#and then mentally blacked out for a total of 9 hours over a couple days getting the piece drawn

[quirkycritters]

“Just like last time, and we all know how that ends.”

[pants-magic-pants]

heyy, hope you doing good! and sorry to keep bothering you lol

so you got me really curious

idk if this is something you would share, and it’s totally fine if not, but i was wondering how much went into the costume? both time and money -wise

Hello! I'm... surviving! I hope you are as well.

I am also curious about this question, as I certainly didn't keep track of it. Initially, I did save some receipts, but this project was so long-term that work on it became scattered. Scattered in terms of when I was able to find the right materials, when I was well enough (mentally, physically) to work on it, when progress was actually being made vs. me searching and bumbling around unsuccessfully...

When there was any sort of momentum, it was almost like a part time job, where substantial amounts of hours were put in on all or most of my days off (which I have three). I spent many days hyperfixating on it all day with just a few breaks, so maybe 12 hours in a day, for 2-3 days in a week, so 24-36hrs in a week. But not all my weeks were like that. I went a couple months not working on it at all because it was stealing my soul.

If we were to say that on average there was just one day a week from September 2022 when I began the project, until November 2023, that I worked on it all day, it'd be one day (12hrs) x 4 weeks in a month x 15 months... That means a minimum of 720hrs went into it.

As for the costs? I was very scared to tally this up, but it's not terrible?... If you consider what some cosplays cost? Some of it is ridiculous, like the fact that I probably spent $100 on beads.

I had to look up what some things cost roughly, and sort of guess, but here's my tally:

MATERIALS -- $143 $90 in various beads $10 sea glass $9 aquamarine crystals $9 blue/mirror crystals $10 hot glue sticks packs x 2 $3 black acrylic paint $6 button bases x 2 $6 blue cabochons for buttons

FABRIC -- $146 $65 velvet x 4yds (but mine was free) $13 cuff lace x 1yrd $13 upper coat lining x 1yrd $13 lower coat lining x 1yrd $5 interfacing x 1yrd $12 thread x 4 $20 swatches x 3 $5 felt for padding

TOOLS -- $80 $8 french curve and other curved rulers $15 rotary blades x 3 $30 rotary cutting board (not even a big one) $23 pattern paper $4 microtex needles (Not included $20 walking foot that was useless) (Not included I had to get a whole goddamn new sewing machine, $500)

A few notes about the spending and amounts:

As you can see! The materials COST AS MUCH AS the fabric. hahahahahahahaahahaa It adds up, it seriously adds up. You keep needing more and more, and honestly I bought it all at such spread out intervals that I wasn't aware it was adding up. It could have also been less because there were a few sales at the craft store. hahaha

I did not have to pay for the velvet because of the issues the company had in getting it to me. Overall, you may notice that regardless of that my yardage is pretty low. It won't be the same for everyone. This was what was needed to produce a garment that is roughly a children's size large, or a women's XXS. It's one way that being a miniscule, little pipsqueak is an advantage... for one's wallet. Not much else good to say about it.

Anyway, tools. Tools is an important category. The fabric needed for this project was finicky and troublesome, and it required not only study on how to handle it, but the right tools and a worthy machine to handle it. I literally could not finish the coat without getting a new machine which was actually gifted to me... as I could not afford it in a million years... There is also no way to cut velvet without a sharp rotary blade and board, and you'll go through several blades in very short time.

So I guess that comes to about $370...

Not terrible... right? And it was free velvet. And I was gifted a machine, and I also had a couple patrons who donated over a hundred dollars, bless them. On the other hand, this was only the cost of the coat, and NOT the cost including the dress shirt, cummerbund, wig, etc.

Needless to say, I am dirt poor this year. No sort of spending like this will be occurring any time soon for further work (to make the pants, to get new boots, to go to events, take pictures) unless I'm able to pick up freelance work or earn more patrons. Yeah.

[infinitewarden]

Osiris & OCD

I’ve had this post on my mind for a while but I never got around to sitting down and writing it. So here we are.

Osiris has OCD.

Yes, you read that right. Osiris has OCD and I’ll be going into depth here why he can be read that way.

To start off I would like to clarify what, exactly, OCD is since there are many misconceptions about it perpetuated by pop culture. OCD is different for everyone who has it, at least the way the symptoms present themselves. It’s not entirely about “ew yuck I hate germs.”

OCD is a long-lasting disorder in which a person has uncontrollable, reoccurring thoughts (obsessions) and/or behaviors (compulsions) that they feel the urge to repeat over and over.

Obsessions are repeated thoughts, urges, or mental images that cause anxiety. Compulsions are repetitive behaviors  that a person with OCD feels the urge to do in response to an obsessive thought.

Not all rituals or habits are compulsions. Everyone double checks things sometimes. But a person with OCD generally:        

Can't control their thoughts or behaviors, even when those thoughts or behaviors are recognized as excessive

Spends at least 1 hour a day on these thoughts or behaviors

Doesn’t get pleasure when performing the behaviors or rituals, but may feel brief relief from the anxiety the thoughts cause

Experiences significant problems in their daily life due to these thoughts or behaviors.

Source.

Now, with this clarified I can go into detail about how these symptoms present themselves with Osiris. Let’s start with bringing up a couple of instances that stood out to me (as local OCD haver.)

Bodies in the rubble.

Evacuees from the Eastern breach caught in the blast.

Their deaths filled his mind through twenty gilded eyes, capturing the scene in its totality.

Osiris would scour the Northern front in golden Light.

He looked to the shattered wall. Through the gap, mind inutile, overshadowed by the eternal precipice. Crowded with menace. Eyes peering down, seeping over, hungry, waiting to flood this last hope with plunging depth. Even now, as Fallen lines break against the Light, others stand watching from deep starless hollows. If not this, another. The dam will fail, as all do in time.

The Pigeon and the Phoenix. 9: Thin

Osiris is absent; preoccupied with insatiable predilections that drive him to worry. 

The Pigeon and the Phoenix. 11: Breathe

His mind is still taxed from his last visit. He remembers—camouflaged against the rushing atmospheric bands of Jupiter—how he drifted alongside its evergreen moon. He remembers the deep wedge that sunk between the two bodies, dividing them.

The Pyramid before him, lascivious tendrils of wildfire hue flowed from it like a grasping hand across the Cradle. The image as clear as relived trauma. Io had been dwarfed against the black angular pit seated in its atmosphere. His eyes could not leave it then; even now, he feels himself falling into its gravity as they approach again.

“Have you sent it  to Saint yet?” Sagira flitters into view. She brings him back to the present, soaring across space. 

Immolant Pt. 1

Osiris tenses his jaw in forced silence. He twiddles with code. “I’m worried about what Vance found.”

Saint places a heavy hand on Osiris’s chest. “Let go of your obsession. Do not leave chasing phantoms again.”

“Phantoms… You think the Darkness is satisfied? This is just the first move. I need to know the next before it’s made.”

“If there is something you fear, let me help you. We face this together.”

Osiris’s mind drifts to the Dark anomalies. Saint doesn’t need another burden.

“The safest place for you is the Tower, Saint. Time... tends to renege on its gifts.” 

Immolant Pt. 1

So.

Obsessions: Upsetting focus about the dark future he tries to avoid, of the Vex, of the Darkness, and of death.

There is another instance in the Tomb Rider lore where he starts down an “OCD Spiral” of obsessions, starting off with his worry over Mercury. In which Saint promptly shuts him down by grounding (lifting him by the shoulders), and diverting attention (feeding him candy.)

Let’s look at his compulsions.

“He’s dead because of me. I’ve made every precaution. I’ve had my Echoes check against trillions of disaster scenarios.” He turned to look at the fluctuating glow of the exposed chronometric core. “Mercury is the only planet that will be affected. Because that’s where he died.” 

The Sundial.

Without thinking, Osiris pulled off his gloves. Freed of the metal gauntlets, his hands looked old. He wrung them together, his fingers worrying at the edges of his ragged nails. "If the Darkness is able to claim Mars… if they take Mercury—"

"Quiet your mouth," commanded Saint-14, and Osiris did.

Saint-14 stood and then moved toward Osiris in two enormous strides. He grasped the Warlock by his shoulders and lifted him to his feet. He took Osiris's hand in his own and wordlessly filled it with triangular orange candies.

Osiris obediently placed a few in his mouth and chewed silently.

Tomb Rider.

I see infinity.

An infinity of possible worlds, so perfectly simulated as to be indistinguishable from the experiences I once called "reality." I can touch them, taste them, pass lifetimes in them! They grow within this machine like fruit upon a tree—no, a forest of trees, its fractal expansion nigh unmeasurable.

I said that to Sagira and she replied, "Sounds like a challenge."

This Ghost of mine knows me too well.

It strikes me now that I could find in this Infinite Forest a reality in which Ikora accompanied me into its endless mysteries.

What an awful, destructive machine this is.

I must know everything about it.

Kairos Function (Chest)

Osiris nods, realizing he had no right to demand action. “I apologize. Thank you.” He motions toward the windows’ reinforced glass. “The Traveler’s reforging was  a sight to behold.” His words have a faint reverence to them.

Zavala turns away from the Traveler’s pale light, his face dimmed. “Indeed. I wish it was more than just that.”

“These events were beyond us all, Zavala. I should have seen it… I just want to correct my error.”

“I’ll help you where I can, Osiris. Remain in contact, and if it is dire, I will point every gun at whatever fiend you uncover.”

Immolant Pt. 1

Compulsions: Checking and double checking again and again, picking at his nails (picking is another common OCD Thing), learning everything he can about an Upsetting Thing, chasing “loose ends�� to correct stuff he considers his fault.

Interestingly enough it seems that both Saint and Sagira are aware of his tendencies and respond to them by either physically grounding him or distracting him. ( “Saint places a heavy hand on Osiris’s chest.”  -  “Sagira flitters into view. She brings him back to the present, soaring across space.”  -   “He grasped the Warlock by his shoulders and lifted him to his feet. He took Osiris’s hand in his own and wordlessly filled it with triangular orange candies.” -  “Sagira darted down as if to dive bomb her chosen, but stopped just short and met him eye to eyes.” )

Let’s also not forget that Ikora, the Speaker, and Saint have described Osiris to be obsessive, and though Osiris denies this it’s hard not to see that he is. Thus… “Obsession” part of Obsessive Compulsive Disorder.

So there you have it. There’s quite a bit of lore that points towards or at least allows it to be read as him having OCD.

[honeyedhoseok]

8th MEMEBR OF BTS

• STAGE NAME: Kim Yvonne (김 이본)

• BIRTH NAME: Park Chanelle

• BIRTHDAY: December 31st, 1995

• HEIGHT: 5"9

• PROFESSION: K-pop Idol

• GROUP: BTS

• LABEL: Big Hit

• POSITION: Lead Vocalist, Visual,Sub-rapper, writer, producer.

• DEBUT DATE: June 13th, 2013

• FACE CLAIM: seunghwibaby on ig

• VOICE CLAIM: Madison Beer+Ariana Grande. Rap voice claim: Lisa (BP)

EXTRA INFO ABOUT KIM YVONNE

• NICKNAMES: vonnie, nellie, baby, Big Hit's princess

• TALENTS: can play drums, electric guitar and piano.

• HIDDEN TALENTS: can hold her breath for 4 minutes, is very felixible, excellent at volleyball and basketball.

• LOVE LIFE: is currently single, has 4 exes.

• SUBLINGS: 1 twin brother, Park Jongin.

• SEXUALITY: she's bisexual

• AESTHETIC: femme fatale

• HER PERSONALITY: she's the sweetest little thing ever. everyone's first impression of her was 'bubbly, adorable and sweet'. she's extremely selfless and is constantly putting others before herself in any situation even if she's at a disadvantage. very smart, a little introverted. can be really quite or really loud, no in-between. can seem cold on the outside but she's the warmest person on the inside. broken gen z humor. clingy baby, loves skinship.

• was diagnosed with ADHD Inattentive was she was 13, anxiety and depression when she was 19.

• is unsecure about her looks

• fake maknae

• has three awards on her solo project

• her voice is on the deep side but she can go really high

• MUSIC GENRE: loves pop, RnB and Trap.

• PETS: two chow chow dogs, Oliver and Sirius Black.

• TATTOOS: A sun and a Cresent on her hand, a cloud on her middle finger and ARMY'S shield on her ring finger, 'kookie'on her wrist, a heart in her palm, and a ⁷ behind her ear

• PIERCINGS: three on each ear, nose piercing.

• SOLO PROJECTS: 'Selenophilia' three singles and 10 songs in total.

'Venus Records' two singles and 9 songs in total

CELEBRITY CRUSHES:

• People Crushing On KYV:

• Jackson Wang (GOT7), Wooyoung and Seonghwa (ATEEZ), GRAY and Jay Park (AOMG), Jennie Kim (BLACKPINK), Chan and Han (STRAY KIDS), KAI (EXO).

• Crushes KYV has:

• Seonghwa (ATEEZ), Wonho, Jay Park, Hwasa (MAMAMOO), Jennie Kim (BLACKPINK), Madison Beer, Yeonjun (TXT).

A GUIDE TO THE SHIPS: withing BTS

VONJOON/RAPVON

• 45% family, 55% romance

• fourth biggest ship in K-pop.

• she's his baby, you can't convince me otherwise.

• she looks up to namjoon alot.

• king and queen of destruction

• writing duo

• calling eachother 'honey' platonically

• too many inside jokes

• can be annoying, because who ever is around them WILL third wheel.

• "BTS and the world third wheeling joon and vonnie for 25 minutes straight" videos

• back massages because carrying the music industry is painful

• they trust eachother so much

• will always spill to eachother about their worries.

• the respect is through the roof

• love for days

• vonjoon/ rapvon stans are either rock hard or soft af

• HUGS

• this man is a giant and the hight difference is just enough for him to scoop her up in his arms and squeeze the life out of her.

• they can carry smart conversations most of the time, but not all the time

• "joon, what's the difference between horses and donkeys?"

• "°_°"

• "deadass"

• wholesome relationship :)

SEOKVON/ VONJIN

• 70% family, 30% romance

• will babie her, he must babie her.

• he's so protective of his wittle vonnie

• is always checking up on her.

• he thinks she's the most precious angel in the world that need to be rocked to sleep and fed every couple of hours.

• gives everyone normal cups, but Yvonne get a sippy cup with sunflower prints on it.

• THEY LOUD AS HELL OH MY GOD

• one can spot their shenanigans from a mile away.

• a lot of "Jin and von being chaotic neutral" for an hour straight videos

• he taught her how to fish

• cooking buddies

• making cookies at 3 in the morning

• crackhead energy that fills up a tank

• will shamelessly stock up tampons and pads for her

• THE LOVE IS CONTAGIOUS

• INFECTIOUS LOVE

• sibling fights for no reason

• seokvon/vonjin stans are the softest ever

• wholesome babies

MINVON/ VONGI

• 65% family, 35% romance

• IS VERY VERY PROTECTIVE OF HER.

• has the biggest soft spot for her

• he's her little meow meow

• they go fishing together (w/ Jin)

• she has the passcode to his studio

• PRODUCER DUO

• the amount of unreleased tracks is insane.

• he pretends he doesn't like her hugs, but in reality he instantly melts in her arms.

• the only person he'll let cuddle him.

• deep convos

• stargazing

• sharing bandanas

• not a lot of skinship

• keeping eachother entertained during award shows

• WIGGLY YOONGI DANCE TOGETHER

• gummy smiles :')

• minvon/vongi stans are soft and well fed

• playing basketball together

• armys making "suga and yvonne being babies" compilation videos

• they're the type of duo who you be in a room doing literally whatever and someone you'd walk in, stare at them and slowing retreat thinking they just walked into some cult activities

• silently take care of eachother

• smallest acts of intimacy

• tiny babies

JUNGVONNIE/VONHOPE/HOVI

• 50% family, 50%romance

• team chaos

• THE ULTIMATE DANCE DUO OH MY GOD

• doing the weirdest things ever without questioning it

• compliments that turn into, "no u, no u, NO I SAID YOU"

• he's secretly her favourite

• yvonne and hobi are basically what its like to mix gummy bears, skittles, rainbow belts and honey. SWEETNESS AND HAPPINESS AND SUNSHINE ALL AROUND UWU

• THE VOLUME IS ASTRONOMICAL

• but like thank god one of them has an iq above 6

• the amount of "hobi and voni being rays of sunshine" for 30 minutes straight videos is insane

• Comfort Inn ™

• CUDDLES

• she will cling to him as if he's the last human alive.

• they're in their own universe almost all the time

• jungvonnie/vonhope/hovi stan are so soft if they see a video of hobi and voni laughing they will cry

• loveliest relationship

TAEVON/ 2V/ VONHYUNG

• 20% family, 80% romance

• third biggest ship in K-pop

• they get a little too hot on stage

• she's his favourite person

• she makes him feel so safe

• the walking memes

• GUCCI EVERYWHERE

• being weird together

• always teamed up in any situation

• DEEP VOICE DUO

• dog parents

• yeontan, Oliver and Sirius are literal siblings

• coffee 'dates'

• actual fashion icons

• king and queen of resting bitch faces

• skinship at its finest

• a new dating rumor every other day it's not even shocking at this point

• they are always taking naps somewhere, can be backstage, can during an award show, can be during practice, doesn't matter. naps.

• they're always there for eachother, mentally and physically.

• "tae and vonnie being adorable for 10 minutes straight" videos

• t r u s t

• are always playing with each others hair

• taevon/2V/vonhyung stans are either hardcore af or soft af

• sweetest relationship

( i can't add a jimin gif due to a limit in submitting)

JIVON/VONMIN/2PARK

• 2% family, 98% romance

• biggest ship in K-pop

• they're always together no matter what

• skinship to the literal max

• holding hands, cheek kisses, cuddling, hugs, sitting on each other's laps, all of it.

• matching hair colours.

• they're either being the tiniest babies together or everyone's OTP, no in between.

• 'power couple' at award shows, matching outfits, dance solos, harmonizing together, they got it.

• all over eachother on stage, as if no one is watching.

• Yvonne 'platonically' calls jimin baby, but he blushes everytime.

• him calling her noona

• they don't give the army the chance to breath, because they are never here to play

• they have the most iconic lines that genuinely sound like fake subs

• que the "jimin and yvonne being a married couple for 20 minutes straight" videos

• they are either really chill or hella energetic

• the jivon/vonmin/2park stans are probably the hardest stans in the fandom.

• sweethearts :')

( I can't add a jungkook gif)

VONKOOK/ JEONVONNIE

• 10% family, 90% romance.

• second biggest ship in K-pop

• golden maknaes

• vocal duo

• "_____ hyung won't scold us"

• they're banana milk addicts

• poutty bunnies

• she's literally kookie's role model

• he always has his head on her shoulder

• they have several matching tattoos (a heart on their palms, he has 'vonnie' on his wrist and she has 'kookie' her wrist, and a '⁷' behind their ears).

• they're always covering songs together

• crackhead energy is through the roof

• they are the chaotic good/evil

• hands all over eachother all the time

• on stage

• during practice

• on vlives

• awards shows, whatever

• fancams of their solo performances always tend to go viral

• whenever they're are in the same room, just know something is going to get spoiled. always.

• king and queen of highnotes

• "jungkook and yvonne being BTS' babies" videos

• they (+tae) are rapline's biggest fans

• the weird drunkies

• they are always eating something, can be ramen, can be an unpeeled banana, you never know.

the vonkook/jeonvonnie stans are the most confused turned on stans ever, but they are quite well fed.

( lmao I hope u liked this)

[lucyjay]

Silver (b.bh)

||You and Baekhyun have been friends for the past couple years. What happens when you both develop feelings for each other but no one has the courage to admit it?

Genre: smut (a bit of fluff)

Warnings: explicit language, alcohol consumption, teasing, unprotected sex ( balloon your baboons fellahs), dirty talk, oral sex, fingering, cum play, throat fucking, hair pulling, multiple orgasms

Words: 6.5k  

 You throw a final look at your reflection in the mirror and sigh. I look like shit, you think to yourself and make your way to the bathroom to finish straightening your hair. The last thing you are in the mood for is clubbing but guess who won’t take no for an answer?your friend Nat who borderline blackmailed you into either joining her and your friends tonight or finding all your embarrassing high school photos displayed on your insta tomorrow morning. 

 After managing to make your hair not look like you got out of a cat fight, you put on some make up which for you consists of 3 simple steps. Step 1, hiding the black shopping bags that jewel your under eyes, Step 2, some blush so that you don’t resemble a ghost and Step 3, mascara. The final result looks better than you anticipated when you started getting ready over an hour ago. 

A simple black baggie-t’shirt style dress, a pair of black boots, your straight hair naturally hugging your shoulders, falling all the way down to your waist and last your make up which thank god hides the fact that you’ve worked a total of 60 hours this week. It’s a nice, fresh spring night and you reckon you’d be okay without a jacket on. You throw your keys, phone and credit card in a small bag and make your way out of your apartment. Your find your uber already waiting for you outside the main entrance of the building, you jump in and decide to give your friend a call to check if they are already at the club. 

 “Hola”, her high pitched voice makes you chuckle, she still sounds like a 5 year old girl just like when you first met her. 

 “Hola. Sooo, I’m on my way, I should be there in like 20′ max. Who else is coming? Please tell me Sehun and Taeyong will be there? Taeyong promised he would make time if i joined you”, you protest already used to one of your best friends, Taeyong canceling on you lastminute.com because of work. 

 “They are already with me babe and we should reach the club in 10′ or so. Sara and Jaebum are coming as well, Bam is DJ’ing, oh and ahm”, she pauses and your heart starts racing subconsciously knowing what she is about to say. “..Baekhyun is coming”. You swear at her for not letting you know earlier and she mumbles apologies which leave you completely untouched. 

 “Nat, you did it on purpose”, you try to keep your tone calm only because your uber driver is already giving you some “lady keep your voice down” looks through the rear mirror. 

 “I didn’t but even if I did so what? We are all friends and it’s completely childish of both of you to put us in a position where we have to go out with each of you separately. Bam is worried and Sehun is having abandonment issues”, she whines dramatically and you hear Sehun in the background screaming, “I just want my friends back, oh god, please”, a fake cry following his oscar-worthy performance as you hear Taeyong burst into laughter a bit further in the background. 

 “Ok ok! I don’t care. I’m done playing his little games anyway. I wanna drink and have fun. See you in a bit”, you reply and hang up. The uber has reached the city centre and your gaze in boring outside the window looking at the people and the buildings but not really paying attention to anything. All you can think about is him. How things have completely gone to shit when they were so promising. You and Baekhyun met a a couple years ago when he started hanging out with Sehun who he met at work. The latest then brought him into your group and he clicked with all of you straight away. 

Fast forward to a a few months ago, you were at one of BamBam’s house parties chilling and chatting away when he confessed that he likes you and he has been into you since the day he met you catching you completely off guard. You, having been crushing on the boy since the moment you laid your eyes on him, did what no 26 year old, sane woman would do and just bailed. Literally left him there, drink in hand, mouth hanging open in shock and you just left the house, got inside a taxi and went home. You were so embarrassed over your reaction and disappointed in yourself for ruining the perfect chance to be with the biggest crush you’ve had since middle school, that you couldn’t even bring yourself to message an apology to him. A few days later you all met at a cafe and that’s when it started. He was so cold and sulky towards you and who could blame him? But he was overdoing it to the point that it started pissing you off. You couldn’t get him to talk to you alone and eventually managed to get you to not stand being with him in the same room. Every time you met since then, it was just a verbal war between the two of you, full of sneaky insults and hurtful jokes with a drizzle of swear words and some whipped sarcasm on top.

 “It’s just one night out. How bad can it get?”, you whisper only for your own ears to hear you. The uber slows down outside the club, you thank your driver and step out of the vehicle, gently closing the door behind you. The queue for the club isn’t too long and you can spot Nat,Tae and Sehun waiting on the left side where the VIP queue is forming. Sehun waves at you eagerly and you make your way to their direction. 

 “At least she is wearing a dress and not pyjamas”, Sehun teases and lifts you up in a hug that made you almost gasp for air. 

 “I am overworked, not lame. I now how to dress for a night out”, you spit back faking annoyance and the younger boy raises his hands in defence. 

 “Tough week at work?”, Taeyong asks as all four of you walk towards the entrance of the club. 

 “Everybody decided to get married at the end of summer apparently, so considering that I have to organise 9 weddings within the next 4 months, I would say tough year.”, you pause and your eyes follow the direction Taeyong is looking at and...there he is. Locking his car dressed like a bloody model straight out of a Vogue photoshoot. Black jeans, loose blue shirt, a silk navy blue scarf around his neck and a pair of black boots. “...and it’s not about to get better”, you finish your sentence. 

 Him being ridiculously attractive should have been something you were used to by now, but you haven’t seen him in almost a month and in all honesty you almost forgot how easily he makes your entire body go numb just by standing there not even looking at you. Too lost in your own thoughts you haven’t noticed him standing next to you greeting the others, ‘till he turns his attention to you. His hair is silver. Fuck him and his ability to look good in everything. Fuck him and his gorgeous face, you think to yourself. 

 “Your hair is longer”, he says in the most indifferent tone. Is this his idea of a greeting? Asshole, you think.

 “Your hair is bloody silver”, you reply, your eyes not leaving his. He serves you a slight side smile and you can feel the insides of your palms getting sweaty.

 “Looks good doesn’t it?”, he throws a rhetorical question not really waiting for an answer. You tsk and roll your eyes at him while quickly turning to get inside the club. BamBam was near the entrance to greet you and show you which table he reserved for you and your friends. You follow him and he leaves you shortly after to go and prepare his station for his set next to the man currently DJ’ing. 

 “I’m gonna go get drinks, what do you want?”, Baekhyun asks the rest of you.

 “Let’s just get a bottle”, Nat proposes and you nod. “tequila or Vodka?”, she asks. 

 “Tequila”, you and Baekhyun shout in unison and you turn to look at each other. Are the lights in here making him look even more attractive or is it just you being horny for him? You give yourself a mental slap. 

 “Tequila is good”, Sehun adds. Baekhyun makes his way to the bar and Nat moves to your side, leaning next to your ear so that she doesn’t need to scream on top of the music. 

 “Make a move”, she says and you almost choke on your own spit. 

 “Are you insane? Haven’t you been around lately? I guess not. Let me fill you in. In the last episode of Season 2, he hates me. End of story”, you reply and she chuckles. 

 “He doesn’t hate you. He is just still hurt by your reaction back then. And you are clearly into him. Like, it’s clear like the sun. Like, I can see you undressing him with your eyes. I could legit-...” 

 “That’s enough! I got your point”, you cut her off and really wish Baek could get his ass there already cause you swear you would love to down that entire bottle of tequila right now. 

 “Babe, talk to him. It’s a shame. You have had feelings for each other for so long. You can’t just..leave it.”, she says and her tone is soothing and understanding. You turn to look at her and nod causing her to smile widely and clap her hands like a little kid who just got her birthday gift. A minute later Baek shows up with two bottles of tequila inside a bucket and a waitress follows right behind him with a tray full of glasses and ice which she lays on your table. 

A few drinks down and you find yourself relaxed enough to be dancing with Taeyong like there’s no tomorrow, rocking some crazy moves  perfectly nsync with BamBam’s wild beats.  Taeyong’s hands are on your waist and you rest your head on his shoulder, your back against his chest as you sing every single lyric of the song currently blasting.

 “I need another drink”, he screams over the music. You nod and make your way to the table where you find Nat and Sehun talking to Jaebum and Sara, a couple Nat met whilst on holidays in Japan, who happened to be from the same city as the rest of you. You chat with them for a few minutes, sipping on your drink when you realise you haven’t seen Baekhyun since returning to the table. After scanning the area around you, your gaze falls on Nat’s who mouths a silent “outside” to you, as if she has read your thoughts. You excuse yourself and make your way through the intoxicated crowd, eventually reaching the exit of the club. You step on the pavement and look up and down both directions to see if you can spot Baek. On the left side of the doors, a few meters away you can distinguish a frame that looks like him. You slowly make your way towards the man and after a few steps you can see his face clearer under the dull lighting the lamppost covers the corner of the street with. He was staring at the ground, cigarette in between his index and middle finger. You clear your throat and he turns to look at you. 

 “Oh sorry, I didn’t see you”, he says calmly, taking a puff of his cigarette, quickly letting a line of smoke out of his nostrils.

“You smoke”, you say and it’s more like a realisation and less like a question. Your stare drifts off of his face and down to his feet as if his shoes are the most interesting thing to you. 

 “Yes, got a problem with that?’, he turns to look at you and you raise your head to meet his eyes. You can’t read him. You never could. He looks unbothered yet sounds annoyed. It’s so frustrating and you swear at yourself for even thinking of approaching him. You scoff and turn to leave, sure that you’re clearly not wanted there. 

 “That’s the second time”, he says and his voice is low but you can sense a weak scent of irony lingering at the end of his word. You stop in your trucks and turn to face him. 

 “What was that?”, you ask. 

 “It’s the second time you walk away from me. There won’t be a third”, his statement catches you off guard but you’re not planning on letting him see the affect his words have on you. 

 “I suppose you came out here to get some air, I wanted to check if you’re alright but you’re clearly not up for a chat. Am I wrong for thinking that the best thing to do was to excuse myself?”, you regret the slight sarcasm in your words which was completely unintended. His attention lands on your face. There’s at least 2 meters distance between yourself and him but for some reason you feel like you’re suffocating. His presence is so strong that you can’t even think straight. Without taking his eyes off of yours, he throws his cigarette somewhere to the side and with two steps he is standing right in front of you. You can smell the smoke on him but it doesn’t bother you; his cologne in combination with his addictive natural scent are enough to make your head hazy. He shouldn’t be able to affect you like this. 

 “Excuses”, his voice comes out like a loud whisper and you feel embarrassed at how it makes your entire lower body go numb and the sensitive area between your legs pulsate. His stare is so heavy that it almost makes you feel small. He moves a bit closer to you and you can almost feel his body touching yours.

 “Baekhyun, I’m...”, your voice fades out unable to complete the sentence. Your eyes still on his like magnets. You can’t see anything around you but him.

“Finish your sentence Y/N”, he says calmly. You gather all the courage you could before you allow the confessions that you have been battling all these months, come out. It’s so hard but you know you have to. You have to give it a shot.

 “I’m sorry. For that day.”, you say and his features rest in a slight shock which only encourages you to continue. 

“I’m sorry i left you like that and that I didn’t explain myself. I’m sorry that I never called you after what happened. But what I’m not sorry about is what happened afterwards. You were so mean to me and you refused to talk to me. Your behaviour was horrible and I don’t take back anything I’ve said to you every time we fought”. You swear your knees are about to give out and your breathing is so heavy that you can feel your chest rising and falling as if you were running. You heart beating in your head is making you dizzy and you pray that you won’t just faint right there and then. 

 “You don’t regret anything you’ve said to me all the times we fought?”, he asks and you feel a pinch of annoyance that this was the only part of your paragraph long monologue he chose to focus on. 

 “Nothing. You started every single fight”, your statement came out strong and your voice way too stable given your current state. You congratulate yourself in your head. As if that was even possible, Baekhyun steps even closer to you, now trapping you between his body and the wall. You can feel his torso pushing yours backwards only for the back of your waist to land on his right hand, his left one resting on the wall slightly brushing your cheek. 

 “I swear I would take you against this fucking wall just to shut this annoying mouth of yours”, his lips almost touching yours. You can feel his breath on your face and his words wake the butterflies in your stomach. You’re mad at yourself for feeling so weak under his stare. It takes you a few seconds to realise that you have been holding in a breath. You just stand there, frozen, eyes glued on his honey brown ones when the words roll out of your tongue without second thought. 

 “Why don’t you then?”, you speak in a low voice that even gives you goosebumps. Your boldness surprises him and he shakes his head.

 “I shouldn’t. I-..” 

 “Excuses”, you cut him off and you catch him so off guard that if it wasn’t for you being an absolute mess right now, his shocked stare would have had you chuckling. He raises his hand to caress your cheek and the way his knuckles softly touch your skin makes your entire body shiver. He doesn’t allow you to let the sudden skinship action sink in when he tilts his head only to rest his forehead against yours. 

 “I don’t know what to do with you anymore. Please tell me Y/N. Just tell me what you want”, he pleads and the entirety of your body heat is now resting on your face. You have never seen Baekhyun like this, basically asking you to take the upper hand. You rest your arms on his and connect your hands behind his neck. 

 “I want you Baekhyun. I don’t even remember how it was not to want you.”, you inhale and the air entering your nostrils feels too hot “...let’s go back to yours.Or mine, I don’t care”. The moment you finished your sentence Baekhyun’s hand was on yours, already guiding you towards the direction of his car. He open the door for you to get in and a second later he jumps in the driver’s seat. 

 Baekhyun’s eyes are glued on the road and his grip on the wheal is strong. You take a minute to examine his side profile and your eyes linger on each of his beautiful features. His beautiful honey-brown eyes, his straight nose and his soft, pink lips that are currently pressed into a thin line as if he is trying hold back a river of words threatening to fall out. Your hands are resting on your thighs which you’re pressing together in a desperate attempt to ease the buzzing in your lower area. You are already so embarrassingly wet, even though Baek hasn’t even touched you, which makes you realise how wrong all your past partners must have been treating you. Not able to stand the distance between the two of you, you place your hand on top of his right thigh, slowly dancing your fingers up and down the area. He shakes his head, momentarily closing his eyes only to open them a second later. His stare is intense but you can’t read it properly. 

 “Babe...”, he says and your hand movement stops at the sound of the nickname. Feeling more aroused by the second, you bend slightly over so that your lips are brushing against his ear. 

 “What...babe?”, you tease and he grips the wheel with such strength that it looks like he is trying to break it in half. 

“Finish your sentence Baek”, you continue and at this point you know you’re playing with fire. He turns to give you a look for a split second, his eyes filled with something unknown to you and a slight smirk is gracing his beautiful lips.

 “Sit back properly, take off your underwear and open your legs.”, you’re looking at him, eyes wide open in shock. His habit of bossing you around would normally have you ignoring his ass, maximum serving him an eyeroll as a response, but now it’s different. Your brain hasn’t even had the time to comprehend the possible consequences of his request, when you find your hands slowly sliding the sides of your underwear down your legs. Before you manage to even speak a word, his slender fingers are caressing the inside of your thighs and you throw your head back, eyes shut in an attempt to keep yourself under control. His middle finger and index travel all the way to your sensitive area and you let out a low gasp when you feel them on your heat. 

 “Holy fuck...”, he says and inserts one finger inside your throbbing pussy. You moan out his name as his digit is hitting you exactly on the right spot and you can’t see it but there’s a victory smile resting on his lips. 

 “Baek wait...”, you try to complain but it’s in vain. He adds a second finger and while keeping his eyes on the road, one hand on the wheel, driving almost at 150 km/h, he is steadily bringing you closer and closer to your orgasm. You turn your head to the side, your eyes linger on his frame when you start feeling a knot forming on the lower part of your abdomen. You gather all the strength left in your body to lift your arm and tangle your fingers with his silver locks, slightly pulling his head backwards. He hisses and fastens the tempo of his fingers, his palm now coming in contact with your clit. You know you aren’t going to last long. Your walls start pulsating around his skilful digits and the car stops at a red light which finally allows him to focus his attention on you for at least a few seconds. 

 “I can’t wait to feel you clenching around my dick baby”, he says and you can feel yourself getting closer to your orgasm. 

“Does my baby like dirty talk?”, he teases you and you pull his hair a tad stronger than before. 

“I want you to come before the light turns green, you have approximately..”, he pauses to calculate the other traffic lights at the crossing, “...10-15 seconds?”, he adds driving his fingers in and out your pussy at a frenzy rhythm. You can’t handle the tension anymore. 

 “Baek, I can’t-...”, you swear you could cry with all this tension gathered on your lower body. You’re so close you can sense your orgasm. 

 “9..”, he says, his eyes piercing yours. 

 “Fuck, no I can’t”,  you close your eyes, trying to control your body. It’ll be too much, you don’t want to come here in his car. 

 “Open your eyes and look at me. 6″, he counts and you do as you’re told. His palm hitting your sensitive clit is sending vibrations all the way to your head and you swear you wouldn’t be able to spell out your own name at this moment if you had to. 

 “I’m so close, I’m- Baek please...’, you whine and you can feel your walls clenching like crazy, swallowing his fingers. He places his other hand around your neck, squeezing gently and you’re a goner. Your orgasm crushes through you like fireworks and you can’t stop yourself from grinding down against his fingers, greedily trying to ride the explosive feeling out. 

 “That’s my girl”, he flashes you a satisfied smile and removes his fingers from your pussy at once. You grimace at the loss of contact but you’re too occupied trying to gather your thoughts and get yourself together, to pay further attention. The car is already on the move and before you can fathom what’s happening, he is parking in front of a building. Your eyes feel heavy but only at the thought of what’s coming, you feel the knot in your stomach tighten again. Baek steps out of the car and opens the door for you. You take a second to put your underwear back on, and you step outside the vehicle likewise. He locks it and starts walking towards the entrance of the block of flats before you, his hand in yours as your steps shadow his. You walk up the stairs and stop at the first floor. He stands outside a door and takes out his keys to unlock it when he turns to face you for the first time since he had you coming all over his fingers in his car. 

 “Before we get in I need to tell you something”, he warns and his eyes are examining your face. You step closer to him, your arm brushing against his. 

 “What is it Baek?”, your voice sounds so sweet and the way you say his name has him melting. 

 “If we do this, there’s no disappearing in the morning. There’s no going back to how things were. If you don’t want to stay and if you don’t want to be with me, leave now. This can’t be a one-time thing for me. That’s not what I want.”, he takes a deep breath as if he just gave the most important speech of his life. Your mouth hangs open at his sudden confession and you feel a stink of guilt that you’ve made him so uneasy; scared that you would run away from him and disappear. You grab his keys and unlock the door which opens wide in front of you. You step inside his flat and turn your head to face him. 

 “Do you prefer eggs or pancakes for breakfast?”, you ask him while taking off your shoes. He steps in and shuts the door behind him. Walking backwards you start unbuttoning your dress, “...I prefer something sweet in the morning to be honest”, you’re teasing and you reach the last button. You take another step backwards and you can feel his eyes burning on you. He is following each step you take, mirroring your movements now taking off his shirt. You let the dark fabric of your dress fall down your body and pool around your ankles. Baekhyun stops in his tracks, half naked and the lust in his eyes could make you come right there and then. You are about to take another step backwards when he nods you negatively. 

 “Don’t move”, the words come out as a soft command and you listen, standing there only in your lace black underwear, looking at him basically begging him to do something. He hasn’t even kissed you. He is the only man that has given you an orgasm without touching you anywhere else, not even a peck on the lips. He takes his time roaming his gaze along your body, his eyes resting on your breasts a second longer. 

 “I want you to kiss me”, you let out before you realise the words leaving your mouth. He focuses his attention back on your face and your body is about to burst from the need to feel him closer in any way. He is slowly walking towards you while taking off his trousers, leaving his body now covered only by his black boxers. 

 “Your entire face is blushing, you’ve been squeezing your thighs together, your breathing is unsteady and you’re giving me blowjob eyes”, hie finishes his sentence when standing a breath away from you. “...you want me to do more than just kiss you baby”, you release a breath you didn’t know you were holding in  and he smiles. He is so infuriating standing there, laughing at the misery he has put you in. You can’t let him play you like this. 

 “If you think you can..-” 

 “Shut up”, he says and you can’t tell who initiated it  but his lips are on yours, kissing and biting as if your mouth is the last source of air and he needs it to survive. His right hand finds purchase on your ass, squeezing tightly pushing you closer to his body and his other hand grabs the back of your head, deepening the kiss. You can feel your underwear sticking on your dump heat and you squeeze your legs together trying to give yourself some comfort. Baekhyun breaks the kiss, bringing his lips next to your ear. 

“Is my baby wet?Again?”, he cooes and you wanna smack him across the face because he fucking knows you are. 

 “Yes I am, and if you don’t do something about it soon I’m gonna have to get myself off”, you lilt and turn to enter his room. It’s way cosier than you would have imagined, with a queen size bed in the middle. You seat at the edge of it and you open your legs as seductively as you can, covering the fact that they’re shivering in anticipation. He enters the room and his eyes are darker than before, his erection clearly visible through his boxers making your mouth water. You cock an eyebrow at him but he doesn’t move. That’s it, you can’t waste anymore time waiting for him to do something. You get up and get on your knees in front of him, removing his underwear with a single movement before you place your palm around his shaft. 

 “What the fuck Y/N”, he breathes out and his knees turn weak under your touch. 

 “I’m done waiting for you Byun. Took you 2 years to kiss me. I can’t imagine how long it’ll take you to fuck me”, he is about to protest when you lean forward, putting his dick in your mouth, your nose against his lower belly. His complain turns into a moan when he throws his head back, hands now landing in your hair, pulling slightly. Your lips move around his member, followed by your tongue, hand resting on his balls slightly massaging them. You lick a long stripe from the base of his dick, all the way to the end while pressing your lips around it and then release it with a slight ‘pop’.  A string of saliva connecting your mouth with his tip. You open your eyes only to find his intense stare already on your frame, cheeks on fire and mouth agape in an attempt to inhale as much air as he can. 

 “Do you have any idea how fucking sexy you look right now? I swear I would do anything, anything you want If I could only see you like this everyday”, his voice cracks at the last words and he is slightly releasing his grip on your hair. Your hand still working its way up and down his dick, you tilt your head onwards to give small kitty licks on his tip. You take his hand and while serving him a cheeky smile you place it so that his fingers are cupping the upper part of your neck, right under your jaw. It takes him a moment to understand what you’re thinking and when it hits him, he lets out a desperate breath. You move your chin in front of his dick, lips almost touching his slit currently dripping with pre-cum. 

 “Apologise for being an asshole these last few months”, you spit. 

 “Fuck you”. The moment the words slip his lips you open your mouth, taking him so deep that you can feel his tip touching the back of your throat. He moans out your name and you feel your pussy pulsating in the sound. It takes all the self control you can manifest in order to not sneak your fingers inside your knickers and relieve some of the tension. 

 “I can feel my dick down your throat baby, agh fuck”, he hisses and pulls your hair as you take him as deep as you can once again only that this time you keep him there, swallowing again and again with his dick buried as deep as your throat can take it. A tear rolls down your face and your gag reflex is threatening to kick in, but you refuse to let go before he begs. 

 “Fuck Y/N, please. please stop, I don’t wanna cum. Fuck please, don’t-”, you release him and you snap him your best victory smile. after whipping your mouth with the back of your palm. You get up and move towards the bed, this time laying on top of it. 

“I think I prefer you begging than apologising”, you tease and an unintentional giggle follows. 

 “You fucking bitch”, he spits jokingly and you burst into laughter but it doesn’t last long. The next moment he is hovering on top of you, lips on yours, hands cupping every curve of your body unable to hold back anymore. He is devouring your neck, jaw and moves lower to leave dark marks on your breasts. In a swing movement he unclips your bra, throwing it behind him next to his long forgotten underwear. Your underwear is next and before you know it, his face is resting between your legs, blowing tiny waves of air on your heat, driving you crazier if that was even possible at this point. He plants small kisses around the area, next to your folds while his hands are massaging the inside of your thighs. Your head falls back to meet his soft pillow and you moan out his name,  incapable of hiding the mess he has made of you. Without any warning his soft tongue crushes on your burning area, devouring you as if you were his last meal. Your head is now a foggy mess, hands tangled between his silver locks unconsciously pushing him against your pussy, desperate for more friction. He rests his tongue on your sensitive bud of nerves, dancing in slow circles when he enters two digits in you causing you to let out the most animalistic moan you’ve ever heard yourself producing. Your reaction was the confirmation he was seeking, as his tongue picks up its pace and so do his fingers, his name rolls off your tongue like a cursed poem, again and again until you can feel yourself falling off the edge. He lands a last kiss on your pubic bone as he slowly climbs up your body, now hovering above you. You open your eyes, realising you had them wide shut all this time, only to find his beautiful brown ones staring at you in the most loving way you’ve ever had anyone looking at you.

“So pretty”, he whispers and his fingers linger on your lips and make their way to your cheek where he leaves a shy kiss. You can feel his dick between your legs, yours thrown around his waist and you just stay there, in silence looking in each others eyes. You bring your hand to the side of his jaw only to pull him closer, planting a kiss on his lips. It’s not deep; it’s soft, and sweet, almost romantic. You break it after a few seconds and you rest your forehead on his. A word is about to escape your lips when he frantically drives his length inside you, hitting your g spot so hard that you almost choke at your own gasp.

“Baek, fuck”, you whine. He doesn’t say anything, he only pulls out a little bit and then thrusts back in, hitting that sweet spot that has you seeing stars. He does it again and again and again and you are a moaning mess, head thrown back, his diving in the crook of your neck, sucking, bitting, leaving purple spots in every area he can get his lips on.

“You want me to stop?”, he says out of breath without slowing down at the slightest. You attack his lips and the kiss is nothing like the one you just shared a few moments ago. It’s hungry and desperate and your tongues are fighting for dominance, both your mouths swallowing each others moans. You can feel your pussy throbbing around his dick and you know you wont last long. Baekhyun breaks the kiss but stays close so that his lips can still touch yours.

“Are you close baby? You want to cum? Want to come all over my dick?”, he breathes out and you moan out his name, paralysed under his touch.

“Baek I’m close-I’m gonna..”, a circular move of his hips almost brings you to the brink and you moan out cusses with no meaning. You clench around him once more and he lets out a loud groan.

“Y/N If you do that one more time I won’t be able to hold back. Please”, he pleads and you can see that he is trying to hold back so that you can finish first. His dick fucking into you at a relentless pace has your arms pulling his body closer to yours, nails digging in his back and you know these scratches will be visible for next few days.

“Baek I can’t hold it, please”, you moan out.

“Let go baby, let go. Cum for me”, he whispers next to your ear and there’s nothing in the world you want more than to feel him painting your insides with his orgasm.

“Cum inside Baek, Please, cum with me, ah-”, your orgasm hits you mid-sentence and you clench again and again as it keeps attacking your body in waves. After a couple thrusts you can feel him releasing into you as he lets his body collapse on top of yours, both of you battling to calm your breathing.

“I blame you for missing on the best sex I’ve ever had for the past two years”, you tease him softly and he chuckles. You raise your hand to place a stray hair behind his ear and you can’t help but notice the slight rosiness on his cheeks. ‘what?’, you ask flushing him your warmest smile.

“Be mine?”, his lets out as he rubs his nose against the tip of yours. Your heart skips a bit and a wave of warmth crushes through you, for you haven’t felt so happy in a long, long time.

“Hm, nope, thanks”, you giggle and you kiss him. He is taken aback by your reply, staring at you with eyes wide open like a frightened deer caught in the headlights.

“I’m joking baby”, you spit and burst into laughter.

“You bitch”, he laughs.

[buzzkillzine]

Here is a picture.

These are nearly all the handwritten journals I've kept since 2008.

They're all full. Some times I wrote every day, others I'd go a bit between writing sessions. Sometimes it's only few sentences, other times it's pages and pages and pages.

I started writing journals in 2008 on the train to and from Uni in Melbourne. It was a two hour train trip in the morning and two hours home. At the time, my small country town had 3 train services a day: the early one, which left town at 6.45am, a lunchtime one which left at 1.01pm and a night time one which I only ever caught from the Melbourne end at 6.38pm. So yeah. 4 hours of train travel for a sometimes 2 hour class. God forbid a class got cancelled cos I was already on the train by the time the group email got sent out. This happened a few times but that's not what this is about.

In my bag I always had my trusty walk man and CD wallet which held my 30 favourite CDs at any given time. There was a shit load of waiting around and this was pre-smart phone (for my broke arse at least (quick side note here: I originally wrote 'pov c*nt' in here because it was a very highschool thing to call someone but it only dawned on me in later years that it was meant as a general insult most of the time or if you asked for a chip or piece of gum from someone and they'd snap back with that, and not in the intend 'poverty c*nt' which it was short for. Australian high schools were pretty crook. Anyways.)) and a lot if waiting around meant I had heaps of spare time. Between reading Metal Hammer, Kerrang and Total Guitar I got pretty bored. I would also frequent the library and one day stumbled across a book written called Get In The Van by a dude called Henry Rollins. I knew a couple of songs from Rollins Band and had heard of Black Flag but that's about it. I squizzed at the blurb which mentioned something about the book being a collection of Mr Rollins' journal entries from just before he joined Black Flag until he quit and that sounded interesting. So I borrowed it out and then read it the next day on the train. But I didn't just read it... I devoured it. Over the next two weeks of the official library borrowing period, and no doubt a couple of days of it being overdue, I read it cover to cover and then went back and re-read big chunks of it. I loved the idea that it was these little snapshots of what happened that day to one person and how they experienced it. This inspired me to do the same.

So the next day I found an old A5 art diary that was barely used from year 9 art and I started writing in it. Just wrote what was happening around me. Wrote about my train trip that day and what I did in class. It was fun, so much so that I remember writing 'I think I found my new hobby' then got self concious of how cringey that sounded and scribbled over the top of it.

But it was true. I had found my new hobby and for the next two years I used my train trips to journal but it was a tricky process. I had to pick a train seat where there wasn't too many people around becauseI didn't want them to think I was writing about them, even though sometimes I was. When the train carriage got too full I'd have to put my journal back in my bag because I'd get self concious and weird. Most of the time my journal entries were very uneventful because my days were eneventful but even so, it felt good to share it with someone even if that someone was me.

After Uni finished I only wrote occasionally for a while, mainly due to not having time to sit and write but then I was volunteering with the local theatre company and was stuck in a lighting booth by myself for 4 hours a night for a two week period, and the profits of boredom were a journal that went from empty to half full in that time.

While I used it mainly just for writing and documenting my days, I realised I was also documenting my thoughts, feelings and basically tracking my mental health. I realised that the more time I spent writing, the less time I spent spiralling in my own head. Writing stuff down with a pen on paper slowed my brain down enough to write and to form cohesive thoughts, to join ideas together, to properly think through events and problems that were happening, to make me realise that I was trivialising some things while overthinking and blowing other things way out of proportion. I realised that journalling regularly, keeps me grounded and Zen.

Ok, so I want to scribble that line out due to the aforementioned cringe and self consciousness but hopefully you know what I mean.

Anyways, I have a bunch if these journals and I haven't really read back through any of them. I also haven't shown them to anyone else to read. I'm not sure if there's anything in them that I wouldn't want anyone seeing but it still feels weird to have over a decade of my entire mind, written in ink on paper. I don't know if I ever will actually show them to anyone. Would anyone even be interested in what happened on the 14th of April 2015? Is anyone interested in what I'm writing now for that matter?

Who knows. Maybe, maybe not. But I'll keep writing in them regardless. Maybe one day I'll share bits of them on here.

Anyways, whatever.

[arctic-comet]

Osblaine week 2021, Day 2: Lyrics

Over the last several weeks, I have carefully curated a playlist for Osblaine. The final total length of the playlist is 2 hours and 53 minutes.

The playlist can be found HERE

Click "Keep Reading" if you're interested in the introduction, commentary, more graphics and the full tracklist.

For full disclosure, I have to give some of the credit to my amazing fellow Osblaine fangirls @dystopiandramaqueen, @splitscreen and everyone who participated in a certain conversation for the original inspiration and even bringing up some of the songs.

You should look at the playlist in five parts: one section for each season that's aired and one section for the future (because I like to end things on a hopeful note).

The playlist contains a lot of the following:

Music from movie and TV soundtracks

Instrumental music

Remixes

Classics and covers of classics

Country music. I blame Florida. My sincerest apologies.

Some of the songs were chosen because they reminded me of a certain Osblaine scene, and some of them aren't specific to particular scenes but chosen for the general Osblaine vibe. And most of the movie/TV music I chose have been used for couples that remind me of Nick and June.

Part I- Season 1, first 12 songs of the playlist:

Forbidden Love- Abel Korzeniowski, Jasper Randall, The Hollywood Studio Symphony (Romeo & Juliet)

Fireflies- Owl City

Echoes in Rain- Enya

My Ghost- Glass Pear (Bones)

Daring to Hope- Anne Dudley (Poldark)

Everytime We Touch- Cascada

1000 Times- Sara Bareilles

Too Good At Goodbyes- Sam Smith

In Case You Don't Live Forever- Ben Platt

To Find You- Cast of Sing Street, Brenock O’Connor

She- Elvis Costello (Notting Hill)

Miracle- Instrumental- Cö Shu Nie

Hanging By A Moment- Lifehouse

Commentary:

The first instrumental song IMO works as an intro for their entire love story.

The next two songs are more about having the right vibe. It's a little ambiguous and dark because that's how their life is in Gilead.

Leave my door open just a crack

Please take me away from here

'Cause I feel like such an insomniac

Please take me away from here

Why do I tire of counting sheep?

Please take me away from here

When I'm far too tired to fall asleep

***

Wait for the sun

Watching the sky

Black as a crow

Night passes by

Taking the stars

So far away

Everything flows

Here comes another new day

Ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah

***

"My Ghost" is June's POV before they sleep together, wondering if she can trust Nick:

Who can you trust, in this place?

And whom can I put my faith?

If you're real, then show me now,

Who you are

The last two songs are for episode 1x10, for both Nick’s reaction to June’s pregnancy and the beginning of her first escape attempt (arranged by Nick).

She may be the face I can't forget The trace of pleasure or regret May be my treasure or the price I have to pay She may be the song that summer sings Maybe the chill that autumn brings Maybe a hundred different things Within the measure of a day

Part II- Season 2, next 10 songs:

Love Will Keep Us Alive- Eagles

So Easy- Phillip Phillips

Incomplete- James Bay

Rewrite the Stars- The Piano Guys (The Greatest Showman)

I’ll Be Your Shelter- Taylor Dayne

Love Never Fails- Brandon Heath

P.S. I Love You- 05:11- John Powell (P.S. I Love You)

It's A Girl- Mychel Danna (The Time Traveler's Wife)

I'll Stand By You- Josh Groban, Helene Fischer

The Miracle of Love- Eurythmics

Commentary:

The first four songs cover June’s escape attempt and the time they share at the Boston Globe.

"Incomplete" is Nick's POV from when she's on the run and he knows she'll be gone from his life soon. He lives in the moment.

I don't wanna look down

I don't want us to break up in the clouds

All I want is to stay us, to stay with you now

"I'll Be Your Shelter" is for when June's mental health is at its lowest point and he goes to Serena to beg for her to get June help.

What you need is a friend to count on

What you got baby you got someone

Who will stay when the rain is fallin'

And won't let it fall on you

P.S. I Love You takes me back to episode 2.09, Nick’s selflessness in the episode and of course the scene where after telling June that Luke loves her, he tells her that he loves her too, despite believing she probably doesn’t feel the same way.

It's A Girl makes me think of the beautiful moment they share during June's false labor when he helps her out of the van and they climb the steps together.

I’ll Stand By You is for 2.10, Nick holding June after she was heartbroken over Hannah and over what the Waterfords did to her and clinging onto him.

Part III- Season 3, next 6 songs:

Extremely Loud And Incredibly Close- Alexandre Desplat (Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close)

All I Ask- Adele

Never Enough- Loren Allred (The Greatest Showman)

I Don’t Wanna Live Forever- Taylor Swift, ZAYN (Fifty Shades Darker)

Love is Gone- SLANDER, Dylan Matthew

Constellations- The Oh Hellos

Commentary:

For obvious reasons, it was extremely difficult to pick songs for this season.

The first (instrumental) song is for the beginning of the season with June coming back to the Waterford house and them then saying goodbye to each other on the street.

All I Ask, Never Enough, I Don't Wanna Live Forever and Love Is Gone are for their night together in June’s room at Lawrence’s (the one we didn’t get to see sigh). They know it's possible it's all they'll ever have, and they'll take it, but it'll never be enough.

I will leave my heart at the door I won't say a word They've all been said before, you know So why don't we just play pretend? Like we're not scared of what's coming next Or scared of having nothing left

Look, don't get me wrong I know there is no tomorrow All I ask is

If this is my last night with you Hold me like I'm more than just a friend Give me a memory I can use Take me by the hand while we do what lovers do It matters how this ends 'Cause what if I never love again?

***

All the shine of a thousand spotlights

All the stars we steal from the night sky

Will never be enough

Never be enough

Towers of gold are still too little

These hands could hold the world but it'll

Never be enough

Never be enough

***

I'm sorry, don't leave me, I want you here with me

I know that your love is gone

I can't breathe, I'm so weak, I know this isn't easy

Don't tell me that your love is gone

That your love is gone

"Constellations" is for their long separation and the doubts that I'm sure plagued them both during it. Would they ever see each other again?

Part IV- S4, next 12 songs:

All of Me- John Legend

(Everything I do) I Do It For You- Bryan Adams

Iris- Natalie Taylor (City of Angels)

She Was Like A Bright Light- Hans Zimmer, Rupert Greyson-Williams (Winter’s Tale)

Noah's Last Letter- Aaron Zigman (The Notebook)

What’s In The Middle- the bird and the bee (Bones)

ivy- Taylor Swift

Footprints in the Sand- Leona Lewis

Remember Me (Lullaby)- Gael Garcia Bernal, Gabriella Flores (Coco)

On The Nature Of Daylight- Max Richter

My Heart Will Go On- Basil Jose (Titanic)

The Story- Sara Ramirez (Grey's Anatomy)

Commentary:

There were sooo many songs I wanted to include in part IV, but I controlled myself and ended up with this particular dozen.

"She Was Like A Bright Light" and "Noah’s Last Letter" are an instrumental double punch to the gut for Nick’s time in Gilead during episodes 4.07-4.09. The first one is meant for when he finds out June made it to Canada, and the 2nd for is for when he starts to gather info on Hannah to give to June.

"What’s in the Middle" and "ivy" are June’s POV of episodes 4.07-4.09.

"What's In The Middle" has more of an angry and confused vibe, and June was definitely both in episodes 7 and 8.

Losing your head is such a common theme

All your brains are falling out, falling out the open seams

Where is the heart, is the heart of the matter

I will empty out my skull of all this useless chatter

On the other hand, "ivy" has this haunted vibe, but there's also reverence and acceptance, which she begins to achieve in episode 9.

Oh, goddamn

My pain fits in the palm of your freezing hand

Taking mine, but it's been promised to another

Oh, I can't

Stop you putting roots in my dreamland

My house of stone, your ivy grows

And now I'm covered in you

The next three songs are of course all for their reunion in 4.09, and I couldn’t resist including the song that was actually played in the scene.

"The Story" draws the season to a close nicely, with June understanding that her current needs are different from what they used to be and that there’s someone who understands her completely (and it’s not Luke).

You see the smile that's on my mouth

It's hiding the words that don't come out

And all of my friends who think that I'm blessed

They don't know my head is a mess

No, they don't know who I really am

And they don't know what I've been through like you do

And I was made for you

Part V- Season 5 and Beyond, the last 6 songs

Secret Love Song- Little Mix, Jason Derulo

Burn With You- Lea Michele

The Bones- Maren Morris

Feels Like Home- Auli'i Carvalho, Keegan DeWitt

Love Will Find A Way- Piano Covers (Lion King II)

Like I'll Never Love You Again- Carrie Underwood

“Secret Love Song” is a more angsty tune about a love that’s still kept a secret like June and Nick’s love (as far as most people are concerned). Now that they’ve already made out in front of the man who raped and abused June and made Nick watch him do that, I want to believe they can let go of the secrecy in S5, at least when it comes to a few people.

I'm living for that day Someday Can I hold you in the street? Why can't I kiss you on the dancefloor? I wish that we could be like that Why can't we it be like that? Cause I'm yours, I'm yours Why can't you hold me in the street? Why can't I kiss you on the dancefloor? I wish that it could be like that Why can't it be like that? Cause I'm yours Why can't I say that I'm in love? I wanna shout it from the rooftops I wish that it could be like that Why can't we be like that? Cause I'm yours Why can't we be like that? Wish we could be like that

***

“Bones” is about a relationship with a strong foundation, which IMO they do have. It will carry them in the future, too. They’re more into each other now than ever before and especially June is coming to terms with how strong that love is. They’ll weather any storm.

When the bones are good, the rest don't matter

Yeah, the paint could peel, the glass could shatter

Let it break 'cause you and I remain the same

When there ain't a crack in the foundation

Baby, I know any storm we're facing

Will blow right over while we stay put

The house don't fall when the bones are good

***

“Feels Like Home” is more hopeful. Their home is with each other and I hope that’s something that will be explored more in the future.

Take me, I'm ready

Go slow but go steady

To a place that we can call our own

I wanna know what feels like home

***

“Like I’ll Never Love You Again” is a good conclusion for the playlist. It’s hopeful and a testament to an epic love.

I wanna love you like the rain on a roof

Stronger than a bottle of a hundred ten proof

I wanna take love to places that love has never been

Yeah, I wanna love you like I'll never love you again

And I'll love you again

Oh, and again

[gotmymindsetonyou]

Reviews for Every Movie I Watched in March+April

Kinda fell off on watching movies after January due to some mental health shtuff, but I’ve slowly been getting back on that horse and I wanted to talk about the movies I’ve seen, so here we are. Take my number ratings with a grain of salt, they’re mostly off the cuff and giving a movie a numbered grade is pretty arbitrary anyway. 

March 1: The Wizard of Oz (1939)  dir. Victor Fleming - 9/10

It is STUPID how good this movie is for 1939. I really do like almost everything about this movie, from the fun characters to the bright and colorful set design to the iconic music. In fact, the only parts of the movie I don’t like are that ugly ass Cowardly Lion and those godforsaken Munchkins.

March 1: Kick-Ass (2010) dir. Matthew Vaughn - 8/10

Even when Matthew Vaughn is bad, he is still amazingly fun, and this movie is by no means a bad movie. Nicolas Cage gives the best performance, I love his delivery on some of his lines. This movie is so much fun y’all. Just watch it, you’ll have a good time. (And yes, I know both Quicksilvers are in this, you don’t have to tell me) 

March 13: There Will Be Blood (2007) dir. Paul Thomas Anderson - 10/10

This is a fuck-you movie. This movie curb stomped me, spat in my face, and told me I’d never make it in this industry. I don’t need to tell you this movie is incredible, ‘cause if you’ve seen it you already know, and if you haven’t you are seriously missing out.

March 14: The Philadelphia Story (1940) dir. George Cukor - 7/10

I had a hard time deciphering how I feel about this movie. I watched this for a Classic Film course, so I had a couple days to listen to and share some deeper analysis, and I feel like this film is actually pretty good. I don’t have any strong feelings on it, check it out if you like classic film.

March 14: Moulin Rouge! (2001) dir. Baz Luhrmann - 8/10

This movie is bombastic as hell, and even if this is a bad movie, it’s a good movie in my soul. Ewan McGregor, please return my calls.

March 15: The Ruthless (2019) dir. Renato De Maria - 5/10

I guess this movie just isn’t for me, I don’t know. I really do like Riccardo Scamarcio in this movie, but that’s the extent of the really good things. I was on a “Santino from John Wick” kick, I can’t really explain it. 

March 20: The Host (2006) dir. Bong Joon-ho - 9/10

Bong Joon-ho has never disappointed me once, and I don’t think he ever will. This is one of the best monster movies I have ever seen (granted I don’t think I’ve seen a lot of monster movies). Watch this movie, it has a wonderful heart and a wonderful monster.

March 20: Citizen Kane (1941) dir. Orson Welles - 10/10

Anything I can say about this movie has already been said, so I’m going to leave you with “I wrote a paper on this film and got a C so fuck this movie” and call it a day.

March 27: Sound of Metal (2019) dir. Darius Marder - 9/10

I am so glad a watched this movie. Riz Ahmed gives an award winning performance if only he hadn’t been competing against Anthony Hopkins. Paul Raci is also really, really good in this movie, and I don’t think that’s mentioned as much, and I think it should be. 

April 6: Casablanca (1942) dir. Michael Curtiz - 9/10

I did not think I would enjoy Casablanca as much as I did, but yeah. This is a great movie. I wanna go on record and say Humphrey Bogart is not tall, he is 5′8″. He wears pumps in this movie and they’re really funny to look at.

April 10: Dr. No (1962) dir. Terence Young - 7/10

This was my introduction to the Bond universe, and I thought it was a pretty good way to get me into the character of James Bond. Sean Connery is the strongest part of this movie as Bond. It is by no means a perfect movie, some aspects are extraordinarily outdated. But as a first crack this movie gets two thumbs up from me.

April 18: The Godfather (1972) dir. Francis Ford Coppola - 10/10

This film is truly something special. I am lucky that I was able to experience the story basically blind (I knew about some specific plot points and some famous lines, but for the most part this was all new to me), and I was extra lucky that I got to watch it with my dad. Being able to watch The Godfather with someone who has a deep love of the genre and the film itself is something that enhances almost every movie going experience. The Godfather is one of the greats. 

April 19: Mank (2020) dir. David Fincher - 6/10

I am not in love with this movie. I don’t hate it, but I don’t particularly like it either. The production design is great, and as a general appreciator of classic cinema I liked those aspects just fine. There’s just something in here that’s preventing me from fully liking this movie. 

April 21: Judas and the Black Messiah (2021) dir. Shaka King - 9/10

The only way I can describe this movie is “important.” King gives us a story of a often left out part of the Civil Rights movement, and it’s a story that everyone should be aware of. Fred Hampton was only 21 when he was assassinated, and yet he left such a mark on the fight for racial equality. Daniel Kaluuya absolutely deserved his Oscar win, he is a dream in this film. This is an uncompromising, tragic, and endlessly relevant movie.

April 23: The Father (2020) dir. Florian Zeller - 10/10

Yeah I cried. Anthony Hopkins is... I don’t think his performance can be summed up in words. It’s heartbreaking, everything about this movie is soul-crushing. 

April 24: Promising Young Woman (2020) dir. Emerald Fennell - 8/10

(You can tell I was cramming for the Oscars at this point) It is really hard to review Promising Young Woman. It’s incredibly polarizing to the film community, and it’s also polarizing in my own opinion. I really don’t know how I feel here, all I know is my feelings are strong. Also every time Bo Burnham was on screen I had a big stupid grin on my face, I can’t wait for his new special to come out. 

April 25: Nomadland (2020) dir. Chloe Zhao - 9/10

What a beautiful experience. This movie, on top of being absolutely gorgeous, has such a wonderful soul that completely shines through Zhao’s directing. There’s a monologue about maybe a half hour in that describes so succinctly the beauty of nature, and as someone who lives in a much more urban area of the world, it’s a description that I don’t get to see that often in my life. That’s why I love film. If Promising Young Woman made me angry at the world Nomadland made me fall back in love with it.

April 25: Minari (2020) dir. Lee Isaac Chung - 8/10

Watching Minari is like being gently set on fire. My feelings aren’t as strong as they were for Nomadland, and I don’t have much to say, but I still adore this movie and think it’s worth watching. 

April 26: Singin’ in the Rain (1952) dir. Gene Kelly, Stanley Donen - 8/10

I think my film teacher puts it best in describing this movie as “just so stinkin joyous.” That’s what this movie is, it’s joy put to film. I love how you can clearly see the excitement over making film that comes through in older movies, I feel like you don’t really see that anymore. 

April 28: Some Like It Hot (1959) dir.  Billy Wilder - 7/10

As glaringly outdated this film is, I still managed to have a pretty good time with it, although I can totally see why the plot could put some people off, or even make them outright dislike the film as a whole. Marilyn Monroe playing a ukulele made me feel very seen. (This is my first Marilyn movie as well!)

April 29: Snowpiercer (2013) dir. Bong Joon-ho - 8/10

CHRIST this movie is intense. The best part of Snowpiercer is it is engaging as hell. Unfortunately I had to duck out about three quarters of the way through to get some dental work done, but rest assured under different circumstances I would have been glued to the screen from start to finish. The premise is chilling (ha ha, get it), and the subplot of class disparity is also really compelling. If you know me you’ll know that I love me some John Hurt, Song Kang-ho has been great in pretty much every movie I’ve seen him in, TILDA FUCKING SWINTON rocks every scene she’s in. My only real problem here is sometimes Chris Evans is a bit hit or miss for me, I really like his performance at times, and I like it less at others. It has been cool to see him grow as an actor over the years, you can definitely see his improvement in more recent movies. In any case, I stand by my previous statement, Bong Joon-ho has never disappointed me once, and I don’t think he ever will.

[serenasoutherlyns]

Full of Surprises ch. 1-3

casey/alex, past alex/olivia. semi-au & fuzzy timeline, set post season 9. cross-posted from ao3 so the first three chapters are coming at ya all at once. TW for series-typical violence, SA, and discussions of mental illness. less graphic than the show. Fluff, romance, angst! First three chapters are totally SFW.

And yet, as she scanned the place, she caught someone she recognized. Sitting at the bar, bent over a notebook, was Casey Novak; her deep red hair tied back in a casual ponytail, an empty highball glass in front of her, chewing on the end of a click pen.

1 .

This wasn’t where Alex would usually find herself. Or at least, it didn’t used to be. Maybe it was now.

Emily had spent her evenings sat at a booth in the back of the local pub, watching and sketching. The books she’d filled, she kept them safely tucked in a box in the back of her closet, initialed “EC.” Alex couldn’t find it in her to draw much anymore.

Anne was alone more than not, spent long evenings reading philosophy, went running early mornings, yoga classes, taught herself guitar, filled hours on hours with ideas and exhaustion. Alex didn’t spend much time poring over The Republic these days, her guitar was long covered in dust.

In law school, her friends had a favorite table in the window of a little cafe, they would go from morning coffee to afternoon study to sharing bottles of red wine, coming and going as they pleased, debating with hopeful glimmers in their bright eyes. Late into the night, arm wrapped around Sylvia’s waist, listening to her classmates carry on, she’d watch the candles burn down. Sylvia had called her Lexi, whispered in her ear on night walks in the cold Cambridge air to their little apartment, gentle hands soothing her most anxious times. Alex hadn’t felt like that in years.

College weekends were spent at punk shows in basements, though she knows now nobody would believe it, young Alex Cabot (the nickname had been coined in those years, sharper edged than the elaborate Alexandra) knew how to have some fun, at least back then. She’d dyed her hair black and worn studs on her collar, had a reputation for being a player, and it seemed like the back of her right hand was constantly stained with marker residue. Sticky floors and lipgloss on her neck, so many firsts all at once.

Her evenings during her years in the DA’s office were usually full of work, except the odd night when she’d meet the detectives for a drink at their haunt or head out with the other ADAs to some upscale cocktail bar. Two different crowds with two different mentalities, the detectives were dedicated to a fault, while the prosecutors were insufferably full of themselves. The detectives would tire her out by 11:30, but she’d find an excuse to leave the ADA excursions before 9. Far more special were the many evenings spent in Olivia’s apartment drinking two beers each and filling the quiet air with soft laughter and conversation.

But a little library themed speakeasy? Not her typical place. Well. No time like the present to change one’s habits. She’d been recommended it by an old law school friend a couple weeks ago, bumped into him on a whim in a coffee shop, was surprised she wasn’t dead, had been there last night, said it was right up her alley. Its illicit vibe wasn’t exactly to ADA Cabot’s tastes, no. But it scratched something in Alex, that hadn’t been satisfied since those basement nights and cozy cafe afternoons. From the place’s shelves she’d pulled a book of Pre-Raphaelite poetry and sat in a comfy chair with a scotch and a San Pelligrino, pleased, at least, to be out of the apartment for the evening.

She didn’t need the money, but she’d been copyediting textbooks freelance, filling up her time with grammar and word choice. She’d been reading a lot of fiction. She adopted two extremely fluffy cats. It was a pleasant, if mundane, life. It turned out, Alex had realized, that there were plenty of eager and capable young attorneys who could do her former job as well as she ever had. She felt, finally, like she deserved a bit of a rest. Needed one, really. Someone would do the prosecuting. The thought of stepping back in the courtroom, looking at the bench, examining witnesses, made her feel sick to her stomach, though she had once loved that life. It wasn’t her anymore— maybe it never really had been. She decided this was her kind of place after all. This iteration of Alexandra Cabot would drink bubbly water in secluded speakeasies while reading poetry.

Alex didn’t expect to see anybody she knew, not somewhere you needed a password to get into, where the music was indie folk and old jazz from a vintage record player, the drinks had names like the “Lady Brett” and the “Daisy Buchanan,” and most of the patrons were dressed in flannel with their noses buried in old books. And yet, as she scanned the place, she caught someone she recognized. Sitting at the bar, bent over a notebook, was Casey Novak; her deep red hair tied back in a casual ponytail, a half-empty highball glass in front of her, chewing on the end of a click pen.

This was surprising. Alex, though she hadn’t ever known Casey well, before her first brief return to life as Alex Cabot, only as one of the white collar ADAs (they ran in a bit of a pack, didn’t shy away from imitating the lifestyles of those they prosecuted). After knowing her as a prosecutor, Alex would expect to see Casey in a sports bar watching a game, or in some chrome-gilded bar with high ceilings drinking designer cocktails and cheering on a verbal showdown between her colleagues. Or in the center of a showdown like that. Not alone, writing in a moleskine, wearing a red flannel over a simple black dress. Casey was striking, Alex realized, before she realized she’d been looking a little longer than was considered normal. She hoped she didn’t seem like a creep watching from afar. She considered getting up, saying hello, but felt that Casey may not even remember her, may not want to be disturbed as she wrote, may not even recognize her anymore. She’d changed her appearance when she’d gone back to being Alex Cabot, cut her hair in a short bob, dyed it dark brown, wore thick rimmed glasses and simple clothing, too painful to be the formal blonde she used to be. Barely the same woman who’s once-murderer Casey had put behind bars those years ago.

Alex didn’t have to consider talking to Casey, however, because almost as soon as she returned to her book, she heard the sound of rubber soled sneakers against the old hardwood floors and a voice beside her.

“Hey stranger,” she said.

“Hi Casey,” Alex said as she slid her bookmark into place and looked up at the familiar face with a smile. “Care to join me?”

2 .

“I almost didn’t recognize you,” Casey said as she sat down. “I’m allowed to, uh, talk to you right? Though I guess if I wasn’t you wouldn’t acknowledge me, which would be fine, by the way.” There was the Casey Alex remembered, her words getting ahead of her.

“It’s fine, I’m me again,” Alex said calmly, “It’s really good to see you, though I wouldn’t have imagined you to be the writing type, or the underground-library-bar type” Alex gestured to the leather notebook in Casey’s left hand.

“I’m full of surprises, Alexandra Cabot.” Casey said in a tone that suggested she was sarcastic, yet convinced Alex she was telling the truth. Alex sipped her water.

“What were you working on?” She asked, not wanting to pry, but very eager to catch up, to know why she was alone in a place like this.

“Oh, nothing, nothing interesting. Just some little bits and pieces.” Casey replied.

“Not argument notes on a Saturday night, I hope?” Alex asked, though she knew that she would’ve done the same thing back when she was in the DA’s office. Casey looked pale, uncomfortable for a moment. “I’m sorry,” Alex said, trying to soothe any pain she may have caused, though she couldn’t fathom why. “I don’t mean to bring up work when you’re trying to relax.” At this, Casey just looked confused.

“Alex, have you not heard?” Casey said, searching for signs of recognition in the woman’s eyes, but finding only further confusion continuing, her voice low, “I was censured a few months ago. I can’t practice law for at least three years.” Alex’s eyes opened wide and she set her glass down on the table between them. “I’m surprised the rumor hasn’t reached your circles yet, though I admit I’m glad I get to be the one to tell someone for a change.” Alex noticed Casey cross her arms together over her chest, closing herself up, making herself seem smaller.

It was quiet for a while, the sounds of Ella Fitzgerald on the speakers, quiet conversations, and pages turning filling it. “I’m sorry, no, I hadn’t heard. That’s too bad. Do you want to talk about it?” Casey grinned at the suggestion, oddly intimate for the two women who, while they hardly knew each other, had shared some of the most intense moments either of them had experienced in a courtroom.

“I think I’ve gone over it enough in my head, but uh, thank you.” Casey said, her voice wobbling on the thanks, “You know, you’re the first person so far to actually ask me that?”

“I’m sorry.” Was Alex’s reply. Surely Casey had people who were interested in her feelings?

“The circumstances were,” Casey trailed off as she looked for the right wording, “I was at fault, for sure. But I was just trying to do the right thing, and I made a mistake.”

“Nothing shocking, I hope?” Asked Alex, still trying to ascertain the nature of the censure, wondering about what the woman sitting across from her could’ve done.

“I violated due process, technically.” Casey replied, attempting to gauge Alex’s reaction, but seeing that it continued to be contemplative rather than condemning, continued, “I shouldn’t’ve, but I think all of us have done worse in our time. But I was not in Donnelly’s good graces, so…” instead of ending her sentence, Casey sipped the last of her drink and looked up at Alex nervously, hoping the woman wouldn’t judge her too harshly.

“Oh man, Casey. That’s really tough. I’m sorry.” Casey searched for any sign of disapprobation in Alex’s tone, but finding only genuine concern, relaxed.

“So I’ve been doing other stuff for a little while. Using my undergrad,” she said, truly sarcastic this time. “What about you Cabot? What’s keeping you from your old haunt? And what’s with the brunette look?”

Alex wanted to answer, but wasn’t going to let Casey get away completely with deflecting. “You didn’t answer my question, Novak. What’s in the notebook?”

Casey laughed. “You really are relentless.” Alex just raised an eyebrow smugly while sipping her drink, as if to say, go on. “It’s a poetry journal. I’ve kept one since college.”

This admission broke the unflappable Alex Cabot’s reserve and she couldn’t keep herself from a few giggles. “I apologize,” she said, “for laughing at you. Just, the idea of Casey Novak the poet would not have occurred to me.”

“Like I said,” Casey started, “I’m full of surprises. And nobody has laughed at me in a long time,” she continued, beginning to laugh herself. “Believe it or not, I have an English degree.”

“Ok, ok, stop. I’m not sure I can take many more shocks tonight,” teased Alex.

“And you, didn’t answer my question. What’s with the brunette? You look beautiful,” Casey said before realizing what she was saying, shutting herself up before she said anything embarrassing.

“I needed a change,” Alex said, “Something to distance myself from my old selves. I never dyed my hair before, or switched up my look at all really. Just, a change.”

“I get that.” Casey said, and Alex felt like she really did get it, somehow more than anybody else had to this point. She’d seen a few old colleagues and friends, and they all had looked at her with this mixture of fear and pity that made her wish she was invisible. But Casey seemed to say something deeper in just three words.

They talked together late into the night, about books and drinks (Casey had been a bartender in college, her knowledge on pairings was unparalleled) and everything but law. It was close to 2:00 am when Casey started to yawn.

“I’m really glad I ran into you, Alex,” she said as they left the bar, her voice scratchy from talking quietly, a subtle accent that Alex couldn’t quite place showing through under the influence of sleepiness and her light buzz. It was adorable, Alex found herself thinking.

“Me too, Casey,” Alex replied, and before she could turn to start walking towards her apartment, only a block or so away, she was met with a hug. It was brief, but Alex took in the scent of Casey’s coconut shampoo, sweet and pleasing.

“I wouldn’t have expected you to be much of a hugger either,” Alex said as she pulled away, brushing her hands on Casey’s elbows.

“I guess you have a lot to figure out,” she said, playfully, as Alex handed her into a cab.

As Alex walked up the stairs to her apartment (she could afford a bigger place, but this one, this one felt right), Alex replayed the evening and regretted not asking for Casey’s phone number before she left. When she pulled her keys out of her pocket to unlock the door, she found a piece of paper, with a number and a note:

text me, so I can learn some of your surprises.

3 .

Alex was awake.

The same old dreams kept her restless. It had been a bad night, she’d slept less than 3 hours before she woke, startled, as the sun just began to rise, 5 am on a Saturday in September.

Foggily, she attempted to reconstruct the details of her pieced together dreams, her therapist, Julia, had convinced her to keep a journal. She said the nightmares of being shot, of nobody recognizing her, those made perfect sense, classic PTSD symptoms. With what happened to her it would’ve been stranger to not suffer it. But these hadn’t been those dreams.

Clare Cartwright, age 15 stood in line at the coffee shop. Her face was pink with tears but nobody saw anything out of the ordinary except for Alex, watching her from a table. Clare’s cheeks were wet and covered in running mascara but the barista didn’t bat an eye as she ordered an iced chai and sat down alone with her laptop. Tears turned to sobs turned to screams, thrashing, but she just kept typing, sipping her tea, nobody did a damn thing. Alex tried to rise from her seat, go to the girl, hold her and scratch her back while she cried, but the heavy weight of her own body kept her seated, powerless to do anything. She tried to yell across the room, tell her that it was going to be ok, she was going to put whoever hurt her behind bars, protect her from them forever. But when she opened her mouth all breath was sucked out of her lungs, she collapsed. Clare’s cries echoed ceaselessly.

Trevor Hamilton, a 20 something pro, had been turning tricks all night but one guy had taken it a little too far. He was sure his neck, hips would be covered in nasty bruises the next day. Oh well. Nobody believed a pro who cried rape. He stuffed his cash in his briefs and made his way towards the van he slept in with three other guys but before he could get there, he fell, body bloody. Nobody heard a sound but Trevor must have been shot. His blood was cold as it poured out of him onto the sidewalk but he stood up. He wasn’t dead. In the morgue, Melinda Warner ruled the cause of death a fatal gunshot wound to his back, probably a stray bullet, but he’d had sex the night he died, maybe an angry John. Alex told everyone that he wasn’t dead. Trevor whispered in her ear, asked her how could she let them say he was dead, how could she let them get away with saying such a thing like that, how could she let them call what had happened to him sex. Alex repeated herself over and over but all she got in return from the detectives were sympathetic looks of confusion as they sent her home for the day. She must’ve been too tired, Alex heard Olivia tell Elliot, maybe her mind was acting up again, sleep deprivation can kickstart psychosis. Someone would check in on her that night, make sure she wasn’t relapsing. Alex knew she wasn’t hallucinating, because Trevor had spoken to her in the clearest voice she’d heard in months. Alex wept for Trevor the whole way home and then some but nobody seemed to notice.

Annabelle Lamm wore a fuzzy pink nightgown when her grandmother brought her into the precinct one snowy night. Olivia called Alex to come to the precinct, they needed a warrant for the apartment, they found fluids in the girl’s hair of all places, grandma handed them an envelope full of pictures of Annie that nobody in the family admitted to taking. It was a no brainer warrant, Alex didn’t even mind waking up a judge for it if it meant getting whoever had been hurting this little girl as soon as possible. When Alex arrived to the building, Olivia wasn’t there and all the lights were off. Alex clicked on a lamp, wondered if Liv had found another ADA and rushed off without telling her anything. But the room was unfamiliar, empty, concrete. In the center of the room standing perfectly still was a 5 year old girl in a pink fuzzy nightgown. Alex ran to her but couldn’t get any closer. The little girl had a hollow expression and didn’t move an inch. Alex kept running and running but her feet stayed in the same spot, powerless.

Yeah. Powerless. As she awoke she felt like she was still running, head still spinning, still heard screams.

She wrote it all down in her journal. Julia had said that it was unusual for people whose jobs involved consistently levels of high stress and disturbance to have the severity of symptoms she had; that there was usually a tolerance that was built up to being horrified. Alex had either never had that tolerance or it had been washed away during the years she’d spent in WITSEC because her very brief return to the practice of law had nearly broken her.

“Sleep deprivation can kickstart psychosis,” Olivia had told her once when they first worked together, ostensibly referring to a case of statutory rape where the perp didn’t recall a single piece of the event; but Alex knew the comment was pointed at her, not the perp. Olivia could tell that Alex’s patience was growing thin, her mind unfocused; she must’ve deduced that Alex wasn’t sleeping much. But Alex already knew the warning signs.

Alexandra Cabot, age 16, sat shaking in a hospital room. It was almost finals week, she’d pulled a few all nighters, it was nothing serious, she’d told her school counselor a week prior when her friends had noticed her speech patterns growing muddled. She stayed up another 24 hours and the last thing she remembered was her roommates grabbing her wrists and pulling her inside off the balcony. After that, the school had installed locks on all the windows. Alexandra was freezing in her hospital gown, brain numbed out from the IV antipsychotics she was attached to. A few days in the hospital to take care of her injuries (she was informed that she had thrown herself against the wall while school officials took her to the ER), then a summer of residential treatment, hopefully she would be able to return to boarding school in the fall. Her father looked at her with a shattered expression, her mother treated her with cold indifference, her friends didn’t talk to her. Major depression with psychotic features.

Alex knew the consequences of not sleeping enough. She considered taking her cup of mint tea and heading back to bed, cuddling up to her cats, reading a book maybe, just trying to screw her head on right. Her body fought her though, nervous energy ran through her veins, so she elected to have a walk instead. Besides, it had been years since she’d had any serious episode. Anxiety, sure, and the occasional month or so of depression, a few close calls, but regular therapy and medication kept her more or less in the clear since college. Her family, her therapists, had suggested she go into a different kind of law, something stimulating but less distressing like, intellectual property, but she had refused, felt called to prosecuting. But her experience was what made her a great prosecutor, and it was why she had been so adamant about the proper handling of cases involving those suffering from mental illness, especially victims, but perps as well. She knew how it felt, more than she admitted to almost anybody, but she also knew there were paths through it.

The same old nightmares, but Alex was a different person. The old Alex would’ve thrown herself even harder into work than usual, won her cases even more viciously, assuaged her feelings of powerlessness by asserting control. This Alex knew that complete control was unattainable.

The September air was cold this early in the morning, but bracing. The contrast between her thermos full of hot tea pleased her, she pretended she was a dragon as she breathed steam. She smiled to herself at the thought and at the bright orange sun rising through the treetops in the park by her apartment. This had been the right choice, sunrises were her favorite magic. Content covered her like a well fitting dress, shaking off the nerves slowly. The most dedicated joggers and newsstand operators were the only other people out this early, the quietest time in the city. Alex’s phone buzzed.

Casey: Nice coat, Cabot.

Alex looked up from her phone, confused. What? Maybe it was delivered late. She’d seen Casey two days ago for coffee— they’d developed a friendship. Texts, coffee, nothing too deep; but then it had only been a couple weeks since they’d run into each other at the library bar. Alex liked Casey. She was funny and a good listener, and she always had something to say. She didn’t walk on eggshells around Alex either, making Casey unique among her friends. She’d tried to meet up with Liv right when she’d gotten back to the city the second time, but the way she looked at her cut way too deep, like she was a hero, like she was a victim. Both of those she may well be, but she needed to be treated as a friend. Casey did that for her, down to playfully teasing her over her eccentric habits. Another text:

Casey: Turn around, Clueless.

Not many people had ever called Alexandra Cabot clueless. Alex turned around, and Casey waved at her excitedly from the jogging path and without waiting for Alex’s reaction began to run up to where she was sitting. Alex was surprised to see her, happily so. She knew Casey was athletic, but didn’t take her to be the 5:30 running type. She wore tight leggings and a running jacket, and the biggest smile Alex had seen from her. She looked beautiful in the soft early light, Alex thought, then immediately blushed at that thought.

She’d never been one to shy away from her sexuality, especially when she realized the destructive role repression had played in her life before she came out. Alex had been out since college, but she tried very hard not to crush on straight women. She knew she couldn’t control who she was attracted to, but it always made her feel a bit dejected, so. Nip that in the bud.

Alex didn’t have much time to consider the ethics of her thoughts, because Casey was right in front of her, grabbing her hands.

“It’s so good to see you! A second surprise encounter, must be fate, Cabot,” Casey said in a quiet voice, a wink in her words.

“Something like that,” Alex replied, “What are you doing out so early?”

“I could ask the same of you; I’m just finishing up my run. You are wearing a fancy coat and looking deep in thought, in fact, you are being far more suspicious than I am, look at how many people are out here jogging, I mean,”

“Oh my god,” Alex cut her off with an eye roll, “Ok, stop cross-examining me.”

Casey gave Alex a genuine laugh, “Old habits die hard.” She paused for a second. “You look pale, did you sleep?”

“Thanks, Casey.” Alex gave her a playful glare. “If three nightmares in three hours counts, then yes, I slept.”

“Oh you poor thing. I’d hug you but,” She gestured to her sweaty figure. “You wanna get breakfast? I’ll pop back to my apartment, shower, and meet you at yours in say, half an hour?”

Alex started slightly at the familiarity, but responded, “Yeah, sure, sounds fun. Uh, here I’ll text you my address.”

Did Casey blush? Alex couldn’t be sure due to her post-run glow and the chill in the air. “Sorry if that’s too familiar, I know we usually plan these things out, and I guess I just assumed you didn’t have plans, it’s totally fine if you don’t want to, you know, runner’s high and all,” but Alex cut her off again with a raise of her eyebrows.

“Are you retracting the offer, Novak?” Alex couldn’t resist the urge to tease the woman in front of her. “Because if I recall correctly, I said yes.”

Casey grew more flustered, replied with a quick, “Nope, still happening, see you in half an hour,” and took off running, leaving Alex behind as she laughed in disbelief.

[mysweetgirl2-love]

Livestream~ (corpse_husband x reader)

Alright, I’ve skipped ahead a few prompts because I’ve been just too excited to write out this idea and I was falling behind... so I will be going back, but I’ve skipped to my day 9 prompt. Slight (SLIGHT) exhibition. To reiterate the title, this is a oneshot about you and Corpse. I want to just say that this Corpse is him as a character and not him as a person. Think of a “fanon” version of some sorts. I know that the real Corpse is a very private person (obviously) and I would hate for him to be uncomfortable if he were to ever find this. I am really just writing this for comfort and the enjoyment of others. So, without further ado, enjoy!

Word Count: 5,958

Day 9 - Exhibition (Implied)

“Yo! YO! It’s Corpse! It’s fucking Corpse, holy shit-“

“What? Literally how?”

“I- fucking- I saw you legit go into electrical with pewds, leave, for me to then go up and find his body right next to the vent.”

“He was doing the upload task, I think, cuz’ I left him there when he was alive. You definitely self-reported.”

“Toast, you gotta believe me, it’s fucking Corpse.”

The arguments while playing this game were some of the most frustrating and yet exciting conversations you’d had in ages. Especially when it came down to the final two. That was the jackpot.

“Ah… nah, Fable, you’ve been super sus this entire round. There’s no way you did card swipe that quickly-“

“WHAT?!”

The two dings from your headset indicated that the remaining players had voted which only left you. Since Toast didn’t believe you, Corpse had this round in the bag. God. Damnit.

“Fucking- Fine. Thank god for your detective skills, Toast,” You grumbled bitterly, pouting on camera as you voted for the black avatar. Corpse’s avatar.

“You’re just mad that I figured you out..” The streamer teased, you rolling your eyes in response to his unmatched “knowledge.”

“Yeah, yeah, totally… Corpse is just too fucking good at this game, I swear to god,” You continued, definitely a little irritated that the match turned on you so fast.

It didn’t help when all you could do was helplessly watch from the other side of the screen as your purple avatar launched out into space. Oh well, it was over.

“Heh… I’m just glad you admit it,” The deep voice filled your headphones making you roll your eyes.

The screen suddenly darkened, a red gleam appearing as two characters stood next to one another. Spedicey and, who would’ve guessed, Corpse. Shocking.

“What?!” Toast exclaims.

“I can’t BELIEVE you didn’t think it was him!” Lily speaks up.

“You’re a fuckin’ idiot, Toast,” Felix almost groans, sounding slightly annoyed.

“Seriously…” You comment, smirking slightly at the groan of confusion from the man in question.

“What? Fable, you were so sus that entire round!” Toast stressed, your headphones filling with laughter as you clicked to play again.

“What do you mean?! I Iegit just scanned my card and you’re trying to call me on it! For NO good reason!” You retorted, wanting to facepalm so hard.

“I didn’t think you could do it that fast!” He yelled back, “I thought you were faking it, there was no way!”

“The only one who really struggles with card swipe here is Corpse,“ Jack cut in, you erupting in laughter at his words.

“What?- Uh- Come on, don’t do me like that…” He essentially growled into the mic, your arms erupting with goosebumps at the sound of him once again.

“That’s not true either! Jack, you know how hard card swipe is!” Valkarae stood up for the deep spoken imposter, “…but you guys both won anyway. So, whatever…”

You all simply laughed along with one another at that, the frustration fading as you mentally prepared yourself for another round of this thought-provoking game. Or… so you thought.

“Hey, can we actually hold off for a second? I need to use the bathroom-“ Lily asked, you smiling at how gentle her voice always was.

A stark contrast to the one that followed.

“Yeah, same here. Gamer bladder,” Corpse followed.

You shook your head at the later comment, clearing your throat as before leaning in towards your mic, “So, 5 minute break then?”

“Yeah.”

“Sounds good!”

“Sure, I’ll just be here.”

Felix, Rae, and Jack responded.

“…Sykunno?” You asked, having not heard his voice in awhile.

“He left to use the bathroom after he finished his tasks in the last round, texted me saying something about getting a snack,” Toast replied for him, you nodding to no one in particular but your chat.

“Got it,” You pressed the mute button for discord and turned to your face cam, “Guess I’ll run to the restroom as well, stay tuned!”

You clicked a few things to allow an ad to run across your stream, labeling it for around four minutes before reaching for your headphones. You placed them on your desk and sighed, leaning back in your chair.

You heard the door in the hallway open, smiling gently to yourself before standing from the chair. You turned towards your own closed door, taking the appropriate amount of steps to open it before peaking around the doorway.

“Hm…” You walked out slightly, turning towards the closed bathroom door and smirking before creeping out of your room and over to his.

Corpse’s room. Your boyfriend.

You and Corpse had started seeing each other a month or two into quarantine during the pandemic. Having known each other a year or two from both of your professions bringing you together under the circumstances, it seemed appropriate.

He was a real-life horror story teller, taking people’s information by email and anonymously telling their tales. You? You told mythologies of all kinds through your own renditions of the stories with art. You also managed to make the stories more light hearted and funny with a few jokes now and then, and people seemed to appreciate the humor you found in some of the topics.

Your channel name had always been Fantasized Fables, a little odd but it got your content across. Since your channel hit, your name was no secret but people liked calling you Fable.

You honestly thought it made you sound a lot more badass than you actually were.

Either way, somehow you got connect through a couple of friends and instantly clicked. Corpse was… well, Corpse. You didn’t know that you’d helped him so much when he actually told you what was going on. The endless nights where you would both be up at an ungodly hour and just dm-ing one another. It started after a few nights you both saw each other online, quickly progressing into something much bigger than that.

It got deep all the time. You both had so many thoughts about life and each other’s and your own… you felt so safe when telling this faceless internet friend all your deepest, darkest thoughts. But, you knew Corpse had more. He always told you more, you almost wanted more to comfort him over. The feelings started to fester and grow… there was no stopping how you felt about him.

The day you two actually met was never going to be forgotten, by either of you. It was unintentional, almost straight from a movie. You had, at this point, exchanged contact information and had been now calling for the majority of May. Not to mention, you both found out you lived in SoCal, only progressing  On this particular afternoon, you texted him that you were going on a coffee run to Starbucks… him saying he was going out for the first time as well.

Masked up and muffled, you of course could tell it was his voice from across the street. The slightly amplified “oh fuck” was the biggest giveaway you could’ve imagined. Your eyes looking up to find a man, dressed in complete black, chains and earrings, shaggy black hair- there was so doubt in your mind.

You called his name, his eyes looking up to find yours across the way… traffic laws weren’t going to stop the saint up to him and into his arms. A big, long, well-deserved embraced you knew the both of you needed. He had always been so kind… and gentle… him being physically there was just so… relieving.

The rest is history, and you honestly moved into his apartment as quickly as you could. You couldn’t stand him living alone like that anymore, and he obviously let you in without a second thought.

You both were extremely happy to have each other, and it just kept getting better from there.

You gently shut the door behind you, creeping over to his setup and sliding into his chair, humming softly as you watched the endless chat messages buildup along the screen and peering at the number of viewers he had now achieved.

JEEEZUS christ, 200k?! That’s insane! You thought, widening your eyes at the number on the screen.

Your streams only ever reached 90k, which was a lot more than you had expected. The number was slowly growing now, though… ever since Corpse blew up on tiktok for just posting videos of his hands.

Wild.

You clicked through a few comments, watching super comments flash along the chat as well as mods trying to attempt to get slow chat to work. You couldn’t help but slightly laugh at the struggle, turning back towards the game as a few of the avatars began bouncing around with one another. People were getting back to the game.

You were about to shift around in his seat, reaching for the keyboard to type something in game when two larger hands came gently down on your shoulders. They pushed you gently down against the chair, causing it to lean back with your body. A face moved next to your ear, lips grazing against the skin.

“Whattup Baby?~” That low voice growled, you gently flinching at the rumbling next to your ear.

You turned to find Corpse grinning down at you, his hands easing up off your body and reaching for your face. His right hand came in contact with your cheek, gently squeezing against it as he slowly walked around the chair and crouched down. To be right beneath your eye level.

“Hi..” You hummed, leaning over to press your lips against his forehead before leaning back to look in his maroon-like eyes.

“Why’re you in my chair? You need to get back to your own stream, silly~” He hummed, beginning to stand as he reached for your arm to pull you out of the chair.

You grinned, your head falling back begrudgingly as he easily pulled you from the comfortable seat.

“Wait…! I just wanted to see you…” You lightly whined, him chuckling in response as you stood on your two feet. Him replacing the spot where you had sat.

“Uhuh… and why’s that?” He teased lightly, you couldn’t help but scoff gently while your heart rate increased. He always had that effect on you.

“Well, I mean… I wanted to both congratulate and bother you about your… fucking imposter round-“ He erupted in laughter, you grinning along with him with a simple eye roll, “hey! Let me finish, it was a good round, I’ll give you that… but you threw me under the bus while doing it…! For no reason!”

He raised his brow lightly, his laughter coming to a soft chuckle as he shrugged, “I mean, I gotta keep my title as ‘too fucking good at imposter.’ Sorry, princess…”

You playfully glared in his direction, a stupid smirk spreading across his face. Your lower lip jutted out from your upper one, crossing your arms as you simply pouted in response. He huffed in response, his smirk turning to more of a smile as he reached back out for you.

“C’mere…” He grumbled, his hand grabbing your arm as he pulled you back down to the chair.

“Wait- Ah!” You almost fell against him, barely able to catch yourself against the arm rests on his chair. You looked up, slightly panicked from the sudden fall, to find Corpse smirking right back.

“Wait for what? You’re not ready for affection?” He asked softly, his hand reaching up to push a few loose strands of hair behind your ear.

“N-No, that’s not it…” You mumbled, letting your gaze fall to his chest, seeing the definition of his body through his baggy sweater.

You felt fingers press against the underside of your chin, pushing your face up to look back towards him. You felt your face flush in embarrassment, smiling nervously as his smirk had never faltered.

“You don’t look very sure of yourself…” he whispered to you.

You gently bit at the inside cheek, shrugging quickly, “C-Cuz’ I’m not…”

He chuckled deeply, leaning in slightly as he grabbed you by the lips, gently humming against your mouth as his hands gripped your sides.

You whimpered softly against him, beginning to kiss back as you readjusted yourself in his lap. You quietly wrapped your arms around the back of his neck as you leaned against him.

He chuckled softly, moving his lips against yours as his hands gently slipped up beneath the sides of your shirt and lovingly stroked at your now exposed skin.

“God, you’re so beautiful…” he whispered against you, catching your lips quickly as he continued, “You’re too perfect, fuck… too fucking perfect…”

“Corpse, I-..” You kissed him again, one of your hands reaching up towards his head as you tangled your fingers into the back of his hair.

He hummed against your mouth, squeezing your sides gently as his smily broke out into a grin. The tip of his nose pressed against yours as he sighed, “Yes, princess?~”

“Careful, we need to get back to the game…” You whispered, growing a little nervous as he chuckled.

“They can wait…” He sighed, leaning back in to press his lips back to yours, kissing you deeply once again.

You squeaked lightly, timid as ever before you kissed back. You felt his teeth grazing against your lower lip, gently nipping at the skin. You couldn’t help but slightly moan, pulling away from your lips as he trailed light kisses down your chin and along your jaw.

He was going for your neck, getting there before you could express any protest. You sighed loudly as his lips connected to the skin right below your ear, gently growling against you as you felt a slight wet sensation lick against your earlobe. You shivered, the side of your face falling to the top of his head as he continued his attack on your neck.

“Fuck, Corpse~”

“God, you sound so beautiful baby… you keep acting like this and after the stream? I’ll have no choice but to-“

The desk behind you started vibrating in loud, long buzzes. Both of you freezing in your spots as you turned over your shoulder to find Corpse’s phone lighting up with a phone call.

You quirked your brow, “Who’d be calling you this early in the morning?”

It was 12 pm, you both had woken up at 10 am to actually get ready in time to stream. It wasn’t early for the world, but it was early for this apartment.

“I don’t know… weird,” He leaned forward in his chair, you holding tight against his chest as he grabbed the phone and brought it towards the two of you.

You both looked down at the contact name on the screen, your eyes widening at the name that read.

“Why- hm…” Corpse quickly swiped to answer the call, holding the speaker up to his ear, “Hey Rae, everything okay-“

He stopped suddenly mid sentence, his eyes widening as his cheeks lit up in a bright red. It had to have been the most embarrassed you’d ever seen him, his eyes falling to yours as you read the panic within them.

“R-Right- shit… s-sorry- I-I’ll turn it down now… bye,“ He quickly brought the phone away, immediately hanging up as his eyes flashed towards the chat function on his stream.

“Is… Is everything okay…?” You asked hesitantly, leaning over slightly to read for yourself what people had to say. Did something happen in chat while you guys were preoccupied?

Corpse didn’t respond, his eyes just scanned what the letters read on screen. You frowned, you confusion growing by the second. He hit a button on the keyboard, did he just unmute?

A strained laugh left his mouth, falling back in the chair with you still in his arms. His eyes found yours, his lips slowly turning to a grin before he laughed one of the hardest laughs you had yet to hear from him.

Your eyes widened, completely baffled at this point.

“Corpse, please- What happened?”

“We- We- AHA! We were unmuted!! That ENTIRE time!” He cackled, his hand landing on his chest to almost support him in some way.

You, on the other hand, went from complete befuddlement to absolute humiliation. There was no way THAT was just heard by hundreds upon thousands of people. No fucking way.

“Wh-What??” You began to panic, reaching for his broad shoulders and gently holding onto them, “Wh-What are you even t-talking about?!”

He gently gripped onto you in return, readjusting you against him as he held you there. His laughter died down before he leaned forward and pressed a kiss against your nose.

You both were open that you were in a relationship, people knew… but, that doesn’t mean you necessarily wanted them to hear..

“Hey, baby, don’t worry… it could’ve been a lot worse… We’re fine~” he reassured, your brow still tensed from your worry. You knew the worst had already happened when he blew up, but how would they use his voice in that kind of tone…

You didn’t want to think about it too much. Not jealous, more just… weirded out. Who knew how people would use your voice in that tone either? You didn’t dwell on it.

“Ah, o-okay… yeah, nothing we need to worry about now,” You nodded with him, his gentle features turning to a warm smile. He brought his hand up to your cheek, his thumb gently swiping across your skin as he hummed.

“Mhm, all is fine… I promise,” He mumbled to you, leaning in softly to press his lips back against your forehead.

You sighed, pausing against him for a moment before leaning away, “Well… p-probably shouldn’t keep them waiting m-much longer…”

Corpse raised his brow gently smiling sadly in agreement with a slight nod. He gently reached for your hips once again, holding them gently as he helped hoist you back onto your two feet. You yelped softly as you let yourself be lifted, extending your two legs to meet the floor.

You stood still for a moment, your eyes meeting his as you timidly smiled, “S-Sorry about the mic thing… I should’ve stayed in my stream.”

You nervously laughed, his smile never faltering as yours broke out into a grin. Your slight guilt written all over your features.

“No, no, you’re totally fine… don’t apologize,” He hummed, his thumbs gently pressing against your hips as he kept reassuring.

“Okay, haha… now we’ll never forget to check our mics,” You winked softly, your hands grabbing onto his larger ones and squeezing them gently in return.

“Haha… never,” He nodded softly, tilting his head gently to the side as he simply watched you.

You sighed, begrudgingly pulling his hands from your hips as you took a small step away. You gently bounced on the balls of your feet, awkwardly putting your hands together behind your back.

“Hm… well! I- uh… will see you in game…” You smiled, his body turning in his chair as he leaned his chin against two of his fingers that you had freshly reapplied black nail polish that night before.

His brow raised quizzically at you, the damn smirk playing at his lips once again. His fingers flexed slightly, his hands following the motion. You could see the veins running down his wrist from where you stood.

He briefly chuckled, “Yeah… I’ll see you there, baby…”

With that, he turned back towards his screen while you didn’t hesitate towards the door. You walked over and grabbed the handle, briefly turning back to the darkened man on the screen, clicking away at the bursts of notifications he was getting from discord.

Oops.

“I love you-“ You flushed, his eyes pulling away from his screen to find you in the doorway. You could see the tint of pink along his cheeks in the darkness of the room.

“…I love you too. Hurry though, Rae is flipping out-“ He laughed, you not wasting a second more to close the door and bound back over to your recording room.

You shut the door behind you, looking up towards your brightened monitor and feeling your breath catch in your chest. You could see your chat blowing up from here, your phone lighting up with MULTIPLE notifications… God, what an unfortunate mistake for Corpse to have made.

You quicken your pace back to your chair, sliding in and putting your headphones back atop of your head. Your camera had come back on in the time you were gone, giving the device a nervous grin before turning towards the game.

“S-Sorry guys, didn’t mean to take that long- uhm…” Your eyes scanned over the chat, not surprised to find it full of caps-locked comments screaming about what happened on Corpse’s stream.

You sighed nervously, your eyes now finding your discord application notifying you that you had… almost fifty notifications?! You mentally had to roll your eyes, quickly turning back towards the camera with a sheepish smile.

“I- uh… I have to go for another minute- B-Be right back!” You laughed, turning on another ad before mentally cursing at yourself. God damnit- your eyes scanned over the viewers on your stream.

What the shit- when did I get 30k viewers?! What the hell?! Of course this is when your viewers decide to spike.

You groaned to yourself, your head falling to your hand as the other reached for your mouse. You clicked to your discord, slowly… but surely, un-deafened your mic.

“OH. MY. GOD. You FUCKING dumbass!” Rae yelled as soon as you unmuted, flinching at the pitch to her tone. It felt like you were being scolded.

“What?! I can’t show my girlfriend some love?!” Corpse replied, not yelling but a definite inflection in his tone.

“No! Nothing wrong with that! But CHECK your MIC next time!!” She laughed loudly. Oh my god.

“Jesus Christ, dude… or at least lower the sensitivity significantly…” Jack spoke up, almost sounding disappointed.

“Ey, welcome back, Fable-“ Felix spoke up, the cheeky grin evident in his tone.

What a fucking asshole-

“FABLE!”

“Oh my god-“

“You guys can’t wait til after stream?!”

“Wait, what am I joining into…?” A new voice intervened, interrupting Rae, Toast, and Lily.

Charlie, what a man, coming in at the worst time.

“H-Hey Charlie…” You spoke up in a greeting.

“Wha- Wait! Answer the question, Fable!” Lily squealed, a groan leaving your mouth as you fell towards your mic.

“I’m sorry! I-I really didn’t mean for it to happen! I had no clue-“

“Yeah, wait, this isn’t on Fable. She just went to go visit Corpse in the other room, guys, chill…” Felix actually stuck up for you, your face lifting in surprise as his words.

“Uh- yeah, actually, I guess that’s fair,” Jack commented, you nervously laughing in response.

“I… am so sorry to all of you,” You apologized softly, a gentle chorus of laughs following your meek apology.

“No, no, no, you’re so fine. You guys weren’t trying to broadcast whatever… that was…” Sykunno hummed awkwardly, you laughing lightly at his uncertainty.

“It was a poor mistake on my part, I’m sorry, Fable…” Corpse spoke up, you grinning at the sound of his voice.

“N-No worries… hey, we already went over this in person. Can we get back to the game?” You grumbled, another fit of laughter through the group at your excusing of the situation.

“Ahaha, yeah let’s get back into it,” Toast replied, the sound of his mouse clicking lightly being heard in the call.

You sighed, deafening yourself once again and turning back on your stream, “Hey everyone, yep… yep, everything’s fine. No worries, I promise, haha. We took a break for a little longer than expected, but we’re back!”

You un-deafened and were met with sound of a very very confused Charlie, “Wait… so… no one’s going to explain to me what happened?”

You all erupted into loud laughter, you falling back slightly in your chair as you cackled. The first voice to come back was Rae, shockingly.

“Don’t worry, Charlie… we’ll tell you later,” She snickered, you laughing along as you came back to your keyboard.

“So… we can start now, though?” Toast spoke up once again.

You began to give confirmations of “yes” with soft ‘yeah’s and ‘mhm’s. Lazy, but it got the point across.

“Cool, starting the next round…” He clicked play again and the countdown began.

“Alright, everyone, remember to MUTE your mics!” Jack spoke up, you rolling your eyes in response as Corpse’s laugh raised above the rest.

“Will do. Thanks,” He chuckled, a louder laugh sounding through the call once again from all mics.

Your screen turned dark, the red avatar of the Among Us character moving to shush you from the screen. You sighed, watching it turn dark again.

“Yeah- yeah, you’re welcome!” Jack played along, grinning softly at the joke as the screen began lighting up once against.

Your screen displayed your avatar next to Corpse’s, the bright red letters of “Imposter” reading across the computer. You raised your eyebrows, making sure you were completely muted on call before chuckling.

“Oh… Hell yeah. Let’s go…”

[ourloveisforthelovely]

Things We Didn't Tell You...

Harry Potter- Set during the first war

Summary:  Hiding your relationship with Sirius from your brother Remus was a bad idea from day one. Now he's finding out that and other secrets that the two of you have kept.

Pairings: Sirius Black x Reader

Rating: M- for future chapters

_____

She’s off-limits! It's too dangerous.

Sirius’ eyes snapped open as Remus’ words echoed in his head. He knew that hiding his relationship with you from his friend was wrong. Remus would be furious when he found out. If he tried to kill him, Sirius wouldn’t be surprised! You were the younger sister that Remus swore to protect. Now here you were fooling around with one of his brother’s best friends.

It's because of your reputation.

Sirius thought calmly. He knew that fact perfectly well. Had it been James or Peter that wanted to be your lover, Remus may have been a bit more accepting. Sirius, no matter how much Remus cared for him, never would have gotten his friend’s approval. He was too wild, a womanizer, and too involved with the order. Sirius understood. Had the roles been reversed and he was in Remus’ shoes; Sirius would have said a big hell no but that thought alone didn’t stop him from falling in love with you.

All it took was one look from your beautiful green eyes and Sirius was hooked. He would have done anything that you asked. Roll around in a puddle of mud? Spoil you senseless? Whatever you asked was yours. That was what led to the current predicament. The two of you had been in a secret relationship for over 2 years. Both of you decided that it was best to just act as friends around the people that you cared about the most.

“Thinking about tomorrow?”

You asked, tiredly. You had woken up a few moments ago and noticed Sirius looking at the ceiling with that look. You had seen that dark expression on his face too many times in the past year.

“How could I not be? We are literally about to get our asses handed to us.”

You slowly sat up and laid your head on his shoulder. He wasn’t joking in the slightest and you knew it. You would have killed for one of his jokes at the moment.

“Maybe Remus will take it okay? He could have just been giving the ceremonial overprotective brother speech to scare any man from wanting me.”

Sirius chuckled.

“Didn’t work well, did it?”

You were relieved when Sirius smiled. He was right. It didn’t work in the slightest! Maybe, in ways, Remus’ actions drove you into Sirius’ waiting arms.

“Not really. There’s no way we can hide it anymore though. I am sick of hiding too.”

You said, sadly. 2 years of hiding had been exhausting! You hated having to “keep up appearances.” Sirius had to flirt with any woman he could find so Remus and the others wouldn’t grow suspicious. He couldn’t go from man whore to totally disinterested in the female race altogether.

Your eyes froze on the baby blanket at the foot of the bed. That was the other reason that Sirius and yourself couldn't hide any longer. Your 9-month-old daughter Demelza lay sleeping peacefully a few feet away.

None of your friends even knew of her existence. You had expertly hidden your pregnancy the whole time. No one seemed to have the foggiest idea of what was going on underneath your dresses.

Sirius had been in Ireland keeping an eye on some death eater activity when you found out about your condition. You had conned the others into thinking that you were going to France when in fact you were going to Ireland. Sure, it probably wouldn't have made more sense to come clean once you found out that you were pregnant but the two of you were so freaked out...telling didn’t happen.

When Sirius received the letter to come back to London the week before it was time to face the fact that it was time to face the music. There would be no way that you could show back up to London with a baby who looked extraordinarily like her father with little to no explanation. Remus was too smart for his own good and would put 2 and 2 together within seconds.

“I’ve been sick of hiding for a long time.”

Sirius replied. He was silent for a few moments before taking your hand in his.

“I’m not scared of facing your brother. What bothers me is the fact that I have essentially been lying to him for two years.”

You slowly looked up from your place on his shoulder.

“I have too. Look, we did what we did because we both know that Remus would have flipped.”

“It's not like he can stop us from being together now.”

Sirius whispered. Mentally, he thanked Demelza for showing up when she did. Never in a million years did he plan on having a child but when you told him that you were pregnant...nothing else mattered. All Sirius cared about at that point was keeping you healthy and safe.

Yes, it would have been nice to have the support of his friends (especially James) at that particular point in his life. There had been many nights that Sirius and yourself sat outside of Demelza’s nursery at 3 am waiting for the baby to scream herself to sleep. The two of you had done everything to make the baby sleepy and nothing worked.

“Is she ever going to stop crying?”

Sirius muttered peaking through the cracked door to see his very angry daughter, not the least bit interested in sleeping. Instead, she was sitting up, rearranging how everything was in her crib. She was being a bit more dramatic than necessary.

“I don’t know what else to do. We’ve fed her like every 30 minutes for the past two hours. We’ve changed her. Now she is in there throwing a hissy fit like her father.”

Sirius gave you a scowl.

“Now we know why we have had to change her so much. We are never going to sleep again, are we?”

You sighed and put your head against the door.

“I don’t think so. Too bad we can’t bribe her yet.”

Sirius chuckled, wishing that he could get Lily over. She was great with kids. Of all people, she could figure out what the problem was.

“Already tried.”

He confessed.

“She doesn't seem to be the least bit interested.”

Sirius smiled at the memory. Luckily, both of you had gotten a lot better with getting Demelza to sleep when she didn’t want to.

“We should try to get some sleep. 6 am comes early.”

The morning did in fact come earlier than expected. Sirius and yourself stood outside of James and Lily’s house looking at the door like two naughty children. Sirius motioned to the door while adjusting Demelza in his arms.

“Well...what are we waiting for?”

You blinked, giving him the sassiest expression ever. It didn’t matter that the situation was so grave; Sirius still thought that expression was the cutest thing ever. He had already seen Demelza give him that expression far too many times.

“So, that is where she gets that look.”

You smiled and finally knocked on the door.

“Out of the frying pan and into the fire.”

Sirius’ amused expression quickly vanished and the dark one returned.

The moment the door opened, James stood on the other side. His face went from joy to see his best friend to sheer confusion.

“Uh, have I missed something?”

Sirius nodded.

“It's what you are thinking.”

Sirius said, softly. James looked between the two of you a couple of times. He clearly had no idea what to say. James had been looking forward to Sirius coming back to London for some time. Now here he stood with Remus Lupin’s sister and a baby.

“Whoa. I was totally not expecting this. She looks just like you, mate.”

That was all that Sirius needed to hear to know that James wasn’t mad. In fact, he looked down right giddy. This was the last thing that James had expected! He had expected Sirius to just be the fun godfather that had no interest in children of his own. Now here he stood holding a baby.

“Harry will have a little friend. Think about a few years from now when school time comes…”

Sirius smiled.

“Poor Minnie is going to cry. There are two more of us.”

James turned his attention to you.

“Off to France, huh? That was clever and sneaky. I am impressed. I knew that you were more than just some bookworm.”

You couldn’t help but smile at that. Being more than a bookworm was always a joke that James lovingly made in your direction.

“I can be sneaky.”

You said with a smile.

“Is Remus here?”

You asked. James' amused expression vanished. He knew that the two of you would have to face Remus and it probably wasn’t going to be pretty. Remus was in a mood from the full moon anyway now he was about to find out that his best friend and sister ran off and had a baby.

James had a good idea about how nervous you had to be. From the time that James met you, you had always been your brother’s pet. If someone messed with you, they had to deal with Remus and of course the rest of his friends. You were the same way about your brother in turn. James and Sirius always accredited your overprotective mothering to Remus’ furry little problem.

“He is. I’ll play middle man.”

James said with a smile.

The walk into the dinning room seemed to take forever. James glanced at the two of you. It didn’t take him being Sirius’ best friend to know that he was nervous. The smooth cocky demeanor that Sirius normally possessed was nowhere to be found.

James stepped into the dining room first. Remus was busy reading a book. He didn’t even notice his friend's absence. It was Lily, who was holding Harry, that looked up.

“What took so long? Where is Sirius?”

James faked a smile as Remus looked up. His friend looked extremely tired but curious as to what was going on.

“So...I want you all to keep an open mind about what you are about to see.”

“I don’t like conversations that start this way.”

Remus said warily. James nodded as he reached behind him and opened the door.

The moment that Sirius and yourself stepped in, both Lily and Remus’ mouths dropped. Both looked between the two of you as they clearly put everything together.

“What’s going on here?”

Remus asked. His voice was already beginning to tremble. You stepped forward shutting Sirius off from being able to start talking.

“It's what it looks like, Remus.” Your brother ran a hand over his face. He was getting angrier by the second and you could see it. You could also see that he was ill.

It's too close to the moon.

You thought as he stood.

“How long has this been going on?”

Sirius wrapped his free arm around your waist to hold you against him.

“Two years.”

You said, calmly.

Remus meanwhile, was a stone short of going into a tizzy. He had specifically told Sirius that you were off limits. You were too young to be in a committed relationship and Sirius had no idea what a committed relationship was.

Now here the two of you stood saying that there had been some ultra secret two year relationship that resulted in a niece that Remus had no idea of.

“You’re telling me that the two of you have been in a relationship and have a baby? Was it too hard for the two of you to send a letter? Talk to me in person? Sirius, this is the most backhanded lowly thing that you could have…”

You quickly stepped in.

“Remus don’t say something that you will regret later.”

You tried to keep your voice calm and even. Yelling at Remus when he was in this state would get no one anywhere.

“I won’t regret this…”

Remus started. Sirius, meanwhile, noticed how shaky his friend was.

“Remus, you should sit…”

“Don’t tell me what to do!”

Remus yelled. Sirius raised an eyebrow. This was probably the angriest that he had ever seen Remus Lupin. The voice of reason was now the one that was ready to kick ass.

“Do you have to have every woman, Sirius? When are you going to start having an affair with someone else or have you already gotten bored with Y/n?”

“Stop it!”

Sirius snapped. Remus didn’t back down. Remus knew that he needed to calm down but he couldn't. His eyes went to his niece. The little girl had Sirius’ shirt clasped in one pudgy fist. Her grey eyes were watching her uncle’s every move.

“I’ve got to get out of here!”

Remus snapped as he turned and walked out of the opposite door with a huff. James took a deep breath.

“And there we have it.”

He turned his attention to Sirius who was looking gloomily at the place where Remus stood. James put a hand on Sirius’ shoulder.

“He’ll be alright. You know that he didn’t mean what he said.”

“Yeah, he did.”

Sirius replied. James absentmindedly scratched the back of his head.

“Just give him some time. Now let me hold the baby.”

Sirius gently put Demelza in James’ arms. James smiled looking down at her. He saw you and Remus in the little girl’s serious expression. She quickly looked back to her father as if keeping an eye on him.

“He isn’t going anywhere.”

James said, softly.

“What’s her name?”

“Demelza.”

You replied. Lily had stood up and joined her husband in admiring the little girl.

“That’s lovely. She is lovely.”

James let Lily have her turn with the little girl. He turned back to Sirius and yourself.

“Did you tell your parents?”

Sirius shook his head.

“They are the last people that I would tell anything.”

James nodded.

“Probably for the best. Come on, let's go get a drink.”

Sirius leaned down and kissed your cheek before following James out of the room.

Lily meanwhile, turned to you.

“Come sit down, love. You look exhausted.”

You sighed.

“I don’t sleep much. Sirius and I were both worried about how Remus was going to take it...I knew that it was going to be a disaster.”

Lily used her free hand to hold yours.

“Y/n, he was probably shocked. I was. Let him calm down. This is Remus that we are talking about. We all know how much he loves you.”

Lily was silent for a moment before looking back to you.

“Why didn’t you write James and I? We would have been there with you two the whole way.”

You looked down at your feet feeling suddenly depressed.

“We were afraid that you two would tell Remus. Sirius and I didn’t know who to tell him...it all kind of went out of control. We were going to tell him before I got pregnant. When I found out, we both panicked...to say the least.”

Lily understood. She wasn’t upset with either of you.

“I just hate the thought of you giving birth in a hospital without any support. How did Sirius handle it?”

Lily was relieved when you giggled.

“He panicked a few times. I almost had to tell him to sit down and shut up.”

Lily shook her head with a smile.

“I would have liked to have seen that. Should you two have any more children...I want to witness it.”

“You will be the first to know...should that happen. I think one is enough for now.”

Lily smiled down at the baby girl on her lap. Demelza was happily playing with the bracelet on Lily’s wrist.

“She has the Black family good looks but I see you in there. She has your dainty features. I can’t wait for Harry to wake up so he can meet her.”

The two of you immediately looked up at each other.

“So do we make bets on who will be the bigger trouble makers? James and Sirius or Demelza and Harry.”

You took a breath. James and Sirius’ wild behavior was no secret to Lily or yourself. You had witnessed a lot of their shenanigans while in school. Now you had to wonder if Demelza would be giving her father a run for his money?

“I guess time will tell on that one. Lily, I know that Sirius is going to talk to James about this so I’m going to talk to you about it. We want you two to be her godparents. If anything should happen…”

“WE WOULD LOVE TO!”

Lily squealed.

“I want Remus to be involved too but I don’t think he would be up to raising a baby...right now that is. I can only hope that he wants something to do with her.”

Demelza had snuggled herself against Lily’s chest and yawned. Lily stroked her finger down the baby’s cheek.

“How could he not want to? Look at this sweet little face. He’s going to love her. Don’t even worry about that.”

As Lily gently rocked Demelza to sleep, you sat pondering her words. You could only hope that your friend was right. Maybe you could talk to Remus once he returned from wherever he went. Hopefully this time he will listen….

____

@brokencasbutt67-writer

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@wontlookaway

@summer-novak

@shaylybaby2032

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@mycuddlycorner

[momentsuspended-intime]

Finding light in the darkness.

*Trigger warning* This post mentions suicide, overdosing, crisis team, alcohol, drug abuse, and other scenarios people may find triggering or offensive. Please proceed with caution.

Don’t be afraid of change, it is leading you to a new beginning. The pain you feel today will be the strength you feel tomorrow. Every day is a new beginning. Take a deep breath and start again.

Sitting in my living room, empty boxes of codeine surrounding me, this is it I thought, all the pain was going to end. Finally.

I texted my ex, I messaged my friends, all saying goodbye and how sorry I was for causing so much turmoil. I felt broken and defeated, I just wanted it all to stop. My head was racing, I just wanted all these thoughts to stop going round and round my head, was a little peace too much to ask for? Suddenly my Mum entered the room her face was pale. “What have you done?!” she cried, tears streaming down her face. All I could do was look at her and apologise, I had a momentary lapse where I hadn’t considered my next steps. One of my friends had messaged my Mum in a panic; my ex was on the phone, I could hear him crying but I just felt numb.

My Dad then raced into the room “Why would you do this, Victoria?” “Not my baby, please no” Those words will haunt me for the rest of my life. I can count on one hand how many times I’ve seen my Dad cry, but this was different. In that moment I thought “had I made a mistake?” but I still felt numb. Maybe it was the 60 codeine tablets I took or the adrenaline pumping through my body but all I felt was nothing. It had been like that for weeks now. This empty feeling inside me, like a black hole, sucking out every little piece of love and emotions I had. I didn’t realise it at the time but I was suffering with Borderline Personality Disorder, but I’ll get to that later.

Suddenly I was in the back of an ambulance, ECG hooked up to my body, and I’d spend hours in the hospital, being seen by different Doctors and Mental Health Nurses. My parents were pushing to having me committed. The hospital didn’t do anything; they sent me home and in less than 24 hours I’d be back in the hospital after a second failed attempt at taking my own life. 120 codeine tablets in total over 24 hours. Thank god I’m alive writing this now. I’m not a religious person but I must have someone looking down on me, keeping me safe.

You might be wondering how I got to this point, you see I’ve always known something wasn’t quite right, I could never put my finger on it but I never felt ‘normal’. Whatever normal is anyway. My head had always been a chaotic place for as long as I can remember, I always felt things so intensely, but that was normal right? I never knew any better. I would say goodbye to my ex after a lovely weekend together (he was in the RAF so I only got to see him on weekends) and I would have been crying hysterically, like he was being deployed for 6 months but in reality I’d be seeing him again in 5 days time. Minutes later in my car with music blaring I’d be singing and dancing along to the radio, like the previous few moments never happened. Something that would annoy the average person would make me fly into a fit of rage; my family described it as like walking on eggshells when they were around me. Too scared to say certain things out of fear of how I would react.

Anyway I’m digressing here, but the point is I always knew something wasn’t right with me. So what happened to make me feel so low? I had a week from hell. I’d been fired from my job by e-mail, basically told not to come in the following Monday. I was heartbroken, I was a photographer for a Cigar and Whiskey company, and I’d studied Photography at University. I could do that job in my sleep but that e-mail hit me like a tone of bricks. Later that week I would find out that my Nan had stage 5 terminal kidney disease and a couple days later my boyfriend of 3 and a half years would break my heart. It was traumatic, we’d spent 4 lovely days together and on the Sunday he woke up, looked at me and ended it. Just like that. I still remember the stabbing sensation in my stomach when I instantly knew something was wrong. An hour later I was driving 4 hours back from Buckinghamshire, crying my eyes out, reality had not yet set in and I couldn’t believe this was really happening. I still remember hearing Lizzo on the radio “If he don’t love you anymore, just walk yo’ fine ass out the door”. How ironic.

The day after my stint in the hospital I find myself sat in a room at the Crisis Centre on Northgate Street, waiting to be seen by a Psychiatrist and Mental Health Nurse to discuss what needs to be done. I’m angry, exhausted, confused and want anything but help. One of the Mental Health Nurses looks at me and says, “If you’re going to kill yourself, you’re going to do it anyway”. That was it, I went super saiyan, how dare he say that to me! These people are supposed to be here to help me, I know I didn’t want help at that point but how could someone in authority whose profession it is to support and care for those in a crisis say something so repulsive? That would be one of many unsavoury experiences I’d have with the Mental Health services.

After finally speaking to the manager (I promise I’m not a Karen), we all agreed that at home treatment would be best for my situation and me. Over the next few weeks I would be seen by the Crisis team every day. Every damn day I would have to explain in intricate detail what had happened and how we got to this point. You see with the Crisis team you don’t see the same person every day, they’re all on shifts, so each visit I would meet someone new and be expected to open up to a complete stranger about how I was feeling. When in a crisis a person needs consistency, the chance to build a rapport with someone and to feel like they’re being listened to. Not judged for being in the position I found myself in.

After many visits with a Psychiatrist and members of the Crisis team they came to a conclusion, I didn’t realise just how life changing this revelation would be. I had Borderline Personality Disorder. Suddenly everything fell into place; intense and unstable emotions? Check. Feeling empty and angry? Check. Impulsivity? Check. In total there’s 9 different symptoms for BPD (I’ll cover this in a future post), and I had all 9.

If you’re wondering what Borderline Personality Disorder is exactly then let me give you a brief outline, of course this is one of the most misunderstood and often stigmatised mental health issue a person can have. In simple terms BPD is a condition that affects how you think, feel and interact with other people. People with BPD experience a pervasive pattern of instability, both in the way they view themselves and with interpersonal relationships.

BPD isn’t a fad, it isn’t quirky, it can be soul destroying and it almost cost me my life. Experiencing a break up, losing a job and finding out a loved one is ill was just too much. Just one of those things can cause someone with BPD to lose control, they say things come in threes and for me it was true. To a ‘normal’ person a break up is hard, unless you’re lucky enough to part ways as friends, for me it felt like someone had died. That might sound dramatic but it was true, I didn’t realise but my ex was my FP (favourite person). People with BPD often have a FP, someone they rely on and put on a pedestal, and this person can do no wrong. My problem is my FP broke my heart.

Now don’t get me wrong I know it takes two to tango, I wasn’t a saint but in my defence I didn’t realise I was ill. I was moody, never wanted to spend time with his family, argued over every little thing and I wanted him all to myself. I didn’t realise it at the time but I was obsessed.

I spent the next two weeks at a friend’s house, drinking and getting high. My head was a mess, thoughts racing; I just wanted a moment of calm. I thought I was making myself feel better, trying to forget all the chaos going on in my life but I was just making everything worse. I wasn’t facing these problems head on, I was masking them and I didn’t realise it but things were about to erupt.

During this time I was a train wreck, I was drinking at every moment I could. Taking the dog out so I could nip to the shops and down a bottle or two of Lambrini in the park (how classy, right?). My problem was during this time drinking would make me disassociate; I’d become violent and angry. At one point I found myself in the back of a police van, but I’m not ready to talk about that yet.

I had reached rock bottom, my family stood by me, and god knows why- I gave them every opportunity to disown me and kick me out of the house but they never did and for that I am eternally grateful. I knew something had to change, I HAD to change. I couldn’t keep going on living like this, surly there’s more to life than this?

I decided I would quit drinking and get my life back on track. I knew it wouldn’t be easy, but anything worth having in life isn’t. I decided to try and raise money for NSFT (Norfolk and Suffolk Foundation Trust), at this point I had been discharged by the Crisis team and I was now in the hands of NSFT. This is when I met Allison, my Mental Health Nurse and things finally started to change for the better.

I started cycling 30 miles every day, I reached over 500 miles but due to health reasons I had stop. It’s my aim to re-start my little goal and hopefully add to the £250 I’ve raised so far. I started engaging with NSFT; I had weekly meetings with my MH Nurse, Allison and went to Recovery College, learning ways to cope with my diagnosis and my recovery.

During this time I started feeling better, I was given a cocktail of medications such as antipsychotics and anti-depressants and slowly the real me was starting to come out.

2 years on I feel like a completely different person. I’ve rebuilt my relationship with my family; I’m one year sober and living in a beautiful new house. Treatment, medication and personal growth have changed me. Just yesterday my Sister was saying she could finally see the real me, the one that had always been there but just needed some nurturing (and treatment) to help shine through.

I’ve made many mistakes in life, I’m sure you’ll hear more about these in future posts but I decided I wanted to give back and use my experiences to help other people. You see I’ve always felt lost, like I never knew who I was as a person or what I wanted to do in life but I’ve finally found my calling. Last November I enrolled on a course and now I’m studying to become a Mental Health Nurse myself.

During my recovery I found that talking to someone who has lived experience of mental health issues utterly valuable. They understand you in a way no one else does, you have this shared connection. So I decided I wanted to take my lived experience, mistakes I’ve made, everything I’ve learnt over the past two years and try to help someone else that’s going through a Crisis.

I started volunteering at a Mental Health Charity called Together, working with the service users to offer them some support and it gave me a real taste of how it would be to work as a Mental Health Nurse and help someone who really needed it. Unfortunately lockdown hit and I had to stop volunteering.

I’m still working on my online course and hopefully by the end of the year I’ll be a Peer Support Worker and from there I’ll be able to join a course to specialise in Mental Health Nursing. For the first time in my life I have a plan.

What happened to that angry girl, who was moody all the time and argued over every little thing? I can say proudly that she no longer exists. Now I’m confident, happy and feel motivated to get as much out of life as possible. I’ve even started dating again! I’ll occasionally feel my mood flip quite quickly but I’m better at managing it now. Like any other illness you learn to live with it, this time though I’m not letting my diagnosis define me.

My relationship with my family has never been better, of course it’s not easy to forgive and there’s some things you can’t forget but my family have never held the things I’ve done against me. The past two years have been really tough but I’ve learnt a lot about myself as a person and the type of person I want to be. It hasn’t been easy writing this blog post, I wanted to give an honest and raw account of what it’s like to experience the darkest point of your life and what it’s like to rebuild from the ground up.

If you’re experiencing a hard time just know my inbox is always open, you’re not in this alone and I promise you things will get better.

Until next time.

Victoria Jane x

[gloves94]

To Be So Lonely [Draco Malfoy] 2

Rating: PG-13 Pairings: Draco Malfoy/OC Chapter warnings: Abuse!

Raised as an orphan, Nel Saintday, endured years of torture from the Slytherin House. The Dark Lord only allowed her existence for her to serve a very specific vile purpose for him. Her birthright dictates for her to choose a side in the Wizarding War… But what would happen if she dares defy the Dark Lord and his wishes? And what happens when she falls for her tormentor? Will Nel fulfill her life’s purpose? And what side will her tormentor, Draco Malfoy, choose? The light that calls to him or the darkness…

CHAPTER MASTERLIST MY MASTERLIST

1 9 9 1

"Oi! You said you'd give me five quid for it!" A young girl accused with a stern expression at an older boy. "A quid per pound."

This had not been a fair deal.

The boy wore a smug expression on his fox like face. On one hand he weighted a fat paper bag filled with Dairy Milk chocolate bars and Maltesers amongst other chocolatey goods. The rest of his squad, all just as tall and hulking  snickered as they greedily ate the candy.

"I said five quid per pound of quality candy, this is all rubbish. Besides, I hate chocolate! You get squat Dots." He laughed loudly before chewing on a mouthful of chocolate bars.

"But you're still eating it!" She pointed upset.

The group laughed cruelly.

"You better give me my money Nico!" She threatened both fists clenched at her side, eyebrows furrowed into a scowl.

"Or what?" He huffed towering over the eleven-year-old poking her chest. "What are you going to do about it?" He challenged pushing her. "Go and cry to Ms. Wool about it?" He pushed her to the ground, and she fell back to the pavement on her behind glaring at the bullies. She should've really thought this out more thoroughly.

"Just you wait-" She growled out rolling up her sleeves, looking as menacing as she could.

It was then that a startled look crossed Nico's face. He turned white. "Let's get out of here!" His friend slapped the other on the chest and looking terrified as the three scrambled away quickly even dropping the bag of candy on the alley way.

"Ha!" She bounced to her feet triumphantly.

Yeah! That'll show them!

It was then that she felt a strong grip seize her shoulder.

Uh-Oh

Her legs moved but she felt an object come down hard on her shoulder. She spat a curse and looked over her shoulder to see Mr. Cowell, the owner of the General Store she had just stolen candy from, and the bitter old man did not look pleased. His black cane buried on her arm.

"Oh! You're going nowhere this time you scantly thief!" He pulled her to him and grabbed her shoulder with his hand.

Head sunken low, he walked her back to where she came from. All the way grumbling and muttering insults and curses.

"Should've known you were up to no good, same as always," he muttered more to himself before ringing the doorbell of the old building.

Ms. Wool opened the door. A plump woman with a pig's face that always seemed to be wearing the dreaded color pink. A cloud of gagging  perfume usually wafted around the middle-aged woman. Her face immediately morphed into a deep scowl that made her fat bottom lip stick out.

"Can't let you out of my sight, can I?" She glowered at the girl.

"Caught her with her sticky fingers looting my candy jars this time," the upset man pushed her forward making her stumble towards the entrance of the orphanage.

"Oh Phil," Ms. Wool shook her head slightly before digging into a coin purse. "What's the damage this time?"

"'S just candy Cordelia," The old man said gruffly leaning on his cane dismissing her offer. "'Ust make sure this one 'ere stays out of my store!" He pointed his cane at the girl's chest making her inch back.

Ms. Wool's sharp hands sank into her shoulders as she apologized to the store owner and brought the girl inside of the orphanage. Nel didn't feel her stomach sink until the door closed.

"Can't let you out of my sight, can I? You little thieving tyke!" Ms. Wood's polished hand reached for the girl's ear and she angrily pulled on it as she dragged her away into her hellish office. Other children that lived in the home laughed and pointed as they saw the much familiar scene unfold before them. Ms. Wool's office was a damp place, colored in warm pastel shades and drying flowers with floors and ceilings from the 1910's the time when Wool's Orphanage had originally been built.

"I'm not scared of you!" She declared stupidly. "Oh, you should be! You stupid girl!" Wool scolded. "I've had it up to here with you!" She crossed an arm over her forehead. "I've tried being nice, I've tried being patient. Seems like this is the only way you'll understand." She said opening a door next to her office and tossing her in. "In the Chokey you go!"

The door slammed on her nose.

The Chokey was a narrow cupboard that was filled with broken glass sticking out of the walls with nails on the door. It was a place of utter terror that the mere threat of it was enough to make children tremble in fright and fall straight into line. The cupboard was so narrow you couldn't sit or squat in it without being hurt. Sometimes kids were kept here for hours. Nel presently had the record for the longest lock in having been kept in for a whole day. Something she was awfully proud of and she felt gave her some pomp and superiority over the other children in the home.

"Let me out of here you wretched witch!" She shouted at the door bending her hand on a glass free spot on the door.

"You will stay in there until you finally learn your lesson! Even if its tomorrow!"

She heard a door slam signaling that Wool had exited her office.

Nel stood in the dark room. Eyes peeled; angry fists clenched at the sides. All she had wanted to do was to make some money to buy some art supplies for her own. After all she was an orphan, not possessing a single penny to her name. It wasn't fair. No matter how hard she tried to hold on to any material possession - every time she got something, anything nice be it a candy bar, socks or a sweater, the gift was usually always picked away by the older, stronger kids in the home. Sometimes she wondered what her life would've been like if she hadn't been dumped in this doldrum.

Nel stayed locked up for hours. Her bored eyes attempted to find shapes in the darkness through a strained vision. Scratching a nail against the door's paint she attempted to carve her name into it as she carefully calculated and planned her next scheme to make money. Perhaps she could scam some local kids into buying pet rocks or swindle them into some equally ridiculous scam. She made a mental note to next time make Nico and his goons pay her before engaging in business with him.

That was until the door opened. The light momentarily blinded her.

"There you are!" A younger voice spoke and the eleven-year-old was brought into a warm embrace. "Are you okay? If you know that Nico Shaffer and his gang are going to do you dirty why do you keep hanging out with them?" Lucy, Nel's absolutely favorite person in the world, said holding on to her arms with care.

Lucy was only a couple of years older than Nel. The young girl couldn't remember a time in which anybody else that had ever cared for her. Certainly not Ms. Wool. The girl was more of an older sister than just a fellow housemate.

"I have to show 'em who's the boss around here," Nel said with a huff before sticking her hand into her pocket and handing her friend some candy. "I got you some Whoopers," she grinned handing over her friend the candy.

"Sometimes I think you enjoy setting off Ms. Wool," Lucy shook her head and regardless took the candy and pocketed with a smile.

"Only sometimes," the girl smiled cheekily.

The two girls made out of the office quickly hand in hand.

"Stealing is wrong Nel. Don't do it again." the older one scolded to deaf ears that would most definitely do it again. "What did you even want that money for?"

"I wanted to buy some paint. You know? So that I could paint my walls."

"Your walls or Wool's walls?" the Lucy rolled her eyes knowing that the young girl would probably paint a splash or horrendous colors in the cafeteria which would mortify matron. "You know Ms. Wool would most definitely not allow that."

The younger one smirked slightly having been caught in her mischievous plan to bring some life into the dull building. "We practically live in a jail Luce, it's not fair. Maybe just- maybe some color would make everybody's day better? It was for the greater good!"

"Hey Nel! Heard you stole some candy from old man Cowell!" A younger boy called from the corridor. Enjoying the attention, the girl turned and threw a candy at him "You bet!"

"Stop it! You're going to get in more trouble," Lucy slapped her hand as they  reached the small room were the young girl was kept to herself. Nel didn't care. That boy owed her now. She'd think of what favor she'd bug him with later. Maybe she'd ask him for his bread if she was ever locked up without dinner again.

Her room had once been the laundry room and broom and storage, but a bed had been added for the girl to sleep in. She slept there alone, mainly for the safety of others… You see, weirdthings tended to happen around the girl -

"Ms. Wool!" A loud sing song voice called. "Nel still has some candy and is keeping it to herself!" A most pesky snitch alarmed loudly.

Both girls turned to glare at Aisha by far Wool's favorite and a total kiss ass. Always wearing pink in an attempt to please their matron.

"Shut your mouth Aisha or I'll shut it for you!" The other shouted angrily from across the corridor.

It was then that Wool came stomping by from around the corner.

"SAINTDAY!" She bellowed her surname angrily. Her eyes scanned the corridor for the young girl before focusing on her. "Ah, there you are!" Her eyes turned into slits.

Aisha smirked looking pleased with herself.

Nel shrunk a little, hiding behind Lucy. She was bracing herself for the scold that would come from exiting the chokey when she saw that a tall man with a long white beard and peculiar lavender robes was trailing behind the wide matron.

Ms. Wool sank her hand into Nel's lower arm and dragged the girl inside of the small room, the man tailing behind entered as well. Lucy was locked out; she hung her shoulders lingering around ready to press her ear against the door. What a most peculiar looking man…  She thought to herself.

Wool knowingly stuck her head out before Lucy pressed her ear against the door and barked at her to get lost which sent the fourteen-year-old skulking away.

Back inside Wool turned her attention to the brunette. "What have you done now you wicked child?" She glared hands on hips demanding an answer.

"I did nothing, swear!" She said innocently raising up her hands looking at the older man with the half-moon glasses with an innocent expression.

Albus Dumbledore looked at the expression on the child's face that was sitting in the small bed. Despite the pout on her face there was an air of mischief that made him aware that he should know better when trusting her. It had been decades since the last time he had been to Wool's Orphanage. The last time had been under similar circumstances instead visiting a student with the last name Riddle.

"You will apologize to the man and tell me what you did!" Wool knelt and pinched the tender part of the girl's arm making her painfully hiss at the sensation.

"That is enough Ms. Wool," Dumbledore said sternly glaring at the Muggle woman.

"I am here on official school business," the man with the twinkling eyes said stroking his beard. "My name is Albus Dumbledore, I am the Headmaster at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardly and I have come to personally deliver Ms. Saintday her letter of acceptance."

"School of wizzah which what?" Wool cocked her head at an angle and narrowed her eyes in mistrust.

She took the letter from the man eyeing the parchment sealed with an official wax stamp with wary eyes. Nel never received any mail. As far as she knew there was nobody outside of the orphanage that would write to her.

Miss E. Saintday, Laundry Room, Wool's Orphanage, London.

Blinking twice she ripped the envelope open. Curiously reading the contents of the green letter head.

HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY Underneath was the Headmasters name. Followed by an acceptance, instructions for admission and a list of texts and materials that would be required by the school. The letter was signed by the Deputy Headmistress, Minerva McGonagall, in a curvy signature.

Nel hadn't even bothered to listen to what Wool was bickering about with the Headmaster.

"Is this real?" She asked the man with her eyes growing wide. "This is not a joke is it?"

"As real as you and I Ms. Saintday," The man smiled down at her kindly.

The man who had introduced himself as Albus Dumbledore explained that there was another world which was unknown to, to regular or non-magic people that were called Muggles and the Nel was a witch. A powerful being capable of magical powers. He explained this was all extremely secretive and that nobody must or should know. He explained that Hogwarts was a most prestigious school and the Wizarding School of the UK were most witches and wizards attended for seven years to earn their education.

"You don't want this one I'm telling you!" Wool suddenly laughed loudly. "She's brought me nothing but trouble since the day she was left in my doorstep!" Nel ignored her with a glare. "Set my curtains on fire, once somehow made a student magically appear on the roof, made my teapots sing! Summoned snakes out of cookie jars! Lightbulbs explode around her! All sorts of devilish things! I know she bullies the other kids. I don't know how she does it, I just haven't caught her yet. And school-" She laughed woefully. "Not a single knot or bolt in this one's empty head."  She knocked on the back of her head, which made the girl rub the sore spot. She turned to look at the Headmaster with fearful eyes. Would he withdraw his invitation now that he knew this?

"I believe I myself once set fire to my dorm's curtains. An atrocious shade of red. Accidentally of course," he smiled once again which brought some comfort to the orphan.

"Forget about it!" Wool exclaimed getting ready to exit the room. "I'm not going to fork a single penny over so that this one can go to a fancy boarding school to learn how to pull rabbits out of a hat!"

"I assure you that money will not be a problem Ms. Wool. There is a special fund set aside to assist students with financial needs. Of course, Ms. Saintday will have to maintain an outstanding average to maintain this scholarship."

"Ha! That's a lost cause," Wool huffed humorlessly.

She was ignored. The older Wizard stood up and met the girls' dark brown eyes. Eyes that to him seemed distantly familiar.

"So, what do you say Elowen? although I believe you go by Nel," he inquired.

"What do I say?" She repeated. If anybody had asked her what she really thought, she would've said this entire thing was a hoax. Maybe this funny looking man was actually a child napper, but anywhere was better than Wool's. However, he did not seem harmful, not like the type of man to be vile or malicious. "Of course!" She jumped to her feet. Worst case scenario Wool had always warned her that if she was ever kidnapped that the kidnappers would have to pay her a ransom to take her back.

"Very well then," Dumbledore bowed slightly at Wool. It was then that he pulled out a wand from inside of his long shimmering sleeves. He turned to her little belongings and flicked his wand opening a suite case and made all of the clothes, shoes and other little objects leapt in, in a neatly folded manner.

Nel's mouth gaped a jar at the magic in fascination. Wool looked terrified.

"It's real!" She exclaimed with disbelief.

"I'll be waiting for you at the entrance Ms. Saintday, so that you may bid your goodbyes and gather other belongings," he said as he headed towards the exit. "Wait!" Nel stopped him tugging on the back of his robe. "Can my friend Lucy come with us to? She's brilliant, much better student than I am!" She pleaded.

The man stopped and looked back at her kindly with his twinkling eyes.

"Nel," he began. "I'm afraid that Hogwarts is real for us, but it is not real for Ms. Bonilla," he began to explain. Somehow already knowing Lucy's last name. "Ms. Bonilla is a Muggle, and only witches and wizards can attend or see the school."

"But-" She pleaded. "Can you make an exception? She'll work hard I promise!"

Dumbledore placed a hand on the girl's head. "I'm afraid not child," he rested his hand there for a moment before vanishing into thin air.

Nel looked at the ground sadly. What would she do? She couldn't leave Lucy behind like that.

"Don't look so sullen," Wool's voice suddenly made her snap out of her thoughts. "You'll be back soon. I give it a day before that man is back begging me to take you back from who knows where," she said sticking her nose up in the air. "Very well then, say your goodbyes, Ta-ta." She clapped her hands and pushed her out of the room.

She looked at the austere corridors and the dirty floors recording them all into her memory. She would've really loved to splash them with some bold greens and yellows just to bring some life to this decadent place. Ms. Wool passed her in the hallway.

"Clown's come to take you back to the circus?" A voice called from one end of the corridor making her head snap in the direction. "'About time Freak Show," It was Aisha and Alf, two other members of the house who frequently taunted Nel.

"At least I'm getting out of here unlike the likes of you!" She shot back.

"At least we weren't abandoned here. Even your own parents didn't want your wart-face," Aisha laughed cruelly.

Nel stayed silent. That one hurt. The fact that she was an unwanted child hurt her more than she would ever let on. After all most kids living at Wool's belonged to parents that had lost custody of them, had been deported or had even passed away. Nel had been one of the few that had willingly been surrendered at an abbey's doorstep without a single hint or clue of who she was.

The day she was found they sought for records of her or the people who could be her parents yet found none. She was named by a Cornish nun and given the surname Saintday having been symbolically found on November 1st, All Saints Day.

"Yeah, nobody's going to miss your ugly spotted face 'round here," Aisha stuck out her tongue making a reference to the dotted beauty marks that marked the girl's face; which was considerably her most striking feature. She had managed to count at least ten of them. The marks were scattered in the figure of something, but she didn't know exactly what it was.

Angry she rolled up the sleeves of her black jumper.

"Want a souvenir so you don't miss me too much?" She threatened with a raised fist.

She was about to walk forward and put the bullies in her place when two hands reached and turned her around.

"Is it true?" It was Lucy kneeling down to her level to meet her eye. "That you're leaving?" Her dark eyes were wide with concern.

Nel looked down, almost in shame avoiding Lucy's eyes. "I know it's sudden, but I've been accepted to a school in Scotland. That funny looking man, he's come to take me," she wanted to tell Lucy she was a witch. Wanted to explain what it meant, but the vow of secrecy kept her from doing it. "But- I'm not sure if I want to go," she said feeling a sudden emptiness inside her. "You won't be there-"

"Nonsense!" She exclaimed. "You're going."

"I asked if you could come but he said no!"

"Doesn't matter," Lucy smiled at her encouragingly. "Just promise you'll call. Yeah?"

With her eyes brimming with rare tears Nel nodded and hugged her tightly. "Go," Lucy ushered her off. "Make the best of it, learn and most importantly be good Elowen Saintday."

The girls beamed at each other. "I'll see you during the holidays!" The younger one cried.  She didn't know what she would do without Lucy.

"Oh," Ms. Wool crowed looking down at the troublemaker. "You'll be back," she added smugly. It seemed like the woman was getting ready to enjoy the peace and quiet that would come. For now, Elowen Saintday would be somebody else's problem.

xxxxx

STARRING THE ORIGINAL CAST OF THE HARRY POTTER SERIES with ADAM DRIVER as SEVERUS SNAPE

Xxxxx

AN: Any "To Protect" fans out there? Shoutout to you!

[comablog2]

Add a twink to the mix

Generated prompt: Eddie confesses to Buck that they have always been curious about what it would be like to have a threesome, so Buck , whether or not they have reservations (it's up to you), approaches a third party with the idea (C’s reaction is, again, up to you).

Tagging: @felicitous-one @buckleystrand @cherishingstydia @chrrlees @tkandbuck @justsmilestuffhappens @black-forest-girl @haderofthesociety @lilywoood @translucent-bisexual @transbuckley @livlyf247 @multi-fandom-writing @levithestripper @fyeahhipsterboys @impossiblealice @seaofashes

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Eddie was never not satisfied with Buck in his life. When he says this man makes him feel good mentally and physically, he means it. And he also makes him feel good sexually.

Buck completes him, and is his perfect other half.

But some part of him, maybe the part of him who had wanted that good old experimentation, wanted to try something new. Something that, while they mentioned in passing, had never actually talked about in detail.

Threesomes.

It was something that had been on his mind lately, especially with the new Probie in the station. The idea of him sandwiched between Buck and Eddie. The idea of discovering a brand new body in the safety of a consensual and relaxed environment. Buck has never seemed to be close minded. He enjoys talking about things in the relationship, especially if it'll be fun and good for the two of them.

So with that, Eddie finally decides to sit him down and decides it's time to talk.

"So.. I was thinking about something lately and I don't want you to get mad. I just want to talk about it." Eddie says quietly, looking up at Buck who just smiles and rubs his knee encouragingly. "How do you feel about the idea of having a threesome?" He rushes out, biting his lip a moment, then looking up at him with buzzing nerves.

Buck blinks a few times, then he gives a small chuckle.

"'It's not cause I'm not happy with you. You make me so, so happy. But.. I wanna try that.. you know?" He says quietly. He feels almost stupid. Nearly 30 years old and he wants to "try it out?"

"Hey, no I understand. I would be lying if I said I hadn't thought of it. " Buck says with a chuckle. Eddie shrugs and smiles at him and Buck bites his lip. "Probie huh?"

Eddie flushes scarlet, but he nodded quickly.

"I don't know. The idea of having someone new between us.. I want to try that. And probie is just.." Eddie gives a little growl that makes Buck grin.

"He's definitely new. But you do know we need to talk to him about that right? And we know that Max is trans, so he's built different, and that might make him feel a litte awkward." Buck says, leaning back in his chair. He looks up from the table to Eddie's eyes. "But we'll take our time. If it's something you want to try or do, we will try to make that happen."

"You want it too, right? I don't want this without you." Eddie says firmly. Buck pulls him into a kiss as he stands up and strokes Eddie's back gently

"I definitely want this. Now let's get some dinner to eat. I'm hungry." Eddie nodded happily and kisses back.

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Eddie looks over the railing to where Max and Buck were detailing the truck together. He can't help but chuckle slightly at the height difference between them. Buck is 6'2, and he's 6 even. Max is only 5'6 and he looks pretty short out of all the crew, accept Chimney who was similar height, if a bit taller. But Max easily holds his own, one of the determined kinds that is a strong, fast and effective worker. He fit right in with the crew here.

Max grins up at him when he notices him staring, waving and Buck looks up over Max with a small smirk and nod.

"Hey, Eddie and I are going out for a drink after work, and we wanted to know if you'd like to join?" Buck asks, and closes the hatch to the medical supply. Max perks and grins a bit.

"Hell yeah. That sounds fun." He went to say something else, but the alarm blares and they dash into action. Eddie now is dying for the end of their shift to come. The rest of the day was going to drag by, Eddie knew, but he could go hang out with Buck and Max at the end of the day. It would be worth the shift.

The last few hours slowly ticked by, but once it was over, Max was changing out in the locker room. Max was pulling on his tank top when Buck and Eddie saw the two top surgery scars on his chest. Max meets their eyes and hastily pulls the shirt down and grabbing his large sweater.

"You don't need to hide those. It's nothing to be ashamed of." Buck says, gesturing to the leg from the fire truck incident. "We all have scars." Max grins slightly and shrugs softly, pulling on a sweater.

"I'm still not used to them. It happened like almost 9 months ago but it's kinda surreal. Like.. from age nine I had boobs. Now... no boobs." He shakes his head and ties his hair off his face.

"Nine??" Eddie asks in disbelief. Max pulls a face.

"Early bloomer. Ridiculously early. It was hell." He says, gesturing to his hips. "You know what it's like having giant hips and thighs in 5th grade?? Its hell." Buck chuckles in surprise and covers his mouth with a sheepish look. "You can laugh that shit was funny."

Max drives behind Eddie's truck to head to the couple's favorite bar, the LA traffic being so slow it gave Eddie and Buck the chance to talk about how to approach it.

"We need to be casual. I mean, that's what this is. It's a casual hook up proposal. We'll have a little something to drink and ask Max what he thinks of threesomes. If its positive we'll figure it out." Buck says with a reassuring smile. Eddie nodded, smiling when Buck leans over to kiss his cheek. Max parked beside their truck, climbing out and adjusting his sweater sleeves. He was a little nervous, and he can't help but stare at the two men climbing out of Eddie's truck. Golden hour did them justice, and so did the tight jeans and very well fitting shirts. He doesn't like feeling intimidated, but he knows that these two are friends, coworkers, and there wasn't any reason to feel so anxious.

But he's still anxious nonetheless.

"Let's get inside. We need a wind down drink." Buck encourages, always the crowd motivator. Max nodded, a little tension falling away from his shoulders. A little drinking would be nice, something to take the edge off. They head inside, thankful that it's not super crowded, but the evening rush would pour in soon enough.

"Do you have a preferred drink?" Buck asks, bumping against Max as they head to a tall table top. Max shrugs absentmindedly.

"What do you guys get?" He asks, settling onto a bar stool.

"Just a beer or two normally." Eddie says, sitting beside him. Max pulls a face and sticks out his tongue.

"God y'all are gross." Max says, still shaking his head. "I know they have blue raspberry wine coolers." He says excitedly. Eddie chuckles and elbows him teasingly. "You can think what you want but at least I dont enjoy drinking overpriced dog piss." Max retorts with a raised eyebrow and a grin. Buck snorts a quiet laugh and goes up to the bar to order, declining Max's offer to pay.

Eddie liked the snark and fierceness that Max carries. Not even in a mean way, he was just expressive. Him and Buck had bursting personalities in common.

It doesn't take long for Buck to come back with three bottles and three shots.

"Shots?" Eddie asks, taking one off the tray.

"Hey it takes the edge off." Buck says with a huge grin. Max chuckles and grabs his.

"That's what the beer is for!" Eddie protests, although he wasn't exactly opposed.

"But it's a little extra." Max says, bumping shoulders. "Now, what are we cheering too. We gotta cheer to something." He says, grinning at Buck as he sits down.

"Cheers too... team work?" He suggests, and after a moment of laughing they cheers to team work and throw back their shots.

The conversation melted around them with ease, but Eddie still seems anxious. The idea of asking Max, who he wanted in more ways then one that question made him nervous but excited. Buck and Eddie made eye contact over their beers and nodded softly.

With the conversation full of boarder line flirting and sexual tension, Buck took his shot.

"What do you think of threesomes?" Buck tosses loosely, grinning softly. None of them were drunk, or even tipsy. But they were pretty relaxed and at ease. That made the conversation so much easier, and words flow easily.

"Never had one, but would totally have one." He looks between the two. "What about you two. You two are dating, so have you ever added a third before?" Max's tone went teasing, and he tried to force his ideas away. The idea that he could join and be the third, the idea of being touched by both of them, be in between them. Max shifted slightly in his seat and tries to keep away his blush.

"We're looking too." Eddie says bluntly. He puts an arm around Max and raises an eyebrow.

"Mmm.. So that wasn't just a question, and more of a suggestion?" Max knows the small amount of alcohol is making him feel bolder, but its not like he hasn't thought about this before. He shudders when Buck's hand glides to his inner thigh.

"It was definitely a suggestion." He growls quietly, hand squeezing his thigh. Max bites his lip and finishes his drink in one final swallow.

"I can drive and I'm ready to leave when you are?" Max says, looking between them and raising an eyebrow. Buck and Eddie share a quick look, and nod. All of them are then hopping off their bar stools and making their way to the exit. The bar was considerably more crowded, more rowdy, but outside the sun was set and the night are was cool. Eddie grabs Max by the hips and pulls him close with a smirk.

"Follow the truck." He says, voice gravely. Max nodded, feeling Bucks body press against his back. "See you soon."

Max fumbles with his keys to start his car, trying to calm his nerves and shifting his hips in his seat. He's way more excited then he expected.

He's able to drive, of course, but as he approaches Buck and Eddie's home, he anticipates what will happen once he's inside. Once he parks, he climbs out and locks the car, knowing he was a moment or two late. Eddie was standing there as Buck unlocks and opens the door. Eddie grins and takes Max's hand, pulling him inside.

The door shut behind them.

Max felt Bucks chest pressing against his back, his hands easily pulling the other into him. Eddie and Buck tower over Max, the heated kiss Eddie gave him taking all his breath. Eddie's hands were slipping under his sweater, under his tank top. With each touch, Max felt like his skin was being lit on fire, but in a delicious burning way.

"Let's get him upstairs, before you loose your mind." Buck says, tone teasing and deep. Max shudders, lips falling away from Eddie's with a click. Eddue leans up and nips Bucks mouth, their lips, teeth, tongue going after the other. Max rolls his hips against Eddie's thigh involuntarily at the sight, a small moan escaping him.

Bucks hand slips perfectly around Max's neck, pulling away from Eddie to kiss him as well.

"Upstairs." Max whispers against Buck's lips.

They stumble up, hands roaming, touching, grabbing, bodies tangling together as need filled each of them.

Max's legs hit the bed and he sits down, quickly pulling his legs up to sit on his knees. He grabs Eddie by his belt loops, pulling him close and beginning to one handedly undo his belt. Eddie yanks off his shirt, Buck settling behind Max and pulling off both shirts he was wearing.

"Fuck!" Max whispers, shuddering at the cold air hitting his skin. Buck places one hand on his stomach, the other on his neck and giving it a firm, but careful squeeze. Max finally, after months of dreaming, was experiencing the best moment of his life. He eases Eddie's pants down, but not his briefs. Not yet.

Eddie was Rick hard, leaking precum onto the cotton of his underwear. Max looks up at him with that look, sucking softly on the tip through his underwear.

Eddie's hands grip his hair hard, a guttural moan escaping him. Buck chuckles into Max's neck, biting and kissing the sensitive skin there. Max licks another strip along the clothes skin and smirks. Carefully he pulls off his briefs, lowering them down to his thighs and biting his lip at the sight.

"Fuck baby.." Max whispers, grinning up at Eddie. Buck chuckles and wraps a hand around Eddie's cock.

"He's so fucking good isnt he? But we don't want him to be the only one showing off, do we?" Buck asks. Max feels Buck shift back, and while Eddie fully shimmied out of his pants, Buck took off his shirt and pants.

"I didn't have bottom surgery." Max blurts when Eddie's hands start undoing his pant button. Eddie paused and looks up at him with a soft smile. He kisses Max softly and rubs his hips.

"That's okay. We're bi." Buck says, gripping his ass. Max shudders and nodded quickly. Eddie pulls off his pants and underwear, throwing the clothes somewhere over his shoulder. Max gets back on his knees facing Eddie and placing a kiss on the side of his cock. Buck settled right back behind him, hand slipping between his legs.

Max takes Eddie in his mouth, trying to clamp his thighs shut when Buck begin to tease him. Buck grabs his thigh and pulls them open. Eddie's fingers tangle in his hair again, pulling him close and Max takes him in willingly.

Soft moaning, whimpering filled the room, Buck perfectly content on watching Eddie take control of another person. Watching him being so dominant over another. Max, normally kind if stubborn, let them in without much protest. It made Buck feel warm, and once Eddie's hips begin to thrust frantically, Buck forces him to pull off.

"Dont want you to cum too early." Buck teases, carefully pumping two fingers in and out of Max. Without a distraction, Eddie's cock in his mouth, Max was focused solely on the feeling of Bucks fingers inside him.

He whimpers shakily, grabbing at Bucks wrist.

"Fuck.. Oh my God." He whispers, hips grinding down on the fingers inside him. Eddie grins and pulls Max to kiss him again. Eddie kisses him like he wants ri devour him. Teeth nibbling over his bottom lip, tongue fucking into his mouth. Eddie has his hand on his jaw, almost on his neck. When Eddie pulls away from the kiss, Max grabs his hand and moves it to his neck.

Buck chuckles at the sight, slowly adding a third finger. "You feeling okay?" Eddie asks, gently squeezing Max's neck. Max whimpers slightly at the stretch, squeezing Buck's wrist and his free hand still holding onto Eddie's arm.

"I'm okay." Max whispers, relaxing at the soft kisses from Buck on his shoulder. "I need more." Max whispers quietly, jerking when Bucks thumb strokes over the sensitive part of him. Buck grins and takes his fingers out, carefully rubbing over the sensitive nub, making Max arch into his hand. Eddie squeezes his neck, listening to Max moan shakily, Buck edging him close to an orgasm and taking his hand away.

"Fuck!" Max cries out, whining as he came down from the high he almost reached. Buck chuckles and turns Max around in his lap, back arched up facing Eddie. Max growls softly at Buck, who nips his neck and strokes a hand down his chest. Eddie slowly edges on the bed, lining up with his entrance, and carefully thrusting inside.

Max arches and gasps shakily, Bucks hand squeezing his neck firmly.

"Such a good boy.. Fuck your so good for us baby." Eddie growls firmly, thrusting a bit further inside. Max feels his brain melt into goo, body melting, thoughts fizzing out as he relaxes into the motions. Eddie was careful to have him adjust, Buck shifting back so Max could take him in his mouth.

Eddie didn't thrust roughly, just rolling his hips firmly and touching over his body, gripping his hips hard enough to make bruises, Max between them, taking what he's given, thighs trembling from each thrust. When Eddie's thrusts get harder, and his hand slips back between his legs, Max takes all of Buck into his mouth and loses it all.

Body trembling through his orgasm, Eddie thrusts only a few more times and pulls out in time. Buck tugs once on Max's hair as warning, before he releases inside his mouth. He's thighs shake softly and he arches a little bit, and moans in pleasure. Max takes it all, swallowing it all down and rocking into Eddie's hand.

The room is full of heavy breathing, everyone trying to keep touching the other person, sweaty and exhausted.

A calm settled over them, and Max carefully sits up with a small wince.

"Where are my clothes? I should probably get going." Max says, voice edging back into the awkward person they know too well.

"Hey.. no. Why don't we get a shower. Your staying here tonight." Eddie says lovingly. Max shifts, but an arm around his waist pulls him back into Buck's chest where he gets a soft kiss on the head and then his lips.

"You think we would want you gone?" Buck asks, hugging tighter.

"Well.. I don't know." He says softly.

"Wanna talk about what this will mean for us tomorrow?" Eddie asks lovingly, kissing Max softly. He nods and Buck picks him up to take him to the shower.

"I can walk ya known." Max protests.

"Not when we're here you can't."

[lady-divine-writes]

All the Beautiful Pieces (Rated NC17) Chapter 10

Blaine Anderson is spending the summer after graduation flipping houses with his brother for Cooper’s total home renovation show. The show features the worst houses Cooper can buy, with Blaine playing the role of lackey so that Cooper can torture him in front of his viewers. The last house Blaine has to renovate is an original Victorian House in San Diego, CA, which is in terrible condition. But this house turns out to be more than just another job. It was once owned by a famous Vaudeville ventriloquist by the name of Andrew Smythe. It houses a very interesting collection of items - among them, two life-sized puppets. Blaine isn’t sure exactly why, but he’s drawn to them - especially to the one with the beautiful blue eyes. He convinces Cooper to give him the puppets, and Blaine starts to restore them. In the course of the restoration, Blaine finds out that neither puppet is simply a run-of-the-mill puppet, and Andrew Smythe was hiding a secret that will be the key to saving two lives.

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7

Chapter 8 Chapter 9

Chapter 10 (7470 words)

A/N: Warning for a few dated homophobic slurs. I am determined to take the time during this quarantine to complete this re-write and finish the story. I hope that you join me on this little adventure. :)

Driving with Kurt turns into a major distraction for Blaine as the blue-eyed puppet stares up at the sky through the open window and sighs every five seconds.

“Oh, Blaine” - Kurt closes his eyes against the wind as the minivan breezes down the highway - “it’s nothing like I remember it.”

“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” Blaine asks, sneaking a peek at the puppet pulling his head in from the open window.

Kurt presses the button to close it, shutting it half way, then presses it again, lowering it an inch. He has developed a fascination with the buttons and switches that control things in the van – the door locks, the window switch, the seat adjuster. It had been adorable to watch Kurt spend the first five minutes of their trip swaying back and forth and up and down as he adjusted and re-adjusted his seat over and over.

“Both,” Kurt concludes after a pause. “I mean, I’m all for progress, and highways and tall buildings are a part of human civilization moving forward, but I don’t know …” He gazes out at the edge of the highway, where store after store and building after building blurs by. “There’s just something to be said about driving slowly down a dirt road and hearing the gravel underneath the tires, the birds flying overhead, seeing houses surrounded by green grass, cows grazing, and a chicken coop in the front yard, white picket fences, laundry hanging from a line …” Kurt sighs again, probably his hundredth sigh in the last half hour. But it’s peaceful, and Blaine knows he’ll never get tired of it. “I think I’m just an old-fashioned, silly romantic. The world has changed so much since I last saw it. I think I’m going to spend a lot of time playing catch up.”

Blaine wants to reassure Kurt that playing catch up in this new time period will be easy, but he bites his lip to stop himself. It won’t be easy for Kurt. Blaine knows it. And patronizing Kurt won’t change that. He comes up with something instead that he hopes will mean more to Kurt, give him something more substantial to hold on to.

“However long it takes,” he says, “I’ll be here to help you.”

Kurt’s glass eyes reflect the sunlight and blue sky overhead, making them look like they’re swimming with unshed tears. “Really?”

Blaine smiles. “I promise.”

As they turn onto Harbor Drive, Blaine’s eyes shift periodically to Kurt’s face, trying to gauge his reaction to returning to the house where he had been trapped for so long. But as they approach the old Victorian, Kurt settles back against the headrest and closes his eyes.

Blaine doesn’t ask. He understands.

Kurt isn’t ready to see it.

Gary’s U-Haul is parked by the curb out front. Standing beside it are Gary and two other men he brought with him to help. The first guy, Ted, Blaine knows. He’s a few years older than Blaine and studying occupational therapy at San Diego State University. Ted met Gary years ago when Ted was on the search for a porcelain doll for his mother for her birthday. It turned out that authenticating vintage dolls was a hidden hobby of Ted’s, and the day he walked into Gary’s shop, he rescued Gary from spending a fortune on dolls that turned out to be incredibly well-made counterfeits.

The other gentleman – an older man – Blaine doesn’t recognize. He’s standing off on his own reading a hefty, leather-bound book, while Gary and Ted talk over their game plan for the rest of the toys in the house. This man couldn’t be any more different from Gary and Ted if he tried. Where the other two men are wearing polo shirts and jeans, this older man is wearing a three-piece suit. He’s trim and tall, with generous flecks of silver interspersed in his stark black hair. Narrow reading glasses sit perched at the tip of his long, thin nose. His lips move as he reads, ignoring the other two men and their constant jabber.

From the looks of things, only Gary and his crew have arrived so far, which means everyone else would be showing up later on, while Blaine is inside the house and Kurt outside. Blaine hadn’t anticipated that. Usually everyone on the renovation team gets to a project house early. He doesn’t want anyone bothering Kurt when they arrive.

Blaine leans over to Kurt’s seat. “Okay, I’m going to be a couple of hours, but I’ll be in and out, so I’ll check in on you to make sure you’re alright.”

Kurt doesn’t open his eyes but he smiles, turning his face in the direction of Blaine’s voice. “Oh, Blaine, you are a gentleman. But don’t worry too much about me. I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

Blaine looks at Kurt’s face, serene and sparkling in the daylight. He’s staring, he knows it, but he can’t help it. Kurt is such an attractive puppet. He has such a kind and honest face. There are many compliments Blaine could give to Kurt in that regard that, unfortunately, wouldn’t be compliments at all. Blaine could say that Kurt is beautiful, which he is, but that might be more a comment on the masterful way he was made, and therefore a compliment to Andrew’s workmanship. Blaine would rather cut out his tongue than compliment that monster. Blaine could say that Kurt is handsome, as he was in all of those black and white photographs Blaine saw, but that would be a compliment to the person he was.

A person who doesn’t entirely exist anymore.

Whoever Kurt is, whatever he is, whatever miracle brought him to be, Blaine adores him - shamelessly so.

Of all the crazy, outlandish, off-the-wall things that could happen to Blaine, he has a thing for a puppet.

Go figure.

“Blaine?” Kurt whispers, his smile growing wider. “Are you planning on leaving anytime soon, or are you going to stare at me all day?”

Blaine’s cheeks go from tan to scarlet in award-winning time.

“I was … I was just wondering … uh …” He clears his throat “… if you’re going to be okay sitting here, or if you need a book to read or something.”

Blaine clamps his jaw shut when he remembers the only things he has in the van to read are the journals in the trunk.

“I’m fine,” Kurt assures him, “except …”

Uh-oh … he does want to read. Shit!

“Except …” Blaine repeats anxiously.

“If you can maybe find me some paper and a pencil? I would like to sketch.”

“Sketch?” Blaine mentally breathes a sigh of relief.

“Yes. I design clothes.” Kurt sounds contrite, like he’s apologizing for this thing that he enjoys, and Blaine longs to ask him who might have given him the impression that designing clothes was a bad thing. Kurt’s mother doesn’t sound like the type to discourage her son from a hobby like sewing, and Andrew, for all his faults, included a sewing machine in Kurt’s room, so it couldn’t have been him.

“Of course,” Blaine says, opening his door. “I’m sure I can dig some up. Give me a moment.”

“Mm-hmm.” Kurt hums as he reaches for the button to recline the seat. “Take your time.”

Blaine hops out and shuts the door behind him. Cheers and applause go up from Gary and Ted, who wave his way, hooting and hollering like the over-excited fools they are. Blaine smiles and waves back, heading for his trunk.

“I’ll open up the house in a second,” he calls out, knowing that Gary is drooling to get his hands on the rest of those toys. Blaine admires Gary really. He’s living his dream - he owns his own business, makes enough to support himself in an expensive city like San Diego, and most importantly, he enjoys what he does.

If Blaine can achieve half of that, he’ll consider himself fortunate.

Blaine knows he has a notebook somewhere in the trunk, but with all of the things he’s packed and unpacked in the last few days, he doesn’t know where it ended up. He rustles through the usual automotive junk – first aid kit, jumper cables, a bottle of Armor All. He comes across a roll of paper towels and a half used bottle of Windex that he doesn’t remember ever seeing , but there it is, and it reminds him of the posters hanging in the kitchen – the ones with dust caked on so thick Blaine couldn’t see through it. He pulls them out, keeping a hold of them while he keeps looking. Underneath the backseat he finds his notebook, with a pencil shoved inside the spiral rings. He grabs it along with the three journals, hiding them strategically between his body and the cleaning supplies. He closes the trunk and walks over to Kurt’s window.

“Here you go,” he says, laying the notebook on the lap of the resting puppet.

“Thank you, Blaine,” Kurt says with eyes still closed. “Now go. I’ll be fine. I promise.” And he blows Blaine a kiss.

Blaine feels it land against his cheek as if it were a real, palpable thing.

“Alright, Kurt,” Blaine says, noticing how Kurt’s smile grows when he says his name.

Blaine heads to the house, gesturing to the other men with one wide wave. All three men look at Blaine’s van as they pass. Though none of them are close enough to peek inside and see Kurt stretched out in the front seat with his eyes shut, they must have caught a glimpse of him because he’s the first thing Gary mentions as Blaine starts unlocking the house.

“So, you’re driving around with them, Blaine?” he asks, sounding disturbed but amused by Blaine’s choice of company. “Is this a legitimate obsession, or just an attempt to defraud your way into the carpool lane?”

Blaine decides not to argue with Gary, knowing he’s mainly teasing him.

“You know, Gary,” Blaine says, sticking a key into the front door, “as an adult man who plays with dolls, I would think that you, of all people, might understand.”

“Wait,” Ted says. “You guys aren’t kidding, are you? You brought the puppet with you, Blaine!?”

Blaine turns and shoots Gary an accusing glance as the door swings open and he leads the trio inside.

“You told him?”

“I’m sorry, Blaine,” Gary says, not sounding sorry at all. “It just … came up.”

“What in the world were you guys talking about that the subject of my puppets came up in conversation?” Blaine props the door open, then starts pulling the drapes.

“Cheeseburgers,” both men answer in unison, leaving Blaine to shake his head.

“You took one of the puppets?” the older man sneers, speaking for the first time.

“Blaine” - Gary steps in before a potential argument breaks out - “this is Alex Norton. He specializes in Vaudeville culture, and he’s very interested in the puppets.”

“I purchased two of the puppets,” Blaine clarifies to the man staring him down through the wafer thin lenses of his spectacles, “from my brother, who owns the house and everything in it.”

“So, you purchased them without knowing what they’re worth?” The man’s nostrils flare with contained anger.

“I paid quite a bit for them,” Blaine says in his defense, swallowing a comment about the loss of his paycheck. “I’m pretty sure my brother got what they’re worth.”

“Like I said,” Gary interrupts, “he didn’t buy any of the franchised puppets, just two handmade puppets that were trashed in the basement.”

“Made by the original owner of the house, yes?” Alex over-enunciates each word, unnecessarily in Blaine’s opinion. “Andrew Smythe?”

Blaine bristles at the name. “What difference does that make?”

“That makes the puppets of historical significance.” Alex straightens, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Therefore, I will need to see the puppets.” Alex stares at Blaine, waiting to be lead out to his van, Blaine assumes.

“No,” Blaine says.

“No?” Alex repeats contemptuously, his glasses beginning to slide their way back down his nose.

“No.” Blaine stands firm. “You are free to see any puppet in the house, but those two are my personal property. They’re not available for you to see.”

“They are the only existing examples of Andrew Smythe’s attempts to make human-sized puppets,” Alex argues, leaning in in an attempt to intimidate him.

“Too bad,” Blaine says. “You can’t see them.”

Alex stares at Blaine and Blaine stares back, the air between them electric, waiting for a spark to set it off.

“Okay, guys,” Ted intercedes, hoping to diffuse the tension, “we have a lot of work to do. If Blaine doesn’t want to show off his puppets, he doesn’t have to.”

Alex’s upper lip curls, baring his teeth. He knows he’s lost, but his eyes darken nonetheless.

“Fine,” he says, the word a growl inside his locked jaw. He stands up straight, fixes his glasses on his nose again, and walks off as if he knows where he’s going.

Blaine watches him carefully, concerned with how comfortable he seems in the house.

“I apologize about that,” Gary says. “He’s … really passionate about his work.”

“Apparently,” Blaine says, thankful that Kurt is safe in the minivan outside, and that even Sebastian is securely locked up in the beach house.

“Come on.” Gary claps Blaine on the back as he eyes the man heading for the hallway. “Let’s get to work so I can get these glorious tin toys back to my shop.”

Blaine peeks out the window to make sure Kurt can’t be seen, then heads off down the hallway himself. He holds his head high as he passes Alex on the way to the dining room, barely giving the man any berth as he hustles by. Alex grumbles something beneath his breath, but Blaine doesn’t pay enough attention to pick up the remark. He heads straight for the posters hanging on the dining room walls and begins spraying the glass with Windex. He puts his books and supplies on the table and waits as the blue liquid cuts through years of grease and grime, spreading through the muck like fingernails scraping it off. He sprays each poster frame a few more times before he starts tearing paper towels from the roll and wiping, cleaning the glass completely before he steps back and takes a good look at them.

He was right in assuming they were theater posters – twenty in all, each one hung in order showing the rise and fall of “The Great” (a superlative he adds in his head with a sarcastic snarl) Andrew Smythe. The poster on the far left starts with Andrew’s act listed at the bottom in the tiniest type conceivable. As time progresses, Andrew’s listing on the bill rises. His act becomes ‘Andrew and Sons’, written in larger and larger typeface until bam! There he is - his face big as life. And even though his act is still titled ‘Andrew and Sons’, the picture on the poster is of him alone with a puppet sitting on his lap – Sammy, more than likely. A couple more posters have his face on them, but then a new face takes its place and his act, now listed as ‘The Great Andrew Smythe’, shrinks back down the list of names until it’s barely legible.

“Ah. The demise of The Great Andrew Smythe,” a nasally voice echoes through the room. “Tragic.”

“Yes,” Blaine says, “if you believe Andrew Smythe was great.”

Alex tilts his head and stares at Blaine aghast.

“He was one of the greatest performers of his time.”

“Maybe, but he was a crap father.”

Alex jerks back, scrunching his nose as if he’d smelled something offensive when Blaine opened his mouth. “How could you possibly know that?”

Blaine shrugs, crossing his arms over his chest, his eyes flicking subconsciously to the journals on the table. “I’ve been doing research.”

“Well, did your research tell you that being a good parent wasn’t a pre-requisite for being an excellent performer? Nobody in particular cared how he treated his children.”

Alex makes this statement with such an absence of emotion that it feels like a slap in the face.

“To be perfectly honest, I couldn’t care less about Andrew Smythe or his precious act.”

“And yet you apparently spent a considerable amount of money to purchase two of his rarest puppets, which are now so important to you that you won’t let anyone see them.”

“That’s my business,” Blaine says, wanting a quick end to this so he can find a quiet spot and start reading the journals.

“And what about these posters?” Alex asks, pointing to the walls. “Are they to become victims of your indiscernible personal collecting habits, too?”

“No. They’re being donated to the San Diego Historical Society for their exhibit on Vaudeville,” Blaine says with a sardonic twist to his lips. “I hear it’s excellent. Very informative. You should go check it out.” Now would be nice, he thinks. He picks the journals up off the table. Alex watches him, zeroing in on the books in Blaine’s hands as if he recognizes them.

“What are those?” he asks, reaching out a hand like he’s planning to grab them away, but Blaine pulls them towards his chest.

“Homework,” Blaine answers sharply as he brushes past, heading down the hallway and back toward the living room. He decides to plant himself next to the living room window and wait for the other members of the team to arrive. With Alex in the house, Blaine needs to keep an eye on Kurt. He can’t see Kurt from the window because the puppet is lying back in his seat, but Blaine’s not taking the chance of Alex slipping out unseen and harassing him.

He leans his head against the glass and looks at the journals, trying to decide where he wants to start first. Figuring that going in order will be less confusing in the long run, he opens the journal dated 1924.

March 5 -

Dear Margaret –

Our little nine-year-old is quite the recluse. He also has one hell of a left hook, and because of that we are no longer with the Henderson and Co. traveling show. That’s alright, though. I always thought they were stealing from the till, anyhow. So what if it took their little bastard Billy getting a black eye for us to leave that roadside freak show? I know that traveling can be hard on Sebastian, but I think it’s just because he misses you that he acts out this way. He needs a friend. Hopefully we can glom on to another traveling show that has kids down the line. Who knows what will come our way? I love you and miss you always.

July 6 –

Dear Margaret –

I think I might have found the solution to the problem with our Sebastian … and his name is Kurt Hummel. We just finished a show in Columbus, and on our way through Lima, we found him. Well, Sebastian found him. He’s not much more than a slip of a boy, with the thickest head of brown hair you’ve ever seen, but he’s clean and polite and has a voice like an angel. If I didn’t know better, I would say that Sebby was quite taken with him. He was probably just blown away by this kid’s talent like I was. But there’s something different about this boy. He’s special – not only his voice, but the way he behaves, as if performing isn’t something he does, it’s something he is. I’m hoping that his father will let the boy come with us. I introduced myself, told him my piece, but the man became suspicious as all get out. I could just let the matter be, but I really think having Kurt in our act would be a God send. Wish us luck, Margaret.

July 30 –

Dear Margaret -

By golly, it worked. My sweet new acquisition has tamed your unruly son. The two rug-rats are thick as thieves. It’s almost like having you back here with us, Maggy. He cooks, he cleans, he sings all the time. From morning to evening, he fills the house with music. I feel bad for his papa though - losing a wife and now a son - but I promised the man I’d raise his son proper. Maybe with his talent in the mix we’ll finally make it to Europe like we always planned. Can’t you just picture it, Maggy? Headlining in Paris?

“Hey, Blaine,” Gary calls, his arms wrapped around a box filled with carefully wrapped metal toys, “aren’t you supposed to be filming us or something?”

Blaine doesn’t look up from the journal when he reaches a hand into the pocket of his pants and pulls out his webcam. He switches it on and points it in Gary’s general direction. Gary chuckles.

“You know, Cooper’s going to be pissed,” Gary says, adjusting the box in his arms and heading for the door.

“Yeah, well …” Blaine lets the comment die off as he closes the first journal and opens the second one.

March 14 –

Dear Margaret -

Boy, that Kurt is sharp as a pin. Every day he spends with us, I learn something new. Here he’s been with us for almost a year and I didn’t know he spoke French. Says his mom taught him when he was little. She must have been one hell of a woman, just like you, Maggy.

August 21 -

Dear Margaret -

I was a little worried taking Kurt on that he’d be sort of … delicate. You’d understand if you saw him. But he’s no nancy, I’ll tell you that. Kurt and Seb got themselves into one heck of a tussle the other day – the two of them against four older boys, all of them a foot taller, and boy oh boy, did Kurt lick ‘em good. Of course, I told them that I wouldn’t stand by fighting, not while we’re trying to make a respectable name for ourselves in the higher paying houses in town. And I disciplined them. I didn’t lay a hand on Kurt. It don’t feel right giving a hiding to another man’s son and besides, I’m pretty sure it was Sebastian’s mouth that got them into all that trouble, so he got a few extra lashings with the belt to teach him. But you would have been so proud to see that boy handle himself.

Blaine winces as he reads. He knows that Kurt, Sebastian, and Andrew lived during another era, in almost a completely different world. The twenties erupted in the middle of a turbulent time in American history, but that’s no excuse for the way Andrew treated his son – or the fact that he replaced him.

Blaine switches to the last journal – 1928. He does the math – if Sebastian was 10 in 1924, he’d be around 14 in 1928.

February 22 –

Dear Margaret -

Those two boys are inseparable. They go everywhere together, and they’re so similar, they could pass for brothers. So I call the act ‘Andrew and Sons’ now. It’s worked out well for us so far. The burlesque houses hire us for their matinees. It’s good to have a family act to offset the bawdier performances. With our name on the billboards, it keeps the Fuzz off their backs and we get a higher percentage of the pot.

Blaine skims through a few entries, stopping off and on when real life intervenes. He’s interrupted first by a phone call from the storage company, rescheduling again for the following day, and then by Alex when he boldly tries to read over Blaine’s shoulder. Gary swoops in and rescues Blaine by telling the dreadful man that he and Ted are ready to pack up the puppets and they need his help with the values. Alex gives Blaine a stern glare before he hobbles off after Gary and Ted.

Blaine turns to the back of the book, trying to find an entry that he saw earlier and thought looked promising.

October 15 –

Dear Margaret –

I wish you were here. It was the darndest thing. I went out to the shed behind the house and saw Sebastian kissing Kurt. It wasn’t brotherly nor friendly neither. It was a real, honest-to-God kiss. I’m not surprised with Kurt. I kind of suspected that his tastes tilted that way, so that doesn’t bother me. He’s a smart boy, and if that makes him happy, then so be it, but not Sebastian. I’m not raising a cake-eater. But it’s an easy fix. I’ll whore it out of him. I know you wouldn’t approve, Maggy, but there’s nothing else I can do. He turns fifteen come January. I’ll plan for then. In the meantime, I’ll have to find a way to keep them apart.

Blaine closes the journal. He’s had enough. He blinks his eyes, spots and shapes dancing in front of him as he recovers from Andrew Smythe’s wretched penmanship. He looks out the window in time to see Kurt raise his seat. From this distance, Kurt doesn’t look like a puppet. With his head titled, his eyes shut, a small smile curling his mouth, he looks like a human boy.

Blaine sees a car from another pawn shop pull up out front, and he runs to meet them with his webcam switched on. After Cooper’s demeaning phone call, Blaine isn’t too concerned with getting all the shots he claims that he needs, so he plans on only taking enough to keep his brother off his back. He ushers the men into the house and directs them down to the basement, filming as they look over the large tools and equipment, deciding what they can realistically sell. It takes a while to interview these new guys since they’re so focused with the job of rifling through the power tools, plugging each one in to see which ones work or not. As soon as Blaine gets the bare minimum of shots that he needs, he races back up the stairs, taking a brief shot of Alex discussing what looks like the last of the puppets with Gary and Ted, and then heads for Kurt sitting in the van.

“Hey,” Blaine says, trying to sound nonchalant while panting uncontrollably, “I came out here to make sure you weren’t getting too hot or anything.”

“Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve felt the sun on my face?” Kurt sighs. “Or the wind?”

“I can only imagine.” Blaine cocks his head. “Do you feel it now?”

“Not really,” Kurt says, the smile on his lips taking a wry quality. “But I can remember them better when I’m outside than when I was locked up in the dark.”

Kurt’s comment tugs at Blaine’s heart. Tears prick his eyes at the thought of this beautiful boy locked up, shattered to pieces on that cold, damp floor, and he has to look away. He glances down and sees the notebook he gave Kurt open in his lap, the pencil stuck back in the spiral spine, two sheets of paper covered in drawings. Kurt didn’t sketch clothes like he’d said, but the living room and dining room of the house, drawn the way they might have looked when Andrew bought the place. Blaine stares in awe at the intricate details of the embossed wallpaper, the grain in the wood floor, the furniture, down to the tiny touches – portraits on the walls, statuettes on the mantel, books in the bookcase, and the tools by the fireplace, arranged so purposefully that Blaine can tell which one gets the most use by how it leans slightly while the others stand perfectly straight. Even the light streaming in through spaces in the drawn curtains gives hints to what time of day it is.

“Kurt … your drawings … are they of this house?”

“Sort of.” Kurt closes the book, keeping his eyes staunchly shut, and hands it to Blaine. “It’s a combination of the house we lived in with Sebastian’s dad and this one the few times I saw it.”

“They’re amazing,” Blaine says, thumbing through the pages. Kurt has sketched each upstairs bedroom, a bathroom, and also (Blaine discovers) a few outfits. They’re an older fashion, a match to the time period Kurt lived in.

“Thank you,” Kurt says.

“I’m close to wrapping things up in there,” Blaine mentions, setting the notebook back on Kurt’s lap. “We’ve probably got around another hour or so. Did you think about where you might want to go after this? The movies, maybe?”

Kurt raises one eyelid and peeks at Blaine.

“Do you think there’s some place we can go and see the sky?”

Blaine nods.

“I think I know the perfect place.”

***

“I’ve missed the beach so much,” Kurt says, sitting cross-legged on the retaining wall. His eyes travel up and down the shoreline, watching the white caps of the tide curl into the sand.

“Me, too,” Blaine agrees, his own gaze following Kurt’s.

Kurt turns and looks at Blaine. “But, don’t you live here?”

“No.” Blaine coughs, the confession he should have made before tickling the back of his throat. “Actually, I’m from Westerville, but I live in Lima.”

Kurt gasps, throwing both hands over his mouth. “You’re kidding!”

“Nope.” Blaine takes out his cell phone and opens his photo gallery. “Here. Take a look.” He scoots closer to Kurt so that he can better see the pictures on the screen. “These are a few of my friends from high school.”

“Where do you go?”

“McKinley.”

“Hmmm … must be new,” Kurt says, watching Blaine swipe the screen and change the photo.

“This is the Auglaize River last winter. The Glee Club went skating there over break.”

“That’s quite a handsome young man you’ve got your arms around,” Kurt remarks dryly, eyes darting away from the image of a tall blond grabbing Blaine from behind. Blaine smiles at the jealousy plain in Kurt’s voice.

“That’s my best friend Sam. He’s just a friend,” Blaine explains.

“You look close,” Kurt says, noticeably unconvinced.

“We are,” Blaine admits with a smile that slowly takes over his entire face.

“Quite.”

Blaine switches the photo, bypassing a few others with Sam in them. He wants to tease Kurt with the knowledge that he garnered from those journals, how Andrew had hoped Kurt could settle Sebastian down, how the two boys were so fond of each other, but it seems like a cruel memory to bring up. Kurt might not remember it that way and besides, thinking about that closeness starts to plant a seed of jealousy in Blaine’s mind.

Especially that kiss.

Blaine shows Kurt a few, more generic, pictures – the farmer’s market where the Secret Society of Superheroes Club held a food drive last Thanksgiving, the Lima Mall, The Lima Bean coffee shop where Blaine goes pretty much every day after school. Kurt looks at these photos like he’s absorbing the images into his brain, imprinting them there.

“It looks so different now,” he says. “I don’t think I’d recognize it if I went back there.”

“Do you want to go back there?” Blaine asks, closing the photo gallery and pocketing his phone.

Kurt looks at the ocean, sadly shaking his head. “No. There’s nothing there for me now.” He wraps his arms around his torso, runs his hands up his exposed skin.

“Do you want to leave?” Blaine assumes Kurt has caught a chill, forgetting for a moment that Kurt can’t feel the cold.

“Not yet. You know, back when I …” He stops. He stares off at the distance, then he shakes his head. “Do you think it’s more fitting to say when I was alive? Or should I say when I was human? I mean, if I’m speaking of the past, what do I say? How do I address it?”

“That’s a good question.” Blaine wraps his arms around his bent knees and squeezes. He’s definitely catching a chill, but he has no intention of mentioning it. “I would say that you’re alive. And I like to think of you as human. Maybe you don’t need to make the distinction.”

Kurt looks at his hands, turning them over front to back, examining them beneath the moonlight. As well made as they are, as much time was put into them, they don’t look like human hands. They glisten unnaturally, and his knobby knuckles reveal the fact that his digits separate, each piece held together by wire, every time he bends them.

He may be alive, if this is what alive is, but he’s far from human.

“What’s going to happen to me now?” he asks, looking at Blaine with his hands splayed in front of him. “I’m a puppet. I’m made of porcelain. I can’t have a normal life like you. I know you said you would help me, but how? What can I do?” Kurt drops his hands in his lap, helpless, and Blaine sighs. He feels just as helpless. He doesn’t know exactly how Kurt feels, but Blaine is human and still, most of the time, he has no clue what he’s doing. He can’t fix this, not completely, not right now. He doesn’t even know where to start. So he puts an arm around Kurt’s shoulders and holds him close, and together they watch the waves chase each other down the beach.

***

Blaine and Kurt return to the beach house late. They’re not covered in sand, so Blaine doesn’t rush to shower right away. He takes Kurt to his bedroom and sits him down on the bed.

“Okay,” Blaine says. “I had a thought. Hang out here for a second. I’ll be right back.”

Kurt nods, watching Blaine disappear out the door. He crosses the living room and heads for the opposite end of the house. These rooms Blaine doesn’t go to usually with the exception of the kitchen. Where his room and his brother’s room are situated side-by-side on one end of the house, the master bedroom and his parent’s library mirror them on the other.

It’s the master bedroom that Blaine ducks into.

When Blaine was younger, his mother used to sew a lot. It was a hobby that inspired him, but that she kind of grew out of the more “adult” she became. He can’t remember exactly when that happened, it just kind of did. She kept a basket of sewing supplies in the bottom of the closet, along with a few old fashion magazines, so Blaine always had hopes of her picking it up again.

To date, she hasn’t.

On their last visit here, his father, who is tall and thin like Kurt, left clothes hanging in the closet. He had planned to pick them up on their next summer trip, but there never was another one. Blaine looks them over, frowning at how out-of-style they are, but he hopes that Kurt can do something with them. Blaine pulls the clothes off the hangers, grabs the basket of supplies and a handful of magazines, and races back through the house, ignoring Sebastian with each pass.

“Here we go.” Blaine slides into the bedroom on his sock-covered feet and drops the supplies onto his bed. Kurt sees them and goes from sullen to ecstatic.

“Oh, Blaine.” He picks through the clothes and the magazines, smiling so brightly that Blaine thinks Kurt might burst into song. “Did you bring all of this in here for me?”

“Yeah. Well, I thought these clothes might fit you better.” He opens the basket of sewing supplies. “And if they don’t, you could alter them, maybe? And …”

Blaine stops when Kurt kisses him on the cheek. It’s brief, innocent, but it makes Blaine’s entire body tingle.

“It’s wonderful,” Kurt whispers. “Thank you.”

“Yeah? Oh. I’m glad you like them.” He stands and backs up toward the bathroom door while Kurt continues to sift through the items on the bed. “I’m just going to take a quick rinse, and then …”

“Are you going to work on Sebastian?” Kurt’s expression seems genuinely hopeful, but Blaine still has trouble interpreting that wary tone in Kurt’s voice.

“Do you really want me to?” Blaine asks.

Kurt pauses a second.

It’s a second in which Blaine thinks Kurt might say no.

“Yes,” Kurt says in the same unsure tone. “Yes, I do.”

***

Blaine’s shower is basically a dip beneath cold water to get his head straight before he jumps back out and joins Kurt for what could turn out to be a long, exhaustive night of repairing Sebastian. He has only been at it for fifteen minutes, but already he wants to throw in the towel. Sitting in a chair from the dining room that he pulled up in front of the loveseat, Blaine struggles to get Sebastian’s arm seated correctly. Whereas Kurt’s body felt magnetic, his broken limbs pulling together, longing to return to their body, Sebastian’s body feels like he’s repelling these pieces away. Maybe Sebastian doesn’t want to be put back together, Blaine muses.

Or maybe he doesn’t want help from Blaine.

If Blaine had the money to send him to a professional repair person, he would. At least it would get Sebastian out of the house for a few days. The longer he sits on the love seat staring blankly into space, the more unnerving it feels having him around.

Blaine wrestles with the piece, eventually fitting the arm in its socket. He threads the wires through, twisting them together and tying them, but they snap before he can finish. The sharp end recoils and hits Blaine on the arm, leaving a long scratch. Sebastian’s arm falls off his body and onto the love seat.

“Dammit,” Blaine screams, dropping Sebastian to look at his smarting wound, which sends the loose arm tumbling to the floor.

Kurt puts down his sewing and runs over to examine Blaine’s injured arm.

“Is it bleeding?” he asks, looking on with concern.

“I don’t think so,” Blaine hisses, “but it hurts like hell.” Blaine reaches for a box of tissues on the table while Kurt bends over to retrieve Sebastian’s arm.

“Blaine!” Kurt exclaims, getting on his hands and knees. “You didn’t tell me you had a cat!”

“I … I don’t.” Blaine leans to the right and peeks over Kurt’s shoulder. “Oh, is it a tabby cat?” he asks, remembering the fugitive cat that scared the living daylights out of him. “Apparently he’s found a way in here.”

“No!” Kurt gasps, pulling a furry body out from underneath the love seat. Blaine eyes the unmoving animal and groans low in his throat.

Great. The cat broke in again just in time to die in my dining room.

But what Kurt has in his hands isn’t the dead body of a tabby cat. It’s the puppet of a tabby cat - the same tabby cat Blaine had seen in the house before. It has the same inquisitive green eyes, the same ripple pattern to the fur.

“Abigail,” Kurt murmurs, gently stroking the animal’s coat.

“Abigail?” Blaine slides off his chair to kneel on the floor beside him.

“Yes.” Kurt smiles affectionately at the realistic-looking feline puppet with the silky fur and the sparkling green eyes. “Sebastian made her. His dad was teaching us to make puppets, and Abigail was Sebastian’s.”

“But why would Abigail be here?” Blaine asks. “I didn’t bring her here.”

“Abigail was the first,” Kurt says, petting the cat as if he expected it to spring to life any second.

“The first … what?”

“The first puppet that Sebastian’s dad tried the spell on,” Kurt explains, each word forming as if the memory comes to him in the instant that he speaks.

“A spell?”

Kurt’s eyes grow wide as he starts to remember.

“Sebastian’s dad bartered for a spell from the Calhoun family. A favor for a favor. It was supposed to capture any lingering soul and put it into the vessel of your choice.”

“But, why start with the cat?” Blaine asks. It sounds far too fantastic to be real.

But then again …

“Abigail wasn’t just any cat.” Kurt holds the animal up to his nose and stares into its eyes, trying to coax the creature to come alive for them. “She was Sebastian’s cat. His best friend back before I joined their group. She was a stray. Andrew didn’t really let Sebastian keep her. She followed them around because Sebastian fed her, and they couldn’t get rid of her. After she died, Sebastian said he always kind of felt her around. He swore he would see her dart out from behind corners, or feel her curl up next to him while he slept. She was always hiding under things and scurrying beneath toys and such, looking for mice …”

Blaine’s mind conjures up the sounds of scurrying he heard in the Victorian house when he first entered it, wondering if they might have been made by Abigail hunting around the piles of trash.

“He got the spell to bring us back, but he tried it out on Abigail first.”

“So, he was able to bring her back because she stayed behind? So that means that you stayed behind?”

Kurt puts Abigail down beside Sebastian on the love seat, moving the cat close to his friend’s body so that they can finally be together again.

“I couldn’t leave him,” Kurt says, giving the cat puppet one last pat on the head. “He was like a father to me. And he felt so guilty … I had to make sure that he was going to be okay.”

“And Sebastian?” Blaine bites his tongue. The answer is obvious, but Blaine doesn’t want to let on that he harbors secret knowledge of the motives of Andrew – or Sebastian - Smythe. After what Blaine read in those journals, he knows that Sebastian didn’t stick around for his father. No way. There’s only one person he would have stayed around for.

“He stayed around for me.” When Kurt turns and looks at Blaine, it’s with the ghost of tears in his eyes – tears that don’t exist but are as real as any others, brought on by emotion that Kurt can feel but can’t fully express. “That’s why you have to promise me you’ll put him back together.” Kurt wraps his arms around Blaine’s torso. “You have to fix him. Please? For me?”

“I will,” Blaine says, holding Kurt just as tightly in his arms. “I promised I will, and I will.” With his cheek resting in Kurt’s hair, he looks Sebastian over. He should fix Sebastian – at least give the poor guy another arm or a leg. He did promise Kurt. Sebastian’s puppet is made of wood and the pieces are not as extensively damaged as Kurt’s were, but fixing Sebastian feels like the last thing he should do.

He has a feeling that if Sebastian wakes up, he has the power to take Kurt away from him for good.

***

There must be rats somewhere beneath the floor. Or possums. Or maybe Abigail is up and roaming about the house, chasing dust bunnies or pouncing on her shadow. Either way, in his sleep, Blaine can hear the scrape, scrape, scrape of something moving across the wood floor.

Or maybe it’s a gnawing. He can’t tell in his half-asleep state.

His mind swims with dreams of Kurt: Kurt sitting on the sand at the beach, staring off into the water; Kurt dancing beneath the moonlight, arms outstretched to the sky; Kurt lying beside him where they fell asleep together on the living room floor, their fingers intertwined.

Kurt’s blue eyes, his smooth skin, his pink lips.

Blaine feels a tickle on his cheek, bothering him awake. He opens his eyes with a smile, expecting to see a tuft of orange fur, or maybe blue eyes staring at him from an already awake Kurt.

He hopes it’s eyes – stunning blue glass eyes.

Blaine’s eyes open slowly, holding on to as much dream as he can, even though he’s eager to spend another day with Kurt.

He focuses through slits. It’s eyes that he sees alright, but this time they’re not blue.

They’re green.

And they don’t belong to Abigail.

Blaine’s eyes snap open, realization propelling him awake.

Sebastian is lying out on the floor in front of him, nose pressed against his, wooden mouth split into a startling grin.

“Well hey there, tiger,” Sebastian says. “Don’t I get a kiss hello?”

[randomguywithwords]

As The Dust Settles: Chapter 13 (Geten X Dabi Slowburn)

Chapter 13: Violet’s Assignment

AO3 Link: Here

Previous Chapters: 12, 11, 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1

––––––––

After the training session, Geten returned to her room, the afterglow of her victory still present on her lips. The wind that whipped through her parka as she rode her ice platform felt cooler than usual; she felt more free and giddy. A minute had passed before she realised she had been humming from satisfaction, to a song she did not remember. 

Perhaps her good mood would last for at least a day or two. 

But as she reached the window of her floor, she saw a soldier standing outside. 

“What?” Geten fixated him with a glare. 

With a shaky bow and a total refusal to make eye contact, he passed her an envelope with arms which were trembling even more, and ran off the second she took the letter. 

Smirking as she saw him sprint down the hallway, she opened it to see a typewritten message by Shigaraki. 

“Emergency meeting, 10am. Usual.” His signature was scrawled at the bottom.

That’s a couple of minutes from now. Damn it. 

With a sigh, she created her ice platform once more and glided towards Re-destro’s mansion. But as she opened the doors of the council room, she frowned, but then...Ah, I see, so that’s what he wants.

“I assume you want to talk to me alone.” Geten scanned the council room, all chairs unoccupied except the one in the middle, where Tomura Shigaraki was leaning back on his, dressed in his black jacket and wearing his signature disembodied hand on his face. 

“Take a seat,” Shigaraki said. Geten did, and then Shigaraki began.

“Have you and Dabi settled your issues?” 

“Somewhat.” Geten met the boy’s eyes. They were sunken and darkened around the edges, like a skull which refused to die. Those crimson irises were the same ones which had rooted the charging Liberation Army in their place out of pure terror, despite Trumpet’s Inciting. 

A question arose to her lips, albeit she did not speak it, as those eyes bore into her: Can he see? Does he have vision? A vision for the Liberation Front? 

These thoughts had formed whenever she saw him address the PLF: at the festival where Re-destro had abdicated his throne, and at yesterday’s meeting.

“So you two can lead the Violet Regiment?”

“Yes.” 

“Good, two more questions.” Shigaraki relaxed his arms on the table as he leaned forward. “Who are you, Apocrypha?”

“You know my name.”

“Apocrypha? Geten? Iceman?” Shigaraki snorted. “Cut the bullshit, they’re your...usernames. The first two mean the same, and it’s ironic, because their meaning tells me you don’t know the answer either.” 

“Then why ask me?” 

“Because I’m wondering if you want to know.”

“No. I have no need for a name. I was Re-destro’s weapon, Shigaraki. A sword has no need for a name any more than a stray dog does. So please, get to the point.” She ended her speech with a glare.

Shigaraki met it with an indifferent expression, perhaps even surprised by that sudden outburst, but then his cracked lips widened in approval. 

“I would’ve killed you for uttering my name.” Shigaraki’s smile was unnerving, and Geten flinched despite herself, “but I could tell you’re different. You’re different from the rest of these cowards.”

“When you have 2 CEOs and a politician, and you had a...journalist, or whatever she was, you were never spoken to properly. Everything needed a bush to beat around. I like to disintegrate the whole forest.” Shigaraki placed four fingers on the desk. Geten knew he could activate it autonomously now, but she understood his point. 

Her hands were off the desk before she realised it. Shigaraki seemed to notice it, and continued,

“I’m asking for your loyalty, because it’s bleeding dry in this army. I’m not stupid. You don’t take over an enemy city and expect the people to bow down. There’s gonna be riots. There’s gonna be a lot of plotting. If you’re smart you would have realised it by now, or even gotten involved…” He looked at her with a suggestive grin. She kept her face impassive, as a bead of perspiration rolled down her forehead.

“But I get the feeling you like to settle things face to face. You’re no assassin, are you? Your skill points seem more geared towards strength.” Shigaraki’s gaze felt like it was penetrating her mind, probing her thoughts. She felt unsafe – a person walking through an alley at twilight. That person never saw the blade of ice, just darkness, and then darkness eternal. 

She felt as vulnerable as the people she had killed.

Does he know too? There’s no way he couldn’t, right? He knew about Takame, wouldn’t he question Skeptic and Trumpet why he wasn’t on the official register? But he said he spoke straightforwardly, not like them. Not like the MLA. 

“Of course not.” The words flowed from her mouth before she could think about it. “And…you have my allegiance, Grand Commander.” She gave a slight bow of her head, even as her mind was suspended in a frenzied blizzard – blind, in chaos, terrified. 

She kept her head down, feeling queasy looking at those red eyes of his. She finally understood why the army had stopped in their tracks then. 

“Good. I look forward to seeing what you can do for me,” Shigaraki said. “Ah, right on time.”

The doors opened behind her as the rest of the PLF lieutenants arrived, one by one.

So there is a meeting? Geten quickly regained her composure. The rest of them could not see her in that state. She could tell some were staring at her, probably curious as to why she was so early. Bowing her head, she made eye contact with no one, her face heating up. 

Once everyone was in, with Dabi strutting in last, the meeting commenced. 

“We have a problem.” Shigaraki stood up. “We wanted to lay low till next Friday. Well, it was going fine, but lately we’ve been picking up some chatter, chatter directed at us. Skeptic, if you would.”

Chikazoku arose with a bow towards Shigaraki and continued with the briefing. “I’ve been watching the media and the attention about the ‘Deika City Incident’, and it was dying out as expected, but I noticed one source that was constantly publishing article after article about conspiracy theories about the Incident. We’re still being talked about, and that cannot happen. I’ve tried on my own ends to stem the flow, but whoever this group or individual is, they’re not stopping. We sent some soldiers from neighbouring provinces to investigate, but they’ve all went silent. So we’re sending Carmine to deal –”

“No.” Shigaraki’s voice cut in as sharp as a knife. “Send Violet.” 

“Tomura-kun!” Toga pouted. “I wanted to taste some blood. Send my regiment!” 

“No, I want Apocrypha and Dabi to do this.” 

All eyes were scattered between Shigaraki, Dabi and her. She kept her eyes on the table, flickering upwards as Re-destro began to speak. 

“But...great leader,” Yotsubashi chuckled nervously. “Isn’t it better to send people like Mr Compress and Himiko Toga who can eliminate people silently?”

“Yeah! I like you, Re-destro! Lemme taste your blood!” Toga cheered, waving a knife at Re-destro like a toddler, who shrunk back into his seat looking even more anxious about the mentally insane girl. 

“Exactly. I want to see how the two of them deal with an assassination.”

The matter seemed to be settled. Even Dabi hadn’t spoken a word in protest. Looking at the corner of her eye, he was shrugging. “Whatever. I get to get out of this shithole and burn some people. I’m cool.” 

“Weren’t you late because you were stuffing yourself with ramen?” Spinner deadpanned, receiving a glare from the fire-user. 

“We’ll get it done, Shigaraki.” Dabi ignored the statement. 

“As long as you don’t draw attention,” Compress warned, causing Dabi to wave at him with a “Yeah, yeah, got it.”

Then Dabi turned to look at the CEO. “Skeptic, fill us in.”

–––––––

Violet Regiment left almost immediately after the meeting. Well, it wasn’t so much of a regiment as it was just Dabi and her. They had decided that an assignment of this caliber did not require any cannon fodder. So, after gathering the items needed and taking a shower, the two of them were on a private plane heading to the Tokugawa Prefecture. 

“Damn, I could get used to this.” Dabi leaned back on his luxury seat, kicking his legs up on the table. Geten, who was seated on the adjacent, opposite seat, snorted. 

“You could. But the ride is only a few hours.”

“Let me enjoy it, come on.” Dabi opened his can of coke and taking a chug.

Sighing, she looked out of the window, seeing the afternoon sky tinted with pink on the horizon. It would be evening when they landed. 

“Aren’t you wondering why we were sent?” Geten looked back at the relaxing Dabi. 

“It’s probably a punishment. Either one of us pissed Shigaraki off.” 

“So you think this whole thing is fake?”

Dabi shrugged. “Maybe. Or Shigaraki doesn’t think it’s that big of a threat to deal with it properly. Or he doesn’t care about us.”

“Does that not bother you?” Geten crossed her arms seeing how nonchalant Dabi was. 

“Nope. Deika City was getting boring anyway. If I have an excuse to leave, I’m taking it. And Shigaraki can send me wherever he likes, I know when to listen and when to do my own thing. You, on the other hand…” Dabi wagged a finger at her. “You were Re-destro’s little puppy, weren’t you?”

“Call me that again and I’ll slap you.” She sent a look of venom his way. 

“But you get what I mean.” Dabi finished his coke. “From what I can tell, you’ve spent your whole life at the heels of these MLA snobs. Now, we’re here, and you have no idea what you’re doing.”

“I know what I’m doing. I’m abiding by Destro’s principles of the strengths of Meta Abilities. But…” Geten’s eyes trailed to the floor. “You got everything else right.”  

That’s it. That’s what I’ve been missing. The League was so...free, and the MLA was so stringent with its rules. 

“Hey.” Dabi’s voice made her look up, expecting more taunting, but his expression caught her by surprise. His eyes were unusually soft, his expression not as condescending. Basically, he looked less like himself, if that was even possible. “You don’t find anything wrong with that?”

“With what?” She tilted her head curiously. 

Dabi opened his mouth, then closed it. Putting his empty can on the table, he said, “Nothing. Why you’d even ask me about this assignment in the first place? Did you do something to Shigaraki?” 

Right, he was late. 

“Well, besides wanting to kill him and everyone else when we met, I can’t imagine why he would want to punish me,” Geten said. 

Dabi saw past her sarcasm studying her expression. “Really, what happened?” 

He could be relaying everything back to Shigaraki. I can’t tell him about what I’ve done, or he’ll do something, or not trust me. 

Why does that matter? Another part of her argued. You can finish this job on your own. 

But that was it, wasn’t it? If she finished this assignment flawlessly, Shigaraki’s suspicions would be confirmed, assuming he didn’t know about her deeds beforehand. And what would happen then? Would he kill her? Lock her up? Demote her to a common foot soldier?

And why was she caring about his trust anyway?

She stared at Dabi, unable to totally decipher his expression, but there was some hint of genuine curiosity, since his eyes were slightly wider than usual. He didn’t seem like the type of person that would be Shigaraki’s servant to the extent of spying on her. 

Can I trust you? She thought.

“He asked me if I wanted to know my name.” It was a good-enough truth. 

“Really? You don’t know yours?” Dabi raised an eyebrow. 

“No. And I don’t care about it either. My name – even if he actually knows it, won’t be a bargaining chip.”

“Why? Don’t you want to know who you are?”

“It’s not important.”

“Hm. Okay,” He said. He didn’t press further, but Geten knew there were a lot of things he left unsaid. The conversation died as Geten turned back to look out the window. 

She had a lot of things unsaid too, but saying any of them to the wrong person could spell death for her. 

Hawks’ words now felt a lot more real, like a spider’s web wrapping her up. No, she didn’t feel safe. Because, and she realised this with a start – if she didn’t need real allies then, she did now. 

The word sounded so foreign. Whatever the meaning of it was, she knew at its roots, she just needed people to trust. And loyalty was bleeding dry in the PLF. 

She looked to the corner of her eye to see Dabi taking a nap. A realisation dawned on her. She had no idea why – It could have been because she had, at the very least, the leverage of strength over him, or that he spoke of Shigaraki and the MLA with disrespect, or the seemingly genuine interest in her name…

But out of all the people in the PLF, if she had to pick one person to trust, it would be him. 

But can I, Dabi? Can I trust you, and would you trust me?

––––––––––

Done. Yay. Entering a new “arc” so to speak. I really hope the tonal issues doesn’t throw your reading off. On one hand I’m trying to craft a proper internal struggle in both characters about their identity and on other issues plaguing their lives. But on the other I still want their witty banter (and fluff in later chapters), so if the disparity is too apparent, let me know. Thanks. 

And I haven’t forgotten about Dabi’s backstory, or Twice or Hawks. All in good time. I have the next few chapters planned out already. Not sure how long they’re going to be, but for this “arc” it’s really just gonna be the two of them. 

Also, anon, if you’re reading this, I hope the Geten/Shigaraki conversation was what you envisioned, or that you’re okay with how it turned out. If the dynamics wasn’t what you thought it would be, sorry ><

As for everyone else, I hoped you liked it. Any feedback is appreciated (like, really, if you didn’t like it for anyone reason, do let me know. If you want to send anon hate, I’ll genuinely entertain it as long as you really do have something constructive to discuss, and not like, idk, you just hate Dabi or villains in general. Doesn’t add anything to the discussion – well, nothing useful anyway.)