#and my blood sugar hadn't even started to go down

[grumpyfaceurn]

today's breakdown is brought to you by

tried to cook something new and the pan is too small and the chopping takes too long and no you don't have any onion even though you thought and everything is too lound and then things fall over and you just want to BREAK something

[geeky-politics-46]

Kinktober 2023 - Day 7

Sex Toys with Bucky Barnes

"The Gift"

Smut - Explicit content - NSFW - 18+ only!

Summary: You give Bucky a gift he never knew he wanted.

Warnings: Smut (NSFW) - 18+ ONLY - masturbation, sex toys, homemade porn, dirty talk, pet names, langcorn, reference to oral & vaginal sex, Bucky being a needy boy.

Bucky paced back and forth, trying to avoid staring at the box on the bed. His fingers pulling on his hair and biting at his bottom lip, trying to find a way to direct his attention anywhere else, but his mind kept pulling him back. The ache between his legs was beginning to throb each time he looked at the box & let his thoughts drift back to you.

You had to know what even just your innocent little texts did to him when you had been gone this long. Even just a sweet "miss you so much, Buck" sent his blood straight to his cock. It gets him thinking about how you can be all sugar sweet around everyone else then turn into such a dirty girl the minute you get to your bedroom. Hell you loved nothing more than whispering something filthy to him right before walking in a room with someone else just to get him wound up.

He had no idea what he had unleashed the first time you two started getting a little frisky. He loved how you seemed a little old fashioned when you started dating. How you made him court you made him earn each and every little kiss. By the time you two had gotten to the point of sex being a possibility, he was nervous he would scare you away by being too aggressive. Little did he know what awaited him.

He will never forget the night he found out how bad you really were. You had been dating a couple of weeks and had the compound to yourselves for an evening, so it wasn't surprising when watching a movie devolved into a hot and heavy make-out session. He tried not to let on that you had him hard as a rock. He didn't want to put any pressure on you. Then, as you were adjusting to hook your leg around him, your thigh brushed up against his erection making him moan against your lips. He hoped maybe you hadn't noticed or, at the very least, were going to pretend you didn't feel the massive bulge in his pants.

You pulled back to look in his eyes, and he looked like a deer in headlights. He was terrified you were gonna slap him or never want to see him again. He didn't expect you to let out a dark little chuckle and bite his bottom lip. You sucked his lip into your mouth, then let it go with a wet pop before licking it once. He sat frozen as you moved your lips to whisper in his ear. Your voice dropped an octave as you spoke.

"Well, well, soldier, seems like you're enjoying this, huh? Enjoying having my mouth on you. Have you thought about what else I can do with my mouth?" With that, you sucked his earlobe into your mouth, and he let out a little high-pitched squeal he didn't know he could make.

"Maybe my mouth is a bit too much for now, hmm. Don't want you to blow just yet, Buck. What about my hands? Bet you've thought of them touching you. Stroking you all over." 

As you spoke, you moved one hand up to his hair, leaving the other wrapped around his neck, keeping him close to you. Accenting the end of each sentence with the particular touch you described.

"Thought about my fingers pulling on your hair." You purred, gripping his soft, short, dark brown hair and giving it a soft tug.

"My nails scraping down your back." You gently pulled your nails in a straight line down his spine, stopping at the base of it.

"My palm sliding up and down your chest", you let your hand circle his waist and slide up under his shirt, pressing your entire hand flat to the center of his strong chest. You could feel his heart pounding. He had his eyes closed and was trying to keep his breathing steady. His nostrils flared. He didn't want to let you know how close you had him to losing all control.

You paused for a moment, lulling him into a trap to make him open his eyes. You kissed his lips softly and sweetly. Innocently. Then, after rubbing your nose against his, you pulled back to see his beautiful blue eyes. 

Like a cobra, you struck. Using the hand looped around his neck, you grabbed his hair and yanked his head back. You rose to your knees, so you were looking down at him and slowly started pulling your hand downward.

A wicked grin on your face as you dragged the next sentence out word by word. You knew you had him exactly where you wanted him.

".. and I bet that there's something else you've thought about my hands doing, isn't that right, Buck? Bet you've thought about it so much. Bet you've thought about it after every date we've had."

You could feel him inhale sharply as you touched the top of his abdomen. You slowly started to curl your fingers in, leaving just your index finger touching him.

"Maybe you've thought about it when you're in the shower..."

You felt his abs contract under your fingertip.

"I'm sure you've thought about it in bed at night too. I know I have, baby."

Your fingertip hit the top of his jeans, and just for a second, you stopped. Giving him a chance to push you off of him if he didn't want you to go any farther. When all that came from him was a little whimper, you let your fingertip continue over the button & down his fly.

"Bet you've thought about me touching you here. Thought about me touching, and rubbing, and stroking your hard cock. You feel even bigger than I imagined, baby."

After hitting the bottom of his groin with just your fingertip, you turned your hand and gripped him with your whole hand. Starting to massage his entire bulge. A loud moan escaped as he fought the urge to thrust into your hand.

He was now staring at you with his eyes wide & his mouth hanging open. What happened to the sweet shy thing who blushed when he brought you flowers? Here you were a little sexbomb on the verge of making him cum in his pants and you had only just started touching him.

From then on, you just kept surprising him with how dirty you could be. So, really, he shouldn't have been that surprised when he found the naughty little gift you left him when you went on your mission. 

It was the first time either of you had to leave since the 2 of you started dating, let alone having sex. You knew the both of you would be missing each other something bad. So the last night you were together there were lots of pics and few little videos. Bucky knew they were mostly for him. You were gonna have your hands full with the mission.

You had awoken something in him that had been asleep since before he became the Winter Soldier. He couldn't get enough of you, of your body. Of your perfect wet little pussy. He loved telling you that too. That was why you got him the gift.

It was a sex toy. A Fleshlight. 

He picked up the card and read it again:

Something to play with until you can enjoy the real thing again. I picked the one I thought looked the most like your best girl ;)

XOXO

Your best girl and your girlfriend too

He hadn't dared to open the toy yet. He wanted to, but he wasn't sure he could. His 1940s sensibilities were getting the best of him. He wasn't a prude by any means, but the idea of fucking a plastic toy designed to look like a pussy just seemed so... dirty.

Of course, that was also the appeal, wasn't it? Especially the fact that you had picked one you thought looked like your pussy. His pussy. He was curious if it really did. It was hard to tell from the outer box. 

There was no harm in taking a peek, right? You had sent him a message after you knew he had found your gift. Telling him that if he didn't want to use it or it weirded him out that he didn't have to use it or even keep it. 

He would just have a look and then put it away. Figure out his feelings a bit more before he decided what to do. He at least had to know if it did look like you. Although he would put money that it wouldn't be as perfect as yours. Nothing would ever be as perfect to him as your pussy. 

He double-checked to make sure his door was locked. Approaching the box and tentatively picking it up. He looked over the images on the outside and felt himself cringe. It felt like the naked woman on the box was judging him. She looked nothing like you and did absolutely nothing for him. He quickly unsealed and opened the box, and pulled out the toy wrapped in tissue paper. Not sure if he wanted to unwrap just the end or the whole toy. 

He decided to go right for what had him the most curious. The soft, skin colored silicone slowly coming in to view. He let the fingers of his right hand stroke the edge of the silicone. To his surprise, it did feel rather nice under his touch. Now, he was ready to reveal the toy fully. He bit his bottom lip between his teeth as he pulled away the last bit of tissue. A moan pulling deep in his throat. 

Oh fuck, it did look like your pussy. His pussy. His mouth watered and his pants immediately got tight. He couldn't tear his eyes off of it now. He let his thumb stroke over the fake clit on the toy and swore he could almost hear you shudder. Then he used his index and middle finger to trace the plump labia of the toy and momentarily stretch the hole.

He was right, it was nowhere close to as perfect as your juicy pussy, but it was much more tempting than he could ever have thought possible. He wanted to lick it like he would lick you, and he wanted to fuck it like he would fuck you. Was he really going to do this? He picked up your note and read it one more time, imagining the look on your face and the things you would say to him if you were here watching him. 

Yep. He was really going to do this. 

He quickly stuffed the paper wrapping in the box and threw the box under his bed. Pulling the blankets back on his bed and dropping the toy there. Quickly opening his nightstand and fishing for the bottle of lube. Throwing his shirt and jeans off as fast as he could before moving to lay in the very middle of the bed. That way, he could smell your pillow and pretend you were really there with him. 

The toy momentarily forgotten as he began scrolling through the various naughty photos and videos he had of you. Starting to palm and rub at his hard cock through his underwear. He could practically hear you saying how much you loved seeing him in his just his boxer briefs. You always said his cock looked incredible straining against the tight fabric. How they hugged his thighs and his ass perfectly. That you never thought a guy in his underwear could get you that wet.

Fuck you made him feel so good. He forgot all the things he hated about his body when you touched and praised him. You made him feel sexy. You made him want to show off for you. Making a very clear point of saying how all these photos and videos weren't just for him. Maybe he would send you a picture when he was done?

He stopped at a video clip where you were sitting between his legs, slowly taking off your bra and panties. Stopping to rub at him a few times or shake your tits at him. He heard his own voice telling you to pull at your nipples. His cock twitched at the moan that fell from your lips. He knew what was coming next, so he quickly set the phone down reaching for the lube and the pussy toy. 

He flipped the cap up on the lube and let some of the slick clear liquid coat the pads of his fingers just in time to hear himself tell you to take off your panties and show him your pussy. To show him his pussy and how wet you were for him. As you did exactly what he told you to in the video, he let his lube slicked fingers start to pet and stroke the outer lips of the toy. His long middle finger running a small circle around the hole, barely dipping inside before sliding back out and around. 

Once the toy was nice and slick, just like your cunt now on display in the video, he set both it and his phone down just long enough to pull his underwear off. He gasped as he felt the cool air of the room make contact with his leaking tip. He was wetter than he thought he was, clearly underestimating his own need. 

With his phone in one hand and the toy in the other, he waited until he heard his own voice in the video again. Waiting until he told you to come and rub your pretty pussy all over his cock. To get him nice and wet while you made your little pussy feel good.

The next video was a close up of his cock slotted between your pussy lips as you slid yourself back and forth against his shaft. He started to copy your motions in real time, letting the toy slide against his cock in time with your movements. A needy little moan falling from his lips when the toy caressed the ridge under the head of his cock.

His hips unexpectedly bucking a couple of times when he heard your whimpers in the video. If he closed his eyes, he would never think that it was a toy in his hand and not the real thing. It still wasn't you, nothing would ever feel as good as you, but fuck him it still felt so good. 

He couldn't hold himself back much longer, so he flicked to the video of his cock slowly sliding in and out of you cunt. He could never get over how incredible you looked stretched around his length, how his cock glistened with you slick everytime he pulled back out. Your swollen clit front and center and just begging for attention. 

He pulled his attention back to the toy in his hand. Angling it so his tip pressed against the hole of the toy. Adding just enough pressure to feel it start to stretch around his thick leaking head, just like your pussy would. A gasp pulled from his lips as the toy slowly engulfed his tip. Pulling it back up before pushing it down just a little more.

Repeating the same action over and over. Pushing down so the toy swallowed another inch of his cock, then pulling all the way up. Them pushing back down again until he had finally bottomed out. The video on his phone was momentarily forgotten. It felt incredible. So tight and snug and wet around his aching cock. 

His hips acting on their own as he started rutting into the toy. Whimpering as it seemed to suck his cock back in. He fought the urge to start frantically fucking the toy. As good as it felt, and holy fuck did it feel good, he still wanted to fantasize it was your cunt he was fucking. 

He let his eyes close again with his cock fully sheathed in the fake pussy. Quickly rolling onto his side and burying his face in your pillow as his hips started to thrust hard and fast. Moaning as your smell filled his nostrils. Replaying all the mornings you had woken up together only to have innocent spooning turn into fucking. 

Bucky let himself start to whimper little praises as if you were really there. His vibranium hand grabbed at the blankets and clamped around your pillow. Pulling them closer to him. His mind turned to mush as the toy practically sucked the life out of him. 

If he focused, he could almost hear you responding to him. Keening at both his praises and degradation. Saying filthy things right back to him.

“Fuck! Feels so good, baby. Always take my cock so fucking well. Can't wait to have you back in my arms. Can't wait to fuck you for real the second you are home. Miss you so much.”

He felt the heat of his climax building and his balls pulling tighter. Whimpering as he bit your pillow. Imagining he was biting and marking the soft, warm flesh on your neck. His flesh starting to tingle, and sweat starting to form on his brow. His hips thrusting so hard and fast the mattress was creaking. His needy groans and the wet suction of toy echoing through the room.

“Gonna cum, babydoll. Fuck, gonna cum so hard for you!” 

Bucky thought his soul might actually leave his body with how hard he came. Spurt after spurt of his warm release filling the toy. A faint thought in the back of his mind about the possibility the toy might start to overflow. 

Slowly his orgasm faded to electric aftershocks of pleasure. His breath still coming in gasps. His cock starting to soften, still nestled in the warm silicone that suddenly felt nowhere near as comforting as being inside of you. Even if it could give him an incredible orgasm, he was well aware that it wouldn't provide the loving and intimate aftercare that you always gave him. Snuggling his face into your pillow once again, he smiled as he thought about when he would get to hold you in post-coital bliss again.

When he finally caught his breath, he looked back to where he had dropped his phone earlier. The video had ended. Frozen on a closeup of your face with the most wicked smile on your face and the mischievous twinkle in your eyes, he knew so well. He wondered if you were missing him.

He hopes you are missing him, because fuck is he missing you; and your gift only  made him miss you more. He was sure he was addicted to you.

After going to shower and cleaning himself up, along with cleaning the toy, he noticed the light on his phone blinking. Reaching for it once he was settled back down in bed. Frankly, he felt exhausted after trying out your present. Flicking on the screen, he saw that there was a new text message. It was from you. It was an emoji of a smiling Devil followed only by three words.

Enjoying your gift?

--------------------------------

Back to main Kinktober 2023 masterlist

Back to main masterlist

[thenyoumightaswellwrestleangels]

I've let this wolf into my home (I feed it even when it bites)

Blood nose and a crooked tongue (I always wanted to be someone) - series masterlist here

pairing: tim drake x reader (gender neutral)

length: 1.5k

genre: fluff ??

warnings: you don't know red robin and timmy are the same person but he sure knows you, he's also so so awkward but he can't help it

a/n: alright alright alright here we go <3

The jingle of the coffee shop door opening startles you, your head snapping up from where you're sitting, slouched over in the corner. It's a 24-hour shop, yes, but who else would really be here at 3am? The barista behind the counter looks just as surprised, blinking rapidly and looking at the person who came in.

You, on the other hand, opt not to, sighing and looking back down at your table, instead. The coffee in your to-go cup is still hot, burning your fingers as you shift them over the label. It's bright, a cartoonish sort of thing that grins up at you like an old friend you should be happier to see. You've been getting this coffee for years. You're never quite as happy as you should be.

The chair opposite you makes a horrible sort of sound as it's pulled out and you look up to see who's sitting across from you. You purse your lips in annoyance while he just looks at you.

"All the other tables have just been cleaned. They're wet," he points out. You let your eyes flit around the cafe, the tabletops shining wetly in the dull glow of the lights, the disinfectant bottle still sitting abandoned on one of them.

"Lucky me," you bite back, taking a sip of your coffee. It's sweet - too sweet, but not enough to cover the bitterness of the burnt grounds. You always think that if you pile enough sugar into it, it'll mask what's wrong. You're never right.

The man sitting opposite you takes a sip of his own - he left it black, you notice. He grimaces slightly at the taste, but keeps drinking anyway. There's no effort there to pretend it's anything other than what it is - burnt, cheap coffee sold to him in a cafe full of ghosts, in a city that should be sleeping but never really does. It's interesting, you think, as you look out the window and into the dark street. You'd almost managed to convince yourself that you were really alone - that there was no one else in this world except you, until he walked in and broke the reverie of your 3am silence.

For what it's worth, Tim regretted it as soon as he'd walked in. He hadn't meant to stay, really - ending up in a part of Gotham he didn't often find himself in, in his civvies and in desperate need of a hot cup of coffee and a long sleep, he'd stumbled across the flickering, neon sign of a 24-hour coffee shop.

What good luck, he'd thought. Now, sitting across from you, there's a desperate little part of him that thinks maybe it wasn't just that - maybe it was intuition that drew him here. You don't know who he is, of course, all your previous meetings happening in the shadows of your home with his face hidden from you. Tim shifts in his seat, suddenly aware of how naked he feels, exposed to your wandering eyes. 

And you do let your eyes wander, narrowing them suspiciously as you take him in. Tim feels a pang of guilt that surprises him when he thinks that this is probably how you've always felt with him - like a lamb with a wolf at your door. As you lean back in your chair, swirling your coffee and letting your gaze trail away from him and towards the window, he feels his shoulders drop in relief. He's not the only wolf in your living room late at night, he realizes. You've got teeth of your own that he'd just never noticed.

You're good at this, Tim thinks with a start - you've got a foot propped up on the window sill next to you, your head resting in your hand as you watch the street outside idly. Or, at least, it's supposed to look like that. He thinks that if he were anyone normal, he would believe it. But Tim has spent enough time as prey to know when someone's pretending to let their guard down.

He looks away from you almost forcefully, staring down at his cup and running his tongue over his teeth as he thinks of the burnt taste of it. He wonders if you were smart enough to put sugar in yours - wise enough to bury the bitterness with something nicer. It's something he always thinks he should do. He can never quite make himself. 

"I'm sure those other tables are dry now." Your voice makes him flinch, a hard, forceful thing that cuts through the silence of the night that's blanketed the two of you. Tim looks around at the dull, streaky tabletops and shrugs. 

"I'm already comfortable here," he offers. You cock your head to the side and look at him, but make no move to fight him on it. He thinks it's probably stupid of him, inviting a lion into his home like this. He wonders if you feel the same way every time he slides in through your balcony door.

There's a silence that, once more, overtakes the two of you as he shifts in his seat. Tim wonders if he should drink faster, if he should pretend to be finished so that he can leave. It's funny, he thinks, how he finally felt like he'd stopped running away when he started running into you. It's funny that, now, he's itching for it, his hands gripping his cup in an attempt to still his heart - his need to escape.

You look back at him just in time to see him squeeze a little too hard, the cheap plastic lid popping off and hot coffee sloshing a bit over his hands. A mild, bemused sort of look crosses your face as you watch him curse and splutter as the coffee burns his hands and spills onto the table. Then, without a word, you stand up and begin to walk away.

Tim, in the meantime, is rubbing his hands against his jeans, his eyes squeezed shut in mortification as he wonders how he ruined it all so quickly. Not for the first time, he wishes he was in the mask - thinks maybe the only way to hold onto you is to make sure that's all you ever see. But then your cup scrapes across the table and he opens his eyes to see you sitting opposite him again, sipping idly and watching. There's a stack of napkins that he swore wasn't there before and - oh.

"Thanks," is all he can make himself say as he grabs them, cleaning up the mess he's made. As he goes to pop the lid back onto his cup, he looks at the dark liquid inside and grimaces, deciding that maybe it's not worth it.

"It's shit coffee," you say, and he slams his hand against the table, crushing the plastic lid in the process. Truly, he's not sure if he's ever acted this nervous before. You pay it no mind. He thinks maybe he could take off his mask, just this once, and reaches up to his face in time to remember that he's already exposed to you. "You're better off finding something else… or just going somewhere else." Tim smiles, then, a charming sort of thing that has you narrowing your eyes.

"I dunno,' he says. "There's something I like about right here." You glance down at your own cup, at the label that you've picked and peeled off until it's unrecognizable, the colours torn and cracked.

"There's nothing good about right here. And things like that don't change." Tim looks at you for a long moment after you speak, letting the words tumble around his head before he stands, taking his cup and squished lid and pile of wet napkins with him. 

"Well, I've never been big on change, anyway," is all he says as he walks away, dumping everything in the bin and letting the bell on the door jingle as he walks out. Looking back down to the table, you notice the card he's left behind - the Wayne Ent. logo flashing behind his name. Flipping it over, his number's been written in a hasty scrawl.

As you thumb a corner of the card, you wonder when he'd slipped it onto the table - when he'd written on it. Mostly, you wonder what kind of person he'd have to be to do it without you noticing. You trace the numbers with your finger and think that something, far in the back of your mind, is telling you that there's a familiarity about it all. 

But what's familiar about seeing someone in a place where you never should? What's normal about that man, appearing like a ghost in the night and disappearing just as fast? As you pull out your phone to add his number to your contacts, there's a part of you that thinks maybe you should run away - that maybe you're not the only thing stalking the streets of Gotham this late.

[saltofmercury]

hi i love ur writing sm and i hope you dont mind my request! can you do one where könig has a s/o that's prone to fainting and he's the one who catches them and just wait until they wake up like it's a normal occurrence now? IM NOT SURE HOW TO EXPLAIN but im prone to fainting and just hope for a könig in my life

hi hi! omg are you my twin? I used to pass out ALL THE TIME. Especially from period pain.

Pairing: König x f!reader

Summary: König helps you when you pass out.

a/n: This was so fun to write because I have passed out multiple times because of period pain, not being hydrated, and even one time because I got my ears pierced and the pain was too much. LOL enjoy!

"Collapse"

You remember the first time it happened.

You had a weird pain throbbing against your stomach, that wouldn’t go away for some reason. You were shopping in the store with your mom. You figured it was nothing, but then you felt hot, how hot your body felt, you kept going throughout the store, when suddenly, the room started to get dark, small bubbles of black and white appeared in your eyesight, your legs felt like jello, and sure enough you woke up breathing heavy, covered in sweat, with over 5 people crowding around you. Your mom had wondered where you wandered off to, but she did not expect this.

The second time it happened it was because of not eating. You were outside in the hot heat. You were a camp counselor rushing to your next activity planned for the day. You forgot to eat something and ran over to the next group. As you started talking, you felt fuzzy. The heat pounding on your head, you started to feel hot again. Why didn't you pick a swimming activity like the rest of the counselors? You moved up the hill with your troop, drinking water excessively, when the dots appeared again. You settle yourself on the floor and let the other adult take the activity. Not this again.

Again, you woke up with the kids and adults surrounding you, covered in sweat, breathing heavily. 

Several trips to the hospital, multiple scans, and even an EKG but nothing abnormal was detected. You just passed out.

The doctor had ruled out multiple theories, just told you to keep hydrated, eat something beforehand, to keep something with you in case your blood sugar went down. There was nothing wrong with you.

Several more instances played out throughout your life, and you knew to carry snacks with you at all times, not stay out in the sun too long, if you were in pain, to reach out to someone or lay in your car until it fades away. It became regular, there was nothing to really do.

It became less scary, and just something you knew how to deal with. 

*

It was one of the first things you told König on your dates. When you told König about it, he looked at you skeptically. 

“Are you sure, schatz?” he took a sip from his coffee in front of him, “There HAS to be more tests done.”

“Nope,” you said, secure of your doctors and self. “It just happens, there's no clear diagnosis.”

“Could be because of pain, low blood sugar, heat, anything really.”

And you hadn't had a fainting episode as of lately, your blood sugar didn’t run low, you weren’t in any pain, and you drank plenty of water. It seemed fine.

“I’ll let you know if it ever happens.” you said confidently. “I can tell usually when it's going to happen.”

König looked at you like you were crazy. 

“You can tell?” he stared at you, one eyebrow raised, and his hand toying with the cup in front of him.

“I'll explain it to you, usually I get really hot when it happens.” you paused looking at him. He looked like he was mentally taking notes.

“For some reason, I get clammy, hot, and I can tell I feel a little weak.”

He nodded, telling you to continue.

“Then when I can feel that happening, I see black and white dots taking over my vision, sort of like a dark aura coming into play.”

He looked at you like you were making it up. How were you not scared?

You smiled back. “It’s not as scary as it seems, it just happens.” you shrugged.

*

The first time it happened with König he was thankful that you were so calm. You guys had been wandering around an IKEA store finding a bookshelf for your books, and a new coffee table to put inside the entrance of his house.

You hated IKEA. The place was designed as a never ending escape room, on a constant loop. You were bumping into things constantly, and lost. König felt out of place here. He was like a giant placed inside a doll house.

“Everything here is so small, are you joking?” He looked at the table for six people. He looked like he could take up half of the table.

You were leading the way hoping and praying you would find the bookshelf section when all of a sudden you bumped your hip into some weird corner of a dresser.

“Oh… OW”

You rubbed the spot furiously.

“Are you alright?” König asked. “I saw you from the table section running straight into that.”

“Yeah I'm fine. It really hurt though.” The pain for some reason did not go away, and you started seeing the black dots come into vision.

“König…” you said gently, now the spot had been throbbing. “Don’t freak out, but I think I'm going to pass out.”

He looked at you. You had suddenly become pale, your face drained from blood, and you were sweaty all over. “Schatz… you don’t look well.”

“OW ow ow, yeah just, stay calm i’ll come back to-”

You closed your eyes and tumbled back.

König could only describe it as a limp doll falling backward. He immediately took two steps to catch you, and had held you, positioning your legs up against the dresser that caused this.

He remembered Horangi telling him about fainting and helping his other teammate when they passed out from a wound. 

He was starting to freak out. Luckily there weren't too many people around, and your breathing went from shallow fast inhales, to normal, regular inhales.

You gained consciousness again, hearing König mumble in German. Your eyesight wasn’t back completely, but you could hear, and once you focused your vision it was back.

König had held your head on his lap, was fanning you with some throw pillow, your legs propped up against a dresser.

“Hi” you said weakly.

“Jesus schatz, you scared me! How are you feeling?

You smiled weakly and answered “I’m ok just sweaty is all.” You picked yourself up, König behind you insisting you sit down a bit.

The car ride home he kept pestering you,

“BUT HOW did you know it was going to happen?” He kept questioning you as if he couldn’t believe it really happened.

“I just know” you said calmly

“We don’t have to call 911, or get you to the hospital?” He questioned you endlessly.

“No, just I'll be ok.” you grabbed a small candy bag from your backpack. “It was just pain, guess my body couldn’t take it.” you laughed and popped a candy gummy fish.

*

The longer you two dated, the more König started taking things seriously and even had started packing things for you. A small bag of candy in case you needed sugar, a hydration packet, an ice pack, and sugar gum. Small things like this just to prevent what happened at IKEA.

You guys were heading out to some event in a small town, you insisted that the whole place was going to be fun.

The place was crowded, filled with food vendors, different vendors selling their items, children running around, families having picnics outside, and many other small events crowding the area.

You held König’s hand as you guys walked through the crowd, worried that it could be too much for him. He was holding your hand because it was hot out today, and you didn’t have enough water.

You had found a spot to buy food from, while he found a small spot under a tree, placing your blanket down.

The heat was awful, standing in the line, you felt the heat beat down your hair and sweat dripping down your neck. There were 2 more people in front of you, a mom making changes to her order constantly. Your stomach grumbled and you felt your mouth dry up.

Fuck not again. You could see it happening, you tried not to psych yourself out because if you did it would happen. You tried to find König, he was only a couple feet away, but you could see he sensed it. He made eye contact with you, and ran over to you.

Cold water bottle in hand, he jogged a couple feet, you barely reached out to him, before your vision tunneled. This time it wasn’t so bad, you could feel him catch you before mumbling,

“I got you, you’re okay.” He said softly, dumped some cold water on your head, picked you up, wrapping your legs on top of his arms.

Your vision, still blurry and pitch black, you could feel the wind on your face, the sun’s rays on your eyelids trying to keep you down.

A few small cries of “Is she okay?” “That was such a good catch! “Do you need anything?”

König talking back to the people “She’s alright happens more often than you think.” Walking around with you.

You regained consciousness again, your head on König’s lap, he had a cold compress on your forehead, playing with your hair, fanning your face.

“Sorry..” you mumbled. Trying to face him.

He hushed you, “It’s alright babe, I kind of saw it happening.”

You blushed, looking away from him.

He put the fan down and grabbed the candy bag out of the backpack.

“Let’s get you hydrated and some sugar back in you, yeah?

[starfirewildheart]

Chapter 17

Summary: Sy and his lady both retire from the army but not before tragedy befalls Sy. He slowly tries to adjust to life again on their ranch.

Pairing: Sy / OFC

Word count: 2,512

Rating: no one under 17. I'm not responsible for what you read. Kindly police yourself.

Chapter 17

August glanced over his shoulder into the back seat. Three weeks and two surgeries later the hospital finally agreed to let Debbie go home. She still had a long road ahead and it still didn't guarantee a full recovery and her anxiety was through the roof at times and at other times was so depressed she was nearly catatonic and a few normal days scattered in between. She was refusing to eat and in general sulking like a brat. Sy hoped getting her home would help.

Mike had been released after a week and a half. Walt had taken custody of him and Napoleon and Will were staying with them as security until everyone was jailed, including the corrupt cops. He was recovering physically but emotionally he was distant and shutting them out.

Geralt turned onto the long, tree lined drive admiring the land and imagining what it looked like in summer. He loved the country and a working ranch brought a warm feeling to his heart. He drove past the barns where a few work trucks sat along with ranch hands tending horses noting a beautiful chestnut mare before turning his attention back to the drive. Finally they pulled up in front of the large ranch style home and parked. Everyone got out, Sy helping Deb out and lifting her into his arms bridal style while Geralt and August got everyone's bags.

Deb took a deep breath of the fresh air ecstatic to smell anything besides anesthetic and medicinal scents that she'd been trapped in for weeks. 

“Where's Aika?” Deb asked, seeking out their furry friend. 

“She's with my sister and the kids. They are bringing her home tomorrow. “ He gently bounced her in his arms. “Where would ya like to get comfy sugar?” Sy asked as they all walked in. All the Christmas stuff was still up even though it was after Christmas now because they hadn't got to celebrate yet.

“Bath.”

 “Baby,” he started but was cut off. 

“Bath,” firmer.

“You want to wash off again?” He could see wanting to smell like their soap and not hospital bath in a bag shit so he started toward their ensuite bathroom. He sat her on the edge of the bed with her bad leg up and started gathering clean clothes for her.

“No Sy, a real bath.”

He turned to her. “You know you can't get your leg wet Deb. Your stitches could come apart or you could get an infection.”

She crossed her arms over her chest and scowled.  “I don't care. I've not been in a bath or even a shower in three weeks!” When he arched his brow at her and crossed his arms over his chest she sighed and stood shakily on her good leg. “I'll do it myself!”

“Sit down!” He yelled and stepped forward. She sat down and blinked up at him with wide eyes. He hated yelling at her after all she'd been through but he refused to let her act out like that. “Little girl, you will not hurt yourself or cause any further injury just because you want to get your way.” He gripped her chin in his big hand and forced her to hold eye contact. “I'm gonna try to get you into the bathtub but if it doesn't work I will give you a sponge bath and you won't fight me on it. Got it?”

“Yes sir,” She agrees . “I'm sorry I yelled. I just feel so dirty and I haven't… I know I've been washed but I just

.. I still feel their hands on me and i…I just want to wash it all away.” He leaned in and kissed her forehead. 

Fifteen minutes later she was perched on the vanity in nothing but a shirt and bulky leg brace that went from her upper thigh to her ankle. 

Sy was filling the tub with water when something hit him in the back of the head. “Woman,” he turned to face her, suddenly realizing it was her shirt she'd thrown and she was now sitting on the vanity completely naked. “Fuck,” he rasped all blood flow in his body going straight to his dick. 

“I hope so,” She grinned,  crooking her finger and beckoning him to her. When he was close enough she fisted his shirt and pressed their mouths together in a heated kiss. Sy pressed against her, hooking her good leg over his hip and she felt him pulsing against her through his cargo pants. Tears brimmed in her eyes.

“Are you hurting?” He asked as he wiped a tear away with his thumb.

She shook her head , eyes locked with his while she tried to get her emotions under control enough to speak. Swallowing past the huge lump in her throat she pressed her hand to his bulge rubbing it and relishing in his sharp intake of air. “You still want me.”

“What? Of course I want you Deb. You're my life.” He didn't understand how that could even be a question but he could see the doubt in her eyes. “Debbie?”

“I just,” She didn't know how to express how she felt. Like she couldn't form the words much less say them. “I…”

“Talk to me darlin’, please.”

“Sy, the water,” She pointed to the nearly overflowing tub.

“Fuck!” he ran over and shut the water off just before it spilled over the edge of the tub. He laughed but drained enough of the water that she could get in without it pouring on the floor then went back to her. Cupping her face in his hands he leaned in, pressing their foreheads together. “Please talk to me. Don't shut me out Deb. I know you remember the hell we both went through when I tried to hide my thoughts from you. I was lost in my own hell and putting you through it too. We promised to tell each other everything after that, remember?”

She knew exactly what he was talking about. When he was recovering from his POW time he felt like he was too much, not worth the work, or the love she had for him and he tried everything he could to make her leave him but she refused. It nearly broke them both. “i..I'm not the one for you. Not your soul mate anyway. You're settling for me because I'm safe and comfortable.”

Sy felt like someone punched a fist into his chest and was crushing his heart. “You're my world Debbie, my heart, my everything. I'm sorry if I haven't shown you what you mean to me. Please, give me a chance to….”

“Austin, no! It's not that at all. You treat me like a queen and I know that you love me!” She hugged him tight. “This isn't about anything you've done or not done. It's about me. It's about me not being enough. I mean family is everything to you and your mom hates me. I turned your dream ranch into an animal rescue because I needed to feel like I was doing something helpful. I just latched on to you and didn't even notice that you weren't settling down or or ,” he head was pounding.

“That I haven't given you a ring so you couldn't possibly be what makes me happy? Isn't that what Lindy told you that night at the restaurant?” When he watched her he'd dip down because she couldn't look at him he gritted his teeth. “I haven't given you the ring yet because I wanted to be sure I could be the man you deserve,  that I could overcome the PTSD enough to give you a life, sugar. It has everything to do with you but not how you're thinking. I was so afraid of not being good enough I didn't show you how much I can't live without you.”

She shook her head, “No. It's not your..”

“We both said that but clearly there is a problem, sugar because you are doubting us.”

“Doubting me,” She explained quietly.

Realization washed over him and it all became crystal clear. She'd been his rock for so long he'd forgotten how she was when they first met. The chip she had on her shoulder because she felt like she had to prove she was good enough, that she could be the best at everything. He took it as a woman having to prove herself in a man's military at first but the more he was around her he realized that she was afraid to let anyone close, trusted no one to even have her six. She lived like she herself was the only one in the world she could trust or depend on. It led to a lot of being reprimanded, write ups, push ups, pull ups, and finally a talking to that finally made her see thongs from Sy's point of view about having to trust her team or they were all in danger. That was when he really started trying to get to know her in earnest, when he eventually learned about her abuse and abandonment. She'd come so far and he'd been through so much that he didn't realize she needed reassurance he wasn't giving her. He was a fucking moron. 

She gasped when Sy grabbed her face and kissed her and didn't stop until her tense muscles finally relaxed against him and she was breathless. She didn't even register him removing the leg brace until he was lowering her into the hot water, careful to keep her bad leg resting on the side of the tub. She sighed contentedly as she leaned back. Sy chuckled, “Feel good?”

“So good!” 

They both jumped at the knock on the bathroom door. Sy stood and went to see who it was.

“Your sister is here,” Geralt told him. “She needs to talk to you.”

“I'll be right there,” he sighed. He went back to Deb. “You stay put. If you aren't in the same position you are now when I get back I'm going to spank you until you can't sit and when that ass starts to cool down and feel better then I'm going to do it all over again and again until I feel like you learned your lesson and if I get tired I'll let Gearlt and August takeover.”

She fully intended to protest but what came out of her was more of a strangled whimper. He cleared his throat to hide his chuckle.  “I'll be good, I promise.”

“I know you will, sugar.” 

Sy went to speak to his sister and Debbie soaked in her hot bath. She sat still for a bit but really wanted to wash. Chewing her lip she pondered if grabbing the soap would be against the rules. Stretching her arm out she reached the soap without moving her butt at all and took it as a victory. Lathering up her bath puff she started washing herself. Once she felt squeaky clean she grabbed her razor and started shaving … everywhere. After three weeks she resembled a sasquatch except the leg and arm (shoulder) they'd done surgery on. When that was done she settled for a few minutes but quickly got bored, she was all alone after all. “Oooo jets!” Pressing the button the jacuzzi jets bubbled to life and massaged her sore muscles only with her bad leg up at an awkward angle it exposed her to the full force of the jets causing her to jerk and gasp. The pain that shot though her leg was almost instantly replaced with need as she used her finger to further expose her clit to the jet. Using her other hand she slipped two fingers into her slit working them hard and fast chasing the pleasure she didn't realize she needed so badly. Turning her body a little toward the side of the tub the jet hit the perfect spot and even though she couldn't reach the spot inside due to her awkward positioning the jet was doing the trick. Her hips slowly started to flutter as she threw her head back and whimpered through her release moving her hand away from exposing her clit as the pulse of the jet became uncomfortable. She hadn't noticed Sy come back in or even approach until she felt his fingers pushing into her still quivering hole. “Fuck!” She squealed at the stretch and shock of it.

He lifted her ass up out of the water enough to latch his mouth onto her clit and switch between sucking and licking until he'd made her cum two more times, the last time screaming out his name with a series of loud moans.

Sy got her out of the tub and carried her straight to the bed. It was tall enough that he could just bend her over the edge, carefully resting her bad leg out to the side up on the bed leaving her open to his hungry gaze. “You ready for me sugar? Gonna take my dick like a good girl?”

“Please,” he begged, trying to rub her ass back against him. She gasped when his big hand smacked against her ass leaving a burning ache in its wake.

“Be still, your brace is still off. You're in trouble as it is, little girl.” He grinned when she went still, knowing she was thinking about the spanking he told her she'd get if she moved earlier. He took the distraction to push himself in up to the hilt causing them both to moan at the sensation. “So fuckin tight for me, like your made to fit my dick.”

All she could do was moan incoherently as he railed her from behind, each thrust causing her to gasp as he pounded against her cervix. It was painful but the pull out and push in up to that point was bliss. She was losing the battle of control over her body and clamped down on him as tight as she could, wanting to give him some of the pleasure he'd Given her.

“Son of a bitch,” he growled as she squeezed him so tight he thought his brain was coming out of his cock. Reaching under her he started rubbing her clit. “Cum for me. I want to feel you come apart when I fill you full of cum.” A few more circles to her bundle of nerves and she was rutting between his cock and fingers.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” She cried as she exploded around him and he emptied inside of her, the wet squelching sound of their combined releases echoing in the room as he collapsed breathlessly beside her.

Tag List

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@enchantedbytomandhenry

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@summersong69

@mollymal

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@mollymal

[profound-imagination]

Rose Gardens - Part 3 - Eris Vanserra

A/N: Here's part 3! I hope you enjoy! A massive shout-out to @swansworth for helping me plan this fic! ❤️

T/W: Mention of injury and blood - it gets angsty besties.

Part 1 & Part 2

W/C: 3.9K

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

"YOU'VE BEEN WHAT?!" Okay, so maybe asking Cassian for help wasn't your best idea. "Be quiet!!" You hissed at him as you shoved him further into his bedroom and closed the door. "You've been writing to Eris Vanserra and you want my help to sneak you into Autumn so you can go to some festival with him? Have I got that right?" He hissed back, pulling the bun out of his hair and running a frustrated hand through it. "To sneak me to the border, not into Autumn" You corrected him sheepishly as he spun to face you. "Don't get smart." He snapped. You sighed. "Please Cassian?" Some of the rage ebbed from his eyes. "Why? Why Eris Vanserra?" You shrugged and sat on the edge of his bed. "I…I don't know, Cass." He continued to pace the room. "Rhys and Az would kill me!" You snorted. "No they won't. Not if you don't tell them! Besides, Rhys won't even notice I'm gone." He joined you and sat on his bed. "They'll kill Eris though, if they find out." You shook your head. "They won't know I'm gone! Az is too busy scouting for Hybern and Rhys is too busy with his child bride." A warning rumbled from Cassian's chest. "Feyre is not a child. She's our High Lady and you will show her the same respect you show Rhys." You held your hands up. "Please Cass, I want to live before I die in this war that's been started over Feyre." He sighed and ran his hands down his face.

"Fine." Your face lit up but he carried on before you could get ahead of yourself. "But I have conditions." You nodded. "Name them." So he did. "Eris is to guarantee your safety, from himself, from his father and brothers and whatever other dangers lurk in the Autumn Court, you are to be returned to where I drop you off by midnight, where I will wait for you and he will do it in the form of a bargain with me." You raised an eyebrow. "That doesn't sound like a bargain." He gave you a wolfish grin. "In exchange, I won't kill him. When Mor eventually grants Azriel and I revenge, I won't take it." You shoved his shoulder. "Those are my terms. He accepts them and makes the deal or when you inevitably sneak out on your own, I'll go straight to Rhys." You glared at him and he shrugged. "Take it or leave it."

You wrote back to Eris that evening and told him of Cassian's terms. His reply came almost immediately.

Dear Y/N,

He's smarter than I gave him credit for.

Tell him I accept his terms.

Tell me, which of the dresses did you choose and was the mask to your liking? I ask so I can dress accordingly.

Yours,

Eris.

You hadn't opened the box yet. The contents still a mystery. But Cassian had agreed. He was going to help you and you were going to see Eris again. So you finally opened the box.

Lying inside were three dresses and a mask all carefully wrapped in tissue paper. The smell of burnt sugar, cinnamon & fire wood invaded your nostrils, a smell that was so unmistakably Eris that you knew he'd wrapped them himself. You carefully unwrapped the first dress. A beautiful velvet gown of forest green. Gold thread decorated the neckline and the skirt in swirling patterns. The second was a deep red gown of silk and gossamer. There were no patterns decorating the gown but it was beautiful, timeless. The third was more practical, a cream wool dress with a roll neck and long sleeves. You couldn't help but think how nice it would look with the new boots you brought from the rainbow. Brown, knee high, leather. Comfortable, cute and practical.

The mask, the mask was something else entirely. A bronze coloured metal twisted into a beautiful deer. The antlers formed of twisted maple leaves. A deer you mused. Unassuming. You'd assumed he would've gone for a fox but it seemed he had his ways of taking you by surprise. You hurriedly wrote your response to Eris.

The full moon came quicker than you thought. You'd spent the morning training with Cassian and Azriel. The former kept shooting glances at you that you ignored. The latter still wasn't overly keen on speaking to you after your disagreement in Dawn. When they'd finally relented in your training in favor of Feyre you slunk back to your bedroom, where a note was waiting for you.

My Dearest Y/N,

I simply cannot explain how much I am looking forward to seeing you this evening. I have been counting down the days since you accepted my invitation.

I'll see you at sundown petal.

Yours,

Eris.

You grinned down at the letter and the rose petals that fell out of it when you opened it.

Sighing in contentment as you sunk down into the hot water of your bath, the aches in your muscles ebbing. You picked carefully through the selections of soaps and shampoos on the side of the bath, picking out your favorites to use. Soaking in the hot water, you allowed your mind to wonder what tonight would hold.

By the time Cassian knocked on your door that afternoon you were grinning at your reflection in the mirror. "You look beautiful, Y/N." He smiled down at you and you back up at him. You'd chosen the wool dress and knee high boots. Your hair cascaded down your back in gentle curls. A soft pink blush had been added to your cheeks along with a nude lipstick. You hadn't bothered with eyeshadow or khol due to the mask you'd be wearing. "Are you really sure about this?" Cassian questioned, he knew the answer from the smile on your face. "Yes Cass, I'm sure." He nodded once. "Let's go then, everyone else is down at the town house."

Cassian landed on the border a short time later. A fire had been set up, along with a basket of wine, cheese, bread and dried meats. You grinned up at him. "Looks like you've got an admirer." You teased the general. "I wouldn't go that far." A voice purred from behind you. Cassian tensed as your face split into an ear to ear grin. "Eris." You breathed as you turned around to face him. You suddenly understood why he'd asked which dress you'd chosen. There he was in a cream wool jumper that matched your dress and a pair of dark trousers. Hunting boots on his feet as was Eris' usual style. His red hair hung unbound as it was the last time you saw him and his mask was also of a deer. His antlers were bigger and you made note to make a joke about it later when Cassian wasn't around to hear it.

"Vanserra." Was Cassian's only greeting to the Lordling. "Cassian." Eris greeted him back. "Thank you for doing this Lord of Bloodshed." Cassian crossed his arms across his chest. "I'm not happy about it." He huffed. "You know my terms? She's to be back here by midnight. She's to be back here at the first sign of danger. You are to guarantee her safety from yourself, your brothers and your father and whatever other dangers lurk in this court. In exchange, when Mor gives Azriel and I permission to make you pay for what you did to her, I won't harm you. You'll die, but not by my hand." Eris nodded once. "I accept your terms." Cassian held his hand out to Eris who took it in his own and shook.

Cassian turned you to face him. "Have fun. Be safe. If you feel uncomfortable at any point, you come running straight back here." You rolled your eyes at him. "Yes dad." Cassian's lips didn't so much as twitch at your joke. "I'll be okay, Cass. You trained me, remember?" He nodded and looked at Eris over your head. "You remember that too. I trained her." You stood on your tiptoes and placed a kiss on Cassian's cheek. "Thank you for this. I know you hate it." He met your eyes and whatever he saw there must've given him some comfort that you'd be okay. "Go." Was all he said as he pushed you gently towards Eris' waiting hand.

Eris had pulled you to him and winnowed you a short distance away from Cassian. If winnowing with Rhys was darkness incarnate, then winnowing with Eris was like walking through the fires of hell itself. Not one flame touched you, the sensation was warm and comforting. "You look resplendent." Eris told you when you found your feet and you grinned at him. "Thank you, for the dresses and the mask. I'll return the other gowns." He shook his head. "The gowns are yours to keep, petal." You took his hand in yours. "I'll wear them to Starfall and to Court meetings, see if I can make that vein in Rhys' forehead pop." He laughed, his genuine laugh. "I've been trying to do that for centuries!"

The Lordling led you into a clearing decorated with tents, little balls of Fae light hung in the trees giving a soft glow. A huge bonfire was placed in the middle of the clearing. Fae were throwing pieces of glowing parchment into the bonfire and watching them burn into embers before they floated to the skies. Others were dancing around it. "What are they doing?" You breathed. "Wishes." Was all Eris said.

The tents around the clearing were filled with an assortment of things, spiced cider, hot chocolates, roasted meats, bread, toffee apples. "Do you like it?" Eris spoke softly into your ear. "It's amazing." He gripped your hand a bit tighter. "Would you like a drink, my lady?" You snorted at him. "Stop calling me that!" He smirked. "Never! Now a drink?" You rolled your eyes. "The spiced cider smells incredible." He pulled you towards the tent. "It is, it's my favourite." Eris handed you a cup of the warm spiced cider.

Eris proceeded to pull you around the festival, making sure you'd tried everything on offer, never once did he let go of your hand. When the two of you stood to watch performances or in queues for treats he stood behind you, his front pressed to your back, his arms wrapped around your middle. You were ever thankful for the mask you wore and that it covered the blush that was constantly on your cheeks. The two of you had taken a seat under a big oak tree, drinking hot chocolates and eating the caramels you'd begged him to get from a stall run by some of the children of the court. Your feet sore from dancing with Eris for what felt like hours. Every nerve ending in your body was on fire from how close he'd been, how your body fitted against his like it was made to do so. Your cheeks flamed again at the thought.

You were giggling at some witty comment he'd made, curled into his side, his arm over your shoulder, pulling you closer when a shadow fell over the two of you, blocking out the Fae lights. "Hello brother." The voice purred. One of his brothers. "Fathers been looking for you, The Hunt starts soon." Eris tensed, his spine straightening as he leveled his brother with a gaze. "I'm busy, Hawk." Hawk scoffed. "You and I both know you don't refuse Father. But it seems you've already found your chosen maiden for the night." He said with a vicious purr, one that made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. You felt sick as Eris' brother roved his eyes up and down your body like you were some kind of prey. "That is, if you get to her first, brother." Hawk smirked at his older brother, desperately trying to get some kind of rise out of him. "I said, I'm busy, Hawk." Eris' tone had changed, he was back to the cocky, arrogant Lord that the rest of the world knew and feared. His brother held his hands up. "I'm going, I'm going, I'll see you real soon darlin'." He winked at you as he turned and left.

Eris said nothing as he watched his brother disappear into the crowd. He didn't move as he took in his surroundings looking for any other members of his family. "Stupid, stupid." He was muttering to himself. You reached out and touched his shoulder. "Eris?" He flinched slightly at your touch. "You need to go." Was all he said. "What? Why? We have until midnight!" You protested. Eris stood and pulled you up with him. "It's not safe for you here, I never should've brought you here." He breathed as he started pulling you through the trees, back towards Cassian.

You pulled your hand out of his grip just before you reached where Cassian was waiting and stopped. He spun to face you, pulling the mask off of his face as he did so. "Y/N, please!" You took your own mask off. "Not until you tell me what's got you so spooked." You said calmly as you crossed your arms. "And while you're at it you can tell me what The Hunt is." You added. Eris ran a hand through his hair and you tracked the movement. "The Hunt is a ritual that's part of the Festival, the females run and the males hunt them. Once caught they claim each other. It's how we give the magic back, as the heir I'm always expected to start The Hunt but I wasn't going to this year, I was going to show you other parts of the court while it happened, have you far away from it. But then Hawk saw you with me and it all became so much more complicated." You tried, you really did try to stop the laugh that was bubbling in your chest but it escaped anyway. You clasped your hands on your knees as you continued to laugh. "You…you invited me to some kind of magical orgy?" You gasped out. "It's not funny, Y/N! It's not safe for you here, not now Hawk has seen you!" You calmed yourself and straightened. He was reaching for your hand again to keep you moving through the woods but you ignored it. You walked right into him and placed a small kiss on the corner of his mouth. A move that took him by surprise. "You stupid, overprotective male." You giggled your mouth brushing his again as you spoke. He seemed to fight with himself for half a second before his right arm wrapped around your waist, the left curling into your hair as he slammed his lips onto yours. "Have to keep you safe." He murmured between kisses. You separated and you were sure your face was the colour of his hair. "Now please let me take you back to Cassian." You nodded and took his hand.

Something was off with Cassian, you could see it in his body language when you approached him. Before you could open your mouth to ask him what was wrong, shadows shot towards Eris, wrapping around his neck, his wrists, his middle and they slammed him to the floor and Az was on him. "Azriel!" You gasped as Eris' hand was ripped from yours. "Get off him!" You took a step towards the males before a hand caught your wrist and you were enveloped in darkness. When the light returned you were in Cassian's arms. Rhys was leaning against a tree, Azriel was delivering punch after punch to Eris. "What do we have here then?" Rhys purred. He nodded at Az who pulled Eris to his feet, one of his arms wrapped around his neck, the other holding Truth Teller to his ribs, positioned to be a straight shot to Eris' heart.

"I thought I told you to stay away from him, Y/N?" Rhys asked, pushing himself off of the tree. "Then you get Cassian to lie for you and sneak you here?" You didn't answer him, trying hard to fight the tears in your eyes. Rhys nodded at Azriel again and Eris hissed as Truth Teller pushed into his ribs, puncturing the skin. You tried to force down the bile that rose in your throat at the smell of his blood. "Is this to get back at me? For choosing Feyre?" Eris' eyes widened. "What?" He choked out. "Oh yes." Rhys purred. "Has she not told you everything?" He pointed his question at Eris. "Rhys, don't!" You fought against Cassian's grip on you. "She's not what she seems, Eris. You weren't her first choice of High Lord." Rhys continued. "Did she tell you she's a witch?" Eris flinched at the word. Witches weren't something that was openly accepted in Prythian. "She loved me long before she met you, because of the power I have, it makes hers stronger. Just like yours would." Something like betrayal flashed through Eris' eyes and his face gave away everything he was feeling, Rhys had crushed him. You had crushed him. Rhys nodded again and Azriel twisted Truth Teller in his side. "Please!" You sobbed. "You're being used, Eris." Rhys continued. "You've also been working beyond what we've negotiated." Rhys purred at him, a talon scraping down Eris' face, splitting the skin as it went. "That's not something I can let go."

"I'll never see him again!" You thrashed against Cassian. Eris was a mess of cuts, bruises and blood. "Rhys please don't kill him! I'll never see him again, I swear it!" Rhys ignored you. "Azzie, please." Azriel faltered at his childhood nickname, the broken tone of your voice. Rhys turned then and looked at you. "You swear it? Never again?" You nodded. "Never." Rhys hummed. "I will kill him, Y/N." You pushed against Cassian again, he let you go this time and you fell to your knees in front of Rhys. "I swear it, Rhys."

Rhys looked over his shoulder at Azriel and nodded. Azriel let Eris go and he slumped to the ground in front of you. His eyes looked broken, betrayed. You reached a glowing palm towards him and he flinched. "Don't.Touch.Me.Witch" He gritted out. You in turn flinched at his tone, so full of venom and hatred. You felt your heart crack and fizzle into nothing. You hadn't even realised until that moment that you'd been giving pieces of it to Eris Vanserra. Rhys placed his hand on your shoulder and winnowed.

You were on your knees in the dining room in the House of Wind. Feyre and Mor were looking down at you with disdain as you sobbed. Rhys poured himself a drink as Azriel and Cassian walked through the balcony door. "You've ruined everything!" You sobbed. It was Nesta who wrapped her arms around you as you cried. "Come now girl, let's have some tea. It won't seem so bad in the morning." Amren ordered as Nesta pulled you to your feet. You didn't so much look at the others as you followed them out of the room.

Amren had been wrong. It seemed worse in the morning. You didn't go to training. You didn't leave your room or your bed. Crying to yourself, still in the dress you'd worn last night. It still faintly smelt like Eris which cracked your heart even more. You'd written to him, or you'd tried too. The paper never leaving your palm when you thought of him like it used to.

The following week was much the same. Cassian tried to speak to you everyday, to explain. Rhys had began screaming in his head and eventually he had no choice but to tell him where you both were. Azriel had arrived first and it had taken all Cassian had to stop the Shadowsinger from marching straight into Autumn to get you back. Nesta had walked straight into your room on the third day and run you bath. Once she'd coaxed you into it she washed your hair and brushed it out. You'd lost it again when you returned to your room with her and the dress was gone, along with the other two. Power had exploded out of you in a darkness that could've envied Rhysand's. "You tricked me!" You sobbed at Nesta. "Y/N, I didn't! I'll get you the dresses back!" Feyre had burst in then, Rhys on her heels and ordered her sister out and told her not to come back. She leveled you with a glare as she followed Nesta out the room. Rhys stayed.

"Are you really doing this to yourself, Y/N?" He asked, arms crossed. You didn't answer him, nor did you meet his eyes. "You haven't left your room in three days, you haven't eaten or slept. You haven't talked to anyone. Not even Azriel." You scoffed at him. "Are you really going to destroy yourself over this?" Your head snapped up to him. "Don't worry, Rhysand. I'll still fight in your war over Feyre." He bristled at your comment. "You're one to talk about destroying yourself though aren't you? A bit hypocritical. You're many things, Rhysand, but not a hypocrite." He uncrossed his arms. "I'm Rhysand now?" "You're lucky I'm speaking to you at all!" You snapped back. "You want to fight Y/N? Do you want to scream and shout at me? Throw your powers at me? Will that make you feel better?" You let out a humourless laugh. "You aren't worth my time anymore, Rhysand." Darkness crept into the edges of the room. "Even so, I am still your High Lord and you will respect me as such or you can find somewhere else to live." He growled in his most commanding voice. You glared at him as a shadow wound its way around your ankle. Keeping you planted where you were. "Fine. Done. I'll be gone by dinner." Rhys' face blanched for half a second before the uncaring face of the High Lord returned. "I'll see you on the battlefield then, Y/N. Find somewhere else to live but you swore and Autumn won't take you now. I'm sure your undelivered notes told you that." The shadow on your ankle tightened. "Get.Out." You gritted out through your teeth. Rhys turned on his heel and left.

To your surprise it wasn't Azriel that entered your room next. It was Mor. "Why?" Was all she asked quietly. "He makes me feel seen." Was your quiet reply. She hummed. "I know what he did to you, Mor. What you've told me. If I could change it, I would. If I could make it better I would." She wiped a tear off of your face with her thumb. "I can't get him out of my head, my soul. I should hate him for what he did to you but I can't." She held you as you cried. "I've lost everyone, including him." She ran a hand through your hair. "I'm sure you haven't." She tried to comfort you. "Rhys told him I was a witch, that I was using him for his power. Azriel hates me-." She cut you off. "Azriel does not hate you! Azriel hasn't come to see you because he thinks you hate him. For what he did to Eris." You sniffled and then admitted what you hadn't even admitted to yourself. "I felt it, Mor, everything they did to him, I felt it."

[seeingstarks]

spooky delights

summary : reader is feeling quite low, her husband has just the thing to turn that from upside down. pairing : jon moxley x afab!reader (husband!wife dynamic - fluff) cw : fake blood, blood licking (but reader thinks it's real at first), implied smut/nsfw if you squint - referred to mox as "your treat" in descriptions, nicknames (babygirl/lovely/baby), neck kisses/general kissing/slight french kissing. a/n: wanted to whip up a lil' something for halloween & this came to mind with prompt inspo from here. reblogs are very much appreciated! if you want added to the tag list send an ask but my writing updates are all over the place! word count : 712 words tag list : @harmshake gif credit : @allelitewrestlings

trick or treaters knocked on the door all evening long, being home and in the comfort of your dog was the only company you had for the time being as you awaited your husband to arrive home.

you hadn't felt like moving an inch from the sofa, only doing so to put out a bowl of candy earlier with little motivation to do much else as you went back under the covers, your dog hopping up on the sofa as you gave him a few pets.

ever since moving in with jon, you were fortunate to have snacks all around the house, however as you reached down and rummaged through the snack drawer below, you only managed to find those of the salty variety.

with a sigh, you rolled over to your side and snuggled up against your furry friend who was more than accepting of the ear scratches you provided.

after an hour or so passed by, the lights began to flicker off outside and chatter of kids on a sugar high dampened down as the night grew darker.

still no jon. you wondered what he had been up to this late. he was only supposed to be grabbing pizza and a few groceries but your sweet tooth grew stronger and the candy was bound to be gone by now.

the cincinnati native came with pizza in one hand and in the other two brown paper bags which seemed to be filled.

throwing the covers off, you were careful not to wake the sleeping pup as you stood up and greeted your husband, worry washing over your face as you saw the crimson liquid rolling down his forehead.

"is that real? here let me help you get that off-" you licked your finger, stepping up on your tippy toes and pressed a finger to jon's head, swiping the blood away with ease before going to lick it.

jon couldn't keep his eyes off you, simply chuckling at himself and your actions, adoring everything about you. "ohh, that's not- how you replicate fake blood so well amazes me." you shook your head at him and he pulled you in for a hug, feeling his arms wrap around you in a warm embrace.

you could stay this way forever, in the comfort of your lovers arms, head buried in the crook of his neck. it felt safe with him and despite living together he was your home.

"i got you a suprise baby." he reached into the bag pulling out an assortment of halloween candy, along with some frosting and gingerbread.

"we're gonna make spooky gingerbread houses?" you asked him in an excited tone, ready to rip open the bag of skittles, one of your many favorite treats besides mox.

"i know how much you love halloween and haven't been feeling your best lately.." he walked up behind you wrapping his arms around your frame, "so i figured this would help cheer my babygirl up." he nuzzled at the crook of your neck before placing a soft kiss on it.

"i love it, jon. you're the greatest husband ever." you smiled up at him starting to rip open each of the bags filled with sweet treats.

"i'll be right back, lovely." he hummed to himself and grabbed bowls for the food setting them on the counter and pouring it in.

the night was full of laughter, wandering hands, but most importantly you got to spend time with the person you loved most.

making a mess of the kitchen, frosting was spread over the counter and your face, basically anywhere but the gingerbread house.

"save some for our spooky masterpiece." jon shook his head with a chuckle watching you lick frosting from your finger.

"mm, how about nope." you turned to face him and spread some on his cheek causing the man to pull you into a heated kiss.

"tastes like mm-orange.. my favorite, unlike someone else." you shushed the man through closed lips as you opened your mouth and slipped your tongue into his, knowing full well he was talking about james. even in moments like these he was thinking about opponents but was there when it mattered most, with you. the spooky treats could wait just a little while longer you thought.

[ltash]

Piss Poor Tea

Ghost has to drive you to the city and he is not happy about it so he has something on his mind.

Ghost! I need you to take her to the city. She needs to get her belongings from her apartment." Laswell said.

"Why Me? Soap can drive her." He countered.

"Because I said so, Lieutenant," Laswell replied firmly, her tone leaving no room for argument. "Besides, you have your car here. It's more convenient."

A heavy sigh escaped Ghost's lips, his reluctance evident in the way he shifted his weight. "Fine, I'll take her," he relented, though the frustration lingered in his voice.

"Soap will accompany you too." Laswell said.

"Ok! When do we leave?" Ghost inquired, his voice tinged with a hint of reluctance.

"As soon as possible," Laswell replied briskly. "I am giving you a day off. Try to make it quick. Tomorrow we will be finalizing our next mission." With that, she declared, "Meeting is dismissed."

Ghost turned to me, his gaze lingering for a moment before he stated, "Meet me in an hour. Get ready." Then, without waiting for a response, he left the room.

The journey stretched on for two long hours, with Soap's incessant chatter filling the car.

"Aye LT! Why was strawberry crying?" Soap quipped, unable to contain his own laughter. "Because it was in a jam."

"Put on some music, please. I'm getting bored," I interjected, hoping to drown out Soap's jokes.

Throughout the ride, I noticed Ghost's gaze fixed on me in the rearview mirror, his eyes unwavering. "LT! You have a staring problem?" I teased, breaking the uncomfortable silence. "Look ahead, or we'll be in big trouble."

Ghost finally tore his eyes away from me in the mirror and refocused on the road ahead, his expression unreadable.

After a long journey, we finally arrived at my home in the afternoon. I turned the key in the lock and swung the door open, inviting Ghost and Soap inside.

"Welcome to my abode boys where I only got to spend 2 hours of my life. Make yourself at home." I joked around.

"Nice home lass." Soap added. Do you have a car too? He asked.

"Yes. They shipped my car beforehand. Its a Tesla. Its in the underground parking." I said. "And speaking of that I remembered it wasn't charged."

Soap replied. "A Tesla, huh? Fancy choice." He chuckled.

"Yeah, but not very practical if it's not charged," Ghost remarked.

"Don't worry, we can take care of that later," Soap said with a grin. "First, let's get your stuff."

"Do you drink?" Ghost asked.

"Yes I drink but only coffee. Sorry you won't find any Bourbon here." I chuckled.

"Good enough for me," Ghost said with a smirk. "But I drink tea."

Soap chimed in, "I could use a cup too, if you don't mind.

"Tea it is then," I corrected myself with a smile. "I'll put the kettle on."

I remembeed there was milk in the fridge which I hadn't even opened. Thankfully it wasn't gone bad.

As I was making tea Ghost came to stand against the counter. Soap was busy watching TV.

I added milk, sugar and tea altogether and put it on the stove.

Ghost was watching me closely and he intervened.

"You have to mix tea and water first and bring it to a boil then add a dash of milk and sugar according to taste. You are doing it wrong." He added.

"My mother used to make tea like that. I like it that way more." I said and gave him a smile.

"Its not English tea then." Ghost came closer and said very softly.

It gave me chills down my spine hearing him so close to me.

"You have to try it. Trust me." I replied.

"Jesus! Trying this tea will be more difficult than our Al Qatala mission." He scoffed.

He then went back to the couch to sit Soap.

After making tea I served it with biscuits and chips.

"Here you go gentlemen." I said placing the tray on the table.

"Thankyou Lass, for your hospitability." Soap chuckled.

Feeling the need for a change of clothes, I excused myself and made my way to the bathroom.

"Piss poor tea." I heard Ghost saying.

My blood started to boil at his remarks. Why does he have to be such a jerk?

My bags were already packed, untouched since my arrival. Retrieving my belongings, I selected a black, high-waisted leather skirt that hugged my curves, complemented by a velvet, noodle-strap blouse. Tossing on a leather jacket for good measure, I emerged from the room feeling refreshed and ready.

Returning to the common area, I found Ghost once again staring at me with his intense gaze. It was like his eyes were boring into my soul, igniting a fire within me that I struggled to contain. Sitting down on the couch opposite him, I tried to focus on anything but the way his eyes seemed to strip me bare with their intensity.

"Maybe we should hang out for a bit," I suggested, breaking the silence that lingered between us.

"I need to get something from my apartment too," Ghost muttered, his voice low and somewhat hesitant.

"Alright, let's go to a club then. You can get what you're looking for from your home, and then we'll head back," I replied, trying to keep the mood light.

"Fine," he agreed, his tone begrudging.

Soap, always eager to join in on the fun, chimed in, "I'M COMING TOO!"

"Of course you are! We won't leave you here," I laughed lightly, grateful for the opportunity to break the tension.

We arrived at the club, and Ghost ordered his usual bourbon while Soap opted for whiskey. As for me, I stuck to my usual coke, preferring to stay sober.

Soap indulged in drink after drink, quickly downing several, while Ghost kept a more measured pace. By the time we decided to call it a night, Soap was already passed out in the car, leaving Ghost and me to handle the situation.

"It's getting late. We need to get Soap home," I urged Ghost as we made our way to the car.

He drove to his apartment.

"We don't have much time Ghost. We need to leave. Make it quick please." I said.

Ghost glanced at me, his expression serious. "I can't drive a long distance properly after drinking. It's not safe. We'll have to spend the night here," he explained.

Concerned about Soap's well-being, I hesitated. "What about Soap?" I asked.

Ghost shrugged, unfazed. "Leave him in the car. Come with me if you want to. I won't take long," he suggested.

Despite my reservations, I knew he had a point.

Trusting him as my lieutenant, I reluctantly agreed. "Fine. Let's go," I said, steeling myself for what lay ahead.

The car came to a halt in front of a nondescript building, and I glanced over at Soap, who was sound asleep in the backseat.

Ghost opened the door, and I followed him inside the building, the weight of the night's events hanging heavy on my mind.

We rode the elevator up to the second floor, and I followed Ghost down the hall to his apartment, his confident stride unwavering.

As he unlocked the door and stepped inside, I followed suit, feeling a sense of unease settle over me.

He kicked off his shoes, leaving them neatly by the door, I saw him barefoot the first time.

I couldn't help but steal a glance at his feet, his toes were perfectly aligned, even this man's feet were perfect.

He opened his bedroom door and entered. My glance darting on his back, his cargo pants were tight around his thighs.

He looked so good in those.

Taking in my surroundings, I noted the simplicity of his apartment, the sparse furnishings lending an air of minimalism to the space.

"Come inside. I won't bite." His thick British voice echoed from his bedroom.

Reluctantly, I stepped into his bedroom, feeling a wave of apprehension wash over me. Ghost was perched on the edge of his bed, his gaze fixed on me as I entered.

I hesitated, unsure of what to say or do in this unexpected situation. But his reassuring tone eased some of my tension, and I took a hesitant step forward, closing the distance between us.

"What do you need from here?" I asked, trying to keep my voice steady despite the turmoil swirling inside me.

Ghost got up from his bed and walked over to a table in the corner of the room. There was a laptop and some files on the table. He picked up one of the files and started looking through it carefully.

He seemed focused on what he was doing, flipping through the pages with care.

"I need to give these papers to Capt. Price," he said.

I stood beside him, observing as he flipped through the pages. "What is this?" I asked, curious about the contents.

He remained silent for a moment before responding. "Forget it," he finally said dismissively.

But then he looked at me, and suddenly, a sharp piece of paper cut his thumb. He cursed softly, shaking his hand in pain. I did not know he took off his gloves.

"Show me," I said, taking hold of his hand and bringing his thumb to my lips, sucking away the blood from the paper cut.

The sweet and metallic taste of his blood touched my lips.

He stood there in total shock, his expression caught between surprise and confusion. A small groan escaped from his lips, his eyes narrowing at me with a mix of emotions.

I let go of his thumb, breaking the silence that had settled between us. "It should be fine now," I said softly, trying to ease the tension in the air.

He placed his hand on my cheek, the warmth of his touch radiating to my face, sending a shiver down my spine. "What have you just done to me, Angela?" he asked softly, rolling his balaclava up to his nose, his eyes locked on mine.

I struggled to find the words, but before I could respond, his lips crashed into mine, silencing any further conversation.

[writeforfandoms]

Congrats on 2k followers! Since you like Graves now, how about something with the "Close your eyes for me love" protective prompt?

Ooooh okay okay okay let's see here...

Warnings: kidnapping, threat of violence, implied violence, non-graphic violence, non-graphic murder, mentions of blood.

--

You had no idea how you'd ended up here. Really.

But you knew it was because of your husband.

You couldn't resist tugging at your wrists again, even though you knew you couldn't get loose. At least your ankles were loose.

"Relax," one of your guards grunted. They hadn't touched you apart from tying you to the chair, and one of them even stood with his back to you.

You weren't quite brave enough to talk back to them. Sure, you sassed your husband all the time, because he loved it. But these men? Nope. Not a chance. You liked being uninjured.

You wanted to, though. Wanted to know why they'd taken you, where you were, where was your husband.

You didn't have much longer to wait to find out the answer to one of those, at least. A door opened somewhere behind you, hard enough that you nearly jumped.

"Where's my darling?" Graves sounded pissed. Much more pissed than you'd ever heard.

"She's here," came the smooth voice of the leader. Well. You assumed he was the leader, because he's the one that made the phone call to your husband. "She's fine. Unharmed, as promised. Say hi to your husband."

"I'm okay," you agreed, voice shaky. "I promise I'm okay."

"Just stay calm, sugar. It'll be over soon." Graves sounded calm, finally.

"What's going on, Phil?" You couldn't keep the fear out of your voice, fingers twisting with your anxiety.

"It'll be fine," he reiterated, more firm this time. "Close your eyes for me, love."

You obeyed, squeezing your eyes shut. Your breathing picked up at the added anxiety, but, well. When Phil took that tone, you didn't disobey him.

There were no more words from your husband. The leader started talking.

And gunshots tore through the silence. You screamed, hunkering down in your seat as much as you could.

But it was over almost as fast as it had started. A few soft thuds broke the silence.

"Okay, sugar," Graves murmured, much closer now. Hands landed on your shoulders and you jumped. "Keep those eyes closed for me, okay? Don't look."

"Okay," you managed, small and very scared.

His hands loved to your wrists, freeing you quickly. And then he helped you to your feet, keeping a good grip on you.

"I've got you, love," he murmured, low and sweet. "Just focus on me, and keep your eyes closed."

Your steps were uncertain, but Graves guided you carefully. You stumbled only once, whimpering when you stepped on something with more give than the floor. He hissed a curse and quickly moved you.

"Almost there," he assured you quickly. "You're being so brave for me, sugar, so good for me."

A few more steps and the air cooled as you stepped outside. The quality of the noises around you changed, farther away and quieter.

"Okay, sugar. You can open your eyes now."

You did. But only enough so that you could turn into your husband, burying your face in his chest and hiccuping as you tried not to sob outright. He cooed gentle nonsense to you, swaying you back and forth, as the both of you ignored the blood splattering both of your clothes.

"Clear, sir," came the soft voice of one of his men. You recognized the voice, in a hazy kind of way. He'd been at one of your holiday get togethers.

"Stick to the plan," Graves commanded, though he kept his voice softer, for you. For your comfort. "And keep me updated."

"Yes sir."

Graves finally gently nudged you into moving. "I'm sorry, sweetheart, but we gotta go. There's a car right up here, okay? Can you make it to the car for me?"

You sniffled but nodded, clinging to his hand as he led you the few yards to the car. You didn't look back, barely looked at anything else until the two of you were strapped in the back seat of the car.

Then Phil hauled you into his lap, and you burst into tears. He held you steady through it all, rubbing your back and pressing kisses to every inch of your face he could.

You didn't let go of him for a long time.

[maccreadysbaby]

Project: Killcode

batfamily + oc insert

tw: none

wanna read more? here’s the table of contents!

want to read the first fic in the hundred days series so you understand what’s going on here? here it is!

just another moment with our bell 🥹🫶🏻 also bentley do be STRUGGLIN

part fourteen

❝ THE RIGHT THING ❞

MONDAY — JULY 23 — 7:23AM

BENTLEY HAD NEVER BEEN PART OF SOMETHING QUITE AS CHAOTIC AS THE FIRST DAY OF SCHOOL WITH SIX ROOMMATES.

Having not gone back to sleep after Bellamy woke him up, Bentley took the time to actually make sure he looked okay, that he had the uniform on right and that he did his hair just the way Dick had taught him. He organized his backpack like he'd never organized anything in his entire life, double and triple checking that he had everything he could ever need for his classes on him at all times. 

Speaking of classes -- he had seven of them, every single day at Redwood. Seven. Back in Gotham, he did well enough to keep up with four. But now it was seven -- and Asten was only in two. Which definitely didn't make him even more anxious than he already was. (It wasn't like the campus was literal square miles in size or anything!)

Contrary to Bentley's solid panic-induced logic, all of his roommates decided that going back to sleep after Bellamy's scare and getting ready later was the best course of action.

Classes started at eight, and the come-whenever-you-want style breakfast ended at seven-fifty-five. Valor said it would be best if they left their dorm at seven.

It was seven-twenty-three, and only two of them (Bentley being one) were presentable enough to even think about venturing into the hallway.

Bentley was sat at the dining table, religiously scanning the map of the campus over and over, trying to gather his bearings and vaguely locate his classes. He hadn't been quite that anxious since his first day at Gotham Academy — that kind of anxious that made his whole body buzz, that sort of made him want to throw up. Redwood Academy was huge, and there were well over a dozen buildings, maybe even two dozen. Every single one of his classes was in a different building that he'd have to find and memorize. Not to mention finding rooms once he found said buildings. He didn't have any maps for those, only a lonely room number and force of will. He could get so utterly, embarrassingly, painfully lost on a campus so big. So painstakingly, ashamedly, catastrophically lost.

He kept jittering at the table, dressed and ready with his full backpack on his back, the contents of which he'd re-checked at least seven times just since leaving his bedroom. Asten was still in their bathroom, trying to tame is lion's mane of a hairdo. (Bentley had told him showering ten minutes before they had to leave was a bad idea, but it had ended up being even worse after Asten tried to blow-dry his hair to make it, quote-on-quote, be better faster.)

It wasn't helping Bentley's stress levels at all that a very pale-looking Varian was sat in the kitchen floor, dawning half a uniform and pajama pants, with a (surprisingly ready-to-go) Koa forcing Capri-Suns down his throat like a human feeding tube. His blood sugar had been far too low, he'd said, but shrugged off help because he was used to it.

Exactly thirteen seconds later, Koa had to catch him mid-blackout. 

No one seemed bothered by Varian legitimately fainting right in the middle of their dorm, which maybe meant it happened a lot? Bentley wasn't sure. Apparently Koa had been dealing with it for a while, because he knew exactly what to do, and the others trusted him enough to pay the pair no mind. 

Bentley, however, was bothered enough for all seven of them -- adding on another layer of oh-my-God-my-roommate-is-literally-incoherently-ill-on-the-floor adrenaline and panic that was so extremely unnecessary at that particular moment. (How could they just be normal when one of them was laid out on the floor? Were they sure he would be fine? Would he be able to go to class? Why did no one else seem half as terrified as Bentley felt?)

The pre-made holes in the back Valor's uniforms were too small for his wings, so he and Rockie, both still in pajamas twenty-three minutes after their allotted leaving time, were in the living area hacking at them with scissors. Bentley kept glancing over to check the progress -- which he gauged through how many shreds of fabric were all over the floor. Valor kept trying stuff on and cussing with his British accent, and it might've been funny if Bentley could think about anything besides how terrified he was.

And Bellamy... 

Well, Bellamy just hadn't come out of his room yet.

Bentley traced the lines of the campus buildings with his eyes over and over and over until he thought his brain might bleed, the vague sounds of scissors and Capri-Suns crinkling being the only ambiance he was allowed. 

It felt like starting at Gotham Academy all over again -- like he was being physically ripped away from the only people who provided little comfort to his measly life. For three years now, it had been him, Asten, and the Wayne's. Just living, just doing, in their Manor, with their family, doing their things. Helping each other and talking to each other and doing things with each other. Now it was suddenly just... him. Managing himself, his time, his choices, his everything. His whole life. (Was this what being an adult was like? Because it was horrifying.)

That in itself made him feel like even more of a dumb outcast than he already did. Kids his age practically drooled over the very prospect of being somewhere with no parental supervision, where they could do whatever, whenever. It was a thirteen-year-old's dream to be so suddenly independent, but all it did to Bentley was freak him out. 

Every time he tried to do what he thought was right, he almost died. Every single time he made a choice, it had insanely dangerous and dire consequences that sucked other people in and wrecked lives. He'd nearly gotten himself killed by running away his first few months in the Manor — he ended up poisoned and in a hospital and somehow still managed to come out with a family on the other side. He'd run away again, broken into a house, gotten his best friends turned into lab-rats, took visits to death's doorstep like it was his second home, and had surely caused more emotional turmoil than any other kid in the entire world. 

And still, Bruce just said yeah, sure when he asked to move two states away with a handful of other teenagers for ten months. Ten months with no physical contact where Bentley's awfully, horrendously, excruciatingly terrible decision-making could rear its ugly head in devastating ways. It didn't make sense — he didn't understand it. Part of him vaguely recognized it as Bruce trusting him -- but the other part just saw an opportunity to screw up so badly without even meaning to, like he always did.

Already, he knew things he shouldn't have known. What if he managed to drag all of his newfound friends into the insane psycho cloud of chaos that seemed to follow him like a shadow? What if he did the wrong thing? Made people mad? Got people hurt? Like he always did? 

Granted, so far, he didn't know anything of life-threatening importance. But even so, if he said what he'd learned about Georgia wasn't eating away at his brain, he'd be a big fat liar. All he could see every time he looked at Rockie was her, announcing just how much she'd cheated on him, completely unbothered by it. She'd turned cheating into a game and Rockie didn't know a thing.

Bentley assumed it would be best for Rockie to know — that telling him would be the right thing to do. But, whatever Bentley thought was the right thing never actually seemed to be the right thing in the end. It always ended with crying and pain and death and terror and all the unwanted, unwarranted things that Bentley Whittaker-Wayne carried around like a parasite.

So he decided the right thing would be for him to keep his mouth glued shut. Starting drama and telling secrets wasn't in his wheelhouse. Plus, it was pretty hard to think about dropping such a big bomb on a kid he just met through the insufferable amount of stress that was threatening to turn him into an angry little puddle of goo.

"Stop, you're waterboarding me," Varian mumbled, finally drawing Bentley's attention again, batting Koa's hands (and Capri-Sun) away from his face. "You're going to overshoot my low."

Koa made a clicking noise. "I need you coherent enough to put on the rest of your uniform."

"If you make me go high... it'll be worse," He replied, fumbling to grab onto the counter and hauling himself out of the floor -- very unsteadily. His tie was on all wrong, his hair was a wreck, and the Spiderman pajama pants he was sporting were sure to get him dress-coded. Standing next to Koa in all his perfect, blonde, sunkissed, uniformed, California-ed glory made him look like a kid on a don't do drugs commercial. "Plus, the apple juice Capri-Suns are terrible. I'm going to get dressed."

Bentley watched quietly as Varian (albeit a bit unstable) shuffled back to their bedroom, Koa following behind with the Capri-Sun (and an additional unopened one) still in hand.

"Oh my God, finally," Rockie groaned. Bentley glanced over at them, his eyes bouncing across the probably thousands of shreds of uniform fabric littering the floor around the couches. Valor had finally managed to get all three layers of tops (his button up, vest, and blazer) on his person and get his wings through the holes. It had only taken them -- what, forty-five minutes?

Bentley just watched quietly as Rockie stood (trying real hard not to think about Georgia) and disappeared back into their dorm, frustrated and in a rush. Valor followed him -- hopefully to find his pants. Which he wasn't wearing. Hadn't been wearing all morning.

"You good, B?"

B was so extremely ungood that he nearly flinched himself off the bench when Asten spoke. Whirling backwards, he caught sight of the Brazilian finally making his way out of their room with his bag and uniform tidy, black and blue hair kind of fluffy but otherwise alright-looking.

"Yeah..." Bentley managed to squeak, looking back down at the map that was on the table ahead of him. Apparently it wasn't at all convincing, because he literally felt Asten give the side of his head Bruce's patented you seriously think I believe that? look.

"You're a bad liar," He replied nonchalantly, making his way over to the table and putting his bag on top of it with a thud that made Bentley jump again. "Talk."

Bentley rubbed his hands over his face and through his hair. "Stressed out."

"About?"

"Life,"

Asten nodded in understanding, sliding himself onto the bench across from Bentley in an attempt to catch his eyes. It didn't work.

"You know Bruce will come get you in a heartbeat, right?" Asten questioned, tapping his fingers on the table. Why did everyone think that's what he wanted to hear? That they wouldn't mind if he chose to give up? To change his mind?

"I don't want him to come get me," Bentley spat, with way more venom than he'd intended. Still, he let it linger, because he was too ugh to workout how to backtrack. Asten didn't seem phased by the tone, anyhow. Which was good. "I just want to not screw everything up anymore... and I go and willingly put myself in the perfect situation to screw everything up."

Asten's face changed at that, fell blank -- and for a moment, his green eyes drifted to the table and stayed there. 

"Well, you haven't screwed up yet," He offered, with a faint little fake smile. "You've lasted longer than I have."

Bentley said nothing. What was he supposed to say to that, anyways?

In Bentley's book, he guessed, y'know... getting drunk and kissing someone... kinda was a screw up. Asten wasn't a screw up, no, definitely not. But... Y'know. Maybe what he did kind of was. So he couldn't really disagree with him.

"I just wish I would stop being so anxious all the time," Bentley murmured instead of answering Asten directly, glancing back down at the map on the table, tapping his fingers there. "It takes over my whole life."

Asten exhaled lightly, leaning forward and propping his elbows on the table. "You've been doing way better, B. Don't ignore that."

Bentley propped his head in his hands. "Doesn't feel like it. Feels like I'm... backsliding."

"You're not," Asten replied with the shake of his head. "The Bentley Whittaker I met at Gotham Academy would have choked at the idea of moving to New York alone. And you didn't even hesitate to go off campus without me. A few years ago, you couldn't have done that."

Bentley breathed in. Logic said he had a point, but the self-destructiveness that was apparently pre-wired into Bentley's brain seemed to ignore all the logic. So he shrugged. "I don't think-"

"Bentley?" Came a small, nearly inaudible voice.

Bentley's ears perked, and he spun around, glancing at the living area. It was person-less, the furniture empty and space unfilled. Valor's uniform shreds were covering the floor, and nothing moved.

Surely he wasn't so stressed he was becoming delusional.

It took him about ten seconds to realize that Bellamy's door was cracked open the slightest bit, and Bentley could see him peeking through it.

"I'll be back," He said, rising from the bench and moving away from the table. Asten didn't reply, but pulled out his phone instead.

Bentley made his way across the room, and when he got close to Bellamy's door, Bellamy vanished from his sight.

Bentley pushed the door open just enough to get in. "Bellamy?"

His room was tidy now, spotless, really, bed made, and he was standing sort of behind the door, looking awfully embarrassed. He had his uniform on correctly, and his hair was all done. The only thing missing was-

He held up one of his hands the slightest bit, and his tie was balled up in it. He made sure not to look Bentley in the eye when he muttered: "I can't do it."

Bentley felt a little wave of something like sympathy wash over him when Bellamy recoiled a little right after he said it, like he was half expecting to be berated. 

He gently pulled the tie from Bellamy's hand. "I went to a private school before this, and I didn't know on my first day, either. My brother had to teach me."

Bellamy's big brown doe eyes locked onto his, something like shock or confusion rippling across his features. 

Bentley straightened the tie out and held it up. "May I?"

Bellamy nodded.

Bentley carefully looped the tie behind Bellamy's head, pulling both sides to the front and straightening them. "There's a big side and a small side."

Bellamy glanced down at the tie. "Mhm."

"You put the little side over the big side, then wrap the big one around it," He explained, doing so slowly as he explained so Bellamy had a chance of catching it. "Then the big side goes up through your neck hole, and down through the little loop you made."

He finished tying the tie, wiggling it and straightening it into place beneath Bellamy's collar with a faint smile. "Ta-da."

Bellamy looked down at it, again, looking embarrassed. "I'm not gonna remember that."

"It's okay," Bentley replied. "I'll show you again tomorrow."

Bellamy said nothing, but went toward his bed, where a brown leather backpack was laying. Bentley noticed that he tended to move in a way that indicated he was ready to run, like he was constantly prepared for whoever he was with to strike like a snake.

Bentley shifted his weight to one side. "Are you excited for your first day?"

Bellamy picked up his backpack and began sifting through it. 

"No," He answered simply.

Bentley blinked a few times, shifting his weight awkwardly again. "Wanna know a secret? Neither am I."

Bellamy glanced back at him, taking a moment to stare before continuing: "Really?"

"Oh, yeah," Bentley replied. "I'm pretty sure my entire being is ninety-percent anxiety at this point."

Bellamy did a few more things with his bag and then clasped it up. It had little buckles and holes like a belt — and it looked kind of old, too.

"What's the other ten percent?" He questioned.

Bentley shrugged. "Probably my red hair."

Much to his surprise, the flat attempt at a joke actually got Bellamy to crack a tiny smile.

"Hey, can I see your schedule? Maybe we have some classes together," Bentley suggested. He wasn't quite sure how all of that worked, given Bellamy was sixth grade and he was ninth, but it wouldn't hurt to check anyways.

Bellamy didn't reply, but did go about fishing a folded up paper out of his blazer pocket. He handed it to Bentley without looking him in the eye.

Quietly, Bentley unfolded it and scanned the classes lined up in blocks across it. "It looks like we have free period at the same time. And beginners biology."

Bellamy glanced over, toward the paper. "Really?"

"Yeah," Bentley replied. "That makes me feel a little better about those classes. What about you?"

"...I guess,"

"Bentley, you two coming? Everyone's ready to go!" Asten shouted from the other room, following by a grumbled: "Mostly..."

Bentley glanced at the door, then back at Bellamy. He looked around the room, spotting a little pencil holder with a few pens on it on Bell's desk. "Here."

He grabbed one of the pens and clicked it in, scribbling his phone number on the bottom of Bellamy's schedule. "You have a phone, right? If you need me anytime during the day, call me."

Bellamy eyed the phone number like it had personally offended him. "But you'll be in class."

"It doesn't matter, if you need me," He replied, folding the paper up and handing it back to him. "Let's go suffer through this thing, yeah?"

A moment of silence passed where Bellamy said nothing. Another passed, and another, before he hesitantly nodded and grabbed his bag.

Bentley opened his door, and they filed out of his bedroom at seven-thirty-nine.

First day of school, here they come.

—

tag list! (If you want me to remove or add you, ask in comments!)

@fleur-alise @sarcopterygiian @flyrobinflyy @gayboss-too-close-to-the-sun

@xiaonothere @skylathescholarly @beatyoutothatusernameloser

[delucadarling]

Current rambling thoughts on dieting/weight loss, nothing that's a downer:

Back in April I got blood test results that showed my cholesterol was high and my sugar was barely shy of being diabetic. It spooked the shit out of me, as despite being fat most of my life, I was also pretty healthy and somewhat active. It was after getting covid that I was so fatigued I dropped the active thing pretty much entirely.

The doctor was more focus on the sugar, and recommended cutting back simple sugars, adding in more fiber, and increasing my weekly activity.

I'd been wanting to get back into shape for a long, long time but I've been nervous about trying the gym again. My dad was one of those shithead people that secretly films people in the gym doing things 'wrong' or committing the sin of being fat in public. It had me terrified of trying to get fit where other people could see me, because you know, most people don't want to be mocked.

Lucky me, I have the most amazing, supportive girlfriend ever. She took me by the hand and very gently showed me around the gym, helped me learn how to use the machines, and didn't mind when I shadowed her around as she did her workout. From there, I got excited! I used to LOVE working out, I just mostly did simple stuff, running, and swimming. I did a lot of WiiFit when I was younger, and this one Jillian Michael's DVD I found at Walmart for like $5 at the time. Running was the big one though (hello Zombies, Run folks).

So just making those changes (less soda, more fiber, more exercise) over the course of maybe 3ish months I dropped almost 15 lbs. I hadn't been tracking my weight, but I did compare the results the doctor took from my previous three appointments. I was kind of shocked! I've never had a healthy relationship with weight loss, and every time I've tried to lose weight it lead to a lot of heartache, misery, and doubled weight gain. So I more or less wrote off my ability to trim down and decided to just be fat and happy.

I will say though, the extra bulk has recently frustrated me. I can't do yoga the way I used to. My limbs are still flexible but I keep getting blocked by my own fat. I have to go real easy on my joints because of all the extra weight, which is frustrating, because I'd honestly love to try jogging again. I just don't want to fuck my back and knees up again.

I decided to give losing weight another try, with a lot more self-love, after a lot more research, and with the support of someone who has loved me even at my fattest and never said a word about it.

It hasn't been too hard this time. I don't feel like I'm depriving myself. I am impatient, I want to see results NOW, but obviously that's not how things work. And slow is better anyway.

I know tumblr has a generally negative view on weight loss, and I fully include myself in that. I bought into the 'starvation mode means you'll never ACTUALLY lose weight permanently) thing, I was convinced anyone trying to lose weight had the same disordered ideas on it that I used to have (and still struggle with sometimes). It's a loaded topic for a hundred reasons, so I am trying to be conscious of when I talk about it and around who. Hence the tags and putting it under a cut. I'm happy and excited to be trying this out, putting my health first, trying to feel strong and capable in my body, but I absolutely know first hand how upsetting hearing about dieting can be. Not to mention how hard it is to avoid the more toxic side of trying to change your diet and fitness.

I've found a lot of resources that are very facts based, cut and dry, and leave out the moralizing behind weight loss and weight gain and just weight in general. There are a lot of very encouraging resources as well.

So yeah! As said, this is just a ramble, I like to write to get my thoughts down, and it always comes easier when it feels like I'm talking to someone, not just myself. I probably won't post a lot about this, but it's been just over a week since I started tracking my food and daily weight specifically, which always used to be something that would send me into a bad habit spiral. This time feels different. I've been doing fine. There have been a few moments of disappointment, but they've been easy to shake off. Mostly I'm just astounded to learn more about the macros involved in the food I eat, and I'm also happy to have tools to help me find portions that make me feel full and not stuffed. On the days I've been not kept to my deficit goals, it was because I was hungry and decided it was more worth it to feed myself than stick to a number and I didn't feel a bit of guilt about it afterward.

I'm pretty pleased with how it's going so far. I feel stronger, I feel more energetic, and tracking my food intake and weight makes the part of my brain that loves a spreadsheet very happy.

[akwolfgrl]

The matchmakers match

Vivi!”

“Nami!”

Sanji watched as Nami and Vivi embraced as if they hadn't seen each other in years and not a few hours, like long lost loves. Like Odysseus seeing his beloved Penelope after twenty long years. It was sweet, if not a little painful. He yearned for a love like that. They were always like this, Sanji could vividly recall the way Nami mooned after Vivi when she would leave. It was like watching the sun vanish behind the clouds. This was before they even started dating.

Vivi and Nami, along with Usopp and Kaya, were his first matches. All he had to do was give them a nudge in the right direction, but the feeling of helping people find love stuck with him. It wasn't long after he started to work with Eros. He had been doing his own personal practice for only six months and had assumed he'd go down the kitchen witch route like Zeff. He probably could do both if he wanted to.

“Happy Birthday, Sanji,” Vivi parted from her wife to give him a hug.

“Oh thank you so much, Vivi darling,” Sanji happily hugged the blue haired woman back.

“Happy birthday, Sanji!” Usopp cheered, sliping into the both with his soom to be wife.

“Are you looking forward to tomorrow?” Kaya asked him, sweet as always.

“Of course I am, my dear Kaya,” Sanji informed her. “I've been eager to try the Don Angie lasagna for myself, and anytime spent with my lover ladies and dear friends is a good time,”

“What's Zeff making?” Usopp asked.

“No idea, the old geezer wouldn't tell me,” Sanji admitted.

Nami giggled and smikered. “I know what he's making,”

“Oh Nami sweet plase tell me!” Sanji begged and pleaded reaching across the table hands claspsed together. “I'll happily pay any amount you wish me to!”

“Hmm tempting but nope,” Nami patted his head false remorse in her voice. “I'm sorry, Sanji-kun,” Sanji pouted as he sat back up.

Sanji shiged. “Well if Zeff entrusted the secret to a beautiful lady, I must respect it,” If it had been Usopp, he could have pushed further, Luffy would have told him. “Well I'm going to get a drink before Luffy shows up,” Sanji left his group and headed for the bar.

“Sanji!” A familiar voice greeted him as he approached the bra.

“Ace, I didn't know you worked at Ivas place,” Sanji remarked as he slid into an empty stool.

“I just started the last bar shut down after Pops died,” Ace explained, his eyes filled with sadness as he remembered the man that took him under his wing. “Well, I have a new job now, Ivas been great to me! So what can I get the birthday boy?”

“Hmm, surprise me. Oh! By the way, are you and Law still coming tomorrow?” Sanji asked.

“Yup! Law doesn't have any surgeries scheduled for tomorrow, I'll be bringing the alcohol Nami already gave me a list. Law said he'd take care of the gift.” Ace began pouring vairues liquids into a large shaker cup.

“Good to hear. I don't want the bloody rice I made this morning to go to waste, I haven't made it since we broke up,”

“Oh man he's gonna love that, you need to teach me how you make his onigiri one of these days,” Ace poured in ice, topped the cup with another cup and began to shake.

“It's really simple. You just take the normal amount of water and replace half of it with blood. Mix well before adding it to a rice cooker, unless you still don't know how to cook?” Sanji asked, watching Ace strain the liquid into a martini glass.

“Gilty, and here we go! I call this Mr. Prince,” Ace presented the glass with a flourish before topping it with a sugar flower. The drink was a bright blue, it smelled delicious, and Sanji knew it would be strong.

He took a sip. “Mmmm prefect,”

“Yes you are,” Ace told him with a flirty wink.

Sanji rolled his eyes fondly. “Save that for your boyfriend,” Ace laughed at him. There were no hard feelings between him and his ex boyfriends, Sanji had set the two of them up after all. He took a sip of the drink and hummed. “This is wonderful, Ace!”

“I am to please, now tell me about your newest client,”

Sanji happily talked about his newest clients as he drank the cocktail Ace made him.

[landwriter]

oh menacing writer of the land, I bow to thee. forgive me for my intrusion, for I come to you with great reverence. might I be granted with the holy scripture of the musician!dream x professor hob au? I bring an offering of information on touring, musician life + music industry insight, should you so graciously answer my prayers 🙏

a handsome gift! the least I can offer is more twitter beef au!! most of this was written right in my tumblr drafts when I was still labouring under the delusion that was I was doing could be called "describe the fic you would write" - hob learns about The Diss Track. in his introduction to english lit class:

On Thursday morning, Hob is walking to his lecture, wearing his one sweatervest, because he can, thank you very much. Morpheus hadn't posted in over a day, and he supposes that's just the speed of the internet, and their little battle of wits is over. When he gets into the hall and sets his bag down, every single one of his students looks up at once. And several young people who - who are not even his students, he thinks.

"Right, hello class. Good to see you all here and keen on our last lecture before winter break. And welcome to the new faces as well. I can only assume you're here because of your interest in Marlowe."

"Oh my god," someone says at the back, loud enough for Hob to hear. "He's wearing the vest." He firmly reminds himself this is exactly what he wanted.

Amanda, who sits at the front and always does the readings, raises her hand. Hob calls on her in relief.

"Uh. Professor. We love Marlowe. But haven't you seen it yet?"

Hob had forgotten to silence his phone and it's started buzzing. He ignores it.

"Seen what," he says, very levelly. Smiling firmly. Not at all panicking. Ignoring his students' exchanged glances.

"The song."

"It's a diss track," says another student.

"Sorry, yeah, the diss track."

The entire lecture hall is faintly vibrating with anticipation.

"Is there swearing?" he asks, "I mean, more than I do in class. Anything particularly offensive?"

"No, professor," she says, understanding immediately.

"Well, I suspect I'll find it pretty quickly if I check my phone just now, and that only half of you are here for Marlowe anyways, so let's just put it on, shall we?"

Some kids actually cheer. "Enough of that," he says, "We're going to have a rigorous academic discussion about it afterwards." Then, because he cannot and will not help himself, he adds, "Presuming, of course, there is sufficient subject matter to engage with."

He pulls out his phone and fails utterly to hide his grin at the chorus of ooohs. Someone in the back actually shouts, "Get him, professor!"

Sure enough, the same video has been sent to him half a dozen times. He pulls it up, gets it displayed on the lecture hall's screen, and presses play.

“Alright,” he says. “Let’s see what all this fuss is all about.”

He has enough professional goodwill from years of teaching to do this kind of stupid thing, and it's nice to cash it in, sometimes. He likes to be the cool professor when he can. Even in a sweatervest.

He leans back against the lectern to watch. It's not Morpheus on screen, but a woman that Hob distantly recognizes. She's gorgeous, and apparently, given the rapturous whispers behind him, also at least a little famous. She's surrounded by takeaway containers, fiddling with her phone until music starts playing. "Good job, baby brother." She takes a sip of her beer and then wipes her mouth, and grins brightly right at the camera. "This one's for you, prof," she says, laughing.

Afterwards, the entire lecture hall is silent. Hob is silent.

"Holy shit," says a student, and Hob turns around, face burning. "She murdered you."

Hob gathers himself. He feels a little dizzy. It might low blood sugar. Or love.

"Indeed. Right. Well. Certainly a lot to unpack there." His hands are a little sweaty. It's definitely love. "This isn’t a classics class, but I know some of you are classics students and would be happy to educate us, so let’s start with that parallel made right at the start between the Lotophagi - that’s the lotus-eaters from The Odyssey - and the concept of academia as an ivory tower. Who wants to talk about that?"

Five different hands shoot up. "Wow. Okay, okay," he laughs. "Tristan, start us off."

In the next 80 minutes, he hardly gets a word in edgewise. He is, absolutely gloriously, playing discussion moderator instead of lecturer. Hob knows, feels it in his gut even now, that he will look back on this as one of the best classes he’s ever held. Students are twisting around in their chairs to engage with each other.

It is, he thinks, absolutely worth a bit of murdering.

[clatterbane]

This shit is making me a little nervous, ngl. Maybe an hour ago, I went ahead and ate this pretty yummy tteokbokki cup (with some added kimchi and cheese), which I had actually been holding off on because it usually it is likely to hit my blood sugar like a truck even with loading up on plenty of insulin beforehand. Normally I would start out with 4 units in advance, and be prepared to get like 2-4 more units in later to cover that amount of concentrated particularly high glycemic rice carbs. By this time after eating it, I would likely be reaching for the insulin as the graph is shooting up into the red above the top range lines there. It's enough of a PITA that I just haven't felt like dealing with that enough to eat the thing.

But, tonight? One unit in advance just because it felt like maybe I shouldn't push my luck that hard to go totally without, and this is what the graph is doing:

(That's a new sensor put on yesterday, and it's wanting to be particularly noisy in the readings. Just ignore the aggravating spikiness of that line. I have double checked by finger sticks to calibrate, and it is accurate enough down the middle.)

Going by recent experience, I may actually need to grab a sweet snack before long, to keep that one freaking unit of insulin for a carb-dense meal from crashing my blood sugar right about when I want to go to bed.

Yeah, my three (3) remaining beta cells have apparently all decided to wake up at the same time recently, and go back to work cranking out their own insulin specifically in response to eating. And particularly later in the day. They seem to be night owls too.

It's apparently not unusual for later-onset folks like me to keep some level of insulin production going for longer. Which can change unpredictably.

Don't know if you can even call it a "honeymoon" at this point, since I do seem to be Stubborn Beta Cells Georg. They are still pulling this shit over 15 years in. That's kinda how the extended NHS medical negligence didn't just flat out kill me much faster. Kept limping along with just enough production to keep me progressively sicker and developing complications but only half-dead until that huge crash. Don't know how they managed it, or how they are this persistent even after it looked like they had finally keeled over for good. But, they're still going enough normally that I the endo has been surprised at how relatively little insulin I do normally need.

Some decent backup does seem to have let them recover enough to occasionally come back to work part time, though. This is just the biggest effort they've put in again so far. It's fucking weird.

Impossible to tell when that stubborn handful of beta cells will decide to go back on strike again, of course. But yeah, may as well take advantage of it while it lasts. Thus the post-midnight rice cake snack to begin with!

Maybe I should go ahead and cook some of the real deal over the weekend. I bought some tteokbokki a while back, because I do love it, but hadn't quite psyched myself up to fix it yet. May go for a cheesy variation, because why not.

Not my pic, but it is making me hungry.

[the-demon-of-a-thousand-eyes]

𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒟𝑒𝓂𝑜𝓃 𝑜𝒻 𝒶 𝒯𝒽𝑜𝓊𝓈𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝐸𝓎𝑒𝓈 𝒞𝒽𝒶𝓅𝓉𝑒𝓇 38 Killing an Eyeful Peep Again, View Were Always Meant to Be Stares

Pairing: Alastor x F!OC (Theia, The Demon of a Thousand Eyes)

Chapter Summary: You delight in killing Edgar again, then things take a turn you hadn't anticipated.

Word Count: 4.4k

Warnings: Tentacles, Murder, Blood, Spitting, No Hands, No Eyes, Removal of Genitalia, Decapitation, Discussions of Implied SA of Minors

Edgar had never been an easy man to appease. Even from that first encounter, something seemed off about him, but he had always been careful in the beginning, at least with me.

He complained if my tattoos showed, but I explained that fresh ink always needed to be seen, and if I couldn’t show off my eye tattoos at an optometry clinic, where else would it be acceptable? While most places on Earth that I’d been had discouraged showing skin, he never did, at least on the younger women. The older you got the more he expected you to cover up, as if your age dictated how many inches of fabric you were to have covering your flesh. He always made a big deal about the length of my skirts, mocking me if they were modest, stealing glances if they weren’t.

He couldn’t keep staff, a revolving door of various women from all walks of life had come and gone in the mere six months that I’d worked there, and in that time, I saw many leave due to uncomfortable conversations, gifts, or drunken late-night texts—especially if the women were younger.

With Ellie, it started off small, too. I barely noticed at first.

She was a sweet little thing, all energy, excitement, curiosity, and smiles. His eyes always followed her, and I noticed. Of course I noticed. 

For a while, he was just keen to watch. Then, when she turned fourteen and joined our ranks, he got bolder. He seemed to have a physical space issue: he had to be within touching distance, couldn’t keep his hands to himself. They were on her shoulder, in her hair, caressing her arms. Subtle, but very noticeable to anyone paying attention.

He was always giving her things, little things, long before she had been employed with us, and sometimes these trinkets would make her uncomfortable. I didn’t see them all, but I could tell by the look on her face when she left his office some days if he’d given her something she didn’t like. She was so determined to be an apprentice with our clinic. On many occasions, I’d ask her why, why not go somewhere else. She said she liked it there, that we were nice, that Edgar was nice, but I didn’t know what to think, not for some time.

When Ellie changed, and everything changed, and he started doing it to me, the gifts started out small. 

Sweets—which I have never been partial to—consumed from his grubby outstretched palm and thanked immediately, swallowing down chalky candies with too much sugar. 

Hair ribbons, like the ones I’d seen in Ellie’s hair not long ago, in colors I had never been fond of but ones he preferred. He’d put them in himself, just how he liked, then take the mirror we used to show clients how they liked their new frames to show off his work. It was shoddy and messy, and my hair always felt greasy afterwards, but I let him, even and especially when the color of the ribbons he’d chosen clashed horribly with my clothing that day. I’d spend what felt like hours taking them out of my hair every night, wanting to burn them, throw them away, but knew that if I wore them the next day, wore them with colors that matched instead of clashed, he’d be pleased, in a better mood.

Usually that just resulted in more gifts, dolls I’d never been much for even as a child, makeup I had no interest in wearing, uniforms in colors that matched the ribbons that were too tight and too small. ‘What if customers see me in this?’ I asked, forgetting my place, and I remember he’d replied, ‘Oh no, you wear this, Iris, and no one will see you but me.’

Not long after that, he invited me to go to his house. Ellie had told me those words, those haunting words that I will never forget. ‘Never go to his house, Iris. You will regret it for the rest of your life.’ Sixteen words.  It only took sixteen words for me to understand. How I hadn’t connected the dots earlier, I’m not sure, other than just being so young, so unfamiliar, so naïve.

I'd never seen him or his wife after that night, the one where I cut off his hands and gouged out his eyes, the one where his wife caught me in the act of partaking in my new favorite snack and chased me into an alley with a kitchen knife, stabbed me over and over again and left me to bleed. I never thought to look for him, cared what had happened, not until I'd told Alastor and Ombre about him.

Now I want to kill him again.

You’re back on that same derelict  rooftop in the abandoned territory just outside of the Entertainment District, your hair whipping in the wind once more, thoughts of your first kill swirling around like smoke. Alastor stands beside you, his own tousled gently in the breeze, and Ombre is billowing slightly about your shoulders. It’s early morning this time, the Hellish ‘sun’ just peaking above the horizon, beginning to bathe the sky in the bright, blood red familiar to Pentagram City’s skyline. Behind the same door from before, you hear muffled grunts, and the sound makes your eyes flash that familiar red in anticipation. “Mes rois, who do you have behind that door for me?” You raise an eyebrow. “Is it who I think it is?”

“He was a difficult man to find, ma très chère, but with some determination and patience, I succeeded. How he managed to survive fifteen years in such a state is a feat in itself that I didn’t bother to learn. You’d think it would have been easy to track down a sinner that arrived in Hell with no eyes or hands.”

Yours flash red again, and you grin wickedly, pulling Alastor into a passionate kiss. When you’re panting for air, you break it to purr, “You brought me my first kill to do it all again.”

“But of course!” Alastor says with stars in his eyes despite the morning hour. “Anything and everything for you, nostre âme soeur.”

“Anything.” Ombre echoes from around your shoulders, “Anything for you, our majesty.”

You feel the urge to swoon as you fall into his arms and kiss him with fervor, then turn your head and do the same to Ombre.

A thud against the door brings you back to why you’re here; you sigh with a happy smile. “I suppose it’s time to move on to the main event now anyway.”

“Lead the way, nostre reine. I look forward to the show!” He says with a wicked grin, and yours matches his intensity as you look back at him.

“A dazzling performance, I have no doubt, our majesty.” Ombre purrs into your ear.

You take a few steps and open the door. The thumping sound comes not from a body bag like last time, but a struggling man tied to a chair. He’s gagged and bound, fighting against his bindings. He looks quite different from the last time you saw him, dead in his living room. Just as Alastor had described, he has no hands, and when his head tilts up to look in your direction instead of eyes, deep, hollow sockets meet your gaze. You drag the chair deeper into the room so that Alastor can walk in behind you. He watches you intently, and you wink with one of the eyes on the back of your horns as you step towards the sinner in the chair. Ombre stays draped around your shoulders. You suspect this is their new favorite place to be. For the fun of it, you remove the gag from his mouth. For this conversation, you’ll want him to be able to speak. The first sounds that pour from his lips are guttural and angry, and you chuckle, amused. “Now, now Edgar. That’s hardly the way to talk to one of your old apprentices. Don’t you remember lil’ old me, hm?”

His eyeless sockets stare hollowly at you, and while you can’t read his expression, you know there’s no recognition there as he spits, “Never seen a freak like you. Think I’d recognize one pretending to be one of my employees.”

You chuckle again and then, with a glint in your eyes and a bend at the waist, your human disguise slips over your features. You now have pale skin, two brown eyes in their normal locations on a human, a set of rather sharp but not too sharp teeth in a wide-set mouth, a pert nose, and shoulder-length black hair. Instead of the eyes that litter your body, tattoos of them cover your arms. “Does this ring any bells? Sure, I’m sixteen years older by now, so you’ll have to excuse me no longer looking like your type, of course, but one can only stay fourteen for a year, after all.”

You don’t need to read his eyeless sockets to see the jerk in his body at the sight of you. “Iris. Thought those freaky-ass eye tattoos were on theme. Now I know you’re a fuckin’ witch. It all makes sense.”

You cackle. “How cute. No, I’m not a ‘witch’ as you so stupidly put it.” You let your human disguise fall. “For someone who’s been in Hell for fifteen years, you sure don’t recognize a hellborn very well. Now before you get any grand ideas, I didn’t come up to Earth just to kill you in particular. Don’t go getting a big head now, silly little sinner.” You smirk as you run your fingers through his hair just so you can yank it up by the roots, pull it taut until it rips from the follicles. 

“You hurt so many people. I didn’t need to see the acts to know that. Ellie was enough. You were so careful with her. It was obvious to me that if you’d done it to Ellie, you’d done it to others, and you would do it again. So when you turned that revolting gaze on me, I knew I had to have those eyes in between my teeth.” You lean in close so he can look at you through the holes where his eyes should be. “You want to know something? It was the best snack I have ever eaten or will ever eat. I’m almost disappointed I don’t get the pleasure of doing it again. Eyes have always been my favorite because of you. It’s the only good thing you’ve ever done for anyone. So thank you for that, Edgar.”

A beat of silence, excluding the grunting coming from him as he tries to struggle from your grasp. “What,” you croon as you let your other hand cup his cheek and dig your claws into the flesh of his jaw, tiny droplets of red trickle and fall from where you snag him, “not going to tell me ‘you’re welcome, Iris,’? Can’t even manage to be polite when you’re bound to a chair for me? How rude. I see you truly haven’t changed. Good. This will be extra fun then.”

“W-what are you going to do to me?” He stutters out, and you spit in each of his eye sockets as he gags.

“Nothing you don’t deserve.” You shrug as you bat all seven eyes on your face. “The wounds I inflicted upon you to cause you your death were for Ellie and myself. The wounds I will inflict today, however, will be for everyone else you hurt. See, I never forgot about you since I came home to Hell, but I decided I didn’t care to track you down. I didn’t own your soul, so what was the need? It had been so long; I had expected you’d met the unfortunate end of an angelic spear, but that would have deprived me of this wonderful experience of a reunion. Aren’t you so happy to see me, Edgar? Tell me you’re happy to see me.”

“Fuck you, you psycho bitch.” He spits again, and you cackle as you use your claws to tear off one of his ears.

As he wails, you offer it to Alastor, who declines it with a chuckle. You shrug, and let it drop to the cement below you. “You may have lost an ear, but your tympanic membrane is still intact. So listen closely. Do as I say, or your death will take far longer and be far more unpleasant than necessary. Behave, and I’ll end you quickly; you can respawn and go about your shitty little sinner existence for the rest of time.”

He stutters out pathetically, “W-what do you want from me?”

Your eyes flash red and you chuckle darkly. “I don’t want anything from you. I’m here to kill you, plain and simple. I’m here to enjoy it just as much or more than I did the last time.” You say as you rip open his shirt, buttons popping off and flying in every direction. “I’m going to take my time with you, time your stupid bitch of a wife didn’t allow me last time.”

“Leave my wife out of this, you fuckin’freak!” He bellows, and as you grab his hair fiercely, you spit into his sockets again, then shove his head forward so it dribbles out onto his face like tears. Then, just because you feel like it, you tear the other ear off and drop it next to its mate on the cement below.

“I’d hardly call myself the freak, Edgar. You’re the one with no eyes, no ears, and no hands, after all.” You smirk. “Besides, I wasn’t the one who brought your idiotic wife into this. She did that herself when the bitch thought it was a smart idea to chase a girl who’d torn into her husband with her bare hands into an alleyway. She tried to stab me to death, and if I’d been more bloodthirsty, I’d have killed her too. How she didn’t care that the blood was black though? She’d either seen some shit or knew a thing or two. No human reacts normally when they see demon blood. Except her. She just kept stabbing. She’s either stupid, or isn’t the wife you thought you married. Is she down here yet? Can I kill her too?” Ombre chuckles in your ear and you shiver.

“I said leave my wife out of this!” He roars this time, so dig your nails into his chest and carve your alias into his flesh. As he howls and whimpers, you unbutton his trousers and yank them off his hips. “W-what are you going to do to me?”

“You already asked that question, and I already answered it: nothing that you don’t deserve.” You huff out another laugh. “However, this time, I think I’ll elaborate. See, all of this started because you had an urge that you refused to ignore. I, on the other hand, was taught to ignore my urges. As a lady, and as royalty, one must be prim and proper at all times. One must be aware of how one is perceived. Hmm,” you think aloud for a moment, “maybe that’s why I have eyes on the back of my head.” You shrug with a laugh and a wink towards Alastor, who smirks back at you in turn, leaning on his microphone to continue to watch the show. Ombre chuckles in your ear as you continue. “So I saw the way you looked at Ellie, even when you were blind to it. I didn’t have to witness what you’d done to her. The words she said to me that day when you invited me to your home were enough for that. 

“You touched her with your hands, so I tore them off of you. You looked at her with your eyes, so I gouged them from your skull and ate them. You wouldn’t listen, so I’ve torn off your ears. Next, I’m going to tear off your tiny little dick, since that was what you were thinking with when you thought it was a good idea to touch her and all the other little girls you abused. Then, I’m going to tear out your tongue for the nasty things you said to them. Lastly, I’m going to tear your limbs off your body, and then, when you’re nothing but a torso and a head, I’ll pluck it off, box it up, and mail it to your wife.”

He’s uttering out pleas that you’ve chosen to ignore and whimpers, fighting the bonds that have kept him firmly in place this whole time. You turn to Alastor, who has been watching with a rapt and delighted expression through the entirety of your little show. “Ma moitié, did your search prove fruitful in regards to the whereabouts of this filth’s pathetic little wench?”

“I’d have her here too, nostre reine, but due to an inconvenience, she is still where you last saw her.”  Alastor’s face remains neutral with that unwavering smile, but you notice his ears are pressed against his skull in irritation.

“It was rather annoying not to be able to have them both for you to slaughter, our majesty.” Ombre murmurs into your ear.

“Hmm, an irritating inconvenience, but not a bother. I have friends in useful places.” You say with a smirk. “All it means is in the meantime I’ll have to make room in our freezer, and you have to promise not to eat him.”

Alastor chuckles from his place behind you as Edgar makes noises of protest that you continue to ignore. “Of course not, ma très chère, I’d never. The torso and limbs will be sufficient for Rosie’s soiree this afternoon.”

“I hadn’t heard there was a party.” You say casually as you tear open the sinner’s trousers, exposing him to the dingy lighting of the room. Edgar is bitching and moaning, but you’re still ignoring him, your ears trained on the conversation with Alastor.

“Last minute arrangement. Rosie invited us both to attend.” He tries to look aloof, but you’re not falling for it.

“A fun night to be had for all, to be sure, our majesty.” Ombre says quickly—too quickly.

You narrow the eyes on the back of your horns at him. There is more he isn’t telling. He’s usually not so tight-lipped about such things. You peel off the sinner’s shoes and then his trousers. “Is there a dress code expected for such an event? I’ll just transform mine, of course, but are you anticipating needing to change?”

“No need, bien-aimée. I am dressed for any occasion as always.” He says with a wink, and you know for a fact he’s hiding something, but decide to let it go for now, as you have a victim to torment.

“We’re not done talking about this.” You tell him with a knowing look, then, even as your gaze is still focused on Alastor, you tell the soon-to-be-corpse in front of you, “You’ve been given a generous reprieve. Now that ends.” Edgar makes more sounds of protest, words you let blend into the background as you smirk up at him. You pull on the collar of your dress and unleash The Thousand Eyes. His eyeless sockets look back at them in horror. “Oh, you remember me now, do you?” You cackle, and your tentacles shiver in the anticipation of fresh blood. “The Thousand Eyes remember you too. They’re eager to tear you apart again. We’ll start with that tiny little dick of yours, as promised.”

Your tentacles, acting on their own accord but knowing your intent, wrap around each of Edgar’s limbs and one of them around that smudge of a dick that wasn’t even half the length of your hand. Edgar inhales in a panic, and the tentacle wrapped around it tears it from him without warning. Your laughter bubbles from you, maniacal and unhinged, and you delight in the howling wails that emerge from his lips.

The tentacle holding it wiggles it in front of his eyeless sockets in amused glee. “It’s not even the length of one of my fingers. A true representation of yourself.” The tentacle drops it to the ground, but not before running it across Edgar’s mouth, his own blood painting his lips.

You laugh as a mixture of your saliva and his blood spills into his mouth and he gags, nearly hurls. You cackle louder and sneer. “Now, arms or legs first?”

“N-neither, please, j-just let me go!” He cries out and you laugh harder.

“Very well then, one of each it is!” You sing joyfully, then realize something. “Oh, but I promised your tongue next! Guess that means those were your last words!” A tentacle forces his lips apart and then into his mouth, and you feel it wrap around his tongue. You grin maniacally, then feel it pull as it removes the muscle from inside, then within the same breath, you rip his right arm and leg off at the same time.

The whimper and wail that escapes his lips is something you revel in, and you hum to yourself as you wait for him to quiet and his breathing to calm, just so you can hear it all start again. “Now the other two!” You cheer as a giggle bursts from your lips, and you see Alastor’s smile widen with amusement. Ombre rumbles against you in a purr.

The sound mirrors the first, but is somehow more pathetic, more desperate. Blood sprays from both wounds and you take a step back, preventing it from getting on your clothes. “I have a date tonight. It’d be rude of you to soil my dress, now wouldn’t it?” You raise a brow then narrow your eyes. “Any last words before I kill you? Oh, I forgot. I tore out your tongue. That’s okay. I can speak them for you. ‘I was a terrible man, Iris. Thank you for killing me again to teach me a lesson and remind me of how I should behave in Hell.’ Why you’re very welcome, Edgar. Such kind words from a man like you. I didn’t know you had it in you! That must have come from such a deep place inside. May you find comfort knowing that I’ll scar your wife with your earless, eyeless, and tongueless decapitated head.” You wait until the words sink in, until the look in those hollow cavities where eyes should be widen in panic and fear, then you lick your lips. Your tentacles wind around his neck, squeeze once, twice, and then pull.

The job is finished, and you are pleased, but you look forward to presenting this gift to his wife, to be sure. Your tentacles drop the head into your hands, and you set it in his groin as you stride over to Alastor, appendages waving at him. “Your gifts get better and better every time, ma moitié.” You tell him. “You speak nothing but the truth. I love you so impossibly much.” You kiss him deeply, then leap into his arms, knowing he will catch you, and of course, he does. You giggle girlishly, delighted in how well today has gone so far. “Marry me?” You ask as a tease, as a joke.

He nearly drops you for a second, then sets you down on your feet. You blink, confused, as he narrows his eyes at you. Where is this going? You wonder in a panic. Have I done something wrong?

“You don’t get to ask that question first.” He sighs, but you can tell that there is nothing but love and affection in that gaze of his, so you relax. “It wasn’t supposed to happen like this, but here we are.” What? What does he mean? What is he talking about? Then suddenly, next to the fresh corpse of your first kill, Alastor drops to one knee. You almost scream. Is this actually happening? “Iris, bien-aimée, Theia, nostre âme soeur,” he breathes out as he reaches into his pocket to pull out a ring box, “would you do me the greatest honor of being my bride?”

This time, you do scream, and tears escape all seven of the eyes on your face. You have to blink them away to even see the stunning ring he offers you as he opens the box in his hand. The stones are shaped like an eye, the band like antlers. “Yes,” you say the instant you see it, “yes, Alastor, of course I want to marry you!”

Alastor lifts the ring from the box and moves to slip it onto your finger, before Ombre, who’d been purring all this time, calls out, “Wait. It’s not ready yet, Master.” Alastor raises an eyebrow at them, but passes the ring to Ombre, who takes a small piece of themself to weave it through the antlers and curl around the edge of the eye. They pass it back to Alastor, who slips it onto your finger. “Now whenever you are wearing it, we will always know where you are. Not that it will matter too much, of course. You will always be by our side, our majesty, our fiancé.”

Tears prick your eyes again as you stare at it. “It’s perfect.” You murmur breathlessly, and kiss them each in turn, and then again. A moment of realization hits you as you break from it to breathe. “The soiree was where you were supposed to propose.” A giggle escapes you. “Rosie’s going to be livid.”

Alastor blanches, his ears pinning against his skull again. “We had an entire evening planned. She’s going to be terribly put out.”

“I’m sure she’ll be kinder to you since I’m there, ma moitié, mon fiancé.” You say as you kiss his cheek, delighting as his face colors at your words. “Besides, I’m sure she’ll be quite delighted at the sight of our fresh meat for her.”

“Always the smart one, nostre fiancé.” He murmurs against your lips, and you sigh into the kiss.

While Alastor might not have meant for his proposal to go like this, you are quite pleased with this arrangement. In your heart, in your mind, in the place where one usually had a soul, you knew it was supposed to go like this, that he’d ask you to marry him next to the corpse of the sinner that had started it all. He called you Iris; he called you Theia, and he’d asked for you to marry him. It seems that like all things that concern him, that it was always meant to be like this, that you were always meant to be theirs.

A/N:

IF ANYONE WANTS TO DRAW THE RING PLEASE DO! I'D LOVE TO SEE YOUR TAKE ON THE ENGAGEMENT RING! <3

These two are such simps for my sweet Theia (and I mean rightfully so, honestly).

Chapter 39 is the afternoon that Alastor had actually planned prior to his proposal, plus a few hiccups. Chapter 40 is a continuation in the evening, which leads him to the speech he'd scripted and some unexpected guests.

Things:

Contact Theia on Tumblr at: tumblr.com/blog/the-demon-of-a-thousand-eyes

The Demon of a Thousand Eyes Youtube playlist

The Demon of a Thousand Eyes Spotify playlist

(The Spotify playlist doesn't contain spoilers as it is for the Discord Server)

See you all in the next update! Ta for now~

First || Chapter 37 || Chapter 39

[inky-starlight]

Diagnosis stuff under the cut

Okay, had my appointment with my primary- she's fantastic and did not even mention my weight once and she never has but I was just a little nervous since I've been having trouble walking and it seems like that's the Default Option for when an otherwise great doctor starts that sort of thing.

I was going to schedule bloodwork later but she decided that I hadn't eaten anything major enough and went ahead and took blood and just made a note so that if my sugars/etc are off she remembers why. Arthritis panel, thyroid panel, and paying extra attention to inflammation markers.

Had an x-ray done yesterday, went fine.

Follow up for these isn't until the 10th, but that's when I have my next psychiatrist appointment, and then I have my gyno appointment (for a separate issue) on the 8th so it'll be Appointment Week and I can prepare for that. Mom is great and is going to these appointments with me so I can calm down and also have a better chance at remembering everything.

Mom is doing pretty well with processing everything- I am trying to ease her into it a bit. I've been looking at mobility aids and how people use them and talking to her about that while telling her that it's just me wanting to cover my bases on being prepared. But I do think I need something. But I think by taking her to all my appointments and such, it helps her. Also she started looking into these custom shoe insoles (The Good Feet Store) that she's heard can really help people so I'm gonna do that (she's paying for it) cause literally anything helps and also she did the research on it so I want to be appreciative. If the inserts make it so that I can at least walk with mom and Nina to the park and back it'll be worth it.

Working on easing Dad into the idea of everything. It's hard to know how he's gonna take anything in particular depending on the day. There's so much of the internalized 'don't make a big deal out of it don't let anyone see it' sort of thing that I think all three of us are working with. (Also I'm watching him turn into my grandpa, his dad, every day.)