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bratkook · 4 years ago

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cozy thief. (m) jjk

pairing. jeon jungkook x reader genre. smut, fluff, mutual pining word count. 5.1k warnings. roommate!au, cuteness!! lots of kissing & heavy petting, hand in pants action and messy/needy humping from jungkook lol summary. a rainstorm knocking out your power is the small push needed for confessions to come tumbling out author’s note. requested for #30 from this prompt list! thank you for sending this in 🖤 (requests now closed)

The bubbling water is the only thing you focus on as you rest against the countertop, hands tightly holding onto your fluffy blanket of choice to trap all of the warmth in before it could escape. The rhythmic pattering of rain against the windows has become background noise now, already accustomed to the sound that woke you up hours ago.

It’s therapeutic really, your fuzzy socks sliding along the floor as you pull out your favorite mug, grabbing the hot chocolate mix and mini marshmallows from their rightful spot in the pantry. You don’t even think about the ridiculous electric bill you’ll be getting from how high you currently have the heater cranked up, freezing to death was not worth saving a few bucks.

Jungkook would agree, loving the fact that he didn’t have to worry about walking around the apartment in a snow coat and scarf. Sure you were currently bundled up as if the place wasn’t maintained at a steady 75 degrees, but from the time spent living together he had grown to learn that the minute there was rain or snow you would pull out the coziest blankets regardless of temperature.

“Can you make me one too?” He speaks up as he leans against the mini island, smiling when your blanket clad body jumps at the unexpectant sound of his voice.

The spoon clanks against the mug as you stop stirring the hot chocolate, turning your head back to take a peek at your roommate. “Don’t scare me like that.”

Jungkook laughs now, pulling up the sleeves of his shirt as he rounds the island to grab himself a mug. “What, should I wear a bell around my neck to let you know when I’m nearby?”

“Yeah actually, you sneak up on me all the time. You’re gonna give me a heart attack one day.”

You eye his mug of choice, a Friends one that actually belonged to you, a little hard to believe considering it was the one he always used without fail. It was admittedly your fault for forcing him to binge watch the whole show on Netflix before it got taken off, but for someone who claimed he couldn’t stand it all he sure did cradle the themed mug with utmost care.

“You’re easy to scare, can’t blame me for seeing an opportunity and taking it.” Sliding the mug in your direction he rests on his elbows, observing you as you pour in the hot water, mixing the cocoa powder and smiling when you get the first inhale of it.

“Scare me some more and I’m revoking this mug privilege.” Jungkook knows it's an empty threat, the roll of his eyes calling your bluff so you just sigh, clutching the bag of mini marshmallows and bringing them close. “Yay or nay for the marshmallows?”

“Yay, what do I look like, an animal?” He scoffs, hand urging you to top off his drink with more sweets, a charming smile spreading out onto his face when you slide the mug over.

Just as he’s about to take a sip you walk off, both hands cupping your drink as you slide your way out of the kitchen. “Wait, where are you going?”

You freeze at the doorway, turning around with a confused face, “To binge watch some movies in the living room? The vent by the couch makes it the best place to get toasty.”

“Mind if I join you?”

The audacity of him to ask as if he didn’t regularly crash your binging parties, still you nod your head before turning back around and continuing your trek, hearing the soft patter of his bare feet against the floor.

“Why did you beg me to get you those cow slippers for your birthday if you refuse to wear them?” You wonder as you settle onto the couch, adjusting your blanket to circle around your lap as you bring your knees up.

Jungkook sighs dramatically as he sits beside you, bringing his bare feet up and shoving them underneath the pile of blanket around you, laughing loudly when you yell at the feeling of his cold feet against your silk pajama pants. “Because they’re cute, besides I don’t need slippers because my roommate has the best blankets.”

Accepting your fate you simply glare at him, detesting the way he could look as good as he does while attempting to push your buttons. The smug smile against the rim of the mug shows that he knows he can get away with it, a playful wink being the icing on top as he reaches for the remote.

You ignore the way your heart skips as he clicks onto your profile, already sorting through your favorite movies, knowing they were starred and saved under your list. As he passes Legally Blonde you gasp, almost undetected but he had been waiting for any reaction to know what to pick.

“You know, this has become one of my favorite movies now.” He quietly confesses, pressing play and setting the remote down onto the coffee table.

“Seriously?”

Jungkook hums as he takes another sip, eyes focused on the beginning scenes of Legally Blonde. This was definitely one of your comfort movies, even if he didn’t end up crashing your movie night he could still hear each scene from his bedroom, almost knowing every single line from how often you played it.

He proves his point as the movie continues, the two of you slowly sinking further into the couch, no longer caring about him using your blanket as makeshift slippers as you laugh each time he recites a line, adding his own commentary as he goes. The mugs of hot chocolate are drained dry, pushed onto the coffee table, freeing up his hands that somehow wind up playing with your own in a mindless motion, slowly tracing down your fingers to gently clasp them together before pulling apart and repeating.

Just as Elle Woods takes the floor to question the witness, the entire room goes black, Jungkook’s hands freezing on top of yours as you wait for a moment. With the loss of power you instantly feel the warmth begin to fade away, the vent right beside the couch no longer providing you the toasty escape you wanted.

“It was getting to my favorite part.” He groans out, resting his head back onto the couch, something you can just barely see in the darkness.

“Fuck is the whole block out of power?”

Jungkook pulls his hand away from yours as he stands up, knocking his knee into the coffee table and laughing as he tries to navigate through the dark living room. His silhouette makes it to the window, peering through it to see if maybe it was just your building that was shit out of luck, but the entire block is in fact dark.

“Yup, it’ll probably come back soon though.”

After two more hours and another mug of hot chocolate it became very clear that the power wouldn’t be coming back any time soon. Both of your phones lay screen down with the flashlight on as you finish up your drink once more, tightening the blanket around you now that the cold is becoming more prevalent.

“We’re gonna freeze to death.”

“No we’re not, it's a rain storm not a blizzard outside. We should probably call it a night though, the floors are getting cold as fuck.”

He had still refused to put on his slippers, allowing the cold tile from the kitchen to turn his feet into icicles. “You act like you don’t own socks or slippers.”

Jungkook merely waves you off with a laugh, grabbing his phone from its spot on the counter. “Let me live, good night!” His flashlight sways with every step, illuminating the trail before he disappears behind his bedroom door, leaving you with no other option than to retreat into your own room.

The door shuts behind you with a soft click, the rapid pattering of the rain against the window filling up the space and its no longer as therapeutic as it used to be now that you can feel the cold it brings with it.

Lighting up the candle on your nightstand, hoping the smell of gingerbread will convince your mind you’re not freezing, you settle into your bed. The feeling of your cold sheets against you has you whining, quickly pulling up the blankets at the end of the bed to warm you up as you ball into yourself.

It's only a few minutes later that you hear the gentle knocking against your door, the top of your head just barely peeking up from the mountain of blankets as Jungkook peers inside your room. The words he wants to say leave him when he takes note of the way you're being swallowed whole by different patterns.

“Holy shit, can you even breathe?”

“You wish you were this comfortable.” You laugh, tightening your grip on the blankets and pulling them snugly under your chin.

He shuts the door behind him as he steps further into your room, smiling when he gets the whiff of your candle. “That's actually why I’m here, can I steal a blanket?”

The idea of parting with even one of your blankets sounds like a sin, a frown etched onto your face as you contemplate it. “If you think I’m gonna give you one of these after you refused to use the slippers I bought you, you’re crazy.”

“C’mon,” he whines, sitting on the edge of the bed and toppling over to bury his face against the warmth, fingers clutching on when you try to wiggle him off of your legs.

“No, if you take one you’re gonna fuck up the balance I have going on right now.”

“Fine,” he grunts, but just when you think he’ll give up he starts to crawl over you, long limbs making their way to the other side of the bed. You feel the cold instantly as he peels off the comforter from the right side, making himself right at home as he slides underneath it in search of warmth. “We’ll share then.”

With the way he shimmies around, finding the best position to get comfortable, you know there's no way you can shake him. He smiles into the sheets when you grumble out a fine and turn over, not trusting yourself to be able to stare at his face from a close proximity and do something you’d regret.

A soft exhale leaves your lips as you force your eyes shut, ignoring the pounding in your chest as he inches closer so his legs don’t slip out from the blankets. You and Jungkook were roommates, and friends now underneath it all, but before you had crossed into friendship territory you realized you had a teeny tiny crush on him.

When you had first moved in he had a girlfriend, a girl you rarely ever saw since he preferred to go to her place, so it helped tame down the crush. But once they broke up and he began spending all of his time at home, the small bursts of his personality you would see lit that crush back up. It was always hard to tell if the way he behaved around you was just the way he normally acted or if he maybe had a small interest in you as well.

Forcing your mind from wandering deeper into fantasyland you nuzzle further into your pillow, pulling more of the blankets with you as you try to fall asleep. Jungkook feels the cold nip at his exposed ankle, huffing and flipping over to look at you with a small smile, the stolen blankets bundled around you nice and tight.

“Steal the blanket again and I’ll put my cold feet on you.” Is the threat he makes as his fingers clutch onto the top layer of blanket and tug it back. It's a threat you don’t take lightly, gaze narrowing as you turn your head to glare at him.

“You wouldn’t…”

His brows raise up at the challenge, jaw ticking out as he looks at you and before you can even react, he’s attacking, maneuvering himself around until he’s skillfully slipping his cold ass feet underneath the hem of your pants. You feel the cold instantly, a squeal of protest leaving you as you try to kick him away.

“Who the fuck sleeps with no socks in this weather!”

“Me, which is why I need the blankets you thief!” He laughs out, continuing to try to yank the blankets back now that you were distracted, pulling the soft fabric out of your fists as you start to admit defeat. With a small cheer of success he pulls the warmth up and over the both of you like a little fort, his eyes crinkling up in a smile as he stares at you, now positioned right on top of you.

Small pants escape your mouth as you slow your breathing, wide eyes blinking up at him as he refuses to move. The bed dips on either side of you as he holds himself up, lips still spread out in a smile, getting wider when he sees the way your eyes flicker down to them before looking back.

You wanted to kiss him, he knew this, had known of your crush since the very beginning. Jungkook had taken note of the way you would stumble over words whenever you spot him leaving the bathroom with just a towel around his waist, enjoying the flustered look on your face, that being the main reason he did it so often.

You thought you were slick, letting your eyes trace over the lines of muscle until it slipped behind the towel, but he simply let you get away with it, meeting your flustered gaze with that bunny smile you had grown to love. But as he hovers over you now there's no way he can pretend he doesn't notice the way your starry eyes stare at him, how you subtly lick your lips over.

With a small tilt to his head he finally breaks the silence, whispering gently inside of the little cocoon he had made. “I really want to kiss you.”

That gets him the reaction he wanted, the small gasp filling the air as your mouth drops open a tiny bit. “What?”

“Your lips look so soft, wanna kiss them.” His voice drops to a murmur, slow and husky as the words drawl out.

He wants to kiss you, something you’ve been dreaming of for months, and now your mind is betraying you as it struggles to unscramble the words needed to respond.

“Can I?” He asks, soft eyes looking directly at you and when you nod your head he tsks in disapproval, “Need to hear you say it love.”

The pet name makes you melt into your sheets, finally giving him a response as your brain releases your voice, “Y-yes, please kiss me.”

Jungkook smiles in appreciation before slowly inching forward, nose gently nudging against yours as he swoops in. Your eyes flutter shut when the softness of his lips press against yours, kissing back instantly at the first touch, your mind whirling at the intoxicating feeling. Jungkook can feel his heartbeat quicken when you let out a small sigh, your shy hands gaining courage and sliding up his sides until you’re cupping his face.

He winces at the icy feel of your fingers on his cheeks, the soft breaths of his laughter making you smile in between kisses, teeth knocking together as it begins to turn messy, the two of you just wanting more of each other now that the line has finally been crossed.

Jungkook lets you bring him in closer, balancing on his elbows as he slots himself between your thighs, the soft smacks of your lips blending in with the light crackle of the candle and the rain from outside.

A gentle nip of your teeth on his bottom lip earns you the first groan, the second coming when you trace your tongue along the seam of his mouth, slowly licking your way inside until it’s gently tangled against his own. Jungkook can feel his heart thrumming in his ears now, the realization that he was finally kissing you making his entire body warm up.

The way you had behaved with him, calling him bro, punching his shoulder whenever he told jokes in an act to force yourself from ruining the friendship, made him believe that this would never happen. He didn’t want to come across as the typical cocky boy who swore he could win everyone over but the way you’re gasping into his mouth, fingers moving to grasp around his neck to bring him even closer when he unconsciously rolls his hips into yours makes him feel like he just did.

Your wishful thinking had been true, the sweet gestures he did in day to day life stemming from the small inkling of a crush, something that had been planted the minute he started spending more time at home and around you. At first he thought nothing of it, chalking it up to enjoying spending time with his new friend, but soon enough he discovered he preferred to stay in with you, join you on your random quests to hunt for a new place to eat at, ignoring any other girl who showed any interest in him.

As the two of you continue to kiss inside the small makeshift fort, the air becomes stuffy, Jungkook pulling away with a small laugh. “Wait, can’t breathe.”

You let go of his neck and paw the blankets off your faces, the cool air of your bedroom finally being welcomed as you catch your breath.

“Better?” you question, smiling when he nods at you. “Good, now kiss me again.”

He doesn’t need you to tell him twice, lips cutting off the end of your sentence urgently, feeling the way you smile against him, your leg hooking over his hips like second nature. Jungkook feels like his head is spinning, the way your fingers move to rake along his hair, the soft gasps and sighs passed between you, he feels like a goner, the tipping point being your hips rutting up into his.

Both of you pause at the sensation, Jungkook moaning into your mouth as your clothed core grinds along the slowly growing erection pressed against you. “Y/N, don’t tease me.”

“Why?” you breathe out, pressing kisses along the side of his mouth and jaw as you repeat the motion, the usual fear of him not feeling the same long gone from your mind.

He drops himself further until his face is buried in your neck, goosebumps flaring out as his breath hits your skin when he speaks. “I’m trying to be sweet.” he murmurs, kissing your neck softly.

“You are being sweet,” you whisper, tightening your grip around his hip, smiling when he groans while you once again rut up into him. “Am I not being sweet? Just wanna make you feel good, Kook.”

Of course you were sweet, you always have been, it was the main reason his heart started to skip around you, why he clung onto your mug like a safety net, wanting to keep a small part of you with him. If you wanted to make him feel good he was in no position to refuse, wanting to reciprocate the sweet gesture instead.

Jungkook lifts his head up, dark waves falling over his face as he stares at you, wanting to see the look on your face as he gives the first roll of his hips into yours. He sees the way your teeth bite down onto your lower lip, pillowing the soft flesh out, mouth opening up to let out a gasp as he repeats the motion. There's never been a time where he’s been more thankful for a power outage than right now.

“Keep going,” you urge him on, sighing beautifully when he rocks against you again, hips nudging the leg hooked around his waist higher up with each slowly thrust.

“Fuck, you’re so pretty.” He sighs, taking a moment to fully admire you laid out underneath him, eyes sparkling as you stare up at him, mouth slightly parted as you groan at the small tingles of pleasure starting up inside of you.

“Wanna feel you.” The confession hangs in the air for a second, the trailing of your hand down his covered chest, fingertips tickling along the sliver of exposed skin above the waistband of his sweats, is what finally brings him back. His moment of admiration being broken as your hands slips past and gently grasps his hardened cock, the expected feeling of his underwear nowhere to be found because not only did Jungkook refuse to wear socks he also refused to wear underwear.

Your eyes widen at his size, already a nice handful and slowly growing the longer you hold it in your palm. As you give him a small pump you feel the exhaled grunt he lets out fan across your skin, his eyes falling shut as he pants out your name.

Jungkook gasps as your palm rolls over the head of his cock, thumb rubbing along his slit and dragging the beads of precum down his length. With a shaky hand he trails down your chest, slipping past your pants and underwear. A pleased hum escapes him as he feels how wet you are, fingers sliding along your folds, collecting your arousal before coming back up to circle around your clit.

“Fuck,” you gasp, hips jutting up at the tiny jolts of pleasure that spark each time his fingers circle around your bundle of nerves. This was definitely not how you thought your night would play out, still partially thinking you’re dreaming with your roommate asleep beside you but each time you blink the visual of his face inches from yours only gets clearer.

“How's this?” he whispers, eyebrow cocked up as he waits for a response, the tantalizing motion of his hands making your mind scramble once more, back arching up towards him as he applies a bit more pressure. Jungkook knows what he’s doing, the way his fingers find the right rhythm to leave you whimpering only to slow down right after, just because he likes the frustrated look etched onto your face.

A pout forms on your lips, your hands tightening their hold on his cock as you give him the same treatment, and as you slowly glide your palm down and back up, fingers refusing to go near his tip he groans in vexation.

“You’re not being nice.” Is what you manage to gasp out just before he picks up his pace once more, lips coming back down to yours in a hungry kiss, swallowing each moan as you let them out. Each pant through his nose is felt against your cheek as your own hands pick up the pace, the two of you working in tandem as the desperation starts to grow within you.

Jungkook wishes he could see you fully, not cocooned under a mountain of blankets, and for a split second he wants to suggest pulling them off entirely but the way the cold nips at your faces kills that idea on the spot. This would just have to do until the power came back.

“Ah shit,” he keens out in between sloppy kisses as your hands trail further down to fondle his balls, the beginning feelings of his climax creeping up embarrassingly fast. He couldn’t help himself, for months now he had wondered what it felt like to kiss you so this whole situation put his mind into overdrive.

You were on the same boat, the warm sensation spreading throughout you as his fingers continue to pinch and roll around your aching clit. “Wait, fuck I’m close,” you whimper out, chest rising and falling rapidly as you pull away from his mouth, a small string of spit connecting you together.

“Really?”

“Shut up don’t make fun of me,” you protest, gasping when he starts to kiss and suck along your neck.

“I’m not,” he mumbles, his hips rutting into your palm, fingers fisting the sheets beside you. “I’m close too.”

The whiny tone to his voice has more wetness gushing out, further ruining your underwear and Jungkook feels it as he fingers glide against your skin. That's enough to spur him on, quickening his pace with just the right pressure until your limbs are tightening up, back arching as your free hand clutches Jungkook’s shoulder.

“Don’t stop,” you plead, and he has no intentions to, smiling against your neck as your hand stutters along his length as the pleasure you feel coursing through you. Each roll of his fingers has you seeing stars in your dimly lit room, whines getting breathier each time until you’re finally coming undone with a cry of his name.

Jungkook feels the mess you make against his fingers, gently biting your skin as he starts to rut into your palm, the small twitches your body makes as he continues to tease your sensitive nub only making his need to cum grow.

“Y/N,” he mewls, pulling his hand out of your pants once you hum at your name, your palm trailing up his shoulder and into his hair to gently run through it. “Wanna cum.”

You bite your lips at his words, pulling your own hand out of his pants and he cries out at the loss of contact, face lifting up from your neck and the prettiest pout on his lips that you kiss away. “Cum, use me Jungkook.”

He eyes you for a moment, a subtle nod of confirmation being all he needs to slide down his sweats a bit until his cock slips out, a small sigh filling the air at being released from its confines. He licks his lips over as he grasps his cock, resting it along your core and sighing at the smooth feeling of your pants, the silk slightly cold against him, the small wet patch along it only making him shut his eyes.

When you widen your thighs for him to slot more easily he starts to rut forward, leaning back over you with his palms beside your face once more. Jungkook pants at the sensation, the gliding of his cock against your covered pussy, the small whines you let out each time he nudges against your clit, it kickstarts his climax once more.

“Feels good,” he grunts out, head bowing forward and pressing against your chest as he picks up the pace, hips knocking into you each time, beads of precum dampening your silk pajama set and mixing with your own arousal.

Jungkook doesn’t care how needy he looks right now, humping you like a desperate teenager because that’s exactly how he feels.

“Yeah, are you gonna cum for me Kook?” you whisper, caressing his hair until he’s looking at you once more, face screwed up as he teeters close to the edge.

When he nods eagerly you hook both legs around his waist, his mouth dropping open as he moans out unabashedly. “W-wanna feel you fully next time,” he grunts, jostling your body from the force of his thrusts, your pants wrinkling up around your thighs.

“You will,” you confirm, wanting nothing more than to actually feel his cock without the confines of clothes and blankets. “Once the power comes back.”

He chuckles at that for a second, smiling at you through the dull glow the candle provides but then his face twists up, brows pinching and jaw going slack as his hips grow sloppy.

“F-fuck,” he drawls out as his orgasm washes over him, hips rutting against yours with less grace than before, spurts of his warm cum splashing along your pussy and onto the small patch of skin above your waistband as he works himself through it. You sigh at the feeling, cupping his cheeks as your thumbs soothe him down.

Jungkook continues to rock against you until he’s whimpering in overstimulation, panting as he stares down at you with the dopiest smile. He turns his head to kiss at your hand by his cheek before bending down to press his lips against your in a gentle kiss.

“Did we just get to third base?” he whispers against your lips after the two of you fully come down, laughing when you swat at his side playfully, your own laugh filling the air as he pulls back to stare at you once more.

Suddenly your room fills with light, the two of you squinting at the brightness, the sound of the heater kicking back is followed by the warmth from the vents beginning to flow through.

You don’t even have to look at him to know what face he’s making, your promise of letting him fully feel you once the power came back flooding his mind. “No Jungkook,” you laugh, pushing his face away from yours as he inches closer like a child.

“Why not?”

“Because you ruined my favorite pajamas.”

He laughs freely now, kneeling up until the blankets slide off his body, his eyes staring down at your pants and analyzing the mess the two of you made. “I mean, you ruined them first.”

Okay he has a point, but instead of agreeing you simply raise your foot up and nudge it against his chest until he topples to the side, allowing you to stand up from bed with no fear of the cold attacking you. Jungkook smiles against your sheets as he watches you grab new pants and underwear before slipping into your bathroom, emerging a few minutes later with a pair of snowman printed pants instead.

“You wanna go finish Legally Blonde?” he asks, head perched up by his hand as he lays on his side, that charming smile on his face.

“It’s like two in the morning.”

He shrugs, not caring about the time at all, just wanting to spend more time with you, already knowing the two of you would most likely end the night having a discussion about more than obvious feelings after what just happened.

After staring at him for another moment you smile too, reaching your bed for the same trusty blanket you hand earlier and wrapping it around your body. But as he stands up from your bed you extend your covered up out for him to join you, a smile of success gracing his face.

“Wow, you’re actually sharing with me.” he coos, leading the two of you back out into the living room.

“Watch it, I’ll take it back.”

Jungkook simply wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you into his side before you sit onto the couch. “I know you will you cozy thief.”

#ficswithluv #goldenclosetnet #heartsforbts #btswritingcafe #btsghostie #jungkook smut #jeongguk smut #bts smut #jungkook fluff #new

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junicai · 4 years ago

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i search the universe.

| order no. | 5/21

| summary | Are ‘exploring’ and ‘being hopelessly lost’ synonyms? According to Jongin, they most definitely are.

| word count | 1.9k

| warnings | mentions of kidnapping but it’s just an old lady looking out for Aria when she’s with two very suspicious looking older men, sasaengs

| era | circa. January 2020

a/n: this definitely took a turn from the request, but i hope you still like it! if you’re not vibing with it, you can dm me, and i’ll see what i can re-write. thank you!

The tour was set to kick off again in San Diego, California, after a pause for the duration of December. The time off was greatly appreciated; Aria found herself sleeping for twelve hours at a time occasionally, her sleep schedule trying to right itself after having been flipped on its head too many times to count.

The flight from Seoul to California was long, and Aria had slept for a grand total of twenty minutes by the time they touched down on the tarmac runway again.

It had been Jongin’s idea to go exploring before their first schedule that evening, an invitation that was proposed to all the members but only accepted by Taemin. When Jongin’s deflated look was fixed on Aria, she crumbled like the weak woman that she was, and agreed to accompany the two older men on an impromptu trip around the city.

She’d never even left Ireland prior to joining the company (bar skating competitions, but those were less of a trip and more of a airport-taxi-hotel-rink-repeat combo, if you will) so each new city was met with widened eyes and dramatic oohs and aahs.

The trio had dropped their suitcases into their hotel rooms - Jongin rooming with Taemin this time around, and Aria with Ten - and pulled out a light jacket for outerwear, in Aria’s case, before they were marching out the door, masks pulled up over their faces.

Aria’s hoodie that she had worn on the plane lay on the bedspread in her room, her phone forgotten in it’s pocket.

The air was cool but not biting outside, and as Aria linked her hand into Taemin’s, the sun was still above the horizon. Jongin slipped his phone back into his pocket.

“The interview is scheduled for 6, which means we need to be back at the hotel for 4, which gives us,” He checked his watch, “Roughly two hours. Maybe a little more, if we push it.”

Taemin fixed him with a look. “Let’s not do that. It’s twenty to two now, lets aim to be back for twenty to four.”

Aria tugged on Taemin’s hand where the singer had still yet to let go. “Mhm! that way, if things go skywards, then we have time to take a back route or something.”

Jongin nodded, satisfied. “Okay! So, where first?”

Aria exchanged a look with Taemin, before starting down the street. “Let’s find out!”

With each building, came a new attraction to stare at. Small stalls sat at the street corners, attendees calling out to them to barter their goods. The buildings seemed to climb into the sky for miles, never-ending as far as Aria’s eyes could see.

The city was bustling with noise, cars passing on the wide streets with sharp beeps! that sent Aria jumping into the air occasionally, much to the chagrin of Jongin.

He caught her waist when she jumped backwards the first time, stopping her from flattening him onto the sidewalk. “You alright there?” He leaned forwards with a teasing grin.

Aria had huffed, swatting his hands off her waist before fixing her shirt. “Fine.”

The grin had stayed plastered on Jongin’s face for the next two blocks, widening further when the girl jumped again at the sound of a harsh tire squeal and a series of rapid-fire beeps following it.

Taemin lead the two away from the commotion, and they continued their in-depth exploration of the city and it’s secrets.

It was wonderful; Until it wasn’t.

Honestly, they probably should have realized when they started being followed. It happened regularly on the streets back home, but here, they were off-guard and so the first flash of a shutter going off send Taemin stumbling backwards slightly.

All hell broke loose from there.

A group of fourteen or fifteen teenage girls gathered, the leader of which had her phone gripped in her hand. “KAI OPPA!” She screamed, and like a battle cry - the others joined her.

Aria felt frozen, her legs refusing to cooperate with the frantic run, run, run run run that her brain was playing on a loop. The group advanced quickly, moving around the street corner and were only a few yards away when Jongin grabbed her wrist, fingers encircling tightly, and pulled her into motion.

They ran on autopilot, blind as to where they were going only knowing that they couldn’t stop. The pounding of feet was still deafening behind them, and Jongin speeded up, Taemin following suit.

It wasn’t long until Aria felt like she was doing less running and rather simply being tugged along by her wrist; legs pumping as fast as she could made them, but her strides were nearly double what she’d normally take even at a flat out sprint.

Taemin tugged them both into a small alleyway, hoping that the shade the towering buildings offered on either side was enough to shield them from the fangirls’ piercing gazes.

Aria bent over, hands on her knees, panting.

“Oh god,” Jongin coughed out. “Not a single day, huh?”

Taemin nodded sadly in commiseration, catching his own breath. “How did they even know it was us?”

“The hair, probably,” Aria mumbled, already pulling her hair back into her hood. The bleached blonde and sky blue streaks combination was a tell-tale sign, and she kicked herself mentally for not at least putting her hair up into a bun to hide the most dramatic parts of it.

“What do we do now?” Aria looked to the two older men. “Do we just try to make a run for it? I don’t think I can remember which way we even went, we were just running. Oh god, are we lost now? Can we even get back to the hotel?”

Taemin extended an arm, wrapping around Aria’s back and pulling her into a hug, before subtly moving them both behind a large sign that blocked them from view.

The group of girls passed by the entrance to the alley, chattering loudly.

“Where did they go?”

“Did you see which way they went?”

“Taeminnie oppa~ Saranghae, come back~”

“Who was the

“Okay,” Taemin took a deep breath. “Okay, we’ve done this before. My phone died somewhere back there, but Aria, do you want to call Baekhyun hyung while Jongin tries to figure out where we are?”

He received two nods in return, and Aria’s hands patted her pockets. The empty lining gave underneath her fingers, and her stomach sunk slightly in dread.

“My phone isn’t-” She looked up to Jongin with wide eyes. “I left it in the hotel room, I think, when I changed my jumper.”

Jongin put a hand on her shoulder, rubbing soothingly. “It’s okay, we still have mine.”

Aria’s breath was coming in slightly labored, with a light tremor that shook her chest.

The ringing sounded loud as it echoed down the alley, and Jongin scrambled to turn the phone on silent.

“What?” Baekhyun’s voice was tinny through the phone’s speakers, and Jongin moved down towards the end of the alley, out of Aria and Taemin’s earshot.

“Hyung,” Jongin spoke, heavy with relief.

“What? You’ve just woken me up-” Jongin interrupted Baekhyun before he could start yelling down the phone.

“Hyung, we got followed.”

“By who?”

“Fans, we think. They spotted us a couple streets ago, we ran and now we don’t know where we are.”

A muttered curse came down the phone line, and what sounded like Baekhyun shutting a door. “Right, find out where you are, and I’ll get the manager to come get you lot. This is why I said no to going out, you’re all tired and then things like this happen Jongin-”

“Hyung! I know, and I’m sorry you can scold me for it later, but right now,” He tossed a glance over his shoulder to Aria, who was encircled in Taemin’s arms. “Aria’s freaking out, and I’m not sure why, but I don’t think hiding in an alley is helping.”

Baekhyun was silent, breathing out another curse. “Taeyong, he told me - it happened a while ago, and he didn’t tell me a lot, but enough.”

“Hyung?”

“Aria had a bad, altercation, lets say, with a sasaeng two years ago. I don’t know what exactly happened - Yongie didn’t tell me - but I’ll bet that’s why she’s freaking right now. Maybe just-”

The line cut out.

Jongin shook his phone, clicking the power button. “Hyung? Hyung?”

Taemin looked over. “Is everything alright?”

“Phone’s dead.”

Aria’s head peeked up, wide eyed. “Really?”

Jongin nodded.

“So- so what do we do? Did you talk to oppa?”

He bit his lip. “Yeah, yeah I did. We’re gonna go find another store that’ll let us use their phone okay? And we’re gonna call the manager.” He turned to Aria. “Do you think you could talk to someone right now, Ari? Is that okay?”

Aria took a deep breath, closing her eyes and exhaling smoothly. “I can do that. I can definitely do that.” The tremor in her hands told otherwise, but she tucked them into her pockets to hide that fact.

“Okay. Okay, let’s go.” Taemin peered around the alley walls, looking and seeing no gang of girls waiting to pounce on them.

The trio stepped out from behind the building walls, and quickly jogged their way into the nearest café - two storefronts down.

“Miss? Miss, I’m so sorry to bother you, but could I borrow your landline for a moment? My own phone’s dead, you see.” Aria cleared her throat, peering up at the kind lady behind the counter.

Her wizened eyes took in the small stature of Aria, and the two men standing at the doorway, peering outside. They looked suspicious; hoods pulled low over their eyes, and masks hiding the bottom half of their faces, staring out the window as if they were waiting for someone to show up; and they were ready to flee.

Slowly, an understanding dawned on her - connecting the wrong dots together and garnering a jumbled up picture of the truth.

“Oh, dear of course, just come behind here and I’ll call someone for you - do you have your mother’s number with you? Your father’s?” She began to usher Aria behind the counter.

“Oh, no, miss, that’s alright, I just need to use your phone for a moment-”

The lady leaned closer. “Dear, if those men are trying to take you somewhere, you’re absolutely welcome to stay in the back room. Do you want me to call the cops?”

Aria choked. “Oh! Oh no- oh those are my brothers miss! They’re not- I haven’t been-”

The lady looked on with squinted eyes. “They can’t hurt you dearie, you’re safe now-”

“No, I promise you miss, they’re my brothers, they just don’t speak very good English. Can I please use your phone? Please?” Aria was begging at this point.

Reluctantly, a phone was handed to her, and she wasted no time in inputting Baekhyun’s number. It rang once, before being picked up.

“Oppa?”

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bunnys-beetlejuice-blog · 4 years ago

Text

gently rings a little bell in your ear My fic updated with two new chapters when you weren't paying attention! but now i am tilting your chin up with the point of my sword, forcing you to look. its very villainous and cool. this is part three of an increasingly convoluted story, part one can be found all the way over here but if you just want the high school romance stuff and don't care about found family, that's fine, i guess, but like, what's your deal

The weekend is a welcome relief from everything at school. He’s tired of feeling like shit, so Saturday, annoyingly bright and early, he startles Lydia awake by flopping on her bed. It causes her to bounce, and she groans, pulling the dark purple blanket further over her head. “Beetlejuice…” “I was thinkin’, today we should spend th’ whole day outdoors, in th’ park or somethin’,” he grins, and she lifts the blanket just barely, to glare at him. “You only want to play outside because all your stuff was taken away,” comes her accusation, and she’s not exactly wrong, but he just wiggles a hand under her blanket and gives her nose a poke. “Let’s go get lost, somewhere. Come on, Lyds, please?” She tries to hit him with a pillow but her grip is tired from sleep, and all she manages to do is shove the thing at him.

Twenty minutes later, she’s dressed and ready, bouncing on the balls of her feet, as he mulls over which button up to wear, the highlighter yellow with purple bugs, or the dark green with orange bones. They’re two equally ugly shirts that kind of give him a headache to look at, and both are favorites. “I can’t believe you woke me up at eight so I could stand around watching you go through your wardrobe.” “This is important.” He settles on the bugs, finally, and pulls it on before turning to Lydia, but she’s gone. He blinks, and sticks his head out his door, in time to headbutt her as she comes back in. Both siblings reel back and hold their heads. “Beetlejuice…” she groans. “Lyd-eee-uhhh,” he mimics her. She huffs and throws what she’d gone to her room to retrieve at him. He catches it, then stares. It’s his hoodie, his ruined one from that disastrous Halloween. He can still see that faded dark copper stain in some places, but it's better than it was. Also, the holes slashed in the arms have been very sloppily stitched with a thick, black embroidery thread. He looks back at his sister. “You seemed like you were having a hard week,” Lydia says, shuffling her feet. “I never sewed anything before, I’m sorry it looks kind of messy, and I tried really hard to get the bloodstains out...” He slips his familiar stripes back on and feels much more at ease. “It’s cool,” he tells her. “I like messy.” He holds open his arms and she falls into them, pressing her face against his stomach. It's a nice moment, and for once, he doesn’t feel inclined to ruin it, just pats his little sister’s head. “Love you.” “Love you too.”

``````````````````````````````````````````````````````` Charles, ever an early riser, is surprised to see his children in the kitchen this bright eyed and bushy tailed on a Saturday. He’s pouring two coffees, one for himself and one for Emily, who is sitting at the table, head propped up on her hand, and still functionally asleep, when Betelgeuse and Lydia come bounding in to raid the fridge. “And what are you two getting up to today?” he asks, and the siblings pause to look at him. “Goin’ to th’ park.” “You think so?” Betelgeuse’s shoulder slump. “Seriously? You take all my stuff away an’ now I can’t even go out?” “You’re still in trouble. Why should you be allowed to go out and have fun?” “Cause that wasn’t specified!” Betelgeuse tries, and then turns to Emily. “Ma, tell him!” Emily mutters in her sleep, and Charles wordlessly sets the coffee down in front of her. The smell hits her nose, and robotically, she lifts the drink to her lips, eyes never opening. “Let BJ go do stuff,” she manages, maybe not as eloquent as she normally speaks, her voice gruff from sleep. Betelgeuse grins up at Charles. His father sips his own coffee, and then pats his son’s head. “Home before dark. No fire, no demon nonsense, no taking drugs from strangers.” “Home at midnight, commit arson, summon Satan, enjoy stranger candy. I gotcha.” Both his children receive a kiss on the head before stuffing Lydia’s little black coffin bag with snacks, and heading out.

``````````````````````````````````````````````````````

It’s a big city, and there’s not a loss of things to do, especially with his powers, and there’s no adult supervision today. They find a café and enjoy a big breakfast, then he turns them invisible and they sneak away before the check comes, only reappearing a block later, Lydia grinning wildly. “Food tastes better stolen!” she says, and he pats her head. “There’s my little criminal.” They sneak into a movie, next, some horror thing Lydia had wanted to see that even Emily, the fun parent, had said she was too little for. It’s absolutely a gore fest, but not especially good, and they throw popcorn at the screen and cheer whenever the killer scores another victim.

“I think you’d die early in a slasher,” she says after, scattering their uneaten popcorn on the pavement in front of the theatre. She gets the attention of a whole flock of pigeons, which land and begin pecking at the kernels. “What’s your logic, there?” “You die on screen early and then the twist is you faked your death and were the killer.” “Ohh, classic. I love it.” “I’m a total final girl,” Lydia turns the half empty bucket upside down, much to the joy of the starving sky rats. “And then at the end, it’s like, I knew you were the killer the whole time, and I was just acting. Cause we’re in it together. You know, partners in crime.” He picks her up, slings her over his shoulder. “Always.”

He takes them to Central Park, next, holding her hand behind the theatre and apparating, accidentally, up a tree. She gasps and clings to him, and he digs his claws into the bark of the tree to steady them. “No worries, no worries. I just gotta..” They appear on the ground below, and Lydia looks dizzy. “Feels weird when you do that,” she tells him. “Like riding a rollercoaster, except your limbs are all asleep. But.. Kinda not that, at the same time.” It feels normal to him, but he regularly eats tin cans, so what does he know about normal to begin with?

Lydia takes her camera from her coffin bag, and readies it. It’s a little instamatic she got for her birthday, a few months ago, and she’s going through film like crazy, taking some pretty shitty pictures. He’s not that blunt to her face, though. It’s not like he was a rockstar on the ukulele when he first started, and she’s got a lot of enthusiasm for taking photos. He’s not going to be the one to squash that for her.

Also, he’ll bite off the hand of whoever tries.

“You think this can take pictures underwater?” she asks, aiming her camera at a random woman jogging by. The jogger makes a face, which seems to be what Lydia expects, because she snaps the picture as the woman continues on her way, and the little photo pops out the bottom. Lydia gives it an aggressive shake.

“I’m gonna guess no. Besides, it’s too cold for you to take a swim.” “So let’s go somewhere warmer. I’m thinking Hawaii.” “Good idea, genius, an’ how do you think we’re getting there?” “You can teleport us.”

He actually has to stop and think about that. “I don’t think I could do it in one straight shot,” he says at last. Lydia has moved to a different kind of voyeurism, because she’s on her stomach on the grass, following the movement of a trail of ants with her lens. “I’d probably have to do little distances, an’ get tired and need a nap in th’ middle.”

“Maybe through a mirror? Like Sam?” She adjusts the optic, an entirely useless motion, because this camera doesn’t have any kind of zoom feature. But she’s seen people do it in nature documentaries. “Never done mirror travel before.” He mulls that over. “I’ll practice when I get home, an’ see if I can even pull you through.” “You’re not allowed to go to Hawaii without me,” she gets what she considers her perfect shot, and then stands, brushing off her dark red dress. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

They go bone hunting next, Lydia’s camera still at the ready, his keen nose leading the way. It’s easy to find owl pellets, and she breaks one open with her bare hands, as he teases her.

“Ew ew ew, Lydia gross, you’re touching it!” he pitches up his gruff voice to sound like a tweenage girl, and she rolls her eyes. “No skull in this one,” she frowns, wiping her hands on his hoodie.

“Maybe there’s a bodiless mouse head around here, livin’ it’s best life.” She looks doubtful.

Another, different smell hits his sensitive nose, just then. It’s death, new and fresh. His pupils dilate, and he follows it, her trailing after him, assuming he’s on the scent of more animal bones. What they find instead is an old man propped against a tree. He’s still warm, but the color is draining from his face, and rapidly. He doesn’t look hurt, he’s not bleeding. It’s like he sat down for a rest and died.

Lydia doesn’t get it, not right away. Death is a funny punchline in an overly gorey movie. She’s never seen the real thing, before. “Should we wake him up? It’s cold to be sleeping here.” He lifts the man’s arm, and it flops bonelessly back down. Her eyes go wide. “I doubt he’s gettin’ back up, kiddo.” She lifts her camera and takes a picture.

“Hello?” He hears a voice, and turns. The old man is standing next to himself. He looks back at Lydia, but she’s staring in fascination at the corpse, so he leaves her to it. “Hey,” he nods to the man, who looks relieved. “Can you call my grandson? My phone battery died,” he says, not seeming to understand the position he’s in. Betelgeuse tilts his head to the side. “You’re dead,” he says, a bit unkindly, and Lydia, who has been kneeling by the body, poking it, looks up at him. “I am?” “Wh- No, not you, Lyds, th’ stiff.” He gestures to the ghost, who has seemed to notice “himself�� laying there. Lydia looks at her brother, confused. “There’s no one there.” “Sure there is. You just can’t see ghosts.”

“That’s me,” the old man says, not that anyone’s listening to him. “Should we tell someone about this?” Lydia asks him, and Betelgeuse shrugs. “Why? Someone will find th’ body eventually. You know. When it starts smellin’ like shit.” “I don’t want to leave him out here.” “Please, don’t leave me out here!” “I wouldn’t want to be left out here.” “Lucky for you, you’re never gonna die. You even try it an’ I’ll shove your soul back down your throat, if I have to.”

He smells the netherworld, and grabs Lydia, pulling her back, in time for another ghost to appear. A guide. The guide doesn’t even take a moment to look around, just instantly busies herself with getting the newly dead situated, and Betelgeuse picks Lydia up and carries her away. “That’s so sad,” she says, taking one last picture of the body from atop his shoulder. “I guess.”

They find the next official looking person they see, someone cleaning up trash, who doesn’t believe them, clearly, until he sees one of the photos Lydia took. The deathly pallor of the old man convinces him to go looking. Thirty minutes later, that part of the park is crawling with breathers, and the two of them are stuck on a bench, being talked to by cops. It’s a whole, boring process, and it’s drawing a big crowd. “Told ya, we shoulda minded our business,” Betelgeuse nudges his sister. Lydia is looking overwhelmed. Neither sibling ever gets this much attention. There’s even a news crew, though he can’t imagine what for. It’s just one old dead guy, and it’s not even a murder. Someone with a microphone tries to approach them, and he turns their mic into a black and white striped snake, forcing them to fling it away from themselves in a panic, and then he grabs Lydia.

They blink from existence and appear a ways away, and Lydia’s clutching his hand harder than she needs to. “Hey, come on.” His grating voice is soft, for her, as he kneels to her level, and she throws her arms around his neck. “How are you so calm? Doesn’t it make you sad?” she asks, softly, and he gives her an extra squeeze. “Happens to all breathers, Lyds. But it’s not somethin’ I gotta worry about, ever. So… no, not really.”

“Will you be sad when I die?”

He scoops her up, holding his little sister in his arms, and stands, her still clinging around his neck. “When you die at a hundred and twenty,” he tells her, carrying her along the path. “Wherever in the netherworld you end up, I’ll go too. Won’t even have time to be sad, me an’ you’ll be too busy causin’ trouble, even then.” She seems satisfied with that answer, and he doesn’t mind carrying her, so they enjoy the autumn leaves like that, her in his arms, as he follows the winding pathways of the park.

They don’t tell Charles and Emily, when they finally do get home, the sun just barely still peaking over the horizon. It doesn’t seem like a good idea, and Lydia doesn’t especially want to talk about it anymore. She pins her new photos up on the twine strung between the tall bedposts in her room. There’s a couple nice ones, and she lets him eat the ones she decides she hates. “Does it count as part of being grounded if you watch my tv?” she asks, and he grins. “Let’s find out.” She pops in Coraline, which he has to assume she’s got fucking memorized at this point, but they also talk through most of it. By the time the tasty looking bug furniture is on screen, her eyelids are drooping. “I dunno why they make her eatin’ bugs so evil. I wanna try beetles from Zanzibar,” he complains, and she just snorts in response “I’ll get you some fancy beetles, for your birthday.” “Kay. Sounds good.” She falls asleep on him a minute later, and he waives a hand, snuffing the lights, but lets the movie finish playing as he settles next to her, and sleeps.

``````````````````````````````````````````````````````` That next week is boring, but normal. Adam’s in the library every day, despite his earlier insistence that he had better things to do. Betelgeuse honestly just wheels the cart along and lets Adam shelf the books, now, which the nerd seems to unironically enjoy. He’s all smiles as he gets to put things away neatly. It’s embarrassing how endearing and cute Betelgeuse finds that. It’s Tuesday, Barbara isn’t there that day, at least, not right at that moment, so Adam is babbling about her. “Barbara and I aren’t really performers,” he’s telling Betelgeuse, returning a stack of history books to their proper places on the shelves. “But we thought it would be fun to try theatre together, and then we really enjoyed it, so we’ve been in the last two productions. She can really sing, she does this high note, and it’s-” “Angelic, I bet.” Both boys give a stupid, love sick sigh. Adam pauses, and nods, and then studies the other teen. “So.. You.. You like her?” “Yeah,” he says easily. “But that doesn’t mean anythin’.” “What do you mean?” “I mean,” he clarifies, flopping across the cart, stomach first, and laying on it, staring down at Adam, who is crouching to reshelf some more books. “That despite me being a hot piece of ass, I’m probably not her type. I imagine she goes more for…” he studies Adam, trying to think of a nice word for boring, plain and vanilla. “More stable guys,” he lands on. “Like you. I bet she even likes how cute your butt looks in your khakis. I know I do.” Adam flushes. “You think so?” “It’s a good butt.” He nods, and Adam goes redder. “I meant, you think Barbara.. Might like me?” “Well, don’t push your luck, or nothin’, but you probably got a better chance with her.”

“You’re not entirely unlikable,” Adam offers. Betelgeuse lets out a guffaw that’s too loud, because someone in the next aisle over shushes him. “You already forget what I told you Friday?” he rests his head on his hand, tone condescending. “I know no one wants me around.”

“You’re setting yourself up for failure, with that attitude.”

“You think so, huh? Think I just need to hold hands round th’ campfire and sing kumbaya with all you breathers? I don’t think anyone would even take my hand. Probably couldn't get away from me fast enough.” There’s a pause. He doesn’t realize what he’s said until Adam is repeating it. “Breathers?”

He doesn’t get a chance to reply, because he feels a push on the cart, and turns to see Barbara, hands on the handle. “You’ve completely given up even trying, haven’t you?” she says, and he thinks she means about the books, and smiles. “No point. Adam’ll just do it for me.” “I mean with talking to people. With making friends.” His smile falls quickly into a scowl, and he runs a hand through his wild mess of green hair. “Lay off me, Babs. I’m bein’ friendly right now, aren’t I?”

“Sure, it’s plenty friendly, letting Adam do your work. But you don’t try, and then you get your feelings hurt when no one does it for you.” That’s not laying off, and it’s irritating him. “You can’t imagine anyone being nice to you, so you’re rude and push everyone away the first chance you get, in case what? In case you make a friend? Kevin probably needs you, right now,” she presses, physically too, making the cart he’s still lying across lurch forward. “I told you what happened to his dad, and you just said he wasn’t even your friend, when everyone knows you spent the last few months holding hands and making googoo eyes at him, and only talking to each other.”

“S’none of your business,” he tugs at his hair, pulling a tuft down to watch the color. Still green. He’s okay, but he keeps it there, in front of his eyes, focusing on it and not having to look at Barbara. “I’m making it my business. What are you so afraid of? What’s with the barrier? I saw you with your sister, you’re normal and nice, to her. So it’s other people you’re afraid of?” “M’not,” he growls out, standing up off the cart. “Afraid of anythin’.”

“You are,” she says, letting go of the cart and stomping to stand in front of him. She’s got him cornered, his back pressed to the bookshelf behind him. He keeps his eyes on that green tuft, biting his bottom lip. “You’re afraid of rejection, so you don’t talk, or you’re a jerk to people. You’re so afraid of other people, you make yourself sit alone every day, even when there’s an empty seat next to someone else.”

“No one wants me around!”

God, that hurts. He can see purple forming in the tip of his hair.

“You think I haven’t tried?” he rasps at her, letting his hair go, and finally looking directly at her. “You think I like sittin’ alone, bein’ the weird kid in every class, not havin’ anyone to talk to? It sucks!” he hears himself being shushed again, and he expends a burst of power in that direction, knocking books off the shelves to hit the person who can’t mind their own business. The sudden noise makes both Adam and Barbara jump. “You ever noticed that anytime I’ve tried, people can’t get th’ hell away from me fast enough? I’m tired of bein’ alone, but every time I try, somethin’ goes to shit, or I'm ignored! So maybe it is easier to just be a jerk an’ not worry about gettin’ hurt, than to keep tryin’ and ache all th’ time.”

It’s the most honest he’s ever been, out loud. Barbara clenches her fists, but doesn’t say anything. He sees Adam push his glasses back up the bridge of his nose.

Lunch isn’t even close to over, and he’s just made more work for himself by knocking those books off the shelf, but he doesn’t care. He grabs his backpack from the cart and pushes past the two of them, and he storms out, forcing the library door to slam, even though it’s a soft close door. It feels more final, that way.

He spends the rest of lunch invisible, to avoid any more trouble with adults, and slumps into his customary seat in the back of every class, for the rest of the day. No one talks to him. He doesn’t try to talk to anyone. It’s a system, it works. Stupid Barbara. What does she even know? Like she can somehow understand anything he’s going through. She’s pretty, and cool, and has a ton of friends, he thinks, absolutely bitter. She doesn’t get it.

He trudges to the drama room after school, and pushes open the door with his shoulder. The seats are in a circle, again, and he chooses a random one, pointedly, away from Adam and Barbara, between two other people. He sits there, silent, and after a moment, the two kids both move seats. How miserably predictable. Come on, he wills himself. No purple, no red. Just stay green. You can go home and freak the fuck out, but just stay green, he begs his hair.

He wipes his nose hard with his hoodie sleeve, and focuses on that, on the texture of the fabric and the way he rubs hard enough for it to hurt. Pain is as close to relief as he can get. Then the chairs next to him are scooted closer, and he blinks, and realizes that Adam and Barbara have settled on either side of him. He doesn’t.. Get it. He can’t understand, but then both of them reach a hand out, and take one of his, and give it a squeeze. It’s grounding. He takes a breath he doesn’t need, and then a couple more, shaky and painful, and he gives their hands a squeeze back, like he’s making sure they’re real. They are.

When the club starts, he tries, very sincerely, to focus on what’s being said, and not the bright hot feeling blooming like a flower in his chest. Read the rest here!!

#beetlejuice the musical #beetlejuice au #beetlejuice fanfiction #adam maitland #barbara maitland #emily deetz #lydia deetz #beetlejuice broadway

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mommymooze · 4 years ago

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Grand ReOpening

Hubert x Reader 5,613 words

descriptions of violence, possession, Modern AU

You work at the newly remodeled and soon to be reopened Museum of History in Enbarr. A huge fire caused devastating damage to the old building, over half of the structure had to be rebuilt from the ground up. Donations pour in from private collectors in the form of money and items to replace those lost to the flames.

You finish arranging the items in the display finally locking the door on the huge glass case. Some items donated were questionable. Everything in this case is legitimate, you reassure yourself. You have already weeded out the fakes, the near perfect imitations. The director asks you how do you know? You explain to him the materials available for crafting such items, known specifics from inventories found in the locked away historical books, too delicate to be placed upon display. Sometimes you tell him you just have a feeling deep inside based on your experience and knowledge of the period. You can’t tell him the truth.

Whenever you touch one of these items, you close your eyes, the history of the item and its owners flash through your mind. It is easy to bypass the collectors, the ones that shove an item in drawers or hang it on a wall as a decoration for years at a time. The imprint left on the item when it was handled, touched, used is what you are able to see most clearly.

The small silver dagger in the upper left of the case. Its card reads: Dorothea Arnault owned this fine silver dagger. It is small enough to conceal in multiple places upon the body. Perhaps she may have concealed it in the curls of her hair for a ball or tucked it away in her corset or bodice.

They write the cards to romanticize the exhibit. People want a good story, not simply a display of stuffy items from long ago. Who would want to read a card stating she kept this particular dagger tucked into a pocket in her left boot for many years, which is exactly what you saw when you touched it.

Metal rimmed reading glasses belonging to the Imperial Spy Master, Hubert von Vestra. The card: Perhaps he wore them while brewing one of his poisons or when translating encoded messages during the war. Hah. He did not obtain these until fifty years old and mostly wore them when reading a book that struck his fancy prior to retiring for the evening.

Ferdinand von Aegir’s opera glasses. The Card: Fine mother-of-pearl covered opera glasses belonged to the Imperial Prime Minister, Ferdinand von Aegir. He may have used them when going to the Mittlefrank Opera house to watch Dorothea perform. Nope. Mother gave him these when he was but a child. Once he was older, after the war, he purchased a pair that much better suited his face, these were much too small for him as an adult.

Oh my, you’ve lost track of the time again. You scurry out of the building, making certain all doors lock behind you. Making it home just in time to change clothes, freshen up, you head back out for the Museum’s Grand Reopening Gala. Thankfully you are not on the front lines, that is the duty of the Curator, the Directors, those on the board and anyone responsible for schmoozing the rich guests, many who donated to the cause, keeping them happy. You put on your headset and have three laptops at your disposal, ready to answer any questions the staff has regarding particular items on display. You are literally fielding questions left and right. To the left are the searches for the director’s queries, to the right the Curator. In the center you follow on the security monitors where they are standing helping you to identify which particular item they need additional information about. Well past midnight you are finally allowed to leave. Security escorts you to your car and you head home for a well deserved sleep.

Two days later is the Grand Reopening. The tickets sold out three months in advance. The most devoted history fans always line up first to observe and breathe in the milieu. Listening to them mill about the displays, pour over the cases of preciously preserved objects is a joy for you.

“Look, this mirror belonged to the Emperor herself. I wonder what these items could say if they could speak. Did they reflect her face as she finished her makeup before one of the grand balls at the time, I wonder?” You knew the answers to some of their ponderings and could not hide your smirk.

A very tall dark haired male catches your eye. Dark suit jacket, black satin shirt, very nicely tailored. His jet black hair blocks the right side of his face from view. His fine leather gloves barely hover over the display case as he observes the items contained within. It suggests a hint of cosplay? Or perhaps he is attempting to channel the spirit of Lord Vestra? Your eyes sweep about the room regularly, spotting him in several different locations, each time it appears he is studying items that had belonged to the man he resembles. You wish you could see his face more clearly, however his back is turned or someone is in the way. You quietly move towards the end of the circuit the floor plan leads you through, close to the guard by the exit. There are three items of clothing belonging to Hubert this person would probably pause to examine, perhaps you can obtain a good look at his face then.

Finally, you glance through two panes of glass to see the face of the man. There is a strong resemblance to Hubert. Not exact, of course, but the cheek bones were close, the eyes are a similar shade of green. His skin tone is much darker, not nearly as pale. Your attention is taken away as the security guard a few feet from you is asked a question by an older woman.

Your focus is then called in front of you as a polite “Ahem” is noted. Standing directly before you and requesting your notice is none other than the tall dark gentleman that you have been secretively following for the last 30 minutes.

“My apologies. Not to be a bother, but I believe that you work here and would like to ask your opinion about something.” His long slender gloved fingers reach into his breast pocket, pulling out a golden box about the size of a cigarette case, barely a centimeter thick. His thumb activates a button on the case and the lid pops open revealing a dull yet clean looking folded yellowed cloth. The initials H.v.V. are sewn in black thread close to the bottom edge. The cloth is folded in a different manner than it normally lies in order to display the initials on top.

You raise your right hand up to the level of the box which is even with your chin. Touching the material with an index finger you feel the violence connected with the item, fainting straightaway.

You find yourself in the employee’s lounge with two security officers and the strange man. He is seated at a table nearby, you are located pleather covered chaise lounge, reclined. Bolting upright on the lounger, you gather your senses about you. The security officers called for EMT’s to check you out. Fortunately, you were unconscious for maybe a minute or less. You flush bright red and blame it on ‘female issues’. They insist that you remain and be checked out.

“I am terribly sorry. I assisted in bringing you back here and now that I know you are well cared for, I shall excuse myself.” The stranger stands to leave. You reach in your pocket, thrusting your business card toward him. He completes the exchange by handing you his. As he returns to the public areas of the museum the EMT’s arrive and begin their 1,000 questions.

After every possible vital statistic can be taken and recorded, they finally leave you to yourself and the security of the museum. They nod in agreement that it was most likely ‘female issues’ and you should increase your iron intake. Once you finally convince your boss that you are well enough to leave, you get in your car, grab some drive thru dinner and head directly home.

A warm cup of tea, comfortable clothing and your soft couch beneath you, you take a deep breath and begin to relax. You mull over what happened when you touched the handkerchief. That sort of reaction is expected when you touch weapons used in the war, used for self-defense, etcetera. You did not expect that from a handkerchief. The cloth was normally soaked in a strong smelling agent and held over the face of his target. Too early for ether, most likely mandrake root. Normally it would cause the target to quickly become unconscious, occasionally it would cause illness along with and possibly but not always death. One of Hubert’s weapons in the darkness, when silence was required.

You pull out the business card. Vincent H. Vestraegir. Hmmm. Possibly from the line of descendants. You enter his number and name into your phone, then text it.

You: I gave you my card at the museum. Do you still wish to discuss the

item?

Waiting for approximately 20 minutes you hear the notification tone.

V.H.V: Absolutely. Perhaps meet for coffee? Thursday or Saturday?

You: Thursday. Crown Café, 10am, after the morning rush has cleared.

V.H.V: Agreed. See you then.

Working on your day off, as usual. You log onto the Museum’s Employee website to check your email, the top notification is from your supervisor telling you that you will take a few days for yourself. The success of the reopening is greatly due to your hard work and you will take the rest of the week off. See you Saturday.

Well, well, you may get some sleep after all. After a fitful night of restlessness and strange dreams you awaken Thursday morning feeling overtired. It would be in poor taste to cancel the meeting, so you get up, showered and dressed. You decide that since you are doing this basically for free for this man, you have no obligation to him and refuse to dress up. Wearing your hair in a messy pony tail, GMU sweatshirt and jeans you head to the coffee shop a bit early. Hopefully you can get a full cup into you and wake up before he arrives.

You order a coffee double shot and finish it quickly. Bathroom, order new regular coffee, take a seat and it’s 9:50am. In the corner of your eye you see him walking past the café’s front window. This makes you smile, but you are not certain why.

He takes his seat across from you at 9:59am.

“Good morning” you greet him casually.

“Same to you.” He says, placing his phone face down on the table. He wears a long sleeve black turtleneck, fine dress pants, and black gloves.

“Please tell me what history you know of the handkerchief.” You request.

“Skipping pleasantries, straight to business, eh?” His lip curls at the edge of his mouth on the right side. “See if I pick you up off the floor the next time you faint.”

You roll your eyes.

He clears his throat. “There are several items that have been kept within the family. I do not understand the meaning behind them, why they are kept in separate or specific locations within the family residence or what significance they mean to particular members of the family. My family history appears to go through highs and lows, the most recent low is turning around, getting back toward recovery.” He pauses, enjoying his coffee for a moment. “My mother recently passed and I am now in possession of the family estate. I have not had much time to go through the property, my work is my priority. I have no intention of living there and have considered selling it. There are few things I plan on keeping for myself, the rest may go to the museum should you be able to find a use for them. I noticed at the exhibition there were some unusual items on display that I do not normally recall seeing in museum exhibitions.”

Quaffing your coffee, you take a breath. “I am sorry for your loss. The museum is changing its thought process. People are more interested in seeing the everyday life of those from history. The differences are always blown out of proportion, romanticized, too large to be true. The current exhibition is displaying the things of everyday life, to show these were not only persons held in high regard, but also humans with human needs, feelings, emotions. I agree with some of this, however there are personal items that I question if they would really want to have displayed.”

Mr. Vestraegir thinks on these last remarks, savoring the remainder of his caffeinated beverage. “Why are you concerned about the feelings of the dead? It is not as if they can come to you and complain.”

“Let us say this afternoon you are struck dead by lightning. The funeral is held in three days. Open casket. You are dressed in a white tuxedo, no gloves upon your hands. How would you feel about that?” You raise an eyebrow.

“Preposterous!” He blurts out. “I would insist on having gloves on and I have an ample amount of perfectly adequate black dress suits.”

“Why should be concerned with the feelings of the dead again? Why is it that you wear gloves? The weather is certainly warm enough they are not needed. You are extremely familiar with wearing them.”

“Hmm.” He nods in understanding, rubbing one gloved hand upon the other.

“You do have me intrigued. It is difficult to find pieces of history still standing today. It has been hundreds of years.” You wonder aloud.

“The original structure has been incorporated into the current structure. At one point walking through a corridor it feels as if you are stepping backward in time. Quite an unusual feeling.”

“When do you plan on returning there next?” You ask, thinking of your full calendar.

“In the next day or so. I want to go through some things personally prior to the movers bringing the more recently purchased furniture here.”

“I would like to accompany you to the estate. If you like, I can drive us there this afternoon. I need only to pack an overnight bag and a few items for research. My guess is you do not have internet there?”

“No.” He answers. You would have to use your phone. Not all of the house has electric, so you may wish to bring some flashlights or long extension cords as well.

Fantastic, less disturbance to the original structure you ponder. “I can pick you up in an hour if that suits you?”

He nods and it is a blur from there. Rushing home, packing, picking him up at the duplex at the address he provides. Stashing his items in the trunk you are headed to the highway.

Vincent as he prefers to be called, tells you what information he knows of the Vestra Estate. He had lived there for the first years of his youth. He and his father did not get along well and mother abided by fathers wishes. By the time he turns 12 he is sent to boarding school, graduating straight into college. Finishing his degree in law minor in accounting, he is an atty and CPA/Accountant.

There may be a few books at the property that have a bit of history in them, he’s never had much interest.

A brief stop at the store close to the house, you purchase groceries. Simple premade sandwiches, a few frozen dinners, drinks and snacks. As you wait in the car you suddenly realize you have driven far from the city with a perfect stranger, not even leaving a trail of where you are or who you are with. The perfect setting for a murder. How stupid! You quickly drop an email to your landlord, advising of your destination and how long you expect to be gone. You hesitate and do not leave Vincent’s name, that would only lead to more questions from her as she is determined to set you up with a nice bachelor.

Another 30 minutes and your car is pulling into the long driveway, the large house comes into view. He unlocks the door to show you in. He really doesn’t know much of the history of the place, it had never interested him. The two of you unload the car and he has you place your things in his mother’s old bedroom, located in a newer section of the house that has electric and running water. He goes back to the kitchen to work on groceries.

Beds are so personal. You take a breath and complete the touch. Trying to keep your mind focused on the edge of your vision. Fortunately, it is a newer bed and does not take long to complete. You will be fine sleeping here.

Vincent invites you to the more modern kitchen and the location of the food, coffee, and sundried items. He has a few things to attend to, leaving you free rein of the house to explore. He will get to specifics later tonight or in the morning.

He is absolutely correct about the corridor, they had built on to the house in multiple stages. You enter through the most recent and modern additions. The corridor seems to reach back further and further.

You slowly walk down the walls touching each section. Perceiving people passing through the corridors fill your vision, styles of clothing changing as you progress. You touch the doorframe of a small bedroom in an older portion of the house. The faces of the occupants quickly parade before you. You will the flow to slow, a young girl clings to a doll, nodding with tears in her eyes. Then the next owner, a young male perhaps ten years old with hair to his shoulders, citrine eyes. His brows are furrowed, and he is shouting, but you cannot hear what he says, anger written all over his face, his brows furrow deeply as if he argues with someone just behind you. The door appears as he is slamming it shut. Was that Hubert? Could this have been his room, you wonder. The room is decorated with old wallpaper with a feminine print. The coat of dust on the few furnishings reveals that the room has not been used or tended to for many, many years. The curtains on the window are of a thin lace, possibly being held together by the spider webs covering them, the bottom inches shredded threads.

The mantel of the fireplace and baseboards are the only pieces painted. The rest is left to the beauty of the original wood and bricks. Running your hands over the bricks at the edge of the fire box you see countless hands stacking wood, lighting the kindling, flames beginning to burn bright in the small firebox. Finally, you see older gloved hands, incredibly long fingers waving as fire bursts from their fingertips into the kindling. There are gaps until much younger but long spindly fingers cast magic into the wood creating flames.

Touching the firebricks making up the fireplace you reach out to the bottom bricks. On the right, the furthest one back is loose. A bit of maneuvering and you pull the block from its wedged in position. Three bottles lie on their sides. Without thinking you reach in to grab them. Hubert’s face comes into view, laughing with the bottles in hand. These are definitely his poison bottles, contents long dried. His handwriting on the side, coded of course, one is foxglove, the next mandrake and last is nightshade. A small paintbrush is also in the hollowed space. Removing the item provides visions of blades and darts being painted, and then the interior of a teacup.

Diabolical bastard. You admire him and hate him both at the same time. The Empire would not have won the war without him, however you did not need to firsthand witness his secrets. Sitting on the floor you catch your breath. The daylight is fading and you need to go back to your bag and set up lights and a flash light.

The room is different in the too bright halogen light. Rubber gloves in your pockets, in case something more lethal is found are at the ready. You begin touching the floorboards with your bare feet. You will notice if any has a special significance of course. Only after moving the bed and the rug that is beneath it do you find something. (the bed is approximately 300 years old, mostly for children, same with the rug.) A pocketknife blade at a corner edge and the board lifts quite easily. Several items are stashed between the supports for the floor. Gloves on and flashlight in hand you reach in and remove the items, placing them in a large clear plastic bag. You replace the floorboard and return the bed and rug to its normal position.

“Keeping yourself entertained?” Victor chuckles as he enters the room.

“Found a few things. Haven’t had a chance to look them over yet.” You say as you take the halogen lamp to the next room to inspect.

“I can make it easy for you as far as what few things I know.” He offers. “You’ve already been under the floorboard there. Next the master bedroom.” He turns that direction and you follow him with the light, dragging the extension cord behind you. He steps until he hears a hollow spot at a floorboard by the head of the bed, taking out his pocket knife, he lifts the board out of place, then steps back for you to see.

Bringing the flashlight you see a jacknife and several gold coins. You pick them up with your gloves on and place them into a separate plastic bag.

“That is all I know. I found the floorboard when I was much younger, so of course I had to stomp on every floorboard after that listening for hollow sounds.” He grins.

“Quite logical, actually.” You nod. “As a boy I am surprised that you left them here.”

He coughs. “There were more coins, I did leave some.” He looks away, the tips of his ears turning pink.

You both decide to stop searching for the evening. You’ve not had dinner yet and tomorrow is another day. Besides, you want to investigate the floorboard items further as well as show him the items found behind the fireplace.

Dinner is quickly tossed into a microwave, coffee brewed and laptops pulled out onto the kitchen table, connected to the internet via the cell phones. Both of you sit quietly, only forks scraping plates or fingers tapping on keyboards for an hour.

Closing your laptop, you place a soft towel on top and the first bag with the items from the fireplace. Wearing a glove on your right hand you take each item out of the bag, placing them on the towel.

“There were owned and handled by Hubert. I believe them to be bottles of his own poison. The brush is used to paint it upon his weapons, mostly daggers.” You relay to your tablemate.

Vincent’s eyes go wide. “You’ve just seen them. How can you swear to their authenticity?”

“The appearance matches what you would find from the time. The writing on the bottles closely resembles his handwriting from the samples we have at the museum, and the code is correct for three different poison types. The brush appears to be animal hair that would be used at the time, stuffed into the end of a tube and then crimped to hold the hair tight.”

Taking a small box of plastic bags, you pack each item individually. As you reach for the third bottle it tips over and rolls off of your laptop. You grab it with your left hand and read its history. Your eyes focus as Vincent’s fingers are snapping in your face.

“Come on, are you all right?” He questions.

“Um, yes.” You shake your head a bit, placing the item in a bag and back into the larger bag with the other items.

“Are you epileptic? You spaced out there. Please let me know if you have health issues.” Vincent pleads, the concern is heavy in his voice.

“It…it’s hard to explain.” You want to tell him something. You’re never this open with people, but he makes you feel like it is okay to let him know.

“Go on.” He says waiting patiently.

“I can see some things related to a history of an item just by touching it. I see who used it, how long ago it was when used. Yes. I must be crazy.” You nod quickly after your confession.

“I want to see it work.” He frowns, two wrinkles between his eyebrows get deeper. He stands and goes to a drawer, pulling out a large spoon and a knife. Both appear to be silver, one more tarnished and scraped that the other. He places them on the laptop.

You grab the spoon. You see his mother’s hand stirring long yellow beans in a pot before pouring a creamy sauce onto them, then it changes to different people, an older stove, another older stove. A black ceramic stove stirring gravy in a large heavy skillet.

“Your mother liked to use it for cooking yellow beans. It has been here for several hundred years, at least 300 based on the dress of the last man who had a beard was dressed.”

He looks down at the table and thinks a moment. “She loved wax beans. They look like green beans but taste a bit different. She would cook them in a sour and creamy sauce. She said the spoon was in the family for a long time. Now the knife.”

Taking the silver knife in your fingers it shows she used it nearly every day to put butter on rolls with jelly. There was a lot of time in the drawer, different users. Clothing styles changed. The age of the silver butterknife is closer to 450 or 500 years old.

You share your findings.

“I’m still not convinced.” Vincent reaches into his shirt, and pulls out a gold necklace with a ring hanging from it. A simple gold band with its necklace is placed with hesitation on the laptop. As he places it there your hand brushes against his glove.

“Your gloves are four months old, purchased at Baers and the saleslady had red hair. Just saying.” You clear your throat and take a sip of now too cold coffee.

Reaching for the ring your fingers touch it softly. Your mind is filled with its memories. He has it with him all the time, takes it off for nothing, then you see the crash, blood everywhere. You fall headfirst into the table. Vincent helps you sit back up in your seat as tears are streaming from your face.

“I…I am so sorry for your loss.” You choke and gasp as the tears fall from your eyes. “M-motorcycle crash. Five years ago. He would bring you little yellow flowers he picked from the side of the road.”

Vincent’s face lost all color. A tear fell to his cheek as he nodded. He took the necklace back and put it around his neck.

After a while he took the cups to the sink, “I think it is time to sleep.”

You nod and head to bed. For hours you lay there, unable to sleep as your mind plays back the last nine years of Vincent and his husband’s lives, together and apart. You should have refused to touch it, but you wanted him to believe. And now…now. You shake your head, turn over and stare at the wall again.

The alarm on your phone wakes you. You want to flee, leave this place. It is one thing when someone shares with you tragedies in the past, it is another to have them thrust upon you. You push yourself out of bed. You can make it through today. Once in the kitchen the coffee has just finished you reach to grab a cup. Seeing the two in the dish drainer, you carefully pick out the cup you used yesterday.

You find a note on the table that he has gone for a walk and to go through the boxes he has left in the living room. Grabbing a muffin from the counter you head to the boxes. Wearing glove you begin. A few interesting books, certainly a possibility to go into a collection, many of them simply too modern or of no interest to the museum in their current condition. A box of random items haphazardly placed into a wooden box. Some woodworking tools, chisels, a pocket watch that did not work but was several hundred years old. A coffee grinder, you would definitely need to check that out. Taking that and the watch you sit at the kitchen table. One by one you experience the history of the items. The pocket watch came from approximately 1300. The coins from the floor and jack knife were owned by Hubert’s father, Marquis Vestra. The coffee grinder, broken by a child, had belonged to Hubert at one time well after the war, during his retirement.

The bags from the child’s bedroom revealed two very different groups of items. Vincent himself had placed items in a pocket next to the ones he had originally discovered. Thinking they were a time capsule, he created one of his own including a letter about his 9 year old self, a green plastic army man named Lt. Schwartz, a yo yo and a few baseball cards. The other group of items were from a young girl. A cloth doll with a few wisps of hair still left on its head. A tiny gold ring. A slate and stylus used for writing letters and numbers, the wax long eaten away. A small carved wooden horse.

Deciding to see if there is anything in the last room as well as completing your inspection of the master bedroom, you take your half cup of coffee with you down the hallway. Coming to the end of the corridor, you hear a sound behind you. Turning slowly, you see the countenance of Hubert von Vestra walking toward you. Outfitted in his full Imperial dress uniform, his large stiff collar extends several inches up from his shoulders. A ruby red brooch holds down his cravat. You drown in the sound of leather creaking from his belts on his clothes and the swish of the heavy material of his jacket. His boots create a deep a thunking sound echoing down the hallway.

“Finally.” He says with great satisfaction. “It has been an eternity.” His right hand, void of gloves, reaches out to you, fingertips softly stroking your cheek. His pale skin is cool to the touch, it has always been that way, you think to yourself. He opens his arms welcoming you to be wrapped within them. Burying your nose in his chest you deeply inhale the familiar scent of coffee, parchment, ink and dark magic. How you have longed for this.

“What of Vincent?” you ask him, looking up into his beautiful yellow-green eyes sparkling down at you.

“We have come to an agreement.” Hubert chuckles.

The vibration of his chest, his deep laughter sends chills down your spine. After waiting nearly a thousand years to have him back in your arms the reward is so worth it.

Epilogue:

Each lifetime you searched for him, but your journeys were fruitless. This girl was the most cooperative, the most willing. You found her worse than Bernadetta in some aspects of her life, especially social. She shared this body, watching from behind, creating stories in her mind. You take control and immediately begin your plan. The museum holds his property, perhaps by touching these items you can call to him. Send a signal that you are here. But they would not let you touch the things that belonged to him. The display items you could reach, touch, were not his, only beautiful recreations. Even items held in storage at the museum were not his. You had developed a spell to obtain the history of an item by touch.

It was awful that you had to burn down part of the museum, but you needed access and you needed legitimate items. What people wouldn’t do to have their name on a placard as a donor. From the items donated several very real items were found. You found yourself touching them frequently, just to catch another glimpse of him. Your cohabitant could not take the violence, she caused you to faint so frequently. Perhaps now she may finalize her agreement with you, being released and then you and Hubert can finally have the lifetime together that was stolen from you during that horrible war.

You spoke often of death, war does that. Both agreed to move on and live the best life they could. Finding out Ferdinand was at his side made you happy, especially since it made him happy. Still, he had promised that no matter what, he would find you again and finish what was started. And so the rest of your lives begins…

#fe3h #fe16 #feth #fe3h x reader #fe16 hubert von vestra #fe3h fanfic #fire emblem three houses #hubert von vestra

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2manyfandoms2count · 4 years ago

Text

You can count on me (I will be there for you)

Penultimate chapter, here we go! Discoveries are made, and they’re not for the best. Hope you enjoy!

Special thanks to the lovely @theanxiouscupcake for helping me figure out the ending :)

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Chapter 8

Ladybug helplessly watches Chat sink out of sight, and she knows he won’t find anything good, wherever he’s headed. It’s less of a gut feeling (what honest person has secret mechanisms lying around their house in fiction, not to mention real life?) than an informed guess based on what she’s holding.

She’d hit the jackpot in Nathalie’s room. The envelopes she found weren’t empty, but they didn’t contain blackmail destined to Ladybug; it was clearly targeted at Hawkmoth and Mayura. Given that they’d all been opened with a paper knife, she doubted that Nathalie had been on the sending end.

The Peacock brooch she’d found in her nightstand, along with Duusuu, had done nothing to help Marinette in her quest for an explanation that could disculpate her.

She knows she's found what she needed, but it really feels like a Pyrrhic victory.

“Chat Noir? Is everything alright?” Max’s voice over the comms snaps her out of her thoughts.

There’s a tense silence as they wait for an answer, which she decides to break after a couple of minutes, for her own sanity.

“So, what did you find?” She asks, eyeing Markov. The robot is holding a USB key, which is unusual, since Max generally uses him directly as a memory source when needed. She doesn’t doubt that he also carries a copy of the data they’ve found, meaning that the information must be very important.

“An annotated digital copy of a Miraculous book, very expensive and regular butterfly orders, Hawkmoth redesign costumes, and elaborate plans to defeat you and Chat Noir.” Her friend enumerates. It all checks out. “Oh, and some music videos starring Hawkmoth.”

“What?” She frowns.

“It’s very disturbing.” Max grimaces.

Her next question is barely formulated in her head when Chat Noir’s voice reaches them. “Guys?”

“Chaton!” She refocuses on him immediately. “Are you alright?”

“I’ve found something.” His voice is strained.

“Don’t move, we’re coming.” She runs towards where the platform had been mere minutes ago, looking around frantically for the trigger mechanism.

Max puts a hand on her shoulder to calm her down. “Could you just tell us how to join you?” He asks.

Chat explains the steps in a monotonous voice that worries Max and Ladybug enough that they decide to ride the elevator together. It’s a little cramped, but the quicker they get to him, the better.

The tube quickly opens and they step out into what looks like an attic in a flutter of white butterfly wings.

Chat Noir has his back to them, his suit looking darker than usual in the backlight. He turns around from the truly impressive window he was looking out from when he hears them, a sad smile pulling at his lips.

“This doesn’t really look like a good guy’s den, does it?” He tries to joke.

“It does look a little suspicious,” she concedes.

“Did Adrien ever tell you his Dad was a lepidopterologist?” Max asks, a butterfly landing on his outstretched hand, as if he’s still trying to find a rational explanation for the situation that doesn't involve Gabriel Agreste being Hawkmoth.

“A what?” Chat looks at him, perplexed.

“A lepidopterologist,” his friend repeats. “Someone who studies butterflies.”

“Nope, I don’t think he has a clue.” He shakes his head and clears his throat. “But anyway, what did you guys find? Anything interesting?”

Ladybug hands him the envelopes and the brooch. His eyes fly over the letters’ contents, his expression indescifrable, while Max repeats his own findings.

“Max, what is the probability that Gabriel and Nathalie are just storing stuff for Hawkmoth and Mayura?” Chat asks gently, folding the letters again and giving them back to her. She sticks them in her yoyo for safe-keeping.

“I’d say about 0,0152%.” Max announces after a couple of seconds.

“That’s not very much.” He grimaces.

“Good thing Adrien didn’t come with us.” Ladybug whispers. “It’s… a lot to take in.”

“Sure is.” He sighs.

“Everyone, there seems to be another shaft here.” Markov interrupts them, flashing a red light to indicate his position in one of the dark corners of the room.

They walk towards him and study their surroundings, Max spotting the associated buttons first. Chat figures that it can’t bring them back to the study; it’s too far away from the first one.

“Multiple levels? What kind of evil lair is this?” Ladybug mutters.

“A professional one, that’s for sure.” Max replies. “Should we check it out?”

Ladybug looks at the time on her bug phone. They’re still doing okay, having been particularly efficient with their search. Or just very lucky that Hawkmoth and Mayura are bad at hiding compromising evidence.

She activates her microphone. “Nino, Kagami?”

“Yes, Marinette?” Kagami’s voice is prompt to reply.

“How are things going?”

“Not too bad, I think. Nino’s keeping Gabriel occupied, and I’m keeping an eye on Nathalie. They don’t seem to be in any rush to leave.”

“That’s good to hear.” She sighs in relief.

“How about you guys? Is Chat okay?”

“Right as rain.” Chat Noir chimes in. “We just have one more thing to investigate and we’ll be back.”

“Okay, cool. Keep us posted!” Kagami replies.

“You too.”

There’s a little static as Chat releases his microphone button.

“Right, so that’s sorted. I’ll go first.” Ladybug states more than she volunteers, calling the lift. She suspects Chat Noir would have liked to lead the way, but he’s a little pale for her liking, and Kwami knows what they’ll find on the other end.

“Are you sure?” He looks at her, contrasting emotions flickering in his eyes. On the one hand, he seems to be relieved that she’s taking charge of the exploration, but on the other hand, she knows he must be worried about her going first.

"You guys will be right down, it’s fine.” She smiles and squeezes his arm lightly, before entering the elevator capsule.

She’s surrounded by darkness for the first part of the journey, but the dim lighting of the lift is oddly comforting; she finds herself thinking that it might relieve Chat Noir’s claustrophobia.

The tube then transitions to transparency, and she’s suddenly looking out onto one of the largest and oddest rooms she’s ever seen, if ‘room’ is even the right word for it. The space looks like some kind of underground church, with its metal nave extending above a body of water and leading to a little garden, centred around a large tubular object. The latter is overseen by a large window that reminds her of the one up in the attic, except the panes are blocked off. It isn’t dark, though; a ray of light shines from above, and dim lights are regularly spaced along the sides of the room.

The elevator doors open and Ladybug steps out unsurely, not daring to venture too far. She feels very small as she waits for Chat Noir and Max, and a little uncomfortable, like she just broke into a sacred place. She untenses a little when they join her.

“What is this place?” Chat Noir lets out a low whistle as he takes in the grandeur of the space.

“It looks like some kind of underground crypt.” Max pushes his glasses back up on his nose. “We’re really not far from the Marais, maybe this was a church that sunk at some stage and was built over?”

Ladybug nods. It seems like a decent explanation.

Chat’s gut twists as he takes a couple of steps forward. He has an awful feeling about what lays at the end of the bridge, yet he’s inexplicably drawn to it. Ladybug and Max follow him carefully as he makes his way towards it.

The tube at the end of the way looks a lot like a coffin, they realise, and as they approach it, they must have triggered some motion detector, for its cover recedes, revealing a seemingly sleeping woman.

And not just any woman.

Emilie Agreste.

She’s dressed in a white suit, a slight smile on her lips, and holds a large bouquet of white and red flowers. She looks so peaceful, so beautiful. So like her portraits. Ladybug half expects her to wake up, green eyes twinkling as she welcomes them.

Next to her, Chat Noir’s breath hitches and his hand extends to touch the glass, a tear rolling down his cheek. It shatters as it lands on the coffin.

“You’re here.” He whispers.

Ladybug shares a look with Max, who encourages her to step forward with a nod. She does, lacing her fingers through Chat’s free hand and giving it a squeeze.

“I didn’t realise you were this close.” Her voice is barely above a murmur as another tear hits the coffin. Anything louder would feel disrespectful. Chat just nods in reply.

From this angle, she realises, Emilie looks just like Adrien; same fine features, same kind smile, same blond hair. She can’t help but understand why it must have been hard for Gabriel Agreste to look his son in the eye, at first.

“Um, guys?” Nino’s voice breaks the silence, making them jump. “I think we’ve maxed out the small talk. Kagami’s trying to hold off Nathalie but Gabe is just openly avoiding me now. Can we give them a bit of a breather?”

“Absolutely not.” Chat’s reply is icy as he angrily wipes his tears with the heel of his hand. “We’ll be right back, just need to call the police. Do not let them out of your sight, especially Gabriel. He might have his Miraculous on him.”

“Oh dude, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine.” He takes a shaky breath. Marinette gives his hand another squeeze and takes her yoyo out. She spots Max taking out his phone out of the corner of her eye and turns towards him slightly, blinking gratefully at him. Chat doesn’t seem to be in the right frame of mind to call the police himself. She calls Rena Rouge.

“LB?” Her friend answers immediately.

“Alya? Are you in my room?”

“Yes, need anything?”

“Could you get the Bee Miraculous in my sewing box, please? I’ll send you the code.”

“Sure. Do you want me to go downstairs and give it to Chloé? Or should I stay put?”

“We’re going to need you downstairs, but make sure no one sees you yet. We need all hands on deck for this.” She takes a deep breath. “And make sure Adrien’s safe for me?”

“Will do.”

She hangs up just as Max calls his transformation.

“There’s a unit on its way here, and another heading for the Château. They’re warning the police officers who are already on site, they’re going to start closing off the exits. They said they’d take the evidence from us over there.” Her friend reports.

“Good.” She says, and she sees Chat Noir nod next to her, eyes still aimed at the coffin. “Let’s go, then.”

Pegasus invokes his powers and jumps through the portal. Chat Noir tears his gaze from Emilie and goes to follow him.

Ladybug holds him back before he can step through. “Are you sure you’re going to be okay, Chaton?”

“I just need to end this once and for all.” He smiles sadly and kisses her forehead tenderly, before taking her hand and helping her through.

He turns around and blows Emilie a last kiss before joining his wife.

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februaryberries · 5 years ago

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Study (?) tips that you don’t see on every study post

Hi gamers, I just finished my first year at college/university!!

This year was really a struggle for me because I was trying to get the help I needed for my mental health, and I did not succeed until literally the week before finals spring term. I just got diagnosed w ADHD and put on meds (thank god) and I’m excited for the next year to come.

Though this year was absolutely grueling I did discover some little tips that can really help ! This is coming from my experience w ADHD but it could relate to other neurodiverse learners as well ! Even if you are neurotypical some of these might help !!

This post got really long so I’m gonna put it under the cut but, main Idea is bolded w a more in depth explanation underneath ( for those like me who see a block of text and go running)

In no particular order:

If you can/are up for it take a class before noon even if you are not a morning person. I am NOT saying take an 8am when u regularly go to bed at 4am! Bc that is dumb bb pls get some sleep. In my experience once I go to class my brain is like “oh things are happening now, it is actually a day and not just existing in a timeless hellscape.”

Once I am out of bed/out of my room I am at least mildly more productive for the rest of the day. Going to a class before noon means you are up and doing things for the day and early enough that you still have light. This ties into the next one

Start while it’s still light out!! At least for me I gain so much happiness from natural light/sunlight, and it is very hard for me to do things let alone START things once it’s dark out because my brain is like nope the day is over now. Plus in the fall/winter days days are getting shorter and shorter so it’s important to make use of as much daylight as you can. I feel like a plant w how much I rely on light to survive but it really does help!

Put on ‘Real People’ clothes. This is something that really helps me, even if it’s just like, jeans and a turtleneck, maybe tucked in w a belt. I’ve found that when I put on academic-y clothes or like Adult clothes it helps me switch my brain into school mode. It’s kinda like putting on a uniform for work? If I’m in too loose of clothes or like pyjamas for example, I’m much less likely to be able to switch my brain into productive mode. For me especially its when i’m wearing tighter clothing rather than baggy ones? Like i said a turtleneck which like the sleeves are fitted to my arms, and jeans or pants that are fitted to my legs. I think it helps because it makes me more aware of my body in the space? Idk. figure out what real people clothes feel like to you, and then have a couple of go to outfits you can slip on when you’ve been in a hoodie and sweatpants all day and really need to get some work done.

On that note, put on shoes. For me along w the tight clothing, I do better in shoes, specifically ones that lace up and can be tight. Like hightop converse, or boots, or even dress shoes w laces. I think in a way my body needs to be contained so I can focus on something? I’m not sure why I feel like that but i’ve learned to work w it. Putting on shoes for me helps because

1. I’m not distracted by what I’m putting my bare feet on (i cannot stand wearing socks unless im wearing shoes so yes bare feet)

2. I’m not getting distracted by my floor n the fact that hey maybe i should sweep bc there are some crumbs sticking to my feet now.

And 3. You put on shoes when you are going to go outside and go somewhere. It’s like putting pyjamas on to go to bed, you’re brain associates those items with doing something, so putting on shoes can signal to your brain hey we are doing something now, and that something is work.

Talk to your teachers !! I understand sometimes you have a teacher from hell and honestly idk what to tell you at that point but in a lot of cases teachers can be very understanding !! The amount of support I’ve gotten from my teachers this year is absolutely insane and 100% the only thing that made it so I didn’t get kicked out of college. Like reaching out to your teachers shows that you care! if you have to take a mental health day sometimes let them know !! i would always let my teacher know that I really wanted to be in class but I just couldn’t handle it that day. They also can help connect you to resources you didn’t know about !

Look into what resources your school has !! I was talking about how next year is gonna go now that I’ve been diagnosed and such with my friend, and how I was gonna contact the DRC (disability resource center) and she didn’t know you could get support for having ADHD!! Like I know you can get extensions on due dates, attendance forgiveness, and even potentially note taking assistance when you have ADHD and talk to them. even if you are medicated it doesn’t 100% solve everything and there are still ways to get support! Whether its study groups, writing centers/support, tutoring, or even contacting your drc or whatever your school has, it can really help!! I’m definitely going to take advantage of these resources if I can next year !

Find a place outside you can go to clear your head (or have a mental breakdown)

I can’t even begin to count the amount of times i’ve been freaking out over something or stressed out of my mind and my room started to feel to stuffy and claustrophobic and i just needed to get OUT. try to make sure it’s somewhere safe and close that you can go to even at night. (maybe try to shoot a text to your best friend that you’re out and if you don’t let them know you’re home by a certain time to start raising alarm, your safety is the most important) I tend to like to be up high because i’m further away from people, and the streets and I’m closer to the sky.

My go to thinking/breakdown spot is the roof of the parking garage a block away. It has stairs that are easy access and the top levels are usually empty even during the day. It really helps me to just go out and listen to music and collect my thoughts sometimes. My head can start going a million directions at lightspeed and I need to stop and be present, and being outside helps. It’s a good way to regroup.

Spend 10 minutes picking up your desk/work space. I tend to let my room get cluttered and messy and out of control a lot, to the point where I know it’s going to take at least a couple hours to get it clean again. It is also hard to focus when you’re in a messy environment. I would stress myself out and be like “well i HAVE to clean my whole room because I can’t focus if my space isnt clean I cant start until I clean” and then I would put all of my productive energy into cleaning, and get maybe halfway done before burning out and going to bed.

You’re never going to get any work done if you keep in this mindset. So instead just spend 10 minutes picking up the garbage off your desk, put the dishes in the kitchen, and put things back in their place. Then you will have enough space to work on your assignment and that space will be free of clutter so it won’t be as stressful.

DRINK WATER DRINK WATER DRINK WATER

Have a water bottle in front of you when you’re studying/in class. I get fidgety a lot when i’m in class/studying (thank u adhd) and so having a water bottle is a way for me to fidget I guess? Depending on the water bottle, you have little steps you have to do to drink that help u fidget,

for example: pick it up, take off the lid, drink, put the lid back on, set it down.

Or pick up, push button that opens drink hole (?), set back down.

When I have a water bottle on my desk it satisfies my need to do something with my body and comes with the bonus of staying hydrated, without me having to lose focus doing something else. Also you won’t get distracted by a sore throat or the realization that you are really thirsty.

Pay attention to why you’re not paying attention. Not everything that works for me is going to work for you, so you have to figure out what works for you. I started to notice that I would be uncomfortable or feel funny working when I was in baggy clothes and that helped me figure out I needed to wear real people clothes. If you find yourself getting distracted, take note of what is distracting you. maybe try literally making a list of things that distract you, so then you can identify patterns and how to combat them !

That’s all I have for now, I hope some of these could maybe help? All of these have helped me actually complete an assignment occasionally, and somehow keep my ass in college. I just want to say that my experience is my own and things that work for me aren’t going to work on every one. college can be really tough, especially your first year when you’re trying to figure everything out. I may not have all the answers but feel free to shoot me a message!! i’m here for you if you want to ramble about an assignment you’re fed up with or a teacher you hate or anything thats bothering you !! Everyone’s college (and life) experience is different so don’t feel bad if yours doesn’t look the same as the people around you ! Remember to take care of yourselves !!!

Have a good day :)

#mine #study tips #college tips #study advice #adhd tips #?#studyblr #study #bullet journal #bujo #dark academia #light academia #I'm fucking trying academia #notes #muji #college advice #idk how to tag #i hope these kinda sorta make sense lol

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muertawrites · 4 years ago

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Two Halves - Chapter Nine (Zuko x Reader)

Part Eight

Word Count: 3,200

Previously: The Dai Li staged an attack on the refugee district of Ba Sing Se, during which the Firelady killed an agent to stop him from assaulting a young girl. Her life was threatened by another agent, and after the attack, she and Zuko had an argument about her need for his protection, during which he admitted how much he cares for her. (and that’s what you missed on glee)

Warning: This chapter mentions details of violence and attempted assault. Reader discretion is advised.

Author’s Note: Aaaand we’re back! I’m glad I took the week off last week; I’m feeling much better (which doesn’t mean much but) and am slowly getting back into the swing of writing regularly. Hopefully next week I’ll have a one shot to post, or at the very least, will get around to writing the second part of Lunar New Year. I’ve also got some *chef’s kiss* immaculate Sokka content going up on Monday (which may or may not already be available on my Patreon 👀).

~ Muerta

Over the next few days, dozens of meetings are held. Despite relentless hours spent digging, Kuei’s intelligence agents can find no clear motive for the attack, other than to disrupt the peace that’s settled over Ba Sing Se since the end of the war.

“It's perplexing,” Kuei tells you during one of these meetings. “The Dai Li have never been outwardly violent; their crimes are always kept very hushed as a way of keeping the city under their control. This type of attack is out of character for them.”

“You're sure there wasn't a shift in leadership?” you attempt. “A change in tactics? A coup, even?”

Kuei shakes his head, staring grave faced down at the scrolls before him.

“No,” he affirms. “Even our informants within the Dai Li are confused by the choice to act so publicly.”

Aang diverts his trip to the Northern Air Temple back to the city, and Suki comes from Kyoshi Island with a group of warriors to lend a hand, Sokka in tow; when they arrive at the palace, he forgoes any type of formal greeting to the Earth King in favor of capturing you in his arms, hugging you as though he intends to cave in your ribs.

“Oh, thank the Spirits you're okay,” he gasps. “We’re moving to the Fire Nation and I’m never letting you out of my sight again.”

“Sokka, please,” Suki chides, placing a hand on your shoulder. “She nearly beheaded a guy - she doesn't need you chaperoning her.”

While Sokka fusses over your safety, refusing to be apart from you for more than an hour at a time (unless Zuko, Suki, or Aang are present), Suki and Aang jump right into giving you a bit of proper combat training - Suki gives you one of the signature fans of the Kyoshi Warriors, teaching you the basics of using it for defense, and Aang instructs you in chi blocking, showing you how a few swift jabs in precise places can incapacitate an enemy without injury.

“I actually learned it from an old friend of Zuko’s,” Aang confesses as you train in the empty ballroom. “She outwitted us more than once when we were kids.”

“Ty Lee is terrifying,” Zuko admits from where he sits propped against a pillar, sharpening one of his swords as he watches your lesson. “I'm glad my sister never had more influence on her.”

After your fight the night of the attack, Zuko takes a step back in his protectiveness of you. He no longer insists you be sheltered, instead allowing you to define your own limits of how chivalrous you need him to be; he seems more concerned over your mental health, inquiring multiple times a day about your feelings in the wake of nearly losing your life and taking another. You keep yourself together in public, refusing to show anything that could be used against you as weakness, but when alone with your friends - Zuko especially - you let your vulnerability slip, unable even in wearing a brave face to go about your days with the same shine you usually do. You wake Zuko more than once in the middle of the night due to a nightmare, which begins a ritual of you discussing things that make you happy before bed. He's just as bothered by the unrest as you are, a fact he doesn't hide from you.

To the dismay of everyone in the palace, it isn't just your friends that arrive to help with damage control - the international affairs committee hears of your actions during the attack and drops everything, sending diplomats to participate in Kuei’s meetings. Luckily, it's Advisor Sung who shows up instead of Advisor Qiang, and you're thankful to have the more even-tempered man to oppose.

“They're supposed to be on my side,” you remark to Kuei as you walk to one of the palace courtrooms together, on your way to a hearing about the raid - specifically, about the man you killed during it. “I feel like I shouldn't have to fight my own council while also trying to defend myself from everyone else.”

“If it's any consolation, most people in the Earth Kingdom support you,” he responds, affectionately patting your arm. “Zuko has done a great deal to help us rebuild since the war, and they admire your bravery to act alongside him. Plus, I'm the king - I make the rules here, whether your advisors like it or not.”

You grin lopsidedly at him, hooking your arm with his.

“Run away with me, Kuei,” you teasingly propose. “Let’s build a house in the desert; you and Zuko can be my harem.”

Kuei laughs and rests his hand over yours, bringing your knuckles to his lips in a friendly kiss.

“We need your good trouble here, my dear,” he tells you. “I also am not keen on the idea of being a concubine - your husband looked quite ready to execute me when we danced together, and I prefer to be on his good side.”

Inside the courtroom, a group of Kuei’s legal and affairs advisors gather beside Advisor Sung and his aides, all of them speaking in hushed tones. Toph and Zuko sit together to one side of the room with a few members of Kuei’s guard, having been gathered as witnesses. A young girl sits alone a few feet away from them, flanked by an older couple who each have an arm around her; you recognize her as the girl you saved the day of the raid.

“Your Majesty,” the presiding judge announces upon your arrival, bowing low as his fellows follow suit. “Shall we begin the hearing with your statement?”

“Yes, I believe we shall,” Kuei replies. He takes his place at the head of the room while you lower yourself beside Zuko; your husband silently tucks his hand into yours, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“Please describe the events of the Dai Li raid,” the judge states; beside him, a scribe scribbles shorthand on a blank scroll. “Specifically, your part in it and what you witnessed the Firelady do during it.”

“Dai Li agents were looting businesses and attacking civilians,” Kuei describes. “Firelord Zuko and Toph Beifong set to subduing the delegates of the raid while the Firelady and I rode through the district to incapacitate as many agents as we possibly could.”

“Did you discuss beforehand whether or not you intended to inflict serious harm on the attackers?” the judge asks, politely raising a hand to pause the king.

“No,” Kuei answers. “The situation was urgent and there was no time.”

“Were you armed?”

“I was not - the Firelady used a katana in its sheath as a means of rendering any attackers we encountered immobile.”

“Did you ever see the Firelady unsheathe the katana or use its blade?”

“Only once.”

“Please describe the incident.”

Kuei clears his throat, purposely keeping his gaze fixed on the wall behind the judge and legal council.

“I believe she saw them before I did,” he begins, sounding distant and disjointed. “A Dai Li agent had a teenage girl pinned to a nearby building, with what seemed to be the intent to assault her; the Firelady unsheathed the katana and slit the agent’s throat to prevent him from doing so.”

“What gave you the impression that the agent intended to assault the girl?” the judge calmly questions.

“He had her dress pulled up over her waist,” Kuei responds; he knots his hands into the fabric of his robes, so subtly you're not sure anyone else notices, “and his trousers had been dropped around his thighs.”

“Do you believe there is anything else the Firelady could have done to incapacitate the attacker?”

“No; anything else would have risked injuring the girl due to the… intimate nature of their position.”

“What did the Firelady do after slitting the Dai Li’s throat?”

“She took the girl to a safer area of the street. A group of residents had gathered in an unbothered storefront - she rode with the girl and deposited her there.”

“Thank you,” the judge concludes, bowing respectfully. “That is all the information we need.”

Kuei nods as one of the legal advisors hands him a stack of papers, quickly shuffling through them before speaking up.

“We’ll interview the guard next, if you agree,” he says.

For the next two hours, members of the guard - as well as Zuko and Toph - are interrogated, each giving their own account of the events of the raid. Toph, surprisingly, keeps her cool during the grilling, but one of the advisors pushes the wrong buttons when asking Zuko about his choice to not only allow you to come with him, but to take part in protecting the citizens of Ba Sing Se.

“You believed it was a good idea,” the advisor presses, ��to let your wife - a woman with absolutely no combat training - defend civilians not under the care of her own government against an invasive attack?”

“Of course not,” Zuko replies. “But she’s my wife. My responsibility as a husband is to keep her away from harm while also keeping her by my side. It was either fight the leaders of the Dai Li beside her or send her with the Earth King. I chose what was safest for her. I'd even say she performed well, given her lack of experience.”

“You truly believe that?” the advisor needles.

“How many men attempted to kill the people of Ba Sing Se the day of the attack?” Zuko counters with his own question.

“Forty-seven,” the advisor quips. “Not including the leader and his right hand.”

“And how many civilians died?” Zuko prods.

The advisor falls silent, his expression dropping in vexed defeat as he swallows heavily.

“... None,” he mutters.

Zuko keeps his blank, piercing expression fixed on the advisor, saying nothing; after a tense moment, the man announces that he has no more questions.

Eventually, the girl you saved is called to make her statement. She paces to her seat before the king with nervous, trembling steps, tears welling in the corners of her eyes.

Advisor Sung approaches her, the Earth Kingdom legal team having decided they have enough evidence to deliberate if a sentence needs to be handed to you; the Fire Nation, however, needing more information to defend their Firelady against any wrongdoing - a stance you feel they won't be quick to take.

“Bulan Ngo,” Advisor Sung addresses her, his tone even and measured. “Can you please describe what happened to you the day of the Dai Li’s demonstration?”

The girl swallows, parting her lips and closing them as if unsure to speak; when she does find her words, her voice is timid.

“A… a group of agents... came into our apothecary,” she attempts, looking into her lap. “They took us out into the street… me and my mother. One of them… one of them s-said… I was pretty… and another… suggested he ‘try’ me…”

“What happened then?”

Bulan’s chin quivers. A single tear rolls down her cheek.

“He took me to the alley,” she whispers. “And he undressed me.”

“Did he touch you anywhere that made you feel uncomfortable?”

She nods, shutting her eyes tightly.

“He put his hand between my legs.”

“Did he penetrate you?”

“N… no… his pants were… he took his pants down, though.”

“Do you remember what happened next?”

“He pushed me onto the wall.”

At this point, nobody in the courtroom breathes, and you have to strain to hear what she says. Not far from you, her father draws in a sharp breath as he brings a hand to his mouth, trying in vain to cover up a sob.

“Did he say anything else to you?” Advisor Sung asks.

“He… he said… he wanted… he was going to… ‘fuck me good’... he told me,” Bulan manages. Tears pour from her eyes. “And… and then I… his neck was cut. I was covered in blood...”

“Did that scare you? When the Firelady attacked him?”

“I…”

Bulan heaves in, shaking her head.

“I don't know… I was scared already... I… I don't know…”

“Did you know the Dai Li agent was dead?”

“Y-yes… I saw his body… as the Firelady took me away…”

“What did he look like?”

“Stop.”

You spring from your place beside Zuko, fists clenched.

You hadn't meant to, but you screamed the word at Advisor Sung. Bulan flinches at the sound, her shoulders seeming to fold in on themselves as she begins to sob, holding a hand over her face to obscure the shrill gasps of her weeping.

“My lady?” Sung questions, startled.

“Stop,” you repeat. “She's upset. You already made her tell you every last detail of the wretched things that monster did to her - she doesn't need to tell you anything else. Let her go. Question somebody else.”

Advisor Sung stares at you for a moment, the muscle beneath his left eye twitching; he looks as if he’s on the verge of glaring at you, but he draws back, his features softening as he nods.

“Of course,” he secedes. “Your Majesty?”

“You have enough,” Kuei snaps. He's moved from his throne, come to Bulan’s side and wrapped a comforting arm around her shoulders; he coaxes her onto her feet, returning her to the safety of her parents. “That’s all I’ll allow you to take from my people.”

“I’ll finish the statement,” Bulan’s mother chimes in. She cuts into Advisor Sung with a searing, steady gaze, positioning herself in front of her family. “That woman saved my daughter.”

She points to you, setting her jaw as water lines the edges of her eyes.

“My daughter is only thirteen. Her pain isn't for the man who violated her. None of us mourn for him. We mourn the innocence he took from her. We are thankful he didn't take more. If he had done so, I would have rather he killed her - it would have been more merciful than forcing her to live with the memory. The Firelady saved my only child from a horrible fate. As her subjects, you should revere her for that.”

Bulan’s mother is crying by the end of her speech, silent tears that drench her skin and make her words fiercer. She turns to you and bows, lowering herself completely to the ground. When she stands once more, Kuei gives her permission to leave the courtroom, sending the members of the guard that were interviewed to escort the family home.

“This hearing is dismissed,” he announces, glowering at Advisor Sung. “The Earth Kingdom will press no charges.”

Zuko slams the sitting room door into its slot against the opposite wall, the sound ricocheting down the corridor you just came through. He rips his headpiece out of place, tossing it into the nearby cushions as he roughly runs one of his palms through his hair.

“What the hell was that?” he barks. “What were they trying to do? It’s the kind of behavior my father encouraged! I thought I got rid of it!”

He flings himself back onto a nearby chaise, his hand covering his face as he pinches the bridge of his nose. You collect his headpiece from the floor, setting it on the serving table in the center of the room before lowering yourself beside him; your hands find their way to his chest of their own volition, rubbing gentle, calming circles over his pectorals and down his abdomen.

“It's only been ten years since the war ended,” you remind him. “People like Sung grew up with your father’s influence ingrained in them - it’ll take another hundred years for it to go away.”

Zuko sighs, turning his head to look up at you.

“I should sack him,” he suggests.

“No,” you retort. “That won't solve the problem, either. Sung’s a good man, he just has some questionable people guiding him. Once he's out on his own, we’ll be able to bring him around.”

Zuko sits up, fixing you with a concerned, pensive stare; your hand still rests on his chest, settled into the space just below where his shoulder meets his neck.

“That's not what's bothering you,” you observe.

“The Dai Li who attacked you,” Zuko explains. “He called me ‘Zuzu’. That was my sister’s nickname for me when we were kids.”

You knit your brows.

“But… how would he…?”

“She worked with the Dai Li during the war. They helped her conquer the city.”

Zuko takes your hand in his, locking his fingers with yours.

“You think she's behind this,” you conclude.

“It's possible,” he admits. “Azula is manipulative. Uncle was right when he said my father would have just killed us, but Azula… She knows how to destroy things from the inside. She's good at it.”

You raise your free hand to his cheek, running your thumb over the damaged skin on the peak of his cheekbone; his eye, glassy and clouded the color of a full moon, stares vacantly back at you.

“... I might have to execute my sister,” he mutters.

You shake your head, the hand clasped within his moving to cup the other side of his face.

“You will not do that,” you assure him. “You aren't Ozai, Zuko; you don't have to love your family, because Spirits know they don't deserve it, but you're strong enough to overcome them without resorting to the cruelty your father did. He only got his power because of your grandfather - he was weak. You've earned your own place as Firelord.”

Zuko swallows hard; you watch the bone in his neck quiver as he does. It's then that you realize just how close you are to him, your faces only inches apart, your noses almost touching. One of his hands rests at your waist. He licks his lips, and you can't stop your mind from wondering how they would taste pressed against yours.

He pulls away, his fingers tucking the braid that rests to the left of your face behind your ear.

“You're right,” he whispers. Tears brim over his lower lashes, threatening to spill. “I'm not my father.”

“Knock, knock!”

The moment is broken by Kuei’s entrance, his knuckles rapping against the frame of the sitting room door as he steps through the threshold. He backs up a little when he notices the intimate position you're in, his cheeks pinkening with embarrassment.

“Oh, I'm sorry,” he sputters. “I just wanted to let you know that lunch is ready - Mushi came from the Dragon to cook for us.”

You turn to smile at the Earth King, standing to block Zuko from his view so that he can collect himself, wiping the water from his eyes.

“Thanks, Kuei,” you say. “We’ll be there soon - keep some dumplings warm for us!”

Kuei bashfully grins, nodding as he retreats into the hallway. Zuko paces up behind you, placing a hand to the small of your back.

“I'm fine,” he murmurs. His lips brush your temple in a chaste, tender kiss, which you feel all the way down your stomach and into your core. “Let's go.”

For the rest of your stay in the Earth Kingdom, Zuko keeps close to you; there isn't a moment when you're together that he doesn't have an arm at your waist or your hand cradled in his. Your friends all notice, shooting you teasing, knowing glances whenever they catch your eye.

📚 table of contents 📚

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toomuchstory-toolittlebrain · 3 years ago

Text

Chapter one: A Near Miss

The rain fell hard and in buckets. It felt like the sky had been storing all its water until this moment and was just now letting it flow. Unfortunately, it chose the worst possible timing.

That’s what Muffin was thinking at least.

It caused her to slip across the split pavement of the once bustling city streets as she ran. The thing causing her to run was a gang of raiders who spotted her searching for food that had been left behind in houses. The rain was slowing them too but not as much as she hoped. She needed to put some space between her and the gang if she wanted to get back to base since it wasn’t exactly built to withstand the might of angry raiders. Thinking as quickly as she could, she grabbed a lamppost and used her momentum to swing around it and down the next street. A few of the raiders got tripped up as they were going too fast to turn that quickly but there were still a decent amount on her tail.

“Damnit!” She hissed, looking around for any other way to slow the rest down.

Unfortunately, the universe had yet to pity her and instead gave her a giant building in the middle of her path. A quick scan of the area revealed that there wasn’t anywhere else to go. She groaned and reached into the sheaths attached to her legs. Really didn’t want to use these. She thought as she removed the two daggers stored in the sheaths. Hanzel had made them for her as she didn’t have much to defend herself with other than a few sparse self defense tricks.

“Nowhere to run now you little nuisance.” One of the raiders said, signalling the rest to block off the road they came from.

“Good thing I’m no longer in the mood to run then.” She returned.

She clicked a button on the handle of one dagger, causing it to extend while pressing another on the other one that formed a shield around it. The raiders seemed to falter a bit at this before remembering that they had the number advantage they had and charging her. She caught the fist of one, twisting it at a painful angle before kicking them in the stomach before quickly raising her shield to block a blow from another raider's hammer. She made a few swipes at some of them, mostly going for the legs to try and slow them down or incapacitate them. Unfortunately, she didn’t get the same treatment and nearly got a limb or two hacked off.

Still outnumbered and running out of energy, she smacked the base of one dagger's handle and shook out a capsule. It hit the ground with a quiet clink and she stomped on it, causing it to erupt in a cloud of yellow tinted gas. She immediately pulled up her mask, not wanting to inhale whatever dangerous gas that had been packed in there before smashing one of the fallen building's windows and jumping in. She made her way through what appeared to have once been an office, jumping flipped tables and other debris. She eventually reached the other side of the building and shattered the window there before climbing through and finally removing her mask.

The rain still fell in droves and chilled Muffin to the bone but she knew she needed to press on if she wanted to warm up. With that reminder, she set off at a quick pace towards the base.

---

It took her a while but she eventually reached their base which was, in the simplest terms, a glorified treehouse.

Nep had begged them to move out of their old shack that Muffin had built and after some hard work, they put the base together using whatever materials they had.

Speaking of the little gremlin…

“HALT STRANGER!” A voice from the treehouse called, “STATE YOUR NAME AND BUSINESS OR FACE IMMEDIATE PUNISHMENT!”

“It’s me Nep!” Muffin called back, “You don’t need to do this every time!”

“AND WHO MAY THIS ‘ME’ BE?”

Muffin let out an exasperated sigh, “Nep I swear if you don’t let down the ladder RIGHT NOW you are in SO much danger when I get up there!”

“Fine, fine!” Nep responded, “Just chill out on the threats!”

With that, a rope ladder descended from a platform up above the trees which Muffin grabbed and began climbing.

She grabbed the top rung and a gloved hand reached out, “Need a hand there?”

“Finally willing to help, I see?” Muffin responded and grabbed the hand.

She was brought up to face their resident scout and mechanic, Nep. No one really knew what their old name was other than Hanzel but neither of them really talked about their life before the apocalypse so it was never brought up. Nep was helpful when it came to getting into small spaces or climbing up to something the others couldn’t get to. They were nimble and quick witted which gave them an advantage when it came to looking for possible dangers.

“Oh no need to be so grumpy,” Nep responded, “you know I just like messing with you.”

“Put a sock in it shorty.” Muffin said.

“Whatever mom.” They said.

Muffin sighed, “I thought we all agreed to pretend those code names never happened…”

“I don’t remember agreeing to anything.”

Muffin couldn’t help the annoyed groan that escaped her, “I can’t believe I put up with you people.”

“You can ponder your reasons for living in a treehouse with two scientists and a gremlin later, right now you need to get out of those clothes and warm up.” Nep said, shoving Muffin into the treehouse.

“Sitting in front of the fire for a few hours doesn’t sound too bad right now…” Muffin mused, allowing herself to be pushed into their base.

Right as the door opened, it was slammed shut, surprising the two stuck outside.

“The treehouse is currently closed for repairs, come back later!” Someone called from inside before yelping, followed by a loud crash.

“HANZEL WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO?!” Nep shouted, banging on the door, “And open this door! We’re freezing out here!”

“WORKING ON IT!” Hanzel yelled and a few dull thuds were heard before everything fell silent.

After a moment, the door swung open, revealing a very disheveled man.

“Sorry for the delay, “He said, “Millicent and I were just testing out a new invention.”

“How much did you break this time?” Muffin asked.

“Depends on what you consider broken.” He said, gesturing for them to come in.

The inside was a disaster. Broken glass and screws littered the wood floors. Amongst the mess was Millicent, scrambling to pick everything up.

“Before you say anything, I blame Hanzel!” She said.

“HEY!” Said scientist cried indignantly.

They began bickering and Muffin couldn’t help but chuckle slightly. Hanzel and Millicent were the smartest of their group. Eccentric, but certainly smart. Hanzel liked to create devices for the other three and Millicent was drawn more towards chemical related science. They got into a lot of fights but always made up quickly. It was a cycle for them really, get into a fight, explain themselves, and help each other finish some half baked plan as an apology. Currently, they seemed to have gone from apology right back to fighting.

“Knock it off you two.” Muffin cut in before they got too angry, “We can clean it up later, right now we can just have some dinner and ignore the monster storm going on outside.”

“Speaking of outside,” Millicent said, her argument with Hanzel quickly forgotten, “did you happen to find anything?”

Muffin shook her head, “No, raiders got to me before I could find anything. It was a nightmare to get them off my tail but the stuff you guys gave me definitely came in handy.”

“Bummer,” Nep said, “welp, let’s see what we’ve got for dinner tonight.”

Along with being the scout and mechanic, Nep was also the most adept at cooking. Whenever the other three tried to make anything it either came out mushy or burnt. They poked around the fridge a bit before coming out with some meat Muffin salvaged from someone else’s campsite and some random vegetables.

“Soup it is!” They declared and got to work.

“While they do that, I’m gonna go shower and get out of these soaked clothes.” Muffin said, “Honestly, I could almost skip the shower and just stand outside for a couple minutes.”

She walked off towards her room and left the other three to do as they pleased. Hanzel and Millicent began their argument again and Nep resigned to getting dinner prepared. It was honestly quite calm considering their circumstances. In some ways, they all got lucky. In others, their luck failed them. For example, both Hanzel and Nep were essentially ground zero for the infection and they both had the proof. A small portion of Nep’s right side was visibly infected while Hanzel’s leg used to be in a similar state. Unfortunately, his got too bad too fast he lost the leg.

Thankfully however, he managed to fashion a prosthetic with Millicent’s help. It wasn’t anything fancy at first but over time, he made it more effective and surprisingly useful. The two learned to manage the infection in their own ways, one of which being a formula Millicent cooked up that helped make the virus dormant as long as it was taken regularly. Millicent and Muffin didn’t get out unscathed either though. Muffin has more scars than she can count, most of which being from fights with raiders and the occasional wild animal. Millicent has a multitude of chemical burns from experiments gone wrong and an unfortunate encounter with a raider that got ahold of some of her chemicals.

But despite all these problems, they all managed to make due with what they had. It wasn’t an easy life, but it could be harder as well. So they took care of each other and made sure that they would always be there for one another.

#tw violence #caps tw #ac #apocalyptic chaos #muffin #nepoznat #hanzel #millicent

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themoonwheniamlost · 4 years ago

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do you have any advice on how to make friends in the tog fandom? everyone already seems to know eachother! :(

Oh, Non!

It’s absolutely not true! And I’m going to be honest, and tell you that this is something that I have been struggling with lately as well. So I’m going to give you my tips/recommendations first, and then I’m going to get meta and talk about this in a more dynamic way under the cut. Okay? Let’s go.

Things to do!

Follow people! Look at different mutual circles, follow a variety of blogs so you can see different sides of the fandom.

Comment, like, and reblog!

Play on people's tags, if you see a post you have thoughts on that allow you to reply do it! I know that I notice people who regularly reblog/interact with me.

(But I'm a very small blog, so don't get discouraged if someone doesn't notice right away).

Start putting up your own posts! Even if its just your headcanons or jokes that you think of. Put it out there!

Also, there is a very big part of the TOG community on AO3! So check out people's stories, leave kudos/ comments!

And if you see another comment that you like, you can also respond to those. You never know where friendship will sprout!

There is no way to tell when the friendship seeds you plant will sprout so while you're waiting. Here are some things to think about.

Honesty and authenticity will take you far. Don't get trapped in trying to fit an online persona.

70% of communication is non-verbal, so don't be afraid to make mistakes! There is a lot missing when it comes to screen to screen communication. Remember that you can always apologize, it doesn't make you dumb or silly.

Ask for clarification if you need it! (But also remember that Goggle exists)

This one might sound harsh but stick with me… no one owes you friendship. You have to find where you fit. If one endeavor doesn't work out, move forward, and try again.

The dopest thing about that last point is that you don't owe anyone friendship either. Make sure that you are protecting your identity, your well-being, and your peace. If you have to, use the block button! It is there for a reason.

You have to be willing to accept and uphold other people's boundaries, even if that makes you sad. You should also be willing to hold people to the boundaries you have around yourself and your space!

Just because you aren’t being racist doesn't mean you aren't being a dick. Just because you may be part of a marginalized community, doesn't mean you are always right. Be willing to learn and listen, we are none of us perfect.

MUTUALS do not always equal friends! And being mutuals with someone does not mean that you will have the same views on things. People are allowed to have different ideas than you and exist in the same space.

(Unless they say or do some wack, assholish, racist, phobic or intentionally harmful things. Then they can go.)

Just a few weeks ago, I thought I had found my people. And when it didn't work out I was really fucking sad. I admired these humans so much. And that’s when I got in my head about… if I was worth being friends with if I was funny or smart enough if I deserved to hang out with the coolest kids in town. Or if I was just a pathetic kid whose invite was mere politeness.

But guess what?!

Even if the cool kids didn't like me… the rest of those thoughts were all bullshit! I have to try and fight my inner doubts to keep trying to keep growing and reaching out!

And guess what?!? You get the opportunity to try again, pretty much every day!

So I think more than anything you should remember these things.

1. If you don’t reach out no one can answer.

2. The whole of your identity/self-worth should not be rooted in your internet presence!!! It's fine to find value in it! But you are more than just your internet self.

3. Know what your standards and boundaries are, then respect and enforce them.

4. Be yourself, be honest, be kind!!!!

And dammit try to have fun!

If all else fails, remember that you can try again tomorrow. And also that my door/asks are always open. Wishing you the best Non!!! (Sorry this is so fucking long…)

I hope your day/night is fabulous. Sending you happy and brave vibes...

🧡🧡🧡😚🌻🐝

#the old guard #fandom #fandom friends #thanks for this ask #Moon rambles #sorry i talk so damn much #ily tho #please keep reaching out to people #its hard sometimes #But I fucking swear its worth it #internet friends

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lovemesomesurveys · 4 years ago

Text

an internet/social media survey. 1 - Are you one of those people who shares absolutely everything on social media? What do you think about those who do? I do tend to overshare in surveys and I share quite a bit on Twitter. I’m pretty quiet on my other social media sites, though, in terms of that. It only bugs me when people share something and then someone asks about it and they’re like, “I don’t want to share it on here” or “I don’t want to talk about it.” You just did, though? Why post about it then? Plus, my nosy ass wants to know haha. I see that all the time on Facebook.

2 - Does anyone in "real life" know that you take surveys? Would you be embarrassed if they found your blog? I don’t think so. Back in the Myspace days people knew cause I posted them there, but no one in “real life” follows me on here. I’m surprised I shared those back then cause I don’t want anyone to see them now. Although, I wasn’t as open back then in surveys. I took the more basic ones and didn’t elaborate like I do now.

3 - When you receive a text message, do you reply straight away or wait a little while instead? It depends.

4 - Who was the last person you blocked on social media? Did you have an argument that lead to that happening? I don’t recall. It was probably some spam account on here.

5 - Aside from Tumblr, what websites do you spend the most time on? I spend a lot of time on YouTube.

6 - What was the first social media account you remember signing up for? Are you still a member of that particular website, if it even still exists? Ooh. I’ve had an online and social media presence for so long... like it was probably something that doesn’t even exist now. I remember some teen sites I was on that I guess were like the social medias of the day. For example, there was this one website I remember called Kiwibox, where you could interact with other people, post stuff, and it shared like trending topics and whatnot that I was a member of in the early 2000s. It was pre-Myspace. I don’t think it even exists now, but if it did I’m sure my account was deleted long ago for being inactive.

7 - How many social media accounts do you have now? Do you use them all regularly? If not, which ones do you think you update the most and why? I’m on all the common ones. I use them all, but I’m more active on some than others. Some I check regularly but rarely post. For instance, I’m super active on here and I post on Twitter quite a bit. I check Facebook a few times a day and “like” some stuff, but I very rarely post. I check Instagram and Snapchat, but not daily and I rarely post or even interact on there. I spend the least amount of time on those two.

8 - Are there are any popular apps/social media sites that you've never got into or signed up for? How come? Hmm. Like I said, I have all the main ones I think.

9 - Do you take surveys on any other website apart from Tumblr? Nope.

10 - Before Tumblr existed, what kind of blogging site did you use (eg. LiveJournal, Xanga etc.). I had a Xanga and LJ account.

11 - Is there anything you miss about websites like MySpace, or do you prefer social media the way it is now? The Myspace days were interesting that’s for sure. I miss the hype of changing up my page and adding stuff, picking my profile song, rearranging my top 8, changing my display name, follow forever trains, comment 4 comments... haha what a ride.

12 - How old were you when you first got the internet at home? Was it broadband/wireless or did you use dial-up? I remember it wasn’t long after my brother was born, so it was sometime in 1999. I remember when my mom brought home our first computer. Those were the days of dial up/AOL. Gah, I do not miss that.

13 - Are you old enough to remember life without any kind of internet access whatsoever? What kind of things did you do to fill the time? Ha, yeah. It’s crazy to think of the days before the internet, but I did have them. I actually used to play outside *gasp* That’s shocking cause ya’ll know I’m a hermit crab. I used to get so tan back then cause I spent so much time outside. Other things I used to do was play Barbies for hours, play with my cousins, read, color, and watch TV.

14 - Have you ever gotten into an argument with a stranger online before? Lol yeah.

15 - Overall, would you say social media is a good thing or a bad thing, or does it depend on how you choose to use it? It definitely has its pros and cons. There’s a dark side to social media and the internet in general, but a lot of good can be done with it as well.

16 - How much time do you think you spend online each day? Is this something that varies depending on the weather? I spend a decent amount of time online for sure, but it does vary. The weather has absolutely nothing to do with it.

17 - If your internet went off right now and you knew it wouldn't come back on for several hours, what would you go and do instead? Well, it’s 3:50AM so I’d watch some TV and attempt to go to bed.

18 - Since getting the internet, what's the longest period of time you've gone without access to it? Did you miss it as much as you thought you might? Probably the times I had surgery. I didn’t have to go completely without because once I was able to I was able to rent laptops that were available for patient use or access a computer while there. That was really nice during the couple times I had to spend a few months in the hospital. Even the shorter stays, like a week or two, I had some access at some point. But yeah, I definitely wasn’t on nearly as much during those times. Not at all the first few days/week. Then when I was back home and had my laptop I still wouldn’t feel up to spending much online. I did miss it, but I spent so much time resting and sleeping during the early stages of recovery so it was fine for awhile. I did start to get stir crazy, though.

19 - What's something you find yourself doing less of because you spend too much time online? Hm. I can’t think of anything I do less for that particular reason.

20 - What websites do you spend the most time on? Do these fall into any particular category or are they just random? Tumblr, YouTube, Facebook, and Twitter.

21 - What website from your childhood/teen years do you wish still existed? I miss Xanga a lot. The survey community was poppin back then. I miss the days, not so much the websites themselves, of Myspace, Neopets, playing games on Disney Channel’s and Nickelodeon’s websites, making dolls, and the AOL teen message boards. Good times, good times. Much nostalgia.

22 - Have you ever met up with anyone in real life that you first met via the internet? Did you get on as well as you thought you would? Nope. I had online friends back in the day that I talked to all the time and actually texted with. I even talked to them on the phone a couple times. :O That was during my Jonas Brothers days and I got close to a few people that I met through a Jonas Brothers’ message board and chatroom. I was pretty involved on there. I can’t believe I used to do that cause I wouldn’t do that now.

23 - What's your thoughts on internet dating and is it something you would ever consider for yourself? I probably wouldn’t do it myself, but hey if that works for people then go for it. *shrug*

24 - Do you tend to shop more online or in person? Is that something that's changed since the start of the COVID-19 pandemic? I do all my shopping online now since the pandemic hit, but even for a few years prior I was doing most of my shopping online.

25 - Speaking of the pandemic, did you find all the stories on social media quite scary or overwhelming at the beginning? Absolutely.

26 - If someone on social media annoys or upsets you, are you likely to tell them or just hit the hide/block buttons? Nah, I’ll just keep on scrolling. If it’s that bad then I’d likely mute or just delete.

27 - Are there topics you won't post on social media about, simply because they always end up in an argument? I don’t post about politics.

28 - Are you friends with your parents and family members online? Do you limit what you say because you know they can see it? Yes and yes. Like, even though I don’t post anything bad or risqué lol I still hide some stuff from my grandparents just because they wouldn’t get it, ya know? I’ve done that before and my Nana called my dad and asked if I was okay cause I posted some relatable self-deprecating meme or something haha. It’s sweet of course that she cares, but yeah I didn’t want her to get worried and concerned over stuff like that.

29 - Are you using the internet for anything else except this survey right now? I’m watching ASMR videos on YouTube as well.

30 - Do you access the internet more via a phone, tablet or laptop/PC? Which device do you prefer overall? I use my phone a lot for certain things and my laptop for others. Like, I much prefer the Facebook and Twitter apps, and I access Snapchat, Instagram, TikTok, the Kindle app, and my email on my phone as well. I use both for YouTube. I only like to access Tumblr on my laptop, though, as well as Pinterest.

#personal #text #survey #surveys #internet #social media

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wilwywaylan · 5 years ago

Text

The Artist above and the Revolutionnary below

Fandom : Les Misérables

Modern!AU, Enjolras x Grantaire,

Grantaire wants nothing more than enjoy the breeze and paint, but it seems that someone wants to practice the guitar. Very Badly.

Written for @shitpostingfromthebarricade‘s Same-Prompt Fic Challenge

Béta by the amazing @kujaku-myoo

Also on AO3 !

Working with the windows open had always been one of Grantaire's greatest life pleasures. Sadly for him, winter existed, and regularly put a damper on his plans by being cold, snowing, raining or wind-blowing, or a combination of those elements. But finally, finally, he was free of the clutches of a season that shouldn't have existed in the first place. Spring had taken its time, but it had finally arrived, bringing with it the delicious, warm weather that Grantaire adored. So as soon as he got up to sit at his easel (around 3 PM), he opened the windows and let the soft breeze caress his face. It was gentle, carrying with it the smell of the wisteria flowers on the balcony on the first floor and the chirping of the starlings starting to nest in the trees.

And something else that certainly wasn't the smell of wisteria or the starlings chirping. It sounded a bit like a guitar, if the strings had been plucked by someone with forks glued to their fingers. Maybe a bird was trying to get the strings to use them in its nest. Or that guitar knew a secret and someone was trying to get it to confess. Or something had fallen into the opening and the poor thing was desperately trying to get out of there by grabbing the strings. To say that Grantaire didn't really appreciate the thing that was resonating under his window and couldn't really be called music would have been the understatement of the year. And still... If someone closed his eyes, put his hands on his ears, and felt very, very generous, it could almost be mistaken as a melody, that, with a bit of concentration (and leniency), had a passing resemblance to... Wonderwall ?

Grantaire smiled. Talk about a cliché that someone sitting on their balcony during a warm day of spring would learn to play Wonderwall, if that was what they were doing. He went to his window, leaning out as much as he could to try and see the person playing. But the large windows of his flat, if they were perfect to give him some much-needed light, were a bit too set back to allow him to look at the player. By leaning on the ledge in a very dangerous fashion, he could barely see a pair of shoes, the cuffs of some jeans, and the headstock of the guitar, and nothing more. Not even a finger. Just a pair of old, battered, red Converse, pants rolled up at least twice, and a run-of-the-mill guitar.

To say that Grantaire's curiosity was piqued would be the understatement of the year. Okay, maybe it was due to his weird hours (that he decided on himself), but he wasn't very familiar with his neighbours. He knew the old Mrs. Magloire, he sometimes went grocery shopping for her, and she liked to pinch his cheek and call him a cute boy. Grantaire always refrained to ask her if she needed her glasses checked, and accepted the compliment with a smile. There was Mr Garrel, who put his awful music way too loud just when Grantaire wanted to sleep, and was always glaring at him like he was guilty of.. something. And of course, Eponine, who was living in the studio at the end of the hallway. Half of the time anyway. Other half, she was here, sprawled on his couch and criticizing everything he was doing. All in good fun, of course. He should ask her next time she'd drop by with a bottle of cheap wine and one of her awful DVD. She wasn't that better acquainted with the tenants of their building, but she held some sweet blackmail material. Maybe she'd know something about the mysterious guitar player.

Who was still butchering Wonderwall. Of course they had to choose a favorite of Grantaire’s for that. They couldn't decide on some Taylor Swift or something. Grantaire could have closed the windows of course, but it was such a pretty day.... And from his point of view, he had been patient enough. Now it was time to do what he knew best : give unsolicited comments. So he leaned on the windowsill as far as he could (he could still only see the shoes, bobbing with the non-existent rhythm) and yelled :

- I've played a lot of guitar in my youth, but I didn't know you could make that kind of noise. That's impressive, in a way.

The playing stopped. The feet moved, and for a second, Grantaire thought that the player would bend over the railing to look at him and insult him or something, but no. After a few seconds, probably spent weighing some options, the music resumed. Okay, no amelioration on this front. And he couldn't just let it go, he had work to do, and he couldn't concentrate with that noise. So he tried again :

- No, seriously. You should relax your fingers. And your shoulders too.

The music stopped again. And this time, he got an answer.

- How can you say that ?

Oh, so the person on the balcony sounded like a boy. Probably around Grantaire's age. Interesting. But they were probably waiting for an answer.

- Because I know. That's a basic mistake.

A small silence. The other (man ? boy ?) was probably mulling over his words. Or think about sending him packing, with his unsolicited advice. But no, after a few seconds, Grantaire got an answer.

- You play the guitar ?

- I did.

The man seemed to dwell on the past tense for a second, then the playing resumed. It was still disjointed, but sounded a little less like someone had stepped on a small creature. Still kinda disrupting, but way less. Grantaire sat back in front of his easel, and was pleased to see that his inspiration had come back. He went back to his painting, humming along the broken melody. From time to time, he threw an advice over the ledge, about fingers on the fret or to use the fifth cord more, but the mysterious man didn't answer anymore.

~*~

When Grantaire opened his window the next day, he was welcomed by the same clumsy playing. This modern troubadour wasn't very talented, but he sure was determined. That was a quality one could admire, even Grantaire who was careful not to be too engaged about anything. Sure, he could have chosen another song, because as much as one could like a song, there was a thing as too much Wonderwall. Two more days of this, and Grantaire could never hear that song again. And still, he didn't ask the mysterious man to stop, nicely or otherwise. He mixed his colors, spread them on his palette, and set himself to work. Soon, he was lost in his little world.

He was trying to stretch his neck a little without dropping his green on his lap, when a voice rang from downstairs.

- My fingers hurt, it whined.

It took Grantaire two seconds to realize that it was the mysterious man talking, and he was talking to him. He laid on the windowsill again and glanced down at the red Converse.

- It's normal.

- Normal ? came the scandalized answer.

- Yeah. You have to build some callus to play.

- But how ?

- By playing.

The man seemed to mull over it.

- Isn't there another way ?

- Sadly, no.

Another silence.

- Oh. Well. Thank you.

And the mysterious player went back to his guitar. Grantaire waited for another remark thrown his way, but as nothing else came, he went back to his painting. But he kept his windows open. One never knew…

~*~

It dawned on Grantaire the next day, as he was lugging his grocery shopping through the hall, that he didn't know the name of his mysterious neighbour. He didn't know the name of almost anyone in the building, but it had never bothered him until now. Taking advantage of a break before tackling the five stories with several pounds of fruits and a giant bottle of liquid soap, he took a look at the letterboxes. A helpful hand had written the flat numbers under the names, and it only took him three minutes of mental gymnastics to find the right one. If he had expected a first name, he was disappointed. Not even an initial, just a name, stern and direct. Enjolras. Grantaire let the name roll on his tongue like a fine wine. Enjolras. Ange.... Enjôler.... so many pretty words contained in that name. Surely, such a pretty name could only belong to a pretty face.

Grantaire tried to picture it as he started climbing the stairs. Maybe... maybe he would be dorky, at least a little. Someone who tried to learn guitar without any method could only be a dork. He'd probably wear glasses. And a nice buttoned-up shirt, with a pen in the pocket. He was trying to decide on a haircut (neatly parted in the center, or "hasn't seen a comb in three days" ?) when he was almost knocked back down the stairs, sending him on his ass, his oranges bouncing all around him, happily rolling down the stairs to their freedom. He started swearing, rubbing at his sore parts, but his voice caught in his throat when he looked up.

The person who had knocked him down had caught the railing to keep their balance and was standing above him, blocking part of the light. With his hair in wild curls surrounding his head like a golden halo, eyes as blue as the sky, and a face, a face... a face that Grantaire would have liked to paint, carve in marble or in fine china, with high cheekbones and a nose.... a piece of art, really. It lasted only a second before the man found his balance again, almost stepping on Grantaire's foot. He muttered an apology, gathered two oranges that he hastily deposited on Grantaire's legs, then jumped over him and skipped the rest of the stairs, scattering the other fruits in his haste to get out.

Grantaire simply sat on the floor, trying to process what had happened in the last thirty seconds. Did he really get knocked down by a vengeful angel stepped down from his pedestal in a flurry of righteous fury ? Did he suddenly get high in the fumes of his.... canvas bag in the five seconds it took him to go from the letterboxes to the stairs ? Did it really happen ? Granted, he just had to look at his groceries still lying all around him to know that, yes, it did happen, he didn't just imagine it. Besides, why would he imagine such a fine man living in a building like... well, like this ? He carefully side-stepped all the answers such a question could elect, gathered all his groceries and carried them to his flat, still carefully not thinking about what had just happened, nor his trembling hands, nor the look of beautiful blue eyes or the bounce of golden hair.

Once every orange had found its rightful place, Grantaire decided to go knock on Eponine's door. Maybe she could help. Or just listen to him as he sprawled on her couch and babbled about beautiful boys and boys playing guitars and whatnot. She would probably make fun of him, but that was how it went between them. He had done the same when she had come to him about Pontmercy, and she had been merciless during his last three crushes. And that's exactly what he needed, some kind of reality check.

He waited almost five minutes on the doormat before she deigned open the door.

- I hope you have a good reason to come here, she said.

- Are you busy, perchance ?

- Do you know what hour it is ?

Grantaire gave her his best impression of a goldfish.

- It's "Top Chef" time. You know what that means.

- It means that I'm very flattered that you interrupted your delicacy time for me ? Grantaire tried with his best smile.

- It's the commercial break. You have one minute left.

- But I come to you bearer of lamentations about boys and what could be the start of a crush. And a bottle of vodka, he added, brandishing his treasure.

She considered him, then the bottle. Finally, she moved aside to let him in. He grabbed two glasses in the kitchen and went to sit with her, almost falling over the shoes scattered here and there. He handed her a glass and kept his in his hand, swishing the liquid around as he waited for the episode to end, his thoughts still spiraling wildly in his mind.

When the credits rolled, Eponine turned to him.

- Better ? she asked?

Grantaire shook his head.

- Drink.

He obeyed. The alcohol burned down his throat, without easing his inner turmoil in the least.

- Better ? she asked again.

Shook again.

- Tell me anyway.

But what to tell ? That an angel was living in their building ? That there was a boy playing the guitar and Grantaire found it very cute, the way he was going at it ? That this boy seemed nice, but Grantaire could only cling to a nice voice and a pair of red converse ? All this and even more, it seems, because when he finally stopped rambling, the TV, now on mute, was halfway through a stupid game show.

Eponine poured him a second glass of vodka.

Eponine poured him a third glass of vodka.

- So, she mused, admiring her own glass. What you're telling me is that you just developed two crushes.

- I didn't develop any crushes on anyone, Grantaire defended himself, but he had to admit he hadn't really made a case for himself.

- If those are not crushes, then I'm the Pope. And do not try any of your "hello your Holiness" jokes. Thanks.

Grantaire made a face.

- I don't really have crushes. The one with the guitar, I don't even know what he looks like.

- So what ? Do you need it ?

- It helps. Not about what you think, get your mind out of the gutter, woman. (Eponine just raised one eyebrow). But for me, he's just an awful song, a nice voice and a pair of shoes. Not really husband material.

- But there's the other one. The angel, she reminded him.

- Oh... yes. He's... oh he's gorgeous. You should have seen him. It was like... getting a small glimpse of what Heaven could be. Do you understand ? An angel looked at me. I may never be the same again. I had the proof, after all these years, that there is a Heaven. And if there's a Heaven, there's a Hell too, and it's a terrifying idea, because it instills in me a fear of whatever is awaiting for me when I'll leave this sinful Earth. Whether I end up in Hell, where I'll be subjected to endless torments, or in Heaven, surrounded by creatures of such beauty. Whatever I'm doing, I'll be damned.

Eponine looked at him above the rim of her glass.

- All this in just a face ?

- Had you been there, you wouldn't talk about "just a face". "Just a face" is for the ones we meet in the street, the mere mortals like us. His is not "just a face", it's a masterpiece, it's a piece of marble molded by the hand of an artist, it's the Sun having taken a human form.

- The Sun ? really ?

- The Sun, and since I've dared lay my eyes upon his form, I am forever burned. Never again will I be able to see, I've been blinded by his radiance !

- Okay but what do you want me to do ? Buy you a pair of sunglasses ? Be your guiding dog ? And be careful of your answer.

- Do you know of a young, beautiful god living under our roof ?

Eponine mulled over it for a few seconds.

- I do not know of any blonde in the building, young and pretty or not.

- Alas ! My only option is to let myself waste away, forever separated from my love, sadly gazing at the sun in the hope of him stepping down one of its rays, straight to my atelier and heart !

This time, Eponine whacked him around the head with a cushion.

- Can you be even more dramatic ?

- I can, but you certainly wouldn't like it.

They watched the images move soundlessly on the screen for a few moments.

- I can try to find some information, Eponine finally offered. I'll see what I can gather.

- You're a true friend, and you know it.

- You owe me at least a pair of Louboutin for that.

- I'll buy you the most amazing bottle of champagne I can find.

- Deal.

~*~

Grantaire was starting to be very familiar with the way his brain worked. He had been directly exposed to a god among mortals, it was only a matter of time before it became too much for him and he started trying to alleviate the shivers running under his skin, the heart beating in an odd way, the agitation, in the only way he knew (beside screaming it on the rooftops). But this time, the disease seemed to progress really, really fast. Just the next day, he sat at his easel, grabbed a paintbrush, dipped it in paint... and nothing happened. His hand didn't move, not an inch, and the tip of the brush hovered above the painting without putting any paint on the canvas. No matter how hard he tried, no matter how he tried to set himself to work, he just couldn't move. That painting was due next week, or he would fail his exam, and he just couldn't do it.

After five minutes, he had to face the facts : he wasn't going to get any work done today, not until he got a bit of that obsession out first. He carefully put his painting aside, picked up his sketchbook, his pencil. He barely put the tip on the paper, that it started to, tracing ample lines on the white surface. Grantaire just let his hand move, seemingly on its own accord, let his mind wander as a lone figure slowly emerged. A man, standing alone, an arm raised, long hair cascading around him, a long sheet draped around his frame. Nothing fancy, it was the poster child for a study on how to draw folds. He would never show something so classical to his teachers, but for something he intended to hide somewhere he'd never look again (his sock drawer seemed like a very good place), it was pretty good. He couldn't yet exactly express the radiance, the warmth, the feeling he had gotten looking into those beautiful eyes, but that was only the first of a long series. He knew it. There was no hope in fighting it. He was done ; better enjoy the ride as he could until it finally faded away, and went with the other on a shelf far away in his mind.

~*~

But the ride lasted. Every day, when he got up and sat at his easel, the beautiful face appeared under his pencil. From the front, from the side, in close-ups or full-length, dressed in full XIXe century outfits, formal jackets or tight pants, studies of his eyes, his hair, .... The drawings were piling up in a drawer, or rather drawers since the first had been filled very, very fast. But he couldn't stop himself. He needed to. His hand itched to trace this beautiful face once again, form the delicate lashes, the curve of his eye or the bow of his mouth. And so he did, again and again.

But of course, it didn't help. No matter how many times he drew the man, his face didn't leave his mind. When he was cooking, when he was cleaning, sorting his socks, watching trash TV, ... Always, the scene replayed in a corner of his mind. Had he known these five seconds would play an endless loop for his sole benefit... he wouldn't have changed a thing, to enjoy that delicious torment once again, the delicious burn, the delicious feeling of yearning that kept him awake at night, tossing and turning for hours.

Okay, maybe he would have changed one thing ; in the hundreds of times he had replayed the scene in his mind, he hadn't once stood there to gape at the vision ; always, he caught the angel in a way or another, swept him off his feet, or fell down at his, or at least found something smart to do. A conversation would engage, he would get the perfect stranger's name, seduce him in a few well-chosen sentences, enthrall him with his wit, a conversation would follow....

But always too soon, he would be reminded that no, he didn't get the perfect stranger's name, or even his attention past the bare minimum you allowed to someone you bumped into in the stairs. He had gone his merry way, getting out of Grantaire's life at the same time, never to be heard of again. Each time the thought came to disturb his daydream, Grantaire did his best to push it out of his mind, but if he could ignore the truth, he couldn't as well push the sudden jolt of pain out of his chest, no matter how hard he tried. He buried it under work, drawing the stranger's face and, he was a bit ashamed, drinking a bit more than usual, but it was only a brief respite.

But still, through this ordeal, there was one thing that was able to pull his mind from that never-ending daydreaming state. Every day, rain or sun, as he opened his windows, he had been welcomed by the clumsy guitar playing from the mysterious boy. Enjolras, if that was his name, was very conscious with his practice, and to Grantaire's delight (and relief), he had started to get better. Still not very good, but at least it wasn't grating anymore.

They had exchanged a few words here and there, mainly Grantaire throwing advice out the window, and the boy answering, sometimes in jest. He had a clear voice, and some wit that wasn't unpleasant. He hadn't really struck a conversation with Grantaire yet, but he seemed to appreciate his presence none-the-less. At least that's what Grantaire wanted to think. Maybe the playing softening when they talked was just wishful thinking, but that wasn't forbidden, now, wasn't it ?

It was during one of these afternoons, when he finally managed to get back to work after adding yet another sketch to his growing collection, that he decided to try and get a more consistent conversation with Enjolras, or whatever his name was. He laid on the windowsill as usual ; the red shoes were still bobbing in something that could be a rhythm. Good.

- Hey, he called.

There was a horribly discordant note, and the playing stopped. Enjolras muttered something that probably wasn't very polite.

- What ? he answered.

- You've been working very hard at that song, and this is very impressive, but I was wondering... Is there a reason you want so much to learn it ? A favourite of yours, perhaps ?

No answer.

- Is it for an occasion, maybe ? he added.

- Yes.

- You want to serenade someone, maybe ? Because that may be an interesting choice for a serenade.

- No !

The voice was indignant, and Grantaire couldn't help but snicker, silently, of course.

- So ? Why the urge ?

- There'll be a protest soon, the boy answered after a few moments. We're protesting the closing of the community center downtown. THere's no real reason except that they don't want to waste money on poor people because they think they aren't cultured enough to understand, enjoy or benefit from arts programs. Those....

Grantaire rolled his eyes as hard as he could. Good, another bleeding-heart, well-meaning boy with stars in his eyes and a will to change the world. An idealist who hadn't yet seen that the world was full of assholes and injustice. But still, Grantaire couldn't think too badly of him. Without those programs, he'd never had discovered the fine arts, and he'd never chosen to study them. He couldn't really blame him to want to maintain them against all odds and assholes who didn't think about anything but their wallets and how to make them fatter. It was admirable, in a way. The world hadn't yet managed to bring him down. Maybe he hadn't yet met that many assholes. Or he was just too tough for them. Either way, good for him. But Grantaire couldn't really say so, not if he wanted to keep that fragile relationship going.

- That's really cool, he said instead.

- You think so ?

The giddiness in the boy's voice made Grantaire's smile.

- Yeah, it's good. Someone has to fight the good fight.

It was silly, and Grantaire was starting to fear that the boy would hear that he wasn't that convinced. But luckily, it wasn't enough to damper his spirits. Or maybe the distance played in his favor.

- So, Grantaire asked, you want to play at the protest ?

- We're all doing something... artistic, to show how important it is, and how uplifting and inspiring arts really are.

- And you picked the guitar.

- Yes.

- And you can't play.

- No. But I'm going to learn it anyway.

- I bet you will.

The playing resumed, and Grantaire went back to his painting, smiling, the guitar playing that started to sound like Wonderwall accompanying him in his work.

#les miserables #grantaire #enjolras #enjoltaire #same prompt fic challenge #fluff #just fluff #so much fluff #to be continued

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despair-tummy · 5 years ago

Note

if you're still open for requests, maybe syo feeding a really fat byakuya?

Sure, ngl Bya.kuya is fun to write.

[[MORE]]

A Togami was supposed to be the very definition of perfection. Intelligent, sharp, witty, in top physical condition and health, skillful, resourceful and powerful. Byakuya prided himself on not only being the current head of the Togami’s ever-expanding empire but also the youngest male to ever win. He competed against his siblings from his father’s various mistresses and came out on top. Earning his place in the world by meeting and going above and beyond with each expectation placed before him. Indeed, Byakuya Togami was the very definition of what a Togami should be in all aspects...

Well, maybe he was struggling in one aspect more than he would like to admit. It wasn’t intentional, not in the slightest. He couldn’t exactly pinpoint where it started to slip from his hands, but somewhere along the line, he lost control.

It crept up on him, slowly. He was naive and didn’t see it at first, and when he did he refused to acknowledge it. Because acknowledging its existence would mean accepting the fact he was getting fat. That little flab of extra softness on his middle was hardly as concerning as the mystery shrouding the depths of this academy. And his blazer could easily hide it safely from everyone’s view. He was so confident in himself that the little extra weight would go away if he cut back on eating.

Granted, it would have if actually cut back on snacking so unnecessarily. But it was a shameful moment of weakness on his part, to give in to such overindulgence. But as much as he hated to admit it, every man had his weakness. His came in the form of chocolate cake.

It was bad enough Toko and her disgusting lack of hygiene stalked him to such annoying lengths, but her split personality was just as bad, if not worse. Byakuya believed himself to be unbreakable when it came to willpower, but in reality, he was like a block of ice. You wait long enough and it would melt.

If Toko was persistent in following him around like a puppy, Syo took that to new extremes. But much to everyone’s surprise including his own, Syo could be reasoned with. Despite being a serial killer who killed men in a gruesome manner, she too had an array of hobbies aside from murdering and harassing him. Though Syo being as unexpected as she was, she had a completely unexpected hobby... baking.

It would start with the serial killer harassing him with a slice of chocolate cake she made just for him. He refused, many times. But once Syo promised to leave him alone for the rest of the day he begrudgingly gave in. Much to his relief, the cake slice was free from hair, blood or anything else from her horrible smelling body. And to his surprise, the taste wasn’t awful. It certainly didn’t compare to the cakes his personal chefs could make, but it could pass as eatable and wasn’t as dreadful tasting as he originally thought it was going to be.

Sure enough, it became a daily thing, Syo would offer to leave him alone in exchange he had to eat whatever she baked. It didn’t take long for that little extra weight to appear, and for him to spiral out of control from there.

That small pudge just got bigger, and it wasn’t just his midsection that fell victim to the extra weight. One slice of cake eventually grew into two slices, and soon three slices, it wasn’t long before he was basically eating a whole cake a day. And sure enough, his weight skyrocketed.

The floor creaked underneath his feet with every step he took, he tried his hardest not to pant. He was the current head of the Togami cooperation, simply walking from his dorm to the dining room shouldn’t make him winded! But the sweat that dripped from his round face and soaked underarms begged to differ. Every step he took was a struggle given the massive amount of pillowy fat that hung off his legs and uncomfortably rubbed together with each step, making his feet look comically small in comparison.

But it wasn’t just his bottom half that had underwent such a change, the upper half of his body wasn’t faring much better. His stomach hung and sagged, peeking out from under his shirt just enough to expose his navel. It was embarrassing enough having to request Monokuma provide him with attire that fitted before, but he found himself having to do so regularly.

Then there were his arms, they were offering less and less useful as they grew so thick with fat that it hung, resembling a flying squirrel in flight with its sagging skin as oppose to human arms.

His face, rounder from all the weight he piled on and there was that double chin he was sporting. He was far from the slender and intimidating heir that first entered Hope’s Peak Academy, that Byakuya was long gone. Buried in hundreds of pounds of excess weight somewhere, all that remained was his usual cold and to the point demeanour... well, at least that was demeanour he tried to keep. It was hard to appear professional and collective when a button popped off from his already skin-tight suit or when he was out of breath from walking short distances.

He quickly dabbed the sweat off his forehead with the cloth he used to clean his glasses. There, hopefully, he would manage to look someone presentable, like the old Byakuya Togami did a few hundred pounds ago.

He straightened his back, despite the fact it caused the white dress shirt he wore underneath to ride up and expose his pale midsection. But a Togami never slouched, not in the history of his family line. And Byakuya didn’t intend to be the first.

After taking a deep breath, he opened the door. He was the last to arrive, one because he never cared for the morning meetings Kiyotaka tried to get them all to attend. And secondly, it was difficult to get the motivation to walk these days.

“Maaaaster~!” the ever so dreadfully familiar voice of Genocider Syo said in a sickeningly sweet sing-song manner.

There in the middle of the dining hall was Syo, waving him over along to the table which was packed with multiple desserts. He tried his hardest not to show his exhaustion, but the sweat dripping down from his fat redden face was a dead giveaway.

“I got your seat all ready too.” Syo grinned, gesturing to the row that consisted of three seats. Yup, you heard that correctly. It took three chairs for him to be able to sit comfortably.

He remained silent, trying to ignore the gazes collectively on him from the others. He huffed and sat down, all three chairs giving a less than subtle creak as his massively round rear settled into the chairs.

“I woke up extra early to make all of this for yoooou.” Syo sang, tying a napkin around his neck, a miracle he even still had one at this point. “The more you eat, the more time I get to spend with you before I got to go.” she crackled, setting a bowl of chocolate mousse before him. “Now open up,” she used a spoon to scoop a hefty spoonful of mousse.

Normally he would have protested to eating so much, and especially to Syo spoon-feeding him. But that was ages ago, he regretfully became accustomed to this. As well as everyone else, the odd stares from the other students grew fewer and fewer as time went on as they got used to this odd display, but they didn’t completely stop and Byakuya doubted they ever will.

“The things I do for peace and quiet...” Byakuya muttered to himself and allowed Syo to feed him the spoonful with great reluctance.

Sure he could opt for her to feed him somewhere more private, but Byakuya didn’t even want to think of all the crude things Syo were to say if he ate like this with her privately.

An empty bowl later she presented him with a plate full of chocolate truffles. Despite eating an absurd amount of mousse, his stomach let out a barbaric grumble, signalling it wanted more. Much to Byakuya’s embarrassment, eating so much was one thing, but actually craving it was another.

“Don’t worry, I made more than enough!” Syo crackled, popping a few in his mouth following by giving his stomach a pat.

As soon as his teeth broke into the truffles his mouth was coated in a sickeningly sweet layer of milk, dark and white chocolate.

He forced himself to swallow, sure enough, another handful of truffles and another explosion of chocolate in his mouth, and repeat.

Two dishes down, countless more to go. Next up was the one that started this snowballing, chocolate cake. Though instead of single slices like it was the first time, as of late it was whole cakes.

“Open wide,” Syo grinned, bringing a forkful to his lips.

It was a miracle he wasn’t sick of chocolate cake yet or anything chocolate related for that matter. It wasn’t long until the cake was reduced to nothing but a few crumbs.

“Are we done yet?” Byakuya asked, trying and failing to stifle a burp.

Syo just gave one of her deranged laughs before setting a plate before him. Byakuya guessed he was going to be here a while before he eventually got some peace and quiet. Donuts, cupcakes, ice cream, pudding, cookies and everything else you could think of were fed to him, all chocolate flavoured of course to stay with the theme.

The desserts disappeared and were replaced with towers of empty plates stacked on top of each other. As the last chocolate-filled pastry passed his lips, even he didn’t Have enough dignity to hold back a full burp as he leaned back in his seat. His already doughy and wide stomach was extra taut from the sheer amount of food. His suit was already clinging to him tightly like a second skin, but now it seemed to almost magically cling tighter, bringing even more attention to the collection of rolls of fat he had. Making him look more like an overstuffed sausage than a refined man.

He panted, finding himself almost as exhausted as he was when he walked up the flights of stairs to get to the library.

“There, I...I finished your baking.” Byakuya spoke, unable to help but put a hand on his swollen gut and tried to rub the ache of fullness away. “You know the deal, now leave.”

“Awwwww, but master, I have a another course just waiting for you in the kitchen. I couldn’t fit it all on the table.” she poked his soft yet somewhat hard stomach. “Though... if you rather spend the day with little old me, we could-“

“Bring on the second course!” Byakuya answered immediately.

“As you wish.” Syo grinned, happily skipping off to fill the table with dishes of sweets yet again.

#stuffed ronpa #fat kink #weight gain kink #stuffing kink #my fics

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masumaimuna · 4 years ago

Text

8 Ways To Increase Thinking Capacity Of Your Brain

By Patrick Banks

•Posted 1 year ago•GROWTH

George Bernard once said, “Few people think more than two or three times a year; I have made an international reputation for myself by thinking once or twice a week.” Scientifically, this is technically impossible but morally then we can be quick to judge.

Perhaps the most complicated and greatest asset a human being can have is the processing power between your ears. This in mind, investing in this supercomputer is the greatest gift you can give yourself.

Amazingly, scientists think that the average humans only use 10% of their brain! Very few of us take time or allocate resources to train our brains. Neuroscientists believe that we are stuck with the same brain we were born with!

The good news is that you don’t need to be a billionaire to improve memory or your thinking capacity. Think of your brain as a muscle that needs to be exercised. All you need to do is dedicate some few minutes every day to do some exercises.

Here are 8 easy ways you can increase your brain power and improve your thinking capacity

1. Exercise regularly

Just as you take time to do some physical exercises, you should allocate time to do some mind exercises. Mind exercises improve mind fitness just the same way physical exercises improves physical fitness. Neurologists have proven that regular exercises of the brain enhances brain functioning and improves neurogenesis. Physical exercises have also been linked to the formation of new brain cells and thus you should stay physically active too.

2. Train your memory

If you don’t use your brain, it will stagnate. If you want your dog to be a better fetcher, you must train or get it trained to fetch. Likewise, if you need you brain to be better; you must train your mind to retain memory. Discipline yourself to memorize phone numbers and other essential numbers (passport, credit card, insurance, driving license). The more you add to your brain, the more you expand its capacity!

3. Question facts and think positive

Don’t take everything at face value. Develop a habit of questioning everyday things. Ask yourself the “what if questions”. What if we didn’t invent the wheel? What if the continents moved? By being curious, you train your mind to be innovative and develop ideas. They say curiosity killed the cat, but they don’t tell you that the same curiosity created electricity.

Neuroscientists, have linked anxiety and stress to the killing of brain neurons and also hamper new neurons being created. Psychologist have found out that positive thinking, especially in the future, boosts the production of new cells and dramatically controls stress and reduces anxiety.

Free your mind from anything which is not right here and right now. Staying mindful and in a present REALITY is the healthiest thing you can do to your brain. I don’t mean the virtual reality or social media reality but the REAL reality.

As a result, you stop expecting too much from other people, which gives you the chance to truly enjoy their company and spend some quality time together. It also leads to finding contentment and peace. Happiness, after all, can’t be found anywhere else, but in the present. So without trying to make things perfect, to change anything about the current situation, or to wish for something that sounds better, you can enjoy what is by truly accepting it.

5. Nourish your brain with a healthy diet

The food you eat is, without doubt, a big contribution to proper brain functioning. The human brain consumes over 20% of all the oxygen and nutrients that we consume! Feed your brain with good stuff like fresh fruit and vegetables and plenty of Omega 3 oils. You can read more about how to boost your brain health with Mediterranean diet.

6. Read! Read! Read!

Reading not only relieves tension and stress to the brain-cells but it also gives you another perspective on things. Books are the best way to grow your brain and expand your thinking, but social media and magazines are a good source of humor and everything that can’t fit into a book. Reading is the best way to train your brain and expand your thinking. Read books which are not only fun but also expand your knowledge. Check out our selection of top must read science books.

7. Get enough sleep

Sleeps is the reset button for the brain. When you sleep, your body regenerates brain cells and does all the maintenance work on both your body and your brain. A daily dose of 4-6 hours of sleep every night has proven the best way to improve thinking and create new ideas and innovations.

Mindfulness meditation before falling asleep can be really helpful. Close your eyes and ignore everything around you. Imagine you’re at a peaceful place. Breathe deeply and empty your mind. Focus on your breathing for a while until you relax your body and mind.

Know you’ve done your best for the day, and that tomorrow comes with many new opportunities. Be positive about what’s to come. If these are the last thoughts in your head before you fall asleep, then you’ll be in peace and won’t have nightmares.

Once you’ve slept enough and sound, be sure that tomorrow morning you’ll not only kickstart the day, but be super productive, present for the whole day and in a pretty good mood and able to focus effortlessly.

7. Eliminate Errors in Thinking

It is important to know the psychological side of thinking. Your brain prowess aside, we all make thinking errors. There are five different errors that psychologists have identified; Partialism, Adversary Thinking, Time Scale Error, Initial Judgment and arrogance and Conceit.

Partialism – Errors that occur when the individual observes the problem through ones perspective only. That is, an individual examines only one factor of the problem and most often than not, we arrive at a premature solution.

Adversary Thinking – This is the “you are the one who is wrong and thus I should be right.” type of thinking. Politicians are the masters in this type of thinking and they use it to their advantage.

Time Scale Error – This is a kind of partialism in thinking where the individual sees the problem from a limited time-frame. It can be likened to short-sightedness.

Initial Judgment- Here, the individual becomes very subjective. Instead of considering the issue or problem objectively, the individual approaches it with prejudice or bias.

Arrogance and Conceit- may also be referred to as the “Village Venus Effect” because like country people, who think that the hottest girl in their village is the hottest girl in the world, the thinker believes that there is no better solution other than that he has already found. This blocks creativity.

If you want a shortcut in your efforts in boosting the thinking capacity of your brain…

8. Try Nootropics – the silicon valley secret to enhance brain functioning

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sub4bondage86 · 4 years ago

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(Stories found on Slaveboys - amupfurit)

I sit here writing this wearing white Adidas trackie bottoms, white McKenzie T-Shirt, Air Max Cap and Lacoste trainers, smoking, with a chastity cage on and a large black butt plug lodged firmly up my ass.. Ned-Slave Well, where do I start? I’m Dan, 20 years old from Glasgow in Scotland, kinda tall at 6ft, got dark hair and eyes and a great body, if I do say so myself! I was considered a bit of a scally, or Ned as they’re called in Scotland, always walking about with trackies, Lacoste trainers and a fag in my mouth. I got on well with my pals, all lads, proper lads, we got wrecked every weekend and ended up doing shit that really wasn’t cool; vandalism, happy slapping, etc. Sex talk didn’t really come up in day to day conversation with the lads, sometimes our pack leader, Jamie, would tell us of the bitches he had taken over the week and the others would all act impressed and cheer him on whereas I just smiled and lit up a fag or kept myself distracted to not look like the pussy I was... I’ve been into kink for a while now, looking on various websites to get my kicks out of other ‘slaves’ being used and abused, thinking to myself how great it would be to be put in bondage, even for just a little while. From my mid-teens I found myself looking less and less at girl porn, and more at guy porn, but I had fooled around with girls in the past and have had my fair share of pussy mostly just to keep the guys impressed and to stop the torrent of abuse the other guys who seemed to never get any action got. I had convinced myself I wasn’t ‘gay’ but I knew that I needed to be dominated by another man. I had looked and tried to get hard at Femdom stuff, but it just wasn’t for me, I couldn’t see me being used by a woman and from what I had seen most of them seemed pretty desperate, but I guess I didn’t look too hard cause I knew deep down that only a man could make me feel the way I needed to feel! It was my secret taboo and no one could find out, regularly deleting all my history and cookies, making sure there was no way my older brother Cameron could see, even if he did manage to log on as me. Cameron was not only my older brother, but my guardian as our parents had left some time ago, and despite being in and out of homes, Cameron took me in as soon as he could and we set up home together, 2 brothers having a great lads time in Glasgow. The house really was the party central in town, with mine’s and Cammie’s pals coming round most weekends for a good ol’ booze up. One weekend, a good few months ago Cameron was away at his girlfriend’s house, so I took this as prime time to have a major wank session while browsing the internet, trying to find a master or someone kinky to go on cam with. I’d told all my pals I was away with Cammie for the weekend, so had from Friday morning til Monday night to myself and man, was I looking forward to it! I finished work at the builders at 3 and went straight back to the house, sat down at the computer with a bottle of beer and a pack of fags to see me through the night. I found a website and quickly made a profile to see what it had on it. Wow. It was awesome. I didn’t realise there were as many guys out there into the same stuff. Some of it was pretty wierd for me though, guys pissing on each other and stuff like that I could never find a turn on. I read some of the forum messages, and man was there some horny stuff. I quickly had a look to see who was online and messaged a guy quite local to me in Glasgow... “Awryte man, nice pics, wud luv 2 get sum action wi u!” I clicked Send, and for some reason I was nervous. It was the fucking internet! He didn’t know anything about me apart from what was on my bare profile, age and location! Why the hell was I nervous. I got a reply quickly. “Boy, you will call me Sir from now on, I am not ‘man’ or ‘m8’, I am Master and you will treat me accordingly. Now boy, do you have a way for us to chat like MSN? If so, I want you to send me your user name immediately.” I got an instant boner when I read that, this hot sounding 25 year old with great pictures was telling me to send my MSN username to him. I lit up a fag and had a quick look around the site before another message popped up “Boy, I don’t take time wasters lying down, either message me your MSN now or never contact me again”. I kinda laughed but thought what the hell and sent him my e-mail address and waited. Just after I put out my first smoke I was messaged on MSN by ‘Master T’: “So boy, why haven’t I seen you on here before?” I explained to him I was new to this and was having a look around to see what I was interested in and maybe have a wank over cam. I explained that I was straight but was curious to find out more about this lifestyle and so far I was pretty turned on. “Very good, a newbie boi for me to break in! U look good boi...” I shat myself, how the hell did he know what I looked like? I started looking around me to see if there was someone looking or any hidden cameras like on the TV shows. I messages him back “LOL man, how the hell u know if I look good? “BOI, U will address me as Sir or master, and Mr Ford, I know everything” By now I was freaked out, he knew apparently what I looked like, but hell.. He knew my surname! I lost the horn and was shaking a little, wondering how this pervert had found out my sir name without me telling it to him. “Sir how do you know my surname? Please tell me or I’ll block you and that’s it!” There was no reply for a good 5 minutes, I was sweating and was swithering on blocking him and hoping it was a really good bluff! He replied and I just about jumped out my seat... Not only did he know who I was, but he had access to all the lads and my pals! “Facebook boi!” Shit what an idiot I had been, I had given him my real e-mail address which I used for everything, Insta, Twitter, facebook! Everything! I didn’t reply, I was shitting myself, what if this guy was going to out me in one go to all my pals? What if he was going to harass me or contact my brother!

“Well boi, get on cam, I want to see my new boi live! Don’t worry, if you please your new master, no one will ever find out. Trust me boy, Im not an old perv, I’ll show you my cam too.” Somehow, this eased my nerves a little. This guy probably didn’t want to be found out either and what the hell, if he did try anything I would just get the police involved. I clicked the send camera button and within a few seconds he sent his and my, oh my, he was stunning. He was muscled, with blonde hair and great blue eyes, he had a cool tribal tattoo similar to mine on his arm and both his nipples were shining with the little silver rings hanging through them. I got hard again and told him he was amazing looking. He looked like an Abercrombie model, only with a wild streak! “Good boi, now, tell ur master what you are into!” I told him I had been looking around the site and loved the look of cages and collars, even the handcuffs and masks looked horny. I explained I wasn't into getting fucked and I wouldn’t suck another dude’s dick for anything. I lit up another fag and told him a bit more about me and asked him what he liked and what he has done in the past. “Boi, I love getting wee ned fuckers like you all chained up and doing things to them beyond their wildest imaginations. Do you have any gear boi?” I asked what gear was, to me it was dope, but how wrong I was... He asked if I had any toys, anal toys! Any handcuffs or tape? I explained I really was new to this and only had handcuffs on once before, and that was after being in a fight on Argyle Street! I was still hard as a rock, sitting here like a faggot looking at this hot guy talking to me about dildos and things called butt plugs. He told me he had to go for an hour, but to research about kink and hopefully open my mind to the things he was going to do to me. I was wanking slightly and he said not wank or touch my cock before he came back. I said OK and started doing my homework for this amazing guy! I started looking around the site some more, reading the forums and trying to find out more about this new found fetish of mine. I read about loads of positions, different gear that guys use and looked at more photos of guys chained up with their cracks’ stuffed with dildos and these plug things. I googled most of the gear and found some sites that sold stuff and man, I didn’t realise there was so much and so many sites that sold them, it was amazing. I found it hard not to touch my dick which was tenting up through my trackie bottoms but just kept lighting up fag after fag to keep my mind (and hands) off my cock. Messenger popped up again, “Well boi Dan, how’s the research coming along?” “Hi Sir, Done loadsa lookin aboot n its aw fuckin horny stuff. Here, u got ne of it?” Master T replied instantly, “More than you could ever realise boi, and you are going to get to try it all out! Now get back on cam!” I quickly turned the camera on as I lit up another fag, shit, I only had 5 left, I wasn’t going to be able to make it through the night chatting to this stud with 5 fags! “Boi, smoke that cig quick, inhale each and every drag well, stand up, then strip. In that order. Go!” I puffed as quick as I could pulled the smokey goodness into my lungs, stubbed it out, stood up and stripped quicker than I ever had before. Fuck, what the hell was I doing? Stripping to another bro on a webcam, it seemed so fucking wierd but man I was as horny as hell and with my dick pointing straight up, I quickly realised he knew I was horny too. I typed to him, still standing, leaning over the keyboard, “ Like wot u see man” then quickly changed man to Sir! before hitting enter. “Yes boi, but it will be better to see you in real life. When are you free for me to train you up real good?” I asked him how he meant by train and he referred me to some of the pictures on the site and on another site while explaining that soon, very soon, I would be his trained cock slave. Reading what he said and looking at the pictures only made me hornier and my twitching cock gave it away. “We’ll need to get that greedy cock locked away too boi, can’t have my boys wanking without Sir’s direct permission...” I laughed out loud thinking it was a joke and Master T clearly saw this on cam. “That was NOT a joke boi, I have a CB-6000 waiting for you and you WILL be locked up until I say otherwise. Kneel down.” In my complete ignorance I asked what a CB-6000 thing was and kneeled on the floor in-front of the computer. I was still horny as hell even although this guy had managed to find out everything about me in not such a long period of time and have me do what he wants without him actually forcing me to. He replied saying I must not have done my homework well enough and not to worry cause I would be having it on very soon! He asked once again when I was free to come over. I quickly said, stupidly, that I was free all weekend.

“Excellent boi, I will be training you!” I started rubbing my dick again, hoping he wouldn’t see. Man I was horny, but I was nervous as hell about talking about this training. Over the past few hours I had learned so much and truly realised how much it got me horny. “Leave your dick alone boi, you will be punished! What’s your phone number?” I read his comment and instantly let go of my dick, this guy really did have power over me, and he didn’t even need to remind me that he could out me instantly if he wanted, but it didn’t bother me. I wanted, for some stupid fucking reason to let this guy tell me what to do and make me do it. “Eh sir, I dunno if I wanna give oot ma number the now” “OK boi, thats fine, who do you want me to tell that ur a little bitch to a man first?” I got nervous again and changed my mind, its only a number, I could change it if things got wierd and I wanted to call it off. I sent him my mobile number and started staring at my phone, excited and nervous about him calling or texting me. “Good boi! Now, I am going to phone you, you are going to pick up and we are going to discuss what time you are to meet me and what I want you do to beforehand.” “Awrite sir, no bother!” The phone rang and despite me knowing it was coming I just about jumped up with the fright, my heart was racing as I went to pick it up “Private Number”. “Good boi” His voice was gruff but soothing at the same time. “Now, while on cam, stand up and turn around, bend over and spread your crack for me to see whats now mine!” I didn’t say a word but did exactly as he wanted. He told me again I was a good boi, this pleased me more than I expected and was still hard as a rock. He told me what to do before meeting him and we talked about where I was in relation to him in Glasgow. Turned out he was only 5 minutes by car away from the centre so I could meet him in town and go back to his with him. “Boi, I want you to go to a sex shop and buy the following items, a large butt plug, lubricant, and a vibrating cock ring” “Yes Sir” I replied, thinking where the nearest sex shop was. He hung up and told me on messenger to turn off my cam and get going, and that he would text me further details. I lit up another fag as the first text came through: put your trackies back on, make sure u r as neddy as possible and get going. I finished my fag and replied Yes Sir, just leaving the house. I went on google after I got dressed and found a gay sex shop not too far from me and the city centre and found out how to go there. I was nervous, yet horny as hell. I left the house, wearing my tracksuit, a white cap, reebok classics, with only my fags, lighter, phone, keys and wallet on me... I walked round to the city centre, took ten minutes and started having second thoughts, man this guy could fuck me or make me suck his dick, eugh! I was into the domination, but wasn’t so keen on getting my arse violated. I made my way to the sex shop, looking all around me to make sure there was no cunt I new about before entering the shop. I was blushing and just about jumped out my skin when the shop helper offered me some help. “Eh, erm, aye man, just gettin some stuff for me n ma burd tae use! She’s into this kinky stuff like!” He sniggered, and clearly new my ‘burd’ was a man. I was red as a post box and started getting hard, I hoped he wouldn’t notice, but my bulge was clear through my CKs and white trackie bottoms. I pointed out a plug, and a cock ring with a vibrating egg attached and got some lube. He packed it all and I paid in cash to be discreet as possible. I walked out the shed as coy as possible with my cap pulled down and face down so not to be seen. I looked at the bag, SHIT! There was a muscled man’s silhouette on the bag! I had to walk with this bag, trying to keep with to side streets to try and avoid people. I felt my phone buzzing in my pocket, a text... “Now boi I assume you have made your purchases, I wont be meeting you in town so head to Central Station and get the train to Bridgeton, but first, stop in the toilet and remove your pants and dispose of them. If they are on when you get here, you will be punished. Text me back when they’re off.”

Holy fuck! This guy was serious and I didn’t seem to have a chance to meet him before going to his, plus I had to walk along one of the busiest streets to get the train. I was going to get on at another stop closer to me, but realised there was no bogs and nowhere to take off my knickers. I started walking briskly towards the station with my head hung low and lit up a fag. Shit, last one! I nipped into a wee shop on the way and got some, fuck there was some wee neds in the shop doing the same thing. I waited behind them in the queue while they bought their cigs and then got mine, not before one of them pointed at my bag and started laughing and telling his mates what it was. I was so embarrassed, even the shop keeper was sniggering as he handed me over my 40 fags and change. I left the shop and headed to the station, lighting up yet another fag en route to calm my nerves. When I got to the station I saw the train was leaving in 6 minutes, so quickly went to the toilets, locked myself in a cubicle and took my pants off. I thought about putting them in my bag for later, but realised I might be caught by Master T and though otherwise. I walked out the toilet and dumped my underwear in a bin before jumping on the train just before it pulled away. My phone buzzed again, this time a picture message. It was him, Master T, completely naked with handcuffs in his hand, the message read, Im just leaving for the station, you better get on a train soon. I replied instantly, just on the train Sir, be there in 5 mins. I started getting hard again, the train was busy and I had to stand, fuck! I was aware of people staring at me, my bag and now, my raging hard-on poking up through my nylon trackies. Nervous as I was, thinking of this meeting with a guy I barely knew for my first male-male experience was turning me on so much! The train announcer came over the tannoy: Next Stop, Bridgeton. My stop. My stomach was churning, my head was spinning and I was bright red with embarrassment but I knew I couldn’t turn back now, he would probably be waiting for me at the train as I got off. The next two minutes seemed to take an age to go by, then finally, the train stopped and I was at Bridgeton. For those of you who don’t know, Bridgeton isn’t the nicest part of Glasgow, its full of other neds like me, but harder, with teeth missing and shit like that, I wasn’t too comfortable with getting off with this hard on and bag in hand, but I did as I needed and stepped out into the cold air. I looked around and fortunately there was no one around, including Master T. I text him saying that I had arrived and asked what he was wearing to help me identify him. I never got a text back for a couple of minutes, I started worrying that he wasn’t going to come and I would have to make my embarrassing journey back to my house, underwear-less and horny. Then, a blue Audi RS4 pulled up beside me and I saw him for the first time in the flesh, he rolled the window down and shouted, get in the back boi, now!

I opened the door and climbed in, sitting opposite him in the back of the car. It smelled of smoke, leather and male musk, “Hi boi, glad to see you didn’t ditch on me like the other fuckwits I have had try it with me.” I laughed nevously, “Yeah man, eh, Sir! Nice motor!” He reminded me that I was to call him Sir, or Master T all times and I would be punished if I didn’t. I was still horny as hell, but worried about my fate. This guy could kill me for all he wanted and there would be little anyone could find out, I had deleted all my history. My mind was racing but deep down I knew he was all right. The guy was stunning, even better in real life. I kept staring at his face as he told me the journey was short, but he wanted to examine me before we went to his place so we were going to a deserted industrial area for him to check me out. He threw back a pair of handcuffs, proper police ones with the black plastic mould in the middle so they couldn’t be moved. “Put them on, tight!” I did as he said and was now trapped in his car with my hands cuffed between the seatbelt strap. I couldn’t get out if I wanted, not that I did. This was the horniest thing I had ever done. We drove in silence for 10 minutes, I wanted to ask him so many questions but he had told me not to speak without permission. Finally we pulled up outside a warehouse and he leaned back to undo my cuffs after pulled my trackies down over my knees. “Good lad, you followed my orders, my, my your a big boy!” I laughed again, trying to hide my embarrassment. He ordered me out the car, and told me to recuff behind me back, with my trackies lying at my ankles. I hobbled out and stood there in all my glory half naked. He revved the engine and moved the car off, I panicked and started hobbling towards the moving car, falling flat on my face, with no hands to stop my fall. I picked myself up, glad to see the car had stopped and saw him laughing at my trip. Master T climbed out the car with a cigarette behind his ear. “Thanks for the toys and smokes boi, all mine now!”. I spoke up, “Can a have a smoke please Sir?” “ I told you not to speak without permission boi! But as you are new to this and you asked so politely, you may” He pulled out my smokes and put one in his mouth and one in mine before lighting them both. I didn’t have free hands, so had to dangle my cig in my mouth while he walked around me checking me out, occasionally slapping my ass and feeling my abs. I was quite uncomfortable with him touching me, but my dick was more than happy. After he had thoroughly checked my body out he stepped back and nodded, taking a deep drag of his fag. “You’ll do boi!”. I felt so degraded and used, and I had a niggling feeling this was only the start. I finished dragging on my fag and spat it out. He commanded me back to the back of the car and opened the boot, “Get it, now!”. I stammered, “eh, whit?!!” Smack! He had hit slapped me hard on the side of my face. I was stunned, I must have started weeping. “Fucking pussy, get in the boot”. I whimpered, “Yes Sir” and tried to throw my self into the boot, which luckily for me had a blanket to land on. He grabbed my legs and tucked them in, “It’s only going to be a 5 minute drive boi, stop greeting and get a grip, you’re about to have the best weekend of your life, and so am I!” I felt comforted by his words and pulled myself together as the boot lid shut, the engine started and I lay there as the car was pulling away. I was scared, but excited. I had the biggest boner I had ever had and I was looking forward to jerking off when I got the chance, with my hands cuffed still behind my back it wasn’t possible and with it being so dark and confined I couldn’t manoeuvre them to my front to have a fondle. For the duration of the journey I just kept quiet lying in the boot, not quite sure what to think. I was awestruck by his attitude, demeanour and sheer manliness. After what seemed like a good hour (probably only 15 minutes), the car stopped and I breathed a sigh of relief. We were here, wherever here was. The boot was flung open and Master T lifted me out the boot. He quickly slung a blindfold over my face before I got a chance to take in my surroundings, which seemed like a generic housing estate. He grabbed my cock and started walking me to what I assumed was his house. I was strangely at ease for a man to be holding my cock, nay; I was aroused even more by it. I heard a door open and I carefully stepped up into the room.

“Welcome to my humble abode boi” Master said “Now, kneel down and open your mouth.” I did as he said as he closed the door, and I heard multiple locks turning. I opened my mouth and felt something hard, like a small tennis ball being shoved in my gob and something being strapped behind my neck. After some fiddling, Master stepped away and I tried to push the ball out my mouth with my tongue with no avail, it must have been one of the ball gags I had seen on the site, man, I grew even more horny! Then I felt something cold round my neck, “Boi, you will wear this for the duration of the weekend, and even longer if I feel it needs to be worn in public.” I heard a lock and realised I had been collared. I was now owned. “Kneel down boi”. I knelt there with a metal collar round my neck, a rubber ball gag planted firmly in my mouth, a leather blindfold on and my hands cuffed behind my back. I was as hard as a rock, but nervous to find out what was going to happen next. “Now boi, I am going to get you ready for a weekend of servitude, and fun before I release you back to your home comforts” Master T was laying out his plan, “ I don’t expect to be questioned and I don’t ever want to hear No as your first answer to any question I may ask you, of course when your gagged like that I don’t suppose you will be the conversation starter anyway.” He laughed. Master T whipped off my blindfold, the light hurt my eyes a little, but I was delighted to see him in his masculine form towering over me like a god! “Follow me boi” I went to stand up to follow him up the staircase in front, but Master T barked back “I did not give you permission to stand up slut, crawl!” I quickly jumped back down onto all 4s and struggled to ascend the stairs behind him with my hands cuffed. I must have looked some sight! Master T opened the door to the bathroom and pointed for me to go in, he instructed me to get in the bath, face up and to close my eyes. Once again, the leather blindfold was applied. Shit this was horny! Shit, is he going to drown me? I panicked and jumped up, only to be pushed back down by Master. “ Fuck sake boi, stay still, I’m not gonna kill ya! Relax, and trust me”. His manly, calm demeanour eased me a little and I sunk back into the bath. I felt his touch on my arms and the right cuff was removed. It was then clipped to the bar on the left side of the bath. “Be right back boi”. I was now cuffed to the bath unable to see or speak, and my boner was still raging. I must be sick. "Don't dare touch your cock!" I heard Master leave the room and listened some extensive fumbling around in the room next door, what the fuck was he doing in there?! I didn't touch my cock incase I got too excited and shot my load, which given my predicament wouldn't have been a good move. Finally, Master came back, I could smell cigarette smoke, damn I needed a fag! I heard metal knocking together, just lightly, and then my right arm was cuffed to the right side of the bath. Totally unable to move now! “Right boi, slave prep stage 1 begins” Master laughed, then blew some smoke in my direction. Aghh, this was torture; the smoke, the suspense, my raging boner not being touched! I felt something cold being squirted on my pubic area; I didn’t have a lot of pubes to begin with as I trimmed them down, but I knew what was coming… I was 100% right in my thoughts, he was shaving my pubes and dick, slowly and carefully, making sure there wasn’t a stray hair in sight. Laughing and coughing occasionally, he paused, presumably to take a drag from his fag and to admire his handy work. What a god!

With my pubes now as bald as the day I was born, I felt more and more horny. Damn, this guy was good! He leaned over and whispered, “we’re not done yet boi”! He lifted my blindfold and once again I could see his face, beautiful – God this guy is turning me into a right faggot. He took out both my diamond earrings, and my gold chain and bracelet; “Slaves don’t need these embellishments” apparently, “you’ll get them back when I release you”. “What do you think boi?” I strained to look down and I was truly bald, he really did take his time and make a good job. I mumbled “Amazing Sir!” and nodded. I was drooling by this stage and pretty thirsty, I was having a great time but wanted out of the cold bath soon to get a drink, a fag and a comfy seat. “Now boi, I’m gonna flip you over and do the back side”. Shit, why would he want my arse shaved?! I didn’t wanted fucked, well… I wanted to know get fucked, but it was taking it to a new level. I didn’t have a choice, so no point in protesting. He uncuffed my right arm at the bath side, and attached it to the left bar, then uncuffed the left cuff and attached it to the right side; this guy’s a pro, not letting my free at any point, whilst flipping me onto me knees face down. Once again, the shaving crème was applied and the razor was dragged across my bare arse and arse crack, slowly and carefully as before. I didn’t have much hair but he wanted to be sure, clearly! “We’re done boi, you look like a good wee slave” Master T chortled, “Best get you washed down and cleaned up before we move on to stage 2!” With that, he uncuffed my right arm and attached the cuffs together, then did the same with the left, double security! He turned me round just before I fell on my face and proceeded to take out my ball gag. Finally! My jaw was aching! “Well boi, how do you feel?” “Good Sir, cheers! I am so fuckin horny right now! I’m dying for a fag as well, Jeez Master, that was amazi…” He cut my verbal diarrhoea of whith a swift slap on the face “Shut up boi, your mumbling away like you’ve just discovered speech, but I am glad your having fun. Now, you thirsty?” “Aye Sir, im parched with drooling so much, please can I have a drink n a fag?” “Very well boi, I’ll get you a drink and we can have a smoke when we’re downstairs” He put my blindfold on, and there was silence, then I heard a zipper open “Open your mouth boi, I’ve got you a drink” He then started pissing straight in my mouth, I was black affronted, I didn’t know what to do. Pissing? In my mouth? I started to choke. “Swallow boy, you’ll be supping the rest out the tub if you don’t. I swallowed, trying not to gag, taking as much in my throat as possible without having to taste it. He laughed as I coughed a little, but shit, he was pissing like a stallion. He finally finished by showering me down with his piss. He rubbed it into my bald pubic area and grunted “That’s you washed down, and watered, lets get you cleaned up!”

I was totally turned off by this, my cock finally subsided and I was speechless. How could someone piss on me? Master T totally freaked me out, but he didn’t seem to think anything of it! Are people into this? What the fuck?! “What’s the matter lad, not like golden showers?” He laughed “Stay still til I clean you up”. He started the shower, shit it was cold! It soon warmed up and Master T rubbed me down. I still had my T-Shirt on, my favourite McKenzie one, it was now pissed on and soaked. Fuck. Master T turned off the shower and helped me stand up. “Now boi, I am going to un-cuff you, I don’t want any funny business or you’ll be drinking your meals from now on!” “Yes Sir” I mumbled, shivering with the cold air. I now resented even coming, how disgusting was that?! “Out the tub, come on slut, easy does it” Sir guided me over the tub. “Stand still whilst I dry you off”. I heard the sound of metal on metal again and I felt my right leg, then left leg be cuffed with a sharp click. “Not sure I could trust you to not run away before I take off your handcuffs, so these leg irons wlll reduce you to a hobble.” He uncuffed both sets of handcuffs holding my arms together and whipped off my T-Shirt “Fuckin nice body boi, felt good earlier but it looks great all covered in Goosebumps” He said as he rubbed the towel over them. I was proud of my body, with doing manual labour I had developed strong core muscles and good pair of strong arms; still, nothing like his amazing god-like physique. Following my rough towelling off, he clicked a pair of metal cuffs back on, damn they felt sexy. My libido returned a little, hey that experience wasn't that bad. “Right boi, stage 2 is coming soon, lets get that blindfold off you and go down stairs” He said as he pointed to the floor, obviously I was to crawl again. I crawled behind Master T down the stairs and into his living room. It was really nice, but had a definite man’s touch; big telly, awesome sound system and all the gadgets you could think of. He must be quite well moneyed I thought. “Right ya cheeky little cunt, sit on the floor at my feet til I catch up on Sky Sports News, I don’t wanna hear a sound out u, so here” He handed me an ashtray and a pack of fags, “Smoke away all u like but don’t fucking dare touch your dick” I sat in front of him with my back to the chair, he put his muscular legs over my shoulders pinning my in place. After watching the match highlights and us both having a good share of smokes, he said to me that it was now time for stage 2, and I was going to enjoy what was coming next. I was already boned watching the footie highlights with him, but after saying that I was rock solid. “Stay there, be right back cunt boi”

Master T came back a couple of minutes later as I finished off another smoke, wearing nothing but a pair of army camo fand boots, damn his body was amazing, I must have dropped my jaw as I saw him. “Haha boi, like what you see?” He said getting even closer. His nipple rings glistened in the light, highlighting his perfect torso, I was so aroused. “Crawl over here bitch” he beckoned as he sat down on the sofa across the room, “Lick my fucking boots clean” I don’t know what came over me but I went for them like a hungry dog, slurping and licking them all over, left then right foot then back again. “Nice work boi, I see you like my boots. C’mon upstairs”. He jogged up the stairs in front of me crawling, trying to keep pace, I tripped over on the stairs planting my face on the carpet “Ah ya fucker” I yelped. Slap. He leaned down, “I said, don’t say a fucking word earlier and I meant it, speak when spoken to, hurry up”. His verbal abuse just got me hornier, my dick was just about hitting off the stairs as I crawled to the top. I crawled after him into a room next to the bathroom where I had been shaved bald earlier, this was definitely not a bedroom, it was like a medieval torture room. Metal chains, a sling, numerous whips and paddles, wow. There were evil looking metal stocks and things I had no idea what they did, this was too horny. What kind of weirdo was I turning into, getting off on all this stuff I had only glimpsed at online?! “Right boi, stage 2 begins. Over here” He bellowed in a deep, sexy voice, pointing at the stocks. I crawled over to him standing at the stocks and looked into his eyes, for even a hint of what was coming next. “Stay” he said as he walked over, took a key out and locked the door. They key was returned to his pocked and he came back to me. “I’m going to unlock you and get you dressed in my favourite gear, seen as you have been so compliant.” I took this as a compliment and smiled, favourite gear? I wonder…

Master T reached down and unlocked my handcuffs and leg irons with care and speed, he reminded me not to say a word and do as I was “fucking told, or else”. I was completely at ease now, despite still being in a compromised situation, but I trusted him. His demeanour and attitude was so manly and powerful, yet it seemed he cared for me. He went over to a closet in the corner and rummaged around for what was presumably his favourite gear. After some time, apparently ensuring he got the right image, he shouted for me to close my eyes before being presented with my outfit. I closed my eyes and waited with baited breath for my outfit. “Right boi, open your eyes” Master whispered in my ear. I opened my eyes and saw some horny stuff… Firstly there was a leather upper body cross harness with a shiny metal cock ring, like I had seen online that afternoon, then a pair of leather shorts, then a chain with a clip on each end and finally a rubber gas mask. Jeez, if I wasn’t hard already, I was rock solid now. ”Lets get you dressed, slut” Sir said. Firstly my arms were lifted up, and the harness slid over and tightened. Then, Master grabbed my cock and slid the cock ring over to the base and popped my balls through. Master told me to lie on my back, then lifted my legs to slid on the shorts, “Boi, these aren’t any normal shorts, these are chastity shorts, just to make sure you don’t get off when I’m not looking”. He tightened them and added some padlocks. Total lockdown! “Right now boi, lets get you restrained for some training”… Master T led me behind the metal stocks and opened them up “You know what to do”. I put my wrists and neck in the recessions in the metal, the ‘lid’ was brought down and a big metal padlock was added. My legs were then restrained with cold metal shackles. Now it was complete and total lockdown, I wasn’t going anywhere. After stepping back to admire his work, Master T came back over to me and smiled “Want a fag?” He kneeled down on one knee in front of me and lit up a cigarette, blowing the smoke on my face, gawd did I want a smoke! He smoked most of it, teasing my by holding the filter near my mouth but not close enough for me to get a toke. Finally I got a good hit and exhaled. Nice. “It’s getting late boy, I had better get on before its time to lock you up for the night! Hows ur ass like a good ramming?” Master T enquired “Fuck off, you’re not fucking touching my ass” I stupidly blurted out. “Firstly, If I want to fuck you, I will. Secondly, don’t dare speak unless spoken to. Thirdly, you were doing so well, I guess I’ll need to punish you for refusing to accept whats coming to you”. Master T said calmly. “I am now going to have to whip your ass, which unfortunately means pulling down these chastity shorts, luckly there is no moving for you!” He unlocked the padlocks and pulled the shorts down with a sharp tug, my naked, bald ass free in the air. “Count em out slut, or we’ll see how long you last in that cage over there without a fag and only my piss for liquid!” WHACK! It took me a second to get what he meant to count them out “One, Master” WHACK “Two, Master” WHACK “Three Master”. This went on up to 15, by this point my ass was in agony and likely bright red. I was sobbing slightly, “Shut up pussy, that’s nothing” He said. What did he mean that was nothing, it was fucking torture and I couldn’t move to caress my butt.

“Right boi, that is enough for now” Master T said, “Now, lets have some fun, eh?!” Fun sounded good, anything to let me forget about the throbbing pain coming from my ass. Master T then moved to in front of me, ripped off a piece of silver duct tap & whapped it on my gob before I had a chance to protest. He repeated the strips of tape a few times over my mouth and down below my chin until he was confident I was going to be silenced. He then placed the S10 gas mask on my face and tightened the elastic straps behind my head. What a strange, horny sensation! The sound of my own breath through the mask was exciting me, my cock was rock hard swaying between my spread legs. Despite kneeling down on the floor with my legs locked down and my arms and head locked in a stockade, I was very comfortable and felt quite at home here. “Slut, now you are gagged and locked up, I want one nod for yes and 2 shakes for no, got it?” Nod. “Good boi, now, have you ever had anything up your hole?” I presumed he meant my ass-hole. Shake, shake. “Hehe, nice, did you expect to come here and get anything up your hole?” Shake shake. “Well boi, I am not going to fuck your tight little scally hole with my monster cock, I’ll rip you in half… We had better leave my cock out of there for now, agree?” Nod!! “Thought you might ‘say’ that”, haha! Well, the good news is I wont fuck you with my dick, infact tonight, I won’t even make you suck my dick, but you will be sleeping with a butt plug in, do you know what that is?” Nod. I knew exactly what they were, and I didn’t like the look of them. “Eager, I see boi!” Master T laughed as he walked towards his toy chest. After some rummaging around he came back with a handful of black rubber plugs in different sizes and shapes, some even had things hanging off them. Wow, what the hell was I doing here?! “Right boi, new game, I have the a 14cm plug in one hand and a 16.5cm plug in the other hand. I am going to shuffle then behind my back and the one you pick goes up your ass until breakfast tomorrow, ok?” Slow Nod. I saw they both had a wide girth but the larger one was less tapered at the base. “I’m going with your thumbs up to whichever hand you want” Nod. He then shuffled the plugs behind his back and asked the question, “Left, or Right?” I put up my left thumb. “Well boi… you’ve picked…

(Sadly it wasn't finished......if anyone wants to.....)

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