#and for teaching me how to avoid tendonitis

[frustror]

the face that looks back at him now, even wrapped half beneath a swath of bandages, is unmistakably familiar. the first time zeke saw him, he'd said his brother looked nothing like their father, their shared stain, the withering, poisonous branch of the family tree. that same statement isn't necessarily true now, is it? beneath eren's gaze, too near to the ghost that haunts them both, he is suddenly relegated back to that place, shrinking in his seat at the table, turning back behind him at training to catch the disappointment, the disdain that rolled off his father in waves, washed over zeke's head and swallowed him beneath it, filling his eyes, his ears, his lungs. in eren's face, there is the man he has always hoped to avoid in his own.

he does not ever want to turn to his brother and find that same glint of disgust, sharp as a blade, cutting, in his eyes. the world has done nothing but teach zeke to be someone else, someone colder, to make a second self, but eren is the one who can split him open. he is the match in the dark, the missing piece where zeke has broken himself long ago.

he has tied the string of fate between them himself, when he vowed to come back for him. he will save him from their father's planted parasite, sever the ties that bind. the same way ksaver had done with him. zeke has always been fated to be the messiah, the one who will come to deliver eldia from her suffering. but since that day, salvation has seemed more singular: he will save eren, and then together, they will save the world. written in blood, it was always meant to be this way.

@praesidi says: i don’t want you to save me. i want to save myself.

it's as if eren can see through him, down to the marrow of his making. perhaps he's grown too transparent, his eagerness to trust turning him raw, exposing the tendons, flaying him. he takes it as their father speaking, the years of brainwashing slipping from his tongue. or maybe it's the stubborness of a mother, a woman zeke never knew. eren is headstrong, young. he thinks he does not need to be saved, thinks he can survive their shared poison alone. he does not know zeke is the antidote.

he hums thoughtfully, watching his expression. his own does not shift, is steeled against any disappointment at his words. " how about we save each other? " he smiles, tossing the baseball in his hands from one palm to another. brothers, he thinks. this is how they're supposed to be, isn't it? eren will come around soon enough. he will let zeke make him whole again. he chuckles, " i think that sounds much better, don't you? poetic, isn't it? "

[22-ayur]

Knee Pain Treatment in Dubai

Introduction to Knee Pain

Knee pain is a common issue that can arise from various conditions, such as arthritis, injury, or overuse. It can affect people of all ages and activity levels. The knee joint is one of the most complex and heavily used joints in the body, making it susceptible to pain and injury. Understanding the root cause of your knee pain is crucial for effective treatment. Knee Pain Treatment in Dubai

Why Choose 22ayur for Knee Pain Treatment?

22ayur is renowned for its holistic approach to treating knee pain. Here’s why you should consider 22ayur for your knee pain treatment:

Expert Practitioners: Our team includes experienced Ayurvedic doctors and physiotherapists.

Personalized Treatment Plans: We tailor our treatments to meet your specific needs.

Holistic Approach: We combine traditional Ayurvedic treatments with modern physiotherapy techniques.

Comprehensive Care: From diagnosis to rehabilitation, we provide complete care for knee pain relief.

Understanding Knee Pain: Causes and Symptoms

Causes of Knee Pain

Arthritis: Osteoarthritis and rheumatoid arthritis are common causes.

Injuries: Ligament tears, meniscus injuries, and fractures can lead to knee pain.

Overuse: Repetitive activities or excessive strain can cause conditions like tendonitis.

Bursitis: Inflammation of the bursae, small fluid-filled sacs in the knee, can cause pain.

Symptoms of Knee Pain

Swelling and Stiffness: Common indicators of inflammation.

Redness and Warmth: Signs of an underlying issue.

Weakness or Instability: Difficulty in bearing weight or walking.

Popping or Crunching Noises: Often associated with injuries or arthritis.

Holistic Approach to Knee Pain at 22ayur

At 22ayur, we believe in treating the root cause of knee pain rather than just the symptoms. Our holistic approach includes:

Comprehensive Assessment: Detailed evaluation to understand your condition.

Customized Treatment Plans: Tailored to your specific needs and goals.

Integration of Therapies: Combining Ayurvedic treatments, physical therapy, and lifestyle changes.

Ayurvedic Treatments for Knee Pain

Abhyanga

A full-body massage using herbal oils to improve circulation and reduce inflammation in the knee joint.

Janu Basti

A specialized Ayurvedic treatment where warm medicated oil is applied and retained around the knee joint to reduce pain and stiffness.

Kizhi

A technique involving the use of herbal poultices to alleviate pain and promote healing.

Pizhichil

A therapy that involves pouring warm medicated oil over the body while simultaneously performing a gentle massage, beneficial for joint pain.

Physical Therapy and Rehabilitation

Our physical therapy and rehabilitation programs are designed to:

Strengthen Muscles: Improving the support around the knee joint.

Increase Flexibility: Ensuring better movement and reduced pain.

Enhance Mobility: Helping you regain your ability to perform daily activities.

Prevent Recurrence: Educating you on exercises and practices to avoid future knee issues.

Diet and Lifestyle Recommendations

A balanced diet and healthy lifestyle play a crucial role in managing knee pain. At 22ayur, we provide:

Nutritional Guidance: Recommending anti-inflammatory foods and supplements.

Weight Management: Advising on maintaining a healthy weight to reduce stress on the knees.

Exercise Routines: Suggesting low-impact exercises like swimming and cycling.

Posture and Ergonomics: Teaching correct postures and ergonomic practices to prevent strain.

Patient Success Stories

Maria P.

"I had been suffering from chronic knee pain for years. The treatments at 22ayur were life-changing. The combination of Ayurvedic therapy and physical rehabilitation helped me get back on my feet."

Rajesh V.

"After a sports injury, I struggled with knee pain. The personalized care and holistic approach at 22ayur made a huge difference. I’m now pain-free and back to my active lifestyle."

Frequently Asked Questions

1. How long does it take to see results from knee pain treatment at 22ayur?

The time frame varies depending on the individual and the severity of the condition, but many patients start noticing improvements within a few sessions.

2. Are the Ayurvedic treatments safe?

Yes, all treatments at 22ayur use natural and safe methods, tailored to individual health conditions. Knee Pain Treatment in Dubai

3. Can I combine Ayurvedic treatments with conventional medicine?

Absolutely. We encourage a holistic approach and can work alongside your existing medical treatments.

4. Is physical therapy painful?

Physical therapy aims to reduce pain, not increase it. Any discomfort should be minimal and temporary.

5. How do I book an appointment at 22ayur?

You can easily book an appointment through our website or by calling our reception.

How to Book Your Appointment

Ready to take the first step towards a pain-free life? Booking your appointment at 22ayur is simple. Visit our website, select your preferred treatment, and choose a convenient time. Our team is here to help you every step of the way.

Conclusion

Knee Pain Treatment in Dubai - 22ayur offers a comprehensive and effective solution for those suffering from knee pain. With a blend of Ayurvedic therapies, physical rehabilitation, and personalized care, 22ayur stands out as a leading choice for knee pain treatment. Don’t let knee pain hold you back any longer. Take action today and experience the relief and improved quality of life that comes with expert treatment at 22ayur

[mvprehab]

Sports Physiotherapy

Sports physiotherapy near me is a great way to treat injuries and improve performance. A sports physiotherapist will evaluate your condition, treat the injury and teach you how to prevent it from coming back. Some sports injuries are serious, such as an Achilles tendon injury or a shoulder impingement.

Symptoms of Achilles tendonitis

It is a well-known fact that a sports physiotherapist will need to be able to properly diagnose and treat the symptoms of Achilles tendonitis. The pain and swelling can range from a mild inconvenience to an intense disabling condition.

Often, the condition occurs when the Achilles tendon is overloaded and weakened. This could be caused by improper technique or muscle imbalance. In addition, misaligned joints can put added strain on the Achilles.

To accurately diagnose the cause of the pain, a physiotherapist will perform a thorough examination of the ankle, foot and leg. They will also look at your medical history. They will be able to determine the diagnosis and recommend a treatment plan.

During the treatment, a therapist will release the tight muscles, stretch and improve flexibility. They will then create a program of exercises to strengthen the lower leg and Achilles.

If the tendon is ruptured, it needs to be dealt with as soon as possible. If the Achilles tendonitis isn't treated, it can lead to degeneration of the tendon's fibres.

Treatment for shoulder impingement

Shoulder impingement is a condition that occurs when the muscles of the shoulder become inflamed. It is a common ailment that affects active adults. Symptoms may be worse after lying down or sleeping on the affected side.

Impingement is most often caused by overuse. However, there are other causes of the condition. If you are experiencing symptoms, you should seek medical attention.

A doctor will review your medical history, perform a physical exam and order x-rays. X-rays can help rule out other conditions that may cause shoulder pain. An MRI can be ordered to identify tears in rotator cuff tendons.

Physiotherapy can help ease shoulder impingement. Your therapist will work on the strength of the muscles in your shoulder and increase its range of motion. You will also learn how to reduce the inflammation of your shoulder.

You can also use ice packs to reduce the inflammation. Apply the ice to the affected shoulder for 20 minutes at a time twice a day.

Treatment for Achilles tendonitis

When an Achilles tendonitis problem occurs, there are some things you can do to relieve pain and speed up the healing process. Treatment usually involves an individualized exercise program. You can also use non-steroidal anti-inflammatory drugs (NSAIDs) to help reduce swelling. However, you should consult your doctor before taking any medications.

You should also seek out the services of a sports physiotherapist to diagnose and treat your problem. A therapist will perform a complete evaluation of your calf, ankle, and heel. He or she will also perform tests such as an x-ray or ultrasound.

Your therapist will work with you to create a treatment plan that is customized to your needs. In addition to exercises, your therapist may suggest a brace or orthotic to help your Achilles tendon heal.

If you have Achilles tendonitis, you should avoid activities that are too strenuous. You should also take care to rest your Achilles tendon. Although resting the tendon can provide short term relief, complete rest can make the problem worse.

Treatment for tennis elbow

Tennis elbow is a common overuse injury that affects the outside (lateral) part of the elbow. Its symptoms include pain, inflammation, and weakness. This condition is not serious and can be treated with rest, ice, and physical therapy.

The first step to treating tennis elbow is to reduce the inflammation. Using ice and compression can help relieve pain and control the inflammation. If your symptoms are not severe, you may be able to use Ibuprofen to manage the pain. You can also ask your doctor about prescription medications.

Exercises can also improve the strength and flexibility of the affected muscles. A physiotherapist can recommend exercises that are appropriate for your situation. He can also suggest an elbow brace, which can limit strain on your elbow.

Some patients are able to heal on their own. However, others need treatment to ease their pain. There are many options, including a wrist brace.

Physiotherapy can be effective in more serious cases. In addition to strengthening and stretching the affected muscles, physiotherapy can also decrease pain.

[watermelonlipstick]

Dreams, Chapter 14

If you haven’t read this series before, you might want to start on Chapter 1, or check out the Dreams Masterlist! Here’s the series description:

When Dean dies for good leaving Sam and his girlfriend (the reader) behind, they must figure out how to carry on without him. Alone, reeling, and unsure what to do next, trying to honor Dean’s memory and follow their hearts gets even more complicated when their nightmares become dreams that feel a little too real.

Title: Dreams, Chapter 14

Pairing: (past) Dean Winchester x Reader, (eventual) Sam Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 1976

Summary: Once more, a moment at the bar shifts the relationship between Sam and the reader irrevocably. 

Warnings: angst, FLUFF, swearing, s l o w  b u r n, this section has a little gentle smut 

           It was sweet, actually, taking things slowly enough that Sam didn’t feel an acute sense of betraying Dean. You started kissing in stolen moments like teenagers, accidentally honking the horn of the Impala before taking over from the day shift and walking in shyly with swollen lips and mussed hair, tasting the orange juice off of his lips after breakfast.

           Never more than that save a fumbled glancing grope here or there, Sam sometimes having to break away for a long walk in the brisk winter air before going to sleep with you at night, you taking extended showers to deal with the building tension. He simply wasn’t ready, and the additional closeness was already so much more than you’d had anyway, almost too much stimulation to handle. Not that it really made sense to you, that this was somehow different in his mind, but it didn’t matter.

           Dean came to you in your dreams with increasing regularity. He started teaching you how to go to places you hadn’t been, or hadn’t been with him, slowly reconstructing the bar and the cabin so you could show him around your new life. Sam had been right, of course, and Dean did love the bar as you showed it to him, scuffed floors and ever-present stickiness of the cash register included.

           It felt pretty real. And who’s to say it wasn’t, because it was really Dean and it was really you, the whiskey really poured and made his lips taste peaty like they always had. More than that, it was enough. You were able to relish your time together, drink Dean in while you slept feeling less desperate knowing that you’d see him again soon. The days got easier too, waking up warm inside from Dean and outside from the firm protection of Sam’s body. Neither Winchester ever told you what they did or talked about in their time together, but Sam got looser and looser. You had almost forgotten how goofy he could be, how enthusiastic and fun he was Before Everything, but the longer he spent dreaming with Dean the more he reminded you of that guy—the affectionate, quick-witted boy you’d split cans of Spaghetti-o’s with at Bobby’s a lifetime ago.  

           Going to work felt like a little game sometimes. Periodically one of the customers would comment on the way Sam always seemed to wait until you were right in front of the fruit before going to refill it so he had to press the length of his body against yours. Often you’d have to help him finish his side work before closing up together, having hung off him all night in a way that prevented him from getting everything done until it was just the two of you together in the darkened bar cutting up limes as your shoulders brushed against each other. The regulars thought you were finally comfortable enough to show them a little PDA, that you’d been secretly like this all along, and there was no other explanation you could give them. Like everything else, you rolled with their assumptions and got that same giddy-hot feeling in your chest and throat every time they said it—like you were being teased about some juvenile crush.

           The Wednesday it finally happened you were having a normal day at work, catching those little jabs after Sam snaked a bottle opener out of your back pocket while you rattled a shaker of martinis. He kissed your hair with a smirk when he passed by you, carefully not jostling your arms as you poured the drinks into chilled glassware. When you went to refill Joe’s pint of Spotted Cow, you noticed the tap start to stutter and foam the last dregs of an empty keg and raised your head to tell Sam it was out.

           He was leaning on his elbow, ankles crossed where the long stretch of his body met the floor and talking to Jake, clearly telling some joke from the way Jake cracked up and gave him that snapping handshake men often exchange instead of hugs. The smile on his face was just smug enough to show he knew whatever he’d said was funny, and more than anything he looked relaxed, looked comfortable. Looked like he belonged there, the reflection off green glassed whiskey bottles making his eyes seem lit from within. You decided to change the beer yourself and leave him in peace; the bar was slow enough that he could handle it alone for a few minutes, limited cocktail experience or not.

           Every time you went into the basement at work to change a keg you were amazed that Sam even fit in the room where they were stored; it was back at the end of the walk-in cooler with ceilings so low even you felt claustrophobic there. Aluminum kegs in varied states of fullness stacked by their respective lines, marked by stickers and tags of indeterminate ages, were in a sort of half-organization around the walls. Based on how fast Sam changed them when one went empty, you were pretty sure he would know instinctively which ones were which, but as it was you had to climb around the makeshift aluminum jungle gym to trace each looping hose back to its source. You finally found the empty Spotted Cow and the line that would tie it to its respective tap in the corner. To get there you’d had to hop on top of two others, one foot on a fresh Bud Light and the other on some Coors while your spine curved to avoid hitting your head on the ceiling. Unfastening the tap from the empty keg, you yanked back to tug it off and slipped on some extra moisture on top of the metal. It sent you off balance enough that you grabbed at the tubing at the end of the tap you were holding in an effort to stay on your feet.

           The hose pulled out of the line system and sprayed the rest of the beer within all over the room and you, brown ale getting in your mouth and eyes and sending you careening to the ground, tugging the empty keg on top of you with a huge clatter. You rolled it off of you, thanking God it was empty, and tried not to think too hard about the age of the beer remnant mixture leeching off the cement floor into your t shirt as you got up. By the time you got back to your feet, Sam was standing in the doorway, slightly out of breath with a look of concern on his face.

           “Are you okay? What happened?” he asked, surveying the scene.

           You still had the keg tap and hose in your hand, completely detached from the wall. “I was going to change the Spotted Cow but I couldn’t reach the back so I had to climb and then I…slipped.” Sam’s face smoothed in relief when he saw the smile spreading across your face. “And broke it.”

           “But you’re okay?”

           “Probably going to have a pretty kickass bruise tomorrow and I’m covered in beer but yeah, I’m okay. Sorry I pulled it out; do you know how to fix it?”

           Sam smiled, his dimples carving into his cheeks. “I’ll figure it out.”

           You pouted around your embarrassment and sheepishly handed him the tap. “I should probably get back upstairs,” you offered, shaking your wet shirt away from your body.

           “I’m, uh, I’m ready.” Sam murmured, rubbing the back of his neck shyly.

           “Do you need me to go get tools or something?”

           “No—I mean, like, ready.” He raised his eyebrows meaningfully and the emphasis crashed into you hard enough that it almost sent you careening back into the kegs.

           “Ready ready?” you breathed, sounding stupid and not caring, wanting to bound over and leap into Sam’s arms.

           “Ready read—” and Sam was cut off by your lips on his, taking a sharp inhale against your cheek as he kissed you. After a beat of electric shock Sam twined into the hair at the nape of your neck, his fingers hot from washing dishes and soothing in the air of the cooler. You slid down the soft flannel of his shirt and wrapped up fistfuls of it, desperate to have him closer, closer, closer, feel the firm slopes of his body when you weren’t sleeping. He groaned into you and it sent a shudder down your spine as you slipped down the edge of his jaw to kiss along the broad expanse of his neck, tendons squirming under your lips and the thrum of his blood pumping fast and hard.

           Sam moved a hand to your lower back and bent down to scoop under a hamstring, gently but swiftly lifting and spinning so you were pressed up against the doorframe by his body, hitched up in the air to better reach his face. You gasped and felt Sam’s smile against your mouth, wrapping your legs around his waist and greedily roaming the muscles in his chest as they flexed to carry you. The way the wall pinned you to Sam made it so easy to rock into him, feel the metal of his belt buckle through the worn cotton of your jeans and the heat seep through his shirt into the sticky beer drying on yours. “I—oh fuck—” Sam stammered between kisses as you rolled your hips, trying to balance the need to catch his breath with the pent-up magnetism between you. “We have—Jesus Christ, ah—there are customers upstairs,” he finally spit out.

           That zapped you back to reality, finally breaking away to press your forehead against his. “Fuck,” you moaned. A long second passed, sharing air between you and Sam as he held you suspended. “Do we care?” you murmured hopefully against closed eyes, smiling.

           Sam chuckled, breathy and low as he lowered you to the ground softly. “Unless you have another way of paying rent.”

           You gently knocked your head into Sam’s chest. “Man, couldn’t sit on that for a few more hours? How am I supposed to work the rest of the night?”

           He ran his tongue over his molars as he grabbed the tap from where it had fallen to the ground, accepting the gentle teasing. “I just—I don’t know, you were just standing there and it all kind of—it just made sense all of a sudden.”

           “The stale beer did it for you? If I knew that I would’ve broken all of the lines ages ago.” You bit your lip against your smile, suddenly a little bashful and exposed and feeling every drying drop of beer across your chest.

           “I um, might have another t-shirt in the car if you want me to check.”

           “Thanks. I can get it though, can I have the keys?”

           Sam snaked a hand into his pocket and you could see the muscles in his forearm ripple as he grabbed them for you. He handed the keys over, his face open and vulnerable even with the hint of smirk. Tapping the keys against the doorframe you stalled for time, wanting more than anything to have even just an hour without responsibilities. You reached out and stroked his arm. “You’re sure about this? It’s okay if you’re—”

           Sam’s head bobbed quickly. “Yeah. Yes, I’m sure.” He looked solemn, resolute in a way that reassured you. “I’m sorry it took—”

           “Nothing to be sorry about. I just wanted to check.”

           He closed the step between you, tucking a chunk of hair behind your ear and gazing down into your eyes. “I know. And thank you for that.” He kissed you on the forehead, grinning into your hair. “Now go change, you smell like a frat party.”

           You pushed playfully against his chest and made your way upstairs, leaving him smiling at your back as you walked away.

-

Continue to Dreams, Chapter 15

Thanks again for reading! If you liked it, check out my Masterlist or send me a request!

Tags: @sams-sass @vxnderlindes @deanwinchesterswitch @akshi8278 @itsjensenanddean @flannellover67 @weepingwillowphoenix @tj-drinks-tea @whatareyousearchingfordean @winchestergirl2 @winchest09 @samwisethegr8 @nobxdy @nurse-sarahrn @lovers-in-japan-reign-of-love @deanwanddamons @stressedoutkitten @winchestershiresauce @tatted-trina6 @percico-heronstairs @downanddirtydean @queenoftheunderdark @lyarr24 @waywardwifey @thinkinghardhardlythinking @wonder-cole @sergeantsea @peachyafshawn @tjfinnigan @that-one-gay-girl @calaofnoldor​ @daringvixon @fairlyspnfanfic @treat-winchesterswith-kindness​ @samfreakingwinchester​ @lovelyrocker​ @mrspeacem1nusone​ @theveridianmoon​ @underc0vercryptid​ @kpwatsonn​

And as always, if you want to be on my taglist, were on the taglist and changed your handle, or I lost track of it, please let me know!

[whumblr]

Wednesday

Home is where the hurt is: Part 1 - Continued from Part 28

Tagging: @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @burtlederp @castielamigos-whump-side-blog @hurtmebeautifully  @rougenoirofthepurpleterror @snuffhimout @susiequaz12 @mnmlover2002 @undertheburrow @whump-me-all-night-long @whumpinggoodtime @starnight-whump @rippedjeansandfadeddreams @im-just-here-for-the-whump @restrainthenmaime @freefallingup13 @whatwasmyprevioususername @myfriendcallsmeasickwoman19 @firewheeesky 

-

A wave of annoyance hit Jay when he came home to Zayne waiting in his chair.

Wednesday was one of the few days of respite he got. He had training in the evening and after Zayne had intimidated him to get home on time after work, Jay had bargained a fixed day off so he could continue going without raising eyebrows.

It worked well. Except today, clearly. Though maybe he should’ve bargained for Tuesday evenings off. It could be quite hard, not to mention fucking ironic, to push through self-defence courses while the injuries from yesterday’s beating prevented him from standing up straight.

"Are you going senile? It's Wednesday." Jay pretended not to notice the dangerous atmosphere, Zayne leering at him from his chair, as he avoided eye contact and went to the bedroom to grab his bag.

"Thought maybe you were still sick in bed and in need of some distraction,” Zayne said, swivelling  the chair sideways.

"So you were planning on bullying on the sick," Jay called from the bedroom, "nice." He rushed from one end of the room to the next, fishing a t-shirt and shorts from his closet, grabbing his sneakers and stuffing them all in his bag in a hurry. If he could just make a quick exit, he could grab a bite to eat somewhere and kill some time outside. Not here.

Zayne’s gaze followed him as he rushed through his flat, eyes on the bag. “Means you’re well enough for some physical activity?”

Was he ever? “Not the kind you have in mind.”

“Just a little warm-up exercise to get you ready for your class.”

"No need.” Jay finally turned to him, frustrated. “Do you know how much it sucks when someone grabs your arm sparring, right on a day old bruise and-- oh what the hell, of course you do," he muttered as Zayne's grin only grew wider and his eyes lit up with every irritated word Jay spoke.

"No, really, do tell," Zayne got up and followed Jay to the hallway before he could slink off and out the door.

"Like this?" He clamped a hand over Jay's shoulder, right where he knew a large bruise was still healing.

Jay hissed at the sudden pain and twisted free.

Zayne took the moment to slither around him and stood in front of the door. Jay’s only escape.

“Get out the way,” Jay grunted. “I have to go.”

“No, you don’t. Still got an hour.”

Zayne casually stretched out an arm, leaning against the doorframe with his forearm like a bolt resting over the top corner of the door. He didn’t fully block the exit and his stance was open, like he actually stood to the side to let Jay pass.

But when Jay tried to scurry out and pull the door open, he looked up in annoyance – somewhat incredulous even - as it stopped against Zayne’s arm.

Come on, it’s a human arm, not some wooden bolt, why can’t I just…! He tried again hoping Zayne would pull back, which of course he didn’t.

Still leaning his full weight against the door, Zayne bent over Jay.

“You’ve had almost a week to heal, in more ways than one,” he cooed down on him, arm still not budging an inch. “Figured I should ease you into our routine again.”

Jay’s eyes widened and his breath caught for a bit. “It’s Wednes—“ he tried again, looked up to meet Zayne’s mischievous eyes.

“I know what day it is.”

“We had a deal.”

“Well, we don’t have to go all the way. Just a warm-up. Remind you what you’re taking those lessons for. How are those going, by the way?”

“Fine.”

“Fight me off, then.”

With Zayne reaching up like that, his torso was unprotected. He was practically inviting – daring – Jay to make a move. Yet Jay resisted the urge to plant an elbow into his stomach and run. All it would do was make sure that Zayne would be waiting for him later that evening to show him what a bad idea that had been, leaving him with a boatload of extra adrenaline and stress during his training hour, only to come home absolutely drained and too exhausted to defend himself.

He scoffed at that. Defend himself? Yeah, right.

Zayne, noticing his hesitation, tsked softly between his teeth. “What use are those lessons if you’re too scared to use ‘em? Stay here. I’ll help you get over that fear.”

“You want to teach me how to kick you out of my own house?”

“Instruct you in the ways of violence, sure, maybe you’ll learn a thing or two.”

“I think I’ve had enough lessons in violence.”

“Tell you what. You can go to your little fight club tonight,” Zayne started and Jay already narrowed his eyes, waiting for the ‘but’.

“And I’ll be waiting for you when you return and we’ll pick up where we left.”

“Yeah, no.”

“Or…”

Jay didn’t like the sound of that. He quickly let go of the door handle, but Zayne’s hand snapped around his wrist in a bruising grip, pulling him back. Caught off-balance, Jay fought to stay upright before he keeled right into Zayne’s chest. The hand over the door lowered and settled against the frame next to Jay’s head as Zayne encroached on his personal space and sidled closer.

“Get on your knees and beg.”

“You have got to be kidding,” Jay growled in return, but the fingers around his wrist only tightened in warning.

“Am I?”

Jay pulled against the grip and to his surprise, Zayne let go. He flexed his fingers to get rid of the numb feeling, the blood now rushing back to his fingertips. Zayne however, pushed himself off the doorway. He tilted himself up to full height and pressed his torso forward as he stepped towards Jay, pushing him away.

Jay instantly fell a step back, only to be followed by Zayne who loomed over him.

The intimidation worked wonders. Jay stumbled back in fear. He dropped his bag, ready to compromise to avoid the looming punishment.

“Okay, fine! But I’m not begging to leave my own flat! We had a d—“

But as he lowered to the floor, hand raised in surrender yet still sputtering his complaints, the sudden force of a boot to the chest caught him off guard. He fell back over the doorstep to the living room. Heard heavy thumping footsteps get closer and before he could scuttle away on his elbows, a groan was forced from him as Zayne stomped on his chest and pinned him to the ground.

The leather toe of Zayne’s heavy motor cycle boot nudged against his chin. Jay glanced up, eyes wide, and caught Zayne’s grin before the man let his weight fall down.

Jay grunted, his ribcage protesting against the sudden force.

His back arched against the wooden floor and he let his head fall back as he grit his teeth against the pain. Big mistake. Zayne took full advantage and slipped his boot down over Jay’s now exposed throat.

Carefully and very slowly, he shifted his weight again and Jay let out a cut off soft gasp as the pressure on his windpipe increased until he couldn’t breathe.

Hands roamed up, clawed into fists and pounded uselessly against Zayne’s ankles and shinbone that were protected by more rigid, sturdy leather. Jay kicked and struggled, his own shoes squeaking against the wooden floor.

He reached up, feeling for the edges of Zayne’s boot, fingers clawing into the fabric of the black jeans. While it seemed he was just scrambling desperately at Zayne’s leg, he had a plan. He found the weak spot, just behind the knee, and his fingers squeezed hard.

“Whoa!” Zayne yelped and pulled back in alarm when he felt the soft pinch break through his jeans before Jay could fully twist his fingers into the tendon. “That is nasty, Jay! What the hell, did your training actually teach you something useful?”

Jay didn’t answer. He scrambled up and pressed himself up against the side of the couch. He sat on his hunches, one arm over the armrest the other hand massaging his throat, panting and wheezing trying to catch his breath with his eyes still warily on Zayne.

Zayne let out a scoff as he saw him like that, a cat backed into a corner, but started to laugh. He rubbed the back of his leg. “I still feel that. Well, okay. Go learn some more tricks, I guess.”

He stepped aside, clearing the way out. “The extra adrenaline might give you a bit of an edge, tonight.”

-

Continued here

[yeetbean]

Tell us more about your ocs!

hehehe wellll since youve enabled me :3 :3

Olivia and Wade are childhood best friends, and Olivia was at his house more than her own, and she's part of his family basically. They've always planned on living together, even if/when they both get partners.

Olivia is a tentacle porn artist, and predictably makes bank doing that. Wade works at a sports bar th/f/s, a gay bar sunday (superbear sunday anyone?), and teaches a knitting class at Joann's after their shift on monday/tuesdays. He needs a break.

they are both burning themselves out and WILL be forced to stop doing that.

Wade has self esteem issues and dates men who don't value him, because hes a total sweetheart and lets people walk all over him. Someone sends him a video of his boyfriend shit talking him at a party and its a big wake up call that he deserves better.

Olivia lets work consume her and will ghost people for months and then just pop up one day like nothing has changed. She holds all her girlfriends at arm's length, and her longest off again/on again girlfriend gets engaged, and Olivia realizes she has nothing, just Wade and a handful of people that don't want to talk to her because she never wants to talk to them except for a bootycall at 2am every six months when she's overwhelmed by life and needs to vent.

This happens to coincide with her taking a contract that doesn't pay enough and working her ass off for a high profile company and destroying her wrist for 3 months of work squeezed into one month. Tendonitis forces her to take a break and leave the house.

Andrea/Andie is a queer (she/they) indie game dev and streamer/speedrunner. They're an ambulatory wheelchair user (disability tbd but im thinking heds? more research needed). Their main job is animation but they can also code. They work at a game dev studio but they're not out and she's obviously the only not cishet person on the team.

Andrea meets Wade at his sportsbar job when she gets stood up by a couple she's been seeing (a unicorn did not fix their relationship funnily enough) and they sit at the bar talking about knitting all night.

They knit poorly, and wade inspires them to try and get better at it. She signs up for a class and Surprise! its Wade again. this time they actually exchange info even though she's mortified that she accidentally ended up at his job again.

Wade makes them realize that none of their friends/partners actually care about their interest/what they say. all their interactions are just *buzzes about hyperfixation together* which is totally new to her.

Andie meets Olivia in a little queer cafe. There's one open outlet and they share it in silence! just comfortably working until Olivia gets frustrated with Blender, and Andie happens to know the magic keyboard shortcut that fixes her problem, and they hit it off immediately! Andie is avoiding the fact that she has no friends and Olivia is avoiding the fact that she shouldn't be working until her wrist heals, so she's more than happy to listen to Andie infodump about how blender works for an hour and neither of them get any work done for the rest of the day.

Their relationships go on for months (slow burn my beloved) and somehow Wade and Olivia never catch on to the fact that his Andrea is Her Andie despite them being best friends who talk about everything, and both of them knowing they need a wheelchair. They're just. blind idiots in love.

Andie comes over often (when one or the other is at work) and minds her business. she figures that if there were parts of her relationship w the other they wanted to share, then olivia and wade probably already told the other already. Andie doesn't know that they don't realize it, and she finds it very very funny when the reveal happens.

i could write so much! but I'll stick to summarizing and wont get into the nitty gritty character arc details (theyre delicious these people have issues!). but suffice it to say they will come out the other side healthier happier people.

also olivia is a stoner w a little chihuahua that looks like a rat that she loves. Wade has 3 (nearly identical) cats that they claim is only 1 cat to the landlord (bc fuck pet rent)

Andie has a pet snake! probably a hognose because i love them they're little cuties w their little shovel faces :3 :3

[shattered-catalyst]

Intro to OCD for the RPC part 1/?

This is a balmy 6 page document on the VERY BASICS of OCD by a person who has had OCD for over 15 years and knows their shit.

If you want to write a character who has OCD this series is going to be a good starting point. If you dont know much about OCD I encourage you to read it so you can be an ally to those of us who have the disorder.

OCD is made into a cultural joke and when there isnt the ‘Obsessive Cat disorder’ bullshit its an angst off with other people and their non-ocd intrusive thoughts. Its different. Do your research and be an ally.

This will cover the very very basics. The next post will look into subtypes of OCD and how those are experienced.

 Whomst can write it? 

Literally anyone as long as you 

● Do so respectfully and not make a mockery of the disorder and the harm it causes in peoples lives 

● Dont make OCD the characters single thing or boil them down to it entirely ● Do respect the experiences and opinions of muns who have the disorder if they have concerns about your portrayal.

● Dont milk it for angst - unless you have OCD in which case release some of your angst.

● Dont try and say you know what intrusive thoughts are because they have *insert any other neuro a-typical thing here* 

● Dont police how Muns who have OCD choose to portray it. Its our experience not yours. I like to write out my characters OCD as I experience OCD so my experiences are different from other muns. OCD is very diverse in its effects but always ask if you arent sure.

. What isnt OCD? 

● Cleanliness or organization- OCD is NEVER an adjective. 

● Planning/ Hypervigilance/Organized/Methodical 

● Turning light switches on and off, unplugging things (find out more on later time)

 ● “I have to organize my pencils otherwise it bothers me” “ I have to make sure my mattress is straight” “ my nails have to be the same length” are all typical responses from people WHO DO NOT have OCD. 

● Making sure objects are lined up neatly 

● Having things go in a particular order like the letters CDO as the joke goes

● Really loving Cats, Corgis, or Christmas; if you own any of these items i urge you to reflect and also send me 10$ (jk but do reflect)

The Barest minimum 

Google OCD this will be an advanced version of OCD. This will be long but if you want to be aware of others or want to write the character you will read it. 

OCD is made of Obsessions. Triggers. Anxiety, Compulsions/Rituals.

1. Obsessions are the thoughts 

2. Triggers are the object/person/image/situation/smell ETC 

3. The Anxiety occurs is at uncomfortable levels to the point of panic or anxiety attacks

 4. Compulsions or Rituals are performed 

*There is a variant of OCD called Pure O. In this individuals have the obsessions triggers and anxiety but there is NO compulsion or ritual. This is still valid OCD. 

Obsessions are the precursors to the flawed unwanted and harmful intrusive thoughts: 

Im going to use you so you really understand this because its important.If you misunderstand this you are basically encouraging a mental health condition and dont get a sticker for reading this far. 

First check out this link as it has ALL the subtypes and examples. 

Obsessions can be hidden by the intrusive thought and teasing them out can be difficult to do if you have the disorder because well its a disorder okay thats why. It boils down to ‘i could harm someone’ ‘i could cause harm’ ‘ i may have accidentally harmed ___’ ‘ i may accidentally harm’ etc 

This is the flawed powerful belief that predate the Intrusive Thought. 

Intrusive thoughts appear in every brain on earth. They are not special or unusual however intrusive thoughts with OCD get stuck in the brain- meaning they stay there no matter what you do. So yes , they are different from intrusive thoughts in other conditions. 

The thing about OCD is that it latches on to what you hold dear; it may be you are a caring person and love children and animals- your OCD would give you intrusive violent or sexual thoughts or images. These are horrible to experience. They are not welcome nor appreciated and there is no benefit or positive side to having them. 

If say social justice is something you hold dear your ocd may take the form of intrusive thoughts of slurs, jokes, visuals etc. These are horrible to experience and lead to high levels of anxiety and are not positive nor beneficial to have in any way shape or form. 

Maybe you would not harm someone or you value others; your OCD may present as graphic intrusive images or thoughts around poisoning, stabbing,accidental..ly murdering (yeah you read that right), hitting, insulting etc someone else 

I must emphasize this because it is critical that people understand POCD: for the sake of those of us who have OCD read this until its burned into your brain. 

This is the fucked up awful Obsessive thought that you are/were/ or could be sexually attracted to children. This is NOT pedophilia. People kill themselves over this because they are afraid that these intrusive thoughts are true. People isolate themselves and dont have families out of fear of harming a child. People take work in different fields or avoid areas with children out of the absolute terror their obsessive thoughts could be true. This is NOT pedophilia. There is NO attraction present.

Most people who experience POCD intrusive thoughts would rather punch a sharknado than even THINK of hurting a kid in any way shape or form. That is why the OCD does its thing it is like having an abusive brain. 

Again for clarity's sake 

If you value social justice -> the intrusive thoughts violate social justice stuff 

If you value animals -> intrusive thoughts come up with harming animals 

If you care about the protection and safety of children -> POCD 

Triggers would be the situation, scenario, object, person,creature, context etc that is related to the Obsession. It can be literally anything. 

What follows is a hell of a lot of anxiety that can range anywhere from discomfort to full on panic attacks. 

Everyone has different intrusive thoughts and everyone experiences different amounts of distress upon being triggered. 

● As a side bar. Do not ever try and expose someone to their triggers or write about a character being exposed to their triggers as a way to help ‘cure them’ or ‘expose them’ to ANYTHING. What you are doing is literally taking someone with a mental illness and shoving them into a breakdown and thats a piece of shit move. Exposure therapy does exist and is done by professionals TRAINED in ERP. My parents did this a lot and I am positive I am not alone in that experience. 

Compulsions or Rituals: Now you may be saying ‘hey i know what those are’ yeah dude me too and I have had ocd for over 15 years and trained in mental health for 7 and guess what. They teach ya wrong. 

Compulsions or ‘rituals’ are any behavior done to alleviate the anxiety from the intrusive thought and trigger object. 

This can be as passive as ‘i am leaving the room’ ‘ i am checking my body sensations’ ‘ i am trying SO HARD TO HEAR MY HEARTBEAT’ .

 It can also be repeating the same thing over and over. To illustrate this I once mentally chanted the same song lyric line on a 3 hour plane ride because otherwise we were all going to die. I took one for the whole team.

It can be somatic things like counting your heart beats, focusing on your breathing, swallowing, staring and not blinking for so many seconds. 

It can be readjusting clothing until the seams fit. It can be checking god yes checking IK its a common trope but it IS a compulsion that has ruined my life and can be as passive as checking my reality or texting for proof my cat is still alive. It can also be checking yourself for assurance you wouldnt do the intrusive thought or that the intrusive thought isnt going to happen.

Compulsions are mentally painful and sometimes physically painful; 

● Washing your hands with scalding water for 5+ minutes can lead to horribly dry and cracking skin to down right BURNS.

● If you do the same movement you can mess up joints and ligaments. So if you pray constantly you may have knee issues from standing and kneeling.

● If your compulsion has you doing movement against an object ie say gripping and regripping something you get callouses. 

● If you compulsively exercise you may get trapped doing something above a healthy amount or say going from not working out to running a five minute mile and wiping out on a treadmill because your brain demanded it. Totally didnt do that... 

● If your compulsions make you rub against any object you can get friction burns and scars. 

To put this in perspective 15 years of compulsions have left my hands and finger joints a complete mess, damaged my arm tendons, friction scars on my arms that only now faded, and scars on my legs from doing too much of an activity. 

Its not lmao I gotta fix these pencils its real agony and real torture. 

In short compulsions and rituals are not fun they are absolutely not logical, and we know they are not logical but we are forced to do them. Thats why its a disorder. 

OCD disrupts relationships with social components such as ; 

Obsessively checking in with partner/friend if things are ‘okay’ (this feels horrible to do too fyi like you KNOW things are fine but you cant NOT because the anxiety is SO BAD), 

Relationship OCD is a WHOLE category itself! this ties into sexuality OCD where your obsessive thoughts prey on your sexuality (regardless of your orientation), your relationship, cheating or being disloyal etc.

OCD causes significant withdrawal from others, fears of being a monster, intense guilt over intrusive thoughts, disgust with yourself over the intrusive thoughts sometimes leading to self punishment. 

OCD leads to strange behavior which more often than not leads to bullying and ostracization. To exemplify this I have an intrusive thought that I have stolen something when I am inside stores, my check-check-check-check-check-recheck! of my pockets gets me store security called so often its criminal.

OCD limits activities that may expose them to triggers or influenced by intrusive thoughts ie: not being able to take the train to work or only getting off at bus stops with even numbers.

OCD impacts where they spend time, who they associate with, what jobs they take or even if they have a family or not

OCD leads to overwhelming feelings of guilt, shame, and fear over having intrusive thoughts or images that they experience which causes them to socially isolate or have difficulty in social situations. 

OCD leads to Hyperfixation: like a lot of other things but thankfully it is just hyperfixation and not different from other diagnoses. 

OCD leads to rigidity or structured routines: I have listened to the same CD in my car for 5 years now. Every single day. 5 Years.And Im not okay with that. 

OCD impacts standards we hold ourselves to and others: its like regular perfectionism but like add on 5 extra layers of anxiety! 

OCD according to NIMH statistics 

1.2% Occurrence among US adults 

2.3% Lifetime Prevalence among US adults 

34.8% Of Adults who have OCD suffer moderate impairment to daily functioning 50.6% of Adults who have OCD suffer serious impairment to daily functioning

OCD has strong co-morbidity with the following:

Tourettes Syndrome- is a genetic friend of OCD and if you have tourettes or OCD your chances of having someone else in the family is high

ADHD

Autism 

GAD

Eating Disorders

Depression - this is a big one along with low self esteem because of the intrusive thoughts

Writers like to make jokes about characters “being OCD” well now they have clinical OCD and you should consider fleshing out your character with this information just as you would any other disorder.

Batman (DC)

Riddler (?)(DC)

Domino (Marvel)

 Cyclops (Marvel)

[nepenthendline]

Hi! I just want to say that I love love love your tendon x reader ADHD headcanons and was wondering if you could some for my favourite boi Iwaizumi? 🤩🥰

thank you!! I’m glad you enjoyed them! I’m sorry if this is a bit all over the place, I’m not feeling my best atm 🥰🥰

Requests are closed!

S/O with ADHD - Iwaizumi

never be worried with Iwaizumi that you’ll be a burden or an annoyance, in his eyes you’re a lot easier to deal with than Oikawa so he’ll happily help you with any struggles you have (and of course he loves you and you’re way cuter than Oikawa)

Iwaizumi is a really organised guy - he always has everything he needs with him, he’s great at creating schedules and sticking to them, and knows many different ways of studying or practicing things

because of this, he’s good at helping you find ways of doing things that work for you and don’t cause you too much stress, he explains things so simply and slowly so, even if you’re struggling to concentrate, you can have time to fully take in his words and think them through

he also knows how important taking breaks are for anyone, especially those with ADHD, so he will never make you sit and study for too long

he likes rewarding your behaviour too, if you manage to get your homework done or concentrate for good time then he’ll make sure the two of you do something fun or eat some tasty food afterwards

he’ll never get mad or punish you in away way if you can’t though, he’ll just mention that you can have good days and bad days, and that it’s better to take a break now and come back to it when you feel ready

if he notices you’re attention is elsewhere than it needs to be, such as in class, then he’ll give you hints that you’re mind is drifting away, including little nudges, squeezing your hand or passing you a note

he reminds you often that everyone has things they struggle with, that no one is perfect and that everyone has room to improve on things no matter how good they already are, which helps you to feel more accepted with your ADHD

he’s amazing at dealing with sensory overloads - firstly he’s just going to do his best for the two of you to avoid the situations, but if he can’t, then he tuck you into his chest and over your ears if things are too loud, or take you outside for some air

he’s not one for extreme PDA, but he knows that having his hand in yours, or letting you fiddle with the ends of his sleeves can comfort you so he’s happy to let you, it also stops you from getting lost if something catches your attention and you stop or wander off without him realising

he notices a bit into the relationship that sometimes you like squeezing his arm muscles like a stress toy to stim - he doesn’t particularly see the appeal, but as long as it’s making you feel happy and calm then he’s fine

he does his best not to coddle you too much though, you are you’re own grown person so you don’t need him babying you, he thinks its also important that you learn from your mistakes rather than him making sure you never experience them

if you deal with mood swings, especially anger or frustration, he works tell to help you sort through your feelings, he’ll take you outside, sit you down and ask you what’s going through your mind

he’s great at helping you figure out if you are actually angry at something, or if really you are just sad or feeling other emotions that are presenting as anger

he’s not a huge chatter, so he understands if you need some quiet time, or if you can’t look him in the eyes while you speak to him - while he’s pretty good at communication skills, even he doesn’t particularly like eye-contact

he tries to find ways of managing your energy so you don’t get too restless or fidgety during the day, his favourite way is to have you be active together, whether that’s him teaching you volleyball or going for walks

if people are overwhelming you with talking, questions or going too fast with the conversation, he isn’t scared to tell them to shut up or slow down, but he’ll never draw the attention to you

your stims may surprise him at first as he’s never really seen or dealt with such things before, but he quickly gets used to them and accepts them as part of you

especially your happy stims - he loves learning what they are so he knows when you are feeling good or excited, he particularly loves if they happen because of him

“your S/O bought you super limited edition, expensive volleyball shoes? well my S/O happy flaps over me, so who’s the real winner?”

he’s extremely mentally strong so he’ll always do his best to take on your struggles and guide you through them

[nordleuchten]

How La Fayette broke his femur-bone

During the cold season we are all advised to be careful. Freezing temperatures, ice on lakes that will not support you sufficiently, slippery roads and pavements – that was no different in the 18th and early 19th century. To his great misery, La Fayette learned this lesson through first-hand experience. On February 23, 1803 he slipped on an icy street in Paris and broke his femur-bone close to the hip joint.

In his autobiography he retells the event:

„Soon after bidding farewell to his English friends, Lafayette was leaving the building of the Ministry of Marine, when his foot slipped on the ice, and he fell heavily on the pavement, breaking his hip - bone. He was assisted into a carriage, and taken to the house of M. and Mme. de Tessé, where his wife soon arrived.“

Two little notes. First, the Ministry of Marine was located near the modern Place de la Concorde. Second, he did not actually break the hip-bone itself … that would have been far, far worse.

A friend of La Fayette referenced his accident in a letter to Thomas Jefferson on Febuary 15, 1803:

“bien peu de jours apres la lettre que vous m’avez ecrit et a laquelle je me fesois un grand plaisir de repondre, jay eprouvé un cruel accident c’est une chutte qui ma cassé los du femeur de la Cuisse juste le même malheur que m de la fayette(…)“

[Just a few days after receiving your letter, which I looked forward to answering, I had a terrible accident, a fall that broke my hip bone, exactly the same misfortune as Monsieur de Lafayette.]

 La Fayette himself wrote on March 31, 1803 in a letter to Thomas Jefferson:

“(...) and I my dear Sir I am dependent upon an accident which has rendered it impossible to write myself, and not very easy amidst my sufferings, and the attendance of surgeons to direct a correspondence. I have already been for five and fifty days under the pains of a broken Phémurés-neck and the operation of a new invented machine, I have still three weeks to remain uncomfortably on my back, but I now am sure to recover the use of my thigh without any lameness. as to the particulars of my misfortune and treatment, nobody can better give them than General Bernadotte who has been a most friendly visitor at my bedside. (…)“

 He further wrote to Jefferson on May 17, 1803:

„I have met with a Sad accident, the breaking of my Thigh, at the Col du femur it has been more compleatly mended than perhaps any fracture of the Kind, but I have paid it dear—the application of a new machine has left me very deep Wounds, besides the great sufferings I have undergone—My Situation does not yet allow much writing—But I wanted to express to you my Joy on the grand affair and my Gratitude, both to Congress and to you, for the honourable bountiful mark of Kindness I have received—“

 A day later on May 18, 1803, Richard Peters wrote to James Madison, also relating La Fayette’s accident:

“After describing the Situation of another worthy old Officer who has a Provision in their War Department he mentions Mr la fayette as one who alone is under a Necessity of looking to this Country for Assistance. “Our Friend la Fayette who in a Fall, had, some time ago the upper Part or Neck of the Femur fractured, begins to do well.”

Jefferson also received a letter from London from his friend James Monroe, dated September 20, 1803, who had just been in Paris and had met La Fayette there.

„I saw Genls. La Fayette & Kusciusko often. They are the men you always knew them to be. La Fayette has the same ardor that he had when he began the French revolution while you were in France. He had unfortunately dislocated his thigh in its junction with the hip, & experienced unexampled sufferings by the application of a new invented machine, wh. the surgeons thot. necessary to his cure. The prospect, tho’ doubtful when I came away, was in favor of his perfect recovery. I have not heard from him since.“

La Fayette was treated by two surgeons and the procedure of his treatment is what really makes the story worth telling. Again turning to the Marquis’ autobiography, we can read there that:

“The character of the fracture led the physicians to expect a shortening of the leg and a permanently crippled condition. To avoid this result, they offered Lafayette the only alternative of undergoing the confinement of his leg in a newly invented machine, which might preserve its length, but would necessitate forty days of ceaseless pain. Lafayette resolved on this course, and for six weeks suffered excessive torture. The uncomplaining patience with which he bore the pain deceived the physicians. The bandages were too tight, and when they were removed the leg presented a sight which terrified the physicians and gave them little hope of saving the patient without amputation of the limb. The tension of the bandages had been so great that the flesh was deeply cut and part of the calf had to be removed. The physicians were greatly mortified at their error, and this experience modified the future use of the new instrument. But Lafayette, notwithstanding the permanent injuries caused to him by the treatment, was well satisfied to have endured it, as his leg was not shortened, and a gradual improvement enabled him to take his usual daily exercise. This accident and the sufferings entailed by it aroused much public interest, and gave Lafayette an opportunity to estimate the value of his friends' attachment. Many generals, senators, and councillors visited him openly and in uniform. Among these, Moreau, Joseph Bonaparte, and Bernadotte were unremitting in their attentions. Some only ventured to inquire for news, others to ask their friends, and others again only to listen to such accounts as they heard given in public. Bonaparte's change of feeling was now shown. Having inquired the name of an officer at a parade, and being told that it was the young Lafayette, he exclaimed, “It is his son”, and passed on.”

 La Fayettes personal physician, Jules Germain Cloquet also relates the incident in his book “Recollections of the Private Life of General Lafayette, etc.”

“Few possessed the virtues of patience and resignation in a higher degree than Lafayette. During his last illness, he acquainted us with the nature of the medical treatment which he had undergone in 1803 for a fracture of the thigh, occasioned by a fall on a slippery pavement. Deschamp and Boyer, whose memory I respect, and whom I am proud to have had for my masters, were summoned in their professional capacity to his assistance. The fractured limb was enclosed in a machine, which kept it in a constant state of tension; and as Lafayette had promised those skilful surgeons to support the pain with patience as long as they might judge it necessary for his cure, he uttered not a single complaint for the fifteen or twenty days during which the apparatus was applied. When it was removed, the surgeons were unable to conceal the annoyance they felt at the effect produced by the bandages. Deschamp turned pale; Boyer was stupified: the upper bandages had, by their pressure, cut deeply into the muscles of the inside of the thigh, and laid bare the femoral artery; the action of the lower ones had been less violent, but they had produced a mortification of the skin at the back part of the foot and laid bare the tendons of the toes. In consequence of Lafayette's stoical fortitude, the vigilance of his surgeons was completely at fault. Deep scars bore evidence of the truth of one of his observations to us, uttered, however, in confidence, through an apprehension of injuring, not the interests but the memory of two individuals for whom he felt gratitude, although their exertions on his behalf had been unsuccessful. A length of time elapsed before he recovered from the lamentable consequences which resulted from his medical treatment, and which were followed by an almost complete anchylosis and lameness of the hip - joint.”

Cloquet also re-printed a letter in his book that La Fayette wrote to a close friend.

 “You are pleased to ask for a line of my hand writing, dear Masclet, and I employ the first moments I am able to scribble it. The fracture of my thigh is perfectly mended, better, indeed, than could be expected under such circumstances. But the extending machine has left deep and painful wounds, which cannot be healed within five weeks.”

La Fayette remained limp until the end of his life.

What does this story teach us? Always be careful when walking outside in the winter.

[stachmousworld]

Bucky’s Kitty (Part 2)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Black!woman character

Tags: insecurities – squirting and being too “loose” – edging, teasing, blowjob, cockring, no protections, also lots of talking during sex, name calling during sex  - slut, whore -, vaginal and anal fingering...

SMUT, HERE WE GO! BUCKLE UP!

Part 1 - Part 3 -

Y/N left the stage quickly. The rest of the dance went by in a blur. She wasn’t really sure if she’d dance well or not, and she didn’t really care.

Bucky. The Winter Soldier. The Mafia Boss. Bucky. Her boyfriend Bucky was the Winter Soldier.

It certainly explained a few of his “quirks”. Why he avoided talking about stripping. And also, why he looked so smug when she raved about the mafia bosses in the city. How embarrassing…

Her entire face grew warm.

She had been swooning and moaning about the Winter Soldier for months. She had even collected some pictures (although blurry) of this man. Her boyfriend, who had a secret identity. And yet, he never made fun of her, nor made any remarks.

She smiled softly. Bucky was really an enigma. She couldn’t reconcile the rumors about the Winter Soldier and her grumpy bear. She knew he had a dark side. There were times where he’d tensed up and scan an entire room before “relaxing.” He’d sit against walls and would never be on the open.

It also explained how everybody knew him. He had his entry everywhere. From the shadiest to the classiest establishment, there was nowhere Bucky couldn’t enter.

She didn’t even try to stay to talk to Cassie, who was goddamn where, and ran straight in her room. Once the door shut, she took a quick breath and gathered her belonging. Once everything packed, she bent to take her shoes off.

She raged when it wouldn’t come off. That’s why she didn’t hear the door open, nor the person come closer to her. The slight touch on her shoulder set her off. She grabbed her gun and spun around, only relaxing when she saw who it was. Bucky. Her entire body sagged. His eyes went from the gun then to her face. He slowly raised his hands high and placed them behind his head.

“My Kitty with a gun?” He half-joked. His pupils were blown and there was no way she could mistake the bulge in his pants.

“You could have knocked,” she groaned, enjoying the brief unproblematic moment between them. She wasn’t really ready to discuss, and it seems that Bucky was thinking the same.

He scrutinized her face and leaned forward, bumping his nose against hers before capturing her lips. The kiss was soft and light.

“Get ready, we’re leaving,” he whispered on her lips.

 The journey back to her home was weird. They had talked about everything but why they met in the strip club. She didn’t know if he wanted her to broach the subject or simply didn’t want to spoil the night.

They made their way to her apartment still skirting around the main topic. Bucky grabbed her wrist and brought her palm to his lips.

“You were mesmerizing tonight, kitty.”

“I know,” she replied, petulant.

Bucky chuckled and shook his head. His head band fell on his shoulder. She caught it before it reached the floor. His silky black hair moved graciously around his face. He extended his hand, but she pocketed the band.

“Nope, you need to let your hair down, tonight.”

Bucky smirked at the innuendo. She turned around and opened her door. Now alone in the small dark room, she felt giddy. Her secret was out, and Bucky hadn’t run away. Well…he also had a big secret, so it was fair.

She took off her shoes and walked back to Bucky who was standing at the same place.

“Make yourself at home,” she said, leaning for a kiss. It never came. “Kiss me, Buck,” she whined.

“Do it yourself.”

Feeling a little less confident, she cleared her throat.

“You know that I…I don’t how to kiss well,” she admitted, self-conscious. She had already told him that her ex used to belittle her and mock everything she did. To him, her cooking was atrocious even though he used to binge and take a plate to his house.

Her kisses or blowjobs were too sloppy, and she didn’t know how to use her tongue, which still didn’t explain why he never lasted. And let’s not talk about her pussy. He found her too loose and wet, to his liking. He used to make fun of her and tell her that she hadn’t really been a virgin before they met, because there was no way she’d be that loose or wet.

She took a shuddered breath and steadied herself. Bucky kissed her forehead.

“I’m not going to laugh at you, baby girl. The woman I’ve seen dancing with sensuality and confidence could never disappoint me and you know it. And if you don’t know how to do something, I’ll teach you. That’s what a lover is for. The same goes for me, too.”

She scoffed. He could talk. He was perfect in every way.

“I know what you’re thinking and no, I’m in no way perfect.” He brushed her neck with his callous hand and grip it tightly. Her eyes fluttered as her anxiety seeped out of her body. He always knew how to ground her. “You, my kitty, are from another world. I won’t die before witnessing your full potential.”

He unclenched his fingers and massaged the base of her neck.

“Now, kiss me,” he ordered with a growl.

She licked her lips nervously but did as she was told. She leaned forward, eyes shutting tight and pressed her lips slightly against his. He didn’t make any move to deepen the kiss.

“Relax,” he murmured, eyes closed.

She grimaced. How could she relax, she was already on edge. If he laughed…she shook her head to erase these thoughts.

She leaned forward and nibble his lower lip. His breath itched. She took it as an incentive to go deeper. It took her a few trials, but once she relaxed, she grew more confident. Her tongue played with Bucky’s who was still not grabbing her by the waist like he used to.

When he said she had to do it herself, he wasn’t joking.

He groaned when she scratched the behind his neck. She swallowed his moan and pressed against him, slowly grinding on his hardness. She could feel his hands trembling as he tried not to touch her.

She broke the kiss, breathing a little too hard. Her vision was blurry, and she felt too tight for her skin. She wanted to drop to her knees and suck him off or fuck his brain out, but first she needed him out of his clothes.

She kneeled and untied his shoes, then took his socks off. She leaned forward and kissed the top of his feet. The tendon under her lips tensed. She didn’t know where it came from but there was a flow of love pouring out of her. She wanted to make him feel cocooned and loved.

She glanced at Bucky to see his reaction. His face was open and young. Here, was this innocence she had the chance to witness whenever he talked about his childhood or what made him truly happy – besides plums. That was when she knew she’d fallen for him.

Eyes still scrutinizing his face, she unbuckled his belt. There was a myriad of emotions in his now opened dark orbs. A few foreign to her and some more familiar. She basked in the unconditional attention he granted her.

She took his jeans off. Then his jacket and shirt and last his boxer. The intimacy and sensuality of simply undressing her lover excited her as much as their usual banter. She felt so close to him. She was the only one who could witness his barriers fall. His vulnerability was a gift. A precious gift she’d protect with her life.

She slowly led him to her bedroom and pushed him on the bed.

The sight took her breath away. From Bucky’s crown of black hair on her red sating sheets and his pale muscle limbs spread on her bed. She licked her lips and undressed herself.

Her dress and panties were quickly discarded as she walked closer to the bed. She climbed on it and stopped at Bucky’s feet.

She took one foot and massaged the sole with confidence. During college she had taken some classes on self-care. It had opened a brand new world to her simple life. Learning how to massage has been thrilling. To know someone’s body and be able to help them relax, hurt them or even excite them without using an excessive amount of force was true power.

The sole of the feet was composed of so many nerves linked to each part of the body, that you could elicit any kind of reaction by massaging them. And tonight, she wasn’t planning on relaxing Bucky. No. A slow mischievous grin appeared on her face. She will edge him all night long.

His erection, which has flagged, was going back to life. Bucky was cursing under his breath and twitching on the bed. She leaned on her right and retrieve her special object.

A cock ring.

Abandoning the foot, she slid the ring around his cock, jerking him off gently. A small bead of precum appeared on the tip. She resisted with all of her might to not suck him and smeared the drop all over the tip. Bucky jerked upright and groaned.

“Kitty, it is a dangerous game you’re playing,” he hissed as she dug deeper into his sole.

“You said I could do whatever I want.”

Bucky chuckled darkly and laid back. “A girl with a body and a mind like yours…I guess the Universe heard me.”

She kissed the top of his foot and massaged the other foot. It didn’t take long for him to writhe on the bed, cock flushing red and muscles tensed.

She scratched her way through his calf, using the hypersensitivity of his arousal to her own goal, and ascended to the apex of his thighs barely avoiding his cock, then traveled back down to his other leg. She repeated her little circuit patiently, each time getting closed to the base of his dick.

Bucky’s hands were clenched on her silky sheets. If she didn’t have another set, she’d slap his hand away. Satin sheets were quite expensive, and she held dear to her heart these specific ones.

“Fuck, baby girl, why are you being such a tease?” He moaned.

“A tease?” she asked amused. “You think THAT is me being a tease?”

Bucky raised his head and looked at her suspiciously. His eyes grew wider when he realized what she had in store for him. He shook his head vehemently, pleas falling from his red lips. She slowly took a slow, torturous, lick from his balls to the crown of his dick and only stopping where the pinkish tip started. The more she licked him and denied him his sweet release the more his body grew tenser. She wasn’t even sure he was aware of that in the state he was. He was shivering and trembling. His moans had long turned into babbles.

She took pity on her boyfriend and allowed him to take a few breaths and relax. Then she went back to work. One lick after the other until his dick was covered with her saliva.

She stopped again.

Bucky took a big gulf of air, eyes firmly shut. She waited for him to let his guard down. She wanted him raw, on the edge.

It took a few minutes, but he did let go. He unclenched his fingers from the soft fabric and relaxed.

“Now”, she coached herself.

Before he knew it, she gently grabbed his dick and swallowed him all she could fit in her mouth and throat.

The scream he let out was…delectable. She had to physically press her clit to stop herself from climaxing.  His voice was so raw and broken, like a man who finally accepted his fate. He was at her mercy.

She bobbed her head enjoying the bittersweet taste of precum. She moaned and swirl her tongue around his tip.

“Kitty!” he cried out as she once again swallowed him whole. His entire back was arched and his hands in rolled into fists next to him. She admired his resistance and strong mind. She knew how much he loved to control her pace and use her as he pleased.

Well, not tonight.

She let go of his dick in a wet pop. She crawled her way to his torso peppering his sweaty chest with feather-like kisses.

He only twitched when she bit his nipple. Maybe a little groan but nothing more. She kept getting higher and stopped in front of his face.

His eyes were blown out. There was more black than grey in his glassy eyes. Even if she was in front of him, he barely registered her. Pleas escaped his mouth.

Already delirious and she hadn’t started.

“How are you Mister Winter Soldier?”

Bucky’s eyes suddenly snapped straight to hers. She didn’t know why she said his mafia name, but she’d do it again only to see his reaction. He inhaled sharply and his entire demeanor changed. His then tensed body was now relaxed and although his eyes were black, there was a coldness to them that said that he was capable of beating the shit out of everyone.

There was something indescribable with how she felt right now. This man was in her bed. Boneless. Compliant.

If he wanted, he could do whatever he wanted with her. Fuck her 6 ways to Sunday and she’d beg for more.

“Go on, Kitty. I know you are not done,” he whispered with his raspy voice. A little knowing smile played on his lips.

She grabbed his dick and sunk on it with no preambule. Or at least she tried. She bounced slowly on his dick but struggled to get the angle right. She groaned as she felt more uncomfortable.

“Gosh, whether my pussy is broken, or you are way bigger than I thought.”

Bucky barked a short laugh. “I didn’t lie last time.”

“I thought you lied. My ex also lied about that…” She stopped talking, completely embarrassed and buried her head into Bucky’s chest. “Fuck, I’m sorry to talk about my ex.”

Bucky, for the first time of the night, touched her. He caressed her back and kissed the top of her head.

“You see how hard I am. There is no problem. Unless you want to talk about it,” he offered softly.

She shook her head, still avoiding looking at him.

“I want to hear your sweet voice, Baby Girl.”

“No, I don’t want to talk about it…”

“But?”

The demons in her head were hard to forget and push away. Before she could think, the words slipped out of her mouth.

“Don’t you think I’m too wet?” she asked with a tiny voice.

Contrary to what she expected, Bucky didn’t reply nor laughed at her stupid insecurity. She raised her head and was confronted dark eyes. She shrunk under the intense gaze.

“If you weren’t wet, I would be worried,” he replied, one eyebrow raised.

“That’s not what I mean,” she whined, head still hidden on his chest.

Bucky embraced her and rolled them over, until he was caging her with his arms.

“What do you mean, then?” he asked patiently.

His hips were still against hers. His dick was inside her and the stretch was getting a little too torturous. If he just moved a little bit, he’d be able to press on her spot. God…he didn’t even know how difficult it was getting for her to concentrate. Her entire mind was focus on his dick. She tried hard to not think about it…to avoid thinking about what could happen…what usually happened at the end.

She only hoped she wouldn’t squirt. God, no. She closed her eyes and pressed her palms against them. The last time had been horrifying enough, she wasn’t sure her heart would handle it if Bucky was disgusted by her.

“Baby Girl, what is it?” There was a hit of worry in his voice. “Do you want to stop? Say the word and we’ll cuddle for the night.”

She struggled to find the proper words. Bucky took her silence as a yes and started moving out. She quickly wrapped her legs around his waist and held him close.

“I don’t want you to be disgusted and leave me,” she said with a tiny voice.

Bucky pushed her hands away from her eyes and gazed into her eyes. Concern clouded his dark orbs and his mouth was set in a painful rictus.

“Why? Why would I be disgusted? Why would I leave you?”

She wanted to shrug and drop the subject. But there was no way Bucky wouldn’t questioned her until he got his answer. The thought brought some ill-timed pictures. Unwillingly, her pussy throbbed as a few images flashed through her mind.

She imagined his callous hands spanking her cheeks, leaving their mark. He’d tease her for hours, methodically pushing her to the edge, manipulating her body like an instrument he’d know too well.

“Kitty…” He warned her. “Don’t try to make me cum before we cleared this out…or you’ll regret it.”

She shivered at the prospect of the what if. A sharp pain cleared her thoughts. Bucky was squeezing her left nipple. She hissed.

“It hurts…” she complained, pouting.

“That’s exactly why your pussy is leaking right now.” He said, sarcastically. He released her nipple and licked the tender bead. She immediately pressed against him, moaning as more of his dick entered her. Bucky buckled pressing into her.

She let out a silent scream as the larger part of his dick slid in, snugged tightly. Every breath she took, every time she moved, she could feel him. He was so deep and…

“Bucky…” she whined, trying to make him move.

He released her nipple in a wet pop.

“Nope, you gotta to answer me, first and I’ll move.”

“Bucky!” she cried out eyes full of tears.

“Nope, Baby girl.”

She racked her brain to focus on the answer, which would come. The only thing her brain could focus on his Bucky’s pulsating dick in her.

“If you don’t talk, I’ll move out.”

She bit back a cry and forced herself with every inch of desperation to concentrate.

“My ex…” She swallowed and huffed when the rest of the sentence died even in her mind. What did she want to say, again? She closed her eyes firmly. “My ex used to make fun of me because I’m too wet and…and…I squirt.”

“You what?” He yelped, incredulous.

She froze mortified. Oh my God, he is going to leave me, she thought hysterically. The entire situation was a nightmare. Who had this kind of discussion in bed with their partner? Why was that always her?

She felt him thrust out and tears started pooling in her eyes. That’s it, he is going to leave…

She moaned surprised when he thrusted back in. He gently worked himself in and out. She opened her eyes and stared into his. Why? She mouthed. His eyes shone with joy and

“There is really a God up there because you are straight from my dreams.”

She didn’t know how to react nor take what he said. Her emotions were on a rollercoaster and she almost too taken aback to realize what he implied.

He leaned thrusting deep into her. She moaned through her half open mouth. Bucky kissed her, swallowing her moans.

The drag of his dick on her sweet spot and the warm body caging her, got her to new heights. Pleasure ran through each nerve of her body.

“God, you feel…” his hips met her in a squelching noise. “You are so wet…so good to me…”

She basked in the comments and finally let her tears down. She felt so loved and protected…She moaned his name, scratching his back as he went faster. The muscles under her hands tensed.

“I’m going to make you come first…” he whispered to himself. “…have to…”

He accelerated. He pounded into her, beating her spot with precision. She gasped, twitched trying to close her legs as the pressure grew under her clit. She tried to warn him that she’ll make a mess…that it was gross but…

“Let go…I know you want to come…” He growled above her. He slapped her clit a few times. And she came. The first spurt surprised her. She tried to hide behind her hands, but Bucky didn’t care. He slid out.

“I’m so sorry Buck…” she half cried-moaned as pleasure overtook her body. Her apologies died when she felt his hot mouth on her pussy. She jerked upright and fell back at the ungodly sight.

Bucky was drinking her…her walls spasmed. God, it shouldn’t feel that good.

“It’s gross…Bucky,” she moaned.

The slurping sound doubled. His tongue circled her clit. She went limp as her plunged two fingers into her. He automatically found her sweet spot and massaged it.

Her toes curled and she screamed his name as she came for the second time.

She almost blacked out. Pleasure turned to a more painful side, but she felt so empty. She wanted him to cum inside her, to make her full of his cum.

“That’s okay baby. I’m here,” he soother her, peppering her body of feather-like kisses.

She shook her head in denial. He kissed her jaw.

“What was that you said earlier? It’s gross?” She scrunched her nose when he kissed her lips. “If it was disgusting do you think I’ll drink it?”

“I’ve seen you eat some more than questionable things,” she complained, half-heartedly.

“True,” he chuckled. “And so do you. Now kiss me.”

“Not that again,” she groaned.

“Kiss me.”

She gave up and pressed her lips against his. Her tongue invade his mouth with no leftover shyness. The lack of nauseous taste surprised her. She sucked the tip of his tongue. He moaned and laid totally onto her, her legs wrapped around his waist. She unconsciously moved against his hardness trying to get him in.

The aftertaste was…normal. There was nothing different from her wetness when she was arousal. She released his mouth softly. Bucky’s head fell in the crook of her neck.

“You were right. It doesn’t taste bad.”

Bucky stayed silent. She nudged him and he mumbled something unintelligibly.

“Bucky!”

“I’m trying to stay conscious. You teased the hell out of me, you cried and admitted to be very much perfect. I’m sure your pussy swallowed more than my dick. Your juices may have satisfied my thirst but your kiss made all of the last braincells disappear.”

“You sound perfectly fine for someone whose braincells are gone,” she noticed, amused.

He opened blearily his eyes.

“Hardy har. Now can I come, or do you have more games in store for me?”

“Should have teased you some more,” she complained, dramatically.

“Yep. You know what you should have done?” he asked huskily, slowly raising upright. He kissed the tip of her nose.

She shook her head. One hand snaking in between their bodies to his dick, he slapped her hole a few times. His hand came back into view with the cockring. He presented the plastic ring to her mouth. She wordlessly opened her mouth and bit it.

“You should have restrained me to the bed…” he pressed the tip on his dick in her hole. “…sat on my face…” he entered her painfully slow. “…rode my face…” she closed her yes and forced herself to keep the cockring in her mouth. “…and squirt all over my face.”

He slammed into her eliciting a muffled scream. Her entire back arched off the bed. He didn’t once let her get used to his big dick nor slowed down.

He pounded her like he knew she’d take it.

“Fuck!” He swore. He slid out, turned her over. Before she could react, he thrusted right back in. Deeper. Her eyes rolled. She drooled all over her pillows, hand fisted tight onto the sheet.

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” He groaned above her. “Would have fucked you in that strip club… at least make you suck my dick…”

He gripped her hips, forcing her onto her knees. He nudged her legs open and plunged right back in, in a wet noise.

“Fucking whore!” He growled, spanking her cheeks brutally. He spread them open and spat on her twitching butthole. He pressed his thumb slightly in. She vainly complained. “I should have fucked your ass too…Tomorrow you’ll warm my dick...”

She moaned and pushed back against meeting each of his thrusts with eagerness.

He swore under his breath. “Fucking slut…wet my dick so nicely…just for me…”

He leaned forward and whispered into her ear. “My whore.”

She came untouched. The words replayed in her mind endlessly. Only yours, she thought dozily. Her body tensed but it didn’t slow him down. His thrusts grew shallowed and more violent. She stayed on her knee by the sheer strength of her mind and the pressure of his hands on her hips. She’d bruise for sure. She moaned happily. He’ll leave a mark on her.

“Such a good slut for me…make me wanna come ‘gain and I still didn’t you breed you.”

His groans turned into loud moans. His hips stuttered then finally came to and halt. She felt warmth coating her wall and her pussy spasmed vas a valiant effort to come again.

“Yes…” he hissed. “Massage my dick, Kitty, you were born to do it.”

She contracted her sore walls. He finally stopped and fell on her back.

His dick still spurted his cum into her. He embraced her pulling her closer.

“Always have a big load…” he explained, nuzzled on her back. “…be so full of me, like a good girl.”

She keened at the compliment and closed her eyes.

“Yours,” she whispered.

“Mine. I’ll kill everyone who dares touch you.”

“M’ too.”

Bucky chuckled. “I know. My Kitty is deadly.”

 Part 3 

[thebiscuiteternal]

“Once More, Again” Gen, Reincarnation, Yunmeng Reconciliation, Fluff and Angst, Creepy Frogs, Promises of Cats

__________

The night hunt wasn't supposed to be a big deal at all. A flock of possessed birds had scared a caravan of travelers away from their camps. A simple cleanup job, one that didn't really even need him.

Then one of his disciples comes running up in a barely concealed panic.

"Jiang-zongzhu, we have a... problem."

Coiling up Zidian to return her to her ring shape, Jiang Cheng scowls at the man. "What kind of problem? Is there another flock?"

"Ah- no... it's..."

A loud wail breaks through the trees, the source easily pinpointed as the small, dirty girl one another disciple is gently trying to shush as she guides the child into the clearing.

"That's our problem," the first disciple says, scratching the back of his head. "We found her in what was left of the camp, but none of the caravan members claim her."

"No one at all?"

"They say they have no idea who she is. She doesn't feel like she's connected to the birds, but-"

Scowl deepening, he goes to the child and crouches down. Surprisingly, she stops crying the moment she's aware of his presence. Scrubbing her eyes with the heels of her hands, she raises her head to stare at him.

He involuntarily sucks in a sharp breath.

The shape of her jaw and nose, the tilt of her brow, the spatter of freckles across her nose and cheeks, those are all different, but looking into bright silver eyes, he knows- he knows it can't be anyone else.

Sniffling quietly, Jiang Yanli reaches for the hem of his sleeve and clutches tight.

Little Meilin has been fed and bathed and safely ensconced in a veritable nest of blankets in the guest room closest to his own before he feels like he can breathe again.

Asleep and smiling, her hair shining from the oil one of the aunties had put in it, she looks like she has been living in Lotus Pier her whole life.

Or like she never left.

He closes his eyes and lets his head fall back against the wall.

No. No that's not fair.

He won't make her live in someone else's shadow. Even if she carries the same soul, she is Meilin, not Jiang Yanli and must be treated as such.

He briefly considers not telling Wei Wuxian. Wouldn't this fall squarely into that "past life" bullshit of his?

He sighs. Again, no.

Maybe it's a sign of weakness on his part, but he summons up a butterfly messenger. With a short succinct "A-jie reincarnated and is staying in Lotus Pier," he sends it off. He will contact Jin Ling properly in the morning.

---

"This better not be a trick, Jiang Cheng. That'd be low even for you."

Jiang Cheng freezes like he's been stabbed. He stares at the other man, looking for any sign of one of his usual bad taste jokes, but Wei Wuxian is pale and disheveled and angry and... oh. He really does think Jiang Cheng would lie about this to lure him back to Lotus Pier. After everything, he still...

He can't muster up any anger for this. He just feels tired all of a sudden, all the way into the marrow of his bones, and he doesn't want to be here anymore. "Liu Jiao will show you to her rooms," he says dully as he motions one of the maids who has been helping with Meilin forwards. Then he turns and leaves without waiting to see what kind of reaction Wei Wuxian has to that.

He's fleeing and he knows they can tell and he can't bring himself to care.

He tries to throw himself into work as a distraction, but quickly finds he can't concentrate for shit. After his fourth failed attempt at penning the necessary letter to Jin Ling, he decides he might as well give up.

Pointedly avoiding both Meilin's room and the area where he'd left Wei Wuxian and his ever-glowering husband, he heads out to one of the lesser-used piers. Workers gathering the autumn flowers wave in greeting, but thankfully give him space, and he settles in to watch and hopefully not do too much thinking.

---

It's nearly sunset and he's starting to doze a little when the pounding of tiny feet against the planks of the pier startle him fully awake. A giggling squeal of "Cheng-ge!" is all the warning he gets before his lap is suddenly full of squirming child.

"Cheng-ge? Who's Cheng-ge? Are we so familiar, now?" he chides with no actual bite at all as he flicks a button nose and her grin only gets even bigger. "Someone's been teaching you cheek, A-Lin."

"Can't possibly imagine anyone who would dare."

The flinch is entirely involuntary and he tries to smooth it over, but little fingers dig into his robe and he sees worry flicker over those bright eyes.

"Cheng-ge?"

"It's nothing," he says, patting her hair, then braces himself and looks up. It catches him off guard again to find Wei Wuxian watching him with a look of regret... maybe even apology.

"Mind if I sit?"

"Whether I say yes or no, you will anyway, so I might as well say yes." He'd intended it to come out sharp, the retaliation that he hadn't been able to manage earlier, but has much less heat and much more resignation than intended. Maybe it's because of that change that Wei Wuxian actually hesitates.

"If you want me to go-"

Leaning out of his lap, but refusing to get up or let go of his robes, A-Lin reaches out and tugs on Wei Wuxian's trousers in a clear demand.

Well... Maybe some things don't change, he thinks, rueful smile mirrored on his former shixiong's face as the latter obeys and kneels down beside them.

They sit in awkward silence, bound together by tiny hands holding a vice grip their clothing, until croaking songs begin ringing out from near the water and A-Lin perks up.

"Frogs! Cheng-ge, Xian-ge, can I catch one?"

He expects Wei Wuxian to automatically take over and say yes, but when he turns his head, the other man is just... watching him again.

He shakes it off and taps A-Lin on the forehead. "Boots off and let me tie up your skirts. If you get too muddy, the maids will throw you in a bath before they'll let you have dinner."

The girl wrinkles her nose, then nods and begins wrestling off her left. Practice born from another very squirmy child lets him work easily around her efforts, and she is shortly running off, laughter ringing behind her.

"You're... good with kids."

He scowls at Wei Wuxian. "That would be more of a compliment if you didn't sound so surprised," he says flatly.

"Ah." Wei Wuxian has the barest grace to look embarrassed, turning his gaze to the planks under him as he scratches his cheek. "Well... when I first met Jin Ling, he was such a brat, and then when I thought of who raised him-"

"Seriously not helping your case."

"Ugh, would you let me finish? Anyway, it turned out he was a good kid under all the thorn brambles. Which, again, considering who raised him-"

He really doesn't have the mental fortitude for this right now, he decides. Biting the inside of his cheek, he starts to get up, but a hand gripping his wrist stops him. "Wei Wu-"

"Please."

He squeezes his eyes shut.

Then he sits back down.

The hand on his wrist doesn't let go, and when he forces his eyes back open, Wei Wuxian is staring at that point of contact between them, thumb brushing absently against one of the tendons in an old familiar gesture. "When I got your message, I almost passed out," he finally says. "I was so afraid to let myself believe it. I thought I couldn't possibly be lucky enough for it to be true. I know I don't deserve for it to be true. I convinced myself you had to be lying, because somehow that actually hurt less than the possibility she was really here."

Jiang Cheng swallows back the pain that swells in his chest. His mouth tastes bitter. "Still not helping your case," he mutters.

But he still doesn't pull himself free.

Wei Wuxian laughs, the sound small and pained. "I know, I know."

"I did what you wanted," Jiang Cheng snaps, unable to stop himself. "This whole year, I-"

"I know." The grip on his wrist tightens and Wei Wuxian inhales shakily. "You did nothing to deserve it and I thought the worst of you anyway. I'm sorry."

He doesn't know how to respond to that, but he's saved from having to figure it out when a tiny figure stumbles along the docks, soaking wet and clutching one of the biggest lake frogs he's ever seen, short of a frog demon. "Did you fall in?" he asks, getting up again. "You look like a drowned-"

"He knocked me over! Look how fat he is!"

Big shiny eyes blink at him from the nest of her arms, then the creature makes a croak that makes the hair on the back of his neck stand up.

Maybe it is a frog demon.

A baby one, or something.

Wei Wuxian looks similarly nonplussed when he joins them, eyeing the frog with clear discomfort. "Eh... meimei, maybe you should let that one hop on home, yeah?"

"Aw, but he likes me!"

It does indeed seem to be very comfortable with being cuddled, which doesn't improve his opinion of it one bit. "We'll let someone look it over while you're In your bath," he says, subtly elbowing Wei Wuxian when it looks like the other might argue.

Fortunately, the other man catches on and nods. "Have to make sure he's nice and healthy."

"Okaaayyy."

---

"This is the creepiest thing I've ever seen."

Jiang Cheng can't argue with that, especially since the frog he's now definitely sure is some kind of demon is becoming creepier by the moment. Already, Wei Wuxian' prodding has caused it to turn from brown to a vague shade of greenish-purple and belch smoke.

When it opens a third eye, Lan Wangji has apparently had enough. "It should be exterminated," he says, starting to draw Bichen.

The frog hisses.

Hisses, showing off rows and rows of very un-frog-like fangs.

"Oh, fu-"

---

"Where is QiaoQiao?"

"You named it-"

"Escaped," Lan Wangji cuts in before Wei Wuxian can finish boggling at the choice.

"Yes, it escaped," Jiang Cheng says, mentally refusing to acknowledge that they agreed on the excuse. A-Lin pouts, and he gently ruffles her still-damp hair. "You can chase frogs any time you like, you know."

"But QiaoQiao was special."

That's... one way of putting it, he thinks as he tries not to shudder. "Why don't we find you something else special? What other animals do you like?"

"Hmnh... I like cats?"

"We can do cats. We'll find you the best cat," Wei Wuxian says, clearly relieved to hear no mention of dogs or more frogs.

Jiang Cheng allows it.

A loud rumble, far too loud for the tiny body that makes it, cuts into the conversation, and A-Lin hugs his sleeve to hide her face going bright red. "'m hungry," she mumbles into the cloth sheepishly, and he can't help the smile that tugs at his mouth as he crouches to scoop her up onto his hip.

"I think we're all hungry. Let's go see what the kitchens have in store for us tonight, hm?"

---

Having already seen A-Lin eat once already, Jiang Cheng takes more than a small amount of enjoyment in watching Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji openly stare as she inhales a fifth meat bun without chewing or coming up for air.

"What are you, a snake yao?" Wei Wuxian asks when he remembers how to work his jaw.

She puffs her cheeks at Wei Wuxian in an adorably offended huff. "I said I was hungry."

"No shi- kidding," Wei Wuxian quickly amends when Jiang Cheng glares. Then he grins. "How do you feel about spicier food?"

"You are not corrupting her with your chili oil addiction."

"It's not an addiction-"

"I wanna try. Can I try?"

His first instinct is to say absolutely not. But two pairs of eyes are giving him the soulful pleading look, and he sighs and fights the urge to roll his own. "Fine. But only a little," he says, picking up the bottle himself because Wei Wuxian wouldn't recognize the concept of "a little" if it bit him in the ass. "Chew this time."

"Well?" Wei Wuxian asks as she swallows the bite.

"It's okay."

He resolutely does not smirk at his former shixiong's crestfallen expression.

"Only okay?"

"Hot is good, but smoky is better," A-Lin pronounces with all the gravitas of a trained food expert, and both Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian can't help grinning at that.

"Everyone's a critic," Wei Wuxian says as he elbows his husband, who has a sleeve over his mouth in a clear attempt to pretend he's not been charmed as well.

Jiang Cheng is absolutely not smug about that.

---

"So, what are you going to do?"

Dessert is long gone, Lan Wangji has retired to bed, and the three of them are left sitting in the main hall, A-Lin clinging to his robes with honey-sticky fingers as she sleeps.

"We'll put out word, but unless someone comes to claim her, she'll stay here." Wei Wuxian continues to stare at him with that inscrutable expression, and he finally sighs. "I'm not going to turn her into A-jie. Past lives should stay in the past, remember?"

Wei Wuxian flinches and looks away.

Good.

The silence stretches long again, then his former shixiong huffs quietly. "I don't..." he starts, then licks his lips nervously and changes whatever tack he was about to take. "How are you planning on raising her, then?"

He gently pets long hair, and A-Lin responds by burrowing against his chest and shoving her face against his collar. "To figure herself out. If she wants to cook, if she wants to cultivate... hell, if she wants to make a living catching frogs, that's up to her. She's already put in her duty to this family."

"Good. That... That's good."

Still petting soft, fine hair, Jiang Cheng considers his next words carefully. "Until she's old enough to travel easily, you know she's going to demand visits from her Xian-ge."

Wei Wuxian stiffens and his head snaps up. "And... you... You're okay with that?" he asks, a faint glimmer of something akin to hope in his expression.

"At least until you deliver that cat you promised," Jiang Cheng says dryly. "I'm holding you to that. In writing, if I have to."

"You would," Wei Wuxian replies, rolling his eyes, but there is no missing the relief in his posture.

Nor the loss of tension in the room.

[lastluvbug]

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR DOING MY REQUEST since love it so much, I'm asking another one! This time it's gonna be full on angst but there will be happy ending so let's get started! =D can you do a request with a mc who had a terrible back story of abuse? She ended up losing her eye when she was four years old because her father threw a wine bottle at her and age blames herself because he killed her late older sibling and mom when she tried to cheer him up by playing a mini harp? Can be with anyone.

Very angsty, I’ll see what I can do!

Warnings: Mentioned/referenced abuse, mentioned self harm, drinking, and langauge. If sensitive, please do not read!

A Sweet Melody

Once upon a time, music had been so precious to Yuu. It had been her world, her rock, her solace when she couldn’t sleep at night.

She’d pull out her harp, and hum a tune in sync with her elegant plucking. She remembered those nights, dreamt of how free and pure the sound was, how calm she felt as the tension was poured into her song.

She remembered how much her mother and sister loved to listen—after a stressful day, before school, a nighttime lullaby.

All of it seemed so distant, like a fragmented dream that only appeared in flashes, gone so quick the only trace left was the bitterly addictive flavor of nostalgia on her tongue.

Music now was nothing more than a hatred whorled spit in her face. Music had been the thing to lead her younger sister and mother into their coffins six feet below ground. Music had driven her father insane.

It started when she was just barely out of her toddler years, when Yuu was first gifted the stringed instrument. While it overjoyed her to have something so beautiful, her father was nearly steaming with rage.

Yuu’s family was the farthest thing from rich. Her parents worked two, three jobs at a time, hardly creating a stable income as her father squandered his opportunities again and again. Over the course of her short life, Yuu often found herself to be at the receiving end of his fury, whether that mean harsh chastisment scented of alcohol on the smallest of mistakes, or a plain backhand across the cheek.

The day before, Yuu’s father had wasted yet another night at the bar, filling himself the disgustingly thin liquid until he couldn’t walk, nor speak.

“You bitch! How did you afford that? You doin’ something behind my back? Is that it?” He bellowed at her mother, Yuu standing in front of her one year old sister defensively as he stood from the rugged couch, stumbling over to the cluttered counter.

“Dear, please. It was just a gift!”

“Don’t raise your voice at me! How did you afford it?!” He grabbed her mother’s arm roughly, twisting it with his superior strength as she bit back a wince too late.

“Daddy! Don’t hurt her! She just wanted to do something nice!” Yuu interjected, latching onto his free hand.

“Get off me, brat. If it weren’t for little money suckers like you, we would’ve been dining like kings!” He slapped Yuu away, the short girl tripping over her feet and landing on her side.

From across the room, her sister began to wail, clutching her hand-me-down stuffed pet and wiping away fat tears. Yuu noticed how her father whipped his head to the child, eyes ablaze with a plan to shut her up. Acting quickly, Yuu rushed to her baby sister, pulling her out of the kitchen and up to her bed, where she tucked her in.

“Don’t get violent! Not on our daughter’s birthday!” Her mother shrieked as Yuu tramped back into the kitchen, freezing as her father slapped her mother.

“Shut up! You don’t understand what you’ve done, woman!” Just as her father raised his hand to strike her mother yet again, Yuu threw herself into him, temporarily knocking him off balance.

“No, Daddy! Leave Mom alone!” She stood in front of her mother, who fell to the ground on her knees, her arm out beside her as she tried to protect her despite only having just turned four.

A black rage darker than Yuu had ever seen laced every muscle and tendon in her father’s face, fear spiking through her heart and crumbling her resolve as the man recovered from his shock, standing to his full height. “So you think you’re better than me now? You think you can stand up to me? You’re father?” His hand trailed across the counter, searching.

“Dad...?” Yuu began trembling.

“I’ll teach you...” he mumbled, towering above his daughter, “I’ll teach you to stand up to me!”

He raised his hand, and in that split moment, his eyes were clearer than Yuu had ever seen before. He moved with such swiftness, it made her wonder why he’d never invested such concise movements into playing with her or her sister, why he sat drinking his life away on the couch instead of helping her mother work.

That was the last thought she had, before her world was sliced in two.

First, it was the immobilizing pain that made her drop to the floor. Her bones groaned in response to being dropped so unceremoniously on the tile, but was little heeded as her head blew up in flame, her scalp stinging like a thousand wasp penetrations as something warm and sticky dripped down her tear streaked cheeks.

She hardly recognized the scream that pierced the air as she looked around, hand wandering to her eye as she realized... it wasn’t working. She could only see out of her right, and the left was pure, black darkness, not even the silhouette of the room appearing in the emptiness. Yuu stared at the floor, at the blood falling from her face and onto the glass shatterer before her, encircling her like a broken cage.

Her ears rung, and she couldn’t process what happened next. Briefly, she recalled being carried, the sound of her irregular heartbeat, and the flooding of throbbing lights as she faded in and out of consciousness.

Yuu had her father’s words left in her head, imprinted in her brain like a branded cow. “Next time, learn to hold your tongue, bitch.”

All her life she carried the reminder of that day, marred upon her skin and forever labeling her as the “Outcast.” She never saw herself as beautiful from that time forward, and after the death of her mother and sister a mere two years later, never spoke unless spoken to.

<————>

Yuu awoke with a start, being shaken by someone rather roughly.

“Yuu? Wake up, class ended.”

The girl looked to the source of the sound, meeting the wide eyed and worried face of her only friend in all of Night Raven. “...My apologies, Epel...” She mumbled, lifting herself from her crossed arms.

“It’s alright, just... what was your dream about?” Epel asked, standing beside her.

“Nothing i-important, why?”

“You’ve been crying.”

“Hm?” She reach up to her cheeks, her fingers wiping something wet streaked down the plains of her face. “Ah... It really was nothing.” She waved off his inquiry, as well as her tears with her sleeve, seeing that Grim had already long since left her behind.

“If you say so... hey! Since it seems yer—ahem, you’re, not busy, did you want to come with me back to Pomefiore? All this time, and you’ve never been, right?” Epel prompted, making Yuu look up at him from her seat.

“Go with you to Pomefiore? A-Are you sure that would be fine? You guys are known for your beauty, I don’t think I would be very welcome...” Yuu shyly said, ghosting over her scarred eye.

“With the way Vil primps himself daily, I doubt anyone would notice you. Not to mention Rook—the guy’s lost one too many of his screws. He’ll probably be kissing up to our marvelous dorm head, so I’ll be off the hook.”

“What would... what would we even do?”

“We could study? I know I’ve been failing pretty terribly in some of my classes. Or... oh! Come with me!” Epel took Yuu’s hand, dragging her fragile figure down the hallways.

“What? What’re we doing?” Yuu asked, jogging to keep up with the boy.

“We’re going to the kitchens!” Epel laughed, sparking the girl’s confusion.

It was a bumpy run, the two weaving between students rather easily thanks to their short statures, and rounding corner after corner until they approached the gran cafeteria. Following their beelines, they pushed through the rows of starving students, barreling into the back kitchens pleasantly smelling of a mix of foods.

Yuu kept her mouth shut, following timidly behind Epel as she subconsciously covered her eye with a hand, glancing around nervously. Only a handful of people looked her way, that she could tell, and either smiled or laughed, both reactions causing her ears to redden.

“Okay, do me a favor, would you?” Epel broke the tension, turning to Yuu.

“S-Sure.” She answered, biting her tongue for stuttering.

“Grab the peeler and a few of the carving knives. I’ll get the stuff from the fridge!” He gestured towards the row of drawers, Yuu simply nodding.

She watched as Epel bounced to the largely oversized refrigerators, refusing conversation but smiling to himself. She’d never say, her voice hushed from years of humiliation, but she loved the way his soft purple locks fell over his shoulders, or the way his powdery blue eyes sparkled every time he laughed.

It took all of her will power to keep herself from tearing up, that light he shone reminding her too much of her forever dimmed sister’s.

Turning back to her own job, she searched through the drawers, pulling out her materials, nicking her finger on the peeler. Staring at the glimmery bead as it snaked its way down her hand, her body briefly remembered the feeling of metal slicing through her skin, long since healed over her wrists, but recorded upon it nevertheless.

Once upon a time, she’d been so broken that the only sort of release she could find was through blades. The one who’d helped her through those seemingly endless hours of struggle was none other than Epel Felmier.

When Yuu first met Epel, she was a stuttering, anxious mess, tripping over her words and avoiding eye contact like it was the plague. Epel was no better himself, holding his tongue and only making the smallest of conversations. If it weren’t for the one day he caught her stained in her own blood and sobbing in a restroom stall, Yuu believed without a doubt that there’d be no one by her side.

“Yuu! Ready to go?” Epel tore the meddling girl from her mind, who wiped the bead on her pants and carefully arranged the blades in her arms.

“Yes, let’s go.” Yuu nodded, supprssing her inner turmoil.

She’d put that behind her, and had long since forgotten her practices of old.

Epel gave her a soft smile, a bag of scarlet apples dangling from his hand as he encouraged her to go forward.

<————>

“Yuu, quick! Hide over there!”

The girl leapt back, disguising herself behind the curtains draped over a window as Epel stood in front of it, feigning ignorance.

“Ah, you runaway fiend! The great trouble you cause dear Vil! He wishes for your presence in the ballroom immediately.” An extravagantly dramatic voice cooed, and from her spot behind the curtain, Yuu could just barely make out the sight of blonde hair covered by a rather stylish hunting hat.

“Rook-san...! Lovely to see you as well. Actually, I can’t join you today, I’ve uh—I’ve come down with a terrible headache. Send Vil my apologies!” Epel not so cleverly lied.

“Is that so? Would those be get-well fruits then?”

“H-huh? Oh these? These are... well, Crowley gave them to me, said they were a gift from my hometown! I figured I’da bring ‘em to my room, y’know, n’ keep ‘em safe!” Yuu cringed to herself, knowing all too well that Epel was not selling his act.

“Oh my, Epel-kun, please. You may return to your quarters, but do something about that distasteful chatter of yours.” Rook croned, tipping his hat and heading off.

“Tch, “distasteful chatter”? Stupid beauty, what do they know anyway?” Epel grumbled, stepping away from the curtain as Rook’s figure faded away. He pried it open, the sudden flush of light causing Yuu to wince. “We’re alone, you can come out now.”

“Why don’t they like your accent, Epel? Aren’t they beauty enthusiasts?” Yuu asked, stepping into the open hall.

“Hell if I know. They only care about your face, not whatever you are on the inside. It reminds me of the poison apple the legends talk about; gorgeous to the eye, death to the soul.” Epel frowned, slinging his sack over his shoulder.

Yuu deflated, taking the words to heart. If that was true, then she was most surely not welcome in a dorm as proper as Pomefiore. “In any case, let’s just hurry to my room. They usually don’t bother me there.” Epel continued, storming down the corridor.

“Right...” Yuu followed, suddenly feeling unbearably self conscious.

Much to her surprise, the dorm looked empty as Ramshackle, not a single person lounging around or even passing by as they walked. “Where is everyone?” She thought, readjusting the dangerous items as Epel kicked a door open, allowing Yuu inside, almost gasping as she stood at the doorway.

The room was wide and quaint, with a large bay window, an intricately designed table, and a four poster bed that instantly made Yuu jealous. “Impressive, right? I honestly think it’s too much, even tried to convince Vil to give me something smaller.”

“I-I can’t believe this is your room... it’s so pretty...” Yuu marveled, setting her instruments on the table.

“Take a seat, we’re going to be here a while.” Epel instructed, laying his bag down and grinning impishly.

<————>

“I’m done! I’m done—I did it! Look Epel, look!” Yuu burst what seemed like hours later, hands flying to her mouth after she realized how loud she’d been.

“It’s a little lopsided, and it’s not symmetrical, but it looks great! Almost subpar for a rookie!” Epel clapped, looking up from his own work.

Yuu squinted, holding up what she thought was her masterpiece. The apples that Epel had brought were used to teach her how to carve delicate pictures and designs into their flawless flesh, some of which were horribly mutilated in the process, but in the end led to the beautiful fruity art before her. “I don’t see anything wrong with it... you’re such a difficult person to impress, Epel.” Yuu whined, comparing her apple to his.

“Ah relax! I’m just messin’ around!” He joked, waving his hand. He laughed at her dumbfounded face, ruffling her hair in an older-sibling like way, and for once, Yuu found herself smirking, if only in the slightest way.

“Epel Felmier! Do my ears deceive me or are you really—pardon?” Both teens froze in place as Epel’s door flew open, welcoming in a tall boy dressed in Pomefiore’s overly pompous uniform, head adorned with the same hat Yuu saw behind the curtain.

She flinched as his gaze settled on her, and she instinctually pressed a hand over her eye, concealing the horror that further proved the loss of her vision. “Rook, get out! Who do you think you are, barging in like that?” Epel complained, rushing over to the senior and attempting to push him away.

He was abrubtly dropped on the floor as Rook swerved around the boy, stalking closer to Yuu like a predator. “What have we here? Who might you be?” He asked, scrutinizing her face.

“Rook, leave her alone!” Epel demanded, pushing himself from the floor.

Too easily, the blonde pried her hand away, observing the story written in scars over the left side of her complexion. “Oh my...” Rook stared and stared, unexpressive and too close for comfort.

Tears started to brim in Yuu’s eyes, and using what little strength she had compared to the taller boy’s, she ripped herself away, running out of the room and down the hall.

Her heart raced in her veins, in her ears, as she flew down the forever twisting and turning passages, this time crowded with people. She could only dodge and weave between them, with their questioning gazes burning holes into her skull as tears dripped onto the flooring.

Yuu couldn’t seem to escape, the walls wanted to enclose around her, stretching and warping as the path swayed beneath her feet. She could do nothing but dizzily run away, mind lost in her own abyss as she leapt into a dark room, only ignited by the light from outside.

Collapsing in a heap on the hardwood floor, she wearily recognized where she was, or at least the type of place she’d ended up. On one wall, a slenderly long window stretched high above her reach, the opposite completely covered by a mirror. It was a dance room.

Sitting on her knees in front of the mirrored wall, Yuu stared at her pitiful self, tears breaking free of the dam they’d been collecting behind for days. Her hair was messy, falling around her shoulders and sticking to the sides of her face, dampened by the salty liquid. Her cheeks were rosy, nose carrying the same color.

And... her eyes.

One of them, the functional one, was puffy and tear clouded, and the other—the other was gorgeously ruined. A jagged, cracked scar trailed from her forehead to mid cheek, splitting her eyebrow and so thick that it spanned the length of her eye. The iris had lost its color and gone a milky white, the tears almost unrecognizable over the glazed sheen that glimmered over the orb.

Laying a hand on the mirror, Yuu stared into the mutilated gateway, seeing a story that had been left untold for far too long. She saw the death of her family, the heartache they bore through, her failure to preserve the things she loved most.

“Sorry—I’m sorry! I’m sorry I couldn’t save you, I’m sorry I look like this... I can’t breathe without hurting someone!” She curled her hand over the mirror, slamming her fist over it as she rested her head on the cool surface, her tears rolling down and leaving streak marks on the pristine aluminum paint.

Much to her surprise, the lights flicked on, though she did a fine job camouflaging it beneath a mask of melancholy. “So my potatoes were telling the truth. There really is a lost little sprite in my ballroom.” A new voice clucked.

Yuu ignored him, turning around and pulling her knees to her chest, burying herself in her arms. She didn’t want to be ridiculed anymore—didn’t want anyone else to resent her simply because they lacked the patience to break down her defenses.

The click of his shoes against the too cold floor reverberated off the walls, piercing her ears as they came closer, eventually stopping right in front of her.

“Look at me.” He commanded, the girl refusing with a shake, “Why not?”

“Because...I’m ugly, and everyone here is jaw droppingly gorgeous. I don’t belong here, I don’t belong anywhere...” she whispered, almost inaudibly.

“Nonsense. Look at me.” He commanded, this time not giving her an option. Tenderly prying her arms open, the mystery boy lifted her face up with the back of his hand.

Reluctantly, Yuu made eye contact with the person who struck fear into her heart like no other, either for his esteemed position in the school, or his famous physical beauty and harsh words. She stared into the amethyst eyes of Vil Schoenheit, who reflected her terrified and crippled visage in the hues of his irises.

Pushing his arms away, Yuu began weeping again, wiping the forsaken water roughly with her hands. “I’m sorry... I’m sorry for intruding. I-I’ll go.” She sniffled, in the midst of standing when Vil placed his hands over hers, plush and soft.

“Stay. Whatever would you have to be sorry for, dear?” He asked, urging her to sit.

“B-Because—Because I...I...!” Yuu’s voice became strained as she struggled to release the words that so desperately clawed at the knot in her throat. And then—

Vil opened his arms. Inviting, warm, unjudgemental.

“V-Vil...!” She dove into them, wrapping her arms around his middle as she did her best to stiffle her cries. Vil stroked her hair, his eyebrows raising in awe at how silky it was. “I-It’s my f-fault... all of it is my fault! I could’ve s-saved them, b-but I was just so scared!” She lamented, spilling the secrets that should’ve long ago been honored.

For once, Vil didn’t spit out any harsh criticisms, he just sat there silently, awaiting the end of Yuu’s bottled up pain brought to life. When it came, the girl released the boy who embodied beauty, trying to hide her swollen and scarred face. “I’m so sorry for using your time, Vil-san...” Yuu apologized, voice cracking.

“The least you could do is look at me when you speak, darling. Please, look here.” Yuu obeyed, eyes widening in confusion as her chin was rather roughly pinched between his thumb and forefinger.

Vil uncapped the top to his specially created lip gloss, “Hold still.” He said, applying the makeup over her thin lips, “There. See? You’re beautiful, we just... need a little concealer, and some contacts, and you’ll be good as new—partially.” Vil gave her a genuine smile, fooling Yuu into believing that maybe, just maybe he wasn’t going to judge her like everyone else.

“Yuu?!! Yuu?”

The two whipped to the doorway, and were greeted by a familiar lilac-haired first year, who skidded to a halt before Yuu and dropped to his knees, holding onto her shoulders. “I looked everywhere for ya, but this place is just so goddamn huge, it was like weavin’ through a maze! Rook had me runnin’ ‘round the halls like a chicken with its head cut off! Ain’t nothin’ hurt, o-or bleedin’, right?” Epel fast-talked, country accent in full affect as he tripped over his words.

“I’m fine, Epel. All good, see?” Yuu held out her arms, displaying her unharmed frame.

“A-ah, now that’s a breath’a fresh air! I see you been talkin’ with—dorm head Vil!” Epel gasped, face blanching as he sweat dropped.

“Epel. Felmier. What a pleasant surprise.” Vil growled through his teeth, bearing a deceiving smile. “Recovered from your headache, mister?”

“W-well, ya see here, I just—“

“Silence, I’ll not be listening to your excuses. And for the love of the Queen, get rid of that horrid native tongue of yours!” Vil demanded, berating Epel.

“...Yes, Vil. My humblest apologies.”

“Much better. Now! Would you like to explain our little visitor, and why she is here unannounced?”

After a long and tedious process of introducing and expounding her life, Yuu and Epel sat in edgy silence as Vil digested the information, going through a myriad of emotions as the air buzzed with electricity.

Yuu had her fingers crossed that she wouldn’t be sent away, as she’d been so used to.

“It’s decided then. Yuu, dear, follow me, and be hasty.” Vil nodded to himself, standing to his proud height enchanced by his heels as he flipped his hair, clicking off.

“I wish you the best of luck, my friend. You’ll most certainly need it.” Epel sniggered behind his hand, Yuu sending him a withering glare from over her shoulder.

“Oh just you watch. I’m about to sparkle like a million fireflies.”

<————>

Sparkle was a disgusting understatement for the transformation Vil put the poor girl through.

Though it was getting late outside, he still gave her a luxury treatment, which ultimately meant minutes upon minutes of face moisturizers, skin creams, scar healing oinments, and anything in between. Her face was stiff from all the rubbing, almost simulating numbness.

Once that had been finished, Vil wasted absolutely no time before pouncing onto makeup, his specialty. Concealers, eye accentuates, lip plumpers, blush, it made Yuu dizzy with the sheer amount of items the world of cosmetics had to offer.

It felt strange to be touched in such gentle ways, to receive the soft stroke of a brush to her eyelids instead of a slap, or to feel the way the concealer was mixed into the darkly scarred skin of her left side instead of the shattered glass tearing through flesh.

By the end of it all, Yuu didn’t sparkle, she emanated the radiance of a thousand suns, and even though she could only see half of her complexion, she knew beyond a doubt that she was more gorgeous than ever.

“There we are, darling.” Vil clapped, spinning her chair so that she could look at herself in the vanity.

Yuu’s jaw dropped to the ground, her breath hitching as she resisted the urge to cry.

Her scar was no longer visible on her face, the ugly line replaced instead by smooth, seemingly unmarked tan. The bags under her eyes were gone, making her seem at least a year younger, and a pretty blush was blended into her rather squishy cheeks, dusting over her nose. A flawless cut crease was executed over her orbs, the shimmery silver gradient backing to her elongated lashes making her eye pop.

But truly, the most spectacular of all what was lay within. Her irises were both... colored. What was once damaged and ruined was semi-fixed, a contact that matched the color of her functional eye creating the appearance that both were natural.

“V-Vil! Y-You... this...!” Yuu folded her hands in her lap, rendered wordless.

“A simple thank you will suffice, dear.” Vil chuckled, but nearly fell over when he was suffocated in a bear hug.

“Thank you! Thank you, thank you so much, Vil!” She bubbled, letting go after said blonde pushed her away.

“You’re welcome—just be careful! You’ll mess up one of our faces!” Vil snapped, rearranging his hair.

Yuu giggled, still staring at herself in the mirror, when a knock broke the calm partial quiet. “Come in!” Vil articulated, welcoming in two people, Rook Hunt and Epel.

“Yuu?!” Epel stood slack jawed, eyes nearly bursting out of his skull with how wide they were. “You’re so different, it’s amazing. You look amazing!”

“Indeed, madmoiselle! Delicate like the petals of a rose, and crystal clear as the water that rains from the sky! You are truly the sight to behold.” Rook added, earning an elbow to his side.

“Thank you, so much. I just—never thought I would look so whole again, especially after what happened to...” she trailed off, twiddling her thumbs.

“Nonsense, don’t let anyone lie to you. Never take criticism from someone you didn’t ask it from, alright?” Vil instructed, taking her by the hand.

“...Of course, Vil-san.” Yuu answered, for the first time in a long, long while settling into a comfortable laugh.

She’d been broken, far too many times to count. Torn down, crushed beneath the foot of life itself.

But, perhaps with the help of the people she used to shake in her shoes merely thinking about, perhaps she could turn that rubble into a cairn of her success. She’d have to fall to reach her peak, sometimes more than once, and sometimes she’d have to hit the bottom.

Right now, she was inching towards grabbing that first stone, that first layer to her cairn.

Soon, she just might reclaim that sweet melody lost to the tomes of time.

This took a little longer than I expected... I had to rewrite it because my first draft would... probably have gotten me flagged.

I want to say that you. Are. Beautiful. It doesn’t matter if you’re giant or mini, scarred or clean, because you. Are. Beautiful.

On that note, thanks for reading!! I hope you enjoyed!

Stay lovely!

[sinolibraryarchives]

【Novel】 The Fables of Black ー Chapter 1, Alice (Interquel)

Translator’s note: Italics here denotes the dolls’ lines.

＊ The monsters I first fought had two horns, and brandished a gigantic club. There was a book in uncle’s study that had a picture of such a beast. If I recall, it was called... An Orc. In that very book, Orcs were exterminated by a strong swordsman. Because Orcs were evil beasts that put people in peril. I forget, in what fashion did the swordsman kill the Orc? I soar up to dodge the club swinging at me, before another hit comes, and pierce the Orc's flank with my blade... Yes, Orcs aren't one to be nimble. After all, they brandish one heavy club, they can't be quick on their feet. Drawing blood, the monster cries. The sensation of fresh blood splattered on me is unbearably disgusting. The unpleasant stench of blood. It's not only blood, it's the stench of something detestable mixed in. Disgusting. I feel like throwing up. Desperate to keep myself from throwing up, I swing my blade around with reckless abandon. If I didn't distract myself like that, I felt that I wouldn't be able to hold it in. Because of my actions, the monster's remains were all minced up. Splashes of blood, meat, innards and unidentifiable lumps laid all around me. The swordsman from that book, would never have such an unsightly technique. After putting in a few more slashes, I finished things off with one deadly blow. There's still four left but my blade had already been weathered and dulled. I won't be able to fight with this... Or so I thought. The sword lit up. The bloodied and weathered sword turned into that of a pure white and sharp-edged blade. Now, with this, I can fight. Next off, I should wield my weapon properly. I have gotten used to the stench a bit, I'm able to stomach the unpleasant smell now. My target, will the vital parts. If not for that, then it'll be someplace that won't spill too much blood. And also, to avoid the bones since it'll dull the blade. That being said, it's easier said than done. If all four of them come at me at once, it'll be difficult to aim for the vital organs. In order to gain the upper hand, I'll have to make them falter even for a little, even then that seems a bit difficult to execute. Now that I've taken down the second and the third one, my sword reverberates and dulls. But it's all right. The weathered sword will fade away like smoke and be reborn once more in my hands. It's a touch heavy but, it assures me of its sturdiness. I put in my all into the blade, beheading the monster. The blade didn't yield but the same could not be said for my arm. Was it my shoulder? Or perhaps my tendon? Pain and shock charges through me at once. One more left. I support my immobile right hand with my left, point the tip of my blade straight at the monster. I recall a soldier brandishing a spear. A soldier who hails from the Playing Card army of the Red Queen. If I mimic their stance, I should be able to fight even with one arm. Right, just like this, by piercing my blade straight through. It was the right move. After a few charges, the monster fell. It's big unsightly stomach had been dotted with holes. "With this.... It's over" I inhaled deeply to fill my tired lungs. I prop myself up, using my sword as a staff to support myself. The ground of the Library had been dyed with blood, I did not want to lay my knee on it. "It's not over yet, you know?" "Did you really think that was truly it?" "Far, far from it"

Kanji seen is “Restriction”. "More and more sacrifices are needed" I know that, so, I answered them. There's no way that by killing only five monsters that 'he'll' come back alive. Just by remembering the weight of 'his' existence, I can easily imagine the number of lives I must sacrifice in exchange. "Well, this bunch was just small fry after all" "Absolutely. Perhaps somewhere along the lines of a mountains-worth?" "Why don't we teach you a really efficient way to kill?" "Perhaps somewhere along the lines of killing one and go off in a mad spree?" The dolls reverberated with their limbs rattling away. Were they clapping their hands? Or were they dancing? I couldn't understand what they were doing. "I don't get it. What do you mean? Explain" "To put it simply, all you gotta do is kill Characters from other stories" "There are.... Others?"

"But of course. Oh my, don't tell me that you thought that you're the only special one did you?" "Oh my" "People do that, don't they? How unsightly, how conceitful" 'He' was the one who called me "special". But, that didn't mean I was special. It's only that 'he' who created me is special. 'He' truly is, special. The stories 'he' weaved together is what truly is special. Only 'his' words are, special.

And yet, why? Why did 'he' die? 'He' was a special person and yet, why? Why did 'he' disappear from the world? No. That can't be allowed. 'He' really, really is a special person. For 'him' to die, is a mistake. Uncle, I want to see you. Hey, uncle. Please, one more time, say 'Alice'. Please, pat me on the head and call me a good girl again. Please, hug me again until I can't breathe. I will take your hand and...... "Once I kill other Characters, will my wish be granted?" "Yes" "Where are they now?" "I haven't the slightest...." "Go look for 'em yourself" "And also, it seems you have misunderstood so we'll tell you why" "Characters from other stories are not just a single person" I see. My targets are multiple. The most efficient way is not to kill the monsters, but to kill a few humans. "What's the matter?" "Learning that your targets are human, made you frightened?" Such putrid dolls. Ever spitting out words that pluck my chords..... "It's not that I'm frightened or anything"

I will not ever heed my inner-conscious that tells me what is just. I ought to cast away such a thing especially when a grand reward is promised. Problems and solutions, and then reward. A promise of the fictional world. "In order to meet up with a Character, you’ll need to go a little further" "For now, go on and hunt the small fry" The remains that were on the ground, disappears, in it's place a new monster appeared. And, in my hand, was a new weapon. ".... I got it." To put it simply, all I need to do is just to kill. All that appears before me. Such a simple thing. Ahh, uncle! Uncle! My beloved uncle! In order to see 'him' again, I'll do anything. I will do any cruel deed if it's for the sake of bringing 'him' back to life. Even if I have to get my hands dirty, even if I have to fall down in hell. If it's for the sake of my beloved, I'll do anything........

[herkawaiinovels]

[SS] Chapter 43

A pair of people, one of their hands together. The woman’s other hand was placed on his shoulder, while the man’s other hand was placed on her waist. When the tranquil melody streamed, like flowing water, the two moved naturally.

Prillance never usually liked dancing to waltz since it was the usual dance she practiced with her teacher.

And yet she was incredibly nervous at the moment. All her nerves from her fingertips to her knuckles were tense.

“The most important thing about dancing is to calm your nerves.”

Through the hand he was holding, as well as the hand placed on his shoulder, Ver noticed the tension in Prillance’s hands.

Although she gave a small nod, her body did not loosen. Instead, her steps quickly became jumbled.

When he saw that Prillance’s body was tilting to the side and was about to fall, he quickly caught her waist.

“Please watch your step.”

She nodded. And when she saw their bodies close to each other, she became nervous and promptly left his side.

As Prillance took a step back, he felt a sense of regret and emptiness. He clenched his fist.

“Shall we try something else first?”

The waltz, which brought their bodies too close together, was still burdensome for her. He knew that Prillance was overly conscious of this fact and needed something that would calm her a little bit more.

“Then, why don’t we try a livelier dance?”

The music changed into an upbeat tune.

Then Ver jumped in place and stomped his feet. A lively movement came from both his left and right foot.

She clasped his hand and followed his movement. When she had been in elementary school, she had a lot of fun learning how to dance to rhythmic music. Gradually, her tension grew lighter, perhaps because of the exciting beat.

At intervals, they would head to different directions and then face each other. In their own positions, they would dance with light footwork. She became exhilarated by the lively sound.

And with short, bouncy steps, they pass each other and switch positions, moving away, and then moving towards each other.

The dance ended with them facing each other, keeping a cheerful step till the end.

When the dance was over, the two looked at each other breathing hard and ended up breaking out into laughter.

“It is indeed a very exciting dance.”

Prillance admitted to Ver while wiping her tears after the long burst of laughter.

“Whenever hosts want to change the mood and make it more exciting, Rigaudon is a dance that is usually brought out.”

Only then did she realize the reason Ver proposed for a piece of more cheerful music.

“Because dancing is not just for show, it’s for enjoyment. I wanted the lady to let go of some of your tensions.”

“Ah.”

Perhaps, in order to show a fine appearance in front of him, she unknowingly put pressure on herself.

And perhaps, after a few lessons, he had noticed it.

“The Viscount is quite considerate, as always.”

As expected, he was this type of person. She looked at him and smiled. However, he could only look at her without returning that smile.

It wasn’t because he was considerate of her. If that were the case, then he wouldn’t have bothered teaching her how to dance in the first place. His actions were the result of his selfishness – his longing to be closer to her.

In the end, he avoided her gaze.

        ***

        “Why is there no word yet?”

Ben, who was currently having his meal, spoke nervously. Ralph was with him.

“What else could we do when she hasn’t come out of their house since that day?”

Unlike Ben, who seemed angry, Ralph wore a placid face.

“Then find something! Whether it’s bribing a person or finding any weakness!”

Ralph, who had been cutting his meat, put down his fork and knife.

“Ever since that day, they have been tightly supervising the servants. The lady didn’t even leave her room for days. Do you know how heavily patrolled that room is?”

He wasn’t sitting still because he liked it. No matter how hard he looked, he presently couldn’t find any opportunities.

“Moreover, rumors have been circulating in the mansion that the Marquis, known for being level headed, lacerated the horse attendant. Who could be bribed in that situation?”

Those were the information that he barely found out. Such a big incident kept the servants reigned in, so no rumours could be heard outside.

“No matter how you look at it, the current situation is difficult.”

Shrugging, Ralph moved his hand again. For a tendon, the meat wasn’t slicing too well, but he sliced parts of it little by little with his knife. There was even a smile on his face.

“By the way, Ver Grant became a knight.”

“What of it?”

He was a person who they no longer had anything to do with. As if he had already known, Ben continued carried on with his meal with an indifferent face. In the same way, Ralph continued concentrating on cutting the tendon without looking up.

“He entered as a knight of the house of Marquis Weiand.”

Ben looked curiously. Then put his tableware down with a clang.

“Get me some good news soon.”

Speaking in a low voice, he quickly left the dining room.

Ralph, who focused on cutting the meat whether Ben went out or not, finally sliced the last piece of tendon.

“That knight for the house of Marquis Weiand, Ver Grant…”

Ralph, who further broke the severed tendon into several pieces before smiling strangely, seemed to have already fallen into his own world.

So he didn't even realize that Cecia had entered the dining room.

“What…what did you just say?”

Cecia had come in soon after Ben had left.

She had wanted to come in a bit later and was waiting for the conversation between Ben and Ralph to end as it seemed they were discussing something important. When she suddenly heard Ralph muttering to himself.

“Oh my.”

Ralph exclaimed with a gleeful look.

As expected, witnessing this blind love was quite amusing.

With those thoughts in mind, he chewed on the stiff piece of tendon he had cut, even if he had to grind it with his teeth.

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[legolaslovely]

Surprises

A/N: Happy Fili Friday! I immensely enjoyed righting this. I hope you guys enjoy. For @patchworkideas Thank you for everything! <3 

Pairing: FiKi

Word Count: 6,100

Warnings/Tags: Modern AU, Cop!Fili, Artist!Kili, they are not related, angst, comfort, non explicit smut, fluff! 

Summary: For most of his life, Fíli didn’t like surprises and did his best to avoid them. Then he met someone who taught him to savor both giving and receiving anything unexpected.

Fíli never liked surprises. It’s not that he couldn’t handle any unexpected thing that was thrown at him with tact, it was just that he never enjoyed spectacles or too much effort or attention. His coworkers down at the station learned that about him the hard way when, after painstakingly planning and decorating a lovely surprise party for their newest and most dependable recruit, the birthday boy himself didn’t even show up for the celebration. It wasn’t until the next day they all learned Fíli had taken the day off from work to fish at the lake where the only birthday phone call he answered with more than a text was the one from his mother. 

For most of his life, Fíli didn’t like surprises and did his best to avoid them. Then he met someone who taught him to savor both giving and receiving anything unexpected.

***

September

Was he really this predictable? Fíli sat on his usual stool that was left open for him in the busy bar. Already there waiting for him was a cooled glass of the same lager he always ordered. He clearly had to change up his routine. After he drank his beer.

He took a sip, licked the foam from his mustache and as he went to set it on the ring already sunk into the coaster, his arm was jostled. The man who caused a splash quickly apologized.

“S’okay,” Fíli said.

It took him less than a minute to size the stranger up. Six feet, mid-twenties, broad shoulders, though not as broad as his own. The man waved to the bartender, lean yet strong muscle leaving a thick shadow over the bar. He was fit, probably a runner. Not a weightlifter like Fíli, who was in the gym every morning before his shift despite his hatred of getting out of bed any time before 10am. 

"Can I just get a...” the man trailed off as the bartender walked by, not even stopping to glance at the stranger in his bar. The man gave his head an entertained shake, freeing a stray curl that bounced over the center of his forehead, just above wide winged brows that were as dark as his eyes. Eyes that Fíli had barely gotten a glimpse of until they landed on him. They were glittering and not just with the old lights above the bar.

“Busy in here,” he said, running a hand through his hair that did nothing to restrain the leaping lock.

“Bartender takes care of his regulars first,” Fíli said with a shrug.

“Ah. Now that you say it, I think I read that in the handbook somewhere.”

He’s funny. Fíli shifted in his seat, turning to the side. Someone in this bar should welcome the stranger, why not him? Wasn’t it his duty? “Let me buy you a drink? I might have better luck with the bartender.”

Those dark brows shot up, uncovering a brighter, fresh looking face that had Fíli rethinking his age estimate. “Yeah. Sure,” the man said. He pointed over his shoulder. “I’m driving tonight so I’m just drinking soda. Uh, a Coke?”

“You’re a good friend,” Fíli said, hint of a smile peeking through his thick beard that he hoped hadn’t been soaked in beer foam. 

He pulled his eyes from the man and yelled for the bartender. “Dwalin! Can I get a Coke?”

“With what in it?” Dwalin yelled.

The stranger laughed, a higher pitch than Fíli thought would come out of him, but it was heart gripping all the same. “Uh, Ice?”

When the glass landed on the bar, Dwalin asked Fíli if he wanted another beer but Fíli shook his head.

“Why not? You’re off duty aren’t ya?”

“Of course I am,” Fíli said.

“Then I’ll getcha another.”

“No, no. Here,” he said, digging cash out of his wallet. 

Dwalin scooted away and snapped the towel from over his shoulder at Fíli’s hand. “Nah! Nah, nah. Save it, kid. On the house.”

Fíli slid the soda to the man by his side and waited until Dwalin was busy with another customer before shoving a twenty into the tip jar. 

“Thanks for the drink,” the man said .

“Fíli.”

“Yeah?” He scoffed. “Small world. My friends call me Kíli.”

The crowd seemed to settle and Dwalin’s Saturday night playlist easily descended to true background music as they talked, trading stories and small pieces of personal information. There was no prodding involved, it was just comfortable. Fíli couldn’t remember the last time he’d enjoyed a person’s presence more.

Kíli asked “off duty from what?” which launched the conversation of their individual careers. Fíli was waiting for the side eyed look he usually received when he let it out that he was a cop, but Kíli only smiled. He thanked him for his service. Fíli almost fell off his stool.

Kíli was an artist. When he mentioned he’d taught six classes at the college that day, Fíli stood, insisting Kíli take his chair. Only then had he noticed how crowded the bar had grown.

“No, please,” Kíli said. “I don’t want to take your seat.”

“You’re not taking anything. Sit.” But Fíli backtracked, leaving an escape path wide open. “If you want. Don’t let me keep you from your friends.” 

But Kíli sat. “I’m fine here.”

Even sitting, he was big. Fíli was not the kind to shrink from anyone or anything, but next to Kíli, his confidence and airs (an occupational hazard and necessity) deflated. Every coherent thought melted and simmered to god, he’s pretty. No one had ever affected Fíli this way and each time he straightened his shoulders or shifted on his feet and tried to expand, Kíli would smile and Fíli decided that maybe it was all right to be affected.

Kíli was chatty in an endearing and engaging manner. He had walked into the bar a stranger and now Fíli knew him better than some of the cops he’d met ten years ago. Kíli had recently moved from across the country. He had graduated from the college and fallen in love with the town, so when his parents passed away a few months ago, as a single child, he sold the house and moved back to his second home as he always wanted to. In an old but cozy house this time, instead of a dingy dorm. He started teaching painting lessons and in no time was hired as a professor in the arts department of the college. Dreams fulfilled.

He had an artist's hands. Thin but strong, calloused around the fingertips from brushes and tools and pencils. The veins and tendons popped as his hands waved, never sitting still as he spoke. He was mesmerizing, a moving painting that changed colors and concentrations as the night passed, customers left, and last call was announced. 

Someone behind them hollered Kíli’s name, but it was followed by shushing and giggling. Fíli turned around to see a tall red haired woman whispering loudly for all to hear. 

“He’s at the bar! Leave him alone, he’s with that hot guy.”

One of Kíli’s kinetic hands finally stilled over his eyes, rubbing his furrowed, unbelieving brow. Fíli knew his own cheeks were turning red, but he couldn’t give it another thought as Kíli looked up and grinned at him.

It was a thing of beauty really, reaching his eyes, smooshing them into glowing little slits with round cheeks and a heart shaped chin that curved his lips into the sweetest, smallest triangle.

“My friends...”

“Are having fun,” Fíli said. He sighed. The night had gone quicker than he’d wanted it to. “Will I see you here again?”

Kíli hopped off the stool. “Take my number and you can be sure of it.”

He watched Kíli type into his phone. Fíli had rules. He never kissed on a first date, he never kissed at the bar his boss frequented, he barely kissed in public at all, but this man made him want to change every rule he knew. Even the laws of gravity seemed to be changing because when Kíli gave his phone back and his hand lingered there, Fíli was sure he was floating. He wanted to kiss this man so badly his chest swelled with it, his mind swam in it, his fingers tingled with it, and then the decision was taken out of his hands. 

Kíli kissed his cheek. Just beside his lips. It was quick and unexpected but Fíli’s skin burned with Kíli’s touch long after he’d winked, said goodbye, and led his friends out of the bar. 

***

October

To say that Kíli was excited was an understatement. He was buzzing, trembling, vibrating in anticipation of Fíli’s arrival. He had only been in town for a little over a month when he met Fíli in Dwalin’s bar and it had taken longer than expected for Kíli to unpack from the big move and make his apartment suitable for visitors. Fíli often said, “I don’t care if it’s messy, I want to see your place,” with a very persuading kiss, but Kíli wanted everything to be perfect the first time Fíli came over for dinner.

Which is why Kíli had spent a good chunk of his week and paycheck preparing for this meal. Coaxing Fíli’s favorite recipes out of him- something that should have been sweet and easy and fun, turned into what Kíli imagined yanking hundred year old tree roots from winter turf would be like. And though he welcomed the chance to search through cookbooks and shop for the ripest, most delicious ingredients at the various markets, it all took time. But Kíli didn’t mind. This was important to him and he truly enjoyed pampering Fíli. The man wasn’t spoiled very often.

Kíli was sitting on the floor, staring into the clear oven window when his phone rang. 

“Fíli, it’s five of seven and I know you don’t talk on the phone while you’re driving which means you’re either on my doorstep or you haven’t left yet and it better be the former because if you’re late I will drink this entire bottle of wine without you.”

“I’m on my way, Kíli. I’m sorry, work... work held me up a bit. I’m getting in the car now. Do you need anything else from the store? Want me to stop for anything?”

“If you stop somewhere I’m going to drink both of these bottles by myself.”

“That would be entertaining.”

“Fíli.”

“I’m on my way. Ten minutes.”

Kíli slid his phone onto the counter and stirred the bubbling sauce, tasting it one more time to make sure it was perfect. He gathered a pinch of salt, held it over the pot, then flicked it all into the sink, unused.

“It’s fine,” he said to himself. “It’s fine.”

He heard the rumble of Fíli’s car a few minutes later and pulled the top few buttons of his favorite shirt open. Fíli would never say it out loud, but Kíli knew the black curls that traveled up his neck from his chest drove the man wild. Kíli decided Fíli deserved a little shameless torture and distraction for making him wait an extra eight minutes.

The doorbell rang as he was twisting a corkscrew into the first bottle of Merlot. “It’s open!” he yelled.

It didn’t take long for arms to wrap around his waist and a grumbling to sound in his ear. “Stop leaving your door unlocked,” Fíli growled.

“Yes sir,” Kíli said in time with the pop of the cork.

“Something smells good.”

“Wait until you taste it,” Kíli said. “I ate so much of this as I cooked it- for tasting reasons- and honestly, I don’t even think there’s enough here for you.” He turned around in Fíli’s arms and almost dropped the full glass in his hands. “Fíli.”

Fíli took the wine out of Kíli’s hand and put it on the counter out of reach. He let Kíli stare.

The bruise around his eye reached up over his brow and down to his cheekbone. It seemed to grow darker by the moment, as if every wince of pain and pity turned his blood black. One soft, blue, undeserving iris was surrounded by red clouds.

“What happened?”

“I’m all right. I got called in for a domestic and I took a hit while cuffing the guy.”

Kíli didn’t speak, only stared while his grip on Fíli tightened.

“I’m sorry I’m late, I had to do some paperwork.”

“Don’t apologize.”

Only then did Kíli realize Fíli was still in his uniform. He’d seen the dark blue before, cinching and gaping in all the right places, suiting Fíli beyond measure, but now Kíli despised every inch of it. 

“I’ll grab something for you to wear-”

“I brought clothes,” Fíli said. “I’ll go change.”

Kíli released him hesitantly. “First door on the right.” He clicked off the burners and the oven and shoved the cork back into the wine bottle. Instead, he carried two glasses of bourbon to the couch he’d brought from his parents’ house. Ice cubes clicked together as he laid the packed towel on the small table and sat, sinking into the well used cushion and resting his arm over the back of the couch. 

He chuckled when Fíli came down the hall in his dress shirt and pants. “I thought you were going to change into something more comfortable.”

“What, am I getting too handsome for you?” Fíli asked, smirk only reaching one side of his face.

“It’s close.”

Fíli made a show of unbuttoning the top of his shirt. 

“Getting closer,” Kíli said.

When Fíli sat, he scooted down into the couch until the old thing almost ate him whole. With his eyes closed, he couldn’t see Kíli watching him, but he could feel it. He sensed the routine emotions, the ones that come when you’re dating an officer. Constant concern that, like Kíli’s watercolors, mixed with splashes of ire and exasperation. Wonder was the crucial canvas that held it all together while remaining steady in the background. What went on in those squad cars? Would he always be safe? Always come home? Would Kíli want to stick around, stay in this budding relationship long enough to find out?

He jumped when he blindly felt Kíli’s fingers running through the ends of his hair. The towel had grown heavy and sopping from the melted ice and Kíli took it from him.

“Have I told you how great this apartment is?” Fíli asked, tilting his head to look at Kíli.

“No.” Kíli said, giving his best frown. “You came in, used my bathroom and ruined my best towel.”

Fíli laughed, soft, deep, and rumbling. Comforting. But it was brief. “Don’t forget I also ruined your dinner, our night, and everything we’ve been looking forward to.”

“Nonsense.”

“Kíli, I’m so sorry.”

Kíli scooted closer. “Don’t apologize.” He leaned down and kissed Fíli’s temple, caressing the sore spot with soft, warm lips that seemed to have their own healing powers. When he drew away, Fíli was watching him.

“You always surprise me,” he said, sitting up and wrapping his arms around Kíli who buried his face into the crook of Fíli’s neck. 

“I’m sick of being surprised,” he murmured against Fíli’s skin.

***

November

Kíli’s hand found Fíli’s as he drove home from the restaurant. The dinner had been nice- glowing candles, red wine, snobby yet over-polite waiters and dainty portions. It was clear they were both a bit out of their element in the dark, very quiet dining room. Even Kíli seemed a bit shy, but slowly, his small smiles lit their corner of the room- a beacon for Fíli to fuel and admire.

Though their meal together had been enjoyable, it was the farthest thing from Fíli’s mind as Kíli’s fingers intertwined in his. Practiced digits danced, looped, caressed, tickled, until his first finger broke loose and slid up the inside of Fíli’s thigh. Kíli’s focus remained on the road, but the very corner of his lips tweaked upwards. Soft and ever pink, surrounded by a scratch of permanent black stubble, pulled and bent, letting Fíli know their minds were on the same subject. 

They’d been dating a few weeks now. They’d talked and planned, then those plans were ruined when Fíli took a black eye at work. It was the new arrangement that led to this night. Their night. Which is why Fíli held Kíli’s hand- every finger- far away from any part of his leg. His breath had already grown quick and heavy and he refused to ruin their plans once again by losing control and fucking Kíli right there in the front seat of his own car. He took a deep breath that broke and shook halfway through and rolled a thumb over Kíli’s knuckles, forcing himself to think of something else as they managed to stop at every single red light in the entire damn town. Kíli only chuckled. 

Fíli was a patient gentleman as he followed Kíli to the door and they stepped inside. However, he would never know if Kíli had planned nightcaps or coffee because as soon as the front door was locked behind them, Fíli kissed him. His fingers dove through black hair, circled the nape of Kíli’s neck, down his chest, around his waist and into his back pockets. Kíli moaned in his mouth and that was it.

He picked Kíli up and swallowed the deep growl it caused. (He’d think more about that later and revel in the fact that Kíli liked to be manhandled by him.) Kíli wrapped his limbs close around Fíli, coiling like a serpent, as if he couldn’t get close enough. As if he were trying to climb under Fíli’s own skin to share the same blood rushing heartbeat. In turn, Fíli clawed at him and balled the evil, offending shirt- the layer between them- into his fists, sucking in a sharp breath as Kíli’s already hard erection ground into his.

After mumbled directions, elbow slams and palm slaps against the walls, Fíli found the bedroom. Next step: the lamp. Fíli wanted to see. Every line, every crevice, every hair, smile, lip bite- everything that was finally allowed to be his, he wanted it. He was greedy. 

He laid Kíli on the bed, hovered over him, tore off his shirt, kissed, nipped, and traveled down the warm, gorgeous body below him. He lost himself in the swirling southern wind of desire, couldn’t cherish each precious moment as he’d dreamed of doing. It was all too fast but he rode the storm, unable to stop until he could feel and hear and see everything.

It was only Kíli’s gasped “Wait!” that had him sitting back on his knees thinking Please, please don’t change your mind about us. Please don’t ask me to leave. Please-

But his thoughts stopped completely as Kíli sat in his lap and held his face. “I want this to last,” he said. He smiled and Fíli was sure it was brighter than any light he’d seen. Kíli went on. “I’m excited too- more excited than I’ve ever been. I want to touch you and pleasure you.” Hands fell down Fíli’s chest and up his thighs. “But I want to take my time about it.”

In all the nights spent imagining sharing Kíli’s bed, Fili hadn’t ever thought of going slow. He could hear Kíli whining and screaming his name, begging for more and harder. He saw strangled bed sheets tear and felt nails leaving divots in his back as reminders of uncontrolled passion. Slow never crossed his mind, but now that it did, he couldn’t imagine it any other way. 

Kíli only smiled and kissed him. Slowly. Deeply. Pouring every ounce of devotion and admiration into Fíli’s body and mind with tender touch, soft lips, and warm caresses of his tongue.

“We do have all night, don’t we?” Fíli asked.

Kíli hummed against his lips. 

So they took their time. Each charted every breath, discovered tender corners, mapped wide plains and lapped at warm waters. They took all night and long into the morning before finally falling asleep after a well deserved breakfast of Fíli’s apparently famous pancakes. 

As Kíli curled into his arms and fell asleep against him, Fíli wondered if he had ever felt as loved as he did by Kíli. Kíli had watched him, eyes forever open, no matter what Fíli did. Kíli treasured every inch of his body, took him to soaring heights that left him trembling in long lean arms and reaching for soft, short kisses that never lacked emotion or affection. Had Fíli ever snorted with laughter while inside someone? Definitely not. But he wanted to do it again with Kíli. Always with Kíli.

***

April

It didn’t take long for Fíli to learn how much Kíli loved the unexpected. Their second date was Fíli’s plan and as soon as he casually said the location of their night was a surprise, Kíli erupted like pecans in a food processor. His wide eyes shone in the headlights from across the street as they took note of every street sign. Despite his best intentions, he asked nosy questions like “How long will it take to get there?” and “Will I need my jacket? Are we even going inside?” and when Fíli played the game and said, “I’m not telling you,” Kíli only grinned as if that in itself was a hint. That amount of fidgeting and finger tapping and ankle crossing may have been annoying to anyone else, but Fíli found it extremely endearing. And on the drive home, Fíli was already thinking of other things that would exercise Kíli’s excitement and curiosity.

This surprise, however, was a big one. It was a big step, a big decision. But the best part about it, the part that made Fíli push ahead with this plan in the first place, was that Kíli was completely unsuspecting. Completely.

“Isn’t your spring break coming up next month?” Fíli asked late one morning after pouring his third cup of coffee. “Do you have any plans?”

Kíli hummed while he thought. “Nnnno. Not really. I was going to clean up some paintings and frame them for the collection at the college at the end of the semester.”

“Landscapes?”

“Some of them,” Kíli said, distracted, not seeing Fíli’s point. 

“How would you feel about adding some beach landscapes to your selection?”

A slow, but wide grin- wider than any horizon Kíli had ever painted- stretched over his face. “I could do that.”

“Good.” Fíli turned, clicking off the coffee pot and pulling the mug to his lips to hide his smile. He wasn’t at all shocked when he felt Kíli’s arms wrap around his waist, as comfortable and snug as an old sweatshirt.

“Wouldn’t you rather a cabin in the woods?” Kíli asked, running his cool nose up the crook of Fíli’s shoulder to his ear. It was well mapped territory. “I could also paint landscapes of the lake.”

“You love the beach.”

Kíli hummed and Fíli could feel his chest reverberating against his back. He leaned into it. 

“But you love the quiet,” Kíli said. “Cool nights under cozy blankets…. Crisp mornings watching the fog lift from the lake…” His hands were wandering.

“I also love the beach when you are wearing nothing but a very small swimsuit.”

“Then I’ll go buy an even smaller one,” Kíli said, pushing and pulling and grabbing all the right places because he loved his surprises that much.

The new swimsuit Kíli bought for their vacation was indeed smaller than any he had ever owned and Fíli couldn’t decide if he appreciated how the other beach goers admired what was his or if he hated the jealousy it brought out in him. Either way, Kíli basked in Fíli’s gaze always and he made sure any feelings of envy were washed away with the tide.

Kíli truly catered to Fíli’s needs while they were away, meaning the only time he wore a shirt was when some kind of dress code mandated it. They didn’t spend a lot of time in restaurants for that reason. Instead, they went to the store, sandals clapping against the tile floor and Kíli wrapped up in Fíli’s warmest but also saltiest sweatshirt, shopping for sandwich supplies and cheesy pretzels, iced teas and beer. 

After the first day, Fíli bought a beach umbrella the size of their car because he didn’t care if Kíli only tanned and never burned, he wanted to enjoy Kíli’s semi nakedness without worrying about his health. He’d also purchased an untold number of sunscreen bottles to empty and massage into Kíli’s skin multiple times a day. It was hard work rubbing the white out of a dark chest pelt, up over muscled shoulders, down a tapered  waist, around a furry belly, and down thick legs. It was a burden only Fíli could bear. Kíli felt well taken care of and made sure Fíli never noticed the cans of spray sunblock at the store.

Their third day on the coast, Kíli managed to drag Fíli from the bed and out to the beach for the sunrise. The early hour benefits outweighed Fíli’s grumbling: they escaped the crowds, the parking passes, and the heat, able to simply cherish each other’s company as they sat with their toes in the surf and their arms around one another. As the morning went on, sleepiness transferred from one man to the other and Fíli was able to get his revenge on his morning loving lover. He pulled Kíli through the sand, diving into the frigid high tide, giggling, splashing, and shoving until Kíli’s cold fingers stroked Fíli’s beard and pulled them face to face. That was the moment Fíli decided he loved Kíli’s salty kisses the best.

The sun flew across the sky that day and clocked out early like it too was on vacation. Tourists left and there were still a few hours before the night beachcombers would arrive. Similar to that morning, Fíli and Kíli had the beach to themselves and they used the public privacy to curl into each other under their now unneeded umbrella. 

Fíli rolled over top of his love. White specks of sand made Kíli’s curls even thicker and the salt water left the tresses heavy between Fíli’s fingers. A soft, content hum escaped the one beneath him and his heart swelled. He tried to tell Kíli how much he loved him. I want to share every moment of life with only you. You’ve enriched my life from the moment we met in that bar and I’ve been drunk on you ever since. You turned a lonely and alone man into someone loved and cherished and worth your time. You are so important, you are everything.

“I love you so much,” was all that came out.

Kíli’s thumb rolled over his cheek and tried to dislodge the clear line of tears that seemed stuck in blue eyes that matched the day lit sky. Fíli always welled up from toe to crown when he tried to tell Kíli how much he loved him.

“I know,” Kíli said. “I love you too, Fíli.”

***

August

Fíli drove too fast to Kíli’s apartment. He’d texted, he’d called, and yet he’d heard nothing from Kíli all day. Usually Kíli would shoot back messages fairly quickly, writing something on the spot to make Fíli smile or laugh or even blush and shift in his chair enough for his partner to ask who he was talking to. Kíli would always answer when Fíli called, picking up on the second or third ring no matter what he was doing in case Fíli needed him. Today, every line of communication went unanswered. 

When Fíli pulled in the driveway he could see the low light from the lamp in the front room through the curtains that Fíli had helped Kíli pick out last year. Other than that square of yellow, the rest of the house was dark. He took the chance that Kíli was still awake and though he had a key to the house, he knocked on the door.

He listened. No tv, no music, but soon footsteps. Kíli answered the door, half full glass in hand and waving around. 

“Oh. Hey.” He walked back into the house, leaving Fíli in the doorway.

“Hey. You didn’t answer your phone all day so I wanted to make sure you were all right.” He locked the door behind him, but Kíli was still standing in the middle of the room with his back to Fíli as if he wasn’t there.

Fíli was fit to burst. The words were on the tip of his tongue: Why haven’t you answered my calls? You couldn’t have even said ‘talk to you later, I’m busy?’ Do you know how worried I was? I thought something was wrong!

But as Fíli watched Kíli, unmoving, fingers hooked around the top of the glass, shoulders hunched like he’d never seen them, it was clear that something was wrong. 

Fíli’s hand found the small of Kíli’s back, the little divot made just for that purpose, and Kíli turned and blinked sluggish and heavy lidded eyes. “Sorry,” he said. “You want something to drink? S’on the counter,” he said, waving his glass and spilling a splash on the floor. “Shit.”

“I got it,” Fíli said. “You wanna sit?”

He watched Kíli fall into the oversized easy chair in the corner of the room. It rocked and creaked, not used to being sat in. Whenever Fíli was over, the two would pile on the couch so they could tangle their limbs and fill each other’s space and share everything. Now Kíli sat alone in the chair and nothing could be shared. 

Fíli wiped up the liquid that almost burned the inside of his nose and threw the towel on the small table. By then, Kíli had leaned forward onto his thighs, holding his head in his hands. 

“This is a new spot for you,” Fíli said, settling on his knees below Kíli on the floor.

A grin spread across Kíli’s face that pushed his eyes closed. “Not for you though.” He pulled Fíli’s hands to his thighs and leaned down to kiss him. The half empty bottle on the counter was enough to tell Fíli his boyfriend was sloshed, but it was the taste of him that let Fíli know it hadn’t been the first bottle opened. He could get tipsy himself from just kissing Kíli. 

A word made its way between them and disrupted their embrace.

“Mee-mm- need a new couch.”

Fíli glanced at the perfectly good piece of furniture he’d spent plenty of time in. “You think so?”

“It’s too old. Doesn’t match any of the other furniture.”

“I can take you shopping this weekend.”

At the mention of actually following through with his plan, Kíli turned to the offending couch with a threatening glare. The plush cushions sat pitifully like a dog saved from the shelter who had peed on the floor and chewed the bed while left alone.

“I’m just sorry I spent all that money driving it across the country.”

“It’s still in good condition,” Fíli said. “You could sell it and make the money back. College students are always looking for good sofas.”

Fíli would talk about this fucking couch until Kíli finally came out with what was really bothering him. He knew every one of Kíli’s emotions even better than his own, and right now, he knew just because Kíli had a cover over his passion, didn’t mean the fire wasn’t still raging underneath. Fíli knew he only had to wait. He watched the deep brown eyes he’d fallen in love with grow laser focused, staring without seeing.

A thick thumb dragging over a knee was what blew the cover off the inferno and added gas.

“I fucked up, Fíli. I fucked it all up. I shouldn’t have sold the house. What kind of person sells their parents’ house a month after they die? But I couldn’t look at it anymore and now I can’t go see it even if I wanted to because someone else lives there now! And all I brought with me were some photo albums and this fucking couch! I want it gone! I wanna fucking burn it but I look at it and half of me sees my family, watching movies and eating dinner and talking about me coming here to go to school and the other half of me sees you and all the time we’ve spent here.”

All of Kíli’s strength and energy flew out on his words and he slumped to the floor, falling into Fíli’s arms that were ready to catch him. Fíli pulled him into his lap. As his lover’s chest heaved and hiccuped and his hot tears slid down into the hollows of Fíli’s neck, Fíli let his own tears fall. His job was to protect people, most importantly, to protect Kíli. He thought he’d been doing well, but he couldn’t exactly keep grief in custody.

“And I don’t want to be a teacher!” Kíli pulled his face from the crook of Fíli’s neck, revealing his pink cheeks and swollen eyes. He rubbed his nose on his sleeve. “I don’t want to be a fucking professor, I want to paint. I don’t want to teach five classes a day and have office hours and be too exhausted to come home and make something for myself. I want to go to classes and be as inspired as my students are-” His breath caught in his chest as more tears flew down his face. Fíli caught them with his thumbs, swiping them away- blending and shading as Kíli taught him as if he could turn Kíli’s pain into something more beautiful and comforting. It didn’t work.

“You’ll call tomorrow,” Fíli said. “Reduce the number of classes you’re teaching, have fewer office hours. It’s still summer, you have time to make these changes before the new semester starts. Hey,” he whispered, making Kíli look at him. “We’re in this together. We’ll fix everything that needs to be fixed.”

Kíli relaxed in his arms. The drink had been washed from his eyes and they once again focused in on Fíli. “You are all I have. I want you to move in here. With me.”

Fíli thought of the key he just had the hardware store make. He thought of the dinner reservations for this weekend when he was going to ask Kíli to move in with him. 

“My dream was to move back here and paint. But even when I have the time for my art, there’s still something missing. It’s you. I want you here with me. All the time, I want you to move in.”

Fíli nodded, running his fingers through black curls. “We can talk about this tomorrow.”

They did talk about it and Fíli found a guy from work who needed a place to stay and was glad to take over the remainder of Fíli’s lease. That weekend, he moved his stuff in, crowding his favorite books and old CDs into Kíli’s endless bookshelves, piling plates he’s had since college into the cabinets, figuring out which side of the closet belonged to whom and watching Kíli struggle to donate some of the shirts Fíli had never once seen him wear. When the bed was covered in boxes and bags, they made love on the floor, too impatient to move piles of clothes, but never too impatient to tease one another and make each other scream. Kíli said that the neighbors would have to get used to the more frequent noise.

Sunday afternoon, Fíli took Kíli furniture shopping, but they came back to their home empty handed. They weren’t able to find a couch that was as comfortable and perfectly worn in as the one they already had. No new sofa in the warehouse smelled of Kíli and the beer he’d spilled on his seventeenth birthday and the blanket Fíli brought from his apartment and the clean sweat that had managed to sink down deep into the cushion from many rounds of vigorous, furniture creaking, lube leaking sex. That was their couch and would be for a very long time.

***

After a year spent together, Kíli still surprised Fíli every day. Sometimes it was as small as making the perfect cup of coffee in the morning. But the one thing that never bewildered Fíli was how his ardent love for the painting stranger from the bar seemed to grow with every moment they shared together.

[no-whump-on-main]

Run

this is a long one sorry y’all

ALSO IMPORTANT NOTE the drabbles I write are all out of order. some day I will string them together in a cohesive masterpost but until then, suffer.

TWs-Stabbing, manhandling

     Her head was fuzzy.

     Elora was pretty sure it’d been at least a few days. It was hard to keep track, though. It was always dark, and she’d only seen the man twice. She hadn’t even left the bathroom yet.

     Her hands were chained together and looped around the faucet with a padlock, leaving a length of chain so short she couldn't even stretch her legs out to the front of the tub, nor lie back. She was sore and the position was miserable.

     When the man came in, it was bright. Sunlight. There was sunlight. And a few fluorescent bulbs, there had to be, for it to be so bright. Her eyes hurt, but it was worth it. She got to see the sun.

     “Good morning, lark.”

      He smiled, just as cruel as the last time she’d seen him. Morning. It was morning. Elora looked at the man with an angry glare, though she was trying for more of a cold indifference. Her frustration with the circumstance showed through, though, giving her face and tone a twinge of irritation.

     “Morning, Bastard.”

      The man cocked his head to the side and let his grin grow before stepping forward and seizing Elora by the jaw. She immediately started to pull away, making the grip tighten until she could fight it no longer.

     “You are going to treat me with the respect I deserve.”

     Elora said nothing, only rolling her eyes. Like hell she would. The man didn’t acknowledge her, and continued on as he had been before. He pulled out a small key from his pocket, the keyring jangling a bit as he unlocked the padlock binding her to the faucet. He let the lock drop before looking at Elora.

     “You’re going to help me with something today, magician. Do not make me regret taking you out of here. I can make you wish you were never born.”

     Elora scoffed at the empty threat but stood, following the man out of the bathroom while scanning around for an escape route. She would’ve fought, or mouthed off-but the opportunity to find the exits was too valuable.

     The man led her to a barren living room, containing nothing but an old, stained couch, an armchair, and a box T.V sitting on a coffee table. “Sit right here. I need some things. Move and you’ll regret it.”

     The man gave Elora a sidelong glare, a look of warning, before stalking off into another room, presumably to find whatever it was he needed. 

     She was sitting in the armchair, planning out her next witty remark, and how she’d get underneath the man’s skin-that was until he left the room.

     A chance.

     Elora was ready to go. She’d quickly scoped out the apartment after being dragged out, scanning for her escape route and quickly finding it. The front door could be seen from the chair where she sat. She just needed to get up and make a beeline. The man must have been an idiot- she couldn’t see any locks on it. And it was an apartment, there had to be someone around to see her once she got out the door.

      Get out the door. Objective one.

     She stood, legs still stiff from being folded up in the tub so long. She could hear the man ruffling around through a room down the hallway, presumably distracted She needed to go quickly. Before she lost her chance.

     Her eyes darted around nervously for a few moments before she bolted to the door. Her footsteps were loud, but she didn’t care. She needed to go. Run to someone, get the police.

     She was in front of the door in seconds. She could vaguely hear the man’s footsteps coming from the hallway, but she wasn’t worried. They were too distant.

   Her fingers wrapped around the handle, and she twisted.

     And she twisted again.

     And again.

     It wouldn’t budge. There was nothing on the knob that was outwardly visible- but it wouldn’t move at all. The metal against her hands felt like solid steel.

     Well, fuck.

     It was time for plan B. She started to bang against the door uncontrollably, screaming at the top of her lungs for someone, anyone to hear her.

     The man stepped out of the hallway, into the foyer, now only a few feet away from Elora. He smiled. He wasn’t an idiot. It was a test to see what the lark would do. 

     And she hadn’t done very well.

     The pounding on the door didn’t let up, neither did Elora’s incessant cries. She didn’t notice the man coming behind her, too absorbed in her desperate plight to get out. When she did notice, it was too late. There was an arm hooked around her neck, and her legs were collapsing, and she couldn’t breathe, and her arms were pinned down-

     She fought. She fought hard. She wriggled, and she screamed, and she thrashed. The man, though he seemed slight, was a surprisingly good manhandler-something she didn’t want to have to find out this way. He didn’t let go until they were back in the living room, looming over the chair. Elora’s vision was spotting, and she could feel a headache forming from the lack of oxygen. The man threw her down, none too gentle. He knew that Elora would probably fall over if she tried to get up and run again, and the door was locked anyways, so he walked over to the kitchen, searching. He needed to teach her a lesson. He rummaged through the drawers for a few moments before returning to Elora with a set of serrated paring knives. 

     She was so close. She was so close, how did she-

     She barely registered the man leaving her, not gaining coherence again until  he was in front of her, again, grabbing her chin. The look in his eyes was manic, and Elora tried to shift her gaze away, scared. This only made him squeeze harder, his grip so tight it made her jaw sore. He thumbed her lip, somehow squeezing even harder than he had been earlier.

     “You’ve made a mistake, lark.”

     He dropped her chin, this time grabbing her wrist and laying his arm across it, applying pressure to pin her hand down. He took out one of the knives, gripping it tightly while looking cruelly at Elora.

     “Deep breath, sweetheart. And remember, this is your fault. I wouldn’t need to do this if you didn’t try to run from me.”

     With that, he raised the knife, forcefully bringing the tip down cleanly through the middle of her hand and into the armrest of the chair.

     Elora didn’t take a deep breath. She didn’t know what he meant, what he was doing, her whole world was still fuzzy, and spotty…

     Until the pain came. It grounded her and she jumped, screeching out of pure terror and pain as the blade slid through her right hand, severing tendons and god knows what else. Her cries put a smile on the man’s face and he grabbed the hilt, twisting it around a bit and watching Elora squirm as the serrated edge nicked more and more nerves. 

     “That hurt, love? Good.” Elora couldn’t speak, the pain radiating from her hand so bad she could do nothing but cry and pant.

     The man finally let his arm off of Elora’s wrist, stopping toying with the knife through her hand. It was bearable-when he wasn’t agitating the knife- but god, did it still hurt.

     He wasn’t done. Nowhere near done. The man didn’t need to pin her next wrist down-she was distracted-and he stabbed the next knife through her left hand before standing back and admiring his work. She screamed, breathy sighs catching in her throat.

     “You know, lark, I’ve been waiting for you to mess up like this. You just look so lovely like that.”

     Lovely?

     Elora looked up at the man, face still twisted with pain, and fear. She spat at his face, nose scrunching. 

     “How’s that for fucking lovely?” She mocked his tone. Lovely. Yeah, sure, asshat. Lovely.

     The man didn’t seem bothered, wiping off the spit that had landed on his cheek and smirking.

     “Not what I had in mind, but sure. And to think, I was going to give you a break. Well, there goes that.” 

     Elora didn’t have time to ponder the statement, or call bullshit that there was ever a break at all before the man was crouching in front of her, a knife drawn in each hand. She tried kicking at him, but before she could react properly, the knives were through her calves.

     Her mask dropped. She screamed, wanting to writhe in pain, but she held herself still to avoid the additional pain movement brought. Tears flooded her eyes. The man hadn’t started torturing her with anything tame. No, this was the first offense-and she’d gotten stabbed. Four times.

     She gasped desperately, the pain so severe she felt like her airways blocked. Blood was trickling slowly out of the wounds, but it was largely stopped by the knives. Only a few drops of blood seeped around them. The knives. She needed them out. It would hurt, but she needed them out. Every tiny movement dragged them along nerves, flaring up pain that was somehow more intense than it had ever been before. 

     She looked up at the man, tears staining her cheeks while blood stained the chair and her chest heaved.

     “T-take them out!”

     The man smiled, then started to laugh.

     “Oh, why would I do that? We’ve only just started, after all.”