may have as much to do with trust as with the mechanics of driving. Tesla once generated widespread good will by promising affordable electric cars that would make the world cleaner and safer. But over time, its image was tarnished by missed deadlines, worrying crash reports, signs of a cultlike corporate culture and a chief executive, Elon Musk, who habitually exaggerates progress while announcing extravagant new ideas. This was hardly the institution you would want determining the future of highway safety.As with Tesla, so with tech in general. Until recently, the promise of Silicon Valley transforming everything was greeted with some optimism. Technology was supposed to make the world more efficient, convenient and responsive to our desires — for information, for entertainment, for connection with people who might share our politics or our beds. Even when we didn’t use the latest platform or app, we tended to regard it as frivolous at worst.Now, though, we have learned to be suspicious. These technologies — and the companies that engineer them — keep turning out to be less benign than imagined. We fell in love with Amazon, but now we miss the local stores it closed. We couldn’t resist the convenience of Uber and Lyft, but now we’ve seen their effect on public transit and drivers. “Jetsons”-esque smart-home technology turned out to be riddled with glitches and vulnerable to hackers. Tech companies have hollowed out old industries, shredded privacy, disregarded regulations and created new vectors for the spread of misinformation and extremism, and now there is a sense that choices we have already made — tectonic shifts already in motion, terms of service already accepted — may be changing us in ways that we are only beginning to process, ready to leap up and bite us in the collective behind.It’s hard to imagine a more potent visual metaphor for this feeling than a human lulled to sleep inside a hunk of metal and glass, hurtling down a highway under the control of proprietary algorithms beamed on board from Palo Alto. These videos are magnetic not just because of the eerie images they contain, but also because, watching them, we can’t actually be sure what we’re seeing. Is this danger or safety or both at once? Perhaps in a different era we would have cried out in excitement: How cool! Today we are more tempted to gasp in shock and call out a warning: Wake up! 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[kokaniaproduct]

6 Fun Facts About the History of the Alabama Crimson Tide

What incited you to compose your book "Jumper"?

I got a bring in mid-2007, it was the BBC. They stated, "We comprehend you kept journals from when you were in the Falklands strife yet have not understood them yet?" I said yes I did, and I haven't understood them, however, how would you know? They gave me the old, we don't unveil our sources, and so on.

At that point, they stated, " We might want to come and film you perusing them just because and put it on TV." I truly had never understood them, truth be told, all I knew was they were in the space someplace. I pondered it for some time and talked about it with my significant other and chose I would do it. pilot men's grooming

They came and we did it and it went on BBC Breakfast.

At the point when they left, the maker and cameraman said what a splendid story it was, and I should record everything, you know, fill in the holes. Indeed, I hadn't ever pondered it. In any case, I began that night and it just streamed out of me. Day and night for around 10 months, I composed and re-expounded on my jumping life. About the concentrated preparing, the Navy required to turn into a 'Slippery Beaky' assault swimmer. Getting prepared in re-breathers that give out no air pockets, empowering you to harm ships, or work on mines concealed and undetected.

Have any journalists impacted your composition?

I do peruse a great deal yet I wouldn't state anybody affected me. I didn't generally design it. I simply occurred and I discovered I could do it, I could recount to a story.

Do you jump recreationally, and if so which is your preferred plunge site?

I have never done a recreational jump. Indeed, that isn't actually valid. I dragged my child around the pool in Thailand a couple of years back. That is it. In any case, there is a purpose behind it, and that is, I've done a lot of as of now.

In anticipation of composing the book, I broke out the majority of my plunging logbooks, realizing very well indeed I may discourage myself. I began including my hours in an immersion chamber. Over a fifteen-year sat jumping vocation, I did around 900 days, or more than two years, in loads the world over. You can get not as much as that for outfitted theft.

That is 21,600 hours in a chamber you can't walk more than a few paces in, with typically seven other men who might, now and again, smell and sound like nourishing time at the monkey haven. Remove say 100 days for decompression and terrible climate. That leaves us with 19,200 hours or 800 working days.

State a normal jumping day of six hours, and that allows us 4,800 hours or 200 full 24-hour days entirely the water.

Six and a half months either blowing air pockets or in the ringer. Six and a half months wet.

Presently I'm in no way, shape or form the most productive jumper; there are folks out there that either can't get enough plunging or cash, and they would destroy my hours. None of those hours, days, many months even incorporate a large number of air and blended gas jumps I've done. Not that I wish I had accomplished more. Not in the least, that is very enough for me. In such time, have I at any point discovered a gold coin or a virgin wreck?

I've discovered an ice chest in the Irish Sea that I was told while wearing my rigging, was 'unquestionably, 100% completely surely a mine'. I've discovered Spitfire motors in Greece, a Jeep in the South Pacific, and anglers pilots still inside their art, however, I've not so much discovered what I was searching for as a youngster. That bit of riddle is still there, perhaps in light of the fact that I don't have the foggiest idea what it resembles. I know I'm in an inappropriate industry. You are, all things considered, improbable to discover anything secretive in the oil business or chasing for mines.

What was your most noticeably terrible plunging background?

I've had a couple of 'most exceedingly awful jumps.' This was my first regularly plunging knowledge with the Royal Navy (which is in the book).

I missed the morning class about how the air set functioned and what to do in case of coming up short on air. While getting a brisk brief before entering the water I discovered something about 'adjusting'. I thought he implied my ears. Oh dear, he wasn't worried about my ears by any means. In the Navy, in the event that you are wearing an air set, you don't have a check on it. You start your jump with just one jug open and inhale typically until it goes tight and begins to run out. On the off chance that you, at that point open your other full container, the air between the two 'evens out' - you can hear it very well submerged as a tinny murmuring sound. The sound will lessen, and when you close the valve. Presently you have two half-full containers. You inhale down the one container again and do a similar when it gets tight. Presently you have 'evened out twice'; you have about a fourth of your unique air left and you come up. Straightforward!

Basic on the off chance that you know this, at any rate. I missed all that since I was not able or reluctant to control the climate, and was late. The opening of the valve activity was never transferred to me.

I surmise I was around 100 feet out toward the finish of my lifesaver when my air began to go tight. No, it can't be, the central jumper said it should last about 60 minutes. An hour hasn't passed by as of now, has it, and in any case, they would ring me (four pulls), wouldn't they? Now, my short life flashed before me.

I am oversensitive to not breathing, so I did what all balanced, ordinary reasoning individuals would do in this circumstance. I froze. pilot men's grooming

I looked around for my help and finned and dismantled myself to the surface as fast as possible. You are obviously intended to inhale out on a controlled moderate climb or you may give yourself a curve or burst a lung. However, I had nothing to inhale out, my lungs were at that point unfilled. Air hunger, or the inclination to inhale, is without a doubt one of the most grounded human responses we have and you 'will' take uncommon activities to empower breathing once more. Aided by a huge part of adrenalin, initiated by the likelihood of passing on, I hit the surface going maximum capacity and evacuated my cover in one quick development. Truth be told, the veil may even have been off before I broke the surface. Anyway, it was in an altogether amateurish way.

I was voyaging so quick I figure I left the water up to my midsection. That first admission of breath, that sweet taste of air and water was the most profound I have taken so far in my 48 years. Pant doesn't do it equity and I don't figure you can record the commotion I made. It was presumably along the lines of the mating call of a randy caribou. The thing is, I hadn't depended on gravity taking a hold of me now I was quickly out of the water once more, however, it did, and as I descended from my break, I went under once more. This was getting to be excruciating.

The jumpers on the quay saw this thing shooting out of the water at that point vanish once more, and immediately for thought, three of them started pulling me, close by over-hand as quick as possible.

The line I was appended to was tied in an anchor on my shoulder, and with my weight-belt and jugs on I took off dangerously fast towards the pier. My speed was so extraordinary in reality that a bow wave conformed to my head and I got myself submerged and unfit to inhale once more. Just this time I was at a misfortune with respect to what to do to cure the circumstance. As I went out I just trusted I would before long be at the wharf. Indeed, I later discovered that it was my quick and un-padded appearance back at the solid pier that may well have thumped me out.

I came to lying in the recuperation position and spewing over some huge boots. The central jumper was clearly stressed over me and demonstrated his worry by hollering into my face,

'You've not evened out once yet! For what reason didn't you even out?'

'I did clear my ears, boss.'

'Not your ears, you muppet, your containers, same as we did in the study hall toward the beginning of today.'

'I wasn't ... Hurl ... here at the beginning of today.' As the second aiding of dockyard water and leaves and oil came up and out of me everywhere throughout the central's boots, I could see the unfolding of acknowledgment move over his face. 'This was my shortcoming.' pilot men's grooming

To give him credit, however, his frame of mind quickly changed from one of outrage to regretful concern. I was enveloped by a cover and given hot tea and rushed off to sickbay, where I went through a day on twist watch, to check whether anything created, and three days in the clinic, hurling dockyard debris and practically got back-classed from my essential preparing unit for sure. On the off chance that that occurred, I would need to drop back about fourteen days and start again with a totally new admission. I returned the following week however and attempted once more, and consistently for the following ten weeks. Why? Since I was going to pass, it is the main answer I can give.

Is it accurate to say that you are arranging another book?

The upgraded one is practically wrapped up. All things considered, state another 10,000 words. I'm on 111,000 at this very moment. It is a novel. I considered the time we had a Brit plunging legend. Dirk Pitt has had everything his own specific manner excessively long. Along these lines, It's about an Ex Royal Navy Mine Clearance Diver, (Shock ghastliness).

What are you doing now?

Regardless I do some North Sea stuff, when I can't in any way, shape or form maintain a strategic distance from it. Yet, I am fixated on getting this new book wrapped up. I am attempting to get an abstract specialist right now. Truth be told, I'm holding on to hear, 'Yae or Nae' at the present time. On the off chance that he says Yea, I will attempt to compose professionally. I have done a couple of converses with clubs and after supper stuff, principally about plunging. My greatest was at the BSAC yearly gathering. There were around 500 there. pilot men's grooming

About Tony Groom

Conceived in Hillingdon, Middlesex (UK) in 1959, Tony Groom found his interest in the ocean while at Monk's Park thorough school in Bristol. I began with Sea Scouts, at that point ocean cadets lastly mentioned to go to T.S tireless, a nautical life experience school in North Wales. In 1975 joined the Royal Navy to turn into a Clearance Diver (CD). (A large number joined to turn into a jumper in Portsmouth, generally, just 1% endure.) Qualified as a mine leeway jumper in 1976.

"In 1976, I joined the Clyde submarine base freedom, plunging group. A few pieces of the group jumped consistently. We plunged on atomic submarines, changed their propellers, and so on, I invested a ton of energy wet! We would go through weeks visiting.

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[isabellebrookspopularmusics-blog]

INTRO

“Intro” isn’t just a horribly unimaginative title for the opening of my look into the now critically acclaimed band, the Xx. Instead, it’s the first song on the South London trio’s debut album, and a suitable starting point as it was my earliest impression of a sound that immediately worked its way into my heart. First hearing the 2-minute, lyric-less track I was instantly seduced by the moody indolence of a simple guitar riff, blurry keyboard, and a bass subtle but deep enough to feel like it’s flowing through your whole body. The poignant directness of the music alone was like nothing I’d come across and it set the stage for the experience that is The Xx.

Having known each other since childhood, Romy Madley Croft, Oliver Sim, and Jamie Smith share a closeness that’s reflected in the cohesion of their sound. Making music began as something that they did for themselves because they loved it, never anticipating that anyone else would hear it, let alone the international success they would attain. After releasing their self-titled first album in 2009, the band quickly rose to popularity; The Guardian named them the top record and they were awarded the UK Mercury Prize for best British album of the year.

Unlike a lot of popular music, their songs often have a somber tone and are riddled with melancholy lyrics about love lost and personal struggles. I can see why some people would steer away from The Xx in favor of a more predictable, shall I say uncomplicated, artist like Drake (for whom the word ‘yeah’ comprised a solid 20 minutes of his most recent album, Views). But something they have in common is that their music projects a sense of vulnerability. There’s a reason why these unlikely introverts, who have managed to keep their personal lives almost completely out of the limelight, have risen to success based on true artistry. Their music has the power to resonate with people on a deeply emotional level; it can make you feel heartbroken on a sunny day but you still love it because it’s so moving.

From their first album in 2009, to their second in 2012, titled Coexist, and now with their long anticipated, recently released third album, I See You, The Xx have managed to stay true to their original consciousness, while expanding their music and developing their style. By taking a deeper look into these albums, I hope to share an understanding of why this band has come to mean so much to me, as I think they have with many across the world.

 THE BEGINNING

Along with their first album came their major hit, “Crystalised.” The song opens with an ethereal tone accompanied by a characteristic bass riff as Sim’s voice, even and sensual, leads in and then switches to Croft, who’s sound couldn’t possibly be a better counterpart; the tempo picks up as the two sing together in the chorus. The song has the palpable tension of a toxic relationship that’s fueled with passion but doomed to go up in flames. As with all of their songs, despite the complementary nature of their voices you never get the impression that the duo are yearning for each other, and instead that they’re dealing with the same problem separately. This is likely due to the fact that they write independently and collaborate for a final product. It’s this quality I think that makes their songs so stirring; when you listen to them you feel as if you’re in their position and get the sense of the loneliness that comes with a broken heart rather than intruding on someone else’s love affair.

While “Crystalised” is the standout track of their first album, “Stars” (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qyIHQsP9xIE) and “Basic Space” (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kHZVGqqf3gg) are equally as notable and also intensely emotive. The album is in many ways musically very simple–which the members attribute to the fact that they just weren’t very good musicians at that point–but the simplicity adds an undeniable layer of sincerity. It also paved the way for their second, more technically accomplished album, Coexist, that I would argue, uncompromisingly, is one of the best ever made (at least in my book).

THE XX MADE ME CRY IN PUBLIC

I’ve never been one to cry openly but I’ll never forget the way I felt when I saw the Xx live at a music festival. It was right after the release of Coexist and I forced my friends to push our way to front of the crowd hours before their set began so we’d be as close as physically possible. They walked on stage, dressed all in black, opened with their song “Angels” (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_nW5AF0m9Zw), and I knew it was going to be seriously good; the very nature of their sound combined with massive speakers in a live setting felt like their music was reverberating straight to my core.  It was when they played my favorite song, “Sunset”, that I surprised myself and uncharacteristically lost it. The song begins with a heavy drumbeat produced by Jamie, which becomes the heartbeat of the entire song, and is shortly followed by Romy’s striking guitar chords, and by the time the vocals began I could feel tears streaming down my cheeks. The stranger next to me put his hand on my shoulder and with concern asked if I was alright and I responded telling him how moved I was. I always tell people about that when they ask what the best concert I’ve ever seen was. The song “Sunset” has a marked sense of loss:

 I always thought it was sad–the way we act like strangers after all that we had. We act like we had never met.

And

I always thought it was a shame that we have to play these games. It felt like you really knew me. Now it feels like you see through me.

 The lyrics and the overall feeling created by the tone of the song capture the impression of the void left after a relationship that you put everything into.  

The rest of the album is filled with similar tragic melodies but, again, is musically captivating and keeps you wanting more. Regardless of your past experiences, the xx has the ability to make you sad about an ex you’ve never even had. You could ask why anyone would want to listen to something that makes you feel this way, but to me true art is anything that can make you feel something really intensely and the xx does this perfectly.

A CHANGE IN TONE

A lot has happened for the band in the nearly five years that passed between the release of their second and third albums. During that period Jamie did extensive solo work as a producer and in 2015 released his very successful album In Colour under the name Jamie Xx (http://www.allmusic.com/artist/jamie-xx-mn0002602648/biography and https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=r7gmVWgEpRc). The progress Jamie made musically pushed them to new levels as a group and led to a notable difference in their overall sound and complexity. While they still maintain true to their foundation, it’s as if they’ve stepped out of the darkness with a bolder, unfettered sense of honesty on I See You. The album’s opening track, “Dangerous” (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PZCCey_22ws) begins with horns and a deep house beat, much more optimistic than any of their previous work. The message of the song is similar to that of “Crystalised,” talking about a precarious relationship:

They say we're in danger But I disagree If proven wrong, shame on me But you've had faith in me So I won't shy away Should it all fall down You'll have been my favorite mistake

 But instead of seeming timid and fatalist it takes on a more determined nature in sound and lyrics that sets the vibe for the whole album.

The first single released from the album, “On Hold,” has a similar quality and is indicative of Jamie’s growth, featuring sampling from Hall and Oates and more intricate melodies. The beat is faster and the timbre less downcast but it still hits you in the same way emotionally as some of their earlier work. It’s the story of a love that seemed like destiny but with neglect it faded away. It has a very perceptible feeling of regret and longing but without the sense that the unshakeable misery is the end all.

Despite their newfound light, stripped back tracks like “Performance” and “Brave For You” are very much evocative of Coexist.

“A Violent Noise” is arguably one of the better tracks on the new album (yeah–this one made me cry too). Rather than focusing on love troubles, it centers on the feeling of being torn up inside and not knowing how to cope with it:

With every kiss from a friend With everything I pretend not to feel Am I too high? Am I too proud? Is the music too loud for me to hear?

Now I go out But every beat is a violent noise Dries my eye With every beat comes a violent noise The melody sung And I don't know the voice Now I go out But every beat is a violent noise

The echoing guitar chords and Oliver’s inflection when he sings “Am I too high? Am I too proud? Is the music too loud” are completely haunting. The background music creates a cloud that evokes the sensation of being enveloped by losing your way and looking for an escape from the torment. With the recent release of the album, the band has also openly discussed Oliver’s struggle with alcohol. Unlike their other songs, this seems very much like it’s being sung from his perspective specifically while Romy’s verses sound pleading, which could be a reference to his experience.

Overall, I See You’s polychromatic nature offers a new level of artistry and suggests the The xx’s capability of being more than just melancholy while still conveying an emotional intensity.

OUTRO?

Unlike a lot of popular artists who push their music and their “brand,” there’s an anonymity to The xx that adds to their success; it allows you to make the music about your own experiences and taps into feelings you didn’t even know you felt. Although it’s a completely cliché play on the title of their newest album, The xx sees me in a way that I don’t think any other band possibly could and for that I’m grateful.

  Works cited

Auxtelevision. YouTube. AUX, 29 Aug. 2012. Web. 10 Feb. 2017. <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1mJR9Q-F_oU>.

Gaerig, Andrew. "The xx ." The xx: xx Album Review | Pitchfork. N.p., 28 Aug. 2009. Web. 11 Feb. 2017. <http://pitchfork.com/reviews/albums/13400-xx/>.

Monger, James Christopher. "The xx Biography." AllMusic. N.p., n.d. Web. 11 Feb. 2017. <http://www.allmusic.com/artist/the-xx-mn0002016312>.

O'Brien, Jon. "Jamie xx Biography." AllMusic. N.p., n.d. Web. 11 Feb. 2017. <http://www.allmusic.com/artist/jamie-xx-mn0002602648/biography>.

Snapes, Laura. "I'll Be Your Mirror: How the xx Found Themselves-and Their Vibrant New Sound-in Each Other." Pitchfork. N.p., 28 Dec. 2016. Web. 13 Feb. 2017. <http://pitchfork.com/features/cover-story/9997-ill-be-your-mirror-how-the-xx-found-themselvesand-their-vibrant-new-soundin-each-other/>.