#and then by the time i go through all that trouble food was barely worth it. i have no appetite im just so so so tired and in so much pain

[caffeinatedopossum]

Wtf even is self care when you're chronically ill? What do you do when everything hurts you and you can't get help?

[escelia]

New Sibling Just Dropped

Or Danny gets willingly isekai'd into the DCU and gets a twin out of it.

I know I disappeared from the face of the earth for a bit there, and there's stuff I should probably be updating, but I come baring different stuff this time :D

Just started this for fun, and I have at least one other chapter of it done, but idk how long this bout of inspiration will last, so I'm just rolling with it for now.

@flamingpudding look! i pulled a jason todd and rose from the grave!

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

Danny was tired. The kind of tired you felt behind your eyes and in your bones, and weighed heavy with achievement. He was perched on the edge of a building in his ghost form looking over Amity Park with a soft smile as he watched Youngblood run through the park with human children, Cujo playfully on their heels. His galaxy cloak (which had been a coronation gift) billowed around his lap like a gas with stars twinkling inside. 

It had been a few years now since he took up the Crown of Fire and became High King of the Infinite Realms, and while he had accomplished many things since then, graduating from high school wasn't something on that list. It sucked that he wouldn't get to walk across the stage with Sam and Tucker, but in the face of all he'd been able to do for both Amity and the Infinite Realms, it was worth it. They coexisted now. There was still trouble every now and then, but Danny had helped the ghosts who insisted on staying in Amity Park find a place in their city where they could thrive.

Youngblood watched over the children of the city, Box Ghost started a box recycling center, Lunch Lady started a program to get food to families that couldn't afford it, and Pointdexter started reporting bullying at the school since he was already there. 

On the Realms' side, Danny shut down Walker's prison. Since it was his lair, he couldn't take it away from him completely, but it no longer housed the many ghosts the warden had considered "rule breakers." He'd given Walker a new set of rules to enforce and essentially took him under his wing as a royal soldier, kept under the close watch of Fight Knight, who'd defected from Pariah Dark so fast after his defeat that it was laughable. 

He'd done something similar with Skulker, though he was a harder case to crack. Unlike Walker, who was happy as long as he had a set of rules to enforce, Skulker wanted to keep hunting. He'd been recruited forcefully by Walker and Fright Knight after they caught him on his way to fight Danny again.

All in all, everything had begun to run smoothly now. The fatigue weighing on him reminded him that it had been hard to accomplish, and continuing to lead his double life hadn't made it any less exhausting. A cold breath rushed through his chest as he felt a familiar presence slide up next to him. 

"You didn't time out," Danny pointed out without looking to face the ghost beside him. Clockwork hummed in acknowledgment.

"Sometimes it's pleasant to watch time flow in person." It was Danny's turn to hum at him. 

"How are you feeling?" The Ancient asked thoughtfully. The younger ghost tilted his head pensively. 

"It's hard to say. I'm tired, but I'm happy. And also sad..." he paused to gather his thoughts. "I feel like I've done everything I needed to."

But not everything he wanted to do. 

"Go on," Clockwork pressed. The teenager did turn his head now to make a face at his mentor. If the guy knew how he felt and what he was going to say, why would he say it out loud? But the other just arched a brow at him and waited.

"Fine," he pouted. "I've spent so much time and energy finding places for everyone here. The GIW are gone, my parents stopped hunting ghosts, Jazz got into the psychology program at Stanford, Sam and Tucker are graduating today... I helped make that happen, I know I did! But they're moving on without me. They're growing up and I don't feel like I am."  

'I don't feel like I'm ready.'

Danny stopped to take a breath and wipe away the icy tears gathering in his eyes. He felt stupid for crying over it. He was 17 for Ancients' sake! Jazz would have told him he grew up too fast, but he still felt like a child. He had no idea what he was doing! And yet! And yet... he felt...

"But you also feel ancient, right? Like you've been around too long and seen too much?" Clockwork said as though he were reading from a script. Danny sulked. Stupid time ghost with his dumb Time Stream TV or whatever. 

"Yeah..."

"All Ancients feel that way. Though you may be feeling unbalanced in more ways than one because of how young you died and the fact you are half human."

"What do you mean?" Danny turned his whole body to face him now, tucking his knees under his chin and circling his arms around them. His cloak moved with him in inky black wisps and settled around him again like clouds of galaxies. 

Clockworks form shifted to that of a child.

"You feel young because you died young. However, it is the nature of humans to grow and change. While you may have died at 14, your childhood died before that. You yearn to grow and learn, while also being an incredibly powerful Ancient."

He supposed that made sense. He recalled all the years cleaning the lab before the portal had even been built, and the fighting and neglect (Jazz's words, not his) that spawned his disdain of Christmas even longer before. He wanted to go back to school. He wanted a reason to love Christmas. He wanted pets and family dinners that didn't come alive. He wanted to grow up properly.

"But you still want to help people," the ghost said as though Danny had been talking out loud or having his mind read. 

"I hate it when you do that," Danny complained. Clockwork just smiled smugly.

"I know." He laughed at the glare Danny threw him. 

"I have a proposition for you," the older ghost began. Danny perked up in intrigue. "I know of another earth dimension with some problems that need to be addressed. Your role as High King puts you in a position to be helpful."

"Their problem has to do with the Realms?"

"In a manner of speaking, yes. Ectoplasm from the Realms is pooling into what are referred to on their planet as Lazarus Pits. They are both helpful and harmful as they do not dissipate into the air so they continually collect and concentrate emotion, but they do sometimes revive the dead."

Danny grimaced in disgust at the thought of dunking a person into a stagnant pool of contaminated ectoplasm. "That sounds disgusting."

"Quite," Clockwork agreed. 

"So what's your proposition?"

"Well, if it is agreeable to you, I would like to de-age your physical form and place you with a family that's had dealings with the Pits firsthand. I've found them to be quite charming." 

"Ah, so you want me to go in undercover?" Danny couldn't help but roll his eyes a little. It wasn't a half bad idea. He could try his hand at childhood again and still get to handle his duties as King Phantom. Leading a double life again would be easy enough, it was just stepping from one role into another. 

"Not at all." Clockwork smiled knowingly. Danny was officially suspicious of his ghost guardian. "This planet has had all kinds of dealings with the occult, and even humans with superpowers isn't that unusual. While I would advise against telling anyone you are a king right away, you are in fact just that: a king. You may do what you wish." 

For an ancient and wise time ghost, Danny thought Clockwork was really shit at hiding his expressions. Though he tried to keep the grin off his face, Danny could clearly see the twitching of his lips and gleam in his eyes that promised the old man was scheming. 

But to get his childhood back. Or, at least a semblance of one... it deserved consideration. Danny looked back out at the cityscape again. Sam and Tucker... they were down there graduating from high school without him. He'd been the one to encourage them to pull away from Team Phantom activities to zero in on their studies, but he didn't regret it. Sam wanted to major in environmental science and Tucker wanted to go to MIT and he just didn't fit into those plans. After Jazz left for Stanford, his parents often forgot he was still there. He'd managed to convince them to study ghosts properly instead of hunting them, and with a little help from the "friendly ghost King Phantom" they were given a place to start. They dove into their research with the same excitement and fervor they'd had all their lives. Which of course meant he went days, sometimes weeks, without seeing them emerge from the lab. It was easy enough to slip past them to the portal while they were distracted. 

The point was that he'd started to feel his anchor to this city, to this realm, start to dissipate as the people who kept him there started to break away from him. He still loved them, wanted to protect them, but they were safe and happy now. He felt fulfilled in his task of protecting them, but there was a buzzing beneath his skin to do more. 

Danny took a deep and controlled breath. He didn't need it in his ghost form, but it felt good to feel his lungs stretch to fullness. 

"When would I start?" He asked finally. The straight face Clockwork had been trying to keep, and he really was so bad at it, finally broke into a wide grin. 

"Right now. Everything is already in place and your duties in the Realms will be taken care of in your absence." 

Danny smiled softly at his guardian. Clockwork sure had a funny way of showing it, but he cared so deeply for the boy next to him that when Danny responded with a bad pun, he couldn't even be annoyed. 

"Well, no time like the present!" He winked.

Clockwork chuckled, and with a flash of light, he sent Danny on his way. 

The more time the older ghost spent with his young ward, the more he appreciated him. The Danny he’d come to know was nothing like the Danny’s from other worlds he’d encountered while trying to prevent Dan from existing. His Danny was now truly one of a kind. None of the others, not even the ones that eventually turned into Dan, had been Ancients. There would never be another Danny like him, and every universe was adjusting to include him should he ever decide to visit them. He had a place in any world, should he choose, but Clockwork knew he was needed most in the one he’d sent him to. It would be truly entertaining to watch the young Ancient settle into his role there, and Clockwork was actually finding himself looking forward to it.

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

It was dark and quiet a long while before Danny opened his eyes. And when he did open them it got really loud and really bright really fast. It belatedly occurred to him that he should have asked like a billion more questions before agreeing to be iseaki’d into a different dimension to join a family he knew literally nothing about. 

There was shouting before someone in what looked like a ninja cult uniform shoved a knife into his hand and pushed him in the path of a person in a different uniform. The man in front of him was dressed in blue and black and wearing a mask that covered his eyes, but Danny could see the surprised shape of his mouth before it morphed into something like anger. And then he was being lunged at.

He shrieked as he dodged out of the way. Not his most graceful save, but whatever. His voice was a bit shrill and his center of gravity felt way off. He must have actually been de-aged! He wondered how old he was now. He still felt light on his feet thanks to his ghost half which felt blessedly intact. But the other guy was fast and he ducked into a roll just in time to dodge whatever weapon he was holding. This guy meant business, but he had no idea why he was trying to kill him. 

‘Great, thanks Grandfather Clock for throwing me right back into the good ol’ days,’ he thought sarcastically. Nobody had attacked him for no good reason like that since Walker and Fright caught Skulker mid hunt for the very last time. 

What he now saw was a baton swung down from overhead and Danny knew he wouldn't dodge it in time, so he caught it with the flat of the blade that had been shoved into his hands.

“Wait! Why are we fighting?” Danny yelled, panicked as the guy pushed more force into it. The man's face twisted into something like confusion for a moment and he backed off just the tiniest bit before the scuffing of shoes to his right had him looking over just in time to see another guy in a mask, this time in red, rushing at him. He threw his hands up in surrender. 

“Wait!” He shrieked before he was absolutely bodied sideways into the ground. 

Why was he doing this? He was half ghost, he could have just gone intangible and disappeared. He didn't have to be body slammed into the ground. Wasn't he a child now? Did that guy in red actually just slam a whole child into the ground? 

“Red, hold on! This one's different!” 

“What do you mean?” The guy Red asked. He was still pinning Danny to the ground.

“Yeah, what do you mean?” Danny asked breathlessly, then whimpered, “Someone please tell me what's going on!” 

The one hovering over him must have seen something on his face that convinced him to not try and kill him anymore, because he grabbed him by the collar and started dragging him along. 

“We'll take him in for questioning. Don't let Robin see him.”

“Who's Robin?!”

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

It had been a long, arduous, and confusing journey from wherever they were to… well, wherever they were now. They'd blindfolded him for the transport so he still had no idea what was going on. He had learned that the guy with batons was Nightwing, and Red was actually Red Robin. The one they called Robin was a feral looking thing with swords, he was very small and stabby. Then there was Batman, and he totally threw off the whole bird theme but was easily the most intimidating. And that was all he knew so far. He'd been restrained at an interrogation table. 

Danny groaned and knocked his forehead onto the table. He really, really wished he'd asked Clockwork more questions. He'd at least been able to catch a glimpse of himself in the glass behind Batman. He looked like he was eleven or twelve again, which was not as young as he'd been expecting, but much more preferable than being a literal toddler. The group of people he’d been brought in by seemed to be heroes. They were all incredibly weary of him, but hadn’t gone out of their way to harm him since his capture. Though it was hard to call it a capture when there wasn’t a chase involved. 

“How old are you?” Batman asked suddenly. His voice was low and rough and somehow Danny could tell it didn't sound like that naturally. 

“Um, maybe eleven or twelve?” Danny replied carefully, picking up his head from the table and having the decency to look a little embarrassed. 

“And what's your name?” He looked like he was expecting something.

“My name is Danny, sir.” 

“Hmm…” 

It was quiet and awkward for a long moment.

“Why are you different from the other clones?” 

“Yeeeaaah, I'm not a clone.” Danny absolutely did not jump when the brute slammed the file folder shut in front of him. 

“We'll see what your DNA results have to say about that,” he said confidently before turning to leave, his cape dramatically flaring out behind him.

Sheesh, and he thought he’d had a flair for the dramatics.

‘Okay, time for some assessment,’ Danny thought to himself as he looked around the small closed room. It was soundproofed incredibly well. While he didn’t have super crazy hearing, it was enhanced by his ghost half, and combined with his other sharp senses, it tended to help him gather more information than others could. The most he could hear outside the room was a quiet hum of activity and nothing discernible. Still, he needed to decide how much he would say to these people. How much truth did he want to weave into his tale? These people clearly already had their own assumptions about him in mind, and while there was absolutely nothing wrong with being a clone, he knew he didn’t have what it took to keep up an act like that for long, which would just end up being awkward for everyone. 

He also would not be telling them about his status as Ghost King, per Clockwork’s suggestion. His captors seemed like the uptight sort, and revealing that he was a big, scary ghost monarch didn’t seem like it’d go over well. Telling them he was a halfa would probably get them off his back over the clone thing, at least. He went over the list in his head.

He was a halfa from another dimension, so he couldn’t be a clone.

He had no plans of fighting with anyone unless absolutely necessary. 

He did not have a way back to his other dimension. 

His name was Danny, and he didn’t have a family anymore.

He did not know why he was in the middle of whatever fight he woke up in. 

No, he didn’t know those people.

Danny must’ve been lost in thought for quite a while because his thoughts were interrupted by Batman bursting back through the door. The man’s demeanor had changed completely and he whipped off his cowl to reveal disheveled dark hair, blue eyes, and an expression of absolute heartbreak that accompanied his shuddering breaths. With the mask off, he reminded Danny a lot of his father. 

Batman searched his face and, much like Red Robin had before, seemed to notice something there. 

“She did it twice,” he muttered to himself. “Two of them this whole time and she didn’t tell me about either of them,” he said through gritted teeth. His frown deepened. Danny copied his frown. 

“Hey, are you okay?”

He still had no idea what was going on.

[hillbillyoracle]

So you can't get out of bed...

This is a resource list for all those who are having trouble getting out of bed. Whether that's because of injury, disability, or mental health, this collection of resources should help address some of the common pain points I've experienced over the years. Some will require modification if truly bedbound but my hope is this sparks ideas and gives you a place to start.

A warning: this is a *long* post. I went for thoroughness over brevity so people had options where possible.

Food

This video from Sarah McGlory of Adaptive Cleaning details her system.

It is excellent. I have a similar bin to her first in my room for high pain and low mood days. Prioritize high fiber and high protein shelf stable foods. Make sure electrolytes and water are within easy reach.

If grocery trips are too much, it's worth looking into pick up or delivery. In my experience, the delivery services through stores are better than Instacart and the like. The retailer who must not be named also has a great snack selections that hold up pretty well in transit.

Fruit + veggie pouches, baked chips, and RXBars are some of my favorites to keep on hand.

Clean Space

This video from KC Davis of Struggle Care details her "Five Things Tidying Method".

If you can't tidy your whole space, focus on the walkways. Make sure you have a walkway to your bedroom door, to your front door (or other way to leave your house), to the bathroom, and to the kitchen or where you store food.

Another tip from KC Davis - if you're struggling to get your plates back to the kitchen before they stick or attract bugs, get gallon sized plastic bags and seal the plates inside of them. You can always wash and reuse them once you've delivered it safely to your sink or dishwasher. When you're just surviving, it's just as okay to toss them after.

Bonus: This no-mess method of decluttering from Dana K. White is low energy friendly. You can stop whenever and your space is still better.

Hygiene

This post details my care kit that I use.

If you're unable to shower regularly, I'd add in some baby wipes. Yours probably won't look exactly like mine but I hope it can be a jumping off point. If I could only pick two items, it'd be the disposable toothbrushes and a good facial lotion (since it can also be used on the body). If you can't bare to change your clothes, just change your underwear. This helps prevent health issues down the road.

Movement

Arm Workout in Bed: [3 Min] [5 Min] [10 min]

Core Workout in Bed: [3 Min] [5 Min] [10 Min]

Leg Workout in Bed: [3 Min] [5 Min] [10 Min]

Yoga in Bed: [Morning] [Anytime] [Evening]

Stretching: [5 Min] [10 Min]

If you're able to stand + move but not up for leaving your room, then Rick Bhullar's walking workouts are great in a small space.

For a long time, I thought that you could only get exercise by getting dressed in specific clothes and going outside or to a gym. Now I know that there are lots of options for getting a little movement in bed. Even a short 3 min workout a day can help decrease muscle atrophy. Don't let perfect be the enemy of good enough.

Bonus: I also just walk laps around my room/apartment. You don't have to go outside. It can get a little boring sure. But quick 5-10 min walking breaks through out the day add up.

Spirituality

This is ultimately going to be specific to you and your tradition. Even if you are not religious at all taking a moment to think about your bigger picture values is important. Since my core spiritual path is Buddhism, here are some recommendations in that vein. I could not find good links for all of these. I don't necessarily do all of these everyday but I try to do a few.

Three Refuges by Plum Village

The Five Precepts by Access to Insight

The Five Remembrances on Wikipedia

Chanting Om Mani Padme Hum

Chanting Namo'valokiteshvara

Reciting the Heart Sutra

Bonus: A pagan practice I enjoy is reciting the hymns to the planet of the day. Offering water and incense is great but optional. Praying to and thanking ancestors and land spirits is also a great practice.

Alternatives to Social Media

It's easy to get stuck in the black hole of scrolling. It's good to have something enjoyable to pivot to.

Cozy Games

My favorites are Stardew Valley, Wingspan, and Animal Crossing. The first two aren't terribly expensive. A lower cost alternative to Animal Crossing would be Cozy Grove which regularly goes on sale. Sims can be cozy as well - minus any pool shenanigans.

Slowly

This is an app that allows you to send messages but delivers them on a delay based on how far away you are from someone. It makes it fairly easy to find penpals though, as with anything, it can be hit or miss. I've even convinced a few of my irl friends to try it and write them little letters on there. The delay makes receiving them more special. It's a great way to play letter writing rpgs with friends. I'm currently using it to play Grandpa's Farm with my partner.

750 Words

Ever wished you could do morning pages digitally? That's what 750 words started out as being but you can ultimately use it however you want. Some people use it to hit word counts on their writing projects. I'm a fan of using it to brain dump and then micro journal. It does cost a small fee after 30 days but it's by far been worth it to me.

FeederWatch

Getting outside - even if it's just for 5 minutes - once a day is a great goal. But if you can't, take a break and watch one of these feeder streams for a while. Even just seeing images of the outdoors, is calming. I sometime throw this up on one screen while I'm playing a cozy game or doing some non-screen activities.

Screen Breaks

We all know it's important to take screen breaks - but it's extra important to do it when you're in bed and you're screens are a big part of how you spend your day. Below are some of my favorite ways to take a break. 10 minutes every two hours or 20 minutes every three hours can make a big difference.

Postcrossing or writing letters to friends

Solo RPGs - here are some of mine, here's a D&D example

Free adult coloring pages

Read a Book - reading challenge, get personalized recommendations

Play a solitaire card game - there are so damn many now

Walk around for 5-10 minutes, bonus if it's outside.

Volunteer

One of the big feelings that come up for me when I'm mostly in bed is that I feel like a burden to others. Rather than trying to "be productive" I've found it's much better to try to positively contribute to others even if it's in small ways - sending a text to someone remembering/thanking them for something kind they did for me, ordering a little present for someone I know who's had a rough time, sending a card to someone who has a birthday coming up. The little stuff really helps people.

If you don't have many people in your life like that to help or you'd like to help some strangers too here are some other options.

Sigma Phi Eta

This is a 100% online and free greek service org I'm trying to get off the ground. 3 hours of service to become a pledge which count towards the 10 needed to become a member. 10 hours each year to stay active. We maintain an updated list of online/distanced volunteer opportunities as we find them. We have service awards for those who want to go above and beyond. Plus once you're a member you can wear our letters.

We're small right now but if you want a group of people to talk service and grow with - come join us!

Letters Against Isolation

LAI is probably my favorite charity I volunteer for. Volunteers write cards and letters to people in nursing homes, assisted living, and those connected to senior centers through Meals on Wheels and other programs. They're always adding new facilities so the need is always growing. They have facilities in multiple countries they write to and could use people who speak another language especially.

Warm Up America

Mostly for crocheters and knitters - this org accepts donations of all kinds of patterns and distributes them to smaller projects and charities who otherwise wouldn't be able to access these kind of goods at scale. I've made a few things for them - simple hats - and greatly enjoyed the process. Great use for your cheaper acrylic yarns.

7 Cups

I've had a mixed experience with 7 Cups. I really have enjoyed my experiences chatting with people on there but it can be really hit or miss as to whether I feel like I've helped people. There's also the usual people who try to use any chat service for sex. That aside, I still think their training is pretty good and it can feel meaningful when you're able to connect with someone who's not doing so hot.

Checklist

Have you cleaned yourself + changed clothes? [ ]

Have you tended to your spirituality? [ ]

Have you fed yourself? [ ] [ ] [ ]

Have you tended to your space? [ ]

Have you gotten some movement in? [ ]

Have you taken a social media break? [ ] [ ] [ ]

Have you taken a screen break? [ ] [ ] [ ]

Have you volunteered or done something nice for another person? [ ]

[thebestofoneshots]

Gilded Constellations | (wolfstar x reader)

Series Masterlist | Previous episode

Pairing: Wolfstar x Reader Word Count: 8.7 K Warnings: The angst is still angsting Prompt: Alone, desperate, lonely. How did you end up like this? How will you recover? Is recovering even possible? This IS a Wolfstar x reader fic, but it's incredibly slow burn. They won't start all dating each other until we're very deep into the story, but I promise the long wait will be worth it Proofread by Lovely @aremuslupinsimp

Chapter 55: Noone Together

I'm mostly scared, I am mostly unprepared, I'm a mess I lost most of myself as the waves came crashing down, I'm a wreck

I've bought up all my dreams and sold off most my heart I've been lying to myself just to bury all my thoughts

-Mostly (Vian Izac)

Monday, January 10th, 1977

You looked around your trunk until you found something that would look as wizarding as possible. You didn’t want people to spare a second glance your way, so you took a cloak and a pointy hat and pocketed your money in your trousers. There weren’t many students in Diagon at this time of the year, and you did not want to look like one. 

Thankfully you hadn’t gone out with your parents that often since you moved to England and while most people knew Silas had a daughter, they had no idea how she looked. A point in your favour, you wouldn’t have to hide. 

You would have used a warming charm, but bought tea with a warming potion instead. Accidentally burning yourself with Nina’s wand was not the way you wanted to go down. You finished it at the restaurant, the lady who did Tarot readings was sitting with a young woman, probably in her late 20s, and she was reading her cards for her, although she kept looking at you as you drank your tea. Especially when you accidentally picked it up with your injured hand and cursed loud enough for her to catch it. A waiter came around, offering you some food, but you declined, you were far from feeling hungry, if anything, you were still slightly nauseated. You could have done with a drink, though. 

When you were done, you were quick to stand up and leave the inn, walking straight towards Ollivander’s. The shop was closed and you instead walked towards The Apothecary. “I think I’ve sprained my wrist,” you told the young man on the other side of the counter. He had a pair of round glasses that reminded you of James, and short, but elegantly styled hair. 

He extended his hand and you pushed your hand towards it. He adjusted his glasses and stared, moving your hand a little and then passing his wand over it. He nodded. “It seems so. How did you know it was just a sprain and not something else?” 

“I’ve gotten hurt a few times in the past months. It felt like a sprain.” 

He looked at you and smiled. He was handsome. Not nearly as handsome as either Sirius or Remus. Not even as handsome as Minho, or Tom, but he had a straight nose and a charming smile, a la Reyansh Atwal, but Caucasian. “It was a great guess,” he said as he eventually let go of your hand and carefully placed it on the counter. He turned around and started to look through his shelves. 

“Most people come here with a terrible idea of what they have. I had a person with a cold telling me they thought they had dragonpox. And one time a person who said they’d had a broken leg when they had barely a big bruise.” He pulled one of the small doors of a cabinet open and then pulled something from the inside. “Are you from around?” 

“I’ll be staying in London for a couple of days,” you said, as you stared at what he did, almost condescendingly. He seemed to have a bit of trouble while trying to find the right thing, and you had been spoiled with the very capable hands of Madam Pomfrey just weeks past.

He grabbed a thing, and with an air of triumph, turned around. “I think I might have a pixie around here moving all my stuff,” he excused. “It’s harder when you don’t have house elves for help, you know?” 

“I suppose,” you replied, not bothering to fake much interest. 

“Allow me,” he said as he pulled back his sleeves, bending them carefully and methodically. “I’m going to put this ointment on your hand.” You nodded, although you were quite sure an anti-swelling potion, like the one he had on the left side corner would have done the trick. He placed both hands around your wrist and carefully massaged it. While you stared, you could barely stop thinking of Sirius’ firm grip, or the soft way Remus would always hold your hand. 

They are happy now, you reminded yourself, together. 

“And there you go,” he said after finally pulling apart. Your hand was still sore, Pomfrey would have probably had it fixed a lot faster. 

“Thanks,” you said with a half-smile. “Can I also get a Swellendrake Draught?” 

“For your wrist? You won’t be needing that, come back tomorrow and I’ll give you another treatment with the ointment.” 

If only you had a fucking wand, you would have done it all yourself. 

“For someone else,” you lied. “And also some Warming Brew.” 

“Oh,” he adjusted his glasses. “Of course, of course. I was under the impression you were here by yourself.” 

You hummed in return, “How much?” 

You were out of his The Apothecary the second he handed over the change. Your hand was still bringing you a slight discomfort when you used it to push the door open to The Magical Menagerie. Inside you bought food and snacks to feed Reese. An old man with a strong German accent handed you your food and change with a smile and asked you about the type of owl you had. 

You lied, telling him it was a tawny owl, but that she liked fancier treats. Reese was a barn owl, not as common and especially fancy to have as a pet since they were pickier eaters (which meant more money to maintain) and they were incredibly good hunters in low light, which meant they were especially talented at delivering letters. Had you mentioned he was a melanistic barn owl, the man would have probably begged you to meet him (they were even less common and coveted since they could blend into the night almost seamlessly). 

“Well, you better take good care of her,” he said as he packed the bag of treats. “Don’t spoil her too much, either.” 

“I won’t,” you said with a smile and handed him the money. “I’m sure Selig will love these,” you said as you raised the small bag and then walked towards the door, and then as if it were an afterthought, you turned around and looked at him, “Do you happen to know at what time Ollivander’s opens?” 

“Ollivander’s?” he asked and turned to his clock. “He should be opening now, if not you can knock on his window a couple of times, sometimes he falls asleep on his desk.” 

“Thank you,” you said as you walked towards the door. 

“Kein problem, Schatz.” 

Once outside you walked towards Ollivander’s. The door was now open, and a small bell at the top rang as you walked inside. There was no one else, as you expected. And the very peculiar smell of wood and magic prickled your senses as you walked inside. Ollivander, who was looking through some boxes, turned and seemed surprised when he spotted you. 

“Daughter of Silas.” You panicked, thinking you’d have to leave and find somewhere else to stay, perhaps muggle London. Perhaps you could ask that nice girl at Daunt Books if she knew somewhere, even if you’d have to hold back on using magic almost entirely so as not to call the attention of the ministry.  He must have seen the distress in your eyes, your careful stepping back towards the door, ready to run the fuck away, again. “Worry not, Child. I do not have any political affiliations as of now. If you wish for your identity to remain undisclosed, then so shall I maintain it…” He gave you an airy look, as if to make sure you’d stay and then proceeded. “You know, I never forget a wand, and it’s a very peculiar one that you have in your pocket.” 

“It’s not mine,” you said as you pulled Nina’s wand and placed it on his counter. “That’s why I’m here, my wand broke and I need a new one.” 

“I beg to differ,” he said simply, as he stared at Nina’s wand, he was twirling it in his wand, and inspecting the details on it. 

“Pardon?” you asked, confused. 

“You do not need a new one, Child. You said this one isn’t yours, and I beg to differ. Its loyalty belongs entirely to you.” 

You turned to look at him with a frown, “Impossible. I’ve tried using it and I almost got attacked by a chair.”

“You know this is a rather peculiar wand,” he said thoughtfully, almost ignoring what you said entirely. “14 and a half inches, English Oak,” and then, in a much lower tone, he added, “Thestral tail hair.” 

You frowned, “Thestral tail hair?” 

“Indeed, indeed. I too was surprised when the wand picked young and sweet Nina Blythe.” Your breath hitched in your throat when he said her name. He noticed. “That might be why it’s not working for you even though it’s yours.”

“I don’t think I followed.” 

“Thestral tail hair wands are fussy, it is said only witches and wizards who were capable of accepting dеath could use these kinds of wands. Miss Blythe was muggle-born,” he said. “But her father diеd in a car accident when she was about 4 years old, she was in the car with him then, she told me when I told her about core and its meaning. The wand seemed to love her almost instantly.” 

“Accepting dеath?” you mumbled. You didn’t want to do that, you didn’t want to accept what happened, even if it had. Even if you’d seen it, it was easier to pretend it to be just a terrible dream, to ignore it and fake it and–

“I’m afraid so,” Ollivander said. “I believe you’ve had some dreadful encounters with her lately and–” 

“I’d like to get another wand,” you interrupted him, a little rudely. 

“Another wand?”  he asked, confused. 

“Yes, this one won’t work. I’m sure.” 

He hummed at that, something that sounded a bit like he disagreed with you entirely. He picked the wand up again and looked at it closely. “No wand here will ever be as good for you as this particular one,” he said. “You know English Oak has an affinity with magic of the natural world? It is said the Great Merlin had a wand made of Oak.” 

You took a deep breath, and you tried not to grit your teeth, “My wand used to be oak.” 

“And? I believe I did not sell it to you…” 

“No,” you admitted. “We got it while travelling… It was thunderbird tail feather.” 

“Oh, she must have been absolutely delightful to work with,” he said, with a bit of sarcasm. “Did it take you long to get used to her stubbornness?” 

“She was never stubborn with me,” you said simply. 

“You must have had an excellent matching with it then,” he said with a bit of a mischievous smile. “I can assure you it will be as good– if not better with this one. Had you come here before Miss Blythe, you might have taken it yourself. I’d dare say it’s like she was made for you.” 

You looked at the wand with slight reluctance and then picked it up. You pointed at a small pencil on the table and whispered, “Wingardium Leviosa.” Rather than carefully floating as you intended for it to do, the pencil flew backwards and stabbed one of the shelves with a sharp thud. You quickly left the wand on the table again. “See?! it’s pointless.” 

Ollivander used his wand and whispered “Reparo,” allowing the shelf to restore itself and the pencil to return to its spot. “I’m afraid you have to accept what’s happened for her to work properly. But I cannot sell you another wand.” 

“Then how?” You said, slightly exasperated. 

“Sit down, and cast small spells with her. Like this one–” 

“I could have stabbed someone!” 

“Nature Magic has strong connections with emotions. Perhaps the magic is so aggressive because you feel like you need such protection.” 

You sighed, you’d come for a wand, not for therapy. 

“Fine then,” you said as you grabbed the wand, you were cross, Ollivander could tell. “I’ll see if I can get her to work.” 

“I’m certain you will.” 

You scoffed and shook your head as you walked out of the store. There was no way in hell you managed to do a Protean charm without a properly functioning wand, so you’d have to buy the enchanted items. 

There weren’t many places in which you’d be able to get such powerful and unorthodox magical things, but you had been paying attention and you had heard the whispers. You thought of it as your last resource since it was popular for being a reunion point for dark wizards, but you were running out of options. You’d have to pay a visit to Knockturn Alley. 

As you stepped out of Ollivanders, you blinked a few times and started to walk around. It was almost midday, and the streets were buzzing with witches and wizards, far more than there were earlier in the morning. You walked, accidentally bumping your shoulder with other people when you were pushed around. 

You knew Knockturn Alley was hidden, but it took you at least an hour to find it. It was still day, but the alley was dark, poorly lit and rather lonely. You saw a few Wizards walking inside a store that looked somewhat like a bar, one of them felt familiar enough, like he might have been at the Christmas Party. You turned your face and stared at the window of one of the shops. 

You had not seen the Borgin and Burkes logo at the top, since you had turned as fast as possible but you did see the small price ticket on one of the items in display. It read: Borgin and Burkes: Oddments and Artefacts. And then underneath it: Rarities of the best kind, antiques, charmed items, cursed jewellery and more.

The perfect place, you pretended to look through the window a bit more and when you made sure he was gone, you turned towards the door and walked inside. “Are you lost?” A young man asked from behind the counter, he had brown hair and a disagreeable face. 

“I’m exactly where I want to be,” you retorted. “I’m looking for an item,” you said, “Or rather two. They need to have a protean charm in between them.” 

The man nodded “Jewellery, a journal, matching skulls, a book or bottles?” 

“Journal,” you said. He pulled out a black journal, it had golden metal trims and a name engraved at the back.

“This one belongs to someone,” you complained as you handed it back to him. 

“But it has nothing written on it,” he retorted and pushed it back at you. You looked at the journal impassively and took it in your hands. You could feel the dark magic screaming inside of it, like it was imploring to be released, you placed it back on the table. “I don’t want it. Anything else?” 

The man grumbled something that you didn’t understand, took the journal, and placed it back onto his counter. Pulling out a pair of cufflinks, to which you shook your head. He rolled his eyes and walked towards the back of the store. You took the time to look through the things they had around. You knew better than to get too close to some of them, specifically the item named “Hand of Glory” which also had some kind of magic attached to it. 

You looked at it with an air of disgust before you continued walking, they had candles, some Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder, which you thought would be useful so you bought two bags, and there was a massive display with jewellery too. You leaned in closer, and without touching anything, started to read the label: A ring of oblivion (whoever wore it would forget everything that happened while wearing it), a pair of bad luck cufflinks, awfully similar to the ones the man had offered earlier, a magic absorbing necklace, a hairpin that would let you change your appearance, a pair of blinding glasses (they would disappear whatever you wanted from your field of vision)– hold up. A hairpin that could change your appearance? 

You looked at it again and picked it up, moving towards one of the huge mirrors and placing it on your hair. Suddenly you weren’t you anymore, you were still a woman, your age, but you looked nothing like yourself and everything like someone you wouldn’t spare much attention to. Not ugly but not pretty either, in fact, when you removed the pin and saw yourself again, you had almost forgotten what the other face looked like. 

“Fascinating item, isn’t it?” the man asked with a smile. “And much easier than making polyjuice.” 

You nodded and then turned to him. “Did you find anything?” 

“This,” he said as he pulled out a pair of earrings. You looked at him with a raised eyebrow. “These were designed for listening in to conversations. You ‘accidentally’ drop one of them and you can hear what they’re saying on the other side. I assume that will satisfy your requirements of communication.” 

“It might,” You responded, “Does it work backwards? Do both of them do it?” 

“Indeed.” 

You nodded, “I’ll take them, and the Peruvian Powder and the hairpin.” 

He smiled and wrote on a small piece of paper your total amount. You paid, and walked towards the door. When you spotted the same man from earlier loitering outside of the bar, you eyed the man in the store nervously and then turned to one of his trinkets. “What is this?” you asked as you looked at a large, triangular-shaped closet. 

The man smiled and walked behind you, “Vanishing Cabinet, they’re becoming really popular lately, lots of people want them in their house in case of a Dеath Eater attack.” 

You swallowed, he was careful when he said those last few words, as if he was trying to feel out which side of the war you played on. Thankfully, if there was anything you had learned from Silas, was that to be a good politician; you’d had to lie, and you had to lie so much lately, that it came almost naturally from you. “I bet,” you said with a mischievous smile. “Does this one work?” You asked as you looked at the small chip on the side and allowed the little bit of wood to rise and then return to its place. 

The man smiled, “As a matter of fact, it does not, a Witch brought a week ago for us to fix it, but it seems someone put a course on it, dark magic, in fact.” 

“Well,” you looked over your shoulder, the man was gone. “Good luck with that, eh… Mr. Borgin?” 

“Burke,” he corrected with an askew smile. Clearly, after he made the sale, he was not in such a terrible mood. And it had been a big sale. You still had enough cash to get by, but you’d need more for the rest of the year. You took a deep breath, you’d have to go to Gringotts. You had your own vault, which was great. Unfortunately, the minute you went, your father would probably know you’d visited, so it had to be the very last thing you did. 

“Then thank you for your help, Mr. Burke.” 

“Mr. Burke was my father, call me Kieran.” 

You frowned but smiled, pulling out a bit of that charm you had used too often with adults, it wouldn’t hurt to have an ally or two in case things went awry. 

“Thank you, Kieran,” you said and then nodded at him politely, a small smile playing on your lips as you left the place. You were quick, but calm as you exited the shop, and the minute you were out of Kieran’s sight, you put on your new hairpin and mixed yourself in between the people. 

You walked back to the Inn, took the pin off before stepping inside the Leaky Cauldron and walked straight to your room. You hadn’t eaten, and frankly, you still didn’t want to eat. You walked back to the room, and Reese was by the window with a small pack of chocolates and a small note attached to them. He flew towards your place on the bed with it and took his own place on the bed. 

“Hey, little one,” you said with a smile as you brushed your hand over his head the way you knew he liked it, and pulled open one of the bags you had to give him a couple of treats. He chirped joyfully when you did, and then leaned down and pecked the letter with his beak, reminding you to open it. 

You sighed but did it, taking the note and unfolding it. 

Are they feeding you well where you are? They better be. But I know how much you love these sweets, so I stole them from Remus to send them over. I’ll check the chimney at night, I’m sure you’ll have figured out a more than clever way to keep in touch. 

Remus and Sirius are still whispering about each other, It’s like they’re scheming something, and frankly, I’ve been feeling slightly excluded. Will you tell me what happened when we find a better way to communicate? But more important than anything, HOW ARE YOU? 

Prongs xx  

You smiled and wrote a quick note telling him to clip the earring on at about 8 pm, you sent it along with a thank you for the chocolates and then (as a joke, but not actually) asked him if he had some booze. You let Reese go back to the Potters, after giving him some more treats and walked toward the fireplace to turn it on since the temperature was going out as fast as the sunlight.

Thankfully, it was a lot easier this time around, and you curled up, staring blankly at the flames for some time. You had never been this quiet, this inactive. At Hogwarts, you were always distracted by one thing or the other. At the boys’ houses, they were the ones constantly creating new games and things, or talking or telling you something, or even reminding you of homework and things you had to finish, things you had to accomplish. 

But there, alone in the warm, but still isolated floor, you didn’t have anything to do, and you didn’t want to do anything either. You tried to pick up a book from your suitcase but abandoned it a little after. You took the journal Lily had given you and wrote barely half a page when tears started to prickle your eyes and you abandoned it as well. You couldn’t listen to music, and you didn’t even feel like trying to get Nina’s wand to work, not with what it entailed. 

Yeah, avoiding your feelings allowed you to be able to sit straight and do all the things you’d done without breaking apart, but it was also stopping you from properly processing shit, and so, rather than thinking and crying or whatever, you sat, and blankly leered at the dancing golds and yellows and reds, throwing some wood to liven up the flames as you stared, sad and disoriented, until it was eight o’clock. 

You picked up the earring and put it on your ear. On your free ear, you had the crackling of fire, on the other one, you heard the wind blow, heavy and thick, the hauntingly beautiful sound you often heard when you were flying, you missed that too. 

There was a doubtful tasking on the other side, before, clear as day you heard, “Vixen?” 

“Prongs,” you said, you couldn’t help the smile that formed on your lips. You had been so alone all afternoon, that hearing James had filled you with joy. James, on the other hand, sounded a little cross. 

“What the fuck happened?” He asked. You heard the wind become stronger, he was probably flying further away from his house. “We were all at the party and then you go upstairs and then Sirius and Remus are banging on doors and then you’re gone. I was worried sick. They didn’t want to tell me what the fuck happened and–” 

“Don’t worry about it,” you said simply. “Sirius and I–” There was a pang in your heart when you said that as if you shouldn’t say those names together. “It was nothing,” you sighed, “but we aren’t a thing anymore.” 

“I figured out as much,” James said, still angry. “Why? I thought you loved each other. I mean didn’t the two of you fuck at the fae pool just a couple of days ago? Was it because of that? Because if you thought he was bad I’m sure he can learn and–” James was rambling. 

“It was not about that!” you said before he kept going. “And we didn’t end it because he broke my heart, it was I who broke both of ours.” You sighed. “But it is for the best–” 

“Like shit, it is for the best!” James retorted. “What happened?” 

If James didn’t know, you couldn’t out them. “It’s not my secret to tell.” 

“Vixen,” he said impatiently.

“James, if this is all you’re going to talk about–” 

“No wait!” He rushed out. “How are you?” 

“I’m fine,” you said, you were sitting on the wooden floor, looking at the fire, you hadn’t eaten, and you hadn’t even showered (you didn’t want to stop smelling the Sirius and Remus in your clothes).

You heard a hesitant sigh on the other side. “Can’t I come visit?” 

“No.” 

“Why not?” 

“My mom’s friend is a bit paranoid about what happened at Christmas,” you lied. How easy did the lies come to you now, one after the other, like a parade, they rolled off your tongue and sounded loud by the end of your lips, as simple as if it were truth. Suppose telling someone you didn’t love them when you both knew you did was all it took to become such a brilliant liar. 

“Do you want to talk about that?” 

You hadn’t wanted to talk about it, not even when you actually had talked about it with Remus. Rather than responding, you changed the subject, “What did you boys do today?” 

Thankfully, James knew how to take a hint –sometimes– and he thought allowing you to process things was best either way, at your own pace. “Well, we had breakfast together and did some flying afterwards. Sirius was going really fast, I think it might have been the fastest he’s ever flown. Remus kept shouting at him to stop being an idiot and slow down.” 

“We then went back inside and Remus recommended that I read a book, but I think he just wanted me to get out of the way so he could talk to Sirius again. I wrote a letter to Lily, thanking her for coming to the party yesterday and telling her you were all right. She’s also worried and wants to contact you.” 

“Tell her I’m good,” you said. “That I cannot get letters at the moment.” 

“Already have,” he sighed. “Anyway, Remus and Sirius are awfully suspicious. Sitting close and whispering about. Can you really not tell me what happened?” 

“I’m sorry,” you said. And you really were, you wanted someone to talk to about this, but as far as you knew, you were the only person who knew about Sirius’ bisexuality and among the few that knew about Remus’. “That’s got to do with something that happened between them, I cannot talk about it.” 

“But you do know what it is!” James delated. There was still wind, and it carried his voice out a little but you could still hear the intonations you were so familiar with, you knew what he meant. 

“But if you ever do find out, then they must be the ones to tell you, James.” 

He sighed in response, leaning in on his broom and banging his head against the handle. It seemed like every single person around him was sad, and he couldn’t do a damn thing about it. He hated it. He wanted things to go back to normal, for you to be here, and for both you and Sirius to be all over each other. 

Even if he kept complaining about it, he secretly loved seeing you all happy. Even when you cuddled Moony together, invading their room, he felt it wasn’t that often that he saw Moony smile, but he was always smiling when you and Sirius were around, even when you were being annoying by asking him to read you something or convincing him to help with homework or something similar. 

“Fine, whatever,” he responded, trying not to sound too cross, he knew you mustn’t have been that well off, he could also hear your voice over the crackling of the fire, and even if you kept claiming to be alright, there was something near the end of your words, not a crack but something almost imperceptible that told him otherwise. 

He’d seen you get hit by quaffles and he’d seen you get hit by bludgers, and he’d seen you getting scratched by a werewolf. He’d seen you tired and desperately scribbling on parchment after forgetting homework. Your “All rights” had never sounded as hollow to him before. So devoid of meaning, so filled with air he was sure he could poke a hole and disinflate them entirely. 

Of course, James didn’t want that. The last thing he wanted was to push you into desperation by asking and asking questions like he used to do all the time. “Did you like the chocolate?” 

“Yeah,” you responded. “Did you get me the Booze? Will you send it over with Reese?” 

“I don’t think that’s the best idea–”  

“Oh, shut up, you’re not my mum,” you said automatically, flipping back to your old self before realising what you had said. No, James was not your mum, you didn’t have one anymore.

James hesitated, he heard the silence, the popping and hissing of the fire next to you and knew you were both thinking the same thing, he bit his lip. “I’ll get you your booze.” 

You took off the earring and promised to talk to him again tomorrow in the morning, at about 9, before the boys woke up, so they wouldn’t suspect if James went flying earlier. He could always say he had wanted to entertain himself while they slept. 

After your conversation, he flew down and looked through his stuff in the kitchen until he found an old flask and filled it up with his father’s Firewhisky. He knew you liked it and he knew he liked it. He then put it in a small bag and handed it to Reese. 

When he walked into the room, he saw Sirius writing something on a piece of paper and Remus correcting his words. They both were on edge and looked like they were about to go at each other’s throats. 

“What are you doing?” James asked, confused.

Sirius looked at him, worry in his gaze, and he placed a blank parchment on top of the other one. “I’m writing something for her,” he said simply. 

“And I can’t see it?” 

“No,” Sirius said plainly. 

“But Remus can?  I see how things are.” 

“James,” Sirius reproached, “I promise you would hate to be involved in this in the way Remus is.” 

“Well at least he’s not kept in the dark about it,” James retorted viciously. Sirius had always gone to him with his problems, he didn’t understand what this thing with Remus was, and he didn’t quite like it either. Whatever had happened, you had left his house because of the two of them, and you were far from the “All right!”  you kept claiming to be.

“That’s not fair,” Sirius replied. 

Remus stood up hastily. “This is none of my business.” 

“This is ALL of your business!” James said sternly. “I can’t be the only one that’s fucking worried about her!” Sirius scoffed and Remus remained silent as he threw a look at James. If only he knew. “I thought you were her best friend.” He threw an accusatory finger at Remus. “You’re always around, teaming up on every fucking project. You were there after the fucking Christmas Party. Why haven’t you even tried to contact her?” 

“We’ve tried!” Remus responded, voice louder. “Sirius has even tried to do whatever the hell he did with the necklace and all we get is a stupid fire and my fucking jumper. Why haven’t you tried to contact her?” 

“I have,” James said. 

“And? No answer, right?” Prongs did not say further. “Merlin knows where she might have gone off to. We might not see her again ‘til school and it’s all my fucking fault.” 

“What?” James asked, confused, he thought it was Sirius and you thing not a Sirius and Remus and you thing. Sirius threw a reproaching arm slap at Remus and James sighed. “You know what? I don’t care. If you all don’t want to tell me what the fuck happened then it’s going to be on you to fix it.” 

Sirius groaned and leaned his head over his knees. Remus gave him a pitiful look and James walked out of the room. When he was gone, Remus placed a reassuring hand over Sirius’ back. Sirius hated how damn good it felt. 

“It’s okay,” he said softly. “You’ll get her back, we’ll find a way.” 

“She’s convinced we like each other, she wouldn’t have left if she wasn’t.” 

“Then we prove her wrong, Pads.” 

“It’s not going to work,” he said and turned his head to look at Remus. His cheek was half squashed on his knee and some of his hair was covering his soft features, but Remus could easily see the glistening wet eyes.

He placed his hand on Sirius’ face and carefully pushed some of the hair back, he was being as gentle and reassuring as he had been with you the past couple of weeks, and he found himself thinking something eerily similar to what he did when he held your crying frame. 

He hated himself for thinking of how beautiful Sirius looked, for how much he wanted to kiss him and comfort him. He hated that you were right, that he really did like Sirius and it was worse to know that Sirius liked him back and that neither of them would ever do anything about it because neither of them wanted to hurt you. He forced his hand back and onto his knee, tapping on it with his index nervously. Sirius sighed a pained expression on his face, mirroring almost perfectly the one on Remus’. 

You had all reached a dеad end. You refused to go back to Sirius because your best friend was in love with him, and you thought Remus deserved the world. Sirius refused to chase his feelings for Remus because he loved you, and he wouldn’t dare to see you sad. He wanted you back. And lastly, Remus refused to lean closer and place a kiss on Sirius’ lips like he was so tempted to do, because he knew you loved him, and there was no way in hell he’d ever hurt you, you had gone through enough, seeing your boyfriend with your best friend might as well be the last straw. 

But what about Sirius? Yeah, you were thinking of him, since you thought he liked Remus and he would be happier with him. And of course, Remus was thinking of Sirius, he did all the time, but what both you and Remus failed to realise was how much strain you were putting on him. He was in love with his two best friends, and there was no way he could be with one without hurting the other.  

You had made the choice for him, you had taken his agency and stepped out of the way. But Sirius did not want that, neither did Remus. Heck, not even you –with your staggering determination to make them both happy– actually wanted to leave him. 

The problem was that none of you would talk about your feelings to each other, because no one wanted to be vulnerable. No one was ready to risk your friendship and hearts in the process. And as a result, you were all miserable. 

And Remus, poor Remus wouldn’t even say that he liked you as much as he liked Sirius because if things had gone awry with you just believing he liked Sirius, he assumed that coming clean would only complicate shit further and make everyone even more miserable. 

The three of you were sinking, grappling at each other to try and save them but only succeeding in dragging them towards the bottom. A hard, determined grip that was causing all of you to drown in an ocean of emotions. But the three of you were bigger than the sea you were sinking in, all you had to do was open your hearts and sing their longings. Only then would you realise the three of you had the ability to breathe underwater and to love more than one at the same time.

Tuesday, January 11th, 1977

You woke up on the floor, you were sore and had a terrible headache. You removed the sweater from your face and winced as the light passed through the window. You had spent the previous night trying to get Nina’s wand to work, but other than getting it to do a very dim, almost useless Lumos, you had gotten nowhere. 

You sat up on the floor a little too fast and your head spun. You had drank the flask James had sent you and upon wanting to swallow your sorrows, used the hairpin to buy a bottle of whatever they had available at the Leaky Cauldron. It was terrible, probably adulterated or mixed up with some drunk-inducing potion. It had tasted like shit, and yet you had drank half of the bottle while you kept trying for the wand to work. 

After a particularly disastrous try that had you walk back to the room with a small jar of water, you threw the entire bottle into the fire in fury and had to drink the weird-tasting water from the Inn. You didn’t even have anything to take to subdue your hangover (evidently exacerbated due to the fact that you had refused to eat at all that Saturday). And you still weren’t hungry. 

When you managed to walk towards the bathroom you realised you had stained the band shirt from Sirius you’d been wearing and almost broke down to cry again. You didn’t want to wash it, but you’d have to wash it, there was no way you used a cleaning spell since your fucking wand was broken and Nina’s still refused to fucking collaborate. You washed your face and your teeth –your breath was disgusting up until then. Then you sat on the toilet seat and stared at the wall while you tried to recollect your thoughts. 

You’d have to go back to Hogwarts tonight, the train was almost always the best way to travel there, but you didn’t want to see the boys, and you had heard the Knight Bus drove to Hogsmeade, and from there you could walk all the way to the castle. 

But it’s cold, a little voice in your head said. Either way, unless you got the wand to work for you, there was no way in hell you could use a disillusionment charm to walk towards the Honeydukes passage, and you weren’t sure you’d be able to take the one at the Shrieking Shack since they had used new spells to close it.

You sighed and stood up, putting the bits and trinkets you had taken out of your trunk back into it and closing it. You wrote a small apology letter for the chair and left a couple of galleons for the cleaning lady that would have to fix it with reparo. You checked under the bed to make sure you had everything with you and handed your suitcase (whose levitation spell had not worn off as of yet) to Reese. 

Once you knew you were ready you took your bag –the one with the undetectable extension charm– and slung it around your shoulder. You knew it wasn’t going to be easy to walk inside Gringotts without calling too much attention, so you dug deeper into the bag and pulled out James’ Felix Felicis. It was as you were looking at it that you remembered that you had promised to talk to him in the morning.

You cursed under your breath and dug through your pockets to try and find the earring and put it on hastily. 

“James?” you asked in a low tone, almost hesitantly. 

“Vixen?!” you heard from the other side. 

“What?” you heard Sirius's voice. “Where?” he added, and then there was more shuffling. 

“No,” James said. “I meant– I meant to look at this,” he added, taking something from the table. “She used to love it.” 

Remus gave him a distasteful look, and Sirius looked at him with a saddened sort of expression. You, on the other side of the spell, didn’t say a word.

“Maybe next time don’t say her name like that?” Remus suggested. You would be lying if you said that hadn’t felt like a cold bucket of water thrown straight in your face. I mean, it makes sense he wouldn’t want to hear about his new boyfriend’s ex but– you… you were friends. 

James, who had absolutely no context of the situation just scoffed, you heard a chair groan as he stood up. “The both of you are absolutely impossible,” he added. “Write her a fucking letter.” 

“I have, I don’t have a fucking address to send it!” Sirius retorted. James just walked out. You heard a door, and then running water. Probably a faucet. 

Then he muttered a silencing incantation and sighed. “What the fuck, Vixen?!? You said 9! It’s almost twelve.”

“I’m sorry–” 

“I was worried!” 

“I’m fine,” you lied, James knew it. He couldn’t see you, but your voice had that slight drag it had when you were upset. 

James let out an exasperated sigh, “You didn’t drink the entire flask, did you?” 

“No,” you lied again, turning the flask upside down and looking at the small drop of fire whiskey that fell from it. It wasn’t entirely a lie. 

There was silence, “We’re taking the train today, will I see you there?” 

“Probably not,” you responded. “I think they might take me to Hogsmeade.” 

“Want me to pick you up at Honeydukes?” 

“Please!” There was silence. “But James… Just you, is that okay?” 

He sighed. “You won’t fix things if you don’t talk to each other.” 

James Potter, the voice of reason, ladies and gentlemen (and anyone in between). 

“We just need a little bit more time,” you said tentatively. “You’ll come alone then?” 

“Fine,” he said, completely unconvinced. 

“Thank you, James.” 

“Don’t do anything stupid while you wait,” he warned. 

You scoffed, “Look who’s talking.”

“See you around,” he said at last. You took the earring off and placed it in your pocket. 

You walked downstairs, handed the key to the man on the counter, and walked outside. You blended in the mix of people and walked straight towards Gringotts. You didn’t know if your father had placed alarms or anything similar, if he would know you’d been there or if he had forgotten that he’d given you the vault altogether, but you knew you had to be fast either way. In and out, if nobody noticed, then it would be for the best. If only you could use your wand, things would be easier. 

The long white building stood ahead of you. Threatening like an ancient mausoleum filled with secrets and pitfalls. You had never entered, but you had heard of it plenty. You remembered your mother telling you all about the Goblins and their rebellions and how they were in charge of the most important Magic Bank in England. You took a deep breath and walked inside. The luxurious golden columns were the first thing that you spotted. Tall and mighty, rows and rows of them walking through the long and wide corridor. 

You walked inside as if you knew the place, you had to enter the vault since asking for money directly might not have been as easy, you were sure you had accounts to your name, but a large withdrawal would be a lot more evident if you did it through the goblins than if you walked inside your vault, and placed most of the money there. 

You walked all the way to the end of the long hall and smiled politely at a hostile-looking goblin. You could see on his name tag the name Thracknok. He finished stamping a paper and looked up at you with a grin that looked more sinister than welcoming. “How may I help?” he asked in a garrulous and nasal tone, every word clipped.

“I would like to access my vault,” you said as you took out your key and showed it to him. “It’s the 718.” 

“Top security?” The goblin replied. 

You nodded, breath as steady as possible. “I have been sent by my father,” you lied. And then you focused on your voice, you remembered what you’d done to Remus, the intonation, the way in which you had charmed him, and channelled it again. “You must take me there.” 

Thracknok nodded, his gaze slightly lost, “I must,” he agreed. 

By the time he turned around and took the key you’d given him from the counter, you let out a nervous breath and followed him. He took you all the way into a small, mine-like cart, and motioned for you to sit. In a matter of seconds, you were coursing at top speeds through tunnels and wide-opened spaces. You saw a dragon and went through a waterfall. Thracknok seemed disoriented for barely a second after that, but he continued with his task. 

Fae magic and wizard magic, although similar, were not exactly the same, and the Thief’s Downfall had not affected your charm almost at all. Now you had no idea why that waterfall was there, but you had focused on one thing throughout the trip and it was those same words that you’d told Thracknok from behind the counter ‘You must take me there.’

You weren’t entirely sure what you were doing, but something deep inside you told you that you had to be precise with this. Eventually, the cart stopped, right in front of a pair of twin vaults 718 and 719. Both had your last name written at the top. 

The goblin approached one of the vaults and placed the key, the vault opened, intricate metal pieces slowly moving to the side, and allowing you in. 

“I’ll be outside,” the goblin said and turned around for you to walk in. You walked inside your vault, it was filled with both things you had and hadn’t seen. There were piles of galleons in the corners and several other magical items scattered all around. There were goblets, and jewellery, a bunch of enchanted items. You could feel their magic, even if you weren’t sure what most of them did. You swallowed and picked a handful of galleons and threw them in your bag, then another one and then another one. You hadn’t even made a dent in the pile, but you had enough to get by for the rest of the school year and then some. 

You turned to the massive grandfather clock in the corner of the room, it had taken you exactly three minutes and 15 seconds to fill your bag. It hadn’t been that long, you wanted your whole incursion at Gringotts to last no more than 30 minutes, and so far, you were doing an excellent job. You took a deep breath and started looking around. You avoided touching any of the jewellery in case it had tracking spells, but you looked over the rest of the things. Some things had belonged to your Mum, fae relics, and then there were other things that belonged to your dad’s side of the family, ancient jewellery, a game of chess made out of gold, a star trapped in a ring whose shine was almost blinding and even a couple of old books on fae magic your father had bought and studied when he married your mother.  

And that’s when you thought about his letter again, the one where he’d told you that he needed space on the family vault for something else. You had thought it was odd then, you even suspected he might be hiding something important. But now that you saw all those fae items and books, you knew that whatever he must have hidden in there was powerful, so powerful it might have been used as a weapon. 

What was that old saying? Curiosity kiIIed the cat? Perhaps you should have resisted the urge to find a way inside the other vault, perhaps you should have just walked out of the bank, gone straight towards a small street and called for the Knight Bus. But it was the oddness of all those precious items being taken out and thrown somewhere else, of those items being replaced by something else. There had to be a reason, and you had to see what it was.

You looked around inside the vault, you had read a book about twin vaults, some of them were connected upon the request of their owners. Now, you didn’t see a straight connection between them, but you were certain your father would be the type of person to request such a thing, in the strange scenario he had to get out of the vault a different way than the one he got in. 

You took a deep breath and paid attention to everything. The secret passages in your old house had always been odd. The classic book was not secretive enough for Silas. He liked to use weirder things, books that hid information, candies that unlocked secret doors (but only if you put the right amount of them on the scale), elaborate puzzle games that would only open the passage if you followed the exact amount of steps to solve them. 

When you were smaller, before the trip to the Occultum and before his political ambitions took over his personality, the two of you used to do puzzles together, elaborate and complicated sorts of puzzles that were far above your age range. But Silas didn’t care, he would convince you to keep trying and trying until you found the way to solve them. Whenever you did solve a puzzle, Silas would smile and praise his talented daughter, tell her how brilliant she was, and then he would give you a wish in return. A wish, you thought. 

Right in the middle of the bookshelf, there was a simple book, with the word ‘Wish’ written on its spine. You looked at it for a couple of seconds before you decided to approach it, it was in slow and tentative steps that you reached the shelf and took it in your hands. You swallowed and opened the book. 

There was only one written page in the entire book, and it was a riddle.

In shadows deep and whispers soft, A secret lies, though hidden oft. Through twists and turns of mind and fate, Seek the truth, but never late. In echoes old and dreams untold, The key awaits, in tales of old. Through trials dire and trials fair, Only the wise shall find it there. In silence vast and darkness deep, The answer lies, in dreams asleep. But wake ye now, and heed the call, For time is short, and darkness falls. Three paths diverge, yet all converge, To where the truth and secrets surge. Choose wisely, seeker, lest you fail, And in the end, your efforts pale."

Series Masterlist | Next Chapter

TAGLIST: @rayrlupin @callmelovergirl @warcelia @ireneop @endversewinchester @moonyunebi @smuttysluttybitch @mazzymoons @drugs-for-memes @sofiacblair @vmpir3lvr @remuslupinisbae @rabluver @willgrahamisalesbi4n @thatobsessedreader  @itskailey24 @hell0-kittie @belovedmoony @blacksgarden @loving-and-dreaming @cassie-love20 @starchaser-lily @zucchini-queenie @springflwer07 @sseleniaa @cometsghost @orkwardx0 @imdoingbetternow  @sbrewer21 @remuslupinsbae @maxinehufflepuffprincess @wifiatthetrainstation @unstablereader @msblacklupin @professionalrodent @jaylienpotter @remussbitch @hermionelove @izuoyarmin @themarauderswife7 @keira-kaz2y5 @lampthemacarenagod @bugg06 @a-n-1-m-3-f-r-3-4-k @darlingeels @kissmeunicornbaobei @xluansstuff @boo8008 @angelmixer @voteforintensedreams @allons-y-molly @aremuslupinsimp @imaginexred @writingshae @nyanwyn @poetrypirate @crazyhorseforgot @saturnhas82moons @ryeyeyer @mothraantics @maqqiekwon @desikudisworld @pastelorangeskies @barking4you @profoundpidgeon

Leave a comment telling me if you wanna be tagged on Gilded Constellations

Want to support me? Like and reblog this post (reblogs are extra nice since they help me get my work to more people), also guys, I absolutely love reading your comments, so do throw them my way if you have any!

A/N: I questioned myself for making them suffer so much while revising this chapter. Some of Sirius' words are just heart wrenching to me, I swear <3

Read more Marauders Fiction

[carolperkinsexgirlfriend]

Steddie Upside-Down AU Part 1

Eddie doesn’t even know why he’s at this stupid party. It’s full of jocks showboating for their girlfriends, their girlfriends clustering together and giggling like watching Tommy Hagan do a keg stand is somehow dreamy. He’d had an entire beer spilled on his shoes, been heckled out of the kitchen and into the backyard, and left to brood out by Harrington’s ostentatious, heated in-ground pool. And it’s barely been an hour.

Within that hour, he’s made enough money to buy two month’s worth of cigarettes. That’s the rub of it all, isn’t it? Counting his time with packs of cigarettes, and bald tires that need replacing. And stupid things like food for their barren fridge and heat in the trailer once fall fully bleeds into winter. Wayne can only do so much, with rolling blackouts hitting the plant, and rent increasing a little more every year.

So Eddie goes to parties full of people he hates, lunch box secured to his person with the chain at his hip, switchblade stuffed in his back pocket. Just in case.  

This party is only ramping up, people trickling out from the overstuffed house to loiter on the back porch, occasionally stopping by to procure his services. As the first hour dwindles into the second, Eddie’s supply is getting dangerously low. 

He’s just considering leaving when he notices the King himself trailing after two girls he vaguely recognizes as the two that have been haunting the edges of the jock table the past few weeks. 

The brunette is scowling, hand wrapped tightly enough around her redheaded friend’s wrist to make the skin turn unnaturally white as she yanks her along none too gently, her short legs making ferocious strides that have both her captive friend and Harrington stumbling to keep up. 

Harrington’s got his hands up like he’s placating a spooked horse, talking too quietly for Eddie to hear over the pounding beat of the music. The girl isn’t spooked though. Despite being the shortest of the group, she looks like a predator on the hunt, just waiting for a slip up to make her kill. 

Whatever Harrington is saying must not go well. The brunette shoves her friend behind her, stabbing her finger into his chest, voice rising in rage. “–know he meant it, Steve!” she yells, flatting her palm to push him back harshly. She spins on her heel, continuing her trek past Eddie’s spot by the pool and out toward the open gate to the driveway. “As long as he’s here, we’re not going to be!”

“Don’t be like that Nance,” Harrington placates, following in her wake. “Tommy’s just drunk.”

“I don’t care about Tommy!” Nancy snaps. “I care that you’re friends with such a despicable person.”

“Nance–”

“I thought you were better than this, Steve Harrington,” she says. 

Then they’re both through the gate and gone. Harrington doesn’t follow. He stands there, staring where the girls had been, back to Eddie. He’s still as a statue for a long, endless minute before growling, low and angry, pulling his fist back and punching the side of his house. 

The hit makes a meaty squelching sound of breakable skin striking an immovable object and parting under its pressure. It almost echoes through the yard in the silence between songs, the whispering from all the onlookers starting up just before the next top forty song begins blaring.

Harrington spins, glaring out at the clustered people on the porch, hands on his hips, blood dripping down onto the green of his sweater, the light blue of his jeans. It’s a little thrilling to see the King bloody, even at his own hands. Like a true royal, he snaps, “go inside,” voice demanding obedience. And they do obey, scuttling back into the house in small clusters, shutting the sliding glass door behind the last of them.

Harrington sighs, shoulders drooping as he lifts his injured hand up to look down at it. He still hasn’t noticed Eddie in his spot by the pool.

“Trouble in the kingdom, your majesty?” he asks, jumping up from his cross-legged position on the pavement to saunter up to the other boy. He leans into his space, smiling coyly as Harrington leans back like he carries an airborne disease. “Anything this lowly court jester can do to help?”

He looks shocked at Eddie’s presence, like he never even considered that his decree wouldn’t be obediently followed by everyone in his backyard. 

Eddie smirks, fishing in the pocket of his jean vest for his cigarettes. He taps one out, and holds it out–ever the consummate servant–to Harrington, who curls his lips up in disgust and takes a step back away from him. Eddie shrugs, stuffs the pack back into his pocket and fishes his lighter out of his jeans. 

“Munson?” Harrington asks, squinting like he’s never seen Eddie before, despite living in the same janky town, and going to the same schools for the past five years. “Who invited you?”

Eddie takes his time lighting his cigarette and taking a drag, marveling as the little divot between Harrington’s eyebrows grows deeper with every passing second. He holds the smoke in, feeling it settle his nerves as he stares daringly into Harrington’s eyes. He doesn’t look away as he exhales, smoke blowing into Harringotn’s face. He doesn’t cough, just gestures his hand in front of his face impatiently to clear the smoke, looking one more insolent move away from smacking Eddie in the face.

“Someone has to sell party favors to Hawkins’ elite,” Eddie replies, shaking the lunchbox where it’s resting just below his hip. 

Steve scoffs. “Well, the party’s just about over so why don’t you fuck off, man.”

He gestures behind him to the open gate. Eddie takes another drag, ashing his cigarette on the pristine concrete below him. Harrington balls up his fists before immediately releasing the tension with a wince, shaking out his injured hand.

“Looks like it’s in full swing to me.” Eddie gestures to the sliding glass door back into the dining room. The curtains are closed now, but Eddie can see the darkened silhouettes moving to the beat still pumping through the house.

“I’m kicking them out.”

Harrington crosses his arms, seemingly once again forgetting about the bloody state of his hand. He’s almost pouting now. Eddie has the insane urge to boop him on the nose. He takes another drag.

“Upset your little girlfriend wouldn’t put out?” he asks, jutting his bottom lip out, trailing a fake tear down his own cheek with his free hand. “Poor little rich boy.”

“What the fuck is your problem, man?” 

“Me?” Eddie asks, dropping the burning filter of his cigarette to the ground and using the heel of his boot to smear it into the pavement. “I’m dandy. Who wouldn’t want the undivided attention of the King?”

He smiles then, condescending and bright, planting his feet as Harrington’s gaze darkens further.

“I always knew you were a freak,” Harrington snarls, drawing out the F sound like he’d rather use a different word that begins with the letter F.

“And a startling comeback from the King!” Eddie calls, showboating like he’s DMing for Hellfire in the dingy drama room. “How many F words did your Daddy teach you?”

Eddie didn’t realize that Harrington wasn’t angry before until all the light leaves his eyes. They go blank, soulless, like there’s no real person behind them. He uncrosses his arms, fists once again clenched, not even seeming to realize that it further splits his knuckles as he takes a threatening step forward. It’s a little scary, the way one question seems to have flipped him into an entirely different person.

Note to self, do not mention the absentee Father. Eddie takes a step back on reflex as Harrington uses his bloody finger to jab into his chest, hard enough to sting. Eddie looks down as blood smears, idly grateful that he’s wearing black. 

“You have no idea what the fuck you’re talking about,” Harrington spits.

Eddie, having never learned to bite his tongue, opens his mouth to crow about this new F word in Harrington’s repertoire, when he hears a sound behind him. 

It sounds almost like the foxes that sometimes chitter in the woods surrounding the trailer park. But there’s something wrong with it. It’s high pitched and cutting in and out, like a record skipping again and again. It’s staticy, reverberating behind him like the static of the television between channels but worse. A recording of television static sped up too fast and fed through three long distance phone calls. 

Eddie’s hands tremble, something animalistic coursing through him at the sound–fight or flight kicking in with only one option left. In front of him, Harrington’s gone quiet, eyes wide and unblinking as he looks fixedly past Eddie’s left shoulder. 

Then, abruptly, the sound cuts out, replaced with a guttural growling so deep he can feel it pulsing through his muscles, urging him to run. It unsticks his feet, but before he can dart through the open gate, or maybe to the shut sliding glass door to hunker down with the other party-goers, Harrington shoves him backward. Hard.

He loses his feet, loses his breath, until he’s choking on chlorinated water. He comes out of the water spluttering, coughing up water until it burns, his layers of clothing doing their best to drag him down into the bottom of the pool to drown. 

His eyes are closed against their stinging, ears clogged with water where he’s struggling to tread in the deep end of Harrington’s stupid heated pool that the King himself just shoved him in.

It’s a low enough moment that Eddie can feel his mind covering up the impossibilities of the night, paving over the impossibilities to rewrite the story to make sense: King Steve saw him, set up some speakers to spook him, and then shoved him in the pool. Nothing unexpected there.

But then Eddie opens his eyes. 

Harrington’s on the ground. Harrington’s on the ground fighting against the grip around his wrist, pulling him toward the water Eddie’s struggling to stay afloat in. 

It’s not a person dragging him, not a practical joker wearing a suit. It can’t be. The thing is standing upright, sure, but it’s too tall, too thin, too featureless. Its forearms are uncannily long, fingers twisting and look as if they have too many joints facing the wrong directions where they curl around Harrington’s wrist, claws sharp enough to make him bleed. Its ribs are showing. And there’s no face at all, just creased flesh puckered together where a mouth ought to be.

At least, that’s what Eddie thinks until Harrington struggles harder, fingers of his free hand digging into the crack in the pavement, momentarily stalling their forward momentum. Then, the seams where its head connects open, like a flower toward the sun, if each petal was fleshy and covered in dozens of sharp looking teeth. And it screeches, ear-splitting and horrible, as if reprimanding Harrington for not laying imobile like a good little live meal.

It tosses Harington into the pool. He hits with a splash, immediately flailing out, smacking Eddie on the side of his face. Eddie reaches out on instinct to pull the guy toward him, trying to keep the both of them above the water line while Harrington reorients himself. 

It shouldn’t have taken long. Harrington is the captain of the swim team. He should have been able to kick his feet under him and been off to the other end of the pool within seconds. 

It wasn’t fast enough.

Eddie doesn’t even see it move, it’s so fast. He’s holding onto Harrington, arm slung around the other guy’s waist, clutching tightly at the front of his sweater. Then, Harrington’s being pulled forcefully to the bottom of the pool, Eddie along with him. 

All of his orifices are burning from the chlorine–throat, nose, eyes, ears. He feels blind, deaf, lost, anchorless, except for the feel of Harrington’s skin beneath his hand, so he clutches, hooks his hand through the guy’s belt to keep his hold.

There’s a sensation, like meat parting around him. Then he’s breathing, sucking in oxygen, eyes still closed, head spinning. Harrington’s ribs are rising and falling rapidly. It lasts only a moment, the pair of them breathing and touching and panicking in tandem.

Until there’s that sound. Foxes chittering strangely, but it’s echoing now, weirdly like they’re in a cave forty feet underground. 

Eddie opens his eyes. The sky looks wrong–darker than it should be, and it almost looks like it’s snowing. One of the flakes hits Eddie in the cheek and he rubs at the spot, feeling it flake apart and smear across his face. Not snow. Dust? Ash?

They’re in some sort of pit made of concrete, cracked under the force of the sickly vines crawling across its surface. It’s deep enough that Eddie’s not sure how they’re going to get out. 

It’s not until he sees the ladder at the edge of the hole that he realizes where they are: impossibly, in the bottom of Harrington’s pool, somehow drained of water and decayed and made wrong, in a matter of seconds. 

The chittering turns to a growl. Harrington jumps up. Eddie’s hand, where it’s still tucked into his belt, jerks violently up with him, pinky getting stuck between belt and pants as he hastily tries to extract it. Harrington darts away, and Eddie’s pinky pops. It’s barely audible beyond the growling, but he feels it as a release of pressure and then sharp pain.

Eddie looks down at his now free hand. There’s chaffing on his palms, and his pinky sits at an awkward angle, already swelling around the knuckle where it connects to his hand. 

Nausea rolls through him–shock, maybe–at the sight. More than the pain, it looks like another wrong thing in a long line of wrongness that makes up his night, this time, attached to his own body. He heaves, water spilling out of his mouth, burning with chlorine as Eddie forces his eyes away from his hand.

Harrington’s across the pool, holding some sort of pole with a torn net at one end, thrusting it into the creature’s mouth, farther and farther. But the metal’s warping, almost decaying under the saliva in the thing's face, pole becoming shorter and shorter until It’s almost upon Harrington.

Without thought, Eddie jumps to his feet, stumbling behind the thing and bashing his lunchbox into its head. 

It’s probably the surprise of the hit that makes the thing stumble. Harrington wastes no time, jabbing the rest of his pole, fast and deep into its maw. It wails, the strike fast enough to get through whatever was melting the metal, piercing something deep inside the thing.

Eddie’s not stupid enough to think it’ll stay down. He skirts around the thing, latching onto Harrington’s wrist and pulling him along in his wake. He doesn’t hear the pole clatter to the cement of the bottom of the pool, hoping that means they have a little more time, doesn’t dare turn around to look as Eddie drops Harrington’s wrist to climb, hand over aching hand, up the ladder and out of the pool. 

Nothing looks better once he’s topside. The sky is still wrong, filled with ash and discolored light. There’s vines up here, too. And it’s quiet, so quiet he can hear every sound Harrington makes as he scrambles up the ladder behind him. 

Eddie doesn’t wait for him. He runs, fast as he can to the sliding door to the house, wrenching it open and falling past the curtain into the house. He hopes, hysterically, that no one sees him making such a fool of himself, hopes somewhere deeper that someone does and will put themselves between his fleshy body and whatever comes through the door behind him.

But no one’s there. Harrington’s kitchen is dark, the living room past it dark as well, a disturbing red glowing faintly through closed curtains like he’s landing himself in a scene straight from Evil Dead. There’s no shadows of partygoers moving, no top forty, no drunk teenagers to spill beer on his shoes.

He stands, frozen, something horrific building in his throat, like a scream or a sob as he stares, unmoving, curtains moving against the small of his back until something slams through them, pushing him to the cold linoleum. 

He pictures teeth, swears he hears a growl, but when he twists wildly from his prone position to scoot backwards on his ass, arms preemptively raised, he sees Harrington sliding the door closed and clicking the shitty plastic lock into place. 

It's hilarious, like the thing they’d both seen back there would be stopped by a little piece of plastic, or doors, or the safety of his house. Eddie bites back a laugh that’s fighting its way up his throat like chlorine, burning and not where it’s supposed to be.

Harrington’s back is shaking with the force of his pants as he yanks the curtains closed. He pivots, face devoid of anything as he bends down and yanks Eddie up by his wrist hard enough to sting.

“Harrington, the people–” he starts, but his wrist is yanked harder as he’s led up carpeted stairs and into a bedroom.

Eddie gets only a sense of plaid and emptiness before he’s being shoved into a closet, Harrington stumbling in behind him and closing the doors quietly and squatting down next to where Eddie had fallen. The outside of their thighs are pressed together. Something hysterical bubbles up his throat again at the irony of the moment. He bites his lip against it.

Harrington’s feet are beneath him, ready to jump and fight anything that might follow them up here. Eddie can’t seem to get his ass on the floor, the lethargy of shock making him complacent, the knowledge that he’d never stand a chance if that thing makes it into the house making the effort of vigilance not seem worth it.

Harrington looks fierce, like he really is in a scary movie, an action hero, the final girl, the one who’ll get to the end of the movie by any means necessary. But Eddie can feel his body shaking where their legs are pressed together. Eddie gets the insane urge to hold his hand.

It feels like hours pass like this, Harrington at the ready, Eddie succumbing to his sleepy shock, before Harrington slowly lowers himself to sit on the ground beside Eddie, knee overlapping his as he sits crisscross, still looking at the door.

“Harrington, what–” 

“I don’t know, Munson.” His voice is a sharp whisper, biting in its carelessness. He doesn’t even look away from the closet door.

“Your house is just empty, man.”

That gets him a scoff and a loosening roll of his shoulders as Harrington finally turns his head to the side and meets his eyes. Eddie tries not to notice the way it slides his thigh more firmly atop his own.

“That’s what you’re worried about?” Harrington demands, and for a moment, Eddie’s afraid he somehow heard his thoughts, another in a long line of indignities in this new world they’ve found themselves in, but he continues, “–the people? Not the flower monster that tried to eat us, or the red sky, or the shitty vines all over my house?”

“People means help! Who’s going to help us now?” Eddie demands, voice rising higher than it should. He swings his hand wildly, less of a gesture and more of a limb seizing with panic until it hits the closet’s wall with a hollow thwack, sending a bolt of pain from his pinkie finger down his wrist. 

Harrington turns violently, almost climbing in Eddie’s lap in his bid to both cover his mouth and wrench his hand away from the wall and clutch it tightly in the space between their chests. Eddie bites his own lip at the pain of the squeeze. It’s dark, but he can see the way Harrington’s eyes are widened with fear, the whites too visible.

“Shut up,” he hisses, hand squeezing a little tighter around his cheeks. 

They sit in the silence of the moment, staring at each other, ears straining for the sound of anything coming for them.

All is silent. Harrington’s hands ease away and he slowly shuffles out of Eddie’s space. 

“Sorry,” Eddie says, almost reflexive. 

Steve doesn’t reply, but he doesn’t turn away either. They’re still both staring at each other. Eddie’s too tense to feel awkward about it.

He sits in the silence. He’s never been good at it—the quiet. It eats at him, picks away at his skin until he’s back in a run-down apartment with a Father in jail and Mom gone from the room even as she rots away on the couch. The silence eats and eats and eats, until he can almost smell the mildew of the always-closed windows, can feel the springs of his old mattress digging uncomfortably into his back.

The springs prod him, and he blinks into the closet, Harrington’s finger jabbing into his side.

“Don’t crack on me now, Munson.” He’s not smiling.

“Aww,” he replies, trying to make his tone its usual cloying flirtation, “didn’t think you cared, your highness.”

He twists his mouth up at the side. It doesn’t quite land on a smirk—he can feel the way it wobbles. If Harrington notices, he doesn’t call him on it.

With a roll of his eyes, Harrington responds, “like you said, no people means no help, means you’re all I’ve got.”

“Don’t sound too happy about it,” Eddie mutters, but the house is too quiet and they’re sitting too close together.

Harrington scoffs, but he leans back further, settling fully on his ass for the first time since he’d dragged Eddie into the closet with him, like all he needs to feel at ease is Eddie being a dick to him. He’s not sure whether or not that’s infuriating or charming, but the knot in his throat that feels suspiciously like tears breaks loose when Harrington leans back on the heels of his hands.

There’s something to the ease of Harrington in this moment that makes Eddie wonder if he’s ever actually seen him at ease before. When Eddie had watched him across the lunch room, eyes unwillingly drawn to the jocks table, his shoulders were always relaxed, mouth always turn up at the corners, but there was still something so stiff about him. Eddie’s not sure he’s ever seen him lean back like this.

It's almost like, without eyes on him—or with only Eddie’s—his body has gone ragamuffin. A marionette with all it’s strings cut. It’s like. Like—

It’s like hiding from a horrific Lovecraftian monster in the alternative dimension version of his own closet with Eddie Fucking Munson is the first time Steve Harrington has felt comfortable in his own skin. Either that, or Eddie’s spiraling.

“Stop staring at me, man,” Harrington says, draping a hand over his eyes to block out the nonexistent light.

It’s only then that Eddie realizes he has been staring. He snaps his gaze to the floor, running his fingers through the soft shag of Harrington’s fancy carpet. It’s things like this that got him marked as queer within weeks of moving here.

“What’re we gonna do, man?” Eddie asks, like a broken record.

Harrington sighs, drooping further into the carpet. “I vote we go to sleep and hope this was all a bad dream.”

And as if his word had been decreed, Harrington stretches out as much as he can in the confined space, using a pile of dirty clothes as a pillow, and closes his eyes. The side of his leg ended up pressed across the entire side of Eddie’s thigh.

Eddie stares, struck dumb by the audacity of Harrington checking out in a moment like this. When his silence gets no reaction, he slumps down, dragging his cheek into the soft carpet as Harrington slumbers beside him. It feels like hours until he falls asleep.

Part 2

[spinningwebsandtales]

Imagine Sneaking Through The Citadel To Meet With Jack

Praetorian Jack X FemReader

Rating: T+

Warnings: Suggestive themes, steam, lots of kissing, basically over 1,000 words of pure self indulgence (no I'm not sorry)

Word Count: 1.4k

(A/N:) I went to go see Furiosa Friday....now I'm obsessed! Especially one character in particular, so I had to write something for him! Cause I have no control over what the idea worms bring to eat at my spastic brain! So fellow fangirls that watched Furiosa please enjoy this little indulgent creation of mine! Until next time happy reading! ~Countess

Mild spoilers below!!

The sun setting behind the rocky horizon of the Wasteland's left a dusky orange haze painting The Citadel. Majority of the residences were beginning to settle down for the evening, except for several War Boys taking the first watch of the evening. You waited patiently in a darkening alcove, pressed tightly against the wall. The thin clothing you had to wear barely fought back the chill and the terror of getting caught had you fighting shivers and breathing softly. Getting caught wasn't an option as it would have you in serious trouble all around. Not just for yourself but the man you were sneaking around for. His death would be inevitable if he was spotted with you. A couple War Boys walked by, talking about the possibility of heading out to battle soon. You sucked in a breath, pressing further against the wall. They walked by, not even giving a glance in your direction. This was the hardest part, waiting for the darkness to deepen so you could further make your way out of the well guarded halls.

While the whole place had started to settle hours ago, you didn't move until you knew the moon was high in the sky and the watchmen had become lax in their duties. Not many people were stupid enough to challenge Immortan Joe, so the War Boy's didn't take the night watch seriously. On light bare feet you stuck close to the shadows and quickly made your way to a hidden part of The Citadel. Your heart hammered in your chest and you clutched at your fluttering wrap. Though you had done this several times, you just knew you'd eventually get caught and thrown out into the horrible outside world. Then mere moments passed, though it felt like a lifetime, you squeezed into a hidden opening of an abandoned alcove. You sighed in relief when hands wrapped around you, one on your hip the other across your mouth. Your muffled surprise was silenced when you caught a familiar glimpse of dark hair and a scarred lip.

"Don't do that," you seethed when Jack removed his hand.

"Always so nervous," he chuckled sitting back against the cold natural stones.

"You know what happens if we get caught," you glared. Jack just shrugged and you huffed.

Praetorian Jack, The Citadel's greatest warrior and the man who kept the War Rig running. His team was known as the best and all the War Boys fought for a chance to ride for him. He was the first man to show you an ounce of kindness when you arrived at The Citadel. Sold to Immortan Joe in exchange for food, the man who you thought loved you, dumped you at his feet and never looked back. Being barren saved you from the fate of one of his wives, you found yourself doing any chores that was deemed worthy of your station. Thrown to the feet of Jack, you had become his problem for a short while until you were drug to another part of The Citadel for other tasks. That short time with the quiet gruff man had something grow between you, hence the sneaking to see one another.

Jack offered out his hand, knowing that you were losing yourself within horrible memories and he worried about you. These were the few times that made life worth living. You shook your head taking his offered hand and he lead you closer to him. You sat down between his legs, resting your back against his warm chest. He had forgone his leather jacket, leaving his rough clothing to catch against your linen garments. His presence and scent also soothing your nerves, as he held your hand, rubbing the top of your hand. His hands calloused and scarred but tender and kind. His nose brushing against the back of your neck, leaving you shivering. He kissed you gently, careful not to leave any marks. You leaned in backwards, staring up at him. Jack gave you a small smile, kissing your forehead causing you to giggle quietly. His fingers tangling with yours, he pressed another kiss to your forehead, before his stare became heated. You sat still letting him litter you with attention. He kissed your temple, cupping your cheek as he kissed your nose, cheek, before pausing above your lips. Your head still leaned back he took in your features before capturing your lips in an searing kiss. The upside down kiss awkward, but making your bare toes curl.

He released you to turn you around, slipping you back down onto his lap your legs wrapped around his waist. Cupping your cheeks with both hands, he pulled you back into his embrace. His stubble scratching against your soft skin, but you sighed into his mouth, your arms resting on his shoulders as you played with the long dirty strands of his hair. Jack deepened his kiss, tasting you in a more passionate way. You melted, unable to keep yourself upright. He released your cheeks, wrapping strong arms around your body and holding you tightly against his body. Air became a necessity too quickly and it had you both parting against each other. Warm puffs of air brushing against your wet and kiss swollen lips, Jack pressed his forehead against yours. You traced his features, your fingers soft against his rough face. He shivered in delight kissing and nipping at the digits. When he pulled away, he noticed some of his remaining war grease had smudged against your forehead. He licked his thumb cleaning it away.

"I don't want this to end," you said.

"Maybe one day it doesn't have to," Jack replied.

You stared at him with a curious look. He lost himself, staring at you deeply. You were an oasis in the desert. No amount of fighting and driving could give him a jolt of adrenaline like you did. It was these few stolen moments that he truly lived for. He didn't care what Immortan Joe wanted, if it gave him you then he would do whatever it took. He remembered those tearful fearful eyes of yours, when the War Boys had thrown you at his feet. You had lost everything and you didn't know what to expect. But when he held out that dirty, blood drenched hand you took it. Raising yourself from the floor and then it ended for Jack. He had to protect you and learn more from you. Your story, like everyone else's was filled with sadness and tragedy. He longed to make you forget all the horrible and hard times. And these fleeting times, hidden away from the watchful eyes of The Citadel and it's overlord he got to make that promise come to fruition. Stolen kisses, quiet sighs, and warm embraces. It was all here, that oasis for his soul.

"I will find away to save you," he promised. But he didn't want you to answer, to protest. So he kissed you, hard, fiercely, silencing any protests immediately. You held tightly, trying to keep up as Jack laid you gently back onto the stones. You threaded your fingers through his hair. He was all you could see, all that mattered as he leaned over you. Releasing you once more he laid down beside you. Tucking you into his side so you both could look up at the stars. A dusty haze always above your heads, but not enough to darken the night sky. You reached up, like you could scoop them up. Jack slid his hand up your arm his hand cupping the back of yours as his fingers also reached to the sky. Like you both could grab destiny together that played amongst the stars. You pulled your gaze from up above, looking towards the gentle man beside you.

"Let's save each other," you replied with conviction.

"You already have," Jack held on tighter. You searched for any sign that he said that just to make you feel better, only to see truth staring you in the face. You grasped his hand pulling it down to your chest. He felt your heartbeat thundering against your chest and Jack knew that he would give up anything to protect that kind heart. He held on tightly, not wanting to let any second pass him by in your presence. Even when time ran out and you both had to part ways, he held you against him. Taking you with him no matter where he was. And every time he looked up at the sky he could see you gazing back at him. You pushed him onwards and you held your ground. Knowing that the promised moments together were worth fighting for.

[cowboybarzy]

As a story request Since we see barzal at charity events when if he meets y/n there but she was a waiter serving she takes those gig sometimes to make extra cash but she serves some sleezy men who whistle at her and while she was surviving drinks barzal stands up with out see her above her by accident she spills the drinks on her self all the guys at the table yelling and her even her boss barzal helps her and apologizes but at the same times he’s like so mesmerizing by her but her boss ends up yelling at her telling her to go to the back while and mat just say it was his fault don’t blame her but the boss being a bitch says no it’s her fault bla bla but barzal trying to find her he thought it was over when he doesn’t see her anymore and he can’t just leave the charity he’s gotta stay Intill the end he lost all hope and felt bad for getting her in trouble but faith came true because since the players were the last to leave he sees her just waiting for her Uber he immediately goes to her and then… ending anyway you want :)

hii thank you for the request 🫶🏼 I hope you like this one!!

wc: 1.2k

once upon a time — mat barzal

It was a late summer evening and you strolled around the pier, enjoying the breeze and last moments of peace before you'd have to clock into work. You already had a long day of work behind you, but New York was expensive, so you took waitressing gigs at all kinds of fancy events to get some extra cash. While the money was great, those few hours were extremely stressful and sometimes the clientele you were serving could get on your nerves.

You were right to take those extra few moments looking at ocean, the horizon, to just daydream, as when you walked into event you could immediately tell it was going to be a bad night. But you sucked it up and went to work. Despite the new manager already yelling at everyone making you want to turn right back around when you walked in.

You were running around all night, serving food, taking plates away, and dodging older creepy men trying to hit on you. But it was part of your job to keep that polite smile on your face while also remaining invisible, so that's what you did.

It was later that night though, when things really escalated that had you evaluating whether the money you'd make that night was truly worth it. You were serving more drinks to probably the loudest table at the event, but honestly they were having the most fun and were the only table that hadn't pissed you off yet, when one of the guests stood up, pushing his chair right into you and spilling the tray of drink all over your- and himself.

"Oh my god! I am so sorry." The guy immediately apologized, scrambling to pick up the broken glass off the floor. A few seconds filled with shock and extreme awareness that the entire ballroom's attention was on you had you standing still, but you quickly bent down to help manage the mess.

"I'm so sorry." He apologized again.

"No, totally my bad. And please stop, that's my job," you cut in, still not looking up to meet his gaze.

"No, I didn't look before I got up. I'm so sorry." You finally looked up at the intriguing voice to look into beautiful green eyes. He stared back just as intensely as you did, both of you stopped shoving pieces of glass on to the serving tray. The rest of his face was just as beautiful, but you didn't have much more time to stare at him further as the angry voice of your manager cut through that little bubble.

"What the hell happened?"

You were the first one up, barely meeting the intense gaze of your manager. "I tripped. I'm sorry–"

"No," the green eyed beauty quickly interrupted. "It was totally my fault. I got in her way, I didn't look where I was going."

Your manager gave him an apologetic look, but he could hide the anger behind it. "No, it's her fault. She's to be invisible, meeting your needs. She should watch where she's going."

"No, really–” But his attempt was cut off again, you manager now apologizing to the table, to him, and waving over more staff to come clean up the mess. Then he turned to you with a furious look on his face that he kept hidden behind a fake smile.

“You. In the back. Now.” You flinched at his words, knowing it couldn’t lead to good ending. Tears welled up in your eyes. You were exhausted and overwhelmed and someone yelling at you for something that wasn’t your fault just added to your breaking point. But you wouldn’t break just yet. Not in front of this group. Not in front of the handsome stranger, who was still advocating for you to your manager – though useless – and shooting you apologetic looks. “Now!”

That’s when you finally moved, around the people cleaning the mess, walking as fast as possible away from the prying eyes of everyone in the room. In the kitchen, the other servers who definitely witnessed what happened came to your aid with some water and encouraging words, but they quickly went back to work when that beast of a manger came storming in after you.

To say that you were let go would be an understatement. He did not listen to a word of defense you tried to offer and instead turned your termination into a lecture for all of the staff on how not to do the job. No one spoke or rebelled his words, everyone including you just silently staring at him as he yelled. You stopped listening a while ago, fully knowing none of this was your fault and that there had to be something terribly wrong with him to fire you for one mistake.

When the manager’s speech was finally over and you were ordered to leave, you did so without hesitation. So you left, ran from this horrible day. Ran from this horrible job. The only thing haunting you as you ran were those beautiful green eyes.

***

“Then what happened?” The small girl curled up into your right asked, fighting a yawn.

“Yeah! What about the prince? Did he run after her?” You turned away from her to look into the eyes of your firstborn, her green eyes lighting up in excitement.

“He did,” you answered, not hiding your smile. “In fact, he was so anxious to catch up to her that he left the ball early, asking everyone in sight if they had seen her. All he wanted to do was apologize to her. It took him a while, but he did eventually find her outside, just as she was about to get into a car- a carriage. He leaped into traffic, stopping the girl just in time, but not without causing a bunch of passengers to angrily honk and yell in protest.” The two girls giggled at your dramatics.

“Well, it was worth it. She was so beautiful he couldn’t not go after her and do anything to talk to her.” The deep voice wrapped around your heart, warming it.

“Was?,” you playfully asked your husband, looking your eyes with his beautiful green ones that your daughter had inherited.

“Is. She still is the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.” You smiled at each other, both remembering when Mat caught up to you, out of breath and messed up hair from the wind. He rambled on for a while, apologizing for getting you in trouble and his adventure of finding out more about you and were you had gone, only stopping when you laughed at him calling your manager a brainless shithead. It was the prettiest laugh he’d ever heard and told you so. Your blushing only grew his own smile and you had no idea what came over you when you returned the compliment. He convinced you to stay and walk with him for a bit along the pier and you talked and talked and talked as if you had known each other for ages.

“Did they get married?,” your seven year old daughter asked.

“They did,” you answered, still smiling. “And they had three of the most beautiful children.”

You looked over the king sized bed with your family in it, Mat on his side with your five year old son fast asleep on top of him, your three year old daughter next to you and your oldest squished between you and Mat. And you thanked the lucky stars for that horrible job and Mat’s horrible lack of awareness of his surroundings.

[allfryam]

the hot dog eating contest

one summer, while out with his friends, Alex bet he could eat an entire pizza by himself. None of his friends thought he could do it but they all wanted to see him try. Piece after piece, the pizza started to slowly disappear into Alex’s stomach. With a final bite, he let out a large burp and rubbed his bloated belly. His friends were in awe, and Alex’s best friend Noah, had a gray idea. “Dude you should totally enter that hot dog eating contest they do for the fair.!” Noah said. “dude that was last weekend.” Alex responded, letting out another belch. “no. Next year! You’ll have all year to train and you can already eat an entire pizza. It should be easy.” Alex usually ignores the stupid ideas Noah came up with but this one wasn’t too bad. The top prize wins 10,000 dollars after all. Then it was settled. Alex would spend the next year trying for a hot dog eating contest. How hard could it be?

the next day while doing research on the topic, Alex found a strategy. Most people said eat until you are full, and then eat some more. The goal is to stretch your belly so you can fit more food. Alex was worried about his figure though. He had a nice body with slight abs that had started to fade after he graduated college. He figured if he gained any weight, with the $10000 he could get a nice gym membership to work it off. He started training with breakfast. He ate his way through ten pancakes before feeling like he was going to throw up. After waiting about a minute, he felt some room left in his belly so he ate another pancake. He did this three more times before being done with breakfast. For lunch, he ate a large burger and felt pretty full, but he definitely still had more room, so he ate another. Now he felt like he was going to explode. After some belly rubs and a few burps, some room opened up for a third burger. This one caused trouble. After a few bites, Alex really thought his belly would burst. After stifling a few attempts at throwing up, he barely managed to get the rest of the burger down. He groaned in pain as his stomach was stuffed to the brim. He looked at it to see a tight, round lump of flesh. It looked gross. He decided to take a nap before dinner with his friends.

at dinner, he ordered spaghetti, a steak, and some chicken wings. All of his friends looked at him in disbelief as he gorged on all of the food. Bite after bite he kept at it. His belt grew tight but he didn’t even notice from how fast he was eating. He groaned as he shoved the last bites down but it would all be worth it when he won the prize. With another loud burp he freed up some room and stole a few fries from Noah’s plate, finally being full enough to lay back in his chair and rub his bloated stomach. About 30 minutes later, after the normal paced eaters had finished, the waiter swung by the table and said, “any desserts for tonight?”

“no thank you I’m stuffed” said the rest of the table. But to nobody’s surprise, Alex sat up and ordered a slice of chocolate cheesecake. “Dude what the hell are you doing?! Trying to get fat?!” His fried mark exclaimed. “I’m training” Alex replied. “I have to expand my stomach capacity for the hot dog eating contest.” They looked at him wearily and watched him struggle through his slice of cheesecake.

this cycle of stuffing himself until he felt like he was about to pop continued for the rest of the week. Alex’s started noticing he could eat more without feeling nauseous. He could eat an extra 3 slices of pizza before having to stop. While his appetite and stomach capacity were increasing, Alex failed to notice his waistline was too. Without his knowledge, he had gained almost 5 pounds in just a week. The slightest bit of fat was starting to grow on his belly. It was almost impossible to tell, because he was always bloated, but the weight was definitely there. And it was only a matter of time before people began to notice.

day after day Alex ate like it was his last day on earth. The second he felt he could fit more food into his stuffed belly, he was making his way to the fridge. His new favorite snack was a triple decker grilled cheese. It was 6 slices of bread with 3 pieces of cheese between each. He loved making new concoctions to help stretch his stomach. One day he ate a Big Mac salad. It was three Big Macs crushed and shredded into pieces. He put in into a bowl, added shredded cheese, ketchup, mayo, and threw it in the microwave. Alex thought it tasted awful but he still ate it. Anything to help him win the contest.

after a few weeks of training, Alex decided to test himself. He went to the grocery store and bought as many hot dogs and buns as he could and brought them all home. He watched professional eaters on YouTube and noticed they dipped their bread in water to make it easier to eat. Alex stacked the hotdogs on his tray, set the timer, and began. He yanked buns off the hotdogs and dunked them in the water while shoving the hot dog down his throat. Then he would wash it down with the soggy bread and a sip of water if he really needed it. Then the cycle repeats until the time is up. Hot dog after hot dog, Alex’s belly continued to get fuller as the food slithered down his throat. As the timer went off, Alex finished chewing and did a tally. He managed to eat 19 hot dogs in ten minutes. To most, this would seem like a great accomplishment, but at the fair last year, the record was 42. Alex had a long way to go, and he was feeling stuffed from all of those hot dogs. He would need to be able to eat a lot more if he wanted to win.

after his first month of training, Alex had finally began to notice his weight gain. He was up 17 pounds from when he first started and it was all in his belly. He frowned in the mirror as he pinched his flab. He had been fit his whole life. Was it really worth it to throw that away. He called Noah to get a second opinion. “Holy shit” Noah said as he answered the FaceTime and saw Alex’s belly. Alex didn’t notice, but Noah had to move the phone to hide his boner. “what do I do Noah? I really want to win this challenge but not if it means getting fat” Alex said wearily. “fat? No way dude! You look great. If anything it’s probably just a little water weight.” Noah replied. He was trying to do anything to get Alex to keep the weight. Alex eventually agreed after some more convincing and then invited Noah out for lunch.

They ate at a small diner downtown that had some incredible burgers. Alex took advantage of that and ordered four. “Four? That’s it?” Noah asked. “Cmon man if you want your stomach to expand you need to eat more than that.” alex agreed and ordered two more burgers. He scarfed them down one by one until the final burger. He had been struggling with the last two but there was no way he would be able to eat this one. He leaned back in his chair and burped. His tight shirt rose up slightly and his bloated belly began to peek through. “Need help big guy?” Noah asked. “dude there’s no way *burp* I can finish this.” Alex replied. “I’ll help” Noah grabbed the Burger and shoved it into Alex’s mouth. Alex’s eyes grew wide as Noah continued shoving. With nothing else to do, Alex began chewing. The warm burger started to disappear into his gut and he moaned in pain with each bite. When he was done he unbuttoned his suprisingly tight pants and leaned back with his eyes closed. He rubbed his tight belly and breathed heavily. Noah was practically foaming at the mouth from how horny he was but he couldn’t let Alex know. One Alex had recovered from the insane amount of food he just ate, he sat up and looked at Noah. “Dude that was incredible. I’ve never eaten so much in my life! You should help feed me all the time!” Alex said excitedly. Noah’s face turned bright red and he agreed almost instantly.

Noah showed up to Alex’s apartment loaded with different fast foods. Alex was nervous but also excited. He knew Noah was capable of making him eat it all. Alex decided to eat in his underwear to ensure his stomach had room to expand. Noah liked this idea as well. They sat on the couch and quickly got to work. Alex downed fries, burgers, milkshakes, chicken nuggets, soda, tacos, and cookies. Noah sat with delight as he watched Alex’s round belly expand and begin to roll over the waistband of Alex’s underwear. “URRRP! Ok I need your help dude.” Alex said with shaky breath. Noah reached into one of the paper bags and pulled out donuts. Alex smiled and Noah began to slowly shove the fatty food into Alex’s mouth. Alex rubbed his bloated gut and moaned with pain but also some pleasure. It was the greatest thing Noah had ever experienced and Alex seemed to be enjoying it too. “Take off my underwear.” Alex said between bites. “I need room to grow.” Noah blushed and pulled off the tight underwear to reveal Alex’s boner. Noah began to stroke it as he continued shoving donuts down Alex’s throat. Alex moaned with each movement Noah made until the donuts were gone. Out of breath, the two men fucked as Noah continued to stuff Alex. The intense motions caused Alex’s new belly to jiggle and sway. Noah teased him as he shoved more food into his mouth. It was the hottest sex either of them had ever had, and they fell asleep cuddling, surrounded by food wrappers and crumbs.

I really like the idea of this story and I tried to make it a bit longer than my usual ones. Hope you guys enjoyed part one!

[sweetprfct]

Cruel Summer

Aaron Warner x Fem!Reader

Summary: You and Aaron Warner have been secretly seeing each other since the beginning of Spring. The problem is that your parents are part of Omega Point, the rebel group of The Reestablishment. While Aaron’s father runs The Reestablishment along with other leaders from other continent. From secret meetings to I love yous, you start questioning if all of this is worth taking the risk.

Author's Note: Hello, here's my first Aaron series. First off, I ctrl+delete Juliette in this AU. Second, Aaron is in his late twenties in this story and so is the reader. I try to make everything as accurate as possible but it has been a while since I read the first three books for the series, so I might forget certain details. Anyway, comments are welcome! Let me know if you want to be tagged. Enjoy! :)

Disclaimer: 18+, mention of violence, smut, MINORS DNI

Wordcount: 5.8K

part one - part two - part three - part four - part five

It was raining.

It was always raining these days. If not, the sky was dark and gloomy. You didn’t know how long since the last time you saw the sun. Since The Reestablishment had taken over and wars had broken out all around the world, the sky was just blanketed by dark gray skies. You remembered your childhood and how the world was back then. Sunny skies, pink sunsets, children on the playground. You would hear the ice cream truck around the neighborhood during summer. You remember spending Christmas and Thanksgiving with your family. It was your favorite time of the year. 

Autumn and Winter. 

Now, it was just cold, gloomy and rainy most days. The weather was pretty much unpredictable. Broken buildings, fires breaking out, civilians lost around the streets outside or getting shot if they didn’t follow The Reestablishment’s rules. You have seen the brutal things the government had done to those civilians, and it hurts to see them suffer and it hurts even more knowing you couldn’t do anything about it. Your parents had warned you to stay away from trouble. To always stay alert because you never know what The Reestablishment would do next.

Your parents were part of a secret organization called Omega Point. They ran it along with their friend Castle. The group took in people who have some sort of supernatural abilities and aimed to destroy The Reestablishment. You, however, didn’t have any special abilities. You were only part of the group because of your parents. 

Castle was always alert, and he seemed to know more than what he led on. You couldn’t help but wonder if your parents also knew more than what they usually would tell you. You were always good at spying and sneaking out. That was your talent and most of the time, you were always successful in your own little personal agendas. Your parents knew that too. So, you figured they wouldn’t lie to you, knowing that you would eventually find out anyway. 

There was that one time that your parents had caught you sneaking out of the Omega Point base back in the Spring. They were furious over it that you were stuck for two weeks in your room because they didn’t want you going anywhere. You didn’t care though because you had an interesting time that night. You had sneaked out and pretended that you were part of the little gathering of The Reestablishment’s leaders. You were always so curious as to what they did. Curious how great their life must be in that part of Sector 45. 

And you were right. 

Because you saw everything. They had everything they wanted as if the world didn’t burn down and everyone was living in this hell. Most civilians could barely find any food to feed themselves and here they were living like Kings and Queens. 

“Are you lost?” 

His voice made you jump. You were at the back of the building, looking through the window and trying to see what was happening inside. You never had anyone caught you before. Ever. Not even your parents when you were spying or sneaking out and here he was, standing over you. As you looked over your shoulder, you saw a man with blond hair and piercing green eyes. He was staring at you with some sort of curiosity. Some trespasser, he probably thought. You were, but that didn’t matter because you were supposed to act like you were part of this gathering. He was in uniform and on his uniform it said, “Sector 45 CCR, A. Warner.” Your eyes shifted at the name, and you knew then that you had to make up some excuse to convince him that you belong in this little gathering. 

“Um… no.” You shook your head, straightening your clothes. “Just trying to get some air.” 

His emerald eyes studied you as you stood there with your back straight, acting like there was confidence radiating out of you. However, you could feel your heart beating out of your chest. It was running a million miles per hour, and you were terrified that he would be able to hear it. He furrowed his brows and looked over his shoulder to see the dark clouds blanketing the city. You knew he was wondering what you meant by that because it had been a while since the world had an actual fresh air. It made you even terrified that he probably realized that you weren’t part of this little party. 

“Hm…” His eyes studied you from top to bottom. “Which continent are you from? I’ve never seen you before.”

Your heart was gone. You couldn’t feel it anymore as you tried to make up some excuse but thankfully, he was called by another soldier from a distance. You immediately hid behind the post, so you wouldn’t be seen and just like that, he walked away. A sigh of relief washed over you as you watched him enter the building with the soldier. 

Sneaking inside the building, you made sure everyone else was busy and made your way up the stairs. You didn’t bother taking the elevator since you might bump into some more people and then, you were met with a long hallway, bright fluorescent lights illuminating it.

It made you feel like you were in a hospital.

Walking down the hall, you found the Supreme Commander’s office. The name Anderson was on the door and quietly, you turned the knob and peered your head behind the door. It was empty and dark. You looked around the office and went around the desk to find some sort of evidence to prove that The Reestablishment was doing something wrong. 

Something that could help Omega Point take down The Reestablishment once and for all.

Letting out a sigh, you pulled one of the drawers, but it was locked. All of them needed a key. Looking through all the files on his desk, you couldn’t find anything interesting nor the key to open up one of the drawers. You figured maybe he kept it safe with him. Hearing footsteps coming from down the hall, you walked out of the office and rapidly walked back to the fire escape staircase only to be met with the same man again.

He furrowed his brows and tilted his head at you. “What are you doing here?”

You sighed, “Can’t find the bathroom. Where is it?”

He turned his head to the side and gave you a side eye before walking back down the stairs and led you down onto another long hallway. 

“Thanks.” You murmured and entered the restroom. 

You waited a few minutes until you saw the shadow of his footsteps disappear. Unlocking the door, you looked both ways before finding the exit and out the back of the building again. You quietly hid from the soldiers that were on the lookout until you felt a hand cover your mouth, and you were pulled into a dark alley. 

Your fight and flight mode immediately turned on as you struggled in the person’s grip. You tried to reach for your knife in your back pocket, but the person was pulling you in their arms too quickly. Using your elbow, you jabbed the person right on their stomach as they groaned softly from the pain. You told your legs to start running as fast as you could, but you felt their hand grab your wrist and immediately, all you felt was the stinging pain on your back by the brick wall.

The light from the post illuminated his face, and you saw that it was the same man you met earlier. He pinned you against the wall, his hand clamped over your mouth, and his green eyes were wide. He quietly held up his index finger in front of his lips to let you know to be quiet as you both heard footsteps from a soldier from a distance.

He pulled you away from the light and hid you from the dark corner until the soldier had disappeared.

“Who are you?!” You whispered, anger in your voice. “Why do you keep following me?!”

An amused soft laugh escaped from him as his face leaned closer to yours. 

“I should be asking you that, love.” He whispered. “Who are you, and why are you sneaking around the building?”

You swallowed every emotion that was washing over you right now. Your heart was beating a thousand miles as you stared into his eyes. They were icy pale green. His features were sharp, and he looked sort of beautiful. Almost unreal.

“You could answer me or I could get one of the soldiers to throw you out or worse.” He added, his voice was cold and stern, his spare hand finding his gun on his holster. 

Your eyes followed where his hand was, and you kept your mouth shut. You couldn’t say a word. You couldn’t risk putting your parents and all your friends in danger because of one mistake that you made. Maybe you should have listened to your parents. Maybe you should have stayed back in the base and all of this wouldn’t have happened. He stared at you for a moment, his eyes studied you and his brows furrowed.

“I’m a nobody.” You finally replied, your voice stuttering. “J..Just lost.”

His eyes kept studying you until he took a step back and finally let go of you. You exhaled a sharp breath and looked at him for a moment. He looked distressed. He looked lonely. You didn’t really understand how you knew that, but you could see it in his eyes. 

“Go before someone sees you.” He said, his head hung low. 

You were ready to run because you should be, right? So, how come your legs weren’t moving? How come you couldn’t bear to leave him like that? 

“Y… You’re just gonna let me go?” You asked. 

He lifted his head, his eyes boring into yours. It made your heart beat faster again as he said, “Be glad I’m irritated tonight. I don’t have the energy to take you into a prison cell or kill you and make a whole scene.”

Taking a few steps back, you looked over your shoulder one more time before running off. That was when you were met with your parents when you arrived back at the base. They were furious. Asking you a bunch of different questions as to where you were and how dare you leave the base without letting anyone know. Your best friend, Kenji, was standing behind them. A disappointed look in his eyes as they sent you to your room and told you that you were going to be watched for the next two weeks to make sure you weren’t going to make any more reckless decisions.

Then, after two weeks passed, you found yourself outside the Omega Point base. You were walking near the water, your thoughts pinwheeling and wondering how long were you all going to hide? You kept asking if this was how the world was going to be until you died. Kept wondering how much more damage The Reestablishment would do until everything would fall apart even more. Wondering what else they did underneath all those metal tall buildings. What decisions and plans were they planning? 

Then, you felt that familiar touch grab you by the wrist. You let out a small shriek as you were pulled in the nearby forest—at least what was left of it—

“You.” Your eyes widened. 

You looked around for soldiers but there was no sign of them. You had told Kenji what happened that night. You described the soldier as someone who looked unreal, beautiful and part of you thought you were dreaming that night. 

“I don’t know, maybe there’s something in the air at their base.” You lightly teased. 

“You said his uniform said CCR A. Warner?” Kenji’s eyes widened. 

“Yes, why?”

You saw the worry that washed over Kenji’s face as he said, “That’s Anderson’s son. Warner is the most brutal and heartless Chief Commander in Sector 45. Jesus Christ, Princess!” 

Anderson’s son? You knew about him, but you hadn't realized it was him, especially with the fact that his name was Warner, not Anderson.

“Brutal and heartless?” You tilted your head. “Then… Then why’d he let me go that easily?”

“I don’t know but there’s something wrong about it. You need to be more careful! You don't know his agenda, and you might end up dead next time.”

Warner. 

Kenji’s words echoed in your head as you shook your wrist from his grip. You didn’t know what it was but there was something in his eyes today. Some concern he was feeling. If he was so heartless like Kenji said then why could you see the human inside him? 

The son of the Supreme Commander of Sector 45. Warner was the Chief Commander and Regent. The man that the soldiers were afraid of because of how cold he was. He could kill someone in a heartbeat and not have an emotion over it. How much of a robot he was as Kenji told you. You still couldn’t understand why he let you go unharmed. How he didn’t kill you for spying. You didn’t understand one bit of it. 

“What are you doing here?” You asked, your voice was low and ice cold. “Are you here to kill me? If so, just do it now—”

“No.” He shook his head, his eyes stared at the ground. “I know who you are.” 

He took your hand and dragged you further in the forest until you both saw the lake. He dropped your hand and pinched the bridge of his nose and paced back and forth in front of you. He whispered your name, and you wondered how he knew that. Although, knowing that he was the son of the Supreme Commander, you realized they probably kept files of everyone. 

“You’re part of Omega Point.” He stated, his tracks stopped and he stood in front of you. 

You felt your heart drop to your stomach. If he knew about you, then he probably would have known all the members of Omega Point. Kenji, Castle, you… your parents. 

Maybe you knew nothing of this world after all. Knew nothing about what The Reestablishment did nor what Castle and your parents knew about the new world. 

“H…How did you—” You shook your head.

“Doesn’t matter.” He took a step closer. “My father…” He took a deep breath. “I think…he’s killing… children. Killing certain people.”

You didn’t say a word. That revelation was a shock to you, but you knew there was something going on. You knew it was more than just taking over the world. More than just building up a new world, new rules and destroying every bit of history from the past. 

“That was why you were there, weren’t you?” Warner asked, his voice was stern. “You knew about this?”

“No.” You said. “I… I knew there’s something more going on. I was there to find evidence, but I wasn’t able to.”

“Well, I did.” Warner replied, his head shaking. “I think…”

“I…I’m sorry.” That was all you could manage.

You didn’t exactly understand why he was here. Why was he telling you all of this? What did he want from you? Why did he risk coming out here to talk to you? 

“I’m not.” He said. “I knew my father was vile… A psychopath.”

“What are you saying?”

“I want to help take him down.” His green eyes went dark as it met yours. “I want to kill him.”

A small gasp escaped your lips as he took another step forward towards you. You could feel your heart pounding in your chest as Warner looked up and stared at something behind you. 

“Meet me in that cabin at night.” He murmured. “I will look for more information and evidence that could help.”

You followed his eyes and saw the cabin just not too far. It was behind the tall redwood trees. This forest was the only thing left of this broken world, and you didn’t even realize there was a cabin right there. It was too hidden. 

“But—” 

But before you could say anything Warner had already left. You were left in the middle of the woods with your thoughts again. In the beginning, you were terrified to actually go through and believe what Warner said. You didn’t know him and he was part of The Reestablishment. How would you know that you could trust him? How do you know that he wasn’t playing a double agent? 

When you had sneaked out that night to the cabin, you brought yourself a few weapons in your pocket just in case you needed them. You couldn't bear to let Kenji know what you were doing. At least until you were sure about all of this.

Looking around the forest, you saw no sign of other soldiers, but you couldn’t help but wonder if they were just hiding. Entering the cabin quietly, you found Warner sitting by the fireplace. He had documents laid out all over the coffee table and wooden floors. You closed the door behind you and studied the image in front of you. For a moment, you slowly started to believe what he told you. He did brought the evidence. He brought every document he could find in his father’s office. 

“What are these?” You asked, settling yourself on the floor next to him.

You couldn’t help but notice that he was in his suit. Did this man ever wore anything else other than his uniform and suits? Your eyes then studied his blond hair, his long golden lashes and his eyes that were focused on the papers in front of him.

“Records of the children that mysteriously disappeared.” He said, gazing up at you. “But there was no evidence why they disappeared.” 

He gazed up at you, green eyes staring into yours. It was almost enchanting that you had to look away and focus your attention on the papers in front of you. Both of you spent the night looking through the documents, but you both couldn’t seem to find anything. They were all just records saying that they either died from an accident or they disappeared out of nowhere. No hard evidence at all.

Then, another night came and another and another. Kenji started noticing your late night routine until you finally told him the truth.

“Are you insane?!” He whisper-yelled in the middle of the hall. “This is not a good idea, Princess.”

“Just please trust me?” You pleaded. “Just please cover for me if my parents or Castle look for me.”

“Nuh uh!” Kenji shook his head. “I’m not going to agree with your little suicidal plan with Warner.”

“Kenji, he could be the key to finding all these records. I’ve seen it. Please just give us more time.”

Kenji stared at you for a moment before exhaling a sharp breath and said, “I hope you realized who you are talking to every night in that secluded cabin.”

A smile creeped up on your face as you pulled your best friend into a hug and thanked him. Then, a week of meeting with Warner had become two weeks then one month. Then, two months until Spring ended and Summer finally came. Not that it mattered since the weather stayed the same. It was rainy, dark and gloomy. 

The more you spent with Warner, the more you saw a different side of him. His walls were slowly unraveling in front of you, but it wasn’t to the point where you knew his personal secrets. His personal life. You have never seen him smile, he was always so serious. But he had told you about his father and how his mother died. That was the closest personal thing you have known about him.

It was awful.

His father tortured her and gave her drugs until she turned into almost like a wild animal. Warner mentioned how his mother’s ability was that no one could touch her, but her power was so strong that she could feel the pain of her own skin and suffered until she died from it. You were slowly understanding why he hated his father and why he was rebelling against him.

At least you thought you understood all of it until that one night… 

“Here.” He handed you a box.. 

“What is this?” You furrowed your brows and opened up the box.

Inside, there was wrapping paper and once you had ripped it open, you found a green dress, almost the same color as his eyes. You held up the dress in front of you and then stared at him, confused.

“What is this for?” You asked.

“You don’t like it?” He grabbed the dress from your hands. “I’ll change it. I don’t know your favorite color.”

He couldn’t even look at you. He was staring at the dress in his hands and then, you realized something. The dress was the most obvious one out of all the things he brought every time you met up with him. It was food at the beginning. Then, a nice blanket. Told you that it gets cold at night in the cabin, and it annoyed him to see you shivering all night. Then, you found some fancy soaps in the bathroom, which you never understood because you never took a shower in the cabin. Then, the cabin was slowly being decorated nicely. You thought maybe he was trying to make it a lot cozier. 

But no.

He was doing all of this for you. He was giving you gifts, but why? 

“No,” you took the dress back from his hands. “I like it. Thanks.”

You studied the dress in your hands for a moment then, you felt his presence in front of you. Suddenly, you felt the air between the two of you shift. His fingers found a strand of hair from your face as he tucked it behind your ear. You gazed up at him through your lashes and found his face inches from yours.

You couldn’t breathe. 

His fingers brushed gently against your cheek, and a small gasp escaped your lips. He never touched you. He was always distant even when he was sitting next to you. It was almost like there was a wall between the two of you but the moment you felt his touch, all of a sudden, you saw that wall crack. 

“You’d look beautiful in that dress.” He whispered.

The air in your lungs suddenly gave out. The wall he had put up between the two of you had split open. 

“Warner, I… I don’t understand what’s happening.” Your words stuttered, you could barely find your voice.

His hands then cupped your face as his green eyes were staring deep into yours. His eyes sparkled, and you were a glass almost breaking into pieces. His touch was the only thing that was keeping you glued together for a moment. He held your face like you were something so delicate that he was afraid he'd break you if he wasn’t careful.

“Do you know how much it’s killing me that I can’t hold you?” He murmured. “How much it’s killing me that I can’t stop thinking about you every second of the day?”

“Y…You can’t stop thinking about me?” 

His thumb traced the outline of your lips before his nose grazed against yours. You held your breath as you closed your eyes. You could feel the heat radiating off your body and all of a sudden, you couldn’t think straight anymore. 

“I can’t stop thinking about your eyes, these lips…” his thumb softly touched your lips, almost like a feather-like touch. “...your voice—god, your voice.”

His hand slipped at the back of your head before he said, “I don’t want to scare you away.”

Your breath hitched, “You’re not.”

His sharp features were right in front of you, and his eyes studied each detail of you. You forgot what it was like to breathe. Time has stopped. Time froze the moment he pressed his lips against yours, and you didn’t hesitate to kiss him back. He tasted so sweet. He tasted like peppermint. He kissed you hungrily and desperately like he has been waiting for this for a long time. He pulled you close and pressed your body against his. Your hands slid on his chest, and you could feel his chest heaving as he let his lips trailed down your jawline and down your neck.

You were gone.

You didn’t know how you were still alive because you had stopped breathing a long time ago. His kisses sent shivers down your body. It was something you never experienced before. Never felt before. It was so soft and at the same time, it was something so special. A luxury that you never tasted before. 

Warner scooped you up in his arms and carried you towards the bedroom, setting you gently on the bed. For a moment, he pulled away from the kiss. Both of you were breathless, and his fingers were caressing your face softly.

“I…I’ve been wanting to do that for a long time.” He whispered. 

You gazed up at him, breathless. “Then, kiss me again.” You murmured before pulling him close to you again. 

His lips kissed down your neck and down to your collarbone as he tugged on your shirt and pulled it over your head. You couldn’t breathe. You weren’t here anymore. His lips trailed down to your chest, and his hand gripped your hips as you ran your fingers through his hair. A jar of butterflies exploded in your stomach and fluttered all over your body. 

“Warner.” You whispered.

“Yes, love?” He gazed up at you. 

“Are… Are you sure about this?” 

Your heart was drumming hard in your chest and you swore, he could hear it. There was nothing more you wanted than this, but you knew how complicated the situation was. You didn’t want to wake up tomorrow and find him gone. You didn’t want to wake up and find out that he regretted it. Most of all, you wanted to trust him. Believe him that this was real. 

“I’ve never wanted anything more than this, love.” He said. “You’re consuming every part of my soul, and I can’t explain why.”

You slid your hand behind his head and pulled him down to kiss him deeply. Your heart was pounding hard, and you felt the world stopped around you. 

It was just you and him. 

You fumbled through the buttons of his shirt and immediately slid it over his broad shoulders. Pulling away from the kiss, you gazed down at his body, your fingers ran down his bare skin and you heard a breathless gasp escape his lips. Your fingers ran through the hills and curves of his muscles on his stomach. Then, you saw his tattoo that sits right on the bottom of his torso. Just below his hip bone. 

Hell is empty and all the devils are here. 

Your fingers grazed over the words, and you saw Warner’s chest went up and down as you continued to touch him.

“So… beautiful.” You whispered. 

However, you didn’t know what happened or what you said to him because you saw something shifted inside him. His eyes had gone dimmed and he immediately pulled away from you. You furrowed your brows and questions started running in your mind.

“What is it?” You asked.

“I…” He shook his head. 

You were confused. You watched as he repeatedly shook his head. He looked embarrassed. He got up from the bed and so did you. He kept taking a step back, and he looked jittery. 

You never saw him like this before.

“Warner…” You took a step forward.

You wanted to reach for him, but he was pulling away from you, and you didn’t understand why. You thought this was what he wanted. 

“I’m not…” His voice stuttered. 

Then, when he bent down to pick up his shirt from the floor, a gasp escaped your lips. Immediately, you walked towards him. You hesitated to touch him, but you saw it. You saw all of it. 

Scars.

His back was covered with them. Right on his upper back, just between his shoulder blades, there was also a tattoo that said:

IGNITE.

“W—What happened?” You asked, your fingers finally grazing over the scarred skin of his back. 

He winced from your touch as he turned around to face you. His face looked like he was in pain as he stared at you for a moment. 

“It’s repulsive, I know.” He said, sliding his shirt back in his body. “They’re birthday gifts from my father from when I was five until I was eighteen.”

You couldn’t help but clamped over a hand on your mouth, another gasp escaping from you. You felt the tears welled up in your eyes as you shook your head. Warner couldn’t even look at you. He turned his head to the side and stared at the wall. 

“I’m not beautiful, love.” He murmured. “I’m repulsive, and I’ve killed people before. Tortured them…” 

You were frozen for a moment. Trying to comprehend everything that you just learned. You knew his father was vile and a psychopath but the thought of Aaron having to go through that kind of abuse? The thought of him being trained by his father to kill people? Anger washed over you. Turning to face him, you walked across the room and cupped his face in your hands, letting his green eyes find yours.

“You’re not repulsive, and I’m not redacting my statement.” You said sternly. 

There wasn’t anything else that you needed to say to convince him to believe you because he was now cupping your face in his hands, his emerald eyes sparkling. You could hear your heart drumming in your ears as he pulled you in for another kiss. A hungry and desperate one but at the same time, it was all so soft like cotton candy. You slid his shirt away from his shoulders again as he carried you to the bed and towered over you. He was breathless as he kissed down your body, and you swore the room started to spin.

You couldn’t help but wonder if this was what heaven was like. If this was it. If you finally died and went to heaven. If you did, it was peaceful. Quiet. The only one that was looking at you was this man with piercing green eyes and leaving you soft feathered kisses all over your body like you were something new. Like he had never had something like this in his life, and he was afraid that he'd lose it if he didn’t hold on to it tightly. 

Your thoughts were gone as soon as you felt him unzipping your pants. The rest of your clothes were on the floor, and you were lying naked in front of him. You felt the blood rushed to your face as he studied you, a small smile lingering on his lips.

“So enchanting.” He whispered before pressing his face on your neck and leaving soft kisses on your skin. 

“I think…” He breathed heavily. “...my heart has exploded a million times.”

You smiled softly and cupped his face, looking right at him. You have never known this kind of look before. You have never seen anyone look at you like this before. Repeating the words that Warner just told you, you couldn’t help but think about how your heart also exploded a million times because this…

This was everything. 

Being with him was like a safe bubble that you wished you never wanted to leave. If you were asked, you would stay in this cabin forever. You didn’t care about anything else. You just wanted to be with him everyday and that was how it went for the next few weeks. You sneaked out of the base and saw Warner almost every night. It was an escape from this cruel world. A happiness you never knew existed but time was never enough. 

It was always never enough.

You always found yourself going back to the base in the early mornings, hoping you wouldn’t be caught by anyone. It was the perfect time since everyone would be asleep and the streets were empty during those hours. 

“You’re late.” 

You stopped in your tracks right before entering your room and turned around to find Kenji standing with his arms crossed in front of his chest. Sometimes you hated the fact that his power was invisibility because this man always appeared out of nowhere.

“Only five minutes late.” You corrected him. 

“I don’t like this, Princess.” Kenji said.

You looked around to make sure no one was around before pulling Kenji inside your room and let out a sigh. 

“Please, Kenji.” You murmured. “I do appreciate you covering for me every night but please understand that this is important to me.”

“Important?” Kenji raised his brow. “You’re meeting up with Warner. Anderson’s son. You know, the one who made this whole shit show of a world in the first place? The one we’re trying to take down?”

“I know, I know.” You raised a hand up to stop him. “But he isn’t like that. He understands what we do, and he wants to help.”

Kenji let out a scoff. “How sure are you that he can be trusted?”

“Because I know.” Your eyes were pleading for him to understand. 

“How sure are you that he isn’t using you just to get information about us too?” 

“Because he also hates his father and besides, we haven’t talked about that in a while.” You felt your cheeks heat up as you remembered Warner for a moment. 

Kenji was suddenly all scrunched up in disgust as he shook his head. “Ew. That’s gross. Don’t ever say that again to me.” 

“Just please, trust me? We will figure this all out soon. He’s trying.” 

Kenji let out a sigh and nodded his head. “Just be careful out there. It’s dangerous and honestly, I don’t like the fact that you are running around late at night out there.”

“Please,” You said, holding back from rolling your eyes. “I can handle myself, Kenji.”

“I know you can but still.” 

You laughed softly. You were grateful for Kenji and besides the fact that you knew he wasn’t really agreeing with this whole thing, you were still glad that he always understood you and never doubted you. 

“Whatever you say, Princess.” Kenji said before walking out the door. 

Flopping yourself on the bed, you exhaled sharply and stared at the ceiling. You couldn’t help but wonder if Kenji was right. Warner was Anderson’s son and even if he gotten pretty good at sneaking out of the base, you were terrified that one day his father might find out. Then, what was going to happen? It would risk everything. 

Everyone. 

***********

Taglist:

@gracie-221 @his-littlefox @hannahmarie71 @ecliphttlunar @indythefandomhoarder @reminiscentreader @hrtsbecca @soulaires @shattermelyhfmlblog @wildesqdreams @pookiebearnancy @ant-thebooknerd @boliviajane

[meeks-just-wants-to-scroll]

thank you

kieran is a decent shot but is terrifying with a knife (people are not that different to fish). 110% he would win a 1v1 knife fight every time and thanks to army training he's pretty decent at disarming people in hand on hand combat. would take a knife to a gun fight and have a chance of winning

probably taller than 90% of the gang if he actually corrected his posture

his parents died when he was a proper baby only 8 or 9 and he pick-pocketed to survive along with a bunch of other urchins like the saint denis gang. he's still pretty good at it and is really good at being stealthy/light on his feet despite his stature (helpful for not getting noticed by the crueler VDLs)

he also became a pretty good liar and con artist as part of living on the street and getting out of trouble when caught (this is heavily inspired by how differently he treats gang members, happily tells karen he is a baby to get sympathy, people-pleasing 'whatever you say miss with mary-beth, needles arthur back a bit when they go fishing)

probably has a touch of the old imposter syndrome because he never really had the chance to figure out who he was he's just been focused on survival since since day 1. he loves horses because he doesn't have to worry about what mask he has to wear with them

he's frankly not sure how old he is on account of how young he was when his parents died. he enlisted for the army when he looked old enough, in reality he was probs only 17 and barely got in based on his facial hair, which he had never shaved a day in his life since it started growing (hc late 20s/early 30s in game)

he was in the infantry division. consistent food and routine after a decade of fighting for scraps and being spit on? he loved it. very upstanding, attentive, kept his uniform clean and sharp. was there years before he saw active combat. then he fucking hated it. refused to follow orders. was not dying over land. was not shooting at unarmed people. dishonorably discharged. would have deserted if they didn't.

looks like an absolute fucking baby without facial hair and would sooner bite someone than be clean shaven because he hates it

gets very irritable when he hasn't had a cigarette for a while. has picked cigarette butts of the ground for a quick hit. would have broken faster about six point cabin if they offered him a cigarette.

lying through his teeth about his time with the o'driscolls. he was probably with them closer to a year, and a little higher than bottom-rung. got to pick and choose what missions he went on, talk to colm directly, most knew his name ect. i cannot see him having the balls to argue with colm o'driscoll himself unless he had some level of protection/seniority within the gang esp given the circumstances of how he joined. he was trusted enough to ride off on his own without running off?

in saying that. he was definitely considering running off in colter. at no point does he try to fight arthur. no way he wasn't armed. just oh no i am being abducted this is v bad. don't give me food for weeks? still like you more than colm can i stay with you pls

AHHH!!! I READ THIS THE DAY YOU SENT IT BUT I DIDN’T KNOW HOW TO RESPOND BECAUSE I WASN’T REALLY EXPECTING PEOPLE TO ACTUALLY SEND IN THEIR HEADCANONS, THANK YOU THESE ARE WONDERFUL!

:D You explained these all beautifully and I feel like I couldn’t say much more, but I’ll try to “yes and…” everything you said because I feel it is worth exploring these ideas you proposed. Long HC ramble under the divider.

1) I don’t know much about 1800’s military training but I can see Kieran being a knife guy like you said. He has a custom knife in game (at the very least he has a custom pistol). Him being good with a knife makes me think of how he comes off as unarmed from a distance but harbors a wicked knife up close. I am sure he mainly uses his knife for cutting fishing line or whittling sticks in his free time. He used it for cutting up animals he hunted while with his past gang. That knife has gotten him through a lot, it’s practically an heirloom at this point; it kept him alive and is one of the few things he fully owns and kept from his youth.

2+3+4) lanky scary guy is stealthy!! Yes!! I would like to mention how no one in the VDL gang noticed Kieran wandering off and getting a gun belt from a corpse during the firefight in A Social Call Mission. He did all of that AND was swift enough to save Arthur. I agree that he was very young when his parents died. I more so think 11-13 in my HC but that’s just because I feel like the stables would rather kick out a tween/teen than a little kid. This blends into your 4th point about being a con artist. Kieran knows his strengths and weaknesses. He knows that people see a scrawny little boy before they see him as a thief. Squirming and squabbling can be enough of a distraction to get away with things.

I don’t have a good explanation for how Kieran did this since he can’t leave camp, but while I was playing, I saw Kieran donated a jewel necklace to the camp funds (and not to brag on his behalf, but he donated WAY MORE $$ than the other members 🤭). Kieran still can pull his weight in pickpocketing, even in game. I imagine he does it without straying too far from camp by pretending he is sick or hungry and thirsty on the side of well traveled paths and getting close enough to strangers to swipe something. It’s subtle enough to not draw attention to camp, yet effective enough to be worth it in the long run.

5+6) I agree on imposter syndrome! One hc I have is that Kieran was raised an only child while traveling westward to California with his parents meaning he had no consistent kids his age to be with. Even in the military (where he SHOULD be surrounded by his peers) he never really connected in a genuine way. Being roughened up by being an outlaw after that just made it harder to emotionally connect since so much required not breaking down if a group member dies. It’s odd; Kieran is unwilling to be vulnerable, but he isn’t this stoic wall. Instead he has this decoy vulnerability?… he’d rather people see him as a weak guy if it gets him out of a physical hurt yet he won’t be vulnerable if it means running the risk of being emotionally hurt.

7) I know very little about 1800’s military (and my cursory research has been shallow thus far) but I imagine it was better than being homeless and orphaned! Food, shelter and routine, like you said. I imagine Kieran was an obedient and hard working kid; helped his family with horses, fishing and hunting. Pre-outlaw Kieran felt conflicted about killing people. I mean… he joined the army so he isn’t clueless that he had to kill, but killing on paper vs actually killing is very different, plus he was a puny teen without a fully developed brain when he enlisted.

Once Kieran became an outlaw, he had to make some sort of peace / find some silver lining to killing. You have to have morally dubious ways of coping with being an outlaw or else you go mad. One way was him (guiltily or not) finding some thrill in gunfights or knife fights. Made him feel good for once about being an easy to underestimate guy. He got to taunt, shout, and watch his enemies faces contort in pain and horror.

8) the facial hair stuff!! I agree that Kieran likely looks like an exhausted young adult under all the scruff. I imagine Kieran has put value into his unkempt looks. He does care for hygiene (source: he says it in cut audio) but he can’t bring himself to trim his facial or head hair because he feels it is the only thing making him a man. Like you said, imposter syndrome, he doesn’t feel like he’s an actual adult who has his life together. I’m sure Kieran has some out-dated ideas of what makes a man (out-dated by modern day standards). Stuff like being strong, a provider, hairy, deep voiced, etc. Kieran isn’t many of those things. Having a snaggly beard is his tiny grasp on meeting what he wishes he could be. I also think he hasn’t cut his hair that much because of a lack of salons while being an outlaw.

9) I honestly forget most of the characters in RDR2 smoke… but I agree! Growing up with a smoker as a parent who tried to quite cold turkey a few times, I know how hellish withdrawal is on a person. While in Colter, tied up, Kieran was the most bellicose because of withdrawals peaking (upon other things). I feel like some point between his parent’s dying and him joining the outlaws was when he took up smoking.

10+11) Kieran was DEFINITELY lying about how involved he was with the O’Drisc, agreed. I see him as being with them for likely 6 months to a year. Maaayyybe more but I feel like Kieran ran with his prior gang for most of his adult life. To me, Kieran is fibbing a half truth when he says he wasn’t close with Colm and he was merely a stable boy. He WAS that, but with being an obedient, hardworking chore boy, he was kept around long enough to make it up little by little till he was on missions out of camp collecting supplies or defending territory/camp. Kieran was always a pawn, never someone Colm actually cared for. Kieran was just the least-annoying gang goon Colm could bring into the mountains to watch the horses in the cold stables. The fact Kieran was even spotted by the VDL gang was bad luck.

I don’t know why he is riding out of the camp solo before Arthur catches him ;-; my best guess would be Kieran was going to meet up with other members but when a fight with the O’Drisc vs VDL broke out in camp, Kieran took it as his chance to get the fuck out of there.

On the topic of getting the fuck out, Kieran didn’t fight as much as he could when Arthur got him, I agree. When his life depends on it, he will fight like a cornered animal, all knife slashing and wild-eyed. Whether Kieran fights or goes limp and pleads pathetically depends on the situation. When Kieran fled from the O’Drisc camp firefight, he knew he wouldn’t last out there unless he got off the mountain. Being snatched and dragged to an enemy camp was better than dying of exposure. I mean… everything in his life sucks. Kieran gets no easy options. Sometimes he just has to go limp and be tied up and see where life brings him.

His relationship with Colm is interesting. I don’t think Colm cares very much about Kieran (keep in mind I don’t actually know Colm’s character well since I haven’t finished the game). From what Kieran describes of him, I feel it was all things Kieran observed or eavesdropped on while doing chores or sitting around the camp. Who knows tho! I am open to the idea that Kieran was of higher rank and indeed had more reasons to talk with Colm directly. I don’t know much about the O’Driscoll gang inner workings.

Ah!! Once again, thank you so much :) I love all your headcanons and it was a blast brainstorming about your ideas.

[r0-boat]

Harpy!Larry anon again! I was so happy with the last ask I almost cried 🥹🥹🥹 You have no idea how many times Ive tried..!!!

Can I request a short drabble about Harpy!Larry protecting his s/o? Maybe his partner was out collecting berries where they suddenly get attacked or something, and bird man is NOT having it

👀

*heavy breathing*

The way I have the scene photographed in my mind.

Don't Touch Wife!

Cw: gendered nickname (Larry does not understand the concept of gendered nicknames he calls you wife because he thinks he is married to you him being the groom) But the reader is gender-neutral.

You wake up to an empty nest again—your 'husband,' probably off-gathering breakfast. Without your husband's warm, soft, feathery body, you are called alone. You try to snuggle in the blankets, protecting yourself from the chili morning air as it has yet to break the horizon, but it's not the same.

Your 'husband' will leave the nest for hours at a time leaving you nothing to do Sometimes bring back food sometimes not.

You sigh, laying your head back on the mass of blankets, pillows, and straws. You only lay there for 10 minutes before feeling restless. You can't do this. Before you became his 'stay-at-home wife,' You were a working adult working tirelessly as much as you loved not being able to work anymore; you have to admit being in the nest with nothing to do was driving you crazy.

You looked outside the cave opening and at the mountainous valley just below it. Surrounded by mountains, the ground is covered with dense trees.

A sense of curiosity flows through you... 'I would only be gone for a few minutes.' You thought to yourself. As you climbed down the rocky wall, you thanked Larry for choosing a nesting spot close to the ground. Losing your foot, and you still fell onto your ass.

It hurt. But it would have been much worse if you lived somewhere much higher.

The soft green grass on your bare feet, you wandered aimlessly till your eyes laid upon a splash of color in the endless green—a patch of beautiful flowers, all sorts of vibrant colors. Your eyes lit up at the thought of surprising your husband or perhaps decorating the nest the two of you share; whatever it was, you were gathering them, humming a tune to yourself with a smile on your face as you gathered a handful of these beautiful wildflowers.

That's when you felt a chill run through you. As if you are being watched. You look around in the dense woodlands.

Nothing but the shadows peering back.

Your heart pounding as you convince yourself it's just your anxiety before going back to picking. Until.

Snap.

You snap your head to the sound of foliage being trampled. That's when you see it peering into the golden eyes of a mountain lion. Peering into you, its body is low to the ground. Your eyes widen before you can react at lunges.

Everything was so quick as you felt yourself being buried into feathers. When you opened your eyes, you saw familiar black.

Larry! Your husband! His claws dug into the big cat. The mountain lion gets off of him, realizing you are not alone. It backs away, still keeping its eyes on your husband. Larry spreads his wings, blocking you from view. A sharp bird-like sound comes from his throat, a sound you definitely never heard of before. The mountain lion realizing that Larry was not worth the trouble runs away. Larry closes his wings as you realized the predator was gone. Before you could say anything Larry wraps his arms around you holding you close in case you want a tight hug his arms squeezing around you his face buried into your shoulder.

His voice was muffled against your skin, but you could still hear him. "I checked this morning, and you were gone; I thought as though you left me."

Your heart broke at your words, wrapping your arms around him. In return, your fingers grazed through his black hair.

"no no. I was coming right back."

There was a moment of silence before you felt your world spin and your back hitting all the flowers you were picking before. Larry pins you to the ground, and the petals go everywhere.

"You shouldn't have left. You were almost killed; I almost lost you."His eyebrows furrowed, and his teeth clenched, another side of him you've never seen. "Uses wings and clothes around the both of you. You could feel the world growing dim as you tried to defend yourself. "Larry, you leave for hours at a time. I have nothing to do at home."

He's silent, with a bit of light escaping through his feathers, and you can feel his hand caress your cheek. You can still see how his dark eyes scrape over every part of your face and body. He stays silent for a few agonizing minutes before lifting his wings.

"All right, my apologies. I did not realize you'd waited so long for my return. I will have to bring you with me."

Your eyes widen. "Wait- Larry that's not what I-"

Too late. He holds you in his arms, carrying you as his wings begin to lift you and himself off the ground, bringing you back home.

Oh well. Changing your husband's mind once he made it up was no use.

[dickinfectionbez]

The boat rocked gently, waves pushing it side to side.

Casey looked at the man sunbathing on his left. Enea lay on a towel, blissfully unaware of Casey's gaze. He didn't usually go for Italians, his history with them being more trouble than it's worth.

He also didn't go for men.

But Enea, he was something else. He was the feeling of warmth, tangible under Casey's fingers. He was a reminder that not everything had to be fought, instead something's were worth fighting for. So here he was, on a boat off the coast of Australia with his Italian lover. A boat trip they both looked forward to, a long list of fish they could catch together.

Casey lay down on his side, fingertips drumming against his mouth as he watched Enea stretch. He let his eyes wonder over his tanned chest, his strong thighs and shorts that covered barely anything. They were out far enough that nobody could see their boat. Just enough privacy without the fear of being lost at sea.

"Are you going to stare or come lie down with me?" Enea said, eyes still closed. Casey huffed half a chuckle, tossing his hat off his head as he strode over. Enea lay with an arm over his eyes and the other flat against the boat, open for Casey to lay his head on. Casey complied, a million thoughts flying through his head, all of them consisting on Enea beneath him panting his name. "What fish do you think we could have caught if we had poles?" Enea asked, moving his head so his nose rested against his lover's.

Casey's mind blanked, the blood from his brain rushing down to his second head. "We forgot the poles?" Enea laughed, pressing a kiss to Casey's cheekbone. "We forgot the poles, most of the food we packed and only have one towel." Casey shuffled to straddle Enea, his face tucked into the crook of his neck, "well let me make it up to you."

The waves lapped against the boat as Casey held his wrists in his hands, mouth pressed flush against Enea's warm skin. "You can catch a few different types of fish here." He said, mouth moving back on Enea's neck, leaving a bruised splodge. He dragged his lips down, pulling a whine from Enea.

"Breem." Casey said, sucking on Enea's collarbone.

"Snapper," he said into the dip of his pecs.

"Trout," Enea arched his back as Casey let go of his hands to hold his waist.

"Tuna," Casey's upper teeth tuck beneath Enea's shorts, pulling on them.

He didn't move, just looking up with his shorts between his teeth. "Do you want to hear the other fish?" Casey asked, thumbs dipping under his waistband. Enea gasped as Casey pulled his shorts down and off. "Fuck the fish," Enea said, hands in Casey's hair. "Didn't know I was named fish now." Casey said, nose tucked against the base of Enea's dick. Enea shook his head with a smile, his laugh cut short into a wobbly sigh.

He didn't take his time, spinning Enea's moan and whines into pleads. Not today, not when the sun was shining down. Not when Enea was under his fingertips, patiently waiting. There was time for that later but now, now was the time Casey wanted nothing but his pleasure. He pumped Enea, sucking on the skin where his hip connected to his thigh. Casey listened to the sharp gasps as he pressed his tongue flat against the vein on the underside of Enea's cock. He trailed up, resting his lips around his head.

Enea bucked up, back arched and off the towel as Casey tucked his hands onto his butt, pulling him back down. He dragged his hand from beneath him, resting on his hip. "Let me take care of you." Casey whispered gently, taking Enea filling into his mouth as he began to bob his head. "Oh fuck. Casey oh." Enea began, the words quickly flowing out of him. He pressed his head down, turning to the side as his head began to spin. Enea became louder, jaw slack as he pleaded and moaned, squirming under Casey as he came down his throat.

Casey swallowed, resting back on his knees as his own boner was making itself known. Enea lay still, eyes closed as small tears dotted his lashes. Casey grabbed his phone, taking a quick picture before laying down next to Enea. They both turned onto their sides, one on Casey's legs resting on Enea's thighs. Enea snaked a hand down, palm resting pressed against his balls. "What other fish can we catch?" He asked, biting softly on his earlobe. Casey hummed, thinking as Enea dragged his fingertips up.

"Mackerel is pretty common," Casey said as Enea wrapped his hand around his length. "There's Saratoga," Enea flicked his wrist faster, pressing his lips against Casey's. As he moved his hand faster, Casey groaned, Enea slipping his tongue into his open mouth. He tasted himself on his tongue, on the side of Casey's mouth and on the roof. A cloud blocked the sun, Casey's eyes screwed shut as he came, cum splattering over both their stomachs and Enea's hand.

They lay in silence, Casey pulling Enea closer, their breaths in sync as the sun came out, bathing them both in light.

[vulpixisananimal]

Hunger: Carrion!Sif

The smell of cooking meat was tantalizing. It made Siffrin’s insides squirm and ache in hunger. It’d been a while since they’d had any good meat on their journey. The last stretch of rocky cliff sides had already frozen in time, any animals that hadn’t escaped had already been picked up by passing birds. Anything that had escaped was smart enough to hide. The group made so on wild berries and dried rations, but the strips of jerky weren’t enough.

He needed fresh meat.

He needed it, craved it, was tempted to shove the chef aside and burn themselves to get it that much faster, but there was no sense in hurting himself, so he waited.

Not a moment too soon, the chicken was served. There were vegetables and stuff on the sides, but those were just garnish so far as he was concerned, flavoring at most. It was put in front of him, a chicken leg quarter, bone-in dark meat, and any remaining decorum was used to keep inside your host’s skin, was used not to bring forth an inner pair of teeth to tear at it directly, was used to keep deluding yourself and everyone else into thinking you were human was forgotten.

Salted umami danced on his tongue, tender flesh giving away easily between teeth. Odile admonished him, but it fell on deaf ears. Isabeau apologized and a chef laughed it off as a compliment. Another chunk of flesh slid down his throat, barely chewed. It’d get dissolved, used, broken down, added to mass. Please, no more waiting, no more. It was enough to not crack your jaw open, to not shove it all in at once. Hungry teeth stripped the bulk of meat from bone in only a few minutes.

“Do you need more chicken, Siffrin?” Isabeau said.

“When I finish this one.” Grease dribbled down his chin only to be reclaimed by finger and tongue. Waste not, want not! And stars, he wanted so desperately.

“Are you not?” Odile said. “There’s basically only bone lef-“

CRUNCH

They spit out cartilage end of the drumstick, a small groan escaping as the soft bone beneath gave way. This was the best part of freshly cooked chicken, it made the bones tender, at least at the edges. Marrow filled his mouth, calcium crunching away better than why fried potato could dream. The inner bone was harder to bite through, but it could be splintered, bent, anything to get at the copper-sweet paste of fresh marrow. The drumstick lasted longer than easily cut flesh, but soon only the hardest potions remained. It was strangely tempting to try to swallow that whole, but it was commonly known chicken bone would scratch up your throat. Best to leave it.

There was still more.

Small bones, cartilage, and gristle all lined the inner thigh. Most was more trouble than it was worth, but there were places where blood had once pooled, dark pockets of rich iron. It was even more tender than flesh proper, only solidified by heat; a treat saved for last.

With only the barely-edible at best parts of chicken left on the plate and vegetables untouched, Siffrin looked up to find the rest of the group staring, their food barely touched. His innards squirmed uncomfortably. “Um… sorry. I, uh…” He squeaked, hiding under his hat. “I was hungry.”

“We can see that!” Isabeau said, trying to say it playfully, but clearly unsettled.

Mirabelle’s expression was hard to read. Nervous, certainly, but almost in the way one would be while watching a tense moment in a show. Enraptured, but horrified all the same.

Odile gave him a long stare and then sighed. “You are awfully pale, and you don’t take hits too well, and seeing you go after those bones… Gems, are you anemic? Here.” She handed her his plate, moving the chicken with a fork—a utensil he’d forgotten to use. “Too much fat is bad for someone my age anyways, and I’d rather you not end up fainting. But gems alive, use the cutlery.”

“Yes madame.”

He reeled it in better for the second course, sneaking his vegetables to everyone else’s plates. For however long it would last, he was not hungry.

This is AMAZING!!! Thank you so much for this, like, genuinely!! I haven't thought about pre-Dormont era at ALL and WOW!!! I'm defiantly tagging @traumaboyexo with this for Carrion stuff!!

[just-jordie-things]

something missing - okkotsu yuuta

word count: 2.4k warnings: swearing summary: just two lovers missing one another more info: aged up characters! established relationship!

Trips were fun, seeing new places, trying new foods, meeting new people, there was always fun to be had going somewhere new.

Yuuta learned quickly that field missions were nothing like a vacation.  Besides the fact that there was barely any extra time to explore new cities, with any downtime he had, he spent resting.

New York City was no different.  It had been a few weeks, almost a full month.  The sights from his hotel window were all the more exploring he got to enjoy.  Tonight was the same old thing.

His toothbrush hung lazily between Yuuta’s teeth as he stood before the window.  The whole city was lit up, and it was a beautiful sight, but tonight it just wasn’t doing it for him.

His phone beeped in his pocket, and it was in his hand in a second.

[(y/n)]: goodnight love. i’m off to training w Toge.

Not a second later a photo came through, a selfie of his two favorite people in the world, his girlfriend and his best friend, both with their tongues out and wide smiles.

Despite the overload of cuteness, he found himself frowning, his stomach tied up in knots.

He’d been gone for too long.  He missed everyone, he missed his routines.  He missed being in the same time zone.  

[yuuta]: have a great day :) can’t wait till i’m home with you

With that he tossed his phone onto the bed- which was still covered in the mess from his open suitcase- and sighed into the empty room.

Three weeks of being alone in these four walls and trying to track down a curse that he was convinced was just some crazed New Yorker was starting to drain him of all energy.  He hadn’t even felt bothered to organize his clothes.

If (y/n) were here, she would have established a whole system for unpacking and organizing everything in the hotel dresser.  She’d scold him had she known he was living out of his suitcase and couldn’t even kick it off the bed at night.

As he wandered back over to the bathroom sink, spitting out his toothpaste and turning on the faucet so it’d wash down the drain, his mind ran wild with thoughts of another life.  A normal life.  As important as his work was…

“You’re a hero Yuu,” (y/n’s) words rang in his ear as if she’d been standing right beside him.  “And people need you”

More than I need you? He’d never told her, but that thought had been on his mind ever since.

All he wanted was her.  She had his heart, body, mind, soul- he was completely hers and she knew it too.  She wasn’t the only one who knew it, anyone with eyes could see the pair’s infatuation with one another.  And if they had been born non-curse users, he thinks he would have put a ring on her finger by now.  

A smile graces his lips at the thought, his first smile all day.

The idea of settling down, moving their things into an apartment together, doing chores together, laughing over a juice stain on his shirt and not his own blood.  Images of spending every free moment together, whether it be eating meals, watching tv, reading together in silence… every sweet thought that passed his mind made him wonder if all of this trouble was worth it.

There wasn’t time tonight to measure the weight of his work, but he would make time to re-evaluate this mission in particular. ___

(y/n) tossed and turned in bed, and then tossed some more.

To say she wasn’t tired enough to go to sleep was an understatement.  She’d been awake for hours now, waiting for her phone to ring, or beep with a new text, but it remained blank.

She checked once more just to be sure, but just like the minute before, her lockscreen was clear.  Leaving only a photo of Yuuta with a wide grin on his face and a messy, small bun on the top of his head.  Usually this photo brought a smile to (y/n’s) face, hence why she chose it for her lockscreen wallpaper, but tonight she frowned as she turned the screen off and threw her phone into her pillow.

It was half past three in the morning, which was usually the perfect time to call Yuuta, since it would be five in the evening New York time.  He usually tried to call a little earlier, but it was never this late.

(y/n) understood he was busy, and with important work, but she couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed.  She had barely heard from him all day, and with him being gone weeks…

Was it so awful of her to miss her boyfriend?

She reached for her phone once more, seeing only a minute had passed, and she still hadn’t heard anything.

Reluctantly, she unlocked her screen and went into her chat with Yuta.  She’d already sent him a few messages, but she figured one more couldn’t hurt.

[(y/n)]: hey, we still talking tonight? [(y/n)]: it’s ok if it’s a little later, i’ll wait up for you :) [(y/n)]: i can hear panda’s snoring from down the hall, should i see if toge is up? maybe he’ll put me to sleep. [(y/n)]: hey.. it’s late but i’m wide awake if you still have time for a call. can’t sleep :/ i miss you.  

She left her phone on her chest as she stared up at the blank ceiling.  Panda’s snores from a few rooms down still faintly made it’s way to her ears, but as she zoned out it sounded more and more distant.

Sometimes, she curses Gojo for seeing the potential in Yuuta.  Sometimes, she wishes he were normal, they were both normal, and could do normal people things.

Sometimes she wonders if being a non-curse user is a better life, to be blinded by the evils in the world, to live freely day-to-day.  Sometimes she wonders if she had a chance at that life now, would she choose it?

She doesn’t necessarily like these thoughts, but every once in a while she’ll indulge in a little daydreaming.  Images of her and Yuuta spending each day without training or being scared for their lives flashing behind her eyes.  She has to admit, it would be nice if he didn’t have to go away for such long missions.

But as sweet as the idea, she knows their way of life is the right path for them.  She knows neither one of them would sleep at night knowing they could do something to help squash those evils.  Besides, most of the time, she enjoyed herself when she exorcized curses.

Squeezing her eyes shut tight to rid her gaze of the white ceiling for just a moment, she tried to manifest a message from Yuuta for the umpteenth time tonight.  But hell, at this point she’d try anything to hear from him.

Ding.

Holy shit, did that work?

With lightning speed she had her phone unlocked to read the text message she’d just received.

[yuuta] i’m sorry i haven’t been able to text you my love, been real busy.  Maybe a midnight snack would help you rest?

As happy as she was to hear from him, her heart sunk as he hadn’t mentioned anything about calling her tonight.

[(y/n)]: think you’ll have any time for a phone call tonight ?

Every second that passes with the three dots of his anticipated response made her heart pound a little harder.  Even if he could only talk for a minute, she’d be happy just to hear his voice, she’d take anything she could get, really.

Finally, his text was sent.

[yuuta]: i don’t think it’s going to happen tonight, my love, i’m so sorry.  but it’s late, you should really get some sleep.  perhaps tea?

(y/n) bites her lip, before sighing and admitting defeat.

[(y/n)] it’s okay, i know you’re overworked.  i’ll make some tea and try to sleep, but if you find any spare time, call me, ok? i don’t mind how late it is.  i miss you

When she turns her phone off and sits up in bed, she tries to ignore the familiar burn in her throat that means she’s going to cry soon.  They say distance means the heart grows fonder, but she never realized just how much heartache came along with it.

She rubs her eyes almost violently to make sure they don’t stay watery, and slides her feet into the slippers next to her bed.  Tea was probably the best idea at this point.  Hopefully it would help her sleep and bring some comfort to her lonely heart.

She dragged her feet every step to her door, wiping her eyes once more for good measure before swinging it open.

To her surprise, she wasn’t met with the dark empty hallway she was used to seeing at this time of night.

Instead, one Okkotsu Yuuta stood there, at her door, with his suitcase at his side and his katana slung over his back.

Her eyes blew wide and for a second no words even came out to voice her surprise, but he could see in her dropped jaw and frozen stature that he had shocked her to her core.

“Surprise,” He says softly, before grinning ear to ear.  “My trick to get you to the door worked, I see”

“You’re- you’re home?” She barely gets the words out before reality catches up with her and she’s throwing herself against him.

In one swift motion her arms around his neck and her lips are planted roughly against his, barely taking in a gasp of air before kissing him again.  For such a sudden kiss, Yuuta’s quick to embrace her and keep her body held against his as he returns her kiss with even more fervor.

When they finally break the kiss, he doesn’t let her take a single step away as he speaks, keeping her in place right against him, right where he liked her to be.

“I told Gojo that I was getting nowhere, and I’m pretty sure the killings weren’t curse related.  There weren’t any supernatural leads,”

His words were rushed, like he was dying to get through them so he could move on and spend every second focused on her and only her.  She let out a small, breathless laugh, before shaking her head.

“He said I could come back and the elders would send some more people out to recon just to be sure, but I’m here, and I’m staying,” Yuuta brings a hand to her cheek, his thumb brushing over her soft skin as he gets lost in her (y/e/c) eyes for a moment too long.  “And I’m staying for a while.  No overseas missions for a long time for me”

“Really?” She whispers, her heart filling with hope and joy and all things good at the idea of having him to herself for a while.

“Really,” He confirms, and seals it with a quick kiss.  “I just want to be here with you.  I missed you so much, my love”

“I missed you too,” (y/n) sighs, resting her forehead against his and letting her eyes fall shut as a comforting feeling washes over her.  The relief of having him home was just what she needed to feel whole again.  “I’m so happy you’re home, Yuuta”

He squeezes her shoulders playfully, and gives her a smile that she knows means he’s up to something mischievous.

And before she can question what he’s thinking, his arms are wound around her middle, and she’s being hoisted into the air.

“Yuu-!” She squeals before slapping her hand over her own mouth, forgetting the time of night.

He’s laughing as he folds her over his shoulder and lets himself and his luggage into her room.  He kicks the door shut behind him without a care for how loud it might be and who might be disturbed from their sleep.  He couldn’t possibly care about anything other than having (y/n) all to himself, even just for tonight.

(y/n’s) giggling too, despite her protests for him to put her down and what the hell are you thinking? She can’t keep herself from giggling uncontrollably at the whole thing.  Maybe his laughter was contagious, but maybe she was just in love with him and everything he does to make her feel loved too.

He finally lifts her off of him, and she has to set her palms on his shoulders to keep her steady in the air.  It feels silly, but still, Yuuta’s smiling and so is she.

The sweet moment is quickly followed by him throwing her down onto the bed, and she might have scolded him on another night, but not tonight.  Not the night she finally gets him back.

Besides, he quickly falls on top of her, barely catching himself before completely crashing into her.  Her stomach is starting to hurt from all the laughing.

“So beautiful,” Yuuta murmurs as he pushes her hair away from her face.  “So, so beautiful,” He repeats, before leaning down and leaving feathery kisses all over her face.  “My beautiful girl,” He murmurs as his kisses trail down the bridge of her nose.  “I love you, so much” He says, as his lips hover over hers.

She takes him by surprise as she leans up, taking his jaw in both her hands and pulls his lips against hers.  He smiles into her kiss.

“I love you too, Yuuta” She murmurs into his mouth, before stealing another kiss.

He could melt away and die right here, in her arms, knowing that she loves him.  He thinks he just might if she keeps kissing him this way.

They settle in for bed after a few minutes.  They don’t speak about the repercussions of Yuuta getting caught in her room after hours, and truth be told, the rules weren’t on either one of their minds.  They’d take the consequences later.

(y/n) snuggles into Yuuta’s chest with a bright smile, which he mirrors as he tucked the blanket around the both of them comfortably.  Even as sleep starts to invade her senses, (y/n’s) still smiling.

Finally, they’re able to get a good night’s rest, wrapped in each other’s arms. ___

xoxo - jordie

[wizardnaturalist]

I am not about to sit here and claim that any work is above reproach, but so many criticisms of RENT are either directly addressed within the show or are just. not true. and this perennial discourse about how Problematic it is annoys me, so here we go

Why don't they just pay the rent?

are you kidding me

did you watch the show??

they don't have any money

the situation established at the beginning is that Benny has allowed them to stay in their apartment rent free for the past year because Roger was unable to work and he and Mark wouldnt be able to afford living expenses as well as Roger's medication otherwise.

Benny then tells them that unless they break up Maureen's protest, they will not only have to immediately start paying rent, they will also have to pay back the entire previous year's rent or else be evicted

needless to say if you ware barely scraping by, you do not have a year's worth of rent and then some just sitting on hand

Mark was cosplaying poverty, he could've gone back to his parents' house at any time.

perhaps

all we know about Mark's parents from canon is that theyre pushy and he doesnt want to live with them. We don't know any details of their living situation or home life

but even if he would have been fine moving back home, it would have meant abandoning both the community he had grown into, and Roger.

Roger literally had not left the apartment since April died, and was not well enough to work to support himself at the time. Mark leaving would mean leaving Roger without support.

Mark's view of the homeless is often voyeuristic and expoitative.

yah

the conflict between Mark's comparatively privileged upbringing and the poverty amongst which he now lives is a major part of his character

remember when that homeless lady told him to fuck off

that didnt just slip in by accident

The whole show is about not being able to afford things, and then Mark quits his job for his Ideals.

Mark was not entirely jobless before being employed at the magazine. He wasn't going from having a job to unemployment. He always had money for food, clothes, medication, etc., even if it was tight

he just wasn't employed in his field. it wasnt a question of Having A Job or Not; it was about whether Mark was willing to accept the chance to get closer to making a living off of his art, even if it went against his morals, or whether he could be content carving out filmmaking for himself in a way that felt right

I thought Jonathan Larson was gay and died of AIDS.

not his fault??

neither Larson nor his estate ever claimed either of those things, you just jumped to a conclusion and made it everyone elses' problem

I can't believe this is a common "criticism"

A straight man has no right to write about the AIDS epidemic.

I dont know how to tell you this, but AIDS is not a gays-only disease. what are you, a politician from 1986?

RENT was not about being gay, it was about the disease. Roger, Mimi, Mark, and Benny- half the main cast- are all straight as far as the audience is aware. other than gay people, the most at-risk groups at the time were IV drug users, sex workers, people of colour, and impoverished people, all of whom are represented in the show

Larson may not have had AIDS, but many of his friends and loved ones did, and died of it. how incredibly callous to say that someone cannot write about the tragedy they personally lived through, just because they are not of the demographic you most associate with it

Larson plagiarized the whole cast and all the major story beats from Sarah Shulman's People in Trouble.

this is one that cropped up on tiktok a couple years ago

have you read the book?

I have

the only similarities are that they are both about poverty and AIDS in New York, and there are characters who cheat on their partners. that's it.

it's like saying Veep plagiarized The West Wing because theyre both about white house staffers. or like those guys who claim any fantasy story featuring swords and the hero's journey is a Star Wars ripoff. it' absurd.

RENT is directly and openly based off the opera La Bohème by Puccini, as well as incorporating autobiographical elements from Larson's life

stop just repeating things you hear

in conclusion: there are real criticisms and analyses to be had with RENT, but these are not them

[the-heaminator]

11 for england, and anyone you fancy alongside >:)

11- "You're going to regret that." :D I went less feral than last time and forgot this in my drafts for a few months enjoyyyyyyy

(please comment por favor.)

(TW gore, cannibalism, romes shitty parenting)

Why did he have to fight?

Rome had named him Antinous, no one called him the name his mama gave him. He had all but forgotten it too, trying to find it was like slogging through a deep mire and it was not worth the trouble.

He hated fighting on orders. He had no choice though, he would not be fed if he lost, and he couldn’t stand hunger as well as he should do. Rome said his mama had spoiled him rotten, that was what he was told, but now he was strong because of it. Yet he always felt bad attacking that scrawny little runt from Britannia.

He was so small, and because he could never win, he was never fed, grown smaller, madder. Less and less human by the day.

And thus it repeated, it was growing impossible to lose against him, small, blonde and feral, all sparrow bones and gnashing teeth with very little substance behind it, Rome had tried and to an extent succeeded in civilising him. He had failed with the runt.

The thing still bared its teeth when scared, or angry, they were sharp little things, he looked like he carried illness, it was not hard to fight him, he was small and weak, and utterly battered by hunger.

Yet a mad little thing, it was a head and a half shorter than Antinous, but older, allegedly at least, practically a mute because his Latin was not good and was beat if he spoke in much else, he tried not to look at its eyes for too long.

Mouse had a brother, taller, stronger and older, but only barely, the runt only spoke with him in hushed whispers. He could beat the bigger one with ease too, neither had been given names yet, they had only been here for a short time, but long enough to be named surely?

 Rome could not be that indifferent to their existence, that was not wise, to ignore his most recent charges would be foolish. But as of yet he called the smaller one runt, because he was more mouse than man, a creature, afraid and skittish, ready to bite and snarl at the slightest touch.

Rome was watching now, he took some type of joy in watching them fight, he already knew the winner of course, it really was impossible for Antinous to lose, the runt could barely hold his gladius correctly and looked ready to collapse out of fear and exhaustion, Antinous was good with a gladius, the sword came from his people and all, he knew how to wield it.

It was insulting how little the runt even tried against him honestly, bared his belly and let Antinous do his worst, no doubt he would escape and go off to lick his wounds in the dark later. Like a frightened little puppy.

He hated such cowardice, he was not going to have his half-bred bastards to be cowards and weaklings, rolled over and took the blow, if he thought it would get him any amount of pity he was wrong.

It wouldn't, not if he was here, he could not afford to raise cowardice or pity. Antinous hated it for something different, he couldn’t bring himself to hurt him if the runt couldn't bring himself to fight.

No no no, he would not have this.

He almost squeaked when he was lifted from his side like an unruly little creature, there was some improvement in him, Rome noted, very little, but there was some. When speaking to him, he no longer snarled and just stayed quiet. Good, he had to learn obedience or he would not survive in such a world.

“Boy, why do you not fight?” He did not expect much of an answer, he only spoke his barbarian language readily, but he got an answer in Latin. Slow and heavy like cold honey.

“H-Hungry, no food.”

“You will only be fed if you win.” Flat, be all and end all “Antinous can attest to that.” 

Rome  turned over to him, blank-eyed and covered in mousey blood, he still needed training, and yelled “Don’t you, boy .” There was menace beneath those words and he almost bolted, he did not want to be here to witness whatever Rome was about to do to the mouse. But didn’t. He was not a coward.

“He can fight and is fed. You need to stop being a coward and fight." Rome knew it understood very little of what he said, too scared and starved and ill to even try. Once more he set him down to fight. Barely sinking into the sand under his feet.

He went in for the blow, and paused halfway through, no, he couldn’t. The mouse was standing now, but barely, a head shorter and so much thinner, how could he fight someone so much weaker than him? He had a heart yet, and it screamed at him that this was not right.

 So much weaker, it wouldn't even be good training for him. He could spare him. He could, he should, it was not worth a death, dying hurt, regenerating hurt more. And you needed food to regenerate. He was always utterly starved after he had to regenerate, and the mouse had no food.

He would be more starved than before, and then he would lose more fights, and then he would be fed less, and over, and over, and over….

It was not right, no.

But orders had to be followed or he would end up on the wrong side of the sword, he was not noble enough for such a thing, to die for someone like that, some thing rather, orders would have to be followed, it was best to not think of him as a boy, and think of it as a creature. He had fought many animals, this would be no different.

Thrust the sword and tore a hole, slashed and cut at his skin, his gladius went through like a hot knife through butter, he knew it would be easy, it always was. Yet it was always a surprise how little substance the mouse seemed to have to him, paper-thin skin and sparrow bones, no fat and barely enough meat to feed a stray mutt. Blood spilling onto the sand, and both of them wrinkled their nose, even Rome had to admit blood should not smell like that, dipped his fingers in the hole, and tasted the blood, it tasted wrong too. Human blood should taste like iron. This tasted bitter. Already rotting and he had been dead barely a moment.

Rome knew the boy could have spared it he knew that, but his mutt would not be falling with such a pathetic creature, he was better than that

   Yes. The mouse was pathetic, Antinous would keep telling himself that, over and over in his head till he believed it.

But it didn’t feel good, bile in his throat and a shiver in his hand. He felt powerful, yes, but the feeling made him ill and light-headed. Was this what being drunk with power felt like? How did Rome like this? It frightened him.

It was an odd feeling, terrifying, intoxicating, a dizzying concoction. Rome looked at him like he was a dog, his dog.

To make up for it today he decided to share his hard-won food with the runt once he was revived, Rome would not be pleased, but he would not kill him for it, hopefully.

Rome knew the boy lived for praise, like a dog, he didn’t often have to punish Antinous, a pat on the head and some food tamed him, a simple creature. He wouldn’t rebel, standing off to the side, covered in blood with a haunted look in his eyes. No matter how strong he was you could only be as ruthless as your heart let you, and the boy was still soft inside.

Looking down at the dead little mouse, gored through the abdomen, called Antinous over, forced him to look down at what he had done, his power “You will do great things, boy.”

“As you say, Master.” He could hear him swallow thickly, he didn’t cry, he was not a child.

He continued, staring down at the runt’s body, decaying faster than it should "You should have no place in your heart for pity, especially not for the weak.” 

He could see the boy wrestling with his mind, mouth slightly open before snapping shut again and thinking longer, fingers entwined and wringing, it wouldn’t wring out the blood, it had started to crust, mouth open again, Rome wanted to see if the boy was stupid enough to try and speak.

And he was, it was not his brightest moment “Forgive me, Master, but why do you make me fight the mouse, he is not well and if he keeps dying he will only get smaller and weaker. Why do you not feed him.”

Still soft in the mind. He looked at the child coldly, and then to the bleeding corpse on the ground. 

Always such a sight to see the small one heal, he was so fast, decaying faster than most, skin rotted fast and fell off in thick black clumps, blood dried and flies swarmed almost at double speed. Brittle bones bared themselves before he started to stitch himself back together, faster than the others too.

Flesh over his bones wove like a loom, thinner and weaker. But alive.

Painfully alive

He didn’t have it in him to get up and curled up in a pained little ball instead, licking his wounds surely, if he was to act more beast than man then he would be treated as such.

It made Antinous feel a little sick, to see the little thing shiver and suffer solely because he was just following orders, because he was too scared to do otherwise.

Rome’s eyes were cold “He is weak, yes, and he is sick, but why be soft with such a thing.” He was looking directly into Antinous’ eyes, “Would you rather he suffer now or suffer forever, finish him off now and he will not have to live like an animal.”

Antinous could feel Rome’s hand on his shoulder, it was a gentle grip yet.

“Besides, he is more animal than human, he is not like us. You are not like him. Pity is for the weak. Are you weak?”

He could feel the grip on his shoulder tightening, he could taste blood and he didn’t know why, swallowed thickly, he should not be afraid of his Master, but he was.

Rome could see the thoughts whirring in his head like a storm, “Then why don’t you name him?”

“Do you think he warrants a name, do you think he is enough of a person to deserve one.”

He felt his cheeks flush red, he should have kept his mouth shut…but well…he had already started to talk, what harm would a bit more be?

“Yes. He does. Sir.”

Rome did not expect such disagreement, not out of Antinous of all people, tightened his grip on the boy's shoulder till he heard him hiss in pain, he could draw blood, but chose against it, spoke so close to his ear that Antinous could feel his breath on his neck.

“Then what would you like to call him?”

Antinous had not genuinely given this thought, he hadn’t expected Rome to humour him, and now he was at a loss for words. Rome dug his fingers deeper into his shoulder, Antinous could feel the skin puncturing, it would have healed rapidly too, had Rome not kept the wound open.

Between the pain, he managed to hiss out “Ask him about it, Master, ask him his name.”

“He does not speak to me, if he wants to play a mute then why should I coax him out of it.” He withdrew his hand, Rome could see the blood stain his shirt.  “He is mine as you are mine, and did I ask for your name?”

He did have a point there, a nasty little point it was, but a point nonetheless.

“You did not.”

Rome was looking through him, he didn’t know why.

"You will regret asking that. Boy." His eyes fixed somewhere behind Antinous.

"Regret what?"

He found out when a sword bit into his throat and the world faded to black, the last thing Antinous saw were eyes greener than they should be.

Greener than any gemstone, any leaf, and they were as mad as they were green. Hungry

Antinous knew he had let his guard down, but could you blame him, he had thought he had disposed of the mouse, it hadn’t even tried to fight, he was now. 

To Rome fighting wasn’t the right word, attacking, desperation perhaps, he had indulged in human flesh  plenty before, the feeling of warm flesh under your fingers, blood pooling and desperate writhing was a feeling you could not match. But this was different.

Simply put this was gluttony, animalistic gluttony, the mouse gutted Antinous barehanded, holding up his heart to the sun like a spoil of war to Mars.

                                    Before biting into it.

Oh, the sweet joy of satisfying hunger left to fester for too long. He made such a pretty noise with his sharp little elbows buried in Antinious' chest. Rome would like to remember that sound.