#dream and shade share the need to constantly chew things

[ds-shade-and-shine]

DS!Dream: It’s just that lollipop sticks last longer than the head, even if they’re less flavorful. I’m thinking of paper sticks, because you can peel off the layers with your teeth or leave it there until they fall off naturally, but plastic sticks can be chewed on too or left sticking out like a cigarette. Paper straws can be eaten layer by layer over time though, so they have the edge.

DS!Error, bored: Can’t we just leave while they’re distracted?

DS!Shade, genuinely interested: But what about wooden sticks?

DS!Error: I hate you.

[stusbunker]

Dr. Emery Simmons-Winchester

Hey guys! An ask post got me thinking about my girl Emery from my Sam series For Better or Worst.

So I decided to fill out the questions about her, in case you’re interested since a lot of her background has been kept as only small glimpses due to the plot so far. Here are those questions from the ASK POST. (Since I know no one would actually send me asks, especially about OCs.)

Basics:

1. What is their gender?

Female

2. What is their sexuality?

Heterosexual

3. What is the meaning behind their name? Do they have any nicknames?

Meaning: Derived from Emmerich, which can mean brave and powerful. Also a hard, dark substance (i.e. emery boards)

Sam calls her ‘Em’ and ‘Baby’

Georgie used to call her Mama E

4. Do they have any siblings? How many? Are they older or younger?  Which sibling are they the closest with?

She has an older half brother that she isn’t close with, but that’s just because he lived across the country from her and her son.

5. What’s their relationship with their parents like? What about other relatives?

Emery loved her parents to the ends of the earth. Though her dad wasn’t always around, his parents helped raise her. She was by her mother’s side when she died from cancer.

6. What would they give their life for?

Georgie. And redemption. Though there are others that she cares for and her dedication to them will be tested deeply soon.

7. Are they in a romantic relationship? With who? How did they meet?

Is an arranged marriage romantic? I guess it depends on who you ask. She is currently married to Sam Winchester. They met via some shady dealings from one Naomi, Angel of the Lord.

8. What do they believe will happen to them after they die? Does this belief scare them?

Can I laugh at how deep we are getting in the “Basics” section of this?! Like, damn and then the next question is like a Teen Bop quiz.

Emery believes in Heaven, Hell, and Purgatory. She grew as a psychic, knowing the world as it exists on the show. She still believes the angels are on humanity’s side and are her path to forgiveness, if not salvation.

9. What is their favorite color? Favorite animal?

Emery likes rich earth tones with some gold in for accents. She looks good in just about anything though.

10. What are some of their talents/skills?

She is a medieval history professor, and an outstanding lecturer. She reads people really well, even after losing her psychic powers. She has a decent singing voice. Is an amazing mom. And when she makes up her mind to do something, she follows through. Very hard to change her mind or challenge her moral compass.

11. If they could make a mark on history, what would they like it to be?

Just that the world was better, in any small way, from her influence.

12. How old are they? When is their birthday?

She is 39, born January 16, 1981.

13. What do they do for fun?

Read. Play with her dog Bandit. Go for walks. Listen to music. She used to mess with people who didn’t know she was psychic, but nothing malicious just little things that would stump strangers. She also used to play video games with Georgie.

14. What is their favorite food? How often do they get to eat it?

Potatoes in all of their glorious forms. She also love Cajun cuisine. She isn’t much of a cook, because she never had time to go all out. But french fries are easy enough to come by!

15. What was something their parents taught them?

That no matter who you are, you have a place in this world and a job to do.

Family always comes first.

16. Are they religious?

Yes, but most of the strict devotion rose from the death of her son.

17. Where were they born?

Gary, Indiana

18. What languages can they speak? Where did they learn these languages?

Different dialects of American English. She can read Old English and Middle English from her years of study.

Latin, from high school and some college.

19. What is their occupation?

Currently a professor, formerly a part-time psychic.

20. Do they have any titles? How did they earn them?

She has a PHD in History and a Masters in Education. Dr. Simmons-Winchester if you’d like. ;)

Personality:

21. What is their favorite thing about their personality?

She appreciates her own snark, when it comes out.

22. What is their least favorite thing about their personality?

Her psychic upbringing game her a lot of empathy for others. She hates how weak that makes her seem.

23. Do they get lonely easily?

No, she keeps too busy to feel lonely. Her son was always enough for her... until she found Sam.

24. Do you know their MBTI type?

No because those tests are way too fucking long.

25. What is their biggest flaw?

Self-assigned guilt.

26. Are they aware of their flaws?

Not all of them, who is?

27. What is their biggest strength?

Her dedication.

28. Are they aware of their strengths?

Yes, she isn’t one to sell herself short.

29. How would they describe their own personality?

She would say she is smart, kind and generally tough.

30. When frightened, will they resort to “fight” or “flight”?

She isn’t one for physical violence, but she will stand up vocally. She has had to defend herself physically in the past and that cost her her son.

31. Does this character ever put somebody else’s needs before their own? Who do they do this for? How often do they do this?

Constantly, in the past it was mostly her son, but now also her husband.

32. What is their self esteem like?

Good. She owns her strengths and is aware of her shortcomings. Though she is slightly shaken from a recent rejection, but she knows better than to get too attached when there are other factors in play.

33. What is their biggest fear? How would they react to having to face it?

Failure to protect her son. She would go to the ends of possibility to save him.

34. How easily do they trust others with their secrets? With their lives?

It took almost five months of an arranged marriage for her to tell Sam about her son, his death and her side of their deal with Heaven. Though she trusts Sam, she didn’t reveal much about her past.

We’re going to have to wait and see if she can trust Sam or Cas with her life.

35. What is the easiest way to annoy them?

Talk cruelly about other people on end. Chew with your mouth open.

36. What is their sense of humor like? Give an example of a joke they would find humorous.

She has a pretty decent sense of humor. Not too dark, but definitely has a sarcastic streak. I think she would love memes, especially living with a preteen gamer, she would have seen her share. But she’s still a dorky mom, so she only shares the obvious ones with her TAs.

37. How easy is it for them to say “I love you”? Do they say it without meaning it?

Fairly easy, especially with family. Never.

38. What do others admire most about their personality?

Her strength of character and her determination to DO GOOD.

39. What does their happily ever after look like?

She hasn’t really thought about it beyond the task at hand. Keeping up her charade with Sam in order to save Georgie’s soul and Dean. They have quiet the dream life from the outside: great jobs, nice house in a good neighborhood. But none of that can last, not for them. Right?

40. Who do they trust most? Is that trust mutual?

Her mother, but she passed about two years ago. Yes.

Physical Profile:

41. What does their laugh sound like? Do they snort when they laugh? How often do they laugh?

Her voice is smoky, much like her faceclaim Rashida Jones. Her laugh can get breathy or silent if it is a really deep one. She laughs in little spells, but nothing like she used to.

42. What is their favorite thing about their physical appearance?

Her sparkling hazel eyes.

43. What is their least favorite thing about their physical appearance?

She thinks she has a big nose. But her complex is so good, she doesn’t dwell.

44. Do they have any scars? If so, what are the stories behind those scars?

Yes, she had a total hysterectomy after her mother died so she has laparoscopic scaring. She also has stretch marks from pregnancy. The biggest scars are on her left upper arm, where her son scratched her when he first shifted into a werewolf.

45. How would they describe their own appearance?

Just a 30-someting mixed girl rocking what she’s got.

46. How easily can they express emotions? How easily can they hide emotions?

She is tempered first and foremost. Being vulnerable is not something she does regularly, but she doesn’t hide the big things. They’re too much for a reason.

47.    What’s their pain tolerance like? 

She is a women of color and a single mother, her pain tolerance is insanely high because people don’t listen anyway. (yes, that’s shade)

48. Do they have any tattoos? What are the stories behind those tattoos?

She doesn’t. (Desperately trying to remember if she does now... oops?)

49. Do they have any piercings?

Just a single on both ears.

51. What is their height? Weight?

5′4″ 130lbs ish

52. What is their body type? Are they muscular, chubby, skinny, etc?

She thin, not overly fit.

53. What is their hair color? Eye color? Skin tone?

Dark brown/ Hazel/ Dark Beige

55. What is their alcohol tolerance like? What kind of drunk are they? How bad are their hangovers?

She has a fairly low tolerance for alcohol, but that’s generally because she doesn’t drink often. When she gets wine drunk she gets affectionate. The few times she has been hungover have been exhausting because she doesn’t give her self time to recover.

56. What do they smell like? Why do they smell like this? (Is it the things they’re around or a perfume they wear?)

Her natural scent is warm spices, with almost a vanilla finish. She has a jasmine perfume that makes her slightly more feminine and floral.

57. How do they feel about sex? Are they a virgin?

She hasn’t had an active sex life until she married Sam. Before that it had been a few years. No, she isn’t a virgin and this is a dumb question because it is an outdated misogynistic construct.

58. What is their most noticeable physical attribute?

Her big, bright, multicolored eyes. Then her smile.

59. What does their resting face look like? Do they have RBF?

Not exactly resting, but you get the point. Yes.

60. Describe the way they sleep.

She sleeps curled on her side, in the middle of the bed. If Sam’s already up, she is stealing his pillow to cuddle. If Sam is sleeping elsewhere, she stays to her side.

Environment:

61. Which season is their favorite season?

Summer, though she was born in the winter, she prefers it if she can function outside or at least read by the lake.

62. Have they ever been betrayed? How did it affect their ability to trust others?

Okay, yes, everyone has been betrayed. She is currently dealing with the ramifications of an unjust deal with Heaven. It’s not easy for her.

63. What is always guaranteed to make them smile?

Her dog Bandit.

64. Do they get cold easily? Do they get overheated easily?

Yes, she is a slight woman, she gets cold easily.

65. What’s their immune system like? Do they get sick often? How do they react to getting sick?

She has a solid immune system, even when she gets sick she powers through. Bad mental health days knock her down a few pegs though.

66. Where do they live? Do they like it there?

Currently living in Denver, CO with Sam and Bandit. She lived in Chicago with her son and dog previously.

67. Is their bedroom messy? What about their bathroom? Kitchen? Living room?

No, she keeps her bedroom clean because she shares it (for the most part) now. The bathroom and kitchen are always spotless. The living room is a little cluttered, but that’s generally Bandit’s toys and research she leaves out when she’s not grading in the dining room.

68. How did their environment growing up affect their personality?

She was surrounded by love. Her mom was a waitress at a diner and her paternal granddad and big mama helped raised her. She knew she had to work hard for anything to come to her and she also was psychic so she was able to sense how her family was “odd” or “wrong” depending on whose thoughts she heard. She grew up learning to respect people and kill them with kindness, or wit if she had to.

69. How did the people in their environment growing up affect their personality?

See above.

70. How do they feel about animals? Do they have any pets?

She loves animals, but is very much a dog person. Yes, Bandit, the best boy ever.

71. How are they with children? Do they have any? Do they want any?

She is amazing with kids, especially one on one. She has a son George, who would have been 13 last spring. She is unable to have more.

72.   Would they rather have stability or comfort? 

Stability. Knowing what to expect is its own level of comfort.

73. Do they prefer the indoors or outdoors?

She is generally indoors, but generally all of her active free time is spent outside.

74. What weather is their favorite? Do they like storms?

To be in, sunny and clear. She likes storms from the safety of inside and thunder more than the lightning.

75. If given a blank piece of paper, a pencil, and nothing to do, what would happen?

She would probably doodle old geometric patterns found on ancient manuscripts as a border. Possibly make a list of things that need doing or write the same word over and over again in different fonts.

76. How organized are they?

Fairly, not obsessively so.

77. What is their most prized possession?

Her PhD.

78. Who do they consider to be their best friend?

She was close with a few colleagues at her last job, a small college just outside of Chicago. But her mother was her best friend so it is hard to put that title on someone else since she lost her.

79. What is their economic situation? 

Currently upper-middle class. Previously working class struggling with medical bills.

80. Are they a morning person or a night owl?

She is not a morning person, but doesn’t stay up too late unless she has too.

Miscellaneous:

81. Are they bothered by the sight of blood?

No. Unless someone is severely hurt.

82. What is their handwriting like?

Not too neat, but generally a combination of print and cursive.

83. Can they swim? How well? Do they like to swim?

Yes, well enough to not die, she doesn’t know all the strokes or anything. Sure, but not as much as she likes sunbathing.

84. Which deadly sin do they represent best?

Oh, this is a tough one! I am going to say Envy, because though she had a great family growing up, she was still very much aware of what other people had. And their problems always seemed so frivolous.

85. Do they believe in ghosts?

Yes, she was a psychic, she spoken to spirits before.

86. How do they celebrate holidays? How do they celebrate birthdays?

She has her great-grandmother’s china that she keeps for the big holidays, Christmas, Easter, etc. She would host the cousins and aunties with her grandma and once her mom got too sick, it was harder to get everyone together. She and George would go to her Aunt Janice’s house when they could for Sunday dinner, but traffic in and out of the city was a pain during the school year.

87. What is something they regret?

Killing her son in self-defense.

88. Do they have an accent?

Not usually, she was in an academic setting for so long she doesn’t let it slip out often.

89. What is their D&D alignment?

Neutral Good, laws and those who enforce them should evolve quicker than they do.

90. Are they right or left handed?

Right.

92. Describe them as a John Mulaney gif.

93. What’s the most iconic line of dialogue they’ve ever said?

She groaned, grabbing his face in both her hands. “Fine! Asshole. But you better make it worth it.”

She was pointing a finger at his agreeing puppy dog face now.

[metaphorical-love-for-a-car]

Hell to the No-- Ben Hardy x Reader (ft. Joe Mazzello.. like, a lot)

Prompt; none this time!

Warnings; slight language, specified fem! reader

Word Count; 2k

Notes; I wrote this instead of writing the essays that are due tomorrow, so I hope y’all enjoy lol ALSO IF YA WANNA BE ON THE TAG LIST FOR FICS LEMME KNOW!! 

Growing up with Joe Mazzello was... interesting, to say the least. He was the typical older brother. The two of you would constantly bicker over the simplest things, and then you two would be up to mischief together before the day was over. There was incessant teasing between the two of you. Joe was the constant ball of energy around your home, and you always struggled to keep up with him. And yes, he was constantly screaming.

When you were young, you thought he was the coolest person-- albeit you would never admit that. He achieved the childhood dream of being famous. You were always his biggest fan. If he needed help preparing for an audition, you’d give him your full attention. You always had his back, and you knew that he always had yours. 

In a way, you made your own name for yourself. You were a photographer, a quite good one at that. You were hired by many companies for high-end photo shoots. As you started to rise through the rankings, Joe helped you out a little. He would try to convince the management to hire you for whatever film or show he was working on’s promotional photographs. Sometimes it would work, and you were always grateful for his support. 

“Joey, please, you don’t have to keep doing this.” He had somehow managed to get you hired on the set of The Pacific. Joe just scoffed at your remark, looping an arm around your shoulders. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

After that, it became pretty common for you two to work together. If you hired one Mazzello, then you might as well hire the other because you’d never hear the end of it if you didn’t. Luckily for you, the same applied to Bohemian Rhapsody. You were beyond ecstatic when you got the news. The first thing you did was call Joe, practically screaming in his ear.

You were on set, discussing some photo arrangements when you heard a familiar voice call out, “Aw, there’s my little mozzarella stick!” 

“Shut it, Francis,” you quipped before apologizing to the person you were originally talking to. You spun on your heel and immediately burst out laughing. It wasn’t the first time you had seen Joe’s curly wig, but it seemed to get bigger every time you caught a glimpse of him. He was walking with three other men. You had already met Rami, as he had been friends with Joe for quite some time. The other two were unknown to you. Sure, you could remember their names, but you had yet to formally introduce yourself to them.

“Francis?” The Brian May clone looked at you curiously. Your grin widened.

“Joey’s middle name. Isn’t it adorable?” you cooed.

“Oh, mate, that’s fantastic.” The blonde clapped Joe’s shoulder before sticking out his hand in your direction. “I’m Ben.” 

“Nice to meet you, Ben. I’m (Y/N).” Realization flooded his features. He flashed you a bright smile.

“It’s about bloody time we’ve met. Joe’s talked about you nonstop!” You raised a brow at Joe, playfully jabbing his side.

“Has he? All good things, I hope.”

“Of course,” Joe scoffed.

“Perfect, now I can tell you all his embarrassing secrets” Joe gave a dramatic gasp before moving to stand toe to toe with you. You narrowed your eyes at him, and he returned the gesture. 

“You make me vomit,” he growled.

“And you’re the scum between my toes,” you said between gritted teeth. The Little Rascals was a movie that the two of you shared a love for. You were constantly quoting it. 

After a few more moments of an intense staring contest, Rami finally stepped in between the two of you, knowing full well that the two of you would’ve gone on for forever. “They said something about doing a quick photo shoot?” Your attention snapped Rami.

“Oh, yeah! Ready to get your model on, Ahkmenrah?”

“Of course, darling! I was born ready.” You laughed at his Freddie impression before rounding the boys up, giving them directions on where to stand.

You were sitting off to the side, watching them film, when you felt someone tap your shoulder. You glanced up to see Ben. “Mind if I join you?” You shook your head, scooting over so he would have plenty of room on the small bench. The two of you watched one of the directors animatedly talk to Rami. “Hey, could I take a look at some of the pictures you took?” 

“Yeah, sure!” You picked up your work bag, which held so much stuff that it would put Mary Poppins to shame. You shuffled through your belongings before finally pulling out your laptop. You had already transferred over some of the pictures, and they just needed to be edited before they would be released. “They’re not quite done yet. I’ve still got to do some touch-ups on a couple of them.” You handed the laptop to Ben and watched his expressions as he scrolled through the pictures. 

“Holy shit. You’re really good, you know that?” You snorted, rubbing your face in an attempt to hide the blush you were sure was already spreading.

“Thanks, it took a lot of practice.” Ben handed back your laptop when someone called his name, motioning him over. A small grin graced your lips when you realized there was something new on your screen. When you looked away, Ben had opened up a blank document and typed down his number. Chewing on your lip, you made a mental note to shoot him a text some time. 

It took you a little while to finally build up the confidence to text Ben. The two of you continued to talk even after your work with Bohemian Rhapsody finished. You knew that you were rapidly developing a crush on him. Not only was he good looking and an amazing actor, but he was also the sweetest person. Ben made you smile every time the two of you talked. And, God, that accent just made your knees go weak. 

You groaned when your phone started ringing. It was just barely after seven in the morning, on a Saturday no less. You reached across the nightstand to pull your phone from the charger. You sat up and narrowed your eyes at the blinding screen. Ben was calling. “Hello?” Your voice sounded more groggy than you would’ve liked.

“Sorry, love, did I wake you?” He gave a nervous laugh. “Sometimes I forget about the time differences.” You smiled, peeling yourself away from the bed.

“No, no, it’s fine. I probably needed to get up soon anyway,” you hummed. You were about to fix yourself a cup of coffee when you heard Ben mumble something then clear his throat. “You okay?”

“I’m fine!” he assured. “I was just wondering... the Oscars are coming up, and I thought I’d ask if you wanted to be my plus one?” You froze before slowly setting down your mug. 

“Like, as a date or...” you trailed off, chewing your lip nervously.

“That’s what I had in mind, yeah.” A wide smile spread across your face. 

“I’d love to.” You felt like a lovesick yearling. You practically screeched with excitement when you ended the phone call. 

A couple of days had passed when Joe called-- in the middle of the night. You weren’t too surprised to see his name displayed across your phone. He was always calling at odd hours. “Joseph Francis Mazzello the third, to what do I owe the pleasure of your call?” 

“I’ve got an offer you simply cannot refuse! You. Me. The Oscars. Boom! You’re my plus one.” You laughed.

“Sorry, Joey. I’ve got prior commitments.”

“What? Don’t tell me you’ll be working! It’ll be way more fun hanging out with me than taking candids of countless celebrities.”

“No, I’m not working. I’ve actually got a date.”

“What’s his name, address, and social security number?”

“Joe. You know better than this. I’m not giving you any information because you’ll just scare him away. Remember Andi Gilmore, who you scared so bad that his parents started homeschooling him?”

“Hey! That wasn’t my fault,” Joe grumbled.

“Whatever you say, bro, but if memory serves correctly, you went all Pat Murray on him.”

“Your memory clearly does not serve correctly.”

You spent the next couple of weeks in a mad dash, trying to find the perfect dress to wear. It needed to be something good because there would be no shortage of pictures and videos by the end of the night. Thankfully, you were able to find one that was just right for the occasion.

Ben stood on your doorstep, nervously shifting his weight. He had been smitten since he first introduced himself to you. He hadn’t been able to get you out of his mind since you left the Bohemian Rhapsody set. Sure, the two of you talked nearly every day, but it wasn’t the same as having you beside him. When you opened the door, it felt like all the air had been pulled from his lungs. A loving smile spread across his face. “Wow. You’re beautiful.” Your cheeks pinkened.

“Thanks, you don’t look too bad yourself.” He took your hand and pressed a kiss to your knuckles. Your face turned to a darker shade of red.

“Must be the luckiest man in the world if I got you to agree to go on a date with me. Shall we?” He motioned towards the car that was parked on the curb. 

Joe kept his eyes peeled for his friends. He had found Gwilym already, but he had yet to find Ben. He was watching every car to see if the blond beauty would step out. Joe’s brows furrowed when he saw you getting out of a car. He could’ve sworn you told him you were going on a date, and he was even more confused when Ben got out of the same car. Realization hit him like a pile of bricks when Joe saw Ben put an arm around your waist. “Oh, you have got to be kidding me! Him? Seriously? I thought you had higher standards, (Y/N),” Joe shouted. You rolled your eyes at him.

“Calm down, Francis. We’re going on a date, not to a drive-thru wedding in Vegas.”

You were finally able to cross ‘attending The Oscars’ off your bucket list. It was an amazing experience, and you were so proud of everyone who worked on Bohemian Rhapsody. The movie racked up the most awards of the night, a grand total of four Oscars. You couldn’t tell who cheered louder for Rami-- you, Joe, or Lucy. When all the festivities ended and everyone started to leave, you turned to Joe and Ben. “You know what I really want right now? A jumbo-sized slushie from 7/11.” Joe’s eyes widened as he loudly exclaimed his agreement. 

The three of you went to the closest 7/11. Joe wandered around the small store while you and Ben went straight to the slushie machine. You danced in place, pouring as much of the different colored liquids you could into the large cup. “How do you think that’s going to taste once they all mix together?” Ben questioned with a raised eyebrow. You shrugged, and he stuck a finger in your cup. He scooped up a glob and ate it, humming. “Not too bad.”

“Rude!” you gasped. “Shouldn’t you know better than to stick your fingers in other people’s food? I thought you were supposed to be a British Gentleman.” You wagged a finger at him, walking towards the check out counter. You felt a pair of arms wrap around your waist.

“I’m not always a perfect gentleman,” Ben flirted. You opened your mouth to reply but was interrupted by Joe’s fake, exaggerated gagging.

“Oh, hell no. You two are so disgusting. I’ve been third-wheeling all night.” You cast him a glance, only to see that he was recording a video. 

“Aw, don’t worry, Joey! You’ve still got Cardy B!” you cooed, a smirk crossing your lips. Ben snorted, and Joe replied with a smartass comment, but that got cropped out of the video.

Tag list;

@mothermercuryy

[madfantasy]

Dear Blogging

Hello, dears, been awhile. Hope this finds you well~

A lot have happened/ still happening, I think it's going to be a long one and probably be all over the place because God I'm sorely tired.

★-I was getting ready to leave drawing for a good chunk of time, a month was what I plan to spend away from everything that had to do with it— including social media. But luckily for drawing I found a mystifying ad that spoke directly to me. " Are you an artist that creates characters and uses digital media? Join this local contest that is looking for talents to support! And guess what! We added extra time just because we believe you can do more, people!". So you can imagine me slumped on my bed, in my worst cases ever, barely awake, eyes sore from lack of sleep raising slowly as I read and reread it to make sure it wasn't a mirage. Suddenly I had a reason to live, apparently.

So I spent the last 10 days drawing like Mad, I wasn't ready, I didn't have ideas and certainly wasn't in any fitting state to do anything. But time was running, alongside it was my motivation, thankfully. I desperately needed a new pc, a reliable one. I have a couple of hundred saved up from commissions but they are hardly enough to buy a better quality than the one I already have.

I even did this excuse of a portfolio that took me ages for the contest:

https://madfantasy.wixsite.com/portfolio

Eventually, I made this; my precious Qarqa'ah and his precious Ghalli.

I sent it and finally breathed deeply. Not until I reread their rules I was a bit concerned. They say the prize is a support plan for the winner, so there aren't any actual specifications. Besides that, by applying I give away the rights for my piece, they can do anything with it basically, and it has to meet their standards, etc. They said the judging will start next month and they'll contact me if I got qualified. If I did, another month of voting than after another to declare the winners. It's a fairly big contest..

Pray for me :'

★-I was feeling detached from Severus, the last drawing of him hugging Harry and crying was a direct junction from how I was feeling in general... And one can possibly say it could have acted as an end to my Sevy art, as a goodbye.. but happy to say it's not going to be. I wasn't able to draw him at all recently. And seeing my older art of him made it worse, to be honest. I was feeling I ruined him and constantly reading around that the fandom is dying, and not seeing my favorite people around anymore was solidifying that feeling. So trying hard to fix him and sharing sketches didn't seem to have a point anymore, considering it takes me so much time to make art and my speed can’t keep up.. not to mention my seemingly unprogressive artistic direction that keeps peering at me from every angle..

But I had a dream of Severus one day, as odd and incomprehensible as dreams can be, it was amazing to see him again. He was chewing gum, that all I can safely say 😹 I can't stress how weird it was, I woke up feeling like Alice in Wonderland. I love it.

I thought maybe I should visit him where I first met him, so I watched a play-through of HP 1 PS1, it was everything I ever loved. I reread the book, & was so happy to have felt exactly the same as the very first time I wanted to get to know Sevy. Even more thrilled that I started to draw him naturally on the side of reading, without even thinking. I have a habit of pausing to draw my reaction on things I read or draw the scene I liked itself. At that moment, nothing seems to matter but putting those wonderful words I just read into a viewable form.

This, this captured moment of timeless pleasure, this what matters to me. To make these little moments to vibrate as candles, lighting in a row, one by one along the pathway, uplifting and even musing the spirit to do anything, even just to dwell in the blissful nothing, away from what heavies the hearts. Even if nobody found it so, even me. I still want to make them.

Just for funsies, I like to show you how much construction lines I need on Sevy compared to the ones on Harrison, alot. Also, you can check those doodles and more I did last night  (here) 🙊

★-On a more silly note; I have matched my medical glasses to sunglass's general shape that I like to wear- round. I don't wear them unless I absolutely have to, so it was a bit of a surprising luxury to do so. I come to quickly find that red glasses frames are unbelievably rare, leaving alone that I wanted them round. So we settled on the lighter shade— pinkish gold.

The minute I wore them, Mother started to call me Harry Potter Harbi* (My last name*), which was amusing considering that I wore round shaped glasses all the time anyway— but not transparent.

The guy who made the lenses must have showered with his perfume before, because I couldn't get the scent out of my glasses, as if it was impeded in the frame. That fondly reminded me of the times I used to make sure to spray my perfume on a tissue and slide it into the file containing my drawings. Because my favorite person at the time did showered with her perfume and every time I got her file— when we secretly switched, and she noted it felt like I was actually there with her, it was nice. (We were in different schools and whatever)

Let us hope for the best, my thoughts always my dears, with you. And thank you.

Bless your days⭐

[lily-blue]

CODE Z3RO | CODE 02

characters: BTS & Red Velvet genre: thriller, futuristic au warning: none summary: The twelve most ambitious and promising university students are welcomed in Choego, the world’s first entirely artificial intelligence-driven city, to compete for five job contracts that could change their life. But what if something goes wrong? What if they get trapped? What if the city suddenly turns against them? Can they find a way out before the countdown reaches zero? words: 4,3K tagged: @philosopher-of-fandoms​

➼ Chapter Index

Bae Joohyun looked in the mirror in the common bathroom with pure desperation in her eyes while she was trying to arrange the messy locks atop her head in a presentable manner in vain.

‘Come on! You can do this…’ she whispered under her nose out of anger when her shaky hands found the edge of the metal sink along with the support that she needed. As her long fingers clenched around the stern material, her knuckles became white from one minute to another and the girl majoring in Psychology failed to calm her ever so jittery heart. Joohyun’s chest was bouncing like crazy which meant no good as her breathing became heavy. And the fact that the first drops of sweat ran down her temple didn’t help either. She was on the verge of throwing up.

As her right shoulder crashed into the cool wall, she closed her eyes counting to three, four and five. It took all her willpower to overcome her past that seemed to haunt her ever since she’d crossed the threshold of their temporary accommodation. Just like her annoying roommates, she was willing to do anything to get one out of the five contracts the company in charge promised them, yet with every passing moment she became less and less confident that she actually had a chance. With that genius brat who had all the background knowledge this place could have ever needed and the one with bunny teeth who had been aware of the hidden cameras before that powerful woman could even mention them…

Joohyun took a breath trembling like those withered leaves that couldn’t resist the will of the storm then slid along the wall with faint sobs as she tried to whisper a little courage into the void. After all, she was a grown-up woman now and nothing like the street trash, her ex classmates had used to call her. Considering all those years when they had bullied her, it wasn’t a surprise that she felt uncomfortable sharing her bedroom with her rivals. What truly amazed her was the fact that she’d almost fallen asleep before that stupid kiddo next room had shut that damn door a bit louder than she’d supposed to.

Speaking of noises, Joohyun lifted her head up as soon as she noticed the slight change in the atmosphere. Something was off outside of the bathroom’s protecting shelter but the unmistaken sound of someone’s firm order was quiet as if it came from under heavy layers of water. She couldn’t really put her finger on the upcoming problem nor the possible solution of it that indeed was quite troublesome. 

Joohyun pinched her arm multiple times so that she could gather enough power to stand up without falling onto her knees. Dizziness still lingered in hear body when she leaned over the sink to wash her face.

The psychology student left the bathroom with fierce eyes following the noises that came from the common area perfectly halfway between the girls’ and the boys’ dorm.

‘What the heck is going on?’ she asked as her feet bumped into the threshold yet no one listened or gave her a detailed explanation of the messy situation. So lack of any better idea, Joohyun chose to head back to her room staying out of Jimin’s way who seemed quite lost with a sleepy Hoseok at his heels. The Sociology student from Seoul National clenched his jaw in fear when the girl accidentally pushed his bag out of his hand.

The Gangnam girl in her room, Sooyoung or whatever she was called, was still asleep when Joohyun’s hand reached the handle absentmindedly playing with the lock before she would have stepped inside. The girl with the cool, American name, the one that didn’t freak her out, sent her a relieved smile then rolled her eyes turning towards the nuisance drooling all over the sheets. Joohyun felt sorry for her but didn’t lift a finger to help her nor the sleepyhead.

‘Wake up! We have to leave,’ Wendy prodded Sooyoung in the ribs chewing her own lips out of frustration. She couldn’t just walk away leaving the girl behind whether or not Seokjin and his sister were right about the simulation that was supposed to start after a hearty breakfast or at least a relaxing nap. This whole situation was so out of the blue just as she expected from a competition. After all, only a handful of them would be able to sign these dream contracts of wealth and acknowledgement. It was only fair to get their chances to prove their worth.

According to Seokjin’s explanation, their first task was simple. They had to get out of the third area of the town or at least the building before the clock would hit three and the electrical grid would be turned off by the scientists watching them from afar. In a real life situation, if they hadn’t gotten out of the dorm or any other building in Choego in time, they would have stuck inside without a functional air exchange system doomed to die in suffocation. They were testing their abilities in emergency. 

‘It’s still dark outside, so please do me a favor and fuck off!’ Sooyoung murmured under her nose before she pushed the redhead further away with one of her hands. Then she turned her back on the chaos and pulled the pillow onto her face as a lame attempt of shutting out all the noises coming from the corridor. She couldn’t care less, seriously, since she was absolutely sure that there was already a contract waiting for her classy signature in the upper drawer of that smarty woman’s desk. ‘I need my beauty sleep because this face looks hella gorgeous for a reason. You should try it too instead of those cheap products you use.’

Joohyun almost burst into giggles at Gangnam girl’s sassy reply while she was packing her stuff paying extra attention to her energy bars and water bottles just in case the simulation turned out to be more tiring than they’d thought. Not to mention that there was always a slight chance of them not being able to come back to the closed area until this whole thing was over. She couldn’t be careless even though she was finally satisfied and full of confidence now that she found someone who wasn’t a real match for her. 

‘Come on! We’re teammates, don’t you remember?’ Wendy tried to reason as she pulled the blanket off of daddy’s princess throwing the soft textile onto the carpet. She put her hands onto her waist, flames dancing in her eyes, then kicked the wooden frame of the bed three times to got Sooyoung’s attention. She was scary in her own, warm-hearted way. ‘I won’t leave you here, so get your shit together and get up before I stop asking you nicely.’

After a few more grumpy moans, Sooyoung finally realized that she had no other choice left but to follow Wendy’s orders and the fact only made her already irritating personality worse as if it was possible. She changed her clothes with utter care regardless of the pressure that her roommates failed to put on her shoulders then made a high ponytail and also applied some dark blue eyeshadow just to get on their nerves. If Wendy hadn’t insisted on cooperation so badly, Joohyun would have left the room by then without regret washing over her. She had to admit, the redhead seemed to be a strong ally against the others. She needed Wendy’s fearless attitude - at least, until she didn’t find someone better.

When Sooyoung finally finished wasting their precious time with unnecessary things like searching for the world’s sweetest perfume in her flower patterned dressing case or putting a bedside lamp on the threshold to hold up the door that had constantly closed itself while she’d tried to take her bags out, she burst out of the room acting as their leader that boiled both of the girls’ blood. While the redhead’s face became a light shade of crimson, Joohyun’s nails dug crescents deep into her palms.

‘How dares she! That little piece of s…,’ she started with clenched teeth, a wide vein pulsing on her neck. She was more than furious but then she noticed a familiar object on Sooyoung’s bedside table and it cut the air out of her lungs. It was the same, neutral bracelet she had on her left wrist, the one that could open most of the doors in their accomodation along with some others outside of the building. It was more than a nice accessory which made it hard to believe that anyone - including daddy’s little princess too - would actually leave something as important as their master key behind. Yet, it was laying on the bedside table therefore Joohyun chose to take advantage of Sooyoung’s dense personality and put the accessory into her pocket with a satisfied smile playing on her lips. For the first time since they crossed the dorm’s threshold, she was happy to be in the same team as the Gangnam girl.

It took the Psychology major a whole minute to catch up with her roommates but eventually, her shoulder crashed into Wendy’s who greeted her with the same smile she had done barely twenty minutes ago. She didn’t care why the other girl was late, the only thing that mattered was Joohyun finding them in the middle of the mess. For the rest of the way, they stuck together as if they were indeed each other’s best chance although a part of Joohyun knew that without Wendy’s maternal instincts, the redhead would have never stayed by their side. As sad as it sounded, they were both useless - while Joohyun couldn’t help her win, Sooyoung was a real pain in the ass.

‘Holy Versace! Where is it? Aish. It’s supposed to be here!’ the Gangnam girl in her perfect leather jacket, ripped jeans and high heels combo cried out, lips trembling in agony. She looked devastated as if she was fighting with tears and for an ephemeral moment Joohyun almost felt sorry for her. ‘I must left it in my room. It has to be there!’ she came to a conclusion as her left fist crashed into her right palm.

Sooyoung gave her bag to Wendy paying no attention to the number of those bags the girl had already carried then turned her back on them and rushed back to her room regardless of the redhead’s opposition. If one could kill with a single glance, Miss Better Than Everyone Else would have been dead by now.

Wendy’s struggle was obvious, Joohyun could see it in her eyes. She couldn’t decide whether she should have run after her roommate or wait in one place completely clueless therefore she put her weight from one leg to another everytime she made up her mind.

‘Come on! We have to hurry,’ Joohyun cried out wrapping her fingers around the girl’s wrist at the same time as a pastel haired guy grabbed Wendy’s backpack. 

‘Thank God, I’ve found you,’ Namjoon said pulling his dumbfounded girlfriend close to his chest. He was still in his pyjamas as if he had come looking for Wendy as soon as he had gotten out of his bed and a part of Joohyun felt bitter being unable to tear her gaze away from the lovebirds. She was twenty-six, three years older than Wendy, yet she’d never had anyone who would have looked at her the way Namjoon looked at his girl.

Chewing on her lips, Joohyun couldn’t help but to consider herself as the unwanted third wheel in a cheesy relationship therefore she felt truly relieved when Namjoon took two bags out of Wendy’s hands then pulled her towards the exit. Being left behind, the Psychology major’s breathing became heavy that didn’t take her by surprise. Whenever anxiety took control over her body, the symptoms appeared. Yet, as she recognized Seokjin’s calm voice from somewhere behind her back, she had the presence of mind to go after Sooyoung. She had to tell her that she’d found her bracelet. Wendy would have been furious if she had found out that she had taken it on purpose. 

She arrived at their room’s threshold when Gangnam girl threw her blanket onto the ground finding the limited edition lipstick she’d been looking for and the fact only that she had noticed its absence before the bracelet’s pushed Joohyun to her limits. When the corridor seemed completely empty, she closed their room’s door, getting the lamp out of the way. For a few more seconds, she watched Sooyoung who smiled with satisfaction then ran out of the accommodation. 

Jeon Jungkook was one of the last candidates who reached the common area that also meant that he got the ungrateful task to check every single room looking for abandoned fellows. It sucked and was most likely a waste of time but he couldn’t have come up with a proper excuse - as Seulgi did - when Seokjin had asked him to do this little favor for him while he helped the said girl with her belongings. He had to check the girls’ dormitory since the boys’ was already empty. All this trouble for a weak girl and her weak arms.

Fixing both straps of his backpack, Jungkook turned his back on the others with an annoyed face pouting like a child who didn’t get what he wanted. If that idiot roommate of his with his lilac hair and bad attitude hadn’t left his stuff in the way making it impossible for the younger to pack his things, Jungkook would have been the first who made it outside. It was something the engineer would bet his life on unlike on Taehyung’s intentions. That guy was a mystery.

‘You better see that I’m doing this for the team,’ he cursed under his nose reminding himself of all those hidden cameras the company had installed to observe every tiny step they made. He hoped that his cooperative skill was rather an advantage than a negative point written right under his name.

He stood in front of the bathroom’s door knocking on its cool surface when one of the girls ran across the corridor without even noticing his presence. Truth to tell, Jungkook wasn’t any better either since he couldn’t put his finger on the girl’s identity. They were all the same to him with their dark eyes, slim lips and long hairs. They were his rivals, his enemies and those who couldn’t accept the cruel reality were all fools destined to lose. Like Seokjin and his little sister who warned every candidate instead of leaving them behind. If he had been in their shoes, he wouldn’t have bothered with such things.

When he didn’t get any response from the bathroom, Jungkook walked down the corridor kicking an imaginary rock as if he had been on the street near to his family’s home. They lived in the suburbs in a small rooftop house, a flickering lamp pose guiding their way after a rough day at work. Because if there was something Sooyoung was actually right about, it was this place being everything his parents couldn’t afford but Jungkook was ready to change their fate.

As his steps died in front of the double room, the boy found it amusing that its owners had spent a couple of minutes to make the beds arranging the sheets and the blankets that he’d left alone as messy as it’d become while he was sleeping.

‘What a waste of time,’ he said tilting his head to right as he swallowed an inappropriate laughter and let his hand fall back to his side. One room was down and another had left to go.

Scratching his nape out of boredom, it took him six tiny steps and two annoyed sighs to reach the next room on the opposite side of the hallway. Unlike the other, this one wasn’t exactly clean nor empty - creasy sheets on the floor, bedside lamp broken and a girl with her back leaning against the wall - but the fact that Park Sooyoung was the one playing with the handle as if she’d had all the time in the world didn’t get the boy in the mood to play the selfless teammate. He stopped only for a mere minute to check the place behind her figure through the transparent door before he continued his way back to the common area.

Sooyoung didn’t understand what was happening but one thing was for sure, she couldn’t open the damn door without her bracelet. Fucking high-tech security. And that idiot, ugly, little accessory was nowhere to be found.

‘Hello! As you can see, I’m still here! Open the stupid door!’ she screamed into the void addressing her disrespectful words to no one in particular. She was mad at the company, their programme and the simulation that had started way too early for her liking. She prefered long naps and lazy mornings over hectic tasks out of nowhere and also liked her hot americano served with cold milk and sugar before she got out of bed. If only her father hadn’t insisted on putting her onto the list of the candidates! She would have been one of their employees by now.

She snorted when a dark shadow came across her view forcing her gaze to stick on the young boy whom she had called a charity case not so long ago. His features were kind of cute although tiredness dug itself into his appearance not to mention his clothes that were too cheap for Sooyoung’s taste. She hated the idea of begging for a poor guy’s help yet she tugged on the handle with all her might to got Jungkook’s attention. As awful as it sounded, she needed him. Well, his help to get her a girl who could have opened the door to be precise.

‘Hey, you! Help me!’ she screamed over and over again until her throat went dry and the saliva started to taste like iron in her mouth. A part of her - to the Gangnam girl’s honest surprise - was eager to prove her father wrong showing him that she was capable of passing the tests yet it would have been so easy to give up, throwing a tantrum as she always did. Last summer, she’d gotten a new car after she’d cried her eyes out in public. Getting the coolest job on Earth should have been as easy as pie.

When the girl’s hand flinched, Jungkook’s sank into his pockets, his brows knitted to each other with a strange mixture of confusion and annoyance. After all those things the Gangnam girl had said, he would have rather burnt his hands than carrying her designer bags full of unnecessary items like her expensive perfumes and golden accessories. He rolled his eyes then turned his back on the girl, walking back to the common area. By the time his sneakers crossed the dining room, everyone else was outside.

Sooyoung screamed when the boy disappeared and her knees turned into jelly as she fell onto the ground. She was trembling with rage meanwhile her hands slid down the glass leaving some dirty lines behind. She couldn’t believe that no one came back to rescue her when she was everything a guy could look for. She was beautiful and wealthy. Everyone desired a piece of her time. 

‘Screw you! Screw you all!’ she whispered under her nose as the first teardrop fell onto her light blue jeans. Her knuckles became white when she clenched both of her shaking palms. The glass felt cold against her skin although Sooyoung’s forehead was burning as if desperation could have literally set her on fire.

But as it was bound to be, eventually the flames of her rage and sorrow died off followed by a couple of salty tears, tiredness sucking out all of the Gangnam girl’s energy. By the time she quitted playing with the handle, her eyes became heavy walking on the edge of falling asleep. Yet, her entire body twitched when the clock finally hit the next hour and the super modern building ran out of juice. As the silence melted into the darkness, Sooyoung felt nothing but loneliness.

Jungkook on the other hand was surrounded with people as his arm leaned against the door that had shut behind his back. He was panting although he couldn’t have been happier as he wiped the sweat off his forehead, smiling like an idiot. After all, he had done it! Regardless of Seokjin’s tiresome orders, he’d indeed completed the first phase and had gotten out of the dorm within their limited period of time. Thus unlike daddy’s little princess who had made a mockery out of his financial state in front of everyone, Jungkook was still in the game.

‘Hah! Who’s the pitiful now?’ he asked in a voice so faint that his question was barely above a whisper. He didn’t mean to be rude since that kind of behaviour wasn’t exactly his cup of tea but he hated when someone looked down on him simply because he couldn’t afford expensive clothes and fancy dinners and Sooyoung’s failure truly pleased his soul. It felt as if the universe had been in balance once again giving a little piece of bread back to those who worked hard enough to earn its kindness.

He sat down on the stairs far away from the others who were busy to find out what was this situation all about and what could have been the next task on the company’s list. If he had heard correctly, the guy in the fullcap insisted on staying in one place while the young heir of the Park family wanted to keep going. Considering the disfuncional public lighting, he personally was on Jimin’s side although Hoseok was right about the risks of an unknown area. If the scientists were measuring their abilities in emergency, sooner or later they had to make some tough decisions or else they would lose.

‘Is everybody here?’ Seokjin asked after he tousled his sister’s hair, sending her an encouraging smile. He stood up from the base of the nearest lamp pose then looked around in the dark, observing the groups that had been formed during the mess.  Other than Jungkook, Yoongi was the only one who didn’t look for unnecessary company as he was sitting on his own a few metres from the wall. He stared back at the younger with his characteristic, emotionless gaze although when their eyes finally met, he was the one who turned away.

Jungkook snorted before he leaned his head against the concrete facing the bottom of the first floor’s balcony. What could he say, even a blind person could have told that he tried to avoid Seokjin’s question on purpose.

‘Sooyoung’s still missing,’ one of the girls declared out of the blue and to Jungkook’s honest surprise, there was concern in the smooth velvet of her voice as if she had been truly worried about the gossip girl with her unbearable attitude. Putting his weight onto both of his elbows, Jungkook looked at the redhead ever so confused, brows knitted to each other with disbelief. ‘She left something in our room so she ran back and…’ she rambled and her hands were living their own lives as they fidgeted with the hem of her tee.

It didn’t take long, the boy lost his interest in no time even though his gaze stuck on the scene when Seokjin shot a disappointed glance at him. Jungkook gulped when the older managed to decipher the details and caught him red-handed. Both of his ears became tomato red the moment Seokjin’s shoulders tensed up, nails digging into his own flesh.

‘You’re right,’ Jungkook agreed on the fact that Sooyoung had gone back to her room in order to find something really precious although he truly doubted that anything in that damn place could have been more valuable than the contracts they were all fighting for. He rolled his eyes at the thought then stood up and walked towards the biggest group including Wendy and Seokjin. ‘She seemed pretty busy even asking for my help to carry her stuff.’

He stopped right in front of the girl after all it was her whom he was talking to. Then he took a deep breath as if he could have sucked some confidence out of the cool air.

‘And?’ 

‘And as you can see, she ran out of time,’ he replied as he crossed his arms in front of his chest that was bouncing like crazy. He couldn’t let a girl make him unsure of himself, he couldn’t let her put all the blame on him when Sooyoung was the one who had chosen an object over their task. Jungkook lifted his chin up with a loud snort before he continued. ‘I’m not her puppet, it’s not my problem.’

And not my fault either, a tiny voice added whispering in his head.

‘You selfish little…’ Wendy screamed pointing at the boy’s back when he was ready to leave. If Namjoon hadn’t wrapped his arms around her petite figure, she would have surely gone after Jungkook to punch him in the face.

‘He’s right,’ a deep voice said on the boy’s right and Jungkook didn’t really know how to feel about Taehyung’s statement. It was true that he felt grateful for him for taking his side but it didn’t change the fact that something was off with him. A person like the guy with the lilac hair, a person who acted all mysterious meant no good. In Jungkook’s opinion, he could have been more dangerous than the guy with his Computer Science degree and gaze as cold as ice. ‘It’s a competition. We’re better off without her.’

Taehyung’s claim was followed by dead silence. No one could find the right words to say hence no one dared to speak. And it was worse than any lecture Jungkook had ever gotten.

➼  chapter III. 

[gingers-writing]

Sharing a bed with Loki (Narrative)

This was a fantastic request idea!

Words: 2,626

Warnings: reference to sex

Summary: finally finished a request to turn my sharing a bed with Loki into an actual story piece.

Master List

Requests Open!

It all started because you couldn’t sleep, maybe you’d had too much caffeine, maybe it was fate to meet him. But you entered the living room looking for something to do, and you found him. You didn’t notice him too begin with, he was huddled in the corner of the sofa, soft emerald silk pj’s camouflaged him. But when you returned from the kitchen with a glass of water, you heard him sniffle, turning on your heels, he had his face hidden by his hand. “Loki?” You knew the shade of green, it would only look good on him. “What?” He was snappy and grumpy, like normal, but his voice cracked and crouched, struggling to keep up the harsh tone. “Can’t you sleep ever?” Is all you said and he lost it, the tears he had built a dam in front of burst, sobbing into his hands. “Let’s me help you?”

You held out your hand, you had little experience with the God, you kept your distant, felt no need to try and spent intimate time with him. His large cold hand took yours, you didn’t talk, you just pulled him along to your room. “Get comfortable on the bed, I’m going to open a window. It’s warm in here...” You complained. “You really don’t have to look after me like some child...”

Maybe you shouldn’t have giggles but you did, “I’m not looked after you like a child, I’m looking after you like a friend, now get into bed...” you placed your glass on the bedside table and began to get into bed. He was hesitant but he did it. You didn’t have to ask anything, maybe he was reading your mind, he can do that right? Yeah, he’s got magic powers, of course, he can.

“I haven’t been able to sleep for weeks, nightmare after nightmare..” He physically cringed in the bed gripping the covers, “Then let’s get some light...” You grabbed your remote that had been abandoned on the floor at some point, very low volume, but the moving pictures filled the room with a dim light that offered some strange comfort.

He stares at you for what feels like an eternity, not that you’d have told him but his legs take up most the bed. Is long legs a God thing? Maybe. You shut your eyes and turned on your side, back to him and tried to sleep, it took ten minutes before you began to drift, but you felt his cold arm around your waist, his other hand worked its way under your neck, he engulfed you like a blanket.

Best sleep he’d had I’m weeks he claimed.

The next night he came back, claimed he couldn’t recreate the conditions in his room. You let him in, set it all up, but you back your back into his chest, you want to spoon, Loki is big enough to play big spoon. “What are you doing mortal?” Giggling as you feel him try and position his hands on you in a comfortable place. “We’re spooning Loki, it’s sometimes used to help people get to sleep...” He finally settled his hand, one under your neck, one on your thigh, his breath was surprisingly warm on your neck, his ruffled hair covering most of your face during the night. You woke up in pretty much the same position, with is weird because you always twist and wriggle. But he was pressed straight into your back.

The next few nights are the same.

But three nights later, you’re in a foul mood, 100% Tony’s fault. You could kill the man! Loki came in, you had your back turned, TV on and window open, he assumed you were asleep. He laid down at got comfortable when he began to get his arms into the position you grumbled:

“what are you doing Loki?” He pouted slightly. “I’m being the big spoon,” You turned on your back to face him, “I’m not in the mood to spoon tonight...” His eyes nearly turned watery, “Spooning helps me sleep..” You never clung to anything so fast, never. Before you know it, you're tangled in his arms and both asleep, he snores but doesn’t tell him!

You got into a habit of demanding to be the big spoon, which he always gave one of two replies. “You’re too small to be the big spoon.” Or “I’m a God and you are a mortal, therefore I must be big spoon..” You normally just give his arm a slap or nibble on his knuckles enough of him to feel the need to shake you off. You break him about three days into the argument, he’s laid in bed when you return from a shopping trip, he was napping, how cheeky. Slipping your shoes off you climbed in before him and you got to be the big spoon.

When he woke up he groaned, then traced the arm around his chest back to you. “Okay, you can be big spoon every now and then...” he was grumbly, but he didn’t mean it. It might have been your shit eating grin that annoyed him.

Around the two week mark you began to cling to his chest, he is normally asleep when you climb the mountain and lay across the giant expanse he calls his chest. Then you just cling, maybe like a baby panda, but more like a koala. You began again that night, his eyes shut and his breathing had been steady for ten minutes, you get free from his arms and climb onto his chest, as you begin to cling he groaned. “that’s so annoying...”

If he meant it he would have removed you, but he didn’t, he always had a smile cracking through his frown. He loved it, you know, because when he thinks you’re asleep, his hand goes to your hand and holds it, or he’ll rub the back of your thigh.

This whole thing might have been for Loki but it sure as hell helped you, you had nightmares too. He started with this idea, your nightmares grew worse as he grew better, “I’d like to enter your mind when you have a nightmare, I can calm it down, but I’ll only do it when you want me too...” You accepted the order, you were desperate, of course, you were, the nightmares terrified you.

He did it that night, as you tossed and turned he slowly crept into your mind, soothing the storm and making the bodies vanish. He made it into something nicer, it was just puppies, but he knew you liked them. You needed him to do it less and less. But that didn’t stop him when you did need it. He was straight there for you.

You two kept your whole secret did a year, mostly because he can teleport. But he heard Natasha trying to convince you to go on a date with Steve, you didn’t get a chance to answer. “Ah, Y/N, may I have a word with you, it’s regarding my idiot brother, I believe he’s broken his TV again...” That wasn’t unusual, so you left with Loki heading towards Thor’s room until he pulled you into his.

“I would like to court you...” Is all he said, staring you straight in the eyes. You began to think, did he hear your conversation with Nat? “We’re has this come from?” He chewed his lip, you’d never seen him do that before. “I only felt it was appropriate to ask after a year, I didn’t want to seem pushy, I like to be a gentleman...” Loki might be many things, but a good liar isn’t one. “Yeah lets date, sounds fun to me...” You leant up and pecked his cheek before leaving his room returning to Nat saying you couldn’t get with Steve because you already have someone. You thought something might have changed, maybe he would explore more with his hands, and the thought gave you anxiety. But no, one hand around your stomach, one under your head, he practically lived in that position all night.

A few nights later he rolled on you, like fully on top, you woke up without any air in your lungs, upon opening your eyes a sleeping Loki was on your chest snoring. “Loki...” shaking at his arm, ”Hhmmm...” his eyes didn’t open, “Can’t breath...” his eyes shot up and he practically jumped off you. “I’m so sorry are you okay, are you injured, I can get Doctor banner, we can take you to the hospital!” You just laughed and soothed his arm, “Loki, Loki, I’m fine, you’re just heavy...” he’s actually a small wall of muscle, not that he ever lets on about it. Now each night he sits apologising to you, normally whispering ‘sorry’ or ‘forgive me’ which you already had. But, that didn’t stop him.

He got into the habit of pulling you into his chest, keeping hold of your thighs and watching your eyelids fight to stay open. When you wake up, he’s always awake first, always. He sits watching you constantly, playing with your hair and touching the exposed skin on your arms.

He still treats the team terribly, but is it a massive improvement, Thor has decided you are a good influence on his brother and you should continue to date him. You were anyway so you just ignore Thor. He treats you like a goddess, each morning he’s picked an outfit and it always looks good, better then you could do alone. He brings you food when he knows you haven’t eaten, (which is all the time) and he even watches all the terrible Midgardian TV programmes you love only a slight complaint.

When laid together in a quiet room, Loki loves to whisper in your ear, he likes watching you shiver and your hair standing on end. He would tease you about it, so you plotted revenge, he was laid half asleep, his head cuddles into your neck. You began to whisper. “Loki, God of Mischief and Trickery, you’ve been mean to me all day, now it’s my turn...” He was covered in goosebumps, twitching and bright red, very clearly aroused by the action. But that was the mean part, if he wanted relief he’d have to give himself it, he needs to learn if he’s gonna start a fight, you’ll start a war. Loki hummed pulling you on top, “you are a naughty creature...” you simply closed your eyes and laid on his chest pretending to sleep, “Y/N...” He knew you were awake, and he was using your thigh for friction. “Y/N....” he poked at your arm before huffing and pouting to see if it got your attention. Which it didn’t. He declared defeat and went to sleep with you.

Loki soon grew to love pillow talk, he would play you on his chest, still panting and tangle his hands in your already messy hair, “tell me about your family...” you groan, “Loki, now is not the time...” he nods “yeah...tell me about your dreams for the future...” pressing your head flat against his cold chest. “I always wanted to move into the countryside, get a house and have a few kids, maybe a dog and cat, some fish, live comfortably.” Loki was left questioning if he could fit into that dream. Maybe he could, maybe he wasn’t made for it. “Baby your tugging...” he looked down, his hands were fists in your hair “I apologise, my love..” releasing his hands and smoothing your hair. “How was it anyway?” You just giggle, he always does this, he’s nervous he doesn’t please you right, thinks you’re gonna run off to his brother. “It was fantastic Loki, I really loved it, don’t think I could do a third round tho...” placing a kiss on his collarbone and cuddling into his neck. You made a little ritual for each night, you lean up, kiss just cheek and whisper “I love you Loki..” before heading to bed. The nightmares soon returned, and you would kick and scream, and sometimes the team would come running in thinking Loki was doing something, only to find him trying to comfort you as you sob in your sleep, only to have him sooth you when you finally calm down. You cry into his chest and can feel yourself shaking, he just lays with you listening to what you say, when talking about them gets too much he whispers “I’ve got you, baby, it’s not real, I’m real, we are real..”

You lay listening to his heart, it’s slow beating rhythm. His cold skin, it was real, that gave you comfort. During one of them nights, he had you laid on his chest, talking about his Jötum form. “It’s the form I received from Lauy, my biological father, I can withstand the cold, freeze skin and lots of other terrifying things....” You would hum in agreement, “show me...” He raises a brow towards you. You never demanded anything from him, “well, okay...” you watched his skin turn was the pale white slowly to a baby blue then full dark blue. You ran your fingers over the patterns smiling at his cold skin. “It’s beautiful...” he seemed shocked. “That’s normally not what mortals say...” engulfing you in his arms again.

On warm nights, you put this form to good use, smiling and allowing his cold hands onto your warm body. Cuddling after sex is a must do, that little touch starved muffin loves it, he pulls you on top of him and squeezes you, he’s scared you leave. Your skin against his is that only feeling that can raise his mood. He wasn’t hugged and touched like Thor was, so he makes up for that now.

Praise is this biggest weakness, the first time you praised him he started crying in excitement. Praise started to send him wild when the relationship got serious. “I love you playing with my hair, it makes my head tingle...” he would make a conscious effort to touch your hair at all times.

When you had sex with him, he practically stopped every five minutes (much to your annoyance) and began to ask if it was good enough, and when you gave him that praise he didn’t stop till he had you screaming against the bed. “Is this okay my love? It is to your liking?” You nod ready to release another moan, “yes Loki this is fantastic!” Loki found it difficult to control excitement, definitely found it hard to explain it, he normally shows it physically. Smacking his lips against your when he’s excited, stopping and bursting into happy tears while clinging to you. His favourite is sitting you on him and repeating the action to gain praise again.

One day when looking for Loki, Thor had a strange idea to check your room, Loki wasn’t always the best at keeping his hands to himself. When checking your room, he found the two of you, tangled in each other with only the sheet to protect you both. He thought you matched well when he finally got you alone he talked to you, “your spooning sessions with Loki, they are helping him a great deal. You should continue with him...” you just gave a nod and escaped while you could. Not like you would have stopped if he asked. Loki hasn’t murdered anyone, no one has been threatened, he shows a compassion towards mortals that aren’t you, you get the title of ‘girlfriend’ from him. But he enjoys nicknames for you, “little mortal,” as much at that own is his favourite, he is known to call you “little one” claiming you are tiny and need to grow, (when if you’re tall)

He likes to annoy you!

[littlewildwolves]

Part I

It’s true that I only seem to write when a hole opens up inside of me, a sort of void that was previously filled by a person or a particular task. In my case, if I’m not deluding myself, it’s always been a person. I need something to get fixated on and then obsess over, in a way where my thoughts can not wander off too much. All my pain and all my joy is then linked to that one person while other things only exist in shades of black and white. The light is where they are and the light is where I have to go. This is something that obviously, obvious probably only to me, turns the void into a warm, comfortable cave. One that I can rest in, rest in a part of myself I always try to keep occupied and lively. It is as if I were a child keeping the lights on to keep the monsters away. This always works of course until people throw it in my face that obsession is not the kind of love they desire and that in fact, the responsibility of being the singular thing with meaning in my life is quite overbearing. So when the lights are forcibly turned off, because the person rejects me and says something demeaning about my inability to ever leave that cave, I have to refurnish the void as for some reason the place I could simply go around, is the place within myself I always go back to. Sure, there are many other things but they don’t interest me. Truly, I am not interested in an education or a job and never have been. it’s something I do, because I have to, but I don’t belong to it and it doesn’t belong to me. I will end up in a job where my lack of ambition will be just fine and although my job will possibly make me miserable, even that will be a slight bother, nothing compared to whether the person I love loves me back. And when that space opens up, because the person I love has abandoned me or rejected me, I start writing again as to fill the void. Another obsession. My writing is quite shallow in a sense that I constantly seem to write like the author of the last book I was reading. In a sense, I’m not sure a singular thing I’ve ever come up with is my own. I come across beautiful paragraphs and before I get to appreciate them, I am already thinking about how I can make them mine. How can I rip it out of these pages, rip it greedily out of the author’s hand and place it in my little cave, as something that is mine and I don’t have to share. Something I didn’t even create or came up with in the first place, it needs to be mine mine mine. That is my greatest and irredeemable flaw, there is a possessiveness to how I view beautiful things, maybe because the only things I had as a child where quite literally the ones between my hands, the ones I were already chewing on, not the toys placed in my toybox. And to own something, something immovable, is to know it won’t be gone in the morning. It’s not a mother that just leaves you in the middle of the night. It’s also not a friend that tells you they don’t like you anymore under your favorite tree. To possess something it to be sure of it. And I need to be sure of things, because nothing causes me greater, more destructive pain then being unsure about what gives my life meaning. So this is the void that needs something entirely specific. And in my case, as it happens, I’ve said it before, a person. I love people with their rooms and books and dreams. It’s as if I’m getting multiple things at the same time. I’m getting the way they make coffee in the morning, I’m getting all the places they’ve ever been to, I’m getting the street they live on, their little jokes and insight about their friends and co workers. I get an entire universe of things, something I failed to accumulate as I never leave my room and am quite indifferent to most things that happen to me. It’s a nice feeling, to have that. Yes, greedily so, to possess it. To be sure of it. At last, something to hold, something to have, something my father can’t take away, something I can not scare off. It makes my bus drives almost lovely, because I think of them driving the bus, taking the same route. They must have at some point,

[crystaiskiess]

I’m Dreaming of a Happier Christmas

Part of the Our Photo Album series - does not need to be read in order but is recommended Previous Part Series Masterlist

AO3 Link

Summary: Not the most comfortable Christmas to say the least

Authors Notes: t/w: there is a very homophobic scene in this, if that makes you uncomfortable stop reading at “his mother turned to look at phil with a smile” (dinner scene) and begin again at “they were sitting in the car park” Anyway this is the first of two Christmas stories so I’ll post that later in the month

I am taking requests for this series so if you have any please send them in! As always I strive off of kudos and comments and I love to know what you guys think so please let me know xxxx Enjoy!!!

Also there will be another part in about an hour! I’m so sorry for not posting on here till now it’s been a hectic week!!!

Phil’s stomach was in knots, he wiped his clammy hands on his jeans, it felt strange he had to admit. Today, he was finally meeting Dan’s parents, yet they had been together for four years. He understood the reasoning obviously, but it was strange nevertheless.

He found himself longing for the comfort of Dan’s hand in his, but the dagger lodged in his throat wouldn’t be relieved by his familiar hand, as Dan had dropped it as they approached the door. Looking at Dan, Phil could see he was as nervous, if not more nervous than Phil himself. After so long they could have an entire conversation through their eyes, but even without eye contact Phil could read Dan like a book. His hands quivered slightly as they rang the bell, his eyes darted around as though something would jump out at him, but most noticeable was the way Dan chewed on his lip, a habit he had almost broken until now.

The door opened and Phil was drawn out of his thoughts in a snap, the uneasy feeling creeping up his throat.

Standing in the doorway was an average heighted, older woman. Her brown hair, the exact same shade as Dan’s, was streaked with grey and framed her face in a casual bob.

Phil, watched a smile tug at Dan’s mouth, it looked fake, totally unlike the relaxed gentle smile that Phil loved so dearly. It was lacking dimples, personally Phil’s favourite part of Dan’s smile.

The obvious fakeness of it didn’t appear to bother Dan’s mother as she beamed at them.

“Daniel!” She exclaimed, pulling Dan into a hug, Phil watched awkwardly from the sidelines as Dan patted his mother on the back tensely.

She pulled him back and her eyes swept over to Phil, it felt as though they were boring into him. He felt like squirming beneath her gaze.

“Philip right?” She confirmed, Phil smiled tightly as she patted his arm gently. It was so different to his own family, that he was momentarily taken aback.

He nodded, “Just Phil,” he tried to correct her but Mrs Howell was already speaking again.

“It’s a shame you two haven’t been home in so long,” she was chattering away, clearly talking about Dan and Beatrice, Dan’s twin sister, not Phil.

“Is Beet here?” Dan asked and Mrs Howell rolled her eyes but nodded, ushering them into the house. She gave Phil the air of someone who wouldn’t take no for an answer, and was used to always getting what she wanted, while also trying to hard to seem kind and friendly. It wasn’t really a surprise to him that Dan hadn’t come home for almost five years.

Dan glanced around his family home, unwelcome memories swirling uncomfortably in his stomach and leaving a bad taste in his mouth. He could tell just from the way Phil’s hands were bent into the loops of his jeans that he was feeling tense and probably uncomfortable. It was taking all of Dan’s willpower not to take Phil’s hand in his, just to feel that familiar comfort of their fingers tangled together, but he needed to tell his parents at the same time. He couldn’t stand saying it twice.

His mother was the same as always, trying her hardest to hold the family together despite not being a kind enough person by default to properly achieve it. He tried his hardest to smile at her as though everything was fine, but just being the house made him want to run and leave. He fingers twitched involuntarily out towards Phil, desperate to hold his hand and cling to his usual comfort support.

Instead he watched Phil from a distance as he shifted awkwardly into the house.

He walked quickly over to Beet, automatically drawn to the only sense of comfort that he had left. The comfort he had always clung to in this house, she gently brushed along his middle finger. He smiled slightly, during the pressure of their schooling years, with their parents constantly breathing down their necks, young Beatrice and Dan had decided to make up their own language. Not a speaking language, but a way to speak through movements, and they still remembered it to this day.

A brush along the middle finger meant ‘Are you ok?’, one of the first things they had worked out how to ask.

Gently he poked the tip of her thumb, ‘No’. She frowned gently bumping their hips together to comfort him. With a smile he pulled her into a hug, Phil raised an eyebrow at him and he shook his head slightly. Just enough to let him know that he was okay, and not to worry.

“So Philip,” Dan’s mother turned to him and Phil jumped slightly at being addressed so directly, even after only three minutes of exposure to Dan’s mother Phil had already noticed that she was very direct in her emotions, “Where did you and Dan meet?”

He was a little taken aback by the question, the idea that his boyfriend of four years’ mother didn’t know where they met was enough to momentarily stump him.

When he managed to snap himself out of his shock, he was aware of both Dan, Bea and their mother staring at him strangely.

“E-erm sorry,” he stammered an apology, avoiding Dan’s eye contact he continued, “We met at work, I’m the receptionist at the school Dan works,” he explained.

Dan’s mother sighed happily, ushering them all into the kitchen, “Oh how wonderful! It’s always great to have a friend at work!” She exclaimed and Phil noticed Dan bite down on his lip so hard he might draw blood. He longed to pull him close and plant a kiss to his temple, or at least do anything to stop him from hurting himself, but he couldn’t. He had to admit, it hurt him just as much as it hurt Dan to hear the word friend be used in regards to them, as though the last four years meant nothing. However, it wasn’t as though he could do anything about it, this was Dan’s chance to tell his parents, not Phil’s. So he gritted his teeth and dealt with it.

“Your father will be home soon,” Dan watched as his mother bustled around the kitchen, he had missed her, but not enough to come home. In fact he still wasn’t sure if coming home would be worth it at all.

Beet looked as awkward as he felt, and he wasn’t sure what to do, so he just watched.

His mother turned to Phil, and he inwardly cringed, there was a reason Dan had rarely brought friends home and that was because his parents had a knack for interrogations and lack of social boundaries.

She begun cutting and smiled at him, “Philip, I have organised a room for you, it’s just down the hall from Daniel,” she informed them.

Dan looked nervously at Phil, he smiled tightly, “Thank you,” Phil mumbled. Dan stared at the floor, he and Phil had been living together for three years now and they’d never had to sleep in different beds anywhere they went together. Hopefully they would be able to move together once Dan had told his parents later that night.

It felt weird, the idea of being in the same place as Dan and not be sharing a bed, but he pretended it wasn’t. Dan was planning on telling his parents today anyway, so they could easily change rooms later on Phil reasoned with himself.

Dan’s mother was speaking to him again, “Are you dating anyone Philip?” She asked, as though it was a comfortable, easy question.

The question caught him off guard a little bit, first of all it was so unlike any other adult he’d ever met, nobody ever asked him so plainly about his private life unless they knew him well (see also: his mother), and secondly it wasn’t as though he could say ‘oh yeah your son’.

“Oh… yeah I am,” he mumbled, glancing sideways at Dan he was relieved to see him relatively calm. “They’re amazing, I love them more than anything,” he added and didn’t miss the light blush that crept along Dan’s cheekbones.

Dan’s mother sighed longingly, “How beautiful,” she said with a smile before rounding on Dan, “And what about you Daniel? Did you finally meet a girl?” She asked.

Phil watched as Dan bit down on his lip again and inwardly sighed, “Nope!” Dan replied overly cheerfully, “Still no girlfriend!”

The precise wording that Dan used didn’t slip Phil’s notice, no girlfriend, but maybe a boyfriend Phil couldn’t help but think.

~-~-~

One of the things Dan was dreading happened not too long later, starting with a jangle of keys and a click of the front door.

“Is that you Michael?” His mother called out from where they were all sitting in the lounge, conversation was flowing reasonably easily, but Dan could tell Phil wasn’t quite comfortable. Maybe it was because he could see the differences between ‘Normal Dan’ and ‘With Parents Dan’, which were admittedly very obvious.

“Yes Ella! Can you come and help me with the groceries?” His father replied, the same blonde hair and bushy moustache peering around the corner, “Hello kids!”

His mother rolled her eyes fondly, Dan was tempted to roll his as well, but maybe not as fondly. “I’ll go help,” she told them, standing up with a small groan, “You can stay here if you want!”

She hurried out of the room and Beet and he shared a look, they had learnt from their childhood that ‘you can stay here’ was never truly the case.

Dan indicated for Phil to follow, gently brushing their knuckles together quickly since no parents were in the room, he relished in the happy smile that covered Phil’s face instantaneously. They were, by default, a very touchy couple, to the point where all of their friends called them ‘the lovey doves’, so not being able to hold hands, or play with each other’s hair was strange and abnormal.

“You can stay here means the opposite,” he whispered in explanation, leaning into Phil’s hair gently and savouring in the intimate act he kept having to hold back.

Phil actually suppressed a groan when Dan leaned away, he just wanted two minutes of holding hands. Anything, would be fine really.

Dan’s father smiled at him, “I’m Michael,” he said sticking out his hand.

Phil introduced himself in return, taking the outstretched hand in an attempt not to be awkward.

“It’s great to meet you sir,” he greeted and Dan’s father smiled. He seemed like a quiet spoken man, someone that didn’t voice their opinions too loudly but still expected to be heard regardless. At least, that was the impression Phil got after thirty seconds of meeting, everything else was inferred from the small things Dan had told him over the years.

He could sense this might be an awkward Christmas, and he had never been more right in his life.

~-~-~

Phil raised the camera to his eye and felt his body relax slightly, this was something he could do, photography was calming and familiar.

“Move in a bit Bea,” he indicated for her to lean inwards and she followed his hand, the family smiled. Phil could see the fakeness in Dan’s eyes as he smiled, the tense hardness of his cheeks where there would usually be dimples.

There was a flash as he took the photo, he lowered the camera and passed it to Dan’s mother. She gushed over it and complimented him, he was too busy focusing on the churning of his stomach, Dan was going to tell his family now, and Phil was so scared it would go wrong.

The dinner table was the same as Dan had always remembered, tense and awkward. His father wouldn’t speak, staring at them all in a way that made Dan uncomfortable even now. His mother would attempt to fill the awkward silences with small talk, that none of them actually cared about. Beet wouldn’t speak unless addressed to, as she never knew how to speak to anyone but Dan. Except, this time there was also Phil, staring at his food and avoiding any communication possible.

His mother turned to look at Phil with a smile, “So you said you have a partner Philip?” She prompted and Phil’s head snapped up, Dan stifled a giggle at the familiar awkwardness of his boyfriend.

“Erm uh y-yes,” he mumbled, eyes wide at being spoken to.

His mother smiled and rolled her eyes at Dan fondly, “When will you find someone Daniel?” She sighed and Dan dug his fingernails into his palm under the table, it was now or never.

“I never said I hadn’t found anyone mum,” he responded and took a bite of turkey, it felt rubbery and tasteless, but that had nothing to do with his mother’s cooking.

She furrowed her eyebrows at him, “You said you didn’t have a girlfriend…” she trailed off in confusion and Dan swallowed the dry mouthful.

“Exactly, I don’t have a girlfriend,” he emphasised and it was clear his mother understood exactly what he meant as she inhaled sharply. As per usual, his father said nothing.

“O-okay…” she stammered and Dan continued to eat his meal, despite every mouthful feeling like a chore, “So what’s h-h-his name?” She stumbled over the pronoun and Dan bit down on his lip to ease the pain, it was just as hard as he imagined.

Phil hated watching Dan struggle so much, and this was probably one of the hardest parts of the whole conversation, this was the moment that Dan’s parents found out about them.

He stretched his leg out to link it with Dan’s and cheered in his head at the small smile that quirked at Dan’s mouth.

Dan’s mother was clearly trying very hard, but the idea of this tension was ridiculous to Phil, his parents were so comfortable and happy about it that he had never had to deal with any awkwardness regarding Dan.

“His name is Phil,” Dan responded, his voice clear and calm, Phil stared at his plate as though it could swallow him up as Dan’s mother gasped loudly. He was clutching his cutlery just that little bit too tightly, enough that it was digging into the palm of his hand.

Suddenly Dan’s father spoke up, and the whole conversation went from tense to furious, “Get out,” he hissed, voice laced with venom.

Phil’s head snapped up so quickly it hurt and he was staring into the eyes of a man who looked murderous. He couldn’t look away, it was as though that furious gaze had frozen him in place.

Out of the corner of his eye he could see Dan’s mouth was wide open, “W-what?” Phil stammered, the handle of the knife was beginning to hurt it was pressed so harshly into the flesh of his hand.

“You heard me,” Dan’s father was glaring daggers at Phil, “Get out of my house.” He repeated, Phil’s blood ran cold, he was shaking and he felt ready to pass out.

Both Dan and his mother spoke at the same time, “Dad!” Dan exclaimed at the same time as his mother hissed, “Michael!”

Dan’s father didn’t appear to care, he didn’t look away from Phil, and Phil still couldn’t tear his eyes away from him.

“I want him,” he jabbed his knife in the direction of Phil, “Out of my house now.”

Phil was frozen in shock, he wasn’t sure how to move, what he should do, and he still couldn’t look away from the furious man at the end of the table.

He seemed to be growing more and more angry by the second, and Phil was so terrified he had forgotten how to breathe. His heart was jumping around like a rabbit on steroids, “Why are you still here?” Dan’s father demanded and Phil had to bite back tears, “Get out of my home, get out of my son’s life!”

He felt his legs push back his chair before he could stop himself, this man had some sort of strange persuasion over Phil, the words were stabbing at his throat and rendering him speechless. All he could do was follow, Phil finally understood what Dan meant about the way his father had controlled him through his childhood.

Dan watched in horror as Phil began to push his chair back, up until that point he had been unable to say anything past yelling his father’s name. Now however, as he watched Phil actually begin to leave he was snapped out of his stupor.

“No fucking way!” He yelled, voice loud and angry as he stood up and grabbed slammed his hands down on the table, “Phil you don’t have to leave.”

“Daniel,” his mother shushed him, eyes wide in shock at his sudden outburst.

He shook his head angrily, glaring at his father with all of the anger he had repressed throughout his 29 years of life, “How dare you ask him to leave?” He spat.

“I will not have this in my house!” His father growled back, Dan had to restrain himself from shrinking back into his shell, “I want him out!”

Dan glanced at Phil and saw those beautiful blue eyes wide with fear, it felt as though someone had reached through his chest and crushed his heart, Dan’s family had done that.

Any fear he felt was smothered by Phil, he needed to protect him, “Absolutely not, if Phil’s goes anywhere I’m going with him and I will never come back.”

He watched as his mother sobbed slightly, tugging at her husband’s arm she shook her head hurriedly, “We’re not losing him Michael,” Dan heard her whisper loudly, tears streaming down her face, “Stop this.”

“I don’t want this in my house Ella!” His father retorted, and Dan actually growled, sinking back into his chair.

His father whipped his head back around to stare at him, “What don’t you want Dad?” Dan hissed, “Love? You don’t want love in your household?”

Phil’s hands were shaking, Dan and he had known that the conversation may have been an awkward one but this was so much worse than they’d ever expected.

“Have you… kissed?” Dan’s father said kissed as though it was dirty, Phil felt his skin crawl and he longed to shower and scrub at his skin to remove the awful words.

Dan was livid, Phil could see it in the way his eyes burning, his lip was curled into a sneer, “Yes Dad! We’ve kissed! A lot actually! It’s been four fucking years!”

Phil chanced a glance upwards and saw pure horror cross Dan’s father’s face, “Four years!” He screeched, Phil was crying he realised, not heavily, but soft tears were streaking down his face, wetting his cheeks, “You’ve been keeping this from us for four years,” he continued to spit.

“Do you really wonder why!” Dan was screaming and Phil couldn’t stop shaking, his hands were quivering and he wanted to run far away, but he needed Dan to come with him and he was willing to wait for him. “Look at how you’re treating us!” 

“You deserve to be treated this way, you’re both filthy freaks of nature!” The words hit Phil in the chest like a bullet. Filthy freaks of nature Filthy freaks of nature They continued to stab at him until his lungs were hollow, every breath coming out in ragged gasps. 

He was vaguely aware of a loud slam, but tears were pooling in his vision.Dan didn’t even regret it, he slammed his knife into the table so that it was jammed into the edge and lodged there. He was on his feet, his mother and father stared at him with wide eyes, Phil was crying and Beet was fuming, glaring at their parents like she was trying to curse them. 

“You can insult me,” he hissed at his parents, “You have my whole life! But never,” he ripped the knife out of the table, feeling a small sense of pride at the indent that remained there, that would always remind his parents of what they did to him, “Never, insult Phil, my boyfriend.”It was the first time he’d ever said the words in front of his parents, and the way his father reeled back was as though he had been slapped made him quake with anger, “We’re leaving,” he growled. 

Both his parents flinched as he shoved back his chair, it scratched along the floor so loudly that his mother winced. He marched around the table and his anger evaporated, not fully but enough as he looked at Phil, shaking silently and trying to collect himself. He gently lifted Phil to his feet, wiping the tears off his cheeks he pressed a kiss to Phil’s forehead, ignoring his parents behind them he whispered, “It’s okay, we’re leaving now.”It felt like someone had stabbed him to see Phil this broken up, but he stifled all the horrible emotions churning and he took his boyfriend’s hand. 

Beet stood up, “Can you drop me at the train station?” She asked Dan with a pointed look, he barely nodded but she got the message. “You don’t need to leave Beatrice,” Their father said, his normal stern voice back. However Beet just growled, her eyes flashing with unrelenting anger, “Of course I fucking do! As if I would want to stay here with you.” She marched over to Dan and Phil and they all walked out without a second glance.

~-~-~

They were sitting in the carpark after dropping Beet off when Dan finally broke. The tears streamed down his face and he gasped in pain. “Hey,” Phil shushed him gently, taking his face gently in his hands, Dan leaned into the touch instinctively, “It’s okay now!” 

Dan hiccuped softly, the tears still pouring down his face, Phil leaned their foreheads together and they just sat there. The silence was comfortable but Dan had so much he needed to say.“I’m so sorry,” he whispered when the tears finally slowed to a stop, Phil clucked his tongue, leaning away and brushing a thumb across Dan’s cheekbone. Gently wiping away the tears. 

Dan mapped his face as they lapsed back into their gentle silence, there were still tear streaks down Phil’s cheeks and his eyes were red but he was as beautiful as ever. 

“But he called you a-” Dan begun to say but Phil cut him off with a gentle kiss, it wasn’t long, just a brush of lips to remind each other that they were still here, and everything would be fine.“It doesn’t matter,” Phil assured Dan, staring into those sad, beautiful, brown eyes made him want to start crying again, but he knew that they needed one of them to be strong, “We’ll go to my house for a late Christmas. Bea can come too,” he added and Dan smiled softly, his dimple indenting his cheek. 

Phil pressed a gentle kiss to it, “I love you, and nothing - especially not your family - will ever change that,” Dan was still crying but it was soft and he was smiling, it made Phil’s heart squeeze in a mix of both happiness and sadness. “I love you too,” Dan whispered, brushing Phil’s fringe out of his eyes as though he was a delicate flower.“You’re all the family I need.”

Next Part

[dunmerofskyrim]

12

There are places in Old Ebonheart where the dead walk. At the time I didn’t know why. Nor did I question it.

In Bodram I’d seen weeds and stunted shrubs and loose masonry, and a disarrayed abandon of bones, and the bloodied bodies of the new-made dead, all made to move by ghosts. I’d seen corpses pull and claw and beat at the living til they were corpses too. I’d seen a starveling tree grow roots through a mer from below and crush the life from them with its branches. And I didn’t question it. Not out loud.

To find Old Ebonheart plagued with undead seemed no great surprise after that.

But first came the city’s outskirts. Lumberyards gone to worm-feasts, dank breeding fields for bruise-coloured fungi, banquets for foraging scribs. Saltrice terraces swallowed by silt. The lodges and huts of fishermer, collapsed now, their foundations gnawed through by rot.

Walking once, my half-ruined boots uncovered a glinting rigid something in the sucking mud. It was a Velothi windchime, hollowed from polished bone and preserved in the bog. I picked it up, blacking my already dirt-blacked hands. A long tether of braided twine spooled up from the ground dragging chime after chime from where they’d been hid. But decay and the sudden violence of my curiosity snapped the line. I gathered three of the chimes in a net bag, reckoning to wash them and polish them again.

“It wasn’t just Nords came to trade here, then,” I said to Tammunei as we carried on. “Velothi too, from off the plains. Leatherwares and bonecrafts. Nix and shalk shells..? Wasn’t aware the Vereansu were known for their crafts.”

Tammunei gestured for my attention. I followed their hand as they pointed to one of the Vereansu among us. A warrior, head shaved but for a long grey braid that hung from the back of his scalp. They led a saddle-guar, slow and careful by the reins through these fenlands, too cautious to ride.

“Herds?” I asked. “Guar and horses?”

Tammunei nodded.

But I looked at the warrior’s bow, unstrung and wrapped in resined soft-leather, against the damage of the damp.  The long-hafted axe at their belt, headed like a dagger on one side, like a hammer on the other. “Mercenaries too?”

Tammunei tilted their head, gave a small uncertain shift with their mouth, then nodded. A ‘sometimes yes.’ A ‘maybe yes.’

With time the land rose. As we dragged ourselves from the marsh, so did the lay of things, and the city-ruin itself.

We passed through a sunken mess of slums. Sagging once-huts of mud-brick with roofs long gone, opening their insides to the elements, like Nordic barrow-pits. There in the gutter-faced remains of the city’s poorest parts, something lingered on the air. Not a scent, nor quite a sound, but the sense that something was speaking, but couldn’t quite be heard. I wondered if this was how it began for Tammunei, hearing the voices of the dead? But it faded and didn’t come back. And in terraces shored up with stone, tier by tier, we clambered in switchback progress up into the long ridge of headland that crowned Old Ebonheart’s mainland half.

That was the best part of a day and the beginning, after, of its evening. Cold shade in the morning, as the east-rising steps of this east-rising city hid us from the sun, and the sun from us. Cold sunshine the colour of tin at noon, tricking our brows into beading with sweat.

Often the old paths were blocked. The upsloping streets were choked with refuse and rubble. We found unorthodox ways over wreckage and terrace-walls, and made our progress something more like the climbing of a mountainside than the navigation of a city. Our path began to wind through alleyways, up the tumbledown flanks of fallen homes, and then through the rooms of homes themselves, preserved somehow like grotto-caves, all but buried in all this destruction.

Tammunei was first to see the dead. Of course, of course, it was Tammunei. Stealing through a half-collapsed badger-set of rooms where families once had slept, we saw one that still remained.

A mother and child they’d been once, but death and time had diminished them. In the lightless one-room pit of what had been her home, she paced a figure-eight, holding a bundle of rags in her arms, and the creak and grind of her bones and tendons was all she sang as a lullaby. A faded age-thinned yellow dress hung from her. What flesh she’d worn had turned to leather, parched like the skin of a last-year’s apple, kept since in the dark and the dry. I might have expected skeletons – clattering bones and bleached hard lines – but this was worse. A person whose soul was too shocked or too stubborn to leave their body or quite let it rot.

We waited, watching, horrified-silent. But it seemed that we were as dead to her as she was dead to us. Trapped in our separate worlds, though we shared a space. She only carried on pacing, rocking her bundle of rags.

Tammunei urged us onward with gestures of their hands.

“And you?” I mouthed and motioned, silent by instinct, so as not to disturb this room.

“I’ll stay,” Tammunei’s lips shaped back. “If there’s something I can do…”

“Then I’ll stay with you.”

But Tammunei shook their head, firm, hair fretting free and into their face. “Alone. Please.”

I frowned, face shifting uneasy, then nodded. “You won’t be long?”

A shrug. “Perhaps.”

I never knew how much or how little they needed me, then. My protection or help. Mine was the violence that shielded them from violence. Perhaps I was little else besides. This wasn’t a situation to be solved with violence, or well-placed words, but that didn’t mean it was safe. Still I turned away, dour as pulling teeth, and led our long line onward.

That night we camped in the upper-city, in the dusty tile-strewn square of a tier-roofed townhouse. The shattered shell of a dome lay in the wide weed-choked boulevard outside — scraps of painted bronze and shards of painted purple. I huddled under a colonnade that leant now like a drunkard against an outer wall.

It was there that Tammunei found us again, and their presence came over us like a broken curse. Purpose and guidance in sight again.

There was a sweet scent in the air. The splintered pillars of the fallen veranda were of fragrant mauve-brown wood. Slow down the decades they had been bleeding all the while, like cracked bottles of perfume. A dark and oozing aroma, amber-coloured in my mind, and heady to breathe for too long.

A chill came down with the sunset, and deepened as night drew on. The walls around us blocked the worst of the wind and saved us from its keen cold teeth. Still we heard it, moaning round the severed trunks of fallen towers, adding salt sea to the courtyard’s scent.

We cooked what was left of our hunters’ meat over stones I called fire to heat. Kagouti is stew meat, unfit to roast save for two exceptions: when roasted a whole day and basted constantly, or when only the cheeks are eaten, for where those hard tusks grow the tenderest meat’s to be found. We had it roasted all the same. We had weathered worse things than chewing tough meat. Or meat burnt almost black…

I asked Tammunei what they had done below. Had they been able to help?

“I listened to her sing,” they mouthed to me. “Heard her. Said her child was sleeping. And she slept sound after that.”

Strange. Tammunei always spoke of the uncanny as if it were the most natural thing. As if anyone could do the same, and anyone in their right heart would.

After, we huddled round the stones, starving and greedy for what remained of their warmth. In bedrolls and bundles of clothing and rags, and in heapings of travel-tired limbs, we stockpiled the heat of our bodies.

This had all turned to habit by then. Every night, and every night, as the nights themselves grew colder. And every night that passed that way, I spent trying not to breathe, thinking of nothing but sleep. Useless — like praying so hard for a thing that you never get up off your knees to go out and get it.

That night, Tammunei’s shape furled over me. Some bone-rigid part nestled into me. Chin to chest, jaw to shoulder; a tangle of knees and elbows. Warmth worked between us, trapped in the folds of our clothes. I thought about breathing. Counted every conscious twitch of  my lungs.

Touch had never come easy to me. Ever a kind of invasion at worst, and at best it stuck like a burr in my mind so I could think of nothing else — like I’m bound up too tight in the skin that’s doing the feeling. And there was always guilt in that too.

With Tammunei it had stopped feeling like an affront, an assault. Hard to say when the change had come, or if it had always been there. But with them I suffered touch without suffering. And at the time that felt so precious it scared me. So sweet that to sleep through it would be a waste, some part of me almost felt. So it had felt for weeks maybe, and I’d gone the whole while without rest.

Our bodies were tangled. I felt their shivers through me, as if they were my own.

“You’re shivering,” I said, soft and stupid, unheard in the dark. But I was used to telling Tammunei what they felt. Telling the truths their nerves wouldn’t report. By now, that too was habit.

How could they be cold, I wondered? How, while my skin prickled so hot? While my breath and my blood both came so fevered?

The coarse grind of clothes on clothes. A sound like knots tied in rope, made fast, making mooring, tightening round me. Everything came world-resounding loud when the cold and the city-ruin had made everything else so silent. The closeness of it all trapped me, bound up in all this sharing. The terror of it and hunger of it, febrid-hot in my hungry hands, and tugging tight in my coward heart.

In my belly I felt the moment uncurl. A blossoming brute desire. I laid a hand on Tammunei’s hip. A question, but they had no voice to answer. In the silence, I hated that I’d asked at all.

The cold of the morning made that night feel distant as a dream. That was a mercy, but not a reprieve.