#don't disturb him in the middle of his mindfulness exercise

[canisalbus]

✦ Happy hoodie ✦

[eternity-111]

just because of a T-shirt!

NSFW! minors scroll down ⊹

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ you found out that ur favorite t-shirt is missing.. until you come across leviathan. (GN readers x leviathan)

nsfw, blow job, masturbate, getting caught ✧

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please don't mind the grammar </3

After a long day of school, you were so tired that you didn't even have the energy to do your chores and all you wanted to do was play some video games with Levi.

Once you get inside your room, you quickly close the door and quickly change into your go-to outfit. You open your wardrobe to get your favorite shorts, it was a black short with a white stripe on both sides. Next, you reach over to get your favourite t-shirt, A shirt that Levi gifted you last Valentine's Day. But the thing is.. you can't find them...? "I'm sure yesterday I put them here.." you said to yourself. Maybe.. it's on your bed? you quickly head over to your bed but again, no luck. "How about I check my wardrobe again" With an annoyed face, you walk towards the wardrobe and continue to search. it's been 10 mins and you still can't find it! too tired to think of anything, you decided to just wear a tank top. Hey, at least you're wearing something right?

After changing, you headed out to play video games with Leviathan. walking down the hallway you suddenly met Asmo, "Hey hon! Where are you going to~?" You told him that you were heading towards Leviathan's room. "Oh well~ He might be in the middle of an intense battle fight, or maybe exercising~ who knows! but I heard him panting and making weird noises a lot in there..." Asmo replied to you with a smirk and you started to feel suspicious but you brushed it off. Continue walking you wondered what is Levi doing right now. What video games made him make weird noises?! Or is he actually exercising secretly in his room?? Before you can answer your thoughts, you realize that you are now facing the door.

Reaching out for the doorknob you suddenly heard him doing something.. Maybe Asmo was right? You really think that he's in the middle of an intense battle, you don't want to disturb him because you know how important that battle is for him. Especially in situations like this where he's clearly panting..or.. moaning? Hmm.. I don't know maybe you shouldn't open the door or you should? such a curious little sheep. Carefully, you open the doorknob and you see him, yes Levi at his desk, sitting. So he is not exercising, Ha! you knew it but.. you see that his computer is just showing his wallpaper and wait... he's not playing anything! To get a better view, you walked inside.

"Y-y/n..." oh? why is he saying your name? "f-fuck.. y/n.. I need you.. ngh.." yes. he's moaning your name. That's what Asmo meant by "weird noises". And is he masturbating?! while calling your name??! And oh.. wait, is that your missing t-shirt!? trying to get a better look, you carefully walk towards him, you are now behind the one and only, leviathan. His hand is stroking his penis while the other one is holding your T-shirt. Watching him masturbate himself while he's thinking of you surely turns you on. "Y/N..." Without scaring him, you answered him softly into his ears, "Yes? Do you need anything~?" He was so shocked that the flickered, it's not that you scaring him it's just that your voice was so... soft & hot plus.. he didn't know you that watched him jacking off!

"Y-Y/N?! what are you doing here?" while still holding your shirt, looking behind him and he saw you standing so confidently and your eyes.. damn they are so alluring. After looking at you, he quickly hides his penis with the t-shirt he was holding. But you don't want him to do that. you are now in front of him, "I-im so s-sorry I promise it's no-" "Shh, relax. I wanted to help you" cutting his words off, and slowly uncovering his cock. You are now on your knees, and his penis is in your hands. twitching by your sensation. You look up just to see him blushing all over you, you opened up your mouth and suck him off while still holding that eye contact. Shit that turns him on ever more! His size is big but you can still manage to suck most of it in your mouth without gagging. a few minutes later, his breathing changes. from normal to heavy. closing his eyes as took your hair and pulled you even more deeper into him, such a needy little guy. As a response, you whimpered and gagged because you never go this far.

"l-levi.." "s-shut up, don't talk. it makes me turn on even more." And you obey. Still pulling your hair but this time, faster. you can't help but moan so much just by sucking his cock off! you wondered what it feels like to put him deep inside you. groaning at the sensation, he became even more fast and you know that he is close. all you need to do is to make him cum! that's your only job. he opened his eyes and said "Look at me"You obeyed before finally releasing his cum straight to your throat! it's so warm.. you took his cock out of your mouth while closing your eyes. coughing at his cum but you can't let anything spill out! he grabs your chin and look at you directly into your eyes. "look at me and drink my cum" he can be sooo demanding sometimes but that's what makes him hot. You open your eyes and swallow all of it. such a good little lamb. after swallowing his cum, you showed him off by opening your mouth and taking your tongue out. As an approval he kisses you, and you softly moan. He lifts you up to make you sit face to face with him on his chair just for him to kiss all over your neck. And he can tell that you are turned on right now. "I'll help you next, don't worry." you did so good that he wanted to reward you, your job is done now! or maybe not?

[fandomworld9728]

Dance With Me, Kiss Me - Chapter 2:

Okay. He was now dancing with Alastor. And everyone was staring at them. Lucifer wasn't nervous because of all the eyes on them. Nope. Nope, no, no siree. Why had the other demon asked him for a dance anyways? They had had been wallflowers all night.

"You mentioned something about a re-do kiss?"

"Oh. That's what this was about. Well, it was Lucifer's idea. He didn't mind helping out. he had been in a similar situation after all.

~

"Isn't it so great that they're finally getting along?" Dancing with her girlfriend, Charlie had been secretly watching over Alastor and her dad. Especially after they started to dance together.

The pair had been getting closer in such a short time. It just proved to the princess that her intuition was right and that her team building exercises were working! She could almost burst from happiness.

"Yeah. That sure is great babe... but are you sure them becoming friends is a good idea? We all know that Alastor wants nothing more than power."

"What? No. Vaggie it's fine. Alastor wouldn't use my dad like that. Even if he tried, my dad is smarter than most people give him credit for. And is powerful enough to handle himself."

"Then why are they going off in private with serious looks on their faces?"

The two girls shared a look, wondering if they should follow the two demons. Just in case.

~

Once alone in one of the many extra rooms, Lucifer closed and locked the door behind them. Privacy and all. He wanted to make sure Alastor would be comfortable.

"What made you change your mind?" While waiting for his answer, not wanting to rush the Overlord, the fallen angel started to set the mood in the room.

"I... have been thinking about what you said. Between that and being subjected to dear Charlie's affections with her other half... It all has me quite curious."

Turning to face the devil, Alastor was surprised by the new additions. There was a fireplace and candles all around the room, lit, and giving off a dim yet cozy light. A furry rug was laid down in front of the fireplace and sat in the middle of it was Lucifer. He looked... stunning.

Gone was his jacket leaving him in his white button down, a few of the buttons undone. His ridiculous hat was also missing, allowing the usually slicked back golden locks to fall in his face. The light of the flames bouncing off him really tied it all together, reminding Alastor that this small, depressed man had once been a happy and graceful angel.

"What... is all of this?"

"I figured I'd try and set the mood. You know, try and make it special and memorial. In a good way."

This man... honestly. Alastor never knew what to think of him. Taking a seat next to Lucifer, the radio demon tried to calm himself. There was nothing to be scared or nervous about. It was just him and Lucifer. Then why was his heart beating so quickly?

"Hey. Al. It's okay. We don't have to do this." 

~

"The door is locked. What could they be doing in there?"

"The lights don't seem to be on- is that fire?!"

"What?!" Pulling out her keys, Charlie fumbled a bit, almost dropping them in the process, and quickly unlocked the door. Afraid of what she'd find, Charlie flung the door open and let out a loud and long happy squeal at what greeted her.

There was no disaster. No mess. No fighting. It was just her dad and Alastor. Kissing! Covering her mouth to try and muffle her joyful squealing, the princess was disappointed that she had disturbed them as she watched them jump away from each other.

However, they weren't quick enough to separate before the others had come running to see what had their friend screaming. 

"Ha! I told you bitches! Now pay up!"

"Angel!"

< Previous

[sirenmoth]

Little Moments

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick x GN!Reader

Synopsis: You have Gaz have a horribly thrown together date at a safe house

CW: Fluff, domestic fluff, military talk, war mention, hurt/comfort, kinda

19:00

Late evening light filled the sky in rays, casting hues of bright oranges, pinks and reds, all blending together as the sun started to set over the horizon. You would've stopped to admire the scenery and the beauty, stopped to take in the last of burning star's warmth and drink in the peace and tranquillity as it set below the treeline. But it wasn't time for that, walking in the middle of nowhere, you were given instructions to hold down a safe house while the other three dealt with other things elsewhere. Told to wait until the team reunited to set up the base of operation.

You have no idea how long you've been walking, the trees all look the same, your legs hurt from the excessive walking on the unstable terrain, nerves on fire from all the exercise, "God, it feels like I'm doing rucks again." You mutter, breaking the silence between the two of you, disturbing the late evening birds singing their final tunes before sleep, Gaz gives a brief chuckle at your attempt at humour and small talk, slowing his pace down for you to catch up, once you reach his side he picks up his pace again.

"It does, doesn't it? Would rather do a ruck march again than this." He adds once you met his pace, continuing the hike with you beside him. "You think Cap sent us alone for a reason? I know we're good at our job, he makes that clear, but I feel like he knows something."

The suspicaion that Price knew something was always present in the back of your mind, that he knew about you two and the relationship you both carefully nuilt and nurtured, was worrying. Having a relationship with a co-worker was one thing, but having a relationship were both are in the military, let alone one of the most elite task forces in the world, was a whole other thing neither you nor Gaz are ready to face.

"I don't know, he probaly would've said something by now is he did." You reply, looking at him in your periphel vision, reaching across to his hand, intertwining your fingers with his.

The rest of the walk was completed in a deafening silence, as you enjoyed each other's company, with the previous conversation still fresh on your mind with worry. Listening to the songbird tweets fade into the croaks and chitters of the forest nightlife. Finally arriving at the location, a small cabin hidden between a few trees, you both decide to split up, with you securing the outside perimeter and Gaz securing the inside, mentally scanning and logging any advantage and disadvantage spots.

The inside of the cabin was nothing special, most safe houses weren't, with its sole purpose to keep its occupants safe and away from danger and supply them with the bare basics a human being would need to survive. Gaz places his weapon on safety mode, and leans it against a wall then removes his kevlar vest, making himself at home on the old ratty sofa in the living room, sighing heavily once his legs get to rest and the pressure is taken off them from walking so much, all too eager to relax after that hike. You follow suit and copy his actions, weapon on safety against the wall, kevlar vest off, sitting down on the sofa, side by side.

Silence once against filled the air, this time comforting, as you lay your head on Kyle's shoulder, his head leaning against yours, taking his hand against and lacing your fingers together once more, enjoying his warmth and company.

You two lived and cherished these moments, relished in the tiny pieces of domestic bliss, not knowing when it will end or be ripped from you. Romance on the Task Force was rare to come by outside the small hookups and meaningless flings, and even more rare for a chance for it to fully bloom and properly look after, being away for months on end and being busy all the time, with little room to attend dates and anniversaries, family and relationship alike, all members are estranged from their normal life in some way due to this, which is why anyone involved with the Task Force, both directly or indirectly, avoided it all together, expect Laswell. Everyone likes hearing Laswell mention the dates her and her wife go on, a small sense of normalcy they will never get.

"What's the status report?" You ask, toying and fiddling with his fingers, closing your eyes to drink in the calm.

"Standard MRE's, supplies, beddings. Y'know, the usual that's stashed in a place like this brings and offers." Kyle replied, moving closer towards you, his knee brushing against yours, "We do have ravioli MRE's though, beef, so I see that as a win."

His last remark earns a small laugh from you, causing the man to smile, beef ravioli was seen as the better choices of food out on the field, people sometimes traded things to a packet, and it was commonplace for tiny fights to happen over it. "Do I have to fight you for it?" You jest, lovingly squeezing his hand. These moments alone are something you both enjoy, just the two of you, alone and undisturbed, Kyle once mentioned he felt like he could live off these moments alone.

"If there's enough, we could have a date, a terrible makeshift romantic dinner." You laugh, the idea was outlandish right now, but not an overly bad idea. There's a time and a place and right isn't the time nor the place for such a thing, but that wasn't going to stop you from pressing forward with the idea," We can hide them from the rest of them, keep all the good food to ourselves. They won't know."

Kyle lets out a genuine, hearty laugh at your proposal, "If you want to deal with a grumpy Scotsman who won't shut up and an overly pissed off Captain, be my guest, I won't stop you."

You sign at his words, knowing he's right. Ghost is fine eating just about anything on the field, as long as it's edible, he doesn't care. Soap and Price on the other hand like having decent, or as decent as packet ration food can get, out on the field, Price says it's a 'rewards for dealing you lot of a bunch of muppets' and Soap jokes that he's 'a growing boy, I need a balanced diet' while flexing, only to get hit in the back of the head by Ghost, who tells him to shut up.

Getting up and stretching, you smile down at Kyle, "Well, you rest up pretty boy, I'm going to see if the radio works. Can't have a broken lien of communication now." Kissing him on his forehead you leave into one of the adjacent rooms, watching the sun finally set outside the window, slivers of light dance around the room as you change and check each radio frequency until you get in touch with either Price or Laswell. Once you do and state your positions and everything is accounted for and checked, you leave the radio on in case of an emergency and turn the volume up so you can hear it from the other room, and head back into the living room.

Entering the living room once against, you notice Kyle is no longer there, thinking he probably went upstairs to claim a room before the others show up, you head towards the stairs to do the same, the last thing you want is to share with anyone, unless it's Kyle. Walking by the open kitchen door, you fail to take note of what the British man has been doing in your absence.

Kyle clears his throat as you walk past, causing you to stop in your tracks and turn to him, now he has your full attention he smiles, takes your hand and states, "I have something to show you," before leading you into the rundown, and frankly probably safety hazard kitchen. There sat on the old, worn out wooden dinning table, were two neatly placed beef ravioli MRE's and the standard issue drink that came with them, laid out as best as possible, opposite each other, the scene mimicked one you would find at any fine-dinning restaurant.

Kyle stands behind you, still holding your hand, anxious but pleased with himself. "Do you like it?" He asks, looking at you with pleading eyes, trying to gauge your reaction, "We haven't had a proper date in a while your idea gave me some inspiration and I thought 'Why not'. We don't have to tell them we took them," he adds on, "I know it's not perfect."

Turning around to look at him, you place a gentle, loving hand on his check, pressing a soft kiss to his lips, "It's prefect. More than prefect, thank you." You reply, smiling as he practically melts in your hands when your words reach his ears. Kyle takes your hand and walk you over to the table, pulling out the chair facing the door out, like the 'true gentleman he is' as he says, before sitting in the chair opposite you, his facing lit up with a bright smile.

The both you talk and laugh as you eat your meal, treating this like any normal date you would have, already forgetting where you are and that you are currently on the job. Even after the food is gone as well as the drinks, you still talk, sitting at the table engrossed in your own world as you discuss recent events, work drama and where and when you should go on your next proper date once this mission is over, maybe a small corner café or a stay at home take out night. The radio screeching startles you both, Price's voice crackles from the other end of it, announcing they'll be arriving in around thirty minutes.

You get up from your seat, taking the empty food packets and bottles from the table to throw away. Gaz resorts the table to what it was and so there's no obvious signs of your little date, you share a look at the fact you both forgot you were in the middle of a mission, nonetheless you have a job to do. Gaz wraps his arms around your waist, you wrap yours around his neck, embracing in the final moments of solace and bliss before heading back into the fray.

[jenuinely-speaking]

So, @luckycharms1701 Inspired me by this It's been a rough couple of weeks. And I mean rough. And the fic I'm working on for the boys, even though is fun, is heavy in Angst (capital 'A', yes; listen, listen--I did not plan for my first fic in over ten years to be the one out of the nine that was filled with Angst, okay? Dices were rolled). Needless to say, not only did this speak to me but it full on grabbed me by the collar and crushed me in a tight bear hug until my body went "Okay." Especially Donnie's segment. It hit hard. Not only because I am that friend, but I have friend that has done this for me before. So, before I did anything else today, I had to write this out. I love your writing, Luky, and how your ideas hold sparks. So, I hope you don't mind that I wrote a little fic inspired by your Donnie segment. Disclaimer: I've never written anything for Rise before, so I hope This Donnie reads okay. I am open to critiques, as I am still getting use to the Rise characters. Note: Everyone I write is aged up to be at least in early 20s

The strained sob surprised even me when he answered, and I cursed myself for cutting off his greeting. "What's wrong? What happened." Okay, slight panic in his voice. Definitely need to calm him down (funny how that works) before anything else. "Nothing," my voice cracked and strained as my throat refused to work, fuck me, "I-I just..." Okay, deep breadths. Deep. Breadths. "Okay, I can hear you doing your breathing exercises, but I need you to tell me what's going on."

When my eyes closed, the tears finally fell as the strain in my chest let loose in anxious pain. It was all I could do not to have the full break down right then with him on the line. My lip ached as I bit it hard to stop its quivering and to keep everything at bay while I rubbed my fist against my chest in a pitiful sense of self-soothing. But most of all, this was to keep me from doubling back and saying 'nevermind'--he absolutely hates when I do that, and I have promised that I would be better. Especially in cases like this. My eyes opened slowly when he called my name. It was like they, coupled with his voice were the veil to open up my disassociation so I could at least attempt to talk.

"I'm sorry if you're in the middle of your project, I know--" I paused and flinched when he said my name once more, clipped this time. Right. I also promised that I would stop apologizing when I'd call randomly. 'If I answer, then you're not disturbing me. Stop apologizing; you're not wasting my time if I decide to give it to you.' His words from prior conversations rang clear in my mind and I backtracked to start my brain over. The tears started anew as I took in a wet breadth, "I hate asking this, but..." One more pause. I can do this. I can do this. "I really need you right now, Don. Can you please come over?"

The line was cut just as another whimpering sob escaped my throat at the end of my question. I allowed myself to finish it out and let the tears flow with a wince for only a few moments; if I let it out now, I wouldn't be able to let Donnie in when he arrived. With a few deep breadths and many, many tissues I finally moved to the front of my apartment and watched the large windows on the skylight balcony. Knowing that it would be at least fifteen minutes, I drew my knees up tightly against my chest and curled on the cushioned high-back chair. To busy my brain from anything, I searched the deep night sky for any stars that the city would allow. As always, the brightest was Venus; a forever companion in the morning and the evening, no matter the location. As I began to get lost on mentally reciting the many cultures that possessed legends surrounding the planet, a bulky silhouette appeared and startled me. Two taps came from the large window, and I scrambled over to unlock the large skylight. Before I could even hug him, let alone before he was fully inside, Donnie slung a bulky and large cloth bag from his back and into my arms. Ah, this explained his weird silhouette. Made sense. "There's a little something extra in there, as well, since we haven't been able to find your old one after your move." The slight spark in his eyes did nothing to hint on what he referred to as he closed the skylight. It drew my curiosity wild. Opting to see what he brought now instead of waiting a couple more minutes, I set the bag on the table next to the windows and pulled out the items. He waited patiently close by, nearly hovering as I unpacked his bagged presents. I didn't mind, in fact his hovering presence helped relax me further. I blinked at the first couple of items that I pulled out. A box of my favorite chocolates (not just a small one, a big one--it'll take me over a week to finish this off) and a...hold on. "...Donnie, I love you. But you know I have this movie, right?" I grinned up at him as he took CLUE out of my hands, his own grin plastered on his beak. "Ah, you may have the usual DVD copy and the digital on three separate systems, but this, my dear is the Collector's Edition. Behold," He opened the intricate designed box and turned the DVD case to show the back. I followed his finger as he read the words aloud, "Interview from the writer and director, behind the scenes on making the movie, AND behind the scenes on creating the score." He placed the DVD case back in the sleeve of the decorative box and handed it back to me, that grin of his still present with the spark in his eyes, "I've cleared my schedule for the night and set everything to DND. We can watch whatever you'd like on this, or all of it if you'd prefer." Tears welled anew in my vision, and I stole that hug from him right there. He didn't hesitate on returning it, which warmed my chest even more as he wrapped his arms around me, nuzzled his beak in my hair and churred. I finally felt myself smile with warmth; still sniffling and having anxiety pains, but there was a break.

Continue reading -> I Need You - Jenuinely - Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (Cartoon 2018) [Archive of Our Own]

[delphi-shield]

contact high // leon s. kennedy

Leon x Reader Pointless Fluff wc: ~1.5k read on ao3 this fic was just an excuse to practice dialogue. [insert kermit 'its not fucking weed you piece of shit stoner' meme here] i think getting obliterated and falling asleep on leon could fix me.

summary: You're gone. No text, no voicemail - disappeared off the face of the earth. or Leon forgets you're at a party and finally has an excuse to practice those breathing exercises his therapist recommended.

content: drugs, leon's POV, gender neutral reader. intended as post-vendetta, pre-death island leon. bro's in therapy and he hates that it's working.

The door's unlocked.

Leon's brow furrows. He stands in the doorway a moment, turning the key again just to be sure he's not falling asleep on his feet. No such luck.

He steps into the apartment and calls your name, a hint of scolding sharpening the edges. How many times has he got to remind you? "Babe, you can't leave the door unlocked. Seriously, I could be anyone."

His own voice mocks him, bouncing back off the empty halls of the apartment. He pauses, shutting the door quietly behind him. He listens for the telltale sound of your presence - your voice drifting from the back room, loud and raucous laughter on a call with your friends, the drone of your latest period drama on TV - anything.

Worry overpowers exhaustion. He doesn't think to check his phone, gets right to snooping instead. Minds like his jump to the worst case scenario first, first responder born and bred.

Start from the top. Leon lets the evidence guide him around the room. Your shoes are in disarray by the shoe rack - not as if they had been disturbed in an altercation, but in your usual, messy way. Indecision, not foul play. The blanket on the back of the couch is wadded up and left in a heap on your side. A half-empty water glass drowns in its condensation, leaves a ring that won't come out later. You’d been in a hurry, but was it forced or absent-minded?

Leon’s hand curls over his sidearm. He's not taking any chances. He's already blown his cover by calling out. Stupid, he thinks. Getting slow in his old age. He spins into the kitchen, checking corners before he checks countertops.

Your keys lay in a heap on top of the mail.

It doesn't mean anything, he tells himself. Not yet, anyway. He scans the rest of the room, looking for other traces of you. Your bag, your phone, anything. Dinner hasn't been left out. The dishes have been put up. There's no sign of a struggle anywhere. It's entirely possible you just stepped out. But at this time of night? It’s almost two in the morning. No - it must have been someone that you had trusted. He flips through every friend you’ve ever introduced him to. Every ex, every bad date –

His therapist's voice nags at the back of his mind, babbling about jumping to conclusions, about assuming the worst case scenario and turning every uncomfortable moment into an operation, clinging to control through procedure, through swift, decisive action.

Deep breath. Look for alternative, easier answers. Not everything is life or death. Taking a hammer to every problem will only break things.

He fishes his personal phone out from his jacket, flips through messages. No new texts or missed calls from you. Not encouraging. Breathe in for four, hold for seven. Breathe out for eight.

Can’t believe these stupid breathing exercises work.

He should just call you. What the hell is he thinking? If he calls and you don't answer, then he can give himself permission to panic.

The phone rings. Once. Twice. By the third time, he's already pacing back to the front door, ready to take his investigation from top to bottom again. He’s already crouched by the shoe rack, searching for anything he could have missed, when you answer.

"Hey!" Thank fucking god. It sounds like you're in the middle of a warzone, but at least you picked up. 

Not a warzone, he reminds himself. That’s laughter, not the wail of the dead and dying. He tries to speak past the lump in his throat, but the words get stuck. Breathe, he reminds himself. He tries again.

“Hey.”

The noise of the crowd dims, the latch of a door shut a little too hard - where the hell are you? 

"What's up? How was work?"

Are you serious? It’s nearly two in the morning and all you can say for yourself is how was work?

"Fine," he says, trying his best not to be curt. He presses his fingers to his temples, massages the headache away. "Where are you?"

"Jen's birthday."

Shit. That was right. You had that party. Leon marches back into the kitchen, stares at the whiteboard you had plastered to the fridge. You insisted on writing your schedule out for him. He'd thought it was stupid, at the time. He didn't need help remembering.

There it is. Your spidery handwriting haphazardly circled, confetti and noisemakers poorly drawn around it - B-DAY PARTY, 8PM

He drops his head against the fridge door, tries not to sigh into the phone.

“We talked about it last week.”

“I know.”

"I left you a note."

"Yeah, I know."

"Sorry, baby. I would have invited you but there's, like, so much weed here," you laugh. It lights his chest up with warmth - or maybe that’s relief. “In good conscience, I couldn’t invite a fed.”

In good conscience, you say. He snorts, bonks his head against the fridge again. Yeah. You’re high, all right.

“You forgot your keys.” “Fuck!” You’re pouting. He can hear it over the phone. “Sorry. Can you leave the door unlocked for me? I’ll get an Uber. Party’s kinda over anyway.”

Like hell you will. He doesn’t trust those things. A cute little thing like you, getting into a stranger’s car in the middle of the night, high off your ass?

“No, no.” He slips his shoes back on, fishes his keys from his pocket. “Send me the address. I’ll come get you.”

It’s the same roulette wheel of questions you ask him every time he offers to do something for you. Are you sure? Yes, of course he is. I don’t want to bother you. He was literally made to be bothered by you, that’s what he signed up for. Can we watch a movie? Sure, why not. He’ll probably fall asleep, but he knows you’ll beat him to it. Probably won’t even make it past the first scene.

You’re waiting for him on the curb, hands tucked into your armpits to keep warm. Your face splits into a grin when he pulls up to you. There’s that damn warmth again, spreading down his limbs. He leans over to pop the door for you. You’re a little wobbly on your feet, got him worried for a moment that you might have the spins, but you plop into the seat and kiss him in lieu of hello, and his worries evaporate.

“Goddamn,” he murmurs against your lips. Before you can give him your smug little reply, he straightens up, puts the car in gear. “You’re gonna give me a contact high. Gonna fail my drug test. Lose my job.” “Yeah, right. You could be on, like, mega-coke and they’d keep you around.”

“Mega-coke, huh? That the big new thing with kids?”

“You didn’t hear it from me.”

You babble at him the whole ride home, catching him up on the latest drama, pausing for him to interject with no, she didn’t and what a bitch at the appropriate moments. He has to fend off your encroaching hands at stop lights, knowing damn well you want more than just to rest your hand on his thigh. You laugh every time he moves your hand back to your side, your nose scrunching and the corner of your eyes creasing, and he knows there’s no staying mad at a face he’s mapped out countless times before bed, whether he was right next to you or half a world away.

By the time he pulls into the parking lot, your head has knocked against the car window, your babbling slowed. He nudges you gently, big palm splayed against the point of your shoulder.

“Want me to carry you in?” He asks, his voice low. He meant it to sound teasing, but his heart’s not in it.

You stir, fumbling with your seatbelt. “Neighbor’s are gonna see.”

“It’s almost three in the morning.” He reaches across the console and unbuckles your seatbelt for you. You pop the door open and stumble out on your own two feet before he can round the car. He settles for looping his arm around your waist, keeping you close to him.

He guides you inside, makes a teasing joke about locking the door – now, this is called a ‘lock’, you put your key in and turn it so no one can get in. That way your stuff doesn’t get stolen and your boyfriend doesn’t freak out - just to hear you grouse at him and smack his shoulder.

After making a show of locking the door, he drops you off on the couch. He presses a kiss to your hair and trots off to get you a glass of water. He can’t have been gone more than a handful of minutes, but when he returns, you’re crashed out against the arm of the couch, mouth open, snoring softly.

“Didn’t even make it to the movie,” Leon muses. He pulls you to lean against his chest and unfurls the wadded up blanket, draping it over the both of you.

The arm of the couch jams into his back at an awkward angle. He tries to shift down, but you whine and cling to him tighter. It feels like kicking a puppy. He’s going to regret this tomorrow, but he lets you rest. You’re home. That’s all that matters.

[kittytheartist]

Hi there!

Do you have ideas for Beta TeruKane??

hi Anon! ^w^

i presume you mean like the pilots? oh boyyy yes this is so fun!

so beta!Akane we got was in one of AidaIro's short stories for a competition, and in a Oneshot. beta!Teru is something we never got, only mentioned, but I could imagine what my boy Teru was like...

I'll try and keep this brief so we can get to Beta TeruKane...

Beta!Akane seemed a lot more either emotional or smirky.

Beta!Akane already seems more laid back and smiley then the now one, more open with classmates and friends.

he even stops here when he's noticed, I don't think canon Akane would stop like this, and say his hand slipped tbh

we've seen Akane go for the kill before, with the after school with Satou and Yokoo, but he isn't like this so yk

and he reacts to things differently then canon would

ALSO HE SUPER GAY!!! like this man isn't hiding anything...

Akane here after seeing a photoshop of Hatori being well....

his first reaction is "woah..." AND ISN'T APPOSED HE'S JUST IN AWE??????

his first reaction to why Aoi fell in love with Yamabuki is well....just him being him, Akane never questioned "why" she did, although he DID call Yamabuki names but well....

he said he wouldn't have minded being friends with him and that he enjoyed his company, he even stopped to hear Yamabuki out in the first place.

not to mention he wants to talk about Hatori, and how she feels about him and what she likes, tbh sounds like you're gay for the council president again Akane....

and Teru was only mentioned ONCE in the pilot and that was by Kou...

he's studying and seems plans for more in his future then our current Teru. and clearly isn't as "on top" of everything and seems more on average-ish intellect and is actually taking time to study. and he like canon asked Kou to help with the seven mysteries case, but it's not as much as a problem as in current but Teru trusted Kou more in pilot then how he is in the manga, and I can see why, Kou is a lot better and more set on his morals in the pilot...

but I can imagine beta!Teru took the happy go lucky he was on the date and 10x that, he'd be happier like how Akane seems more genuinely nice, but murderous.

but we all saw how Kou acted and seems like how he was raised. so Teru would be a BIT more uplifting when he exercises supernaturals, but if anything he'd have a blank expression contrary to Kou's expression before the roof broke beneath him. clearly the Minamoto's in pilot don't waste time, so I'm not so sure Teru's tactic Kou explained in the young exercist arc would be as present in the pilot.

basically I think he'd be like this 24/7

and his school persona, wouldn't be as fake, he'd be more

MORE THIS YK????BUT MORE HAPPY SMILE INTIMIDATING SAYING DISTURBING SHIT???

okay so we have middle school Akane + Teru getting good sleep

I think TeruKane hating each other would be more low-key, when I say that I mean they'd be more undertone. not in an indirect way, but when Akane was like this

this would be more how Akane would act tbh, and Teru would be more like how he was in the after school chapter (chapter six) or when he issued the challenge in chapter 59.

they'd be either happy go lucky "I hate your fucking guts^^" or straight faced "are you seriously trying me right now?"

Akane might get crazy looking at times (unlike canon) like when he talked about Aoi-Chan except he's mad Teru keeps interrupting his council work. Teru on the other hand ignores his antics and continues his work, but nonchalantly just making his life harder and acting like he didn't do anything wrong, and is curious on why he feels that way.

like canon they still mutually trust each other but Teru gives that smile he gave in chapter 29 when Nene leaves the council room.

Akane as much as in canon is quick to admit Teru is VERY attractive beta!Akane is more open about it, he's just gayer okay???? Akane can actually see why the school has fallen for him but will still says he's a shrewd bastard and that the school SHOULDN'T fall for him. and Beta!Akane would just give that plastered blank face we got pilot Akane wearing a lot.

Teru when he's talking about how unpleasant Akane is he'd give his sigh closed eye face I put in the images of Teru earlier.

beta TeruKane is kinda scary but also very fun ówò it can be hard to imagine some of the scenarios in canon with beta and deciding whether they'd do the same or react the same or what would be different but I LOVE canon sm idk how I could change my beloved TeruKane😭

okay I'm done ehe~ I hope this was good for you Anon~! I really enjoyed this ask tbh and was very excited about it...

[sunsetcurbed]

you showed me faith is not blind (miracles happen)

Pairing: Alex/Willie  Words: 6,242  Rating: T  Chapter Warnings: panic attack, later on a character expresses past worries about being followed Chapter: 7/11  read on AO3 

Chapter Summary:  The stares don't start until a couple hours in the next day. Everyone is too tired in the morning to be paying attention in the hallways. On the way to econ though, after meeting up with Luke and Flynn, he can see people stop and double take when he walks past, he can feel the eyes on him, hear the whispers.

(*) 

The stares don't start until a couple hours in the next day. Everyone is too tired in the morning to be paying attention in the hallways. On the way to econ though, after meeting up with Luke and Flynn, he can see people stop and double take when he walks past, he can feel the eyes on him, hear the whispers. A pressure starts building in the middle of his forehead and there's acid in his throat. Luke and Flynn notice when he starts to lag behind them, his eyes focused on the floor, even though they're not really focused on the floor because everything is kind of… blurred and hazy. He thinks he's stopped walking by this point. He can still feel the eyes on him.

"Heeey," Luke's voice sings, coming up on Alex's right. "Hey, buddy, I'm gonna grab your arm so I can take you over to the wall, okay?" Alex thinks he nods. He still feels the eyes on him. Luke gets him to the wall and presses his back against it and tells him to sit down. Alex slides down until his butt hits the ground then closes his eyes. He draws his knees up to his chest and even though he can't feel the eyes anymore, he can remember the whispers over the rushing of the blood in his head. His throat burns. "Hey, Alex," Luke says, close to Alex's ear. "I'm gonna count for you, and I need you to breathe with the numbers, okay?" He then starts in on one of Alex's breathing exercises, and Alex goes with it, even if he can't quite make it to eight on the exhale because he doesn't have enough breath and his chest burns with the lack of air. Oh, god. He doesn't have enough breath. He draws in a deep, gasping breath to fill his lungs but it doesn't feel like enough. He can't get enough—it's not enough—there's not enough—

He doesn't remember going under water, but he's drowning now. He doesn't know when he got here. He doesn't know how he got here. He doesn't know where the surface is and how to swim up to it. He feels weighted down. His limbs are heavy and—and he can't even feel his fingers. Oh, god. He can't feel his fingers. He tries wiggling them but nothing happens—nothing except an increase of noise under the water. He vaguely registers his heart beating in overtime, trying to keep up with his body. His body is trembling, of that much he's sure, but it's not disturbing the water around him, because there are no ripples, there are no waves. He's shaking but everything around him is calm.

"Alex, can you hear me?" Alex lifts his head and opens his eyes—the water got into his eyes. Either that or he's crying—to see two people in front of him. One is crouching beside him and one is standing in front of him and holding her backpack on the side that the other isn't on, blocking him from sight of anyone who might pass. Alex draws in another breath, filling his lungs as full as they'll go. "Can you hear me, Alex?" Alex looks at him. Luke. He looks up at the girl. Flynn. He nods. "Sweet. Can you tell me five things you can see?" Backpack, board, locker, garbage, orange. "Orange? Wh—oh, my hoodie, yeah. All right, four things you can feel?" Dirt on floor, wall against back, rings on fingers—didn't he not have fingers?—, shoes against toes. "Three things you can hear?" Luke's voice, desks moving around, and the front office phones ringing. "Two things you can smell?" The chemicals from the bathroom right behind them, his Old Spice deodorant. "And what about taste?"

Alex sits up straighter. "I'm good now," he says.

"Uh-uh," Luke shakes his head. "You've got one more. You're finishing this, come on. Please."

"Mint, from my gum earlier."

"Good, buddy," Luke praises. "How you feeling?"

"Like shit," he admits.

"Do you want to go to the nurse?" Flynn asks.

"No. No. He can't do anything. All he ever does is has me sit there for a few minutes and then sends me back to class anyways."

"We could go to the front office instead then," she tries. "They could call your mom or dad—"

"No," Alex shakes his head. "I don't—I don't. I don't want to bother them. I'll be fine."

"They're your parents," Flynn frowns. "You wouldn't be bothering them."

"We can just skip econ," Luke says. "Go hang out in the music room, Mrs. Harrison would let us. We've already missed the first fifteen minutes. And Mrs. Lewis would understand why we skipped too, she's chill."

"I… I couldn't…"

"Yes you could," Flynn says, "and you are. You need a break, Alex. If you won't go to the nurse and won't go to the front office, then we're doing this."

Flynn and Luke drag him across the school to the music room where Mrs. Harrison is setting up for the lesson. When Flynn explains what happened, Mrs. Harrison offers to email Mrs. Lewis and explain the situation, so Alex relaxes. She gives the three of them free reign and Alex makes his way immediately to the drums. He's exhausted, but the drums are his happy place. The drums will rejuvenate him. He starts out with a steady beat, trying to give his heart something to follow, and then starts to add on to it. Luke joins in on the guitar and then Flynn on the trumpet, and they have a small jam session, just the three of them. It almost makes him completely forget that he'd just been drowning for the better part of fifteen minutes.

He manages to make it the rest of the day without another panic attack despite all the eyes on him. His friends all walk him to class, even though he doesn't have public speaking or biology with any of them, and he's grateful for that. But by the time he makes it to the consulate that afternoon, he's still mentally and physically exhausted. It's Tuesday, so his first thing to do is therapy, and he's… not exactly looking forward to that. He is planning to ask about how to overcome his anxiety so he has a chance at being prince if he decides, but after today, he's not sure if that's even possible. But, according to his therapist it is.

"Right, we'll get to that, but you told me the other day that you think your friend Julie had a good point about your social anxiety, can you remind me what that was?" his therapist, Tessa, asks.

"Uh—she thinks, when people are looking at me with the band, or with other people, I don't get anxious, or as anxious, because I think people are perceiving me in relation to the people I'm with, and I think they're seeing me as I see the people I'm with. But when people are looking at me as me, they're looking at me how I look at myself."

"And how do you look at yourself?"

Alex snorts. "Badly?"

"What do you mean by 'badly'?"

"Just… I'm anxious, I worry about things that normal people don't worry about and I have fears that normal people don't fear and I'm wired really tight. And I'm boring—I feel like I'm not interesting and all I talk about is music, and now Beasiga, and sometimes school, and the books I'm reading which are someone else's thoughts, not mine. I have weird thoughts, like those weird fears I mentioned and just… weird things running through my head that I wouldn't want to tell other people and I constantly worry that I'm accidentally going to say one of those weird things but I also feel like people somehow know what I'm thinking anyways like they can read my mind? And then I can be mean to good people, like when I met my grandma I just… I ran out on her and I didn't even give her a chance, y'know? And I make snarky comments at my friends sometimes that sometimes can cross a line and I don't mean to, I just… I don't have as much patience as I feel like everyone else has? And I'm gay, which isn't… that's not bad but some people think it is so sometimes I hate that I am, especially because my parents aren't okay with it. I say things that sometimes make me sound stupid or just… absolutely wild, and I always feel out of place, like everyone else belongs and I just don't have a reason to be there. … And my friends are such better people than me that I'm not sure how I ended up being friends with them," he says, the words tumbling from his mouth with barely any thought.

Tessa nods, and Alex wants to laugh. Anyone else that he unloaded that on would have stared at him with concern and maybe asked if he was okay, but she just. She just nods. "So you value your friends very much?"

"Very much."

"And their opinions?"

"Yes."

"And yet you question their choice to have you as a friend?"

Alex frowns. "Not… not exactly? I just… More like I don't know how I got so lucky."

"But you value their opinions."

"Yes," he says, cautious now.

"So if your friends have chosen to be friends with you, they must see something in you, much like you see something in them, meaning they think very highly of you as well. And if you value their opinion, then… perhaps you should ask their opinion on you, and put some stock in that," she suggests. "Perhaps start viewing yourself as they see you instead of… badly."

Alex frowns. All the negative thoughts about his friendships creep into his brain at her suggestion: what if they're just friends with him because they don't know how to break it off? What if they lie to him? What if they're only friends with him to use him for the band? What if they're just genuinely too nice of people that they let him stick around?

He shakes his head.

If there's one thing he knows, it's that his friends love him. For fuck's sake, Willie and him just started dating, and Willie easily could have just turned him down or walked away instead of kissing Alex. It's cruel of Alex to think so negatively of his friends, and his stomach twists with the thought of them ever finding out. They'd be hurt at his lack of trust, which is that last thing he wants.

"And what, it's that simple?" Alex asks her. "I ask my friends how they see me and then I stop having panic attacks when people look at me?"

"No, not even close," Tessa says. "That's just a starting point. No, you have to learn to recognize what's happening, realize why it's happening, and then find the coping mechanisms to reevaluate the situation in real time." Alex stares at her and tilts his head. "Take today for example," she says. "If you had these skills you would have been able to recognize you were panicking because of the staring and whispering, realize it was because you thought people were looking at you critically, and then reevaluate—tell yourself that people were looking at you because of the news articles and their stares were out of curiosity rather than judgment."

"That… makes sense," Alex says.

"Another skill would be exposure therapy, which I think you're going to be getting whether you like it or not, even if it's not exactly… monitored or traditional. But a lot of eyes are going to be on you, and while it's going to die off soon enough—they're high schoolers, they lose interest quick—, use it to your advantage. When you start to feel overwhelmed, recognize what is going on, realize why, and reevaluate the situation that you're in. And don't get frustrated if it doesn't work the first time, or even the first few times. It's a learning process, and it will take time."

He surprises himself the next day when he stops a panic attack in its tracks, needing no help from his friends. His anxiety is still there, but even when he sees a girl point and her three friends turn around and look at him, it remains only anxiety. Once that anxiety does happen to pass, it leaves him on a high, so high that he looks at Willie at lunch and asks, "you're out to the entire school, right?" and when Willie says yes, Alex kisses him. When he pulls away, Willie is absolutely fucking beaming. They kiss a few more times throughout lunch, and then in the hallway after lunch, and people are staring at Alex again but Alex thinks: people aren't staring at him to judge him, they're staring at him because he kissed Willie. And isn't that awesome? He'd stare at whoever was kissing Willie, too.

The next two school days pass uneventfully, despite all the eyes on him. He has a few close calls with anxiety attacks, but no panic attacks, and either his friends or his new coping methods are always there to keep him breathing steady. The only other noteworthy thing that happens is that his dad has actually starts speaking to him again by Thursday—no mention of Alex's coming out on Monday, though. Alex thinks he expected this, to be honest. See, his mom thinks that because she's not calling him every slur in the book or kicking him out that she's not being homophobic. She thinks that she's being supportive. She had said the other day "just because I support you doesn't mean I have to be okay with your choice" even though she… clearly did not support him. Still, she still loved him even if she didn't support him, and that's more than a lot of kids who came out to their parents got, so Alex… he dealt with it. But… his dad.

Alex knows Mike, and he knows that he's going to ignore it, and then maybe find a girl to set Alex up with. The subtle 'I'm telling myself I've forgotten about this but I haven't actually at all, I'm just pretending it never happened' classic Mike move. He's done it before, and Alex knew he'd try it in this case if given the chance, so he is hoping to get the chance to introduce him to Willie sooner rather than later. Chances are he'll stop talking to Alex again, but at least Alex will be able to be with his boyfriend without the looming threat of being set up with a girl. (He's not sure when he stopped caring about having the man he viewed as his dad in his life, but he's pretty sure it probably started the night he walked away from Alex's coming out without a word.)

When seven pm comes around Friday night and it's time for Alex and Willie's date, their first date where Alex will actually be able to kiss Willie, Alex is all too eager to hurry out the consulate's front door to Willie's Honda as it pulls up and jump in the front seat. Just—he's a little confused this time, because as he puts his bag at his feet, he notices Willie turning the keys and pulling them out of the ignition. Alex looks over at Willie.

Willie sighs. "Can we go talk to your grandma?"

Alex doesn't know how to reply, so he's left stammering out, "uh, y-yeah. Yeah! C'mon."

They both get out of the car and Alex leads him to the door. Alex watches as Willie gets patted down by security and waved through, and then grabs his hand to take him back to the library where he had just been with his grandmother. He hopes she's still there.

Thankfully, she is, and when they reach the library, she looks up from her book. Her eyes widen. "Alexander! I thought you'd left. And who is this?"

"I'm Willie, ma'am—er, Your Majesty," Willie greets, stepping forward without thought. Only Alex's hold on his hand keeps Willie from going any further ahead.

His grandmother gets up and walks over to them. "Oh, you're Alexander's friend—" she dips her eyes down to their hands "—boyfriend?" Willie nods. "No need for the formalities, dear. Louisa is fine. William, you said your name was?"

"Uh, Willie."

"Willie," she repeats back. "I'm thankful to meet you."

"Me too," Willie nods. "But there's, uh, there's actually a reason?" Alex tightens his grip on Willie's hand. Willie squeeze's back and Alex isn't sure if it's reassurance or if it's grounding Willie.

"Oh?"

"Yeah," Willie nods. "I wanted to talk to you and Alex both at the same time. I might have just had Alex tell you about it, but I wanted your opinion too, so, I just—I'm sorry, can we sit?"

"Of course," she says, and motions over to the couches in the corner. "Sit wherever you'd like." The three of them migrate over and take their seats, and then his grandmother returns her attention to Willie. "You were saying?"

"I was in Hollywood this afternoon running an errand for my mom and a man approached me. He didn't approach me like a stranger though, he knew my name. Or, he said, 'Willie, right?' I didn't know him. I still don't, but—I didn't really know how to get away. I couldn't just tell him to uh… uh… go away. I didn't want to be rude. And we were in public, so I wasn't in danger," Willie says this with a squeeze of his hand, and Alex knows it's for him. The more Willie has been talking about the situation, the more anxious Alex has been getting. Willie clears his throat and continues. "But he started asking me some stuff about Alex, like personal stuff about who he was as a person and his family life… And then some stuff about Alex and Beasiga. He started getting… really specific about Beasiga too—like stuff that I only know because Alex has told me. I was as vague as I could be, I didn't even answer most of them, I promise. But, he was really pushy. He wanted to know, really bad, to the point where he was nearly bribing me? Something about skating the streets of Hollywood? Which, yeah he might have just said because I was literally skating the streets of Hollywood, but… It… I know there are obsessive people out there, I do, but what I don't know is how to handle them. Especially not when it comes to someone else. I know because I'm connected to Alex the things I do could be connected back to him, so I can't just… be rude to people. I mean, not that I would want to be. But, I don't know what to do in these situations."

"I'm so sorry," Alex murmurs, turning to face Willie and putting his free hand on Willie's knee.

Willie turns to look at him. "No—don't be. It's not your fault, okay?"

"Yes it is—"

Willie lifts his hand to Alex's face and brushes his thumb along his cheekbone. "No. It's not. Now be quiet. I'm here to speak with Louisa." He drops his hand and turns back to Alex's grandmother. "Do you have any… advice? on how to deal with this in the future?"

"Yes, I do," she says, "but first, was the man who approached you in a suit?"

Willie nods. "Yeah."

"Did he have a rather extravagant jacket? With crystals embedded in it?"

Again, Willie nods, this time with narrowed eyes. "Yes…"

"That was Mr. Covington, I'm afraid." Alex feels his hand clench reflexively around Willie's. Willie whips his head around to look at Alex, but Alex is focused on his grandmother. His grandmother stands up and walks over to a shelf on the far side of the library. She pulls a book off the shelf and makes her way back. "Alexander, we haven't covered the Covingtons yet, but they're a grand family, and an important family in our country's history. Beyond the Mercers, the Covingtons are one of the most respected families in Beasigan history. Thomas Covington was the main author of our Constitution."

"My mom mentioned Covington," Alex says.

His grandmother sighs. "I supposed she might."

Willie looks between them. "Okay, his family is important, but who is he?"

"Caleb Covington is next in line for the Beasigan throne should Alexander decline," his grandmother says.

"W-wait. That guy?" Willie asks. "That guy will be running the country if Alex chooses not to?"

"And he wants to," Alex mutters.

"Oh, he really wants to," his grandmother huffs, pacing back and forth in front of the coffee table. Alex would drop his jaw, but he thinks he's too shocked to even move the muscles to do that. He's never seen his grandmother lose her composure, has never even dreamed of it happening. "He wouldn't stop pestering me for weeks about it. He threatened me that he was going to contact you if I didn't do it myself. It was either force a sixteen year old boy into a role that he didn't want to be ready for, or end up having that sixteen year old boy hate me for the rest of my life because a loathsome man told him about me and didn't give me a chance to explain myself." She stops her pacing and puts her hands to her forehead. She shakes her head. She looks up at Willie through her hands. "I'm truly sorry he approached you Willia—Willie. Clearly, not only does the man lack manners, but also discretion."

"Don't be sorry," Willie says. "It's not your fault."

"Nevertheless," she sighs. She looks at Alex. "I doubt he would dare to think to approach you, but I'll gather a picture of him and have John send it to you so you can be aware of who he is. You can also send it to your other friends so they can seek to avoid him as well. Do warn them not to let him know they know who he is, though. You either, Willie. If he knows you know, he won't have any reason to refrain himself from pressing even further. That being said, you don't have anything to fear from him other than persistence. He'd never risk his standing in Beasiga—he still holds a high title even if he does not become king and he will not readily give that up. He may crave power but he already holds power and he's not a stupid man."

"You… really don't like this guy," Alex says.

His grandmother looks at him and laughs a small laugh. "Was I being obvious?"

"A bit," he smiles. "But it was good for me. Really humanized you."

"Was I not human before?"

"No, not really," he admits. "You're like, perfect."

"Oh, Alexander, I'm far from perfect," she shakes her head. "Remind me to tell you some stories about my early days of royalty with my husband sometime. Those will humanize me."

He grins. "Looking forward to it."

"Well," she says, clasping her hands together, "I don't want to keep you two here all night. Unless… is there anything else you need or want to discuss, Willie?"

"No, I'm good. Thank you so much for listening and figuring that out. It was really freaking me out, so…"

"But of course," she says, waving him off. "It's no worry at all. I'm only sorry you had to go through that. And I do hope I'll see you around more? Please feel free to stop by to say hello, or even join some of Alexander's lessons if you have the time and feel like it."

"I'll take you up on that offer, definitely," Willie says, standing from the couch. Alex gets up as well. "It was really, really nice to meet you, Louisa. Again, thank you, so much. We'll leave you to your reading now though. We'll see you around."

"Bye, Grandma," Alex says, and then tugs Willie out from the space between the couch and the coffee table. His grandmother calls out a goodbye after them and they send waves over their backs.

They're quiet on their walk through the consulate and out to the car. It still remains silent as Willie turns on the car and they get strapped in and Willie puts the car in drive, but as soon as he goes to pull into the street, Alex feels himself break.

"Why didn't you call me?" he demands.

"I knew you'd freak out," Willie says, shooting him an apologetic look. "Besides, I called my mom after, so I could talk to someone because I thought—kidnappers don't take people on phones, right?"

"You were worried about being kidnapped?!"

"Not—not really?" he shrugs. "I was more worried he was going to stalk me to get to you. So I've been pretty hyper vigilant all day. I drove twenty extra minutes before I came to pick you up today just to make sure no one was following me. No one even was following me. But… just in case."

Alex blinks. On one hand, after Willie's experience today, that's a completely understandable reaction. On the other… "I think, like, by dating me, you're getting some of my anxiety." Willie leans his head back and laughs. "No, I think it's a thing. Like, every time we kiss, a little bit of anxiety leaves me and goes into you. It's why I've been doing better lately."

Willie reaches over and puts his hand on Alex's thigh. "You've been doing better lately because you're doing better. Not because of some magic kisses."

"You saying our kisses aren't magic?"

Willie squeezes Alex's thigh, hard, and when Alex looks over, he can see Willie's cheeks darkening a shade. "I'm—I'm saying, I'm proud of you, you know that, right?"

"Oh." Alex blinks. "Hang on, how did we go from you worrying you were going to get kidnapped to you being proud of me? How is that a logical progression?"

Willie laughs again, and Alex falls back into his seat, helpless.

They end up at Chipotle, sitting in a back corner booth on the same side of the table, thighs pressed flush together, shoulders brushing as they eat their bowls and watch YouTube videos on Willie's phone. They overstay their welcome, but no one kicks them out. It's just… they're just not sure where else to go. With Alex's lessons not ending until seven and the sun setting far before then, there's not too much to do on their Fridays besides sit and talk and goof around somewhere. But then Willie has an idea and pulls Alex out to his car.

"I don't know why I'm only thinking of this now," he says as he's driving down a residential street. "It feels like the obvious answer for a Friday night hang out," he says, right as he turns into a driveway. Willie shuts off the engine and gets out of the car and Alex follows, slower.

He's never been here before, but he's pretty sure this is Willie's house. If he's right, and he realizes he is as Willie unlocks the door, then that means Willie's family is inside, or at least some of them… probably. Alex has met Willie's older sister Taylor, since she was a senior when Alex was a freshman in high school. She had driven Willie home the day they had met at the beach. After that, sometimes at lunch she'd come bug her little brother and steal a chip from him and give him trouble and she always said hello to Alex and the others. But Taylor was off at NYU now. Willie's little sister Jamie doesn't go to Los Feliz High School since she isn't in performing arts but Alex has met her in passing. Willie would drive her places when he was meeting the group, and then she'd go her own way, and they'd go theirs. But Willie's parents? Alex has never met them, not once. And now, with no preparation, he thinks he's about to.

He follows Willie inside and looks around. It's definitely Willie's house—there are pictures of him and Taylor and Jamie dotted all around what Alex assumes to be the living room. He tries not to let his eyes linger on any of them too long, not wanting to intrude on any of their family memories (though, he supposes they're displayed for a reason). Willie slips his shoes off so Alex does too, and he follows him through the house.

They slow down when they pass an archway, and Alex looks in to see a sewing machine set up, fabric flowing out of it as it hums violently. There's a woman sitting behind it, staring down at what she's working on with intense concentration. On the other side of the room is a man sat behind a computer with a gaming headset on, leaning into the computer with focus.

"Hey," Willie says casually, and the noise of the sewing machine stops. Both the man and the woman look over and smile.

"Hey," the woman greets. "You're home early. How was your day?"

"Good. Alex and I ran out of places to go, so I brought him back with me," Willie explains, throwing a thumb over his shoulder to point at Alex. The woman's eyes flick to Alex. "We're gonna go watch a movie or something."

"All right," she says. "Let us know if you need anything. Alex, it's nice to meet you."

"Uh, it's nice to meet you too," he says. And, well. Huh. That wasn't bad at all. What was scary about that?

He follows Willie again until they're into what Alex assumes is Willie's room. As soon as Alex closes the door behind him, before he even has the chance to look around, Willie is dropping his backpack on the floor and walking towards Alex. "Hey," he says, putting his hands on Alex's hips and walking Alex back until Alex's hips and back are pressed against the door.

"Hey," Alex says back. He's surprised at how cool his voice sounds when in reality his heart is trembling.

"Wanna watch a movie?"

"… not really."

"Huh," Willie huffs. He leans forward, resting all of his weight on Alex. Alex's heart isn't just trembling anymore—his insides are completely rattled. "Well what are we supposed to do, then?"

"I dunno," Alex mumbles. This time there's a waver in his voice, but his tone is still strong, his voice is still confident. He traces a hand up Willie's side and around his back. His hand comes to fall on Willie's shoulder blade, his fingers reaching to brush the area in the middle of his back. His eyes flick from Willie's eyes to his lips and then back again. "Guess we'll have to figure it out, huh?"

"I think I have monopoly around here somewhere," Willie suggests, bringing his hand up to curl around Alex's neck. Alex feels a shock go through his body. The hand slips around so Willie's got a hold on the back of Alex's neck rather than the side of it, and Willie's eyes turn dark. He uses his hand to bring Alex forward a bit, but because of their position—Willie's body pressing his to the door—it ends up just tilting Alex's head back. Willie nudges Alex's chin with his nose and grins.

"Too boring with two players," Alex says, straightening his head again and tilting it down so the few inches he has on Willie stop feeling like a barrier. It's just… he doesn't lose himself with Willie, he just… feels vulnerable, feels like he's being taken apart piece by piece only to be put back together in an even more beautiful, sensible way. He shifts his weight on his feet, moving their entire position against the door, and then slips his hand that's still by his side beneath Willie's shirt and strokes his side. He feels Willie shiver lightly beneath his fingers. "What about scrabble?"

"You're much better with words than I am, not a fair game," Willie hums, and grabs Alex's wrist to stop him from caressing his side. Alex pushes down a feeling of smug satisfaction of finally getting through to his boyfriend. Willie presses Alex's wrist against the door and pushes their foreheads together, shutting his eyes as he does so. Alex lets his fall shut as well. "How about… tic-tac-toe?"

"Hmm… no, too predictable. What about hangman?" he asks, then, limited in his options with one hand pinned to the door, curls the fingers he has resting on Willie's upper back, digging his fingers in as deeply as he can. He's not expecting that to be what makes Willie break, but it does. As soon as his fingers press into Willie's back, the other boy is diving into Alex, connecting their mouths for a frantic kiss. Alex isn't prepared for it, had been expecting Willie to come back with another suggestion, so he gasps into the kiss. Willie mimics him, parting his lips as well, and then Alex can feel Willie, taste Willie. Alex's heart pounds in his chest and his blood rushes through his veins and the symptoms of… this are so similar to the start of a panic attack but during a panic attack Alex feels like he's drowning and now… now he feels like he's flying.

Willie uses the hand behind Alex's neck to pull him away from the door as he steps backwards, knowing the layout of his room so well that even while his attention is focused entirely on Alex, he can lead Alex slowly while walking backwards until they reach the bed. At that point, Willie breaks the kiss and hops on to the bed, looking at Alex with a clear invitation, but there's also uncertainty, as if moving to a bed is somehow a huge step. And Alex supposes in a way it is. They've only ever managed kissing in a vertical position and in public, which in turn, has kept all of their kissing more… tame. Simple. Mellow. They've never gotten to be a teenage couple and just… make out. Still, it's cute that Willie has had this pause, is so obviously waiting for Alex to make the next move. So Alex does.

He climbs on the side of the bed, staring at Willie, and knee walks over to him until he has one knee on either side of Willie's hips so he's straddling him. Willie stares up at him, hair fanned along his pillows, and his face is several shades darker than usual. Alex bites his lip to stop himself from grinning, and instead leans down to bump their noses together, careful to keep their lips separated even as Willie tries to kiss him. "I like your room."

"You haven't even seen my room," Willie says, eyes flickering between Alex's eyes and his lips.

"Sure I have." He flicks his eyes to the side. "You've got blue bedding. And monopoly, somewhere."

Willie groans, scrunching his nose. "Are we really doing this again?"

"I don't know," Alex hums. "I like affecting you."

"You always do," Willie tells him. He slips a hand up and cups Alex's jaw. "Always have."

"I like being able to see it," Alex admits. "I feel like I'm always the one giving in to you. Half the time you kiss me out of nowhere and I just—I don't know how to react after. You make me stupid."

Willie grins and huffs out a laugh. Alex is so close he can feel Willie's breath wash over his face. "Half the time I kiss you out of nowhere because I'm gone on you, dude. Most of the time, me kissing you is me being affected. You probably just did something hella cute."

"Oh."

"Yeah, oh," Willie says. "Like, god, like right fucking now. 'Oh,'" he repeats with a roll of his eyes, and then surges up, locking their lips together. This time, Alex is at least a bit more prepared. He kisses back immediately and tries to take control this time. It takes Willie a minute to notice Alex's goal, so there's a bit of a battle between them—Willie leading subconsciously and Alex trying to sway it into his favor, until suddenly Willie realizes and backs down without any more of a fight. Willie relaxes back into his pillow, his hand drifts from Alex's jaw to his hip, and he brings his other hand up to slide beneath Alex's shirt to just rest on his stomach. Meanwhile Alex cards his fingers through Willie's hair, using his hold to gently guide Willie's head to where he wants it to be. He's propped up by his elbow on one side of Willie's head, so he uses that hand to play with strands of Willie's hair mindlessly. And slowly, his lips work against Willie's, and Alex wants this moment to last forever, wants to live in this feeling of being loved, being wanted, being held, being desired, being Willie's. Realistically he knows it won't last forever.

For right now, tonight's enough.

[mytwistedhome]

Pomefiore and Ignihyde when they find out you have Anorexia

Trigger warning to anyone who suffers with an eating disorder!!

I decided to write these headcanons because I've been having a really tough two weeks, and thinking of the twst boys makes me happy...

I hope this can maybe bring comfort to someone else, or at least provide some bit of entertainment. My intention is not to cause harm or trigger anyone. That is the last thing I want.

Other dorms will be coming as well! I already started working on all of them, but I just haven’t finished them. They will most likely be posted the next time I have a bad day //

One more quick thing: I will be posting requests this week! I’ve already broken several promises that I made in regards to the time I’d post, and I feel horribly guilty. I’m sorry for the wait. I know I shouldn’t tell you to expect something on a certain day and then delay it for weeks. I should be honest about my efficiency, and I am sorry.

I'm also sorry for not responding to message (this applies to all my blogs...) I see them, but then forget about them, and then cower away because I feel like I'm already too late. I hope this little apology is enough to suffice... I'll apologize properly to every person when I find the courage. I know I shouldn't be doing this to people who've been kind to me just because I feel unwell. Please know that I am very sorry, and I'm trying to be more responsible and less careless to those around me.

💜

Vil Shoenheit

So that's why your skin is so dry and you have bags under your eyes

He scolds you at first. He believes that you’re starving to get a good figure, and he tries to inform you that doing so is unhealthy and that being malnourished actually makes a person quite ugly.

As if you haven’t already heard all this before

You try to tell him that you’re not doing this to look good. At least, not anymore. Sure, it started out as a way to lose weight, but it soon became an obsession much more meaningful than beauty or weight-loss.

He doesn’t understand. Why would you deliberately hurt yourself like that? Especially when you’re aware of all these negative outcomes?

Nevertheless, he is still very worried about you

He wouldn't normally concern himself with such a personal problem, but he would feel so guilty if he just stood back and watched you whither away

So, he does, indeed, go out of his way to try and help you

He finds a psychology book about eating disorders in the library, and he reads it in its entirety

He is... quite disturbed. He never imagined that you could be suffering so badly.

He's smart enough to realize that he, himself, can't do anything to make you better

He encourages you to seek professional help, and he even searches for phone numbers you can call and therapists/counselors close by of whom you can see

You are really touched by his efforts to find help, and you promise him that you will see one of the counselors he recommended

But... several weeks go by, and you haven't done anything

Vil grows furious. Don’t you want help!?

He takes your lack of seeking help rather personally... He went out of his way to provide with the things he felt that you really needed. Don’t you appreciate that? Don’t you care about yourself? What more do you want him to do?

You try to tell him that you don’t want him to do anything, that you’ll find help when you’re ready--

Vil isn’t buying that

What does “ready” mean, anyways? When you’re already in the grave?

He’s a bit harsh on you... He points out the patches of dry skin along your neck and chest, the way the hairs of your arms always stand on end from goosebumps, the metallic taste in your mouth...

Are you happy with those things? Do you really want to live this way?

You try and try to explain to him that it’s hard to get help and go back to eating normally

It spirals into an argument...

Vil is done with this. He did what he could and got you the resources you need to begin recovery. Once you decide to get help, he will be there for you. He will be there whenever you reach out for support, comfort, or care. But, until then, don’t talk to him about it. Don’t complain about your misery until you have sought proper help. It’s your fault at this point, isn’t it?

Rook Hunt

He had noticed that you were very quickly losing a lot of weight

He was concerned, but he never imagined that the problem could be something so serious

You're actually surprised with just how much he's concerned. You thought that if there was anyone to romanticize such a disease, it would be him

But he seems to know more than you thought about such disorders

He begs you to get professional help, and he is quite a bit more pushy and earnest than Vil is...

You try to explain to him that no doctor or therapist could ever help unless you were READY and WANTED to be helped

Well, he doesn't understand why you don't want help

He's pushing and pushing you... begging you to seek a professional

You get so frustrated that you turn and leave. He just doesn't understand!

And now Rook is even more distressed. How will he ever get through to you? How can he ever help you?

Now, every time he sees you, he looks at you with such sorrow

He sadly remarks upon how your beauty is fading... and how he fears that your life may be fading as well

Your heart aches to hear such sincere worry... Your chest feels tighter than it normally does as you crumble with guilt

You promise yourself you'll get better... Just so you won't have to see Rook with a horribly sad expression whenever he passes you

You start eating more in front of him to ease his worry, which does work a little bit

You add about 400 more calories to your usual intake--enough so that your "recovery" becomes visible through the way you bounce with energy

But you stay up late at night, running laps and doing situps to burn off some of that intake

And you keep losing weight

In fact, it's worse now because your body is aching from the unfamiliar intake and exercise...

Well, at least you look better

At least you have Rook fooled

Or so you think. It'll only be a matter of weeks before he catches onto your schemes and grows so distressed once again

He tries to sit you down and have a talk with you... He just really wants you to get help

Epel Felmier

Poor Epel finds out after he witnesses you collapsing in the middle of the hallway when no one else is around

He panics and rushes to your side, trying to see what is wrong and how he can help you

You blacked out for several seconds, which is why you collapsed, but even though you have your vision back, everything is still very cloudy and you are too weak to stand up

This makes Epel panic even more

You try to calm him down, despite your weakness

"it's okay, Epel...! Just get me something to eat. Please, I need something to eat. Hurry!"

He is a bit confused, but he does what you say, and he rushes off to find you some food

While he is gone, you try to stand, but to no avail. Your stomach aches with hunger and you are cold all over. Your body just feels so miserable

He rushes back to you with an apple and places his hands on your shoulders in concern as you quickly eat it down

That apple... It's the best thing you've ever tasted, but it's gone too quickly, and your mouth waters for more as the last bites slide down your throat

Although it was small, it still gives your body such a blissful burst of energy. All your senses are ignited now that you have finally eaten something after such a long fast, and your head is hurting far less

You stand up and smile at Epel, thanking him graciously before turning to leave

Uuuhhhhh.... What was that?

You suddenly collapse on the ground and then are all better after eating a simple apple?

No way is Epel going to let you go just like that. He holds you back, demanding an explanation, for it surely seems you know quite a bit about this bizarre thing that just happened

You try to tell him it's nothing, just a strange thing that happened this one time

Well, then, how did you know how to fix it by eating something?

You quickly lie and tell him you get dizzy sometimes and fall due to low blood sugar

Well, now your story is inconsistent

He presses you for the truth, growing rather angry

His harsh tone begins to scare you, and you tell him... You tell him that, sometimes, you go days without eating, and it of course causes you to grow so weary that you faint

You watch as all the frustration quickly rushes away from Epel's face, leaving his eyes wide and mouth hanging open in shock

"That... That's really unhealthy..."

Oh, great. Not this speech again

But, it actually isn't a lecture about how this is such a "dangerous diet"

Instead, Epel pours out all his concern with a sad look upon his face

He knows that he can't do much, but he assures you that you can come to him if ever things become too tough to handle

You're touched by his offer, and you thank him for his understanding

But, now, everytime he's around, he watches you with care to see if you're doing alright and to make sure you don't fall over again

You hadn't expected him to worry this much...

If Epel ever thinks that things are getting out of hand, he will likely go behind your back to someone who can help for your sake

💙

Idia Shroud

He really wishes that he hadn't found out because now he can't stop worrying

This is the kind of thing that would just be easier to ignore and shut away from his mind

But how could he possibly ignore something as serious as this?

He keeps telling himself that this isn't supposed to be his issue

But... It is his issue, isn't it? If you ended up dying and he knew all along about your suffering yet did nothing to help, than that would mean that he aided in your death, right?

He's really starting to panic. He doesn't what you dead. Not at all

But... What is he supposed to do???

He calms himself down and tries to think

Perhaps if he built you a mechanical body that didn't need food this whole thing would seize to be a problem...

No, bad idea

Well, that will be his last resort if nothing else works...

He messages you and tries to plead with you to please just eat and take care of yourself...

You message back, explaining to him that it really isn't that simple

He decides to ask why you're doing this, and he tries to show through his words how much he really cares

You feel comfortable enough in telling him some of the reasons why you think you started, and why it's now so hard to stop and all you want is to continue with it...

Idia is happy that you were able to open up to him this much, but what is he really supposed to do with this information? He's no therapist...

Well, being vulnerable with you emotions and talking about the problem is at least one step in the right direction, isn't it?

Idia continues to try to be a source of comfort for you, while also encouraging you to seek proper help

Ortho Shroud

Oh, no... He can’t help you with this, can he?

Why can’t he help you? Why won’t you get better?

Surely nii-san programmed him with something that could help you...

Right...?

RIGHT!?

Why aren’t you better?

Why are you doing this to yourself!?

Ortho is a mess... so distressed. He can’t understand--he doesn’t have the capacity to understand such a disorder, and he is so frustrated that nothing he does is helping!

And he does everything

He exhausts himself trying to “fix your mind”

His eyes are wide, yellow irises shaking with misery

Knowing that you are willingly hurting yourself actually traumatizes him...

He can't wrap his head around such an awful mental illness. To him, it looks as though you're really trying to harm, hurt, and even kill yourself by your own accord

Something must be wrong with your brain, but he just doesn't know what!

The poor child is so upset. He's panicked and worried sick

And now you feel even worse

Sorry for ending on such a horrible note... I was originally going to have all the dorms, so Diasomnia would’ve come and saved the day, but I just didn’t finish them.

[sagebodisattva]

Practical Detachment in the Modern World

So, in wrapping up the three part series on detachment, our general overview of the philosophical concept has revealed that this particular specialty is a very difficult undertaking for mankind to accomplish. This is why I think it is more apt to be called a discipline, rather then a philosophical concept, as proficiency in detachment requires a prolonged continuous effort, the sustained practice, of which, eventually leading to adept mastery. It is fair to say that the majority of mankind's spiritual struggles all have some kind of relation to attachments. Indeed, the ego's very existence itself could be said to be an embodiment of attachment. Now, this is not to say that this makes the ego bad, or that the ego should be punished or eliminated, as an ego is just an instrumentation, but that one can utilIze the ego as a means to realize that associations with illusions are not an identity. In others words, the true self is not the ego. The recognition of this dates back thousands and thousands of years. Detachment, as release from desire and consequently from suffering, is an important principle, or even ideal, in the Bahá'í Faith, Buddhism, Hinduism, Jainism and Taoism. In Buddhist and Hindu religious texts the opposite concept is expressed as upādāna, translated as "attachment". Attachment, that is the inability to practice or embrace detachment, is viewed as the main obstacle towards a serene and fulfilled life.

Many other spiritual traditions identify the lack of detachment with the continuous worries and restlessness produced by desire and personal ambitions. So this struggle has been the case for the ego ever since the emergence of the ego; that is, as the evolution of consciousness moved from a purely instinctual operating system into self consciousness. Was this shift in consciousness an original sin? Was this development when mankind fell from grace, as some dubious theological myths would have us believe? Well, these types of judgments are unnecessary, and this in itself represents the crux of the overall problem: with self consciousness comes delusion, for to become self conscious necessarily involves the use of false constructs to establish distinctions; and these false constructs are primarily produced and sustained through ideology and the acquisition of knowledge; which thereby give rise to judgments, which in themselves facilitate attachments; that is: anxiety and suffering cultivated through a thinking process that invests a sense of well being and equilibrium in desire, of which, is the constant flux of visceral affect, such as excitement or suffering, that is dependent on perceivables behaving a specific way, accordingly to how they have been framed by the judgments. This isn't ever an issue with the instinctual operating system. Indeed, this only becomes a psychological struggle, aka suffering, with the advent of self consciousness. Without the psychological component, organisms simply navigate feelings, which are not the same thing as emotions; just as, similarly, pain is not the same thing as suffering. People seek to infuse feelings with emotions, or pain with suffering, because they don't want to admit that emotions and suffering are the result of a cognitive disturbance. That they are, in fact, self inflicted afflictions produced wholly by thinking mind narrative about what the feelings and pain mean to the persona. In other words, they are judgments on feelings, which disturb the default calm of the mind with a contrived self imposed deception.

Now some will say that pain and suffering, or feelings and emotions, go hand in hand, but I'm gonna call bullshit on that, not because it isn't the case, but because it doesn't necessarily HAVE to be the case. It's completely optional; like salad dressing.

To illustrate this point, dig this twofold story: In story A, a man on a bicycle runs over the mailman's foot. The mailman is in pain, and reacts to it. He sits down on the curb, writhing and groaning a bit, rubbing his foot, but the pain eventually begins to subside, and he thinks nothing of it. The biker apologizes and the mailman tells him not to worry about it. The mailman resumes his route. The end. In story B, a man on a bicycle runs over the mailman's foot. The mailman is in pain and reacts to it. He is also extremely angry and offended, and feels a bit embarrassed, thinking he may look foolish, or that the biker has possibly done him an injustice. The mailman feels compelled to retaliate. He ignores the pain and punches the apologetic biker in the face, knocking him to the ground, then curses him out, picks up the bicycle and smashes it down onto the concrete. As he gives the biker one last swift kick to the ribs, he screams that he fucked with the wrong one and warns him that next time he'll get it even worse. The police come. The mailman is arrested, charged and hauled off to jail, then later loses his job. The end.

Now, is there any difference between these two stories? If so, what is it exactly? If feelings and emotions go hand in hand, and pain and suffering go hand in hand, then why was there two possible outcomes to this story? Why is that, on one side of the globe, a stoic monk can get lashed with a salted whip, then wink and smile at his abuser, and buy him a beer, while on the other side of the globe, a whiny depressed middle class gothic emo teen will cry and consider suicide because a girl turned him down for the prom on the same day that they ran out of rude black floral skull print sweatshirts at Hot Topic? I'll tell you why: because there's a difference between stubbing your toe and self pity. There's a difference between experiencing an inequity in life and playing a victim as a result. There's a difference between an unconditional love that seeks to set everything free, and a desperate possessiveness that seeks to restrict and control everything in an attempt to mask jealous insecurity. The difference being, in all cases, the stark line between detachment and attachment.

Now, as said earlier, detachment has been around for quite some time, and has been a subject of significance in many different philosophies and theologies throughout the ages. And if you have an active interest in researching any of this, I would strongly recommend focusing mainly on detachment as related to Buddhism, Taoism, and Jainism, as these come the closest to being in accord with the true spirit of detachment, as opposed to Baha'i, Christianity, Hinduism, and Islam, which are worth skipping, unless it's sought as just some general background information to use as filler in your class paper, or if you are interested in learning about the perversions of the discipline, or examples of detachment being done wrong. But after you have concluded your history lesson, you may be wondering about the practical application of the discipline in the modern world. Indeed. How would such an ancient function be pragmatically employed in a contemporary setting?

Well, there are some exercises, or practices, many of which you may have already heard of, but probably never fully appreciated their deeper meaning hitherto. The most common one almost everyone is familiar with is selflessness, which gets expressed in various forms, including charity, civic duty, public service and volunteer work. But, people get this messed up in confusion mostly, because they get caught up in thinking that, what's important about all these practices, is the common good they create. And while the common good may indeed be a nice byproduct of the exercise, it certainly isn't the aim or goal of it. Selfless acts are selfless acts because they are done without any interest of a self. The motive of selfless acts isn't to attain a change in illusion... the aim of selfless acts is to reduce awareness's dependency on illusion to maintain an equilibrium.

Now, wow, did you hear that? This is a very crucial point, a key to the crux of a profound misunderstanding: the motive of selflessness isn't to change illusion, the motive is to gain independence from reliance on illusion. If you can ever ascertain a knowing of this key point, you will have unraveled much of the mystery of spiritualism. You are not here to shape, change, or rearrange illusion. You are here to learn how to discern illusion and not depend on it, no matter what tactics it employs, under pain of even death. This is, after all, already the truth of the matter, but you are apparently stuck in a dream state where you have created this delusion that insists that it is somehow otherwise. The reasons of which, is due to a construct that you attribute as a so called ego, who is seemingly FROM another construct you attribute as a so called world.

So again: Selflessness has nothing to do with the curation of illusion. Selflessness is the transformative method by which awareness gains independence from its reliance on false constructs; and this can be cultivated by dropping expectations, seeking no rewards, and focusing will and intent in the pure engagement of activities with no regard to their outcome. Now this doesn't mean reckless or evil activities, as respect and mindfulness are vital to ensure that the practices don't become more delusional utility directed towards externalizations. This is a discipline, and a discipline necessarily requires precision and mastery, and the recklessness of evil is not conducive towards this end.

This is why, even for those who are wrapped up in the apparent GOOD outcomes of selfless acts, a more bare bones application may be prudent: and this would consist of engaging in harmless nonsense.

“Huh?”

Yeah, I know, right? Isn't that something? Dr. Sage is writing you a prescription for a little harmless nonsense, because, you know, as the old adage goes:

A little nonsense now and then is relished by the wisest men.

Yes, it's so true. I love nonsense! And the practical application of such a practice would be partaking in acts that have no rational purpose or motive. Just be nonsensical. Talk gibberish. Move your body in deliberately meaningless ways. And be smart about it. You don't need the men in white coats chasing you down with butterfly nets, so do it alone. You don't need an audience to be effective. This is building up within you the propensity to not associate the doings of the ego to the desire for perceived outcomes. Once you are deft in the ways of nonsense, you will then be able to better apply yourself to selfless acts that produce neutral or good effects, still without any ulterior motives. This cultivates an even stronger mind, as it steps up the challenge for awareness to find peace and contentment in duties of purpose, still without being conditional to the cravings for outcome. This, in itself, becoming a foundation for sustenance and abundance, as a peaceful serene mind attracts without wants, whereas the greedy mind repels with it's toxic passion. Through this, you will learn great patience, which is an essential virtue, as the expression of impatience is simply an experience of anger that is fostered by frustrated desire for outcome... this makes it doubly difficult, as: with impatience, obstacles will leap to get in your path. Letting go, everything will open up to you. It seems contrary, but it isn't.

Much like the beautiful lotus flower that has its roots in the scummy muck of a mud swamp, it's long stalks stretching up to the surface of the water, where it blossoms under the bright sunshine of enlightenment, illuminated fully in all it's glory, breath taking to behold in it's simplicity and purity, beads of water easily sliding off it's pedals, much akin to the discipline of detachment.