#even with the firsthand knowledge that closeting is a thing i have to make a decision re: how far it could have possibly gone
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reddbuster · 2 months ago
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I forget who made it but I saw a post the other day talking about how a lot of trans women come out much later in life than trans men tend to (and hence why “egg culture” tends to be mostly centred around transfemininity) and it really made me reflect on my experiences with queer spaces and how things have visibly changed as I got older. I’ve been pretty heavily involved in queer and especially trans spaces, both in-person and online, since I was a preteen. While spaces and events for people my age were much more sparse (and harder to attend while closeted) as a kid, they did exist. But one thing that always stuck out to me was the complete absence of trans girls even at events mainly aimed at trans youth. I met a good few other trans and gnc kids at these events, but all, literally every single one of these people were perisex and assigned female at birth. Not a single transfeminine person to be found. This changed as I got older. I started high school. Slowly but surely the circles I hung around in became more diverse. I met trans women. I met and befriended gay and gnc “boys” who would later come out as trans girls. Now, as a young adult, the ratio of transmasculine to transfeminine folks in my life is near equal. But even now, the demographic of trans girls in my life generally skews older than the guys. And of course this trend is very reflective of the effects of transmisogyny in general, how the media targets trans women as the scapegoat for their hatred, painting ‘trans girl’ as a shameful and deviant thing to be. It is reflective, more than anything, of how we all need to be more steadfast in our support of trans women both in our activism and in our day-to-day lives. But I also think that everyone needs to make more of an effort specifically to support young trans girls. Transfeminine kids, teenagers, even young adults. Because I have met so many women that I know for a fact would have enjoyed their teenage years so much more if someone, anyone had been there to tell them when they were young that it was alright to be trans. The first friend I ever lost to suicide as a teenager was a trans girl. And I live every day of my life with the knowledge that if I hadn’t been her one and only source of support, she probably still would have been here today. Believe me when I say that I understand the importance of respecting people’s boundaries. I do think that insisting every gnc person must be trans is a bad and counterproductive thing to do. But I’ve also seen firsthand what happens when trans girlhood is treated like it’s a downgrade, it’s very suggestion a taboo. When nobody is willing to be the one to say “hey, it’s okay if you want to be a girl”. I believe with everything I am that the life and happiness of a single trans girl is more than worth the discomfort of a million cis men. And if you disagree with that sentiment I think you either need to fix your heart, or you need to make peace with the fact that you are a thoroughly vile person and endeavour to shut your mouth about transgender issues forever.
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wernerherzogs · 5 years ago
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to be fair now i've watched some of his other stuff and yeahh, it's all pretty obvious and doubling down on stereotypes. i guess as someone who never really had close male friends or was interested in their dynamics when i was younger, it kind of helped me think about the biases i might have so i just wanted to share out of pure lockdown boredom, sorry haha. but yeah, fair enough, god knows we've had enough reaction videos to last us a lifetime :) thanks to the other anon for explaining better!
ahhhh you wanted to talk biases! got it! don't apologise, i just never realised bc i haven't seen those vids yet, and only that other anon's summary gave me more idea re: what you were after. i should watch them first before commenting, but to be fair, the guy can have his own biases, too. if he prefaces the hendall video with the statement that they're friends who've dated on/off again and then sees them being friendly and having a playful banter, he's more likely to read it as flirtation. similarly if he approaches the larry one with the assumption that they're straight guys who to his knowledge have only been with women but happen to have some rumours floating around them, he might see in there friendship dynamics only. the important thing is if he'd watched just one video for those analyses, i'd say, and did no other research? because i might have my biases, but my approach to larry is fuller given that i'd been witnessing it over a significant amount of time via many different media sources. so even if i re-check my bias and am willing to consider a possibility that maybe larry had never even gone anywhere in the first place, that doesn't mean that i wasn't seeing certain behaviour from them both over a prolonged time, behaviour that had made me personally believe something was going on. i mean, sometimes feelings happen, but they still aren't acknowledged by the parties involved. like, i didn't imagine louis getting a semi on stage because harry had whispered in his ear, for just one example, but whether they actually did something about it in private later is naturally just my assumption, and might not have been true.
my real tl;dr in the year of our lord 2020, aka after a long passage of time since any of us saw those two together in RL last, is that i'd say that both sides (truthers and antis, from the lack of better terms) have/had strong arguments for their respective cases. i think larries can still claim that something has at least happened in the past, while antis can quite comfortably believe that nothing's been going on for the last half of a decade.
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yanderes-stuff · 4 years ago
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5; 8 and 9 please and nsfw is optional.
Yes, the feral trio I never did a poly yandere before, and sorry for being so late school was holding me at gunpoint
P.s it's 1:43 am where im at and I got zoom at 7:10 I'll edit the grammar mistakes later but I didn't want you to have to wait any longer
Characters: Skully, Masky, Hoodie
Words 5k 
TW: yandere thoughts, cussing, kidnapping, drugging 
You met Jay during college when the teacher put you both together for a school project, you got to have a good read on his personality with Jay, being a curious goofy character with a charming atmosphere surrounding him.
After a while, you decided to start the project filming causal nature. you both shared a passion for nature being calmed by the forest, and the woodland creatures which made you closer. After a while, you noticed that he would rarely talk to any of his other friends in favor of talking to you.
This led to many intervals where you caught him staring at you during class and followed you around like a puppy which although made you irritated you brushed it off thinking nothing of it, after all, it's just goofy Jay being Jay.
But alas he fell victim to your charm the conversations he had with you stuck with him and the moments where you were in his presence kept him going till the next day, you reached his heart unlike anybody else he met, and he lived for you alone perhaps it was the way you carried yourself through the gloomy days or the way you were more kind-hearted than anyone he ever met.
He longed to catch your eye and make you laugh but certain feelings were starting to stew inside him whenever he caught your friends talking to you especially if they were putting their hands on your beautiful body and even if they did so casually it made him infuriated he believed that he should be the only one that should be graced by your presence not them
After all, you never knew their intentions but he had a gut feeling they weren't good they didn't love you they only loved you for your looks and looks alone but he loved everything about you and he didn't know why but alas he had friends who were close to you those friends being Brian and Tim his colleague's since high school 
However, he had to obtain your affection and warmth to protect you so he wormed his way into your dating life because he had known your crush had his dark secrets that he cheated on his exes and he just couldn't let this snake wrap his suffocating coil and sink his poisonous fangs into you for his esteem 
So to resolve this fear of his he followed him home in the dark and threatened to shoot him if he didn't avoid you like a plague but without his knowledge, he didn't know that he was being watched by none other than Tim who mentally noted with haste that he's not the only one who took a liking to you and strolled out of Jay's sight before he could notice him
Relief washed over as he went back to his secret home surrounded by woods away from his lonely college dorm comforted by the fact that the guy that tried to use you had been put in his rightful place now thanks to him all he had to worry about now was the fact that his other friends also shared a connection with you that was too close for his liking 
You were his everything now and while he still cherished his friends he wasn't going to let either of them have you even if it put him in danger of course you only saw the good in people and that would include Tim and Brian which he would grow to admire but it would also make him nervous but despite that he knows you love him and he had to make a move quickly to prove he's the only right one for you
Oh how he longed to be anything that would make you happy and today being Valentine's day he promised himself this was going to be the day he asks you out and you'll say yes or at least he certainly hoped you would he grabbed a few things from the store some gifts he hoped would win your appreciation but he had a thought cropped in his mind what if you rejected him and if you did do such a thing how distraught he would be 
He waved away those thoughts in his mind trying to convince himself he played his cards right after all he frightened any competition away from you while making sure to be by your side at every moment you needed him the thought of your gentle voice accepting his confession of love made his uneasy mind now calm and focused 
Once he reached the school province he took the bag of gifts consisting of chocolates of your favorite brand and bouquets of lovely crimson flowers that are a symbol of his love for you he was finally ready to be your lover and he sure as hell hoped you were too as that thought passed his mind he peeked his head around the corner to your dorm 
What he saw made his blood boil and felt a violent sensation he couldn't understand at the time and what he witnessed was Tim brushing his lips against your while caressing your cheek with his rough hand you weren't flinching away but rather leaning in into the troublesome kiss he didn't know Tim could do this he thought he made it clear that she belonged to him
Tim look so entranced by the way your chest raised and fell in sync with his own as he leaned closer with his arm bending above your head caging you against your dorm door 
While Jay was peaking he noticed that Tim had a card with a heart placed on in front of it in one of his hands 
He quickly pieced together that he had gotten to you first before him as he felt despair overwhelm him why did you have to love Tim of all people he quickly grabbed the gifts and descended the stairs as quickly and quietly as possible at the same time he felt hot tears stain his bitter cheeks that day he drove back to his home weeping 
But as he stepped inside an environment of misery following behind him as he sat down on the sofa he didn't think he'd have the guts to kill Tim but little did he know that someone else was in the room with him that individual being Tim and although he didn't want to admit it
Tim planned to kill Jay ever since he witnessed him threaten to kill his old crush since you confessed about liking him which was a big mistake on your part but Tim was glad Jay took care of him but now he had to kill Jay but he acknowledges he didn't want to at all but Tim was afraid of what Jay was capable of when it comes to his unstableness
He knew Jay was infatuated with you and that he's been getting more and more unusual as you continued to spend time with him and he started to dissociate with Brian and Tim which was starting to get concerning because Jay was starting to become extra dependent on your affection to distract him from all the chaos going on in his life
But Jay himself was starting to take drastic measures to prove himself to you and Tim never thought Jay could be capable of violence but he's seen firsthand that he the man that he thought wouldn't harm an insect was contemplating murder out of love 
 
So with guilt, he grabbed his firearm and stared as Jay slowly was lured into a deep slumber he slowly opened the oak closet door so that it was vastly ajar and he tiptoed quietly towards Jays sleeping form beads of sweat was beginning to form on his forehead
Once he loomed over the trembling man's resting figure his silhouette casting a shadow over him his hands shook as he raised the revolver to Jay's temple and his finger was on the trigger there was a small click followed by a thunderous bang 
The gory sight of Jay would be etched into his mind for the rest of his life but it would be worth it to protect you but he had to admit it he for some reason felt relief in his mind and another feeling that was off it was a euphoric adrenaline rush he noticed that he was still shaking and realized that he should evade the scene as quickly as possible back to you
You were sleeping so soundly in Tims dorm and Hoodie thought your sleeping form was so beautiful so vulnerable he's been watching you for a while through Brian and he thought this would be the perfect moment to steal you away after he saw the note Tim wrote a letter to you inviting you to come to his place for valentines day 
How romantic of him too bad Hoodies going to whisk you away now he recalls seeing you and Tim go on a dinner date in Tim's kitchen he prepared your favorite dish the reason he knows this was because he placed cameras in more secretive places to check on Tim and his episodes when he would become Masky and go out to do God knows what 
Hoodie knew Tim was trying to keep he alter personality a secret from you as well as hide his more obsessive side when he would become Masky he would stalk you and take pictures of you going about your day and attach it to his wall later to look at when Tims feeling emotional which Tim had to compile in a box the day previously so you wouldn't freak out at him
Which Hoodie would probably have to steal along with you was a thought that came across his mind as he prepared a syringe with an unknown liquid inside of it from underneath Tims mattress he watched the scruffy brunette man got up and picked up a revolver from the drawer with his pale hands and walked out making sure to keep the gun hidden from anyone's view 
Once he was out of sight propped up upon his shoulders he began crawling out from under the bed as quietly as possible as not to disturb your sleep as he stood up gazing upon your softly snoring form as he was searching for the perfect spot to prick your neck with the fluid once he found it he punctured the soft flesh injecting the liquid in your bloodstream you awoke for a second not long enough to examine him but only to be held down by the powerful man as he clasped his rough fingers around your both your wrist 
"Shhhhhhh [Name.] baby just relax" he mumbled somewhat gently with a smug smile etched on his face, his thoughts instantly twisting into ideas of what he was going to do to you when you finally got back to where you truly belonged. "Everything is going to be just fine."
As soon as the drug invaded your mind and your world faded once again at the same time he hastily took you into his arms and started his journey back to his abandoned cabin into the darkness of the night and when he reached his own home he settled you in the bed in his room with ropes gripping your hands attached to the old oak foundation of the bed as he snuggled into your warm body once he was feeling bold as the night proceeded
"I've been wanting to do this for a fucking real long time." He mutters under his breath into the crook of the cozy soft flesh of your neck "Best part is that he doesn't know where I live so he can't take you away."
Tim didn't know what the hell could've happened while he visited Jay but all he knew was that something was wrong and now you were missing with no signs clues of to where you might be it was only when he found a note under the blankets with just three words that made his blood run cold 
She's mine now
Now he knew has an idea of who could've done it Brian has been strange as well lately by giving death glares to him when Tim tries to flirt with you not only that but he seemed to be more encouraging of Jay's stalkerish behavior Tim now realized the mistake he made earlier by leaving you alone to murder Jay before he could murder him Tim believed the only reason Brian was nudging Jay to stalk you was to get Jay to stop bothering him and let him live in peace but now that Jay was dead there was no other suspect left but Brian 
As he was piecing together what could've transpired he heard a buzzing coming from his cell phone he took the phone in his hand while the faint glow of light was still emanating when the device as he saw the message from none other than Brian with a string of numbers possibly coordinates to his location where he kidnapped you from him while he was busy
His breath started to get more uneven with his eyes dilating out of fear while thoughts flew past his mind about your safety he was started to hold himself with his hands gripping diagonally at his upper arms while the fabric of his flannel creased as a reaction to his strength he started to tremble not out of distress but resentment his knuckles started transforming into a snowy white from how hard he was clenching his fist
His mind was beginning to feel fuzzy as his own thoughts were starting to get quiet but the static in his mind was getting only louder followed by a loud booming voice that was starting to overtake him again but this time he welcomed it as he didn't know what other actions he could take
Once it finally overtook him a sinister simile was plastered upon his parched slips he was going to get you back and slaughter Brian as atonement for stealing you and maybe keep you in the cabin away from the violence and then he would fix everything thus you would belong to him
"Fuck Brian you know I'd do anything to protect [Name.] anything for her to be mine." He growled under his breath, eyes now focused on the porcelain mask with dark circles around its eyes with eyes knitted up in what appears to be suprise and pitch jet lips on the wall he told you was just for decoration "You're about to regret what you've just done." He remarks followed by a deep huskier chuckle
He clutches his handgun yet again and sets off on a search to locate the coordinates stepping into his vehicle and sliding in the keys before turning it to start the engine and pulling out of the college campus parking lot now focusing on the road in front of him and driving into the nightfall as to not be discerned by anybody 
When he finally reached the trail to the cabin he started sprinting his way to whatever location Brian had sent him he had no time to waste following a trail of footprints of crunched leaves and snapped twigs on the surface of the ground floor when he finally reached the window of the cabin he stood and pressed an ear to listen for activity in case Brian was preparing an ambush for him in one of the rooms 
He heard the sound of a struggle and the sounds of thuds something else that he couldn't quite make out but it was still extremely worrying 
Bam...bam...bam! "AARGH!"  followed by a thunderous crackling of somebody he couldn't make out the voices clearly but he could at least assume what's occurring...what if it was Brian hurting you because you did something that made him extremely furious if that were the case he'd have to come and rescue you but at the same time he'd have to keep his alter ego a secret to avoid your concern for him
He quickly wrapped his fingers around a nearby rock and launched it directly at the cabin glass window instantly shattering it to sharp pieces and stepping through it carefully and at that moment he could make out masculine yells coming from the room in front of him now he is certain the voice wasn't actually you much to his relief 
As he more steps towards the door intertwining his fingers against the knob of the old wooden door and twisting while at the same time putting his strength against the ancient oak entryway he could still make out another familiar yet unknown voice furiously screaming along with Brian shouting among all the commotion which fueled his yearning to harm Brian for bringing both you and him into his annoying scheme even moree
Then as he walked inside the miserable room with the white paint heavily chipping away following that sight he witnessed Brian in a vibrant orange yellowish hoody stained in certain places with what appears to be blood along with a pitch-black fabric mask covering the entirety of his head beside the hood that was pulled over his head another thing he noticed on the material placed on Brian's face was a red frown along with crimson pinpoint dots for eyes additionally just plain worn out jeans that looked to be somewhat dirty he realized that this wasn't actually Brian but his alter ego whose name was unmistakably known to him as hoodie but he was still going to execute him nonetheless for possibly harming you 
But the other figure straddling Brian clutching a cell phone above him  looked somewhat familiar with a coffee brown leather jacket with a black hood that was also above his head he noticed the man's jacket happens to also be tinted in particular spots with that easily recognizable red liquid in addition to this he wore a mask that resembled that of a skeleton with two rows of square teeth and dark circles on both of the holes where his eyes would be with eyebrows that looked to be expressing with curiosity 
"Give me back my phone right now you fucker!" Brian hissed eyes glaring up at the man on above of him trying to get to pry the man off him "And get the fuck off of me!" He added with a hint of irritation 
"SHE'S MINE SHE'S MINE YOU CAN'T HAVE HER SHE'S MINE!" The man snarled in an outrage his tone obviously hysterical as he raised his other fist preparing to hit Hoodie with a flurry of punches aimed at his already bloody face
As Masky stepped closer to the scene there was a painfully audible creak and both men stopped for a second before their head began tilting over to Masky's direction than the mysterious man spoke his words flowing out of his mouth like fluid 
"Well...well...well remember me?" He implored Masky swiftly changing his tone from outrage to relaxed while staring at him intently still with that emotionless mask whilst Hoodie kept swatting for the man to get off of him 
"No who the hell are you and did you send me that text." He questions feeling himself getting more disgruntled with this confusing situation he opens his mouth to speak once again "And where is [Name.] What did you do to her!?" His eyes gaze directly at the unusual man 
"Oh, you don't recall me, your friend? that you shot dead in my own home!" The man glares and scowls at Masky the unpleasant memory started to rise in his mind again "You took my love then you took my life and now I'm back for vengeance" 
"Jay?" Masky grumbled, "there's no way I killed you, why aren't you dead?!" He shouted his mind racing with questions maybe he was just hallucinating this whole predicament 
"Close im Skully, but about your little question I'd rather not answer that." Skully answered back Hoodie now was panting under him from a combination of him being crushed under his weight and his failed attempts to injure Skully with his sore bloody knuckles
 
Hoodie was beginning to feel lightheaded from only getting to inhale so much oxygen just when he thought he was about to black out Skully stood up with his eyes boring into Maskys then Skully spoke
"I'm going to...kill you then I'll kill hoodie then she'll be mine all mine." Skully's breathing started to hitch and become heavier like a bear's breathing as he slowly took a step towards Masky "it's going to be all okay everything's going to be fine it's about to be the way it should be."
You started to thrash around in your bounds fortunately to you it was becoming looser you tried to observe the darkness of the environment around you to tried to find a way to escape back to safety there were windows but they were boarded up but there was an old door which caught your eye as you limped over to it still sore from the burns of the rope that felt like a harsh heat
As you wrapped your hand around the knob and pushed you heard the conversation of people in the next room so then out of curiosity you put your ear to the door you could make out a thickly deep voice and some the sounds of some light coughing along with Tims's voice which filled you with both relief and fear
Because on one hand, Tim is here to save you from this place but on the other what if he got wounded by that other man after thinking about what to do in this situation for a minute that felt like an eternity you decided it would be best to step into the room help Tim beat that man and escape with his help and call the authorities
As you stepped into the room everybody peered in your direction you caught a good look at them one being Tim with his dark brown hair and yellow jacket and worn jeans and a white mask covering his face with what looks to have dark lips and circles encasing the holes meant for the eyes the man in front him looked a bit similar 
He has a tan leather jacket with a raven black hood and the same worn pants and a white mask white rectangular teeth and the same dark circles around the eyes as Tims but this time with the same eyebrows settled in a surprised manner in your direction as if they were startled by you waltzing in the room
And then finally there was that easily recognizable sound of Brian's roughly breathing you heard in your sleep but right now he was on the floor laid flat with blood with a yellow orangish cloth hood along with ordinary jeans and a black cover mask with crimson red frown and two dots for eyes above it
"What's going on! who are you?" You questioned loudly, eyes flickering around the room. you were wondering why they were in costumes was Tim in on this sick circumstance?
"I'm here for you my beloved and im Jay but...in a different form," he announced casually as he made a fist and pointed his thumb to his face "My names now Skully" 
You were confused because Skully didn't look like Jay whatsoever he was taller and his voice was a lot deeper almost in a chilling way and his figure looked to be more stronger than Jay with his broad shoulders but the only thing that was the same about him was the way he spoke 
"[Name.] Give me a minute to deal with him. I won't be needing your help." Masky sighs casually trying to weave away in his mind to distract Skully so your as least scared as possible 
"That's quite a rude way to talk." Skully quickly brought out his hand and grabbed his pocket knife from out of his jean pocket while using his other hand to clench Masky's throat blocking his airways while Masky started making choking sounds trying to struggle out of his grasp 
"If you kill him I won't ever love you!" You blurted out of desperation trying to save your lover from getting his throat slashed from Skully's blade your eyes now are being focused on Tims trembling body
Skully faltered at this his breathing now became even more intense then he dropped Tim with a dull thud then he started to clutch his arms and rocked himself ever so slightly back and forth in an attempt to comfort himself from your words
While Skully was distracted Hoodie who was now back to full willpower  hastily got up as quick as possible and clenched Skullys knife from behind and had it now hovering over Skullys throat Hoodie didn't say a word and just when he was about to make the slit you perked up
"No, don't kill him either for the love of God!" You cried out you didn't believe that what Skully possibly done was right but that doesn't mean you want him to perish you took a quick breather before continuing "Don't or else I be able to love you either" 
Instead of trying to comfort himself in an attempt to forget your words he just gave a disappointed sigh and slowly backed away from Skully while he raised his hands in surrender secretly smirking under his mask now comforted that you saved him
Masky was now staring at Hoodie already reaching in his pocket for his handgun but before he could you interrupted "That goes the same for you too Tim."
And with that, he stopped in his tracks and looked from Hoodie to you with a blank stare so you couldn't be able to get a read with how upset he was that you would say such a thing especially when it was Hoodie that did this to you and dragged him into it 
"Actually I got an idea," Hoodie speaks enthusiastically eyeing everyone in the room chuckling as ideas resurfacing in his head then smirking to himself "If [Name.] Hates it when we're at each other's throats then let's just share her"
Skully had a thousand-yard expression yard stare then he uttered "Actually as much as I hate sharing I'd rather share than be genuinely despised by my sweetheart."
"I'm going to be honest I'm tired of me and [Name.] Getting stressed by college and...I would rather spend more time with her" Masky spoke softly yet reluctantly while his eyes glanced at yours lovingly "And I'd prefer not to kill my friends despite what they've done" 
your lips started to depart to talk attempting to sound stern but your voice came out meek "I'm not sure about this." Your stare now focused on the floor and not any of the men in front of you who on the other hand were staring right into your eyes
Now your mind was frantic on one side how are you supposed to split your affection between three of the closest people in your life all the time and also you loved Jay and Brian as a friend and maybe Tim as a lover but you didn't want them to be at each other's throats especially Skully since he appeared to be tougher than the other two men another thing to note is that all three of them could easily hurt you although you can sense that they didn't want to
But what if they forced you into this scenario if you resisted would they punish you or your family so with that last thought in mind you decided it would be best to accept their offer after all it would be selfish to have somebody dying just because you resisted their demented obsession with you and after all…maybe you'll learn to love them over time
So trying to hide the anxiety in your voice and the heat on your cheeks you spoke loudly enough for them to hear "I've decided that your offer is for the best so I'll accept." their face lit up at your words
Skully was the first one to step towards you at a slow pace as he wrapped his arms under your own in a warm tight embrace whilst he put his chin atop your soft hair 
Then Hoodie came trapping you in a side hug nestling into your shoulder while you could feel him against your skin grinning ear to ear through the mask 
Then there was Masky who came up from behind and settled his rough hands down on your shoulders then he bent down to kiss the back of your neck which made you jolt in surprise in response to this he just chuckled then he bent down and put his arms under your legs and swept you off your feet while the other two men backed off now carrying you bridal style 
Then he started to head back into the bedroom where you woke up in taking the lead while the other two followed then setting you down gently atop the soft oak bed while Hoodie reached for something underneath the bed much to your dismay while you were caged in the middle of the bed between Skully and Masky then Hoodie stood up with a syringe in hand while Masky snaked his arms over yours so that your arms were to your side and you were pulled flush against him feeling him purring against your neck while Skully began to stroke your hair with one hand in an attempt to calm you while his other hand was tracing patterns on your thigh
Hoodie slowly came on top of the mattress putting a finger to his lips while silently shushing you not to struggle as you felt the familiar prick of your skin as your sight began to fade and turn black 
"Shhhh love you made the right choice we're so glad but now is the time you get your rest." Was the last thing you heard from Masky's lips before you fell into a deep sleep.
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plantsarefun06 · 4 years ago
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Creation of Lazarus
"But I know the rage that drives you. That impossible anger strangling the grief, until the memory of your loved one is just poison in your veins. And one day, you catch yourself wishing the person you loved had never existed, so you'd be spared your pain."
-Ra’s al Ghul ----
Ra’s was born in the Arabi desert, to nomads, in 1430. If you asked any person from that tribe what Ra’s was, they would say “A boy with dreams”. Ra’s had dreams of knowledge, dreams of helping others, he dreamed of having a legacy, and a great one at that.
His dreams led him to leave his tribe. He knew that as a nomad, he would never truly achieve what he wished to and the best course of action was to settle down in a great city and continue the measly education that he got as a nomad, and the great knowledge the libraries of the Sultan provided.
His studies led him to a physician. Ra’s requested to become a physician, he wanted to help others, this would offer him an opportunity to study and learn about diseases and ailments, firsthand, and offer him chances to help the sick and injured.
The physician asked for one thing. “I am infirm and soon for the grave. My daughter, Sora, she will need a husband to look after her.” That’s when he heard a yell from the curtain behind the clerk’s desk. A woman swiftly pushed back the curtain to scold her father. “I thought we agreed you’d stop trying to marry me off!”
The girl, clearly about his age, looked at him, let out a quick huff before grabbing his wrist in a vice-like grip and dragging him behind the clerk’s desk, behind the curtain, into what he could now see was a closet, with medicines and serums lining the walls, all filled with cobwebs and dust, clearly having not been used in a while.
“I’ll be honest with you Ra’s… I don’t really like boys much… but I can offer you companionship and support. And if we get married it will make my father’s last days much happier.” He was evaluating what she said as she said it when she quickly looked over to the shelves “And him stop pestering me.” She mumbled more to herself than Ra’s. At that he let out a light chuckle and having thought over her offer gave her his thoughts.
“I admit, I’m more interested in the pursuit of knowledge than women. We might be able to come to some… mutually beneficial arrangement.”
Sora gave a light smile to Ra’s, and he returned it. They both understood the agreement they both had created.
----
Within the year, as they all had expected, Sora’s father had died.
Despite them knowing that the time was drawing near, it was still hard. Sora would never admit it, but she shed a tear at his funeral, watching the bird fly through the skies as he was laid out in the Tower of Silence for a sky burial, traditional for his Zoroastrianism.
To cope Ra’s delved into his studies and found a project of the late physician. He had seen him look over it many times, but he had never been allowed to read the texts. He would simply watch as the physician would spend hours pouring over the texts, before the physician would finally come over and teach him about traditional medicinal herbs and serums and their effects. Ra’s forever acknowledges that he learned more in his months under the physician's tutelage, than he ever did in the library.
He learned of how diseases spread, and the common ways they would extend across the city in the matter of weeks. How if they started within the markets, they would quickly spread across many of the peasants, and other middle-class folk, but they wouldn’t get much farther, and how if the diseases started amongst the slaves, they would spread much faster due to the unsanitary conditions, and they would often then be picked up by someone of upper class, as they traditionally had slaves, and spread.
He was eternally grateful for the lessons he was given. They helped him serve the city in incredible ways. Ra’s performed near miracles for anyone who needed it. His reputation started to grow, some upper-class citizens would refuse to come, because Ra’s would cater to slaves, but others would request the treatment of Ra’s and would always find themselves healed within the week.
But these texts that he found of the physicians, seemed to have some pages with herbs and brews, but the majority held drawings of people, dressed in unfamiliar clothing, all bright, with texts in a script he couldn't begin to understand. He looked among the pages and found what looked to be a cypher in the physician's handwriting. The physician had part of the unfamiliar script figured out… no not script… it was CODE! The texts were coded!
All he would need to do was complete the cypher and he would discover what the texts were for.
----
Ra’s poured hours into the texts and completing the code, with no such luck.
“It’s no good. These codes your father was working on have me beat. I can’t break it…” He called to his wife, who was currently working in the front of the shop after it closed about an hour ago, she was preparing for the next day, he supposed.
“Perhaps I can help?” She poked her head in from behind the curtain to peer at him being over the table.
“Thank you, Sora. A warm bowl of goat’s milk and nutmeg would be most refreshing.” Ra’s commented back to her, without lifting his eyes from the texts in front of him.
He could practically feel the glare she was giving him. He wasn’t entirely sure it wouldn’t burn him with the intensity he could only feel from it, and he wasn’t even looking at her.
“I mean with the code. I learnt much from my father and knew he was struggling to complete his final great work, just as much as you. You’re not married to a servant girl, Ra’s. Warm the milk yourself, and let me see those figures.” The defiance in her tone was thick and her anger was subtle yet tangible. He didn’t understand it but that defiance, and strong will made him want to love her.
He knew that their relationship was built on the agreement of companionship, and for the safety of Sora after her father’s death, but he would be lying if he said that he didn’t love her. Love the way she would snark him when he would ask her to do things, that he could do himself, love how she would hum as she cooked the dinner that they ate every night, her loved how she would ever so lightly furrow her eyebrow when she was concentrated on work.
Ra’s let out a small smile and turned to meet his wife by the curtain. He bent down to kiss her forehead, “Sora… I believe this is going to be a beautiful marriage.” He gave her a light hug before giving her another kiss on her forehead and mumbling to her just loud enough for her to hear, “I’ll go warm some goat’s milk for the both of us, and you can look over the codes, until I get back, and we can work on them together.” He gave her a light squeeze before unraveling himself from her and going off to warm the goat’s milk, and Sora heading over to the table to study the texts.
----
“More code?” Ra’s asked no one in particular. He and Sora had stumbled upon a trapdoor underneath a floor mat in the medicinal closet while cleaning. Ra’s could tell from the hinges alone that it was used regularly. When they opened the hatch they saw that it led down a small ladder, the ladder led to a room, an underground cave almost, despite it being quite dark he could make out the sound of lightly sloshing water and summarized that there was a pool in this cave.
They both held small candles, and when holding them close to the wall they saw it. It was a wall full of more texts! They were familiar enough with the code to recognize that the code from the texts upstairs matched the one in front of them.
A glint of recognition and understanding was in Sora’s eyes. “My father was working on a map of the Tibetan mountains, using the wisdom of the stars and other maps from the libraries of the Sultan. And figuring out the meaning of the code from texts of the ancients. A code showing…” She stopped speaking, her eyes running over a few things before stopping.
“And code of what?” Ra’s questioned Sora’s sudden quietness and turned to give her his whole focus. Her eyes were completely fixed on one drawing. It was of the silhouette of a man, behind him was a circle of purple. The way it was positioned it seemed to be describing the man emitting the purple. Like he was glowing.
He refocused his attention on his wife’s face as she turned to him, “One which tells the way to achieve something men have long dreamed-” he saw the emotions his wife’s face held. Emotions he had never seen in her face before, it was complete and utter disbelief,
“-a wish to change reality.”
----
They soon were able to decipher enough code to learn that the Tibetan mountains was the location of the Temple of Guardians, the holders of two pieces of magical jewelry that possessed the ability, when combined, to grant a wish that could alter reality.
Sora and Ra’s had both packed enough for a 3-week trip on horseback, to the Tibetan mountains, and back. Ra’s had won the argument over who would be going, Sora wanting it to be herself, but eventually agreeing Ra’s would be better suited for the job, considering he grew up as a nomad, much to Sora’s chagrin.
He had been on trek for a week and was taking a rest on the side of the dirt road to fill his canteen with water from a stream he saw nearby, when he saw a flash of light blue and white out of the corner of his eyes. He immediately drew one of the daggers that he carried at all times and started to look around for what he saw.
He hadn’t fought anyone in a decade, last time being a practice spar with his uncle the night before he left to go live in the city alone, and even then, he was only okay, but he did know some forms of martial arts and weaponry in theory. He read about it in some of the texts from the library, while theory may not have anything on experience, it was better than nothing.
He was beginning to think he had either come down with a fever and been hallucinating, or he had simply been seeing things, when after five minutes of surveying the area, he could see that no one had been there.
He walked up to his undisturbed horse and grabbed the reins. Upon lifting himself on the horse he heard a light *jingle*. He looked down to find a small drawstring bag tied around the tip of his saddle. He was used to seeing little drawstring bags, like this one, around the shop. Sora often used them to hold the herbs they used for medical purposes, but he didn’t know why she would have packed it, or why it jingled when it was shaken.
He slowly picked it up, examining it as if it were going to spontaneously catch fire. He slowly undid the knot and overturned the contents of it in his gloved hand.
Out fell two earrings and a ring…
A ring that was a black as dark as the night sky he saw as a nomad child, with a pawprint, greener than any grass or any tapestry he had seen before…
And a pair of earrings red as the blood he had seen countless times as a physician, and five distinct spots, black as the ring…
Both the ring and the earrings looking exactly like the drawings he had seen of the Black Cat miraculous and the Ladybug miraculous he had seen in the texts.
Ra’s had learned many lessons in his life, but one of the biggest, most important of them all: There are no coincidences in the world.
Ra’s had no doubt in his mind that in his hand, he held the two most powerful objects in the universe, two objects that would grant him a wish.
Slowly, a grin grew on his face. He immediately seized the reins of his horse, and turned him around, heading faster than he ever had back to the city.
His father-in-law's final project was finally completed on its way to being completed.
----
The look on Sora’s face was one he had only seen once before, when they first discovered the small area underneath the shop, complete and utter disbelief.
“This… these jewels… are they really the Black Cat and Ladybug miraculous?” She asked wide-eyed, just looking at what Ra’s had set on the counter after barging into the shop, in a ridiculously loud manner, might she add.
“I do believe it is, they practically feel powerful!”
Sora slowly inched her hand toward where the earrings fell on the counter. The moment she gently brushed her finger against one of the earrings, a bright pink light emitted from it, one that forced both Sora and Ra’s to cover their eyes.
Once the light dimmed, they saw something that was not in the texts.
Both Sora and Ra’s were in a state of shock. It was broken when the thing floated up to her face and began to speak, “Hello my name’s Tikki. I’m the Kwami of Creation!” She said, giving a little twirl in the air.
Ra’s, finally able to speak again, asked, “That does not explain much. What is a ‘Kwami’ and why did you suddenly appear when the earrings were touched by Sora?”
“Ooh. A Kwami is an entity tethered to this plane of reality by the jewelry that is sitting on your counter. I’m the entity of creation. When everything came to be, I came to be with it, not before, not after, some people confuse that.” The ‘Kwami’, as they both learned it was, giggled before continuing with the explanation they both needed, “I’m the thing that gives power to that jewelry, without me, that jewelry is just some antique junk.” She finished her explanation.
It made more sense than just ‘magical jewelry’ to have some entity tethered to it. “If you touch the ring Plagg will come out!” She exclaimed before going over to Ra’s and pulling off his glove and grabbing his hand. She pulled his hand from his side and he willingly allowed the ‘Kwami’ to lift his finger to touch the ring.
A second burst of bright light, green this time, came from the ring. This time Sora and Ra’s expected it so it wasn’t too bad. They only had to blink a couple times before they heard a yawn, “Well that was a good cat nap!” The other ‘Kwami’, who he was guessing his name was ‘Plagg’ from what ‘Tikki’ said, “Do you all have some cheese, I’m starving!”
Sora was the one who pulled herself together enough to answer ‘Plagg’s’ question, “There is some food in the cabinet under the basin. You may find what you are looking for there.” Sora gestured to the curtain and both Kwami got the memo, before floating off where Sora indicated the food would be.
Both Ra’s and Sora locked eyes. Their silent conversation led to them both leaving each other's gaze to eye the ring and earrings. They both agreed that they had no idea what had just happened.
----
“That is not a good idea.”
That was the only thing that was said after Sora and Ra’s took them to see the basement beneath their shop that held the texts and the pool. Both of the Kwami were faced away from the texts as ‘they should not see them’. Ra’s gave them an indignant look at their immediate dismissal of their want for a wish.
“This could help hundreds maybe even thousands of people, how is this not a good idea?”
“You don’t understand, the wish has major repercussions, you can always ask for a way to heal the injured and dead, but that wish will have untold side-effects.” Tikki tried to explain to both Ra’s and Sora. The sincerity in her voice was deep, but they did not hear the sadness that lingered in it as well.
“Will you not allow us to make the wish?” Sora asked, tilting her head to the side, as if analyzing the situation.
“We cannot stop you from making the wish, but we must tell you, it will have repercussions, and the one who makes the wish will feel them deeply.” Sorrow again seeped into Tikki’s voice; this time Ra’s noticed it as well.
“Then I will make the wish, I have memorized the incantation and only one of us can make the wish itself.” He pulled the now silver ring and black earrings from his pocket. He placed the ring on his left middle finger. He prepared to force the earrings through his ears, worst case scenario he could use whatever came of the wish to heal himself, only to be pleasantly surprised when the earrings glided through his ear as if he did have a piercing.
Both the Kwami moved to the outstretched hands Ra’s offered and sat down. Ra’s failed to notice the tears in Tikki’s eyes, and the downcast look on Plagg’s face.
The moment he uttered the last syllable, the rush to Ra’s was undeniable. He felt immense amounts of power seeping into his veins.
“I wish to have the means to heal any injury and return any person from death.”
And everything went quiet. All the power he was feeling only moments ago, felt like it was running off him, like dirt would in a shower.
He looked over to see Sora sitting in the ground shielding her face, much in the same manner she was when they first met the Kwami.
Both the earrings and ring started to burn lightly, so he ripped them off and threw them behind him, before running over to Sora and helping her stand.
Ra’s felt at his ear, where he just ripped the earring out, noticing the earrings didn’t leave so much as a scar.
Looking to check over Sora, he saw out of the corner of his eyes a bright green glow.
Both Ra’s and Sora looked over to see a neon, toxic green color at the bottom center of the pool.
It was mesmerizing how the green stretched from a small center at the bottom of the pool out, almost like tentacles, or tree roots growing out in the dirt.
He continued to watch until the entire pool was filled with the green, when he saw the same white and light blue flash out of the corner of his eyes. He tried to turn quickly and catch it, but the only thing he saw was an empty room.
A room empty of both the Black Cat and Ladybug miraculous.
----
Life went on relatively normal for Ra’s and Sora. They cleaned out the basement and removed the texts, as they were no use to him anymore, and cleaned the area.
When finding a name, they settled on one- Lazarus Pit - from a biblical story that Sora’s father mentioned in one of the texts.
He had said ‘he wanted to be able to do the same as the Christian’s god, and revive the dead. And if the wish truly worked, it would be able to, they had yet to try the pit and test the magic that quite obviously resided within it.
----
As time went on, and the pit remained below their feet, Ra’s continued his work as a physician, continuing working miracles without the use of the pit, which was an actual miracle. His reputation grew both of his physician's duties, and of the great mind he held. He was referred to as “the greatest mind of his age” by some.
Ra’s had heard him referred to as this on occasion, but he didn’t realize just how far word of his miracles went until the Sultan’s guard requested his aid in healing the prince who had fallen ill.
As the guards left his shop, leaving him with the letter asking him officially of his aid he immediately turned to Sora with quite possibly the largest smile he ever had on his face, “If I could cure the prince-- our reputation would be made, I’d have the funding to push my research forward-”
He was cut off by Sora who he only realized was rubbing her temple with her hands at his rant, “The prince is nothing but a cruel young aristo-- I’ve caught him leering at me in the Bazaar!”
“Don’t do this Ra’s. We can do without the Sultan’s money!” Sora pleaded to him. She held a look of concern on her face that Ra’s completely ignored, rather thinking about what he could possibly do with the benefits of healing a prince.
“You’re wrong! When I walked through the desert, I nurtured a dream. This is my way to fulfill it!”
Ra’s turned away from Sora, and headed down below the shop, to the Pit.
----
Everything went wrong. And Ra’s had no idea how.
Everything was going fine.
The royal guards had brought the sick prince to his shop as requested by Ra’s. The moment he saw the prince Ra’s knew that he was on his deathbed… he knew the only way to help him was using the Lazarus Pit.
He had the guards bring him down the ladder and he followed them, with Sora by his side.
They dipped the prince in the Pit. They let him wade. It was only seconds, maybe a minute, at most, before the prince burst out from under the water. Certainly not sickly like he was, to the point of not being able to walk, not like he was when he arrived.
For the briefest moment Ra’s lived in this fantasy where the Pit healed the Prince, and Ra’s got the reputation he wanted, the funding he needed, and got to continue the research that he always wanted to. He lived in this fantasy where he and Sora worked side-by-side, studied medicine, and became great physicians known for their miracles.
This fantasy ended when the prince left at Sora his eyes, we're not the same as they were when he went in; they were yellow and feral. There was a snap before the guards were able to subdue him. They only realized that the snap was from Sora’s neck. And Sora laid on the ground with scratch marks on her face, her head bent at an unnatural angle, and a small drop of blood dripping down her cheek, from her mouth.
Ra’s fell beside her body, unmoving, he saw out of the corner of his eyes, the prince stopped struggling in the guards' arms and seemed to gain some form of coherency of the situation, but he could not look away from her. He didn’t even breathe until the guards grabbed him as well and put a bag over his head.
Everything went wrong.
----
They said he killed her. The Sultan was told by the prince’s guards that his son had killed the wife of the physician that treated him for his illness.
That he had snapped her neck. In return the guards were killed. They could not have the truth be spread. It could cause uprising if such rumors were told to others. So, the moment he was told the story, directly from the prince’s guards who had been there, and he got assurance that they had taken the husband -the physician- and put him in the dungeons, and after that assurance was placed, he had his personal guards slit their throats.
It wasn’t hard to say it was the husband who did it. Without the guards to tell what happened, and the physician in such a state of shock he wouldn’t even talk, no one questioned what the Sultan said.
How did this happen again?
Why did the prince look like that?
He looked feral?
His eyes were near yellow?
Why would he attack her?
Why would he kill her?
Why did he seem to be fine after a minute or being restrained?
Why?
Why?
Why?
They were the only questions Ra’s was asking himself of late.
He was completely unreactive on the outside but was perfectly aware of what was happening. He was perfectly aware of how the Sultan was placing the blame on him. How the Sultan was saying he killed Sora. He killed his wife.
And yet he knew that regardless of the fact he was innocent, he would still be blamed and persecuted for her death. So, he sat still and continued to ask those questions in his head.
How did this happen again?
Why did the prince look like that?
He looked feral?
His eyes were near yellow?
Why would he attack her?
Why would he kill her?
Why did he seem to be fine after a minute or being restrained?
Why?
Why?
Why?
He knew he was being gagged, tied up, and dragged from his cell from the dungeons beneath the castle. He knew that this is when they would punish him. It would be death.
How he would die?
He did not know.
Likely a public flogging, beating, or torture of some kind before then bend him over a rock and to take his head off.
And to be honest, Ra’s couldn’t feel anything, he was completely numb as his knees, calves, and feet were dragged over the dirt, and cobble leaving long scars. He knew they were supposed to sting, and burn, and just hurt, but he couldn’t feel a thing. He knew that was a bad sign, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care.
He didn’t start to see anything until he saw it. There was a cage in the center of the courtyard, black iron, probably burning hot with the sun as it is, but that is not what caught his eye. It was the body of Sora that laid in it.
He started to feel the burn of the metal as they forced him in the same small cage as Sora. He was forced to curl in on himself as her body lay not 6 inches from him. Sat up against the side of the cage, with rope tied around her neck and waist, keeping her sitting upright, and facing the rest of the unbearably small cage. Her eyes still opened in the same shock they were in when he first was beside her body.
He felt as the cage was lifted up, the burn of the hot metal only worsening, as they carried the cage out to the city walls, to leave him in the desert to die.
----
His eyes never stayed off Sora’s for long. He remembered what her eyes looked like…
… these are not her eyes.
Sora’s eyes held none of what it used to. Her eyes held confidence, charm, they held stubbornness and defiance. All the things that made Sora the woman she was. All the things that were devoid in those eyes.
Those eyes were open and held only one thing: fear. And that was unlike Sora at all. Sora was never afraid.
But maybe she was of death. Maybe her eyes held fear because she realized what was going to happen…
...because she realized she was going to die.
----
Ra’s didn’t know how long he sat in that cage outside the city walls, staring into the unfamiliar eyes.
All he knew was that the trance was broken by the sound of creaking metal. The hinges. And the feeling of hands going under his arms and pulling him up. He had the strength to turn his head and be met with a face that was faintly familiar.
“Who are you?” He weakly rasped out. “Sabih, I’m a slave for the al-Hafiz family. You saved my mother from dysentery four months ago… I figured I owed you the same.”
And that’s all they said. That’s all they said when he walked back towards the al-Hafiz property. That’s all they said after Sabih settled him in the stables and fed him some water and leftover scraps. That’s all they said as Sabih handed Ra’s a small bag with some water, and food in it. That’s all they said before Ra’s returned to the outside of the city walls, and left on a search for the nomadic tribe he was born and raised in.
He didn’t know what to do, but he was going to figure it out, but not do it in that city.
----
It took him a few weeks, and some manual labor in return for supplies, before he found his uncle’s nomads and took control. It was relatively easy.
By the time he had found the nomads he had been able to sort through his mind. Find his priorities.
And right now, he wanted one thing: he wanted the great city to burn.
He wanted them all dead, he just had to be smart about it. He was thankful, now more than ever for the lessons Sora’s father gave.
He learned of how diseases spread, and the common ways they would extend across the city in the matter of weeks. How if they started within the markets, they would quickly spread across many of the peasants, and other middle-class folk, but they wouldn’t get much farther, and how if the diseases started amongst the slaves, they would spread much faster due to the unsanitary conditions, and they would often then be picked up by someone of upper class, as they traditionally had slaves, and spread.
It would be easy, he would start by giving a disease to the slaves, if the disease would spread quick enough, it could be passed down the classes and severely weaken the city. Especially if the slaves were hit first, considering that the city was built with them as their foundation.
----
The city was ravaged. Those who didn’t die of disease were killed by Ra’s and his men. When the priests of the Zoroastrian Delegation asked if they spared them and their Holy Towers of Silence. Ra’s turned to the man who was the messenger of the request and bared his teeth.
“Kill the priests. Burn their sacred buildings!”
Ra’s stood in before the destruction he caused. He returned to the city a very different man from when he first arrived there.
A man with a different dream…
Ra’s walked back to the old shop. One that he spent much time in. Leading the others down to the opening below the shop to allow them to see the Lazarus Pit.
“Uncle, you are still the leader of our tribe, but the tribe I am describing will stretch farther than the sands of Arabi. Stretch into every land… past the wall of every city.” Ra’s spoke keeping his voice low and authoritarian. His uncle let off a chuckle.
“Oh, nephew. Just like your father. You were always the dreamer. What you speak of it too… fantastical.” His words made Ra’s a bit angry, but a bit smug at the same time. His uncle had no idea what the Pit in front of his very eyes was capable of.
“*tch* My father never had half my vision, Uncle, nor half my talent.”
His uncle just sputtered in response, “But… it would take several lifetimes for one man to accomplish what you speak of!”
Ra’s just smirked at his words, “Yes, uncle. Yes indeed. And it will be quite some journey.”
“I don’t understand.”
Ra’s focused on the pit, reminded of Tikki’s words…
“You don’t understand, the wish has major repercussions, you can always ask for a way to heal the injured and dead, but that wish will have untold side-effects.”
“We cannot stop you from making the wish, but we must tell you, it will have repercussions, and the one who makes the wish will feel them deeply.”
He truly did. The creation of this wish helped him achieve one of his life’s greatest desires, one of his greatest loves, and in return he lost the love of his life, Sora.
And if you are to use the Lazarus Pit to heal physical injuries, you will suffer from temporary loss of sanity.
Truly a balance.
“You will learn in time. Time is something we have a great deal of. The destruction of this city… has unleashed a demon.
And I… Ra’s al Ghul… I am truly the Demon’s Head!”
----------
Heavily based off of Batman Annual Vol. 1 26
‘al Ghul’ translates to Demon’s Head in Arabic. Notice how that ‘al Ghul’ is only used during the quote at the beginning of the story(yes I did use a quote from the Nolan movies. It fit really well), and at the end when he loses it.
This is the closest I could possibly get to DC canon on Ra’s al Ghul’s origin. In the original Ra’s does not create the pits he simply finds them, with the help of maps left behind by the physician. I wrote this because I really wanted a Miraculous created Lazarus pit, but one that also had Sora in it. I really like her for the scene with the goat’s milk (that is comic accurate, you can check) and what happened to her was NOT deserved. I also wanted to show the human side of Ra’s, and how rage drove him to be such an evil person.
Also a headcanon of mine is that any miraculous jewelry that is some sort of piercing, does not actually require a piercing to wear, it will just go through the skin as if there was a piercing.
The ‘light blue flash’ that Ra’s thinks he hallucinated was a holder of the Rabbit miraculous leaving both the Ladybug and Black Cat miraculous to him. This is done because the Lazarus pits are necessary to a stable timeline, not because whatever holder of the Rabbit miraculous is active, thought it was a good idea. They were practically forced.
Ra’s and Sora were closer to each other than anyone else, she was referred to as the love of his life, and they really had a deep bond and when Sora was killed he was broken. In the comic I based this off of, Talia even says, “[...]the death of Sora broke your grandfather’s heart… and forever darkened his soul.” when speaking to Damian.
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vanderlindemorgans · 4 years ago
Text
Cross My Heart (Chapter 3)
Pairing: Agent Whiskey x Reader
Rating: Explicit/18+
Summary: A traitorous Agent Whiskey returns to the United States on the run. Being cast out by Statesman, he soon finds that you’re the only person he can turn to - the embittered former flame from years long passed
Word count: 3.4k
Warnings: Eventual smut, some references to alcoholism and drug use. Reader is in her late twenties but there is an age gap between her and Whiskey. Chapter specific warnings: none really but the reader is a tsundere, and there’s some vague awful knowledge on how horse ranches operate. 
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The next two weeks were about as awkward as one would expect them to be. Even without their already tense history with each other, it wouldn’t exactly be a situation that would be any easier to adjust to. For god's sake, he was hiding out in Texas and was wanted for treason against his former organisation. What about that was supposed to be easy for him?
The two of you had largely avoided each other during this time, sometimes even barely seeing each other during the day. For the first couple of days, Jack had spent most of his time upstairs at your insistence, in order to properly let his wounds heal. No matter how much he protested against you, you weren’t having a single second of his nonsense and told him rather firmly that it was for his own good to stay up there. Those were the days where he’d found himself utterly bored out of his brain - there were only so many books that were kept in that little guest bedroom, and even though the thought had crossed his mind a few times he’d already swore to you he wouldn’t go poking through the closets for anything.
When you’d finally deemed him in good enough shape to help around the ranch, then things had gotten better. Or at least, they’d gotten less boring. No matter what a part of his mind instinctually lingered on Statesman, whether that be on how so many years of loyalty to the organisation ended in a crashing blaze or how long he would have before they were able to track him down. He didn’t give himself much time on the run - a few months maximum if he was lucky before they inevitably caught onto him one way or another. Sometimes he wondered what the point of running even was if he believed so thoroughly that Statesman would catch up to him. The only answer he could ever give for himself to that was four simple words: I have to try. It may be a longshot, he may spend the rest of his life evading his former agency at every turn but goddamn he had to at least try to get away from it all. The things he’d done in Cambodia, the threat of death ever looming over him. He’d gotten lucky once escaping with his life, so who’s to say that couldn’t happen again? 
Stealing a brief glance over to where you were only metres away from him, cleaning out one of the older horses stalls, he couldn’t help but wonder about you. There was no doubt in his mind that you loathed him for what he did, and rightfully so he had to admit. The few words you had exchanged with each other during this time were terse and brief, and were mainly condensed to matters with looking after the animals or mundane things like asking where the keys were. Even from the start your demeanour hadn’t been remarkably bright, which in a way struck him as odd. You certainly weren’t the same girl he remembered dating years ago. Jack never expected you to be happy at his return into your life but there was something more too - even when you weren’t around him, when you were putting on a happy face for the different guests and customers something was missing still. When Jack had first met you, you were still only in college, and while on the surface you had that same snark that he found himself loving more and more about you with every time you’d spoken, there was also a sense of innocence there. He remembered how your moral code was always focused on doing the right thing, how you wanted to believe that deep down everyone had some good in them. It was something he’d admired about you - even back then he was jaded by the world, having witnessed so much wickedness firsthand both through his position at Statesman and from his own life before that. Some would call you naive for having that much faith in humanity, but he’d found it endlessly endearing. 
He wasn’t inclined to say that you no longer believed in doing what’s right - you had taken him in when there was nowhere else to turn. But that brightness in your eyes, the unwavering trust you’d always been willing to give. That was what was gone, extinguished like it was never even there to begin with. He had to wonder if he was largely responsible for this change, if the reason you’d become so passingly apathetic and distrustful was because of his actions. Most likely that was the case, and from what you’d said a couple of weeks back about your parents passing away it was no wonder you were no longer that spunky wide-eyed girl from Texas, that you had become so sullen and moody. A lot had clearly happened in those seven years of silence, and for that he felt truly remorseful for how he’d hurt you.
You hadn’t mentioned that night so far, so a part of Jack felt willing to leave things as is and only focus on being as little of a hassle to you as possible during this time. If you mention the breakup you run the risk of making things worse, he reasoned with himself. As much as he wanted to apologise, explain himself a little bit, he knew that you were never going to believe a word he said. You believed him to be nothing more than a lying son of a bitch who was only interested in the thrill of the chase and not ever after anything truly committed. He could still hear those cutting remarks slip from your lips as if it were only yesterday. “You know what you are? You’re a fucking liar, Jack Daniels. What happened to forever and always? Or did you forget that?”. 
“Hey, Jack, there should be a new delivery of fresh hay coming through for the horses in the next couple of minutes. Do me a favour and go greet them for me, will ya?” he heard your voice ring out, interrupting his train of thought and bringing him back to reality. “Sure thing, darlin’” he nodded, setting aside the bag of grain he’d been giving each of the horses and stepping aside over towards the stables entrances, only just missing the hasty look you shot him out the corner of his eye.
___
You didn’t know what had come over you. All morning you had been distracted by him, your eyes wandering over to where he was feeding the horses, running his hand across their manes and giving them a gentle pet. Jack had always been great with animals, something the both of you had in common. Rolling your eyes to yourself, you continued to direct your focus on raking out all manner of gunk and mess from the stalls, somewhat annoyed to even be reminiscing on such long forgotten things. Normally you were level headed and focused but ever since Jack had appeared back in your life out of the blue things had gotten a tad stranger for you. It didn’t surprise you in the least that his presence in your house ignited old memories, coaxing out both the bitter and bright from their place dormant at the back of your mind. The two of you had barely said a word to each other in those two weeks and yet here you were, being plagued by ghosts of the past. You wondered if Jack felt the same way, if he could also feel the awkward tension ripe between you. In your opinion, you’d have to be an idiot not to notice.
It didn’t make sense to you. You’d thought you’d long since moved on from the pain he’d caused you, focusing on maintaining a steady rhythm and pace in your own life and being far too busy with the ranch to even let your thoughts wander to your ex-boyfriend. With him around though, it was bringing everything back, almost as if none of it had ever left in the first place. Safe to say, all of it made you more than a bit agitated
But you couldn’t have just left him out there to fend for himself. No, you weren’t heartless, and taking him in was the right thing to do. You could handle the irritating flashbacks and echoes as long as it meant he was safe and alive. And besides, this was only temporary. He’d no doubt find somewhere else to jet off to in a matter of weeks and leave you to return back to your normal routine. It was odd having someone else in the house anyway, after spending so many years alone. Suddenly you had to be considerate for someone else, integrating them into your own routine, your way of life.
And, truth be told, a small part of you didn’t mind the company one bit. Not that you’d ever say that outloud of course. No, you’d rather kill yourself before admitting to anyone, lest Jack himself, that you actually liked having someone else around. Even if words exchanged were few and far between, there was an element of comfort to having someone stay with you. Though you largely chalked this small feeling up to spending too long in solitude. 
Another thing that had taken you by surprise was Jack’s behaviour. You’d fully expected to have to once again deal with his antics, the annoying and frustratingly devilish charm he exuded in every quick witted remark, that smirk of his you’d come to know so well that once upon a time was enough to make you bend to him, and you’d prepared yourself the best you could to combat him back. You were determined to not let him get under your skin and not be taken in by his charm: you knew better now. Strange as it was though, none of that ever ended up coming to pass. In the few interactions you did have with each other a day, Jack was being mostly polite and keeping to himself. Sure, there were a few banter-like comments sprinkled here and there, this was Jack Daniels after all, but they were few and far between. He still hadn’t told you the finer details of what had happened between him and those other agents but it must have been enough to knock him down a few pegs in the ego department judging by his demeanour. That, or he felt the stifling awkwardness between you two and felt it best to dial himself back a bit. Maybe it was a mix of both. You really couldn’t say for sure though. 
Shaking your head, you shifted focus back on to the list of tasks you needed to get through that day before the ranch opened for business. It was around seven in the morning, and opening hours were from eight-thirty to six, and it was a Wednesday so business was moderate. You had a couple of kids booked for riding lessons later on as well as some people coming to rent out specific horses for rides, plus a doctor coming to look at one of the pregnant mares for a checkup. Not exactly what you would call a hectic day but still not a walk in the park either. You also had a couple of deliveries coming in that day, speaking of which, you remembered, one was scheduled to arrive in only a few moments.
You shouted out for Jack to go meet with the delivery guy, and you watched him as he sauntered out of the stables in search of the van, your eyes catching a glimpse of that ridiculous oversized belt buckle of his as it glinted in the early morning light. There were some things about that man you just never understood, his affinity for that tacky buckle being one of them. 
You turned your attention back to your current task of cleaning out the horses stalls. Years ago when you were a young kid you’d turned up your nose at the idea of having to shove around manure and urine soaked hay twice a day, though years passed and you barely even noticed or cared about the grossness of the stench. Shoving the last bits of hay into a large plastic garbage bag, you turned back over to where the old mare was standing in the corner, looking disinterested as usual and blew on a stray strand of hair that had fallen into your eyes. “Looks like I’m all done here, Jack should be back with the hay for you in a moment” you mused, to which the animal in question lightly grunted back at you, as if it could understand exactly what you’d just said.
“Yeah, yeah, I know old girl. Just sit tight, ok?” you replied, stepping out of the stall and dragging the gate behind you, clearing the latch click just as Jack walked back in with an armful of hay bales. “I got the guy unloading the rest from his van, this should last ya a little over two weeks” he informed you, eliciting a general nod in his direction as a reply. “Good, that’s what I was hoping for. Just put it over by the door and I’ll sort it out in a bit” you instructed, looking down at your wristwatch for the time. 7:40 am - perfectly on schedule. The rest of your employees would be arriving soon, so tasks would be able to be knocked out faster too. 
The low sound of a yawn pulled you from your thoughts as you looked up over to where Jack was stacking the bales of hay, lightly rubbing a hand over his face. “Tired are we, Jack?” you commented, raising your brow slightly at him. 
“A little” he admitted. “Forgot to make myself a coffee this mornin’, and truth be told I didn’t get the best sleep last night”. 
“Is everything alright up there? I’d hate for you to be uncomfortable” you said, a little bit of sarcasm working its way into your tone. You just couldn’t help it, and in your mind, he well deserved every little lick of ire you could throw his way. 
“Everythings perfect, darlin’, I’m just...my mind tends to wander late at night. Things to do with Statesman and such, nothin’ for you to really be concerned about” he dismissed, shifting on his heel towards where the delivery man was bringing in the last of the stock he’d brought over. You didn’t move a single step, instead watching him thank the man and take the supplies off him, a small feeling of sympathy sparking that you quickly shrugged off like it was nothing. People dealt with insomnia all the time, you reasoned. And he said himself that it was nothing to worry about so that was that.
Neither of you said a word for the next couple of minutes, yet some part of the conversation was still at the back of your mind. You didn’t understand why - it was a pretty mundane exchange of words overall however you couldn’t help but still feel you needed to say something more.
“Sometimes I find it hard to sleep too. Usually that’s when I get up and go get a book or something. Anything that works as a distraction to whatever's on my mind” you found yourself saying out of nowhere. You could feel Jack glance over at you but you didn’t meet his gaze, keeping your own eyes trained down on the floor that you were sweeping. “I’ll have to keep that in mind then” you heard him say in response, to which you acknowledged him with a small nod and a slight side glance. In an instant afterwards, you minorly chastised yourself for saying something so stupid and random to him. Great, now you’ve made it even more awkward. You should have just kept your mouth shut. Even still, it was hard to miss that sweet look in Jack’s eyes when he’d replied back, when your eyes had met briefly for that small moment.
___
The loud sound of incessant beeping awoke you from your deep slumber, the noise becoming more and more grating with each second that passed. Mumbling under your breath you reached your hand out from underneath the sheets to flick the alarm off, your eyes only just beginning to adjust to the room around you as the last remnants of your dream melted away into nothing, being replaced by the stark wooden panelling of the walls and the feeling of textured quilt on the edge of your feet. There was barely any light in the room as the sun hadn’t come up yet, and wouldn’t rise for another fifteen minutes or so, leaving your vision time to adjust to the world around you as you rose up in bed and sighed.
Every morning it seemed you told yourself that you needed a vacation, a couple of days off to get away from it all and kick back a little. Sometimes you’d indulge yourself in the thought - taking a plane off to somewhere and not coming back for a couple of weeks. You never actually did it though, not due to a lack of finances but moreso that you didn’t even know what you’d do with yourself with all that time. As much as ranch work dragged on some days, the methodical nature of it kept you grounded and focused. What the hell were you supposed to do without it?
Shuffling off to the edge of the bed, you fumbled around for a pair of socks in your bedside drawer and slipped them onto your feet, your mind starting to wander off to that ever present list of tasks and chores you kept for yourself. The harder you thought on it, the more muddled your brain seemed to get. Leave the to-do list for after you’ve had coffee.
Your body was practically on autopilot as you moved out into the hallway and down the stairs, wanting to hurry to get that invigorating rush that caffeine gave you. The actual taste of the drink you were never totally partial to, truth be told: drinking it had more to do with the fact it woke you up and made you feel less like wanting to die every early morning. No matter how many years passed or long you kept doing this for, you just never became a morning person.
You didn’t notice it at first when you’d reached for two mugs instead of one out of the cupboard, only really caring about attempting to make yourself a coffee as fast as possible that hopefully wasn’t totally shitty in quality. You didn’t notice when you loaded up the espresso machine that you put enough coffee in for two instead of one, or when you put in extra milk in the frother. Really, it only had come to your attention that you’d done any of those things when you suddenly stared back at the kitchen counter and noticed two full mugs of coffee instead of one.
Staring back and forth between the two, you felt your brow crease while you moved your hand up to your neck, lightly rubbing on the back. Huh. Guess I must be really spaced this morning if I made two. As if on cue, you started to hear the sounds of Jack stirring upstairs, and without a second thought you grabbed both mugs in your hand and glided over towards the kitchen table, setting them both down and taking a seat in one of the well worn chairs.
“Hey. I made two by accident. You can have the other one I guess” you announced while watching him transcend down the stairs, gesturing vaguely over towards the other mug. You saw Jack glance up at you, his mussed hair and semi-dazed expression showing that he was probably half asleep still. He hadn’t bothered to dress himself yet, wearing the tight fitting white t-shirt you’d managed to fish out from a back cupboard somewhere and a pair of equally plain pajama pants. He looked...good, somehow, though you weren’t about to say that outloud. You could only imagine the smug self-satisfied smirk that type of remark would garner. 
He slowly walked up towards the table and gently scooped up the mug in his hand, running his thumb over the edge lightly. “Accident, huh? If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were starting to warm up to me a little” he teased. You rolled your eyes back at him and took another sip of coffee. “Oh, shut up”.
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snifflesthemouse · 4 years ago
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I'm still rather new to Tumblr. While I've clearly displayed my ability to post my ramblings, I'm still figuring out the other various features of this platform. For the sake of reference, I have posted a screenshot below.
While I completely agree with @youhavebeenmarkled that it's grossly inappropriate to suggest Catherine, the future Queen Consort, is a drug addict... I want to add to the discussion and further develop why the concept of Catherine microdosing heroin is entirely ignorant.
@youhavebeenmarkled mentions several excellent points as to why the concept is ridiculous; from genetics to muscle tone and more. But there's deeper reasons why this idea of Catherine being on heroin is so far from the truth and reality, it's out of this world. Some could even argue it sounds like a page from a Hollywood script.
Before I get started, though, I want (and need) to stress a few things. I am in no way shaming anyone. As I've shared in the past, I am the last person in the universe qualified to pass judgement on anything or anyone. My posts are simply my perspectives, my opinions. I look at facts in the public domain, and with my own knowledge and life experience, I form my thoughts.
Please remember while you read this, I am not looking down on anyone. I am not bragging about knowing what drug addiction is or is not. I am only sharing some insights with you, the reader, on what real life heroin addiction is like. My only goal is giving insight.
I am not proud of my past, and I am not condoning it. Nor should you. Accountability is how I stay clean. Please do not feel like I am suggesting non-addicts are ignorant or "square". Not knowing or understanding heroin addiction is a blessing. It's a good thing to be in the dark about certain things because it means you're smarter than people like me.
Be proud of the fact you don't automatically see why these blind items are total nonsense from the start. And if you aren't proud of yourself, just know I am proud AF of you. For those of you like myself who have been through the hell of addiction, remember we do recover. With all that being said, let's get going.
You see, anyone with firsthand experience or knowledge of true heroin addiction would automatically know these rumors are absolutely ridiculous. Why? Because heroin addiction doesn't work that way.
Now don't get me wrong. The world is filled with functioning closet addicts. I myself was a functioning closet addict for years before the world was any the wiser. The key point, though, is the world did eventually get wiser.
Heroin addiction usually starts out in one of a few ways. Most Americans addicted to heroin became that way because of prescription painkillers. For example, I first got addicted to pain pills. When the pain pills became impossible to get, I took what I could get that was the closest equivalent. That was heroin.
But some people start using heroin because they did some at a party with friends. Or they have a loved one addicted and wanted to see what the fuss was all about. Some people are hooked on other drugs, like cocaine or ecstasy, and their usual dealer offers a free sample of the latest batch of heroin. There's a saying among addicts; "The first one's free."
Dealers know they can increase their profitability if they can get established clients addicted to other products they traffic. But these are just a few examples of how people get started using heroin. Very rarely does anyone start out on heroin simply because they want to stay thin. Contrary to the popular belief known to many as "heroin chic" that came from supermodels in the mid 80s and 90s.
Heroin is what addicts refer to as a euphoria narcotic. It has a euphoric effect, and it is sometimes called a "downer". Cocaine, crack cocaine, methamphetamine, or amphetamines are called "uppers" or "speeders" because they stimulate the brain and give energy. While heroin can have that affect on people, it is not the traditional go-to for illicit weight management.
In other words, if Catherine really did use microdosing (a concept I will debunk in a moment), her first, best choice would be a stimulant like cocaine because it's much more effective at appetite suppression and providing energy. Heroin wouldn't be the first, best choice for many reasons.
Because of its nature, heroin is highly addictive. Most users begin snorting the drug in powder form. Within seconds to a minute, the substance enters the bloodstream and hits the brain. The brain then releases endorphins that travel the rewards pathway in the brain. The first time one uses heroin is the highest they will ever feel from using. Every subsequent dose releases less and less endorphins in the brain. This is why recovering addicts talk about chasing their sobriety like they chased their first high. This is also why microdosing is an almost-impossible behavior.
Microdosing means taking tiny, small amounts over time. Meaning that you only use the minimum amount to achieve the effect you desire. But the problem is, your brain becomes physically dependent on the substance over time. Every time an addict uses, the brain gets more dependent on that substance to function. So, while a non-addict's brain has no issues with their brain producing endorphins, an addict's brain does. This is why heroin is so addictive.
Eventually, a heroin addict's brain will become so reliant on heroin to produce endorphins, the addict will become entirely dependent. This is also known as becoming hooked. When the addict doesn't have the minimum amount of heroin the body is accustomed to, or depending upon, the addict will start withdrawal. This is often called being "dope sick" or "detoxing".
Detoxing or being dope sick is the driving force behind addicts staying addicts. Being dope sick is the biggest fear of an addict. So much so, the fear of detoxing is enough to drive otherwise good, decent human beings to doing absolutely whatever it takes to avoid detoxing. Stealing from loved ones, manipulating innocent bystanders, lying, cheating, robbing, selling your body... are the half of it.
Being dope sick is like having the worst flu of your life times a million. You will vomit, have uncontrollable diarrhea, and your body will hurt worse than anything you could ever imagine. If you detox for more than a day, you will begin to feel like your insides are shaking, burning, and pulling apart inside. You can't sleep. You can't eat. You can't get out of bed. You miss work and lose your job (if you still have one at this point). You get desperate before this point, and you get carnal after this point.
Your brain and entire body becomes dependent on this substance to function subpar. Without this substance, everything begins to stop working properly. Depending on exactly how much you use normally, your withdrawal can become life threatening. You can have seizures, strokes, or even go into cardiac arrest. Hopefully you can see by now why I say the concept of microdosing is ridiculous.
To be able to micro dose would require the self control and willpower of a super human. This reminds me of an article I once read about a college professor who advocated for drug use. He claimed he wasn't addicted, had control of his drug use, and was a productive member of society. He said he'd use heroin like others drink after a long day of work. Yet, he's been using it for over a decade. Yet, he experienced detoxing. That professor is a prime example of an addict in denial. But I digress...
My points are this:
1. Heroin wouldn't be the first choice for weight control or appetite suppression; cocaine or stimulants like meth or ritalin would be.
2. Microdosing is an almost-impossible method of drug use because the body gets hooked quickly. Which means the dose will only increase in amount in order to have the same effects over time.
3. Heroin causes an addiction that results in serious, life threatening withdrawal that drives even the nicest person to doing the worst of the worst.
4. Heroin addiction, even in small amounts, takes no time to invade and overtake one's life. It literally only takes one time to get hooked. It literally takes no time to destroy everything.
Oh, and one more thing before I put a sock in it... at the height of my active addiction, I was using around 2 grams a day to feel normal. I spent at minimum $200 a day on heroin. Sometimes even more. When I started out, I was only using a tenth or less. It takes 10 of those to make a gram. So within two months of starting, I went from doing one tenth to needing 20 of those tenths just to feel normal and function. All the while, I never got smaller than 150 pounds.
I know it sounds terrible, but I would lament over how unfair it was. I was doing all this heroin, and I was still thick AF. I would literally joke to fellow addicts I would use with how it was total bullshit. How was it I was using 2 grams a day and still a size 12 or 14? That's how sick I was in my disease. Which is my final point.
Not everyone on heroin is "heroin chic" skinny. The effort, will power, and self control it would take to "microdose" would be far greater than what it would take to control one's diet and exercise. Plus it would be much cheaper to hire a trainer than employ a drug dealer.
I hope this very long, detailed, winded post gives better insight to the deeper reasons the blind item is so dumb. I also hope it gives insight to the real life of heroin addiction. My goal was, and is, to provide real examples to the blind item's absurdity. If I can help people better understand heroin addiction, potentially deterring someone from ever touching it or even a loved one learning something that could help someone they know struggling with addiction... well that would be a bonus.
P.S. If you or a loved one you know is struggling with addiction, there is help out there. If you have any questions or just need someone to listen, please feel free to message me. I will do my best to help. I've been there. They say the only way to keep your sobriety is by giving it away... I have plenty to give. Be forewarned, though, I am unapologetically blunt and honest to a fault. I mean no harm, but I will not sugar coat anything.
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retrievablememories · 4 years ago
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a strange love | yuta (m)
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title: a strange love pairing: alien!yuta x black!reader genre: sci-fi/fantasy, fluff, angst, smut request: “I read a good chunk of your NCT work and really liked them. Would I be able to request a fic where a black female reader meets an alien (can be Yuta or Jungwoo) and they're both coming to terms that they're attracted to each other and have to come to terms with being attracted to someone of a different species? Can be smutty and don't be afraid to give the alien a less human biology if you don't mind.” word count: 13.1k warnings: alcohol use, cursing, near drowning experience, lots of mentions of water so this one might not mesh well with people w/ aquaphobia, non-human biology/body horror, extraterrestrial sex, lots of cum, oral sex (female receiving), tentacle dick, unprotected sex, creampie, please heed the warnings because this is an alien smutfic lmao a/n: giving the shape of water teas. i’ve actually never seen that movie 😕 but i will at some point. forgive me in advance for the nerdy references in here.
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It’s funny how things happen when you least expect it. You never would’ve thought you’d be sound asleep when your entire world changed.
The night the UFO crashes in your city, you’re awoken by the tremors of its landing. The vibrations feel akin to an earthquake, and they make picture frames and other trinkets fall off your shelves and hit the floor in a clatter of noise. You jump up from your pillow at the racket, your heart pounding. You glance at the things lying on your floor and quickly register that the room—your entire home—is trembling.
There’s not much you can do at this point but ride it out, so you huddle down in your covers and hope the roof doesn’t cave in on your head. To your knowledge, your particular area isn’t known for earthquakes, which makes all of this even stranger. What could be causing one now? Is the world finally ending?
Eventually, the tremors stop. By now, your shelves have been emptied of nearly all their contents, but you’re still alive, which you’re grateful for. You wait a few more minutes to see if the shakes will begin again, but they don’t, so you climb out from the warmth of your covers to clean up your floor.
Police and ambulance sirens start blaring through the city not long after you get out of bed. That’s nothing unusual; there are usually injuries and casualties with natural disasters like these, and you expect many poor souls will be needing rescue tonight. You sigh and look at your closed blinds, watching them be sporadically illuminated by the lights of the emergency vehicles rushing past.
Once you’ve cleaned up your room and gotten back in bed, you think about checking social media for what people have been saying about the quake. There’s no doubt that the city’s residents have taken to Twitter and Instagram to document it. However, your eyelids are already starting to droop, and you’d probably fall asleep in the middle of scrolling, so you decide to tuck in and wait until morning.
Waking up the next day almost seems like a normal Sunday until you look at your blinds again and are suddenly reminded of last night’s flashing lights. Right. The earthquake. Throwing the covers back, you stumble out of bed to turn on your TV. You flip through the channels until you find a news station for your local area. You go to open the blinds, keeping your ears open for reports on the earthquake.
“Last night, we experienced unprecedented seismic activity throughout the majority of the city, caused by what appears to be an unidentified flying object, otherwise known as a UFO—”
Huh?
You turn to the TV, thinking this must be some kind of ridiculous hoax. You get ready to reach for the remote, thinking you must have turned it to one of those parody news channels by accident, but you freeze at what you see. Video footage of the city center—or what used to be the city center—plays on the screen. In place of the large historical monument that used to stand there, there’s a huge...silver and black spaceship. Or at least you think it’s a ship. It apparently sustained major damage in the landing, and now it looks more like a hunk of melted metal. The area around it has been blasted clear in every direction. Instead of green grass and pavement, there’s nothing but dirt.
The area is blocked off with yellow tape, though hundreds of people have gathered at the location to check out the object and take pictures and videos of it.
“What the fuck…” you whisper to yourself.
“We’re currently unsure where this UFO originated from, though we can confirm that it is not affiliated with any aircraft fleets owned by the U.S. military. Researchers and scientists from top universities across the country are being called in to assist in identifying this craft…”
“There’s no just way,” you mutter, grabbing your shower cap and pulling clothes out of your closet for your morning shower. “A UFO...guess that alien invasion is coming sooner than we thought.” You would like to believe it’s all just someone playing a terrible prank, but pulling off this level of theatrics is impossible.
After you get out of the shower and start making breakfast for yourself, you get a text from one of your coworkers, Alex.
10:30 A.M. Alex🍸 You seeing this shit on the news right now?
10:31 A.M. Obviously! It’s fucking wild. Do you really think it’s true? OR some elaborate government hoax? Anything’s possible. I’m betting “true,” but...
10:33 A.M. Alex🍸 I honestly don’t know. that’s why me and some of the others from work are about to head over there now. Wanna come?
10:34 A.M. The hell! I’ll pass. There could be all types of radiation n shit, I’m not tryna turn into the Green Lantern or the Hulk or somebody.
10:35 A.M. Alex🍸 lmFAO. Suit ypurself. If I gain superpowers don’t be surprised if I fly over to your house today.
10:35 A.M. You’re a mess. 💀
You spend breakfast watching more news reports and scrolling through Twitter feeds for firsthand information. People who visited the site, including your coworkers, have uploaded pictures of the UFO from various angles, inciting a frenzy of conspiracy theories and warnings that the world is about to end.
You don’t know what to make of the situation, but it stays on your mind throughout the day as you leave the house and go about completing your usual errands. The city center has been blocked off to all vehicles other than those belonging to people who’ve been called in to help, which means that traffic is sky-high everywhere else—even for a Sunday.
Sitting in a mishmash of cars, you roll down your window and sigh, looking out at the red traffic lights, and beyond that to the horizon. Things are about to get very weird for the next few weeks. Maybe months. You can only hope you’re prepared for it.
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You don’t know why, but the air seems strange tonight.
It’s been 2 days since the UFO crashed. There haven’t been many more answers apart from what everyone already knows due to the ship’s destroyed state. The city has professionals out for that sort of thing, but they’re taking their sweet time analyzing the ship—though you can’t really blame them. Jumping straight into unknown alien tech seems like a death wish.
Your life has been pretty much the same as usual, though you know a few people at work who have been more directly affected by the events. One girl, Sooyoung, who lives in the neighborhood near the crash site claims the officials are thinking about having that entire area evacuate, though you don’t know why they’re beating around the bush about it if it’s true. Whatever radiation or chemicals they’re worried about has probably already leached into all the surrounding homes, and now you’re just waiting for someone to walk into your workplace with antlers or purple skin.
Admittedly, you’re morbidly curious about the case and what all of this could mean for Earth’s future, but you keep your fascination lowkey. You don’t need any of your coworkers thinking you’re the next alien-obsessed Mulder from X-Files. But then again, you’re not curious enough to visit the actual scene, so maybe you’re not the crazy one here.
You feel fine when you get home from work that day, but as you get washed up and settle into your usual evening routine, you can’t shake the eeriness gripping your subconscious. It’s not necessarily a bad feeling, either, just...foreign. Like an emotion you’ve never felt before, though you didn’t know there were even still new emotions to discover. Shaking your head, you figure maybe you should lay off the alien stuff for the rest of the week.
Before you head to bed that night, you go around the house making sure all the doors and windows are locked as you normally do. You pause at the backdoor for a reason you can’t explain, and the strange feeling grows stronger. At this point, you’re a bit frightened about what this is all about, but you can’t go to sleep without knowing. Curiosity takes over as you open the blinds and stare into the darkness of your backyard.
You don’t see anything right away. There are trees, bushes, your potted plants, and lawn chairs...everything looks normal. It’s only when you lean closer to the glass to squint that you see a figure lying in the grass. You jump once you catch sight of it, terrified that some monster or murderer has found their way onto your property. There was nothing there earlier when you closed the blinds, so whoever or whatever it is must’ve recently showed up.
You’re about ready to dial 911 when you realize the figure is curled in the fetal position and unmoving...almost like they’re unconscious. Or dead.
This is ridiculous. You feel like one of those people who always dies first in the horror movies because they went into the room the killer was obviously hiding in, but you’re overcome with the strong impulse to step outside. You grip the doorknob tightly, debating whether you should unlock it or not.
“...Fuck. Don’t let me regret this.”
You open the door with your phone in hand, the device serving as your flashlight. There’s still the screen door to get through, which you pause at for a moment. The figure remains unmoving even with the sound of the door opening.
“Hello?!” You call out to the individual, but there’s no response. Your phone’s light can’t reach them from there, which forces you to open the screen door and step out onto the porch. They’re still feet away, but from this closer distance, it seems like they’re wearing a sort of armor or full-body suit...maybe like a cosplay?
“Hope this isn’t some weirdo weeb passed out on my lawn…” you mutter, cautiously stepping onto the grass. As you approach, you can see now that the figure is likely male, though their back is to you so you can’t be totally sure. “Um, hello there? Can you hear me?” No response.
By now, you are only a few feet away from them. The person looks to be an Asian guy, with long blonde hair haloing his face. His features are angular and smooth, and he is indeed wearing some kind of body armor, its color unlike anything you’ve seen. Instead of being all one hue or even a few, it reflects the light from your phone and glows with a rainbow-like phosphorescence. The material itself looks translucent, but you can’t see through it; it creates a mind-bending optical illusion.
Your stomach suddenly drops to your feet. Is this who was in that UFO in the city center? It seems too out-there to be true, but your intuition is telling you otherwise. This can’t be fucking real.
You kneel on the wet grass next to the man and try to look for signs of life. You can hear his breathing, so he’s thankfully not dead. But he doesn’t look to be in good shape, either. He definitely won’t be able to get up on his own; he probably used the last of his energy to drag himself into your yard.
“Damn.” You turn the flashlight off and slip your phone into your sweatpants pocket. It seems like there’s no other options right now. You could call the police, but they’d probably accuse you of being in cahoots with this weird dude and drag you off to jail. Or they could cart him off for government experimentation, which sounds equally terrible. So with those things in mind, you gently maneuver his upper body until you’re able to hook your arms under his armpits and drag him towards your house.
You just really hope none of your nosy neighbors are seeing this right now.
He’s surprisingly light, and you get him inside the house fairly quickly. Once you’ve locked the door again, you pull him over to the living room so he’s propped against your couch. He still isn’t fully conscious, but his head and lips move as if he’s dreaming about something.
“What was that…?” You lean closer, trying to read his lips for some sort of clue. Surprisingly, you can make out the word water, which he mouths over and over again. “Water…” You run into the kitchen to pour a glass and bring it back to him, making sure not to spill any on the way over.
You press it to his lips, unsure if he’ll be able to drink, but to your amazement his muscles respond and he drinks quickly as you tip the glass. Soon, the water is all gone. You set the glass to the side with your palms sweating and watch as his face flutters even more. 
“Can you...hear me?”
His eyes open only slightly. This movement seems to cause him some pain, though you aren’t sure why. Maybe he has a headache since he was dehydrated? You scramble to turn the overhead light off, not wanting to make matters worse. He still doesn’t try to open his eyes any wider, though.
“Who are you? Were you...did you crash here?” You feel a little bad about asking so many questions, but you’re dying for answers as to what the hell is going on.
The man licks his lips, and his mouth parts like he’s going to answer. But his throat is still dry, and it hurts to talk.
“...Shit.” You get him another glass of water and let him drink until it’s gone again. He seems a little better after that.
“Th-this...” He clears his throat a couple times and tries again. “This is E-Earth, right?”
Now you’re the one lost for words. Although you already figured he couldn’t be from here, hearing it out loud makes your blood rush and your heart race. “Um, yes...this is Earth. Was...the UFO yours?”
He sighs, and his head falls back against the couch arm. “Yes.”
“It’s destroyed,” you say, and then feel silly about it. “But you already know that.” 
He doesn’t answer that. He just slowly glances around your living room instead, looking as if he’s never seen a stranger setup. The quietness is awkward, and you almost feel like he must be judging your taste for interior design. “Do you have a name?”
More silence. You decide he probably won’t answer until he finally says, “You can call me Yuta.”
“Yuta.” You tell him your name too, and he just nods, almost imperceptibly. He doesn’t say much without prompting, which makes it hard for you to know how to approach the situation. You don’t want to overwhelm him with questions, but it doesn’t look like he’s going to speak unless you do. “How did you end up here? I mean, in my—uh, my yard?”
Yuta shakes his head and then winces. “I crashed, and then...I just ran. The ship was melting. I just ran. I hid...I went from place to place, hiding. Don’t know how I got here.”
You wonder how he made it all the way from the city center to your home without being spotted, especially with that armor. You can only conclude that he must be stealth at hiding. Or maybe someone did spot him and the feds are about to bust down your door any minute. You take a shaky breath and try to push that anxious thought to the back of your mind.
Suddenly Yuta fixes you with a suspicious glare. “Will you reveal that I’m here?”
You try not to get offended, because you’d honestly be thinking the same if you were a newly-landed alien in a foreign land. “No. I don’t have any reason to do that. I just want to help. I’m not looking to be on anyone’s 6 o’clock news or cheap tabloid. You probably don’t believe me, but you can have my word for it...if that means anything to you.”
He’s quiet again, though you can tell he’s still skeptical.
“Um, do you need anything? More water?”
He sits up straighter at the mention of that. “Water.” You reach for the glass again, but he frowns. “Not that. I need…something more than that.” He looks around again, but when he doesn't see what he’s searching for, he attempts to stand only to slump down again.
“Slow down there, I don’t think you’re gonna make it like that. Can I help?”
You end up slinging his arm across your shoulder and letting him lean his body against you while you lead him to the bathroom. That’s the biggest source of water in the house, and you assume he must be wanting a bath or shower or something. Even aliens have their hygiene needs, you guess.
You turn the bathroom light on and have Yuta sit on the toilet lid as you turn the bathtub faucet. “Is...this what you meant?” He nods, and you put the plug in and let the tub fill up.
“Just water. Nothing else. I need to recharge,” he says, and before you can ask what he means by that, he starts undressing in front of you. 
At first, your reaction is delayed; you’re struck with surprise when you realize the armor isn’t actually a whole bodysuit, but more like...connected panels of material that can be taken off. You don’t understand the material at all, it doesn’t resemble anything on Earth you can think of—but of course, it’s alien tech. It conforms to his body as he’s wearing it but takes on a more rigid form once it’s peeled off, like actual armor.
Then, he gets ready to take the bottoms off and something finally clicks in your brain that oh my God he’s about to get naked in front of me.
“Whoa!” You spin around and cover your eyes for good measure, glad that your brown skin hides the way your face is burning right now. You step towards the open door. “Uh, I’ll just leave, sorry—”
“Doesn’t matter.”
“Um, what?”
“Doesn’t really matter to me,” Yuta says, pulling the last of his suit off. He steps into the tub and sits down in it, putting his hands underneath the stream of water rushing out of the faucet. The skin on his hands seems to ripple, like it’s readjusting itself, and the hairs stand up on the back of your neck at that. You forget to be embarrassed at his unclothed state as you watch it happen.
“What’s going on with that? And why did you need the water?”
Yuta splashes his face before answering, and he turns to look at you, the droplets of water sliding off the ends of his hair. “I’m part of a Water Race. Water is my home. Our bodies have adapted to be built for living in water, and it’s dangerous to be without it for too long.”
“Adaptation? But you look like a regular human.”
“It’s just a skin.”
“A skin?” You echo in horror, a sudden flashback to Silence of the Lambs popping into your mind. “Someone else’s skin?” 
Yuta gives you a look that seems to say he can’t believe you’re asking such a stupid question. “No, it’s my skin. It’s just not my natural form.” To prove his point, he holds his hand out, and right before your eyes his human skin pulls back and morphs into something much more scaly and green. His fingers are actually more like talons, with long black nails on the ends, and there’s translucent webbing between each one.
You gasp and step back, trying to catch your breath at the sight of something so very not human. The skin reforms around his hand—you assume he has to be willing it with his mind somehow, because he doesn’t even move—and his digits look just as human as ever.
“How the hell do you hide your nails under there? Isn’t it just like...wearing a bodysuit?”
Yuta shakes his head. “No. Once the skin is on, it becomes...part of me. My hand becomes a human hand. I’m not hiding anything, it just is. It’s hard to explain.”
“Have you been to Earth before? Is that why you have a human skin, because...adaptation or some shit? This is all so wild.”
“I can shift into different skins if I want, if I gather enough genetic information on certain species’ inhabitants...but there are limitations.” That doesn’t exactly answer your question, but you figure maybe it’s best if you didn’t know. You can at least assume he’s been in contact with humans before.
“I see…” You fidget for a few seconds before speaking what’s on your mind. “Okay, one last thing...you said there are limitations. Does that mean you can’t transform into, like...a dung beetle or something?”
Yuta gives you another are you serious look and you put your hands up. “Just wondering. It was worth a try.”
You feel awkward just standing there, and you feel like maybe you should give him some privacy even if he doesn’t care much, so you leave the bathroom to find something for him to wear.
You’re not sure if you’ll find anything that fits him, so you end up settling on a light pink bathrobe and decide he’ll have to work with that for now. You slip back into the bathroom to leave it on the sink, averting your eyes from his nude form in your bathtub. “Um, here’s something to wear...not sure if anything else will fit, this is all I have for now. Sorry.” You don’t wait for him to respond— he probably won’t anyway—before slipping back out.
It’s nearing 1 A.M. at this point, which is late considering you still have work tomorrow. You sigh and curl yourself up on the couch, hoping you won’t have to stay up for very much longer.
You’re not sure when you drifted off or how long you were out, but you wake up to the sound of footsteps and see Yuta coming out of the bathroom wearing the robe you’ve given him. You have to laugh a little at the sight of him in the light pink material, though you think it suits him in a way.
“Yeah, you’re gonna need some clothes.”
Yuta raises his eyebrow. “I still have my suit.”
“Yeah, but...don’t you want something else to wear? Your ship is pretty much gone, so you’ll probably be on Earth for a while...and if you don’t want anyone realizing you’re not from here, you’ll have to wear regular clothes.”
Yuta visibly upsets at the idea of his ship’s destroyed state, even though he knows there’s not much he can do about it. “I guess. I shared which planet I was heading to before I left, but...Earth is a very big place. And my trackers were destroyed with my ship, so…”
“I’m sorry,” you say, though you don’t know how much comfort that can be. “We can look for some clothes tomorrow. It’s probably better for you not to leave the house right now, but...that’s what online shopping is for.”
“Online shopping…?” Yuta seems puzzled by the concept, but he doesn’t ask any further. Then he looks around the room again. “Is there somewhere I can rest?”
“Oh, yeah, follow me.” You get up from the couch to head upstairs where the guest bedroom is. The house isn’t huge—it was your grandmother’s before she passed it on to you—but it’s more than enough for you alone, and it should fit one more just fine. You open the door and turn on the light, illuminating the small room. “It hasn’t been used in a while, so excuse any dust. I can fix that tomorrow, but it’s getting late...” you stifle a yawn, “...so we should probably go to sleep now.”
Yuta looks at you and nods. 
“Um, well...goodnight.” You wave at him from the doorway before closing it.
As you make your way down the stairs, a sudden weariness and apprehension comes over you. An alien in your home? Escaped from a recently crashed UFO? Wearing one of your bathrobes? You’re almost positive you haven’t thought this through deeply enough, but you’re in it now. Might as well see where the rabbit hole leads to.
The next morning, you prepare yourself to go to work like you usually do. For a while, the house is so quiet that you almost forget Yuta is there until you see him standing in the kitchen entryway, still wearing his pink robe, and you almost jump through the ceiling.
“Jesus, you came out of nowhere,” you gasp, holding your heart.
“Where are you going?” Yuta asks. He steps into the kitchen and tentatively sits down in one of the dining table chairs.
“To work,” you say, and then pause. Maybe it isn’t such a good idea to leave a freshly-landed alien at home alone. “Will you be okay here by yourself? I could come over on my lunch break…”
“What am I supposed to do here the whole time?” Yuta asks, sounding displeased at the thought of being abandoned for hours.
“Well...you could watch TV? There’s the on-demand channel...the fridge is available for you too, just try not to clean out my—wait, do you even eat human food?”
Yuta shrugs, crossing his arms. “Not really. It’s not a big source of nutrients for us.” 
You nod awkwardly. “Huh. Well, that’s...interesting.” The stress of the situation is already making your head pound and you haven’t even left for work yet. “Uh, yeah—I think I’ll just come over later and check in...come on, I’ll at least show you how to work the remote before I leave.”
You bid Yuta goodbye once you’re about to go, though you feel more than a little hesitant about leaving him there. There isn’t much other choice, though; you can’t afford to take a day off on such short notice.
The extraterrestrial sighs, sprawling across the couch and looking at the ceiling. The TV is already playing the channel you left it on, and Yuta turns to the screen and watches as a group of humans make weird food dishes he’s never seen before.
“This is stupid.”
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The rest of the week with Yuta manages to be an adventure even though he never steps foot outside the house. 
Yuta doesn’t take a liking to human food, which means he opts for spending most of his time in the guest bathtub instead, claiming that the water gives him more nourishment than meals can. You don’t know how true that is, but you’re not going to fight him on it. Less food you have to prepare, you reason...although you often end up making extra anyway and getting him to try a few bites. It feels odd to not see him eat.
Living with someone from outer space is not really as weird as you expected it might be, which surprises you. Yuta stays in his human skin whenever he’s around you, and you steer clear of the guest bathroom when it’s occupied lest you walk in on something crazy. 
You’ve taught Yuta about new concepts he didn’t know before or wasn’t overly familiar with. He’s particularly intrigued with online shopping, and you ended up buying him a bunch of outfits that you both thought he’d look nice in. He doesn’t seem to be big on technology, which surprises you considering how advanced his UFO looked even its ruined state, but maybe human tech is more primitive than what he’s used to. He’s quite fascinated with the microwave, though, and how it can heat anything up in minutes.
With you uncovering new bits of information each day, you continually wonder how different his homeworld must be from the Earth. You can’t pull much out of him about it, for whatever reasons he has for keeping the information close, but you try to let him talk about it at his pace without pressuring him.
You could probably get used to living like this. 
Maybe not your wallet, though. You’re definitely not loving how your water bill is going to look once it comes in the mail.
None of your coworkers or neighbors know—not that it’s any of their business anyway. You don’t know how long Yuta is going to stay, or what the hell you’re going to do when his people finally catch wind of his whereabouts and land a UFO in your backyard, but you figure you’ll get to that part when it comes.
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On one Saturday morning, you wake up to the sound of tapping on your door. You try to ignore it, thinking it’s just some woodpecker setting up shop outside your window, but you’re proven wrong when the door swings open.
You pull the covers away from your face for a moment to see Yuta standing there looking at you. You stare at him for a few seconds before sighing.
“Why are you up so early? It’s the weekend,” you groan, pulling the covers back over your head. 
“Why do you sleep so late?” Yuta retorts, still standing in your doorway. You don’t know whether he expects you to get up and do a trick, but it’s not happening. You peel the blanket away so it’s just below your eyes and look at him.
“What?”
“It’s not fun being here alone all day, you know,” he says, crossing his arms.
“So...what? Do you want me to play with you or something?” You can’t stop your sudden laugh, but you feel bad about once it’s out. He has just lost his ride home and has no foreseeable way back until someone notices his absence. Plus, needing to stay hidden and cooped up like a criminal can’t be enjoyable.
Yuta rolls his eyes at your response and starts down the hallway again, but you jump out of the bed and follow him. “Wait, Yuta, I’m sorry. That was stupid. I know it can’t be easy living like this. I’m not sure if I can make it better, but I’m willing to try.”
Yuta pauses in the hall and turns back to look at you. “I’m tired of being in here all the time....no offense. But there’s only so much I can take. I know I’m supposed to be in hiding, but it’s not like anyone can tell the difference. Even you couldn’t. Can’t we go out for one day?”
You think about it for a moment and figure he’s right. You both were trying to be overly cautious at first, but there’s no real way anyone would notice anything unless he shifted. “I guess we could...as long as we don’t go anywhere with a lot of water.”
“I have more self-control than that,” Yuta scoffs, though his words trail off as he’s already heading back to his room to get dressed.
You and Yuta walk around downtown for a little while, although you can’t shake the lingering nervousness you feel. You both decided not to head back to the city center any time soon; there’s not much left of the broken ship anyway, with scientists carting off pieces of it for research. Just as you thought. It’s too big to transport all at once, but you’re sure the remaining parts will be gone within the next couple weeks.
Yuta is continually surprised by how many new and unfamiliar things he spots along the way—things he actually gets to see up close and in detail. Kinda hard to focus when you’re running and hiding for your life.
Eventually, Yuta slows down as you walk past a small and colorful restaurant. “What’s that?” he asks, pointing up at the sign. You stop to turn around and see what he’s gesturing to.
“That’s just a hamburger joint...you won’t wanna go in there,” you say, raising your eyebrows. Because you don’t eat food. Despite that, Yuta still seems curious about the restaurant and he hesitates to walk away. Realizing that you aren’t going to get anywhere, you go to stand next to him and peer inside. There are a few people already inside, sitting at scattered tables and eating their food. “Do you want to go in, or…? ‘Cause you have to eat something if we do. This is your idea.”
“I’ll eat, let’s just go,” Yuta says, grasping your hand and pulling you into the restaurant.
You wave at the person behind the counter who greets you as you walk in, while Yuta is busy scanning every inch of the place. You let him look over the menu for a little while, but with so many options available he isn’t sure what to get—especially when he’s not sure if he’ll like any of them—so you end up picking for the both of you.
When you finally get your food, you take it to one of the tables. You watch attentively as Yuta takes the first bite of his hamburger, and you try to stifle your giggles as you watch his face go from nonchalance to bewilderment to shock.
“This is actually...good.”
“Wait, this is really the first meal you’ve liked? Are you saying my cooking is bad? Damn.” You chuckle, shaking your head. 
“I’m not answering that.” Yuta laughs along with you, which is probably the first genuinely happy expression he’s shown since he’s been here.
Yuta has a very pretty smile, you realize. You’re a little taken aback by it. You haven’t seen much of it since you met him, but it’s here now and striking in its genuine quality. It makes you feel all warm and fuzzy inside...which you mainly attribute to the satisfaction of doing something nice for someone else. Of course. Who wouldn’t enjoy a nice meal they didn’t have to pay for?
Things go smoothly for a while as you both eat and pretend to make boring small talk since you can’t talk about him being an alien in public. However, you feel sweat on the back of your neck when you see your coworker Alex walk through the door with his boyfriend. This city is too small for its own good sometimes. 
You try not to call attention to yourself and Yuta, keeping your gaze on your food, but he spots you anyway and waves enthusiastically. Alex gestures for his partner to go ahead and order while he comes over to your table.
“Hey, Y/N! It’s great to see you! Too bad we missed you at the UFO wreck today, though; we went out again one last time before they take the whole thing away,” he rushes out in one breath. Yuta’s eye twitches at the mention of his ship, and you’re suddenly on edge, hoping the situation doesn’t turn sour.
“Oh, uh, wow, that’s...cool!” you choke out, pinching your straw between your fingers. Before you can think of a way to divert the subject, Alex turns to Yuta.
“Nice to meet you, I’m Alex! Who’s this? Your boyfriend?” The last few words are directed at you. Alex gives you a playful grin, and you toss him an embarrassed smile back.
“Uh, no, he’s my friend! Yuta.”
“Nice to meet you,” Yuta says, though you can recognize his tone is a bit dry.
“Pleasure’s all mine!” Alex’s boyfriend calls him from the other side of the restaurant, and he turns to respond before taking his leave. “Ah well, looks like we’ll have to cut it short, but it was so great to see you guys. Enjoy your lunch!”
You let out the breath you were subconsciously holding once he leaves.
“Boyfriend…” Yuta murmurs.
“What?”
“That would be really weird. Wouldn’t it? We’re not even the same species,” he says, lowering his voice. It’s not like you don’t agree, but you admittedly don’t appreciate the way Yuta screws his face up at the thought. You prickle with embarrassment.
You scoff, taking a sip of your drink. “Well I’m not exactly eager to date an overgrown fish, so…” You almost expect Yuta to fall into another one of his moods at your words, but he actually chuckles a bit, which surprises you.
“Then it’s mutual!” Yuta sticks his tongue out and you roll your eyes.
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The warm and fuzzy feeling, you soon find out, is not a one-time thing.
You don’t quite know what to make of that. You wouldn’t like for Yuta to go back to his initial broody state, of course, but you’re starting to believe this feeling can’t just be attributed to your charitable actions. You can’t stop thinking about the more playful side of Yuta you saw at the burger place that day, and the way he’s been gradually more open with you since then.
Yuta usually spends his nights splashing around in the guest bathtub, but one night he wanders into the living room and sees you putting your afro in plaits. He becomes weirdly fascinated with the process, watching you carefully and asking occasional questions. Amused by his interest, you answer all his questions and even offer to let him do one section. 
“It’s probably not the same, but I used to braid my friend’s hair often…” he says wistfully as he settles in behind you. “We did a lot of things together.”
Your ears perk up. “Oh? You sound like you were very close,” you say, resting your chin on your knees.
“Really close,” he affirms. His hands are gentle in your hair, as testament to his words. You close your eyes and relax into the sensation, and before you know it, that warmth is spreading through your chest again. You even allow yourself to wonder what it’d be like for him to do this all the time, tending to your hair and telling you about his homeworld, before you open your eyes again and quickly pull yourself out of that reverie. You probably shouldn’t get too used to this, you reason with yourself. “I think she’s what you’d call a mermaid...except the look is a bit...different.”
“Different?” you echo, wondering if you’ll get an explanation.
“They don’t have human arms or anything like that...it’s more like tentacles.”
“Ah,” you try to imagine that, though it’s hard. “That’s certainly unique.”
“Maybe you’d like it...my planet, I mean.”
“You think I would? Why?”
“I dunno, just a feeling…”
“If only I could breathe underwater,” you laugh. “You’d take me back, though? Hypothetically, of course. I’m not too human for you?”
“Will you ever let that one go? It’s probably the least I could do after setting up residence here. Maybe we’ll get you an alien costume, though, so you’ll fit in.”
“How nice of you to think of me in all my humanness. God, the universe is something else…”
You start when Yuta’s hands leave your hair. “I think I’m done?” he says, sitting back on his feet. You grab the mirror from the coffee table and look at the braid you let him do.
“Oh wow, it looks good.” You purse your lips to hide the grin about to break across your face. “Do you wanna do the rest?”
“If you’ll let me.”
“Go ahead then, my hands needed a break anyway.”
You sit back and let Yuta finish the rest of your hair, listening quietly as he tells you more about his friend from his homeworld. Her name is unpronounceable to you, but it sounds pretty all the same. They grew up together, he says, and have been on lots of adventures over the years, though he still keeps that same vagueness he always has when describing his life. He ends up getting you to tell him more about your life, which you do; you figure he probably doesn’t know a whole lot about you, either.
Yuta hands you the mirror when he’s done, and his head pops up next to yours in the reflection. “Good?”
“It’s great!” you say, and you really mean it.
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You discover that, strangely enough, Yuta has an affinity for sci-fi movies. Go figure. He especially seems to like the campiness of alien films; then again, everything is campy to him because of how different it is from how extraterrestrials actually live.
You are in the middle of watching The Fly when it comes to one of sex scenes, and you try not to sweat. It’s always a little awkward to watch sex scenes with other people, but doing it with an alien gives the whole thing an extra layer of weirdness.
“Human sex is so funny,” Yuta says out of nowhere. You just barely avoid choking on your drink.
“Uh, o-okay. Do I want to know what that means?”
Yuta only shrugs and leans farther back onto the couch, looking completely unbothered about what he’s just said. “It just is.”
“...I’m sure your people must procreate some kinda way?”
“Yeah, but it’s not quite this. But when I’m in this form, I can do it as humans do.”
That makes you pause, and you’re not sure what to do with that information. Actually, your mind has already decided for itself and is trying to go to a place you don’t want it to, and you’re mildly horrified by that revelation. There’s no real reason why you should be curious about it. And yet...
“Hummm...have you done it before? In this form?” You keep your eyes glued to the screen, which is now showing a shirtless Jeff Goldblum doing acrobatics—but that’s still less awkward than looking over at Yuta right now.
“There was one time.”
There is a twinge of something in your chest. Fascination? Sure. Revulsion? Maybe not that. Dare you call it anything close to jealousy? You immediately throw that one out the door, sink further into your seat, and try not to think about what your life has come to.
“Okay, since you still won’t tell me directly if you’ve been here before, at least tell me this; did it happen here on Earth? With a human?”
Yuta shakes his head. “Some other aliens have weird fetishes. I only did it because she asked and was really adamant about it.”
“Ooookay, you know what…” You get up from the couch and walk to the kitchen, laughing awkwardly all the way. You don’t have any particular reason to go in there, but you have to do something with the nervous energy that’s about to make you jump out of your skin. You pretend to shuffle around in the fridge for a minute so you don’t look too silly getting up for no reason.
After taking a moment to calm down, you turn back to Yuta. “Okay. Hypothetically, if you wanted, could you actually…? With a human? In your natural form? Or would the parts be incompatible, or...”
“Maybe...I’m not sure. It’s not like I’ve ever tried. Why?” Yuta gives you a look that’s partway between curiosity and incredulity, and you wave your hand in dismissal.
“It’s just a question.”
Yuta leans forward on the couch, barely concealing his own amusement at whatever he’s cooking up in his mind. “Are you saying you want to try it with me?”
“You’re not funny,” you sigh, trying to ignore the way your skin is burning at that suggestion. “Remind me not to ask you anything like that again.”
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When you get home from work one weeknight, you roll your eyes at the mass text sitting in your inbox, forwarded to you from Alex. Another after-work party, which means another event where someone will run through the sprinklers naked and everyone will pretend like they don’t remember it the next workday.
You don’t know how you’re going to get out of this one, especially with Yuta, who will likely want to go if he finds out, so you decide to just come out and say it and see what happens.
“Hey Yuta…” You slide up behind him where he’s sitting on the couch. “I just wanted to let you know I won’t be at home for a few hours on Saturday. I’m going to a party this weekend. It’s a friend’s party, someone from work.”
Yuta looks at you forlornly. “The same person we met at the restaurant?”
“No, but he’s gonna be there too. Look, I know what you’re thinking, but I really don’t know if it’s safe for you to go…”
“That’s not fair, the last time at the restaurant went well,” Yuta argues.
“Yes, but this guy has a pool and he’s a dickhead who likes to push people in and what if you get caught off guard and change unexpectedly?”
Yuta’s response is as straightforward as you expected it to be. “Then I’ll punch him in the face.”
You laugh at that and shake your head, coming to sit beside him on the couch. “Ugh. As satisfying as that sounds, I don’t need the extra stress of dealing with the aftermath. I don’t know, Yuta...do you think you’ll be okay? God, I feel like an overprotective mom or some shit.”
“Y/N, it’ll be fine, stop worrying. I can take care of myself,” Yuta insists, putting his hand on your shoulder and looking into your eyes. He’s a little closer than you anticipated, which makes your heart rate increase a little. You chalk that reaction up to his invasion of your personal space and shift away, groaning.
“Fine, I’ll bring you. But if shit goes down, I can’t promise an easy way out. Let’s just keep things lowkey, alright?”
“Of course I can do that! I’ve been doing it so far haven’t I?” he says, but somehow you’re not entirely convinced.
The party is filled with people you know from work and a slew of unfamiliar faces, probably your coworkers’ friends. It’s mostly a backyard party, like you already knew, although there are some people mingling within the house.
There are already a few people lounging in the pool. In any other scenario, it might be inviting to you, but now you just look at all that water with a looming sense of anxiety. Yuta sticks close to your side, saying nothing but studying everyone around him.
“Y/N!” your coworker David shouts from the backdoor of his house. He holds up his beer in salutation and you wave back at him, mildly annoyed that he’s brought everyone’s attention to you both. He hustles over to you and claps you on the back strong enough to make your bones rattle, and you wince. “Hey dude!” He reaches across you to pull Yuta into a handshake, and Yuta also winces when he grips his hand a little too tight. “Make yourselves at home, I’ve got everything you could ever need—including the booze and babes!” You both nod awkwardly before David goes off to greet someone else who’s just pulled up. You roll your eyes once he’s gone.
Yuta’s eyebrows draw together. “That was…”
“Annoying,” you finish for him.
“You don’t seem to like him. Why did you decide to come?”
“Workplace politics, if you’re the only one who doesn’t come it’s awkward, ugh. It’s just bullshit. Let’s not get into it.” You walk towards the house and Yuta follows, and you nod at a few people you know along the way.
You find Alex in the kitchen, where he offers to make drinks for you and Yuta. You cast a glance at Yuta, wondering if he’ll take up the offer; you have no idea how he’ll react to alcohol, or if they drink any equivalent of it on his homeworld.
“Um, I think I’ll pass.”
“Oh okay, straight-edge guy! That’s cool too,” Alex grins, making just the one drink for you. As you and Alex talk, the girl from your department whose neighborhood was about to be evacuated sidles up to your little group.
“I’ve never seen you before. What’s your name?”
“Oh...it’s Yuta.”
“Yuta? How cool, I’m Sooyoung.”
Little did you know that that one introduction would expand into them having a half-hour long conversation right there in the kitchen. You really don’t know how Yuta is pulling this off without spilling the beans, but then again, you do; he’s good enough at manipulating the conversation to make it seem like he’s sharing personal info when he’s really not. Plus, it doesn’t hurt that he throws in things you taught him every so often.
Alex notices your changing demeanor and follows you as you walk into the living room, finally exhausted with playing third wheel. “Hm, someone seems a little spicy.”
You cough. “I’m fine, it’s just cramped in there, David should really invest in a bigger house..this place could use a remodel.” You throw a glance around the living room, not wanting to see the mischievous look in Alex’s eyes.
“Well, remodel aside, it’s not really my business, but you certainly seem to have a little green monster brewing here.”
You give Alex a long look. “Don’t. He’s my friend. He’s not even—” You have to stop yourself before you expose anything, and you shift nervously on your feet.
“Not even what? Your type? I don’t know, he’s handsome enough to me. You can’t go wrong with a pretty boy. Don’t tell Xavier I said that, though.”
“Lord, let me get the hell out of here…” You leave Alex to cackle to himself while you go out into the backyard again, holding your drink and mulling around the edges of the activity. Too busy wrestling with your own emotions, you don’t realize how close you’ve drifted towards the pool.
“Hey, Y/N?” David says from behind you.
“Yeah?” You go to turn towards him, but before you can, you feel a huge shove from behind and the next thing you know your feet are off the ground and you’re in the pool. It all happens so fast that you can barely catch your bearings, and for a terrifying moment you’re convinced you’re about to drown.
The seconds feel like minutes, and you can’t even open your eyes to tell up from down. The next thing you register is an arm around your waist, and somehow you’re being pulled up even though you’re too panicked to even control your limbs. Your head pops above the water and you cough and sputter loudly, trying to take in air. You try to blink the water out of your eyes, though it drips off your hair and makes it even harder to see.
You’re still not sure what the hell is going on until you’re hauled out of the water and sitting on the ground. Someone hands you a towel, and you hear a female voice saying you’re such an asshole, David.
You wipe the water off of your face and then you’re finally able to see; Yuta is crouching in front of you, just as soaked as you are and staring at you with a worried expression. You look back at him, disoriented and a little dumbfounded at his still-human state.
“You didn’t…”
Even though you’re still trembling with the fear of almost drowning, you’re unable to look anywhere but at Yuta for that moment—at the pure concern on his face.
“Nice going, David,” someone else says sarcastically.
“It was just a bit of a prank! No hard feelings guys, come on. Y/N?” You realize David is standing on your left, and he tries to come closer, his hands open in an apologetic gesture. You jerk away from him, holding the towel to your shaking form.
“Get the fuck away from me. You’re a fucking idiot!” you shout. “All you do is ‘play pranks’ and then you wonder why no one likes you!” That draws a few barely concealed laughs out of the people standing nearby, though you don’t think any of it is funny. David steps back, unsure how to respond and looking truly embarrassed for once in his life.
Filled with anger, you try to get to your feet but you’re still unsteady. Yuta puts his arm around you again, lifting you up and encouraging you to lean your weight on him.
“It’s okay, I’ve got you.”
You don’t have much to say on the way back home. You insist on leaving right away even though Yuta suggests you sit and wait until the tremors subside. He obviously can’t drive you back home, so it’s all he can offer, though it doesn’t make you feel much better.
The silence itself isn’t particularly awkward to Yuta, but he is uncomfortable anyway because he knows it stems from your own discomfort. At a red light, he turns to you.
“Are you okay?”
“Not really.”
He’s quiet for a few moments, and then he speaks again. “I know you’re mad about the pool, but...it seems like there’s more than that. Did...you not like me spending so much time with Sooyoung?”
You scoff. “You can’t be serious. I don’t care what you and that girl do.”
“You’re not a very good liar.” You’re too worn out to argue, so you merely give him a sidelong glance. Yuta sits back in his seat and watches a few cars zip past, their tail lights looking like clashing stars against the night. He’s not used to so much...manmade stuff. There was his ship and his trackers, of course, but he still has a hard time adjusting to be surrounded by so much iron and steel. His own planet is ruled by nature, by the vast oceans in all their unpolluted original essence, but Earth—or at least this portion of it—is much, much different.
He means to glance back at you, but his eyes linger for a while longer than intended. He’s not sure why. Maybe it’s because your outfit is a pretty color, or because the coils of your hair look shiny reflecting the light. He’s never put much thought into human beings before, and his limited experiences with them were mostly better left unremembered. Taking a human form was no huge deal for him; just a move that was necessary at the time.
But now, he’s seeing humanity—and most specifically, you—in a different light, and he’s uncertain what to do with this realization. People have feelings, thoughts, and dreams, like his own species, or like any other. He’s beginning to care what you think of him, how you react to him, even though he doesn’t know why this matters.
“You look pretty,” Yuta says. The compliment is the last thing you expected from him. It seems especially random after what happened at the party; here you are, soaking wet and incredibly uncomfortable. You’re a little late to put your foot on the gas pedal once the light turns green, and someone behind you honks.
“Pretty? I thought humans were weird to you.” Your mind goes back to The Fly and the subsequent conversation you had, and your hands tighten minutely around the steering wheel.
“You are. That hasn’t changed.”
“Good to know.” You don’t want to laugh, but this does make you crack a smile. “But...thanks. And...thanks for that, at the pool, you know. I should...probably trust you more.”
The rest of the ride is a little more talkative after that, and Yuta is happy that he could lighten your mood if even a little bit. Although he wouldn’t tell you, he’s becoming accustomed to your smile, and he’s more displeased than he thought he could be when it’s absent.
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The thunder booms so loudly that it makes your window frames shake. It almost reminds you of the day Yuta’s ship fell out of the sky. You pull the covers tighter around yourself as if they alone could protect you from the storm’s fierceness. Storm clouds have been brewing all day, but the skies didn’t open until you and Yuta went to bed. Now, the rain and lightning is in full force. The rain pounds against your window, sounding more like hail or even bullets.
You’re startled for a second time when there’s a knock on your bedroom door.
“Come in?”
The door opens slightly and Yuta appears in the small sliver of space. “Sorry, but...can I sleep here? The storm...” He gestures to the window, where a crack of lightning strikes right after. He’s wearing a sleep shirt and loose pants, and his blonde hair is disheveled. 
“Uh, sure.” You shuffle over to make room for him. “I guess this isn’t your type of water, is it?” He huddles underneath the covers with you, facing you with his arm tucked under the unoccupied pillow.
“Not when it’s so intense like this.”
You hum in acknowledgment. “It’s scary. Does rainy weather make you think of your homeworld often?”
“Often,” he repeats. “But...I think I’d be worse off if I weren’t here.”
“Here...on Earth?”
“I mean, here with you.”
“Oh,” is all you can think to say. It’s a surprisingly personal confession, though you are grateful you’ve become someone so important in his life already, even if it’s only because you’ve given him shelter. That familiar warmth spreads through you again. 
Warm and fuzzies = gratefulness to a friend, the feeling you get when you pet a cute puppy. Right. It’s not the sensation you get when you think you might have feelings for your extraterrestrial friend, you try to convince yourself. “I’m...glad you’re here. Maybe not under these circumstances, but still.”
Yuta nods without speaking, but he doesn’t take his eyes away from you. You think he must be waiting on you to say something else.
“What?” you ask quietly when he keeps staring at you. “Take a picture, it will last longer.” Your joke does little to clear the air, and the tension keeps rising. You should probably be the first one to look away, to end whatever weird game this is and go to sleep, but you can’t. It’s unexplainable.
Yuta props himself up on his elbow, and you’re about to ask him where he’s going when he slips his hand onto your bare shoulder. You’re already covered by the blankets, but you suddenly feel even hotter with his hand on you, sliding up from your shoulder to the side of your face. “Y-Yuta…?”
You don’t know what to say or do, but you don’t object when he leans closer. Your faces are only inches apart now, like he’s hesitating and wondering if he should cross the line. The thunderstorm is intense, but this moment feels much more suspenseful than that could ever be. And then, it’s suddenly satisfying when his lips are on yours.
The kiss starts gentle. He’s careful as if he’s afraid to hurt you or make you feel uncomfortable. It’s soft and sweet. Things get more heated when his tongue prods against your lower lip and enters your mouth. You don’t know when his hand made it from your face to your side, but he pulls you close with his fingers pressing into the flesh just below your breasts, and you tremble at the proximity.
When you pull away, both of you are breathing harder and unable to look each other in the eye.
“Should we be doing this?” you whisper.
Yuta shakes his head. “I don’t know. But it feels good.”
At those words, you pause for a moment before moving to kiss him again. His lips respond deftly to yours, his body crowding you in and making you feel hot and enraptured with desire from where you still lie under the covers.
His hair is very soft when you slide your hands through it, though you can’t push away the thought that suddenly manifests in the back of your mind. This isn’t really his hair, or his lips, is it? It’s all a mask to cover whatever is underneath, which is something you still don’t entirely know, yet are increasingly curious about.
Yuta’s hand drifts up just high enough to caress the underside of your breast—all still over the cover of your clothes. Abruptly, that thought forces its way to the front of your mind, making itself unavoidable, and you have no idea how to reconcile it. This is all so...very unfamiliar. And undeniably scary.
You pull away from him, your face creased with conflict, and his hand stills on your body. “S-sorry, I…um...this is...”
Subsequently, he pulls his hand away from you, though some part of you doesn’t really want that to happen. “I-it’s fine.”
You both settle back into the sheets, the tense aura from before replaced with one that’s thick with unease. The storm continues on outside, unknowing and uncaring of anything else but its own nature.
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Though you would like to pretend it isn’t so, things become strained after the night of the storm.
You and Yuta don’t talk about the kiss. You expected him to say something about it that morning after, but he didn’t acknowledge it, and so you figured you just forget about it, too. What are you thinking, anyway? You’re literally from two different worlds. You don’t have the first clue about what a connection would look like between you, whether it be just sex or a relationship.
Why couldn’t you just fall for a coworker and have a bit of office drama like everyone else? Even that would be simpler.
Why did you have to let your thoughts get the best of you? You don’t have any answer for that, except for maybe your own need to come to terms with your attraction. People have never been very skilled at accepting others different from themselves, you know that much. But that usually counts for people of different ethnicities or cultural backgrounds, not two entirely different species.
You spend the whole week afterwards tearing your mind up with this monologue and trying to figure out what you should do next, because you’re quickly growing weary of coming home to a tense atmosphere. Alex can only give so much advice—not that you’d really tell him the entire situation—without knowing just how complicated everything is.
Where he used to hang out with you and help you with your hair, Yuta spends more time up in the guest bathroom again. You wonder if he thinks you’re disgusted by him. You’d probably think the same if he reacted the way you did.
Unbeknownst to you, Yuta is facing the situation with a similar amount of inner turmoil as you, wondering if he’s gone too far. He’s done many silly things in his life, but he doesn’t know how to undo this mistake. The mistake of kissing you? The mistake of seeing you as more than just another human? The mistake of knowingly flying in a faulty ship? Maybe all of it.
He feels guilty about freezing you out and pretending as if nothing happened, especially with all you’ve done to make him safe and comfortable in your home. But, at the same time, he is equally frightened to face you and discover the real reasoning for why you pulled away that night. Because you’ll never see him as someone you could like? Or maybe even love?
If that’s your truth, he’d rather leave it unsaid.
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There aren’t many choices left but to face it. Whether this idea is smart or not is yet to be seen, but you suppose you don’t have many solutions left. And you are sick of being cooped up in the house.
“You sure this is safe?” Yuta asks as he stares at the scenery whizzing past. “You were all freaked out about me being near water before...now you want to go to a lake?”
You glance over at him. “Yes, it’s my parents’ lake property. It’s private, Yuta. No one will be there but us. I think we could both use a mini vacation this weekend, yeah?” 
“I guess, sure.” Yuta shrugs. His demeanor is more closed off than it was before that dreaded kiss, but you can still tell that he’s interested in the idea of getting access to a bigger body of water, even if he doesn’t outwardly express it.
The lake house is two hours out of your city. It hasn’t been used much in the past few years with both you and your parents being busy with work and life, but if there was ever a good time to use it, it’s probably now. You just hope there aren’t any squatters of the furry variety; the last thing you need is to be fighting raccoons or squirrels after stepping through the door.
Luckily, there’s really no one but you two once you reach your destination. The lake is big and pretty like you last remembered it, sparkling under the sun and throwing the rays back in your eyes. Yuta is automatically captivated by it.
“Here it is!” you say, walking along the sand and spreading your arms out towards the body of water. “It might not be much compared to your homeworld, but I hope it’s enough.” You carry your bag up the stairs to the house and turn back to Yuta, who’s still standing by the shore gazing across the water. “You can go in, you know? Get comfortable!”
That seems to snap him out of his trance, and he turns back to you, following you up the steps. “Not right now...I’ll go later.” You’re a little disappointed at that, but you simply nod and open the door to go in.
You spend the day getting increasingly more restless as you and Yuta hang out together. You go on the pier, walk around the entirety of the lake, and even take your dad’s boat out on the water, but he still doesn’t get in.
You eat dinner together later that night, although you’re the one doing most of the eating, and there isn’t much conversation to be had. You’ve both run out of things to say that don’t center around the kiss or why he refuses to get in the water.
Yuta spends a few more moments watching you push your food around your plate before leaning forward. “Why did you bring me here?” he asks.
You sigh heavily. “Do you not like it?”
“No, I do, but…” he hesitates. “Can you answer my question first?
You raise your eyebrows. “Okay, well. I brought you here because...I don’t know. I figure you deserve to have somewhere bigger to swim around in than my guest bathtub.” You laugh nervously.
He seems unconvinced. “Is that it?”
“I’d say so! Why won’t you even take one swim, is the better question? I want you to relax and be yourself.”
He furrows his eyebrows as if he doesn’t know how to reply. “You...aren’t you...repulsed by it? I just figured you wouldn’t want to see me in my natural form. Especially since…” He trails off at the end, and your palms sweat a little.
“No! I know I was weirded out at first, but...I-I guess that was the point of this whole trip, to show you that…” You grapple with your words for a moment, unsure if now is the time to fully confess what you’re feeling. “Look, I want to try, alright? I want to see it at least once. I want to accept you as a whole being, and that means, you know...all of you.”
Yuta smiles gradually at that, and you feel swept up with a sudden wave of affection you weren’t expecting. You are still a bit scared, but you don’t want to turn back now. “Are you sure?”
“I’m sure,” you reply, clasping your shaking hands together.
Yuta nods and stands up from the dining table, gesturing for you to follow him. It’s late now, with the moon shining brightly and the last vestiges of dark blue sky giving way to black. The air outside is cool, but not uncomfortably so. You follow Yuta to the pier and watch timidly, your stomach flip-flopping, as he sheds his clothes, leaving them on the wooden deck. Then he slips into the water, disappearing underneath its still surface.
You crouch down, looking intently at the rippling water and anticipating whoever is going to resurface. The sounds of croaking frogs and crickets press in from every side, ringing in your ears so loudly that it’s hard to think straight.
You gasp when Yuta lifts from the water, his human skin gone and completely transformed into something that’s more...amphibian, if that’s any accurate way to describe his appearance. His skin is still scaly and green like you saw that first day, but in the moonlight it seems to glitter and reflect a spectrum of colors like his armor did. There are two fins on the either side of his face, translucent and shining a pale green. They slowly move back and forth as he treads on the water, as if they’re conveying an emotion to match whatever he’s thinking, and you watch them in fascination.
Yuta floats on his back in the water, the long gills on either of his sides catching the moonlight. You watch in fascination as they move with his breaths. Using the pier post to keep yourself stable, you reach out to touch them. They’re slick under your fingers, but not in a slimy or gross way. Your hand drifts to the rest of his skin, across his torso and along his sides, and every portion has a strikingly smooth texture. His alien eyes stare at you silently as you do, glittering big in the moonlight.
“What do you think?” his voice is quieter than you expected, as if he’s afraid of your reaction. He doesn’t break his gaze, though, studying your face carefully.
“You’re...amazing,” you say breathlessly. “Incredible.” 
His lips, which are green like the rest of him, form a small smile, and then he dives underneath the water. He does a few laps as if he means to impress you, his lithe marine form sparkling just below the surface of the water. You keep your hand suspended over the pier as you watch him, your fingers sliding against his body every time he passes by. You smile at his display, a laugh coming out of you at his impromptu performance.
When he’s finished, Yuta climbs up onto the pier with you and kneels in front of you, much like he did that day he saved you from David’s swimming pool. His feet are webbed like his hands. Droplets of water slide off of them onto the wooden boardwalk while others linger on the clear webbing like tiny jewels. Your hand is magnetized to his face, drawing across the scaly skin and tracing over his lips, which are just as smooth as the rest of him.
Before you can think twice about it, you lean forward and capture his lips with yours. Did you expect it to be fishy? Maybe. But it’s not that at all. He still manages to taste distinctly like Yuta, even though you’re not sure what that taste is. It’s a flavor that makes you feel...held. Yuta is surprised for a moment, but he responds to your kiss, one of his webbed hands inching close to your face. He doesn’t touch you at first, a little reluctant and yet wanting to let you lead the pace so he doesn’t scare you off.
You welcome his touch, carefully brushing your fingertips across his hand and bringing it to make contact with your skin. His own skin is still a bit cold from the water’s temperature, but it doesn’t bother you much.
The kiss soon grows more intense, and a mounting desire makes itself known in you. You won’t pretend like you’re 100% confident about all of this, but you don’t want to shun it anymore, either.
Yuta’s hand drifts to your neck, his long nails pressing into your skin ever so slightly. You dare to explore his body more, sliding your hands across his chest and over his side gills, feeling the way they contract under your hands, and farther down still. You haven’t looked down there yet, and you’re nervous over what you’ll find. But you keep going until your fingers meet something slick and hot and throbbing, seeming vaguely like a regular penis, though you quickly realize it’s more of a tentacle.
Yuta shudders and draws away from the kiss, and you feel alarmed, wondering if you’ve gone too far without thinking.
“If we’re going to do this, I should...probably shift back—”
“Don’t,” you blurt out. Yuta looks at you questioningly. “I...you should if it makes you comfortable. But...I don’t mind.” He’s quiet for a few seconds—seconds that feel much longer than they really are. You’re apprehensive of what he’ll say, but you keep your eyes on his face.
“Okay,” he agrees. “If you’ll accept me like this...okay.” 
Neither of you bother with moving to somewhere more comfortable like the lake house or even the sandy shore. Instead, Yuta peels your clothes away right there on the pier, covering every new bit of flesh with his strange and lovely mouth, his head fins ghosting across your collarbones and breasts like moths’ wings.
You tremble and grow wetter under his soft caresses, which are much gentler than you’d initially expect with his sharp black nails. His hands leave streaks of water across your body, which cools your burning hot skin.
Yuta carefully maneuvers your lower body at the same time as he bends his graceful head, bringing your sex close to his mouth and licking deeply into you. Your back presses hard against the pier, the wood scratching your skin as you cry out into the night air.
“Oh God, Yuta!” You soon realize that his tongue is much longer than any human one, and it reaches to a spot deep inside of you that makes you twist around in his grasp, your fingernails scrambling for purchase on the surface below you. He uses his tongue to pleasure that spot continuously, drawing moans and ever more wetness out of you as if he were controlling the waves in the ocean.
You find yourself coming apart on his extraordinarily long tongue, your legs shaking and then going limp with the pleasure flooding through your body. Your breaths come fast and hard. Yuta lifts his head from between your legs and pulls you carefully into his lap so his slick tentacle is pressing against you. It’s not hard like a dick would be, though it is clearly responsive to your body, and you momentarily wonder if it can even go inside you.
“Is this gonna work?” you ask, a tremor in your voice.
“It will work,” Yuta replies, and you’re not sure how, but you decide to trust him on it. 
It does, to your surprise. With your legs crossed tightly over his lower back, Yuta presses into you, wet and warm and very unexpectedly soft. It doesn’t feel like anything you’ve ever experienced before. It’s not a bad sensation, though—far from it. His tentacle is similar to his tongue in how it flexes and throbs inside you, pressing tight against that spot again and making you shiver in his arms.
You both quickly find a rhythm that works, your bodies moving together in an otherworldly combination of two beings, two species, two souls.
Yuta’s long nails scrape gently against your skin as he holds your back, guiding you on his sex and pushing his hips up into you. You sigh into the juncture of his neck and shoulder, feeling the cool scales underneath your lips. You seek a firm grip on his slick skin, bringing your body as close to his as possible.
“Yuta…” You moan his name. His hand slides to the back of your neck so he can bring your face to his again, kissing you deeply. There’s a wet squelching sound as your bodies connect, Yuta’s tentacle slipping in and out of you and pleasurably stroking your walls.
“Y/N…” Yuta whispers into your soft hair, pushing into your spot repeatedly, his thighs tensing under you as his pace increases. You grip his arms as you feel your orgasm swelling up in your abdomen. You tip your head back and Yuta’s mouth goes to your neck and farther down, his heavy breaths warming your skin and making you overheat from the inside out.
You tighten and cum around him, your voice stuttering out of you in broken gasps as he keeps thrusting into you, drawing your climax out. He pulses inside of you, which sends little shockwaves up your spine; you know he’s probably close, too.
When Yuta comes, there’s a lot more of it than you expected. His cum overflows and drips out of you with a consistency like syrup and a transparent color like precum. It makes the inside of your thighs sticky and shiny.
Yuta pulls out, and more of his cum spills out of you, leaking onto his lap and staining the pier underneath you.
“That’s not gonna get me pregnant, is it?” you say quietly, half-jokingly.
“Probably not,” Yuta chuckles.
“Probably!?”
Yuta carefully gathers you in his arms and stands to his feet, walking you off the pier and back towards the lake house. Your clothes are still on the pier, but you’re quickly getting sleepy and aren’t very worried about it; you’ll get them in the morning.
“What happens now?” Yuta murmurs as he walks up the front steps. You already know he’s referring not just to your relationship in this present moment, but to every event that will make up your future. Does he need to continue hiding, or is it really safe? How long will this last?
You close your eyes, resting your head against his chest. “We stay together.”
Yuta’s arms tighten around you as a silent affirmation of your words.
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hqprotectionsquad · 5 years ago
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Spin the Bottle (Iwaizumi x Reader)
hello! this is my submission for the HQWN’s summer fic exchange! this fic is for sabrina, @iwaqchan ! sabrina, i hope you enjoy this! i tried to combine spin the bottle and 7 minutes in heaven to make it ~extra~ cliché!
summary: Was it painfully obvious that Iwaizumi has a crush on you, or is it just common knowledge amongst the third years on Seijoh’s boys’ volleyball team? Either way, you’re going into a closet with him and he’ll see if he’ll act on his feelings. tw: cursing, alcohol word count: 2130
“Holy, now this is a party! Oikawa, did you organize this? I bet you did,” Hanamaki smirks when he enters the basement of Oikawa’s house, as if the location wasn’t already indication enough of the owner. The parents are away, the juice has been acquired, and everyone’s here. Seeing everyone so casual stirs something in Iwaizumi’s heart and a small grin curls on his lips as he sips from his cup. It won’t be long until this get-together gets rowdy, so he’ll be enjoying the somewhat tranquil nature while he has it.
Iwaizumi leans against the wall and his first instinct when he sees you is to stick his tongue out at you in between drinking. “Hey.” You go in for a hug because you’ve been friends long enough, but Iwaizumi doesn’t see you that way. He lingers in your touch before pulling away. “Good to see you, thought you were going to ditch?”
“Like I’d miss Oikawa drunk off his ass for a night. Believe me, I’d switch around any plans for this party.” You laugh. “I mean, we just graduated, of course I want to party with my friends.”
Iwaizumi twirls the air with his finger. “You’d consider us all friends?”
“Dumby.” You punctuate your sentence by shoving his shoulder. “Yes, of course I consider us all friends. I wouldn’t have gotten through high school if it weren’t for this friend group. This really large friend group, now that I’m thinking about it.”
“You can blame Oikawa for that.” For as long as Oikawa has lived and breathed, he has never not gathered people together. It’s one of his redeeming qualities, not that Iwaizumi could count that many. Oikawa’s found his place in many groups and he’s never upset when he’s cut out because he can always return to the volleyball team. He always has a home there, and so does Iwaizumi. Oikawa is a cool guy at times.
“He’s a funny person, that’s for sure.” You laugh to yourself. “Are we starting something? Oikawa seems to be running all over the place trying to rearrange things.” 
“I try to not look at him.” Iwaizumi chugs the rest of his drink. “Hey, do you need another drink? Or a drink in general?” He asks after noticing your hands are empty.
“I’ll just come with you.” You both grab your drinks with light banter flowing between the two of you, and Iwaizumi can’t get this small smile off of his face. You’re just so funny, and so wonderful. Being drunk with you is wonderful. 
There’s something about your flushed cheeks and your hair in a messy style that makes Iwaizumi think of things that he should not be thinking of his friend, but he just wants a pass for once. He wants to allow his mind to run wild while he can. When he’s in university, across the ocean, he won’t have anyone like you to keep him company. He’s sure he’ll find friends, maybe even friends who speak his native tongue, but at the end of the day, Hajime fears it will be a lonely experience when he’s away across the sea.
“Hey, hey, we’re starting spin the bottle now!” Oikawa announces in his drunken stupor. Iwaizumi can tell this stupid man can barely keep his own after he arranged the couches so that the center could stay empty for bodies to inhabit it. For once, Hajime wants all of them to have a carefree night. He doesn’t want to worry about his overbearing parents, volleyball training, or homework assignments. Hajime just wants to be here.
The two of you rejoin the group, crossing your legs when you connect the circle. Hajime purposefully sits across from you because it seems unlikely that the bottle will spin towards him if he’s sitting right next to you. His narrow gaze is on you for most of the game, only leaving when Oikawa ends up kissing Makki without complaints.
“Oikawa!” Makki brushes his lips with the back of his hand, but there’s a grin on his face nonetheless. “We should make this more interesting, not that Oikawa kissing me wasn’t interesting enough.” He taps his chin as if ideas will come about by this physical action. “I think...we should spin the bottle, but instead of kissing, seven minutes in heaven?”
The rest of the cohort yells in approval.
It’s your turn to spin the bottle, and for some reason, Iwaizumi’s heart pounds against his ribcage and it’s incredibly distracting. For the most part, the other third year boys tease him about his crush on you, though he’s only really told Oikawa about it. Even just telling Oikawa is enough to spread it far and wide, so he’s surprised that you don’t know about it. Nonetheless, Iwaizumi looks around the circle. Would it be justified if he said he was jealous of how everyone’s waiting to see how the bottle will land?
Would this situation be different if Iwaizumi sucked it up and told you how he felt before today, before everyone got so drunk that their only choice is to sit down? His lips curl into a pout. At least Iwaizumi’s thought process hasn’t been taken over by the alcohol; his ability to overthink is still golden.
The girls form circles with their mouth as they glue their eyes to the movement of the glass bottle and the boys all try to look in different directions, so that if they aren’t chosen, there’s no hard feelings.
Iwaizumi’s knee bounces and all he’s staring at is his lap and his fingers that tightly clasp around his own bottle of beer.
Again, the yelling starts and Iwaizumi snaps up to look at everyone’s faces, then looks down at the bottle.
Him.
It landed on him.
The neck of the bottle is facing straight towards him. There’s no dispute about that.
“You guys know what to do!” Oikawa’s words pulls Iwaizumi’s head from the clouds. His best friend nods his head toward a closet. “That should be big enough for you guys.”
Mattsun, who sits beside you, gently taps you over and over again before you roll your eyes and get to your feet and reach out toward Iwaizumi.
“I’m not going to wait all day, Iwa,” you tease and pull him up as best as you can, but he’s definitely a big guy. Iwaizumi doesn’t mind that when he’s also on his feet, you’re still holding his hand. Your hand is small in his grip and he loves the fact that your fingers are on display in this position at least. He can see all the folds of skin on your knuckles and your neat fingernails too.
The other boys cup their hands around their mouth and howl in support. Iwaizumi turns his head and he’s really glad you also aren’t looking back because he glares at the third year boys. By now, everyone at this party must know why his heart is on his sleeve.
“I’m putting the timer on now,” Makki’s voice is heard behind the two of you as you enter the closet. Could this even be classified as closet? Besides the racks of clothing, it’s a spacious room.
Iwaizumi settles down on the floor, knowing he won’t be able to take anything if he continues to stand and you follow suit.
“So,” you smile as you break the ice. “Did you actually want to do something, or, um, should we make sounds to pretend like we are? Because I don’t really know how you feel about that.” You play with your hands when you say this and you can’t look up to his face.
“Why are you so serious, (Y/N)?”
“Because,” it’s hard for you to continue. “You’re one of my greatest friends.”
“So are you saying you don’t want to kiss me?” This comes out a little rougher than Iwaizumi expected, but he opts not to say anything more.
“No, I’m not saying that, I’m just saying—”
“Then let’s kiss. It’s not a big deal, you know. We’re not going to see each other for a long time after this summer, so we might as well make the most of it.”
 “You’re being for real?” You mutter and he doesn’t even take a beat before pressing his lips onto yours. Always been precise and never afraid to dive in deep. You respond as any sane person would and kiss him back. Hands are quickly added into the mix and you didn’t quite expect his tongue to come in too, but are you complaining? Not when you’re the one moaning into his mouth.
“You’re so hot,” Iwaizumi breathes out his words when you disconnect and there’s even a bit of his saliva that you wipe off your mouth. “(Y/N), where’d you learn how to kiss like that? I should’ve told you that I liked you a long time ago if we’d be kissing like that all the time.”
“Hajime, you like me?” This has to be the product of having one-too-many drinks. Iwaizumi can definitely keep his own weight, but the more he drinks, his mind goes wild. “Like you’re not kidding?”
“I know I’m drunk or whatever. I like you so much.” For once, Iwaizumi has allowed himself to be off his game, but even now, he’s conscious of his decisions. Maybe two more shots would have prompted him to act and throw away his inhibitions. His hand still is squeezing your waist, pressing his fingers into your flesh. His head is reeling and the way your lip is between your teeth, biting down so lightly, is only contributing to his intoxicated cloud. 
“I like you too.”
“Will you go out with me?” Now, it’s his turn to bite his lip and he’s really trying to be sober right now because he wants to remember every single moment of this conversation. Tomorrow, he might remember bits and pieces, but he wants to replay this whole movie when he wakes up with his hangover. He wants to remember how you’re one of the best kissers he knows and he’s glad he knows that firsthand. He wants to remember how you told him your feelings in four words and how your lip biting is driving him absolutely crazy.
You don’t know what to respond and you’re sure Oikawa will swing the door open, looking to each of you for evidence that you actually accomplished something behind this closed door.
“Fuck, I know that we’re seniors and we only have this summer, but I’ve liked you since first year. I have, I swear to God, and I’ve never liked anyone the way I’ve liked you because you’re just so perfect.” He doesn’t even know if his words are making sense at this point but Hajime hopes that the more he speaks, he’ll be convinced that this is the only way he could have truly confessed to you. “I hope you’re not going to reject me, but if you do, can you just still be my friend, because I swear I’ve heard people get awkward when someone tells them how they feel—”
His words are cut off but nothing other than a hard kiss. He doesn’t know if you wanted him to just shut up or maybe you feel the way he does. Maybe you feel the same butterflies he does, the same ones that are flapping their wings against the walls of his stomach.
When you release with a popping sound, you press a hand against your lips, feeling the swelling across the expanse of your skin. “I like you. I don’t think I would’ve kissed you like that if I didn’t.”
Before Hajime could get a word in, the rest of the partygoers peer into the closet, their eyes glowing and questioning. “Alright, time to get out!” Oikawa announces, holding out a hand for you to get up. Well, Hajime’s not going to lose to his best friend this time and he also holds out a hand, expecting yours to match it, and you do. You get up together and out of the door, making your way back to the circle.
Oikawa stops Iwaizumi in his tracks and you’re still holding onto him as he’s stuck in place. “So, Iwa-chan, I’m guessing everything went well?” He cups Iwaizumi’s ear to whisper words that everyone else is left guessing on. Iwaizumi doesn’t even have to look at Oikawa to know that he’s smirking.
Iwaizumi looks down at his hand, considers his balled fist, and sails it right into Oikawa’s bicep. Nothing hard, but Oikawa makes it out to be as if he’ll die from the punch. “Shut up, Shittykawa.” 
Still, when you lead Iwaizumi back to the human ellipse, there’s an undeniable smile on his face that rivals the twinkling stars.
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scribomaniac · 4 years ago
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Something Wicca This Way Comes: Ch 13
I KILLIAN I
Pacing up and down the length of the hallway that led from the front door to the kitchen, Killian wondered how much longer Mary Margaret and Emma planned on staying in the basement. It’d already been hours since the older witch had gone down to comfort her daughter. Killian had considered venturing down himself, but in the end decided it wasn’t a good idea. He had no idea what would come out of his mouth if he tried speaking to Emma right now.
Liam, who was trying very hard to look casual, sitting in the middle of the couch with a textbook in his lap, asked, “What’re we gonna do if she says no,” he looked between Killian and Liam, who was looking out the window with a scowl. “To her destiny, I mean.”
“That’s not an option,” Liam said, leaving no room for argument. “It’s her destiny.”
“So what?” Will’s browed furrowed, “Are you saying all the talk about free will is bull then?”
“No,” Liam closed his eyes, making Killian wonder if he was trying not to roll them. “Of course there’s still free will but if Emma doesn’t do this, if she denies her birthright, then—”
“Then what?” Killian stopped his pacing to ask. “Really, what then? So the Source doesn’t die—there’s still us. There are still other witches protecting Innocents.”
Turning to look at his younger brother, Liam said, “It’s not as simple as that. Tink’s said how powerful the Source has become—how unequal the balance between good and evil is. The longer Emma takes to accept her destiny, the more lives will be lost.”
“And what about her life?” Killian’s past premonitions came to mind. One of Emma being stolen as a baby, her sleeping mother right beside her, and the other of her as a small child being tormented in the Underworld. “Doesn’t she get a chance to live it, too?”
Liam waved him away, “Putting her own life above others is just selfish. And why are you defending her?” He narrowed his eyes at Killian, “Or have you forgotten she tried to kill you?”
Swallowing dryly, Killian glared, “Of course I haven’t forgotten, but she’s not just the Firestarter anymore, is she? That makes things a bit more complicated.” A lot more complicated, if Killian were being honest, and in a lot of different ways.
“It wouldn’t be if Emma would just do what she was born to do!”
A light cough interrupted them, making Killian’s head snap over to find Mary Margaret standing in the entrance to the kitchen.
“I wanted to say thank you, before we left,” she told them. There was a smile on her face, but her eyes were as hard as iron and they were trained on the oldest Jones brother, as if daring him to try and stop them. “I’ll be taking my daughter home now.”
Wincing, Liam stepped forward and tried to salvage the situation, “Mary Margaret, I’m sorry, but you know what’s at stake here. You can’t just—”
“Oh, I can,” Mary Margaret nodded quickly. “I lost my daughter just hours after giving birth to her, Liam. I’ve been through more hell in that first few minutes of finding her missing than you have in your entire life so don’t you dare try to lecture me about what’s at stake.” Cutting herself off, Mary Margaret looked down and smoothed out her shirt. “I know this isn’t the outcome you wanted, but it’s not your choice and you need to respect that.” Taking a deep breath, she looked up and said, “Thank you again. For bringing my daughter back to me.”
It was silent for a moment too long where the Jones brothers looked at each other awkwardly, unsure of how to respond to Mary Margaret’s gratitude.
Will was the first to remember his manners, and said, “You’re welcome.” It came out a bit stilted, but Mary Margaret nodded all the same.
“We’ll leave once David gets back.”
The muscle in Liam’s jaw pulsed against his skin. It was obvious that he wanted to continue arguing with her, but thankfully he held his tongue. Mary Margaret was right, it wasn’t his choice, but Killian knew his brother better than anyone. He liked to be in control, to take charge and make decisions. Having no say in this must have been eating him alive.
“If you ever need anything,” Killian found himself saying, “we’re here for you.”
Again, Mary Margaret nodded. Killian wished he could say more, bother to her and to Emma. He couldn’t help feel like they were making a mistake. Not because it was Emma’s destiny or anything like that, but because running away never solved anything. Killian had learned that himself firsthand after leaving the Navy. He wished he could speak to Emma alone, to learn what she was thinking. Her whole life had just been turned upside down. Killian, having gone through several life altering situations himself, felt the compulsion to comfort her. It was only the knowledge that she wouldn’t want him to—wouldn’t want anything to do with him—that kept him from doing so. He understood that what they had was a lie, but he found himself wishing he could stay in her life, just for a little bit longer. As a friend or even just as a fellow witch. But that would never happen.
Emma appeared from the kitchen then, and Killian had to turn away.
“Where will you go?” Will asked.
Before either woman had a chance to respond, three distinct blinks sounded throughout the room.
“Warlocks!” Liam immediately shouted, diving for Will and taking cover behind the couch as several energy balls flew past.
Grabbing Mary Margaret and Emma by their arms, Killian yanked them down to hide behind the dining table. It would have provided at least a few minutes of protection from the Warlocks, until one pulled out a fireball and set it ablaze.
“Bloody hell,” Killian hissed. “Who’d they steal that power from?”
Liam popped up from behind the couch and blasted the Warlock closet to Killian into oblivion.
“Come on,” Killian grabbed for Emma again. She my be the Savior, but without proper training of her new powers she was practically a sitting duck. They ran for the kitchen, Mary Margaret using her powers to close doors and throw furniture at the new Warlock behind them.
Emma stared at her hands, clenching and unclenching her fingers. “Come on, dammit! Light up!”
“Focus, Emma,” Mary Margaret told her, her gaze on the blocked entry way. “Think about what you did last time, okay?”
“It’s not working,” she grounded out.”
Another blink, and then there was a Warlock right in front of her. Moving faster than he ever had before, Killian tackled Emma to the ground. He could hear the crackle of wood behind him, the heat from the newly burning fire.
Turning over, Killian watched as the Warlock threw an energy ball at Mary Margaret, causing her to jump out of the way. Summoning another sizzling ball of electricity in his hand, the Warlock grinned, showing his decaying yellow teeth, “The Source sends his regards, Firestarter.”
Bright white lights formed behind the Warlock, and before the creature could finish them off, Will appeared and shouted, “Athame!”
The ceremonial blade appeared in his hand in a ball of light, and Killian’s younger brother wasted no time by throwing it directly into the back of the Warlock’s head.
The effects were immediate, the Warlock’s body exploding like a star in supernova.
Standing up, Killian side and patted his brother on the back, “Good timing.”
“Sorry I wasn’t faster—the last Warlock gave us some trouble in the other room.” He looked at Emma, who was still on the floor, to Mary Margaret who’d moved to put out the fire on the wall. “You all okay?”
“Aye,” Killian nodded. “Swan?” He moved to help her up, but she brushed him off, standing on her own.
“What I don’t get,” Liam hollered from the other room, grunting as he pushed debris out of the way. Finally making enough room to open the door, he continued, “is how they got those powers. Tink said Warlocks stealing a demon’s powers was like treason.”
Emma scoffed, “Not if the Source is the one who gives them to you.”
“What?” Will asked with a frown. “Why would he do that? Oh shit,” he blinked, looking at his brothers, then back at Emma, “do you think he know you’re the Savior? But how?”
“He doesn’t know I’m the Savior—if he did he’d have come to kill me himself.” Pushing her hair back, she raised a brow at them all. “Do you really not know who we vanquished earlier? Baelfire?”
Killian exchanged glances with his brothers. They looked just as confused as he felt. “Never heard of him, Swan.”
“Yeah, well, he was the Source’s son. And since I was the one who killed him, he’ll have placed a bounty on my head.” Shoulders slumping, she turned towards her mother, “Sure you still want me around?”
“Oh, Emma,” Mary Margaret whispered before walking to her daughter’s side. She didn’t hug her—though Killian had no doubt in his mind that she wanted to—but she did place a hand on Emma’s arm. “I’m with you. No matter what, okay?”
Lips quirking up into a small smile, one that dipped off just as suddenly as it came, Emma nodded, “Okay.”
“This is another reason you shouldn’t leave,” Liam said, hands on his hips. “We can train you, help you fight back.”
Closing his eyes, Killian held back a groan. Liam had a point, but now was really not the time.
Barring her teeth, Emma growled, “Stay out of it.”
“Kinda hard to do that when shit like this happens in my house.”
Nostrils flaring, Emma looked at the four people standing before her. It was like watching a deer in the headlights. Shaking off her mother’s arm, Emma pushed her way out of the room and towards the front door. “I need some air.”
Killian followed her out onto the porch, “Swan, wait.”
“What?” She turned on him, her brows furrowed, “Are you going to try and convince me to stay? That demons will just keep coming and coming until we’re all dead? Because I know that.” Bringing her hands up to massage her temples, Emma closed her eyes and frowned. “I was the Source’s bodyguard, for Pete’s sake. I know what he’s capable of, and now with Bae gone—” she shook her head, “The only way to survive is to run.”
Killian nodded slowly, “You might survive that way, aye, but Emma,” he took a small, cautious step towards her, “you deserve more than that. You deserve to live.”
Cocking a brow, Emma asked dryly, “There’s a difference?”
Killian thought back to when he and Liam were boys, how they’d had to fend for themselves and only relying on each other. They’d fought for every scrap of food they were given and always looked over their shoulders for a possible attack. Even when they’d enlisted into the Navy, when they were assured of brotherhood and security, Killian had never let his guard down, sleeping with one eye open. He’d been right to do so, in the end, but that didn’t mean it was a healthy or sustainable way to live.
Answering with conviction, Killian said, “Yes.”
Emma’s bros rose, but Killian could still see the suspicion lingering behind her eyes. Curling his lips into a coy smile, he tried to elaborate, “Living means joy, Swan. Pleasure. It’s like enjoying a kiss after an incredible date.”
Eyes flickering down to her lips, Killian couldn’t help but remember the last kiss they had shared. Looking back up into Emma’s eyes, he wondered if she ever thought of that moment as well. He thought of the words, to ask her outright, but they wouldn’t manifest on his tongue. Flirting? Easy, no problem for young Killian Jones. But honesty? That was a bit harder at the moment.
“Just imagine,” he said instead, his mouth turning dry, “all that time we’d spent together, with no ulterior motives. Just you and me, Swan, living our lives.” He was entering dangerous territory now, pushing for the truth in the only way he knew how.
Emma’s eyes feel just a fraction, and Killian’s heartbeat quickened as he realized they were focused on his mouth.
“Please,” she whispered, finally returning her gaze to his. Just as cautiously as he had moments ago, she took a step closer, “You couldn’t handle it.”
Killian tried his best to control his breathing, which had turned shallow and too loud in his ears. He was truly playing with fire now, and he didn’t much care of getting burned. “Maybe you’re the one that couldn’t handle it.”
And then Emma kissed him.
Hands immediately falling to her waist, Killian pulled Emma closer. Her mouth was rough and hard on his, but then she exhaled, and Killian could feel her tension bleeding away. She pulled back, just slightly, and Killian chased after. Her fingers brushed alongside his jaw and into his hair, sending electric shocks from the base of his spine down to the tips of his toes. Emma’s tongue snaked out, licking at his lower lip so sweetly. Killian choked on a moan, easily opening his mouth to giver her more access.
And then Emma was pulling off, breaking the kiss just as abruptly as she had started it. Eyes still closed, she took a shaky breath and told him, “That was a one time thing.”
And the next thing Killian knew he was alone on the porch.
 I EMMA I
Emma had no idea why she’d done that. It was stupid and rash and not like her at all. And yet, as she walked through the house, she couldn’t help but relish in the tingling feeling in her lips. A part of her wished she could spend all day kissing that man. She wanted to, she wanted to get to know him too. Really know him. And not to gain information for someone else, not because she’d been ordered to, but because she wanted to. Living and surviving, is that what he’d meant?
But all her wishing would amount to nothing if Killian didn’t feel the same way about her. How could he, after everything she’d done? He’d kissed her, yes, but that meant nothing. Emma knew better than anyone that lust and love were not the same.
Pacing in the solarium, Emma tried to get her head on straight. She couldn’t focus on the kiss right now. Or how her lips still tingle or how her heart fluttered when she thought of how Killian had held her only moments ago. No, she needed to make a decision. She had two options; run for the rest of her life or stay and fight.
Running was the smart move, and if it were only her in danger she wouldn’t be giving it a second thought. But she had Mary Margaret now, and David. Hell, she even had a brother to think about. She had a family. It was new and scary, but it was hers. Mary Margaret said they’d run, and Emma didn’t doubt her, but was that really fair? Emma sighed, wondering if running would only delay the inevitable. The Source was immortal, he’d never stop hunting her down. He’d wait until she was old and gray and then make her wish she’d never been born.
And what a horrible life that would be, she thought. She’d spent her whole life in the Underworld, believing her parents had sold her to demons, thinking she was unloved and would always be unloved. She’d fought because she’d been made to, relied on fear and hate to be her forever companions, but now, now she had something to fight for. A mother, a father, a brother. Killian. The Source had taken so much from her, was she really going to let him take this—all this—away from her?
Hell no.
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tonystarktogo · 6 years ago
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Since we are doing this. Let's go all in. An au where the avengers are each a stone. Tony: Reality Natasha: Soul Steve: Time Bruce: Power Bucky: Mind or Death (death stone is native to battlerealm it's Canon and thanks used it to collect the others unaposed) Sam: Mind or Death Thor: Space What say you? Should the stones be switched around for others you think might match better with?
I absolutely love your designations and the concept of the Death stone but just take a moment to consider: 
(This got very, very long. If you prefer, you can read it on AO3.)
The Infinity Stones are not simply stones. They are energy. They are intent. They are will. They are origin. They are beyond our understanding and beyond our perception. They can take many shapes and forms, but before everything else they are a concept. An idea.
And yet despite all that, they can be found.
They were made to be found.
Time
Thor is at his heart a simple man. 
Not in the sense that he is stupid – Thor has never found the same passion for history and books and knowledge that burns so brightly in Loki, may never possess the same razor-sharp wit that his brother wields with the same deadliness as his daggers, but Thor is smart and intuitive and far more calculating than anyone, safe his mother and Loki and perhaps his father give him credit for – but in the sense that he is generally happy to live his life one day at a time.
Perhaps he has to thank Asgardian’s long lifespan for this. For the calm with which he regards the history he has no desire to discover, for he has lived it himself thousands of years ago, and once was more than enough. For the lack of hurry when facing an uncertain future, knowing you will in all likelihood be around long enough to see it come to pass.
[goes on after the cut]
Knowing, even after thousands of years, the universe can still surprise you – and that it is those surprises that make life bearable. Make life interesting.
Even after having spent much time on Midgard in recent years, there are still many things about mortals that Thor doesn’t understand. Their obsession with time travel – with traveling into the past, jumping head-first into the future – is one of them.
Jane had tried to explain it to him. The fascination of exploring lost civilizations, of getting a chance to undo your own mistakes and make better choices, the concept of knowing what is to come and how it may affect the present… Thor had liked listening to her, to the genuine enthusiasm and boundless curiosity, see her eyes sparkle with fascination. But he hadn’t really understood.
From what Thor has seen, it doesn’t matter if you have two hours or fifteen thousand years of time at your hands – at the end of the day, time is intangible and unstoppable and even with an endless supply, you’ll always feel it racing through your fingers, running out too quickly to accomplish all your goals.
That – the endless, boring court meetings, the uneventful evenings filled with laughter and mead and jokes that never change, the sudden, startling realization that after having traveled the universe for centuries you are suddenly running out of time – that is life.
Time is linear and cyclic, is constant and ever-changing, is always and never enough and Thor has little interest in hypothetical scenarios, in jumping back and forth between is and was and will be. He has no need for any more than the time he’s been given.
And if he dreams of better times – his mother’s warm embrace, the safest place in the entire universe, his brother’s jokes, back when they were still amusing instead of hurtful – long passed or never been sometimes, with the clarity of a freshly-born memory, that is just what dreams offer us. A dual edge of peace and misses opportunities.
There are no theories and time twists and paradoxes because Thor has no need for them. At his heart, he’s a simple man with simple wishes. Some of which he works for, some of which are already beyond his reach.
And time – like life, like Thor – goes on.
Space
Long before Bruce grows up, he learns to be small. To make himself fit into places people don’t give a second glance, squeeze into tiny spaces that shouldn’t fit until he makes it work.
He puts things into his pockets and finds them days later. Small, odd things, like missing keys and chewing gum and coins. They’re never full, his pockets, but Bruce doesn’t think pockets are supposed to be full. And anyways, he has bigger things to worry about.
Like that time he opened his closet and found endless legions of monsters with scary, glowing eyes staring back at him. Like that time he pulled a window open and could feel the air getting sucked out of the room, a black nothingness before him that sucked everything in. Like that time Bruce stumbled through the door, aching and desperately, and he doesn’t know how he made it to the hospital. Somehow he was just there.
Things don’t necessarily change, but Bruce grows up.
He stops believing in monsters in his closet and under his bed. Stops believing he can reach the milky way through his window. Stops squeezing himself into too small places that people keep telling him he doesn’t fit in.
(Sometimes Bruce carries books in his backpack that he’s been searching for months. He’s a forgetful person, apparently.)
In retrospect, things were always gonna go wrong in that damn lab.
But even with all his degrees and theoretical knowledge, Bruce couldn’t have foreseen the Hulk. And even after living with him for years, he is no closer to understanding it. The phenomenon. The way the Hulk works. The rules, all the god damn rules of physics he breaks every god damn time.
As Bruce shifts back and forth with the Hulk, sometimes on purpose, often accidentally, perhaps one of the strangest sensations will always be the way he grows. The way he twists his mass, changes his body and twists the space around him to make it work.
(There’s a crazed, genocidal demigod somewhere in Bruce’s future that looks at him in horrified terror – and for a brief moment, Bruce wonders what this monster sees when it looks at him to fear him so.
And it is many years after that, when Bruce doesn’t just change but consumes the space around him, leaves nothing behind, that he asks himself for the first time whether Loki feared him enough.)
Mind
Steve sees the world with a certain clarity, long before the serum fixes his color-blindness and gets his body up to speed with what his head has already figured out a long time ago. He looks over the busy streets of New York and thinks pattern, follows grumbled debates in smokey diners with terrible coffee and learns politics, watches two old men play chess on a corner twice a week and understands strategy. 
The thing is, Steve knows he’s smart. And nobody’s ever called him stupid – but that doesn’t matter when he doesn’t have the physical strength to back his ideas up.
When war comes, deciding to sign up is the easiest thing Steve has ever done. Getting in, well. That’s what brings him to a government-sanctioned human experiment – and Steve is smart enough to know that ‘government-sanctioned’ isn’t much of an assurance in dark times like these.
(Doctor Erskine takes a shine to him. Steve isn’t sure why, if it’s the potential the man sees in him, for what his serum might be able to do or something else. But they end up chatting a few times during the days before the experiment starts and surprisingly Steve finds he has quite a few things to say about the composition of the serum.
And if Doctor Erskine makes a few last-minute changes that never make it into his notes – what with him getting killed in the direct aftermath of the successful implementation – well.
Nobody thinks to ask Steve whether he understands the chemical details. And after witnessing firsthand how far HYDRA’s arm reaches, Steve wouldn’t have told them anyways.)
War is uglier and crueler than anything Steve had imagined. But there is light to be found – in the people around him, the men following him, the friends he makes among those just as terrified and determined as he is.
“You bring out the best in me,” Peggy tells him once, as they outline their new plan of attack, a challenging smirk on her red-painted lips that dares him to do even better.
A few weeks later, Howard refers to Steve as his muse and inspiration – a comment that the Howling Commandos tease him endlessly for.
It’s Bucky – of course it’s Bucky – who finds him after dinner that day, crushing a rare cigarette between his fingers as he stares blindly ahead. “You do, you know?” he says, and nothing else.
Doesn’t mention the shots he’s taken in the last fight – the ones Steve could’ve sworn were impossible, except that impossible is a word that’s lost much of its initial meaning these days.
“That’s a good thing, isn’t it?” Steve asks. Try as he might, he can’t make his voice as light as he wants to.
If he’d turn his head, he knows he’d see the same question on Bucky’s face, the same doubt. What do we really know about this serum? What do we really know about what it does? Isn’t it just too good to be true?
But Steve doesn’t turn. Because they’re in the middle of a war they can’t lose and need all the help they can get. They’ll deal with everything else later.
(Bucky falls and Steve follows and later turns out to be much, much later than either of them could have hoped to imagine.)
Power
Natasha never shares more than the barebones of the skeleton that is her time in the hands of the Red Room with anyone. Entire years are summed up in simple words and descriptions that will never accurately express the horror underneath. Small girls with unsmiling faces and sharp elbows, tied to their beds with handcuffs and fear, turned into cold, merciless killers.
Black Widows, Natasha says, calm, clinical, detached.
That is all SHIELD needs to know about a program too easily replicated.
Natasha never talks about the moves they taught her, again and again, an endless routine until she can do them in her sleep. Never talks about how she was always the last one to fall asleep. How she moved faster and faster until she noticed the other girls couldn’t keep up. How sometimes, in the rare, quiet moments she has, Natasha closes her eyes and swear she can hear electricity humming in her veins.
But the Red Room has taught her all about hidden trump cards (all about the limits of humanity and how far some are willing to push beyond them) and Natasha has no wish to test SHIELD’s respect for ethnic guidelines.
She waits for that one mission where she’ll be too fast, too strong, will mess up. Because Black Widows are made of marble, but they aren’t perfect – false confidence gets you killed faster than any other mistake.
It doesn’t come.
(It takes Natasha years to realize that her first slip has nothing to do with her ability to drop-kick the Hulk into a crate.) 
The truth is, Natasha doesn’t mess up. She’s a child raised as a killer, a girl trained for murder and hunting. At SHIELD, she’s almost at home. Not quite comfortable, but as close as she ever gets. Functional. And that’s the operative word isn’t it?
(The first thing Phil Coulson notices about Natasha Romanoff is her calm aura. There is nothing manic or desperate about her, not even when they have her surrounded, sniper rifles aimed at her forehead, the ultimate nowhere left to go painted on the wall for all to see.
The second thing is the lack of nightmares. The third is her odd, emotional connection with Clint Barton.
Coulson knows more about the Black Widow program than most people. But what truly disturbs him is not Natasha’s eerily efficient kills, it’s the way she’s handled her unconventional upbringing. It’s the lack of trauma and psychological problems. It’s her settled state of mind, her steadiness. There’s a layer of steel underneath her bright red hair and calculating eyes that even a lifetime with the Red Room hasn’t touched. An unbreakable core that doesn’t yield, not to anything.
Handle with caution, Coulson notes in his first assessment. Do not push.
Natasha comes close only two times in her life. The first time is after Budapest, after Clint lost most of his hearing and is looking at her for anything, anything at all to believe in, and Natasha can’t carry that responsibility, doesn’t want anyone to ever look at her like that again and she almost–
The second time, the Winter Soldier re-enters her life like a forgotten childhood horror remembering its form. Her eyes fly over paper after paper, observe data, anything and everything she can get her hands on before she dumps it all – almost all – on the Internet.
(She never tells anyone about the words they yelled at her until she was deaf to their original meaning. Never tells anyone about the endless repetitions, the carefully calculated conditioning. About watching it sink like poison into the minds of those around her. About getting better and better at pretending, so they would finally leave her alone.
Natasha never tells anyone but when she’s twenty-six and an old handler uses those words on her, she guts him without pause and never looks back.)
Soul
Clint doesn’t put a name on it for the longest time. It’s just instincts, really, honed by years of pulling one after the other over unsuspecting people as a carnie, followed by a surprisingly successful, if not particularly long-lived career as a mercenary. He says ‘no’ to more jobs than he takes. Sometimes because the pay isn’t right or the risk isn’t worth it. But mostly because Clint can read people.
To this day, it’s still the best way of putting it that he can think of.
There’s just something there, in the back of his mind that tells Clint when a customer is about to double-cross him. Like an itch in his mind that he can’t quite scratch.
He looks at people sometimes, on the streets, just passing by, and he picks out the ones he wouldn’t mind hitting with an arrow or two.
It’s that same itch that makes Clint listen Phil Coulson when the man first approaches him. And he doesn’t need to read the contracts or listen to the empty promises SHIELD makes him. All Clint needs is to take a long, hard look at Director Fury before he makes it choice.
(All Clint needs is to take one long, hard look at any target SHIELD points him at before he makes his choice. Clint’s tendency to disobey orders is only overshadowed by his success rate.
It’s what helps him convince Coulson to give Natasha a shot. It’s what helps him knowing she wants that shot.)
Clint reads people. Better than Natasha, maybe. Not that there’s any way to reliably measure such a skill. But it’s just damn good instincts. That’s all there is to it.
(Only years later, after his future, his family has crumbled to dust, after a fight that’s cost him everything, does Clint put his gift to use. He looks and looks and looks, closer than he’s ever dared to before.
And it’s there, surrounded by dead bodies and blood and rain, the hysterical laughter of a dying man ringing in his ears, that Clint smiles the only smile his lips still remember.
It’s easy to become judge, jury and executioner when you see everyone for who they really are. When they can’t hide their sins, can’t evade your gaze, their deepest secrets bared for you to see.)
Reality
Tony talks a lot about his plans for a first robot. It’s the topic of his master thesis, so it’s not like he has much of a choice and his supervisor is awesome. But all too soon everyone and their grandma’s cat seem to have an opinion on the feasibility of his project. Tony’s getting tired of having people tell him what he can and can’t do.
He doesn’t need daily reminders of the limits of their current technology. He doesn’t need the mocking quips and eye-rolls of people who don’t have the guts to say ‘just another Stark with his head in the clouds’ to his face.
DUM-E turns out not even half of what Tony hoped he would be – but still more than anyone else expected.
(He’s Tony’s pride and joy, but that’s another topic altogether.)
Tony doesn’t say a word about JARVIS. Not until it’s over and done with. At first because it’s just a spur-of-the-moment idea. Then because he and Obadiah have different ideas about Stark Industries, and are arguing enough as it is.
There’s no one around to tell Tony that AIs aren’t actually possible outside of science fiction. No one around to tell him that a computer program can’t replicate emotions, can’t actually understand sarcasm.
JARVIS surpasses any program the world has seen – not that the world knows as much. Tony is careful to keep his true capacities on the down low.
There’s no need to share this feat with the world. Tony knows what he’s created, and that’s more than enough.
(Tony builds himself an arc reactor in a cave, dried blood and sand on his lips. It’s months later, when he finally runs the numbers. Figures out that the materials he’s used shouldn’t have worked, shouldn’t have been stable, should have overloaded the human organism instead of integrating seamlessly.
He stops the calculations then. Clearly, there’s some variable he’s missing because the math is wrong.
And so what if he has the self-built equivalent of a star in his chest? So what if mankind isn’t supposed to build stars just because they need one?)
*
“Make a wish, Mister Stark!” Peter Parker will insist years later with a brilliant smile as he pushes a self-made, oddly shaped cake in front of Tony.
And.
Tony looks up. Meets the eyes of these familiar strangers, his team, his family, the people he’s been drawn to from the moment they met. The first people he’d instantly clicked with, like something finally slid into place and settled down, and all the ones they’d collected since then. Since they first started out as a rag-tag group of six desperately cobbling a last-minute plan together to save the world.
Closes his eyes. Blows out the candles.
Makes a wish.
Thoughts @thoughtfulbreadpolice?
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rannadylin · 6 years ago
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Get to know me better meme II
Thank you @storyknitter for the tag!
Rules: Answer 21 questions and then tag 21 people who you want to get to know better.
Tagging: I would really like you all to do this and tag me if you do, for I am curious, and also I am tired after an after-school meeting that ran late, and not sure I can come up with actual lists of names tonight. 😉 So please, claim a tag and join in!
nickname: Magistra (Latin for “teacher”) is the one most frequently used since that’s what my students call me. (Sometimes, even my French classes do…)
zodiac: Virgo
height: 5’2”
last movie I saw: Uh…honestly not sure at this point…Probably one of many Christmas and/or Hallmark movies the family had on over break? By “watched” in that instance I of course mean “read my kindle and/or knitted in the room where everyone was gathered more or less watching those things”
last thing googled: Red Lobster Cheddar Bay biscuits recipe :-D because @grumpy-jedi made me think of them
favorite musician: Hmmm I like instrumental things so...Lindsey Stirling and The Piano Guys come to mind. Also a longtime fan of Michael Card, Out of the Grey, Steven Curtis Chapman, and more recently, Matthew West. (The music on Christian radio or what we used to play in pep band is all I really know, guys. And hymns. We still play those in church, it’s great!)
song stuck in my head: Really nothing at present. OH how about the one from Latin class today though? :-D To Or For (Is the Case That’s Dative) was definitely stuck in my head earlier.
other blogs: Occasionally I post to my knitting bucket list on @lanaemagistra and of course I run the prompt archive at @pillarspromptsweekly – that’s about all I actively use these days
do I get asks: Occasionally!
following: 882, wow, last I checked it was 700-something I think…I may have dozed off and followed a hundred blogs in one fell swoop or something…many of those must be inactive because it doesn’t seem to be too many to get through my dash at present 
amount of sleep: I usually manage around 7-8 hours on school nights, for I am old and go to bed between 8 and 9. (And I am a teacher and get up at 5 am.)
lucky number: I dunno, 3?
what i’m wearing: comfy after-school clothes, a cute cabled cardigan that I wish I had knit but it’s store-bought and some day I need to knit more like it, lovely socks that I did knit, and also these
dream job: Teaching that didn’t involve the paperwork/grading/hoops we have to jump through that have gotten more and more constricting since I started in this profession. Or, writing and/or editing. Or, library stuff!
dream trip: This French teacher really needs to visit France someday, after chaperoning four student trips to Italy – I mean, the Latin teaching is my main thing, but I feel bad that I don’t have much firsthand cultural knowledge for my French classes. (Also then I’d be close enough that I couldn’t not make a side trip to visit all my European friends!)
favorite food: Ironically today was “Fave food or restaurant” day for dress-up spirit days at school. I wore a Princess Bride themed t-shirt that has a slogan on it for Miracle Max’s Chocolate Coating. :-D Whether chocolate is my favorite food or just the closest to one that I had in wearable form is debatable. But…chocolate! (Also I’m really loving those banana almond flour muffins I made last night. I may need one for a bedtime snack now.) (I…should make them with chocolate chips next time!) (And walnuts! I almost put walnuts in this batch…)
play any instruments: Yup I am a flutist! Also can do a bit on piano though I’m very out of practice.
languages: Native language: English; second language/minored in: French; one year in high school of: German; master’s degree in: Latin
random fact: (oh, my dear @storyknitter, your amount of tea is not at all ridiculous… *shoves all those Adagio samples and tins and pouches accumulated over years of tea sampling and blending in a closet*) Uh, I learned to weave last summer at JCL convention! I learned to build a loom to weave on too! I still need to go get materials to do that at home while I still remember some amount of it.
describe yourself as aesthetic things: curls, handknits, tea, orlans (seriously I think the cat-hobbits are my aesthetic now, I surrender), colored pens, insulin pens, hundreds of used glucometer strips lost in random corners of every place I have ever been, ancient maps, dresses with pockets
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mittensmorgul · 7 years ago
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How can anyone NOT see/believe in Destiel when we've got people like you writing smart, concise analysis on its existence? Our ship has the best meta writers! Like, people who are smart and level-headed are all, "Look, here's the thing, " and people are like "WHAT THING YOU'RE DELUSIONAL GRR". And I keep remembering the LeakyMug interview with JKR after book 5 and the "anvil sized hints" RE: Ron/Hermione and the backlash over "delusional" in that case, and this kinda got away from me, sorry!
Oh gosh, that’s nice of you. I’m gonna start by saying that it doesn’t have anything to do with being smart, and people who see the show differently than I do are not... something other than smart, you know? I engage in discussions with folks every day who see different things in the show than I do, and I think they’re extremely smart, despite seeing things differently. But their arguments are based on the entirety of canon, and not the same three scenes taken out of context, several misattributed quotes, and that one “but Jensen SAID...” 
That’s just... not how any of this works, you know?
(I’ll also start by saying I know nothing of this JKR interview you mentioned, and that I was never in the HP fandom more than having read the books and seen the films, so I have no firsthand knowledge of what that drama was about... and I don’t care, and will kindly ask that people refrain from sending me helpful anons on the subject. Suffice it to say, I really dislike the slinging around of the word “delusional” in debates of this sort, so I can appreciate the similarity of the situation.)
For some reason, I never get angry or condescending anons about any of the other meta points I write about. I get polite queries, requests for further explanation, and general flailing. People reblog my other posts with additional supporting evidence, and sometimes even with an alternate viewpoint or read on a scene or episode or season or character. This is actually not only flattering, that anyone else is as interested in discussing things like the nature of angels, the cosmic structure, character dynamics, and headcanons on everything from how the Winchesters support themselves, where they store their seemingly vast wardrobes, the timeline of the narrative, etc., it’s just... fun to discuss these things with people who enjoy debating canon this way so we can all come to a greater understanding of the entire show.
But the moment destiel or the interpretation of Dean as a long-closeted bisexual becomes the focus, the straw men come screaming out of the woodwork and the conversation just devolves into ad hominem attacks. And if that’s the opening gambit from the side that insists destiel isn’t “real,” or that Dean is straight, it doesn’t really give them any sort of solid foundation from which to debate this in good faith. 
I have a grand total of zero problems with people who honestly and truly believe that Dean is straight. They are 100% entitled to this interpretation. I, personally, believe there is far too much canonical evidence to the contrary to ever read Dean as straight, but I will NEVER go to a straight!Dean stan’s blog and tell them they’re idiots, you know? I have no problem with people who don’t “see” destiel in canon, either. If they don’t like it or don’t want to acknowledge it, that’s their prerogative, you know? I’m not here to dictate the One True Correct Way to watch a damn television show about monster hunters. Y’all do you.
My only problem comes from people using this as an excuse to send hateful messages to anyone-- be it cast, crew, writers, or other fans. It’s just sickening.
The fact that these attacks seem to increase dramatically whenever there’s something particularly “destiel-y” on the show kinda makes the point that these people clearly DO “see” it, and they’re just bitterly and irrevocably mad about it. It makes it even more difficult to give any credence to their particular read of Dean and his relationship with Cas, you know? Willful denial doesn’t make for a viable starting point for a good faith debate.
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yohib · 3 years ago
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A Guide to Hydroponic Growing
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Environments Hydroponic cultivating has many advantages over traditional methods and is useful for the earth. Hydroponic growing uses less soil. Topsoil erosion doesn't become possibly the most important factor since hydroponic planting systems utilize no topsoil. The use of water is a fraction of what is needed in conventional gardening because the water is reused along with the nutrient solutions. This reusing and re-circulation of the water and nutrients mean less water and healthier plants. Fewer pesticides are necessary for hydroponic crops - or they're not required at all since your gardens can be grown indoors in controlled environments. This is great for people living in parts of the country with extreme weather conditions. Because hydroponics can be used indoors you can adjust the temperature as you normally would for yourselves. It would be impractical at best, to maintain optimal growing conditions outdoors but it becomes easy when using hydroponics. Progress has been rapid, and results obtained in various countries have proved it to be practical and to have several advantages over conventional growing methods.
Building on a good thing Taking the science to the further action and growing on the success of your basic system include the use of manufactured sunlight in a closed environment- growing your plants in enclosed tents under hydroponic lights. With artificial lighting, your plants grow faster and bigger. With the tent, you can move your self-encased system to a different area with the least exertion. With the utilization of lights, the development cycle can be unsurprising and lengthened. The nutrients you feed your plant can be balance and altered for different purposes. For example, if you want to enhance your system with CO2, your plants will grow even faster. Finally, I have firsthand knowledge of a closed-loop commercial hydroponic system in practice and thriving in Milwaukee, WI. This group grows its produce and lettuce in warehouses under controlled lighting with the aid of manure from farm-raised fish in the system which fertilizes the greens. They grow this bounty and sell to local restaurants eliminating the need for trucking in produce and saving fuel, energy, and pesticides while their client eats fresh, local pesticide-free local fare with a fraction of the energy normally used.
Hydroponics, What A Way to Grow An ever-increasing number of individuals nowadays are understanding that the above explanation is valid. Hydroponics is the best, cleaner and increasingly controlled approach to grow. From your prize flowers' blooms to the sparkling fresh taste of the salad you just picked to the satisfying taste of your fresh vegetables picked and eaten the same day. I say you can do it better with hydroponics. In the method of soil gardening, the plant's roots dig and search into the soil for their needed nutrients whereas in hydroponic growing the exact nutrients designed to each plant's requirements are supplied and controlled in an automatically timed feeding. It follows that as the plant doesn't have to work as hard for their nutrients the results are more energy being supplied to produce lush blooms for flowers and healthier more abundant vegetable crops.
Why not soil gardening So often these days soil has become depleted from overuse and contaminated with harmful chemicals. In other words, it is not dependable for healthy produce. With hydroponic growing, there are no worries about lack of nutrition in your hydroponic grown vegetables and fruit and no worries about you or your family consuming pesticide or other chemical residues while you are eating the food. The main thing that gets into your hydroponic grown food is the thing that you put into it.
How to start your hydroponic garden A small easy to use the complete hydroponic system for home use is easy to get on-line and quite affordable, too. Easy and fun to set up, the systems come complete with all that you need to get started together with all the howto instructions and guidelines for success. There are even videos on YouTube that educate one on nutrient supply and explain the set-up of the systems. Quality producers here in the United States are remaining by prepared to help in any capacity they can with specialized help or parts substitutions if necessary. An indoor hydroponic garden can easily become a child's or family project. How about a science project?
What kind should you get? That depends solely on how much and what you want to grow. There is a wide delightful variety of hydroponic indoor garden systems to choose from. The systems come in different sizes from the small 6 planters such as "Emily's Garden System" all the way to the "Aeroflo2 - 60" which is expandable from 60 to 120 plant sites. Some of the "Aeroflot" series are long and narrow and fit easily along with a window for the natural sunlight. Then there is the "Ebb Monster" which is used for growing berries or fruit trees or larger vegetable varieties. There are some systems that double for plant cloning and/or plant cultivation. So, you see, whatever you want to grow whether it be carrots, tomatoes, kale, flowers, citrus, berries, peppers, the hydroponics people have you covered. Whatever your desires or goals there are systems to go along with it.
Now you have it! Where will you place it? Some people think closet growing works best for them. It is relatively easy to control lighting and temperature in a small closet area. No drafts, etc. Some, like me, prefer their garden out in the open to watch and enjoy maybe as a focal point as you would place or use a pretty house plant. On the top of an end table or corner table or dining room table. Some people have a complete vegetable garden set up inside their garage. There are small indoor greenhouses available and affordable that work well in a garage environment: controlling temperature, humidity, and light.
What about light? Outdoor growing, of course, depends entirely on the sunlight. Indoors it works well also if you have placed your hydroponic system near a window or in a well-lit inside the porch. If not, you could consider something like the affordable and efficient Jump Start Lighting System which comes in two convenient sizes, 2 feet and 4 feet in length, and is entirely portable with a T5 fluorescent light bulb that can simulate the sun.
Nutrients! How to know which one to use? Easy! Nutrients are usually included with each new system along with amounts of guidance. The manufacturers of the nutrients offer much instructional guidance and how-to. Again, there are videos to explain the use and amount. There are wonderful liquid plant nutrients available all the way from encouraging your flowers to have larger more frequent and colorful blooms to help your fruits and vegetables blossom earlier and more abundantly. There are nutrients to make your berries, grapes, and citrus taste sweeter.
Where will you get your plants to place in your new indoor hydroponic garden? You can always grow them from seeds as usual. There is help out there for that also. A Germination Station or Hot House Plus is a great help in the sprouting of seeds. Most of the seedling/germination kits have heat mats and humidity domes to make sure of your success by making the ideal environment for your seedlings to increase their growth rate. Or if you want to skip the seedling part of the deal you can get a new plant directly from rooting cuttings of your neighbor's or friend's thriving plants.
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dragonbagel · 8 years ago
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Bonded - Part 11
after all this time, here it is! read it on ao3 here.
"Is that a thing? Can he actually do that to Rhys?"
Jack heard Tim sigh on the other side of the line, but he wasn't about to shut up just yet.
"Why do you think I'm some sort of expert on this shit?" Tim asked, exhaustion clear in his voice.
"Because you're the one that figured that stuff out about the bond in the first place!" Jack replied.
"And?" Tim said, unamused.
"And this is kind of a big deal! He got so angry he punched his desk!"
Tim groaned. "I know, Jack; you've told me like five times."
"Sorry for thinking you could help," Jack said, his tone anything but apologetic. "I guess I'll just let this asshole continue to manipulate my boyfriend."
"That's not what I said."
"You didn't have to say it."
Tim let out another exasperated sigh. "Look, I'll do some more research tomorrow. It's late and, unlike you, normal people actually need to sleep."
Jack scoffed. "It's only three a.m."
"Case and point, Jack. Case and point."
Jack found his personal ECHOcomm ringing surprisingly early the next day, and raised his eyebrows when he saw Tim's name on the caller ID.
"Hey kiddo, what's up?"
"Me, unfortunately," Tim grumbled. Jack could hear the sound of coffee brewing in the background, and just the thought of it made his stomach growl.
He still had yet to drag himself out of bed, but since it was the weekend, it wasn't like anyone could exactly blame him. He rolled over to ask Rhys if he wanted to be a dear and stick some Eggos in the toaster before he remembered: Rhys wasn't there. He'd been staying over increasingly less often, and the last time he'd seen him had been a few days previous when he'd given the omega his refilled prescription of suppressors. He'd never admit it, but the loneliness was gnawing at Jack. It wasn't as if the alpha lacked friends (Nisha would smack him if he said otherwise), but they weren't exactly up to the same par as Rhys. His entourage would much prefer to punch rather than cuddle with him, and while their gun-smoke-tinged scents were comforting in a familial way, they didn't bring a warm, soothing ease to him in the same way Rhys' did.
Plus, they'd each be quick to shoot him if he asked for their help with the morning wood he was now unfortunately forced to deal with on his own.
"So, Timmy," Jack said, yawning as he shifted in his uncomfortably tight boxers. "What'd you find?"
"Not much," Tim admitted. "They don't exactly go around broadcasting this shit on the ECHOnet."
Jack stretched the hand not holding the phone up over his head, sighing as he felt his ribs pop in an oh-so-satisfying way. "Tell me something I don't know."
"Well," Tim began, causing Jack to raise his eyebrows in amusement. "Did you know that Rhys isn't the first person this has happened to?"
Jack pursed his lips, not wanting to gratify Tim with an answer. Logically, what the beta was saying made perfect sense; despite (as well as because of) the rarity of omegas, they each had a pretty price on their head. And bonding one-- well, that was the rumored key to the kingdom. It made Jack feel like absolute shit to think about, what with him possessing this same biological ability to manipulate and take advantage of someone in a way completely out of their control. He cringed as he thought of how that must make Rhys feel, what anguish it must impart to be so heavily disadvantaged solely by one's genetics.
"I found what looks like a memoir, written by a lady on Elpis. It took a lot of digging, but, well, I think it might be what you're looking for."
Jack sat up at that, sliding his legs over the side of the bed. "What does it say?"
"I didn't have time to read all of it, and some pages were missing, and it was handwritten in this awful cursive that was har--"
"Tim!" Jack interrupted, knowing from experience that once his body double started rambling, he wouldn't shut up on his own.
"Right, right, sorry boss," Tim said, sounding embarrassed. "She said even though she ran from the asshole after he, y'know, did it to her, she could still...feel things. 'Alien emotions,' I think she called it."
"Alien emotions," Jack mused. "And that's what? The name of her top 40 chart topper?"
Tim snorted. "I dunno. Why don't you ask the Katy Perry on your iPod?"
"I told you not to talk about that!" Jack snapped, flushing.
Tim couldn't help but laugh, and he could practically feel Jack's glare through the phone. "You're the one that started a body double program."
Jack opened and closed his mouth a few times, no words coming out. It was way too damn early for this. "I also started my own hit squad, so you'd better watch your mouth."
Tim just chuckled again. "I won't tell Rhys, don't worry."
"You'd better not," Jack muttered, knowing that Rhys would never let him hear the end of it after he'd spent the past year teasing the omega listening to Britney Spears (because seriously, she was the definition of obsolete). "But, anyways, back to these, uh, 'alien emotions.'."
"Right," Tim said, falling back into a serious demeanor. "Well, basically, she sorta...felt things."
"'Things' meaning...?" Jack prompted.
"She said she'd get these random feelings that weren't hers. Through the- through the bond."
"What type of random feelings?" Jack asked, his heart rate starting to pick up.
"It says-- fuck, why does it have to be in cursive-- sometimes she'd be scared-- yeah, I think that says scared-- for no reason. There's one part where she's just sitting on the couch and just gets hit with this terror."
Jack rolled his eyes; great, this was another dead end. "So she had a panic attack?"
"See, that's the thing," Tim continued. "She had no history of anxiety, as far as I can tell."
"I did a bit of background research," Tim added, sensing that Jack was probably confused.
"Hmm," Jack said, not wanting to trust what Tim was saying just yet.
"The feeling just came out of nowhere, and it-- her bonding site, it--"
"Spit it out," Jack said through gritted teeth.
"She said it felt like it was on fire. That's how she knew it had to be him."
Shit. Shit shit shit shit shit. This was the exact opposite of what he'd wanted to hear. Yes, he'd been the one to ask Tim to do this information scavenging for him in the first place; but what he'd really wanted was for Tim to tell him that it was nothing. To tell him that Rhys' anger was just his anger, not some douchewad alpha projecting his emotions onto him.
Jack sighed, dragging his hand across his face in anxiety-turned-anger. "Anything else?"
"Not much. She did say that the bond went away after a while, so at least we know we were right about that part."
Jack huffed; it was a pretty small victory in the grand scheme of things.
"I can send you a copy of it, if you want," Tim offered.
It was common knowledge that Jack wasn't exactly a fan of the whole "reading" thing, but he begrudgingly agreed because if it something involved Rhys, he'd damn well go to the ends of the galaxy and back. No, scratch that-- the alpha wasn't that disgustingly sappy. He'd go through a stalker nest for Rhys (because that was a badass thing to do), but anything more was just... way too endearing.
He groaned. Fuck his stupid hormones and fuck his ridiculous infatuation and, most importantly, fuck this other alpha that was screwing up his entire life.
And Rhys' life too, a small part of his brain supplied.
"Yeah, sure, whatever," Jack said, cradling the phone against his ear as he slipped on a pair of jeans. "I've gotta go, Timmy, but thanks for the help."
He ended the call before Tim could utter a "no problem" or some other nice crap that Jack really didn't have time for. He still wasn't sure how someone who was supposedly his doppelganger could be so kind-hearted; it kinda defeated the whole "having an army of badasses" purpose. Rolling his eyes, he tossed his ECHOcomm onto the bedspread and headed into his walk-in closet to find something semi-presentable to wear.
Semi-presentable, in this case, meant a Hyperion yellow polo shirt, which he rolled up at the sleeves to expose the tattoo encircling his tan wrist. He frowned as he glanced down at it; the design had started to blur a bit, meaning he’d have to get it touched up again soon. And while Jack was by no means a crybaby, that needle managed to wring out a pain far worse than a gunshot wound. He still wasn’t quite sure how Rhys was able to tolerate all the hours of discomfort necessary for such detailed ink, especially on his neck and around his nipple. Jack knew firsthand how sensitive the omega was there.
Rhys. Jack couldn’t stop his gaze from flickering to the corner of the closet, from reimagining Rhys cowered so uncharacteristically in the corner.
The alpha shook his head, opting to check his outfit over in the bathroom while putting on his mask rather than dealing with the unpleasantries of the memory-filled space he was currently in. But that’s why he was doing this in the first place, he had to remind himself. That’s why he was dragging his ass out of bed on a weekend to buy his boyfriend breakfast in a nauseatingly mushy display of affection.
Rhys needed to know that Jack cared. And even if Rhys told Jack almost religiously that he was fine and that he felt better on his own--on his own without Jack -- well, Jack had never been a fan of following the rules, and he wasn’t about to start now.
Jack cursed as he felt his phone starting to vibrate in his pocket. His hands were full of a box of fancy frosted donuts, on top of which was balanced a coffee carrier. The barista had given him a look when he’d ordered five pumps of caramel in one of the drinks, and he unashamedly snapped at her that the CEO of the entire fucking space station could order whatever he damn well pleased in his coffee. Besides, he happened to know a pretty little thing who, despite his proclaimed love of black coffee, loved the sweet taste on Jack’s lips.
The barista’s violated expression had Jack cackling the entire way to Rhys’ apartment.
The alpha grunted as he attempted to shift his pile of goodies onto his left palm, digging in his pocket for his phone with his right.
“Hello?” he asked, answering the phone without even bothering to check the caller ID. He didn’t have enough caffeine in his bloodstream yet to think about the fact that ignoring annoying people was probably more effective than trying to airlock them all after the fact.
Luckily, he wasn’t met with the cringe worthy voice of any of his subordinates pestering him about a deadline or pay raise or other useless, irrelevant complaint.
“Hey Jack! I, uh, didn’t think you’d be up so early.”
Jack chuckled. “Hiya, cupcake!”
He could hear some commotion going on in the background, and a moment later Rhys spoke again. “Did you want to-- ugh, I can’t believe I’m saying this…”
The alpha resumed his trek to Rhys’ apartment, which was just at the end of the hallway.
Rhys’ next words came out in a strung-together rush. “Did you want to go to brunch? With, um, with me?”
Jack could feel the corners of his lips curling up in a smile, something about the way Rhys always managed to be awkward and nervous around him after all this time coming off as quite charming.
“‘Course I do, Rhysie.”
Donuts and coffee in bed could count as brunch, Jack supposed as he neared Rhys’ shared apartment.
“Alright, I’ll send you the name of the place. See you in an hour?”
“Kitten, I think I’ll be seeing you a bit sooner than you thiiiiiii--”
Jack’s line had been going so smoothly. At least, he’d thought it had been. His balancing act, however, hadn’t been so fortunate. Rhys’ neighbors had left their newspaper (asshole freakin old people) outside their door, perfectly placed so that Jack’s above-your-pay-grade shoe had slipped on it. Meaning Jack’s suave line had been cut short. Meaning that the alpha had fallen on his ass in a loud, impromptu bang.
Meaning that when Rhys poked his head out the door to investigate the commotion, he found Jack on the floor covered in the wreckage of what had once been breakfast.
“Jack?” he asked, covering his mouth with his hand in what Jack knew was an attempt to hide a grin.
“Hey Rhysie,” Jack sighed, shooting him a less-than-glamorous smile. “Wanna help me up here?”
“Depends,” Rhys said, stepping out into the hallway towards Jack. “Were these donuts for me?”
The alpha laughed, shifting the dented box of pastries off of him and holding up a hand to Rhys. The omega rolled his eyes, muttering something along the lines of “drama queen” as he interlaced his fingers with Jack’s.
“Why are you so heavy?” he grunted, digging his heels into the ground as he raised Jack up to stand, the alpha resting his weight on him and pulling him into a hug. “And quit it, your stupid coffee is getting me all sticky.”
“Never heard you complain about me getting you sticky before, pumpkin,” Jack said with a smirk, pecking a kiss onto Rhys’ forehead as the omega blushed.
“Ew, seriously?”
Rhys flushed even deeper at the sound of Vaughn’s voice and the knowledge that Vaughn had most definitely understood what Jack had just insinuated.
“You didn’t tell me Short Stuff was here,” Jack whispered into Rhys’ ear, a bit upset they wouldn’t be having alone time.
Rhys rolled his eyes. “He lives here too. And besides, he’s the reason I invited you, it’s supposed to be a sort of--”
“Double date!”
Rhys and Jack both looked to see Vaughn’s girlfriend, Leia, peering at them with a grin over the beta’s shoulder. She waved when she caught their gaze, beckoning for them to come inside as she retreated back into the apartment.
“Shall we?” Jack asked, scooping up the remnants of what would’ve been a freakin’ awesome surprise breakfast and following Rhys inside.
Once Jack had recovered from his tripping incident (that nobody should ever talk about if they wanted to keep their limbs attached their body), he noticed that Rhys looked like he’d just rolled out of bed. Rhys’ cybernetic arm wasn’t attached, leaving the right sleeve of his faded t-shirt to hang limply at the shoulder. His normally gelled-back hair was still in a sleep-rumpled disarray, and Jack felt a bit of heat rush to his face as he noticed the way Rhys’ red pajama pants managed to cling to his body in all the right places despite their obvious wear-and-tear.
“Ooh, are these for us?” Leia asked, excitedly pointing to the food Jack was holding.
“Well, they were for Rhys, but I guess if you ask real nice…”
“No way!” Rhys interjected, snagging the dented yet still intact box of donuts. “These are mine!”
Leia snorted. “And here I thought you were a gentleman.”
“I am,” Rhys said, popping the lid off the box. “A gentleman whose boyfriend brought me donuts.”
Leia made to lunge for the goodies, but Vaughn wrapped his arm around her waist to hold her back. “Let Rhys have them, since he already seems so deadset on making us late.”
“Not cool, bro!” Rhys threw Vaughn an accusatory look. “And fine, you can have some-- just don’t touch the ones with the chocolate sprinkles.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Leia said, rolling her eyes. “Now go take a shower, you stink.”
“You stink,” Rhys shot back lamely, taking another bite of his donut before handing the box off to her and heading towards the bathroom.
Jack looked down at his clothes, which were covered in coffee stains. Now that he thought about it, a shower did sound nice-- especially a shower with Rhys…
“No way.”
Jack looked up as Vaughn was staring him down (or, rather, staring him up, what with the height difference). “What?”
“You’re not going in there,” he said firmly. “I will not have you two banging in my shower.”
Jack struggled to choke back a laugh. He hadn’t even noticed he’d been edging towards the bathroom. “Come on, Muscles. It wouldn’t be the first time.”
Vaughn gagged, sending both Jack into a fit of laughter. “You’re disgusting.”
Even Leia was giggling at this point, as much as she was trying to hide it from her affronted-looking boyfriend. She was attempting to hone all her focus into putting on a pair of earrings (as both she and Vaughn were already dressed and ready to go), but her hair kept getting in her way. “Help?” she asked, looking up innocently.
“No way,” Vaughn said. “You sided with him .” He talked about Jack as if he were a disease he didn’t want too close to him.
Jack took the opportunity to piss off Vaughn even further, walking over to Leia and lightly pulling back her dreadlocks so that she could actually get to her ears. The tips of her hair were dyed blue, the color matching the vibrant hue of her eyes, which stood in stark pale contrast to her dark skin.
“Thanks,” she said, sticking her tongue out at Vaughn as she affixed the jewelry.
Jack smirked, especially as Leia pulled a ponytail off her wrist to tie her hair into a low bun.
“Seriously?” Vaughn groaned, hating the sly look Jack and Leia gave each other.
“Sorry babe,” Leia said, standing and kissing Vaughn lightly on the lips. “But it’s just way too fun to annoy you.”
“And easy!” Jack added, his expression smug.
“Alright, alright.” Vaughn sounded resigned as he raised his hands in surrender. Why did Rhys and his stupidly long hair-styling routine have to abandon him with these two? “Can someone go tell Rhys to hurry his ass up?”
It took Jack a moment to realize that Vaughn was referring to him. “Sure thing, cupcake,” he said with a salute, not even minding the super transparent excuse Vaughn had thrust onto him to get the alpha to leave.
The door to the bathroom was cracked open, and Jack quietly entered without knocking. It wasn’t like he hadn’t seen every inch of the omega before, after all. He expected to see Rhys combing his hair or drowning himself in cologne.
He didn’t expect to see Rhys standing shirtless in the center of the room, unmoving, while staring at his reflection in the mirror.
“Uh, Rhysie?” he asked, snapping his fingers.
Rhys jolted as if he’d been shocked, turning to face Jack as color flooded his cheeks. “Oh, uh, sorry Jack. Kinda zoned out there.”
“No kidding,” Jack said, shaking his head in bemusement before stepping forward and kissing Rhys.
“Ew, get off! I just got clean!”
Jack chuckled. “Sorry, cupcake. I didn’t exactly come with a change of clothes.”
“I can give you some of mine to wear,” Rhys offered, scratching at the back of his neck. His nervous tic was becoming even more pronounced, and in all honesty it was worrisome to Jack.
“I don’t know if you noticed, kitten, but I ain’t exactly a beanstalk like you.” Ignoring anxiety with humor, Jack thought to himself. Classic.
“Rude!” Rhys said in fake, overexaggerated offense. “I guess you’ll just have to wear Vaughn’s clothes instead.”
Jack groaned at the prospect, but at least Vaughn had a similarly bulky build. “Fine,” he said, holding out his hand to Rhys. “Let’s just get this over with.”
“You mean the clothes or the brunch?” Rhys asked, smiling.
Jack felt a grin stretch across his face as well. “Both, pumpkin. Definitely both.”
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howellrichard · 6 years ago
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Why I Created the Healing Cancer World Summit (a new personal story)
Hiya Gorgeous!
There’s something personal and difficult that I’ve wanted to share with you, my beloved community, for a while now, but I just wasn’t ready. I didn’t have the words because I was still processing my feelings. Plus, I was in game plan mode and maybe even experiencing a little PTSD. In the fall of 2016, my phenomenal dad was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer.
Typing those words still takes the air out of my lungs.
I had just finished speaking at the very last Hay House ICDI event in Ft. Lauderdale when my family’s life changed forever–yet again. Because my plane was delayed, I decided to stay with my parents in Connecticut rather than make the longer journey back to Woodstock. On the drive to their house, I found myself daydreaming about all the things I would focus on thanks to my newfound spaciousness. Maybe you can relate to my “once this is done I’ll relax and take care of myself” mentality.
What’s the famous John Lennon quote? Life is what happens when you’re making other plans? Ain’t that the truth.
The first clue something was wrong: I pulled into my parents driveway around midnight and all the lights were on. The only time that used to happen was when I was late for curfew and about to be grounded. My mom greeted me at the door, fully dressed (not in PJs), we said our hellos, hugged and briefly caught up. But all the while I was suspicious–waiting for the shoe to drop. And then it did.
“Listen, there’s something I need to tell you,” my mom started, “I don’t know how to say this so I’ll just say it, Dad has a mass on his pancreas and he needs to get a biopsy on Monday.” His pancreas? Shit. Shit. Shit.
I kept my cool but inside I was falling to pieces.
My dad is one of the most treasured people in my life. He has always been there for me, especially when he adopted me. Without my dad, I wouldn’t be the person I am today. He truly is an earth angel and when I needed him most (when I was diagnosed), he was the first person at my side. He almost created a traffic accident rushing to the hospital where I was sitting by myself, waiting for the results that would change my life forever.
“Can I come to his biopsy with you? And can I stay for as long as it takes to help you figure this out?” I asked.
“Oh, yes, please” my mom responded. We both cried and then we did what the women in my family do, we put on our game faces and started creating a healing (save-our-ass) strategy.
I didn’t sleep at all that night and I sadly don’t fully remember what I said to my dad the next morning. What I do remember vividly was his biopsy. He was still a little groggy when he came out of the procedure wearing nice “slacks,” dress shoes and a crisp button-down shirt, because in his words, “you have to look spiffy for these things.” Rest assured, I was not wearing my Sunday best when I had my own biopsy. It was a miracle I even brushed my teeth!
As I walked him to the car, holding his arm to steady his balance, he told me that he was sorry that my rock (him) was a little wobbly. This gutted me, but I didn’t let him see it. Later I stuffed myself into a closet where I could scream and cry into a pillow and he wouldn’t hear me.
But in that moment I just told him how honored I was to get to be his rock for a while.
And that’s exactly what I tried to do, as best as I could. For the first time in my journey as a patient, I experienced what it’s like to be a caregiver. Boy, do I have a whole new respect and understanding for all of you who have walked this path–especially my mom. My mother’s strength, grit, grace, love and unwavering determination are immeasurable. Let’s just say that when life kicks you in the teeth, she’s the kind of person you want by your side.
I also have more compassion for fellow-patients. Because I’ve never had treatment, I could previously only imagine what it was like for people. Well, this time I got to witness it firsthand. I had to learn how to take all of my knowledge and expectations and adapt them to my dad’s day-to-day reality, because sometimes he was too sick to rally around my self-care agenda. And that was OK.
If you’ve been following me for a while, you know that I don’t use the “gift” lingo when it comes to cancer. Yes, there are many life enriching blessings that come from the journey, but a gift is something different (at least to me). However, the fact that my family and I had learned so much as a result of my own diagnosis was indeed a great blessing. In fact, I’ve sometimes thought that the reason I got sick was so we’d have half a clue about what to do when my dad needed us most.
Now granted, I have this rare, stable, stage IV disease that I’ve managed to live with for 15 years now. I’ve never had treatment and so far I haven’t needed to, which is amazing because there still really aren’t any options for me.
My dad’s situation was the opposite. His disease was aggressive and if he didn’t have chemo, radiation and surgery, his chances of survival were slim. In fact, after his Whipple procedure (one hell of a frickin’ complicated surgery!) his talented and compassionate surgeon told us that if it hadn’t gone well, my dad may have only had about 2 months to live.
Typing those words also takes the air out of my lungs.
Thankfully his treatment was a success and today my dad is in remission, which is why I’m ready to share this story (with his permission). It’s also why I’m writing this blog today.
Over the years I’ve promoted several online summits that I think could add immense value to your life. But many people have encouraged me to create my own specifically about cancer and prevention.
Though I liked the idea, I was often busy with other projects, and to be honest, I didn’t really want to dedicate a year of my life (the time it takes to create an online event like this) talking about cancer. Maybe because I spent so much of my early days sharing my story or maybe because I’m still a patient, and sometimes need a break from it all.
But when my dad got sick and we flew into action, finding the best doctors and surgeons, helping with dietary and lifestyle changes, and ultimately creating a healing plan that continues to this day, I was reminded of just how much my family and I know—and how many world-renowned experts I have on speed-dial.
That’s when Reid Tracy, the wonderful CEO of Hay House, circled back and said that if I was ready to host my own cancer summit, they would partner with me to help my team and I share it with the world. Reid had been checking in on me often, like the good friend and solid citizen he is. He knew what I was going through personally, but he also knew how healing this would could be for countless people–including me and my dad. I knew he was right.
I also felt totally inspired by my dad’s strength. I watched this man, who is so dear to me, go through the valley of the shadow of death. And yet he did it with such grace, humor and resilience. He even skipped to the hospital at 5:30 a.m. the morning of the surgery! WTF? His motto was “hold fast” and he did just that.
So I said, “HELL YES! Let’s do this, Reid.”
That’s where the Healing Cancer World Summit began.
Today, I’m thrilled to announce that the Summit launches on October 17 and registration is now open!
Whether you’re a cancer patient, survivor, thriver, caregiver or interested in prevention, this Summit is for you. I carefully selected and interviewed 20 of the world’s top integrative oncologists, wellness experts, dietitians, spiritual teachers and remarkable survivors to bring you the most comprehensive and inspiring wellness event you’ve ever experienced.
I just signed up for the Healing Cancer World Summit with @kris_carr and @hayhouse! Learn more about this incredible event…
And here’s something else you should know: This event is not about fear. It’s not about scaring you with statistics or telling you that cancer is your fault. This event is about giving you the hope and support you need to tackle whatever comes your way. I really hope to see you there—and did I mention that it’s completely free?
Click here to learn more and register for the Summit!
The truth is, there isn’t a magic bullet or a one-sided approach to healing. If there was, we would have won the so-called war on cancer by now. It’s also not your fault if you’re facing this situation. We don’t always have the tools and knowledge we need to avoid illness, and sometimes our genes are at play, too.
But each of us has the beautiful opportunity and responsibility to care for ourselves and that’s what I focused on in this Summit. No fear. Only positivity and possibilities–which is exactly what I needed in my own journey. Your turn: Let me know that you’ve signed up for the Healing Cancer World Summit by giving me a big “I’M IN!” in the comments below. I can’t wait for you to join me!
Peace and healing,
The post Why I Created the Healing Cancer World Summit (a new personal story) appeared first on KrisCarr.com.
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anavoliselenu · 8 years ago
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Grounded chapter 1
CHAPTER ONE
Mr. Cavendish
We sped towards Manhattan in a luxurious town car. Stephan and Javier sat close together, clutching hands, their eyes fixed on me in concern. Justin held me close against him, his hands comforting as they stroked over me.
I’d found out just a few days ago that my father had remarried after my mother’s death. On the tail of that revelation, I had found out that I had a half-brother who was just one year younger than I am. That meant that my father had been with this other woman for years before my mother had died. Before he had killed her.
I had no love for the woman, Sharon, who my father had married. In fact, I felt a cold distaste shiver through my body at just the thought of her.
I’d just discovered that she had been killed last night, and in the same method that my mother had been. I hadn’t liked the woman, but since I had discovered her existence, I had felt the need to warn her about my father. I was positive that she must have known firsthand just how abusive and violent he was, but I had wanted to warn her just what he was capable of, if only to clear my conscience.
I had tried, several times, to get ahold of her, but I’d had no luck. Logical or not, I felt a crushing guilt at my failure. Justin seemed to sense my inner turmoil, and sought to comfort me with his touch.
He just held me for several minutes before breaking the heavy silence that had overtaken the four of us. “Would you guys like to have breakfast at a restaurant or at our apartment?” His tone was polite.
Stephan didn’t hesitate. “Your apartment. I saw a spread on it in an interior design magazine a few weeks ago. I’ve been looking forward to getting a tour.”
Justin nodded. “Good.��� He checked his watch. “Unfortunately, I only have about an hour before I need to get back to my office.”
I stiffened, feeling unreasonably disappointed at the news, though I hadn’t even thought he’d be there to meet us at the airport. He had mentioned several meetings today, but I still couldn’t seem to help feeling let down that we wouldn’t get more time together before he had to go back to work.
He seemed to feel the change in me and began to rub my back comfortingly. He spoke softly to me. “I should be able to cut my workday short, and make it back to the apartment by four, but I’d still love for you to come by my office for lunch. Say around eleven? I—“
“I’ll be there,” I told him quickly, wanting any time with him that I could get.
I felt needy for him, as though we’d been parted for weeks or months instead of days. I hadn’t been this desperate ever before, even during the time I’d forced him to stay away for nearly a month. I thought I was more desperate now because I had allowed myself to begin to think that he and I might actually have a future together. The thought both excited me and made my gut twist with an acute anxiety.
He kissed the top of my head but didn’t say anything more about it. We let Stephan and Javier chatter excitedly about their plans for the day, which included a jog in Central Park and a Broadway show, though they couldn’t decide on what.
“Do you guys mind if I make us all early dinner reservations? I’ll make it somewhere good, though that may be my own bias showing, since I’ll most likely own the place.” Justin smiled that self-deprecating smile of his that I always wanted to trace away with my fingertips.
Stephan and Javier agreed enthusiastically. I thought it was sweet of him to think of it, but I felt just a tiny bit disappointed. I wanted time alone with him, and even a few extra hours of waiting seemed torturous.
Clark drove us to the underground garage elevator without having to be told, giving me a very friendly smile as Justin helped me from the car. I smiled back. Justin’s chauffeur/bodyguard was apparently pleased that we’d gotten back together. I thought it was nice that he seemed to approve of me.
Stephan was restless with excitement as the elevator climbed to the penthouse.
Justin gave us a rather rushed tour through the opulent space, making a point of showing off all of the spaces that now sported my paintings. I flushed every time he did that, still uncomfortable with compliments about my favorite hobby.
The whole place was modern and sleek with the Cavendish designer touch all over it. I’d seen it all before, and even I was impressed.
He led us down a long hallway with stark modern gray wood lining the floors, ending the tour at the intimidating dining room.
Stephan and Javier immediately moved to the window that lined nearly the entire wall of the room and looked out on the spectacular view of Central Park.
“Wow,” Javier said quietly.
“Amazing,” Stephan breathed.
I moved to the window beside Stephan, equally awed by the now familiar view.
Justin wrapped himself around me from behind, leaning down to my ear. “I need to go. Your security will be waiting at the elevator at ten thirty to take you to my office. If you need to go anywhere before then, just call the security number saved into your phone.”
A door opened from the kitchen, a smiling Marion peeking in. She got our breakfast orders and cheerfully bustled back into the kitchen.
“Walk me out?” Justin asked softly, mouth still right at my ear.
I shivered, nodding.
Justin said his goodbyes to Stephan and Javier, tugging me swiftly from the room.
He took a shortcut to the elevator. Or rather, I thought it was a shortcut, right up until he was yanking me into a small sitting area.
I barely got a glance at the vaguely familiar room before he was closing the door and crushing me against it, kissing me like his life depended on it. The kiss had none of his finesse, and not an ounce of his restraint. It was a rough, bruising kiss, and I reveled in it. I would have kissed him back, but it wasn’t that kind of kiss. All that I could do was submit, my mouth softening for him—my whole body softening.
He pulled back abruptly.
I moaned a protest.
He wrapped one hand around my throat, squeezing just enough to make me gasp, the other hand going to my mouth. He pressed just one finger over my lips. “I have to go. But I need to have you. Promise me you’ll come to my office at eleven.”
I met his beautiful eyes, searching them. His face and voice were raw with need. And fear.
“I told you I’d be there,” I said to him, not sure what he needed from me, or how to take that awful look from his eyes.
“Promise me,” he said softly, his voice close enough to a plea to make my chest hurt.
“I promise,” I said softly.
He just nodded, his face painfully solemn. He tugged me after him, and I followed him to the elevator.
He pushed the button, pulling me into his chest as he waited for the car. It wasn’t a coincidence that he pressed my cheek over his heart. Right over the place where he’d tattooed my name in crimson.
He didn’t kiss me again. In fact, he barely looked at me. His professional mask was in place as the elevator closed on my last glimpse of him.
I walked back to the dining room on heavy feet.
We finished breakfast quickly, all of us ready for a nap.
Stephan and Javier were staying on the floor below my bedroom with Justin, lined up with that perfect view of Central Park. I walked them to their door, giving Stephan a perfunctory kiss goodnight before heading up to the room I shared with Justin. I could hear their amazed and excited exclamations even as I walked away, and I smiled fondly. That was the greatest benefit of wealth, I thought. To make others happy.
I made my way to our lonely bedroom.
I stood frozen in the doorway to our room for long moments, feeling so odd being there without Justin. It felt so empty and strange.
I did the minimum amount to get ready for bed, crawling into bed only after I had carefully set an alarm. I would only be getting a short nap, but it would be worth it to see Justin in a few hours.
I woke up groggy and disoriented but as the fog cleared from my brain and I realized whose bed I was in, and who I would be seeing in just one hour, the fog cleared completely, and I rushed into the shower, nervous and excited.
My phone beeped a text at me right as I was re-entering the bedroom, and I went to read it, still wrapped in a towel.
Justin: Wear a skirt.
It was an innocent enough request, from anyone but Justin perhaps, but from him, my breath caught in breathless anticipation. I hadn’t known just what we would be able to do at his office, so I had been braced for just an innocent lunch, though of course I had been hoping for more. My mood soared as I got ready, excitement pulsing through me. He had plans for me; I just knew it.
I tried not to be intimidated by my new wardrobe as I browsed through it for a skirt. The labels were things I never could have afforded on my own though, so it was hard for me not to dwell on the fact that I was letting Justin spend a fortune on me. I had been counting my pennies for so long that I couldn’t help but think it was all a bit of a waste. Half of his colossal closet was now filled with extravagant designer women’s clothing. There was no way that he hadn’t spent tens of thousands of dollars on it all.
I knew it was silly, but somehow the clothing intimidated me even more than all of the diamond jewelry that he seemed to need to lavish on me. Yes, it was silly, but the fact was that I knew enough about clothes to have a clue what those labels were worth, whereas my knowledge on the price of jewelry was beyond negligible.
The clothing was all paired together into outfits. I would have been more grateful for that convenience if I hadn’t known that it had to be the work of Jackie. I wasn’t exactly a fan.
I quickly picked out a comfortable looking azure blue, silk dress. I tried not to even look at the label, but it didn’t work, since the Armani Collezioni tag practically jumped out at me.
I donned my bra and panties, pulled the decadently soft fabric over my head, and fell instantly in love.
It was beyond comfortable, and actually looked great to boot. It hugged my curves in the most flattering way, without being the slightest bit tight. And unlike most of the clothing I usually tried on, it was made for my height, the proportions just right, not too short in either my torso or legs. Apparently there was something to spending a fortune on clothing. Of course, most of the clothes I’d owned previously never cost more than twenty dollars, tops…
There was an entire section of the closet devoted entirely to shoes and I went there next. My mouth curved and my heart warmed as I saw what Justin had done there.
There were nothing but wedges and running shoes. Of all the things he’d purchased for me in this monstrosity of a closet, I thought that this was the sweetest. I’d made the barest mention to him once that the only shoes I liked were wedges and running shoes, and it was apparent that he had been listening.
All of the women’s shoes were peeking out of boxes, and all of the boxes were marked with yellow tags sporting numbers in big red letters. My brow furrowed. The tags on all of the clothing had the same thing. I reached back with a sigh, carefully trying to rip off the tag at my back without causing damage to the lovely dress.
My brow furrowed as I saw the number 543 listed on the tag. I studied the rows of shoeboxes, my eyes eventually finding a matching number there. I sighed, my mouth twisting wryly, as I saw the system that had been set up. Jackie apparently didn’t trust me to pair my shoes and clothing without help.
Part of me wanted to ignore her not so subtle suggestions and just wear whatever I felt like wearing, but she was a professional shopper, and I barely ever shopped.
I decided gamely to give her recommendation a try. Why not? If I hated the shoes she’d picked, I’d just wear something else.
I opened the box to find a pair of yellow, Prada patent-leather wedges with a peep toe and a smart little leather bow. I thought they were adorable.
I put them on and found that Jackie knew her stuff. As a bonus, they were comfortable and easy to walk in.
I went a little heavy with my eye makeup, going for a smoky eye, but I thought it worked. I was liberal with the black mascara, and went with my usual lip stain and soft pink gloss. I was pleased with the end result. I had taken longer than usual with my makeup, but it had still only taken ten minutes, which gave me a solid ten minutes for my hair, which only needed a quick blow-dry. I gave myself a quick once over, noting that the haircut had been a very good idea for me. Straight blonde bangs now framed my face, bringing out my eyes until they were an almost startling, pale aquamarine.
I was running right on time when I heard a knock on the bedroom door. I opened the door, thinking that it had to be Marion. I was less than thrilled to look down at Jackie. She smiled at me.
She eyed me up and down, smiling as though she hadn’t already clearly expressed how much she disliked me. “Very nice. Armani fits you well. I’ll make a note of it.”
My face had schooled into a carefully blank expression at the sight of her. I just couldn’t make myself smile back at her, but I would manage to remain civil. “I’m in a hurry, if you’ll please excuse me…”
She held up a finger. “One thing. I set up your bag collection in the fitting room. Justin hates clutter and they take up a lot of room, so this seemed like the best option. Come right this way.”
She strode off without waiting for my agreement.
I followed unenthusiastically, determined to see what she was talking about and get on my way in a timely fashion.
She led me to the guest bedroom I had used just a few days ago to try on dresses. The large closet now had roughly half of it devoted solely to handbags.
I groaned.
Jackie shot me a look. It was very nearly hostile. “You don’t like bags?” she asked incredulously.
I grimaced. “I like some of them, but clutches are not happening for me. I can’t stand having to hold something all the time. I need something with a long strap.”
She made a noise of pure disgust, but didn’t waste any time selecting a bag for me. She thrust a large, cream-colored leather satchel-style bag in my direction.
“For the love of God, at least hook it on your arm. If I see you wearing it cross-body, I may just scream.”
I took the bag from her, gave her a very unfriendly look, and strode out of the room. I had to return to our bedroom briefly to put all of my things in the bag before rushing downstairs, now late.
CHAPTER TWO
Mr. Violent
I descended the stairs, rushing to the elevators. A security team awaited me at the elevators. A team…
I blinked at the three austere men in suits and the one woman who managed to be the most intimidating of the bunch.
Blake nodded at me, speaking first. “Ms. Karlsson, let me introduce you to the rest of your security detail.” She pointed to the man closest to her. He was massive with muscles and obviously armed under his finely tailored suit. His dark hair was cut very short and his features were severe but appealing. “This is Williams.”
“Ms. Karlsson,” he said, nodding at me politely.
I nodded back, trying to file the name into my memory. I was apparently going to need to learn a lot of them, with this much security.
The elevator car arrived and Blake waved me inside. I walked in, trying not to feel intimidated as the four of them flanked me.
Blake cleared her throat. “We need to hurry. Mr. Cavendish won’t be pleased if you’re late.” She quickly introduced the other two men.
One was shorter than the others, at least an inch shorter than me, if I wasn’t wearing three inch heels. He was still intimidatingly swollen with muscles though, and his short blond hair made him look unquestionably ex-military. Blake introduced him as Henry.
The last one was my height almost exactly in my heels, with medium brown hair and smiling brown eyes. He was less severe than the others, and more attractive, but he still held himself in that disciplined way that had law-enforcement written all over it. Blake introduced him as Johnny.
I thought it was odd that some of them used their first names, and some their last names, but I didn’t ask them about it. I had been conditioned from a very young age not to pry.
It was late June, and hot as hell in New York. I was thankful for my lightweight clothing, since the heat and humidity instantly attached themselves to me the second we stepped outside. My security flanked me closely as we moved from the elevator to a swank limo that was lined up directly with the lobby entrance.
I tried to act as though I wasn’t uncomfortable with my extremely affluent settings and my ridiculous overabundance of security, but I felt very stiff as I moved from the elevator to the car.
My security team arranged themselves as though they had choreographed it, which I supposed they had. Blake and Johnny joined me in the cab of the vehicle, Henry taking shotgun, and Williams driving. The short ride to the Cavendish property was a strange affair. Blake maintained complete and utter silence, and Johnny seemed almost too friendly to fit in with the rest of the security guards I’d met so far.
“So, Selena, how are you liking the move to New York?”
I blinked at him, nonplussed. I’d gotten so used to how the other bodyguards were professional to a fault that I hadn’t been prepared for even idle chat. And the question…
“I haven’t really moved here. I’m going back and forth from Vegas. But I do like New York. I’ve had a route here for years, with no plans to change it.”
Johnny shot me a bewildered look. “You’re keeping your job? You’re staying a stewardess?”
I eyed him suspiciously. I wasn’t one to pry, but Johnny apparently was. “Well, yes. It’s my job. Why would I quit?”
“Um, maybe because Mr. Cavendish is spending four times what you make a week on security for every single one of your flights—“
“Enough,” Blake interrupted him harshly. “You know better, Johnny. If you upset Ms. Karlsson, Mr. Cavendish will fire you. Hell, he’ll fire all of us.”
The car grew painfully awkward after that, as I had no idea how to respond to such an unexpected outburst from a stranger, and of course I wouldn’t, since I didn’t owe anyone any explanations about my life. The nerve…
I brooded all the way to our destination, staring out the window, my face a blank mask.
I had never been inside the Manhattan Cavendish Hotel, but I recognized the colossal building. The blue, modern reflective glass windows that lined the entire building made it stand out as a new and sparkling gem amongst skyscrapers.
My security detail moved into their well-choreographed formation as I stepped out of the car, escorting me into the lobby as though I were a threatened head of state. I felt ridiculous.
I had no idea where to go, but luckily I didn’t need to. Blake led me unerringly through the sumptuous marble lobby.
We were nearly to a bank of well-guarded elevators when I heard a female voice call my name. Surprised, I turned to see who it was, and stiffened.
Jolene sauntered over to us, a lush smile on her lips. She was beyond scantily clad, wearing only the tiniest bike shorts I’d ever seen and a sports bra that was so minuscule I didn’t imagine for a second that it could actually do its job. I couldn’t guess what she was dressed for. I’d almost have thought working out except that she was wearing sexy black sandals and her hair was down, hanging in curling ringlets around her shoulders and back.
Johnny whistled appreciatively as she approached. He stood directly at my right but I didn’t spare him a glance. “Hottest f**king chick I’ve ever seen,” he muttered, not quite keeping it under his breath. Okay, I was not a Johnny fan; it was official.
Jolene tried to move close to me, but Blake got in her way before she was within three feet of me. She pouted a little, but it was obviously an affectation. “Selena! How are you?”
I had always considered myself a controlled person. Things rarely came out of my mouth unless I meant for them to. I knew right away that this would be one of those rare times when my brain would not be doing the talking. “What are you doing here? And why are you dressed like that?” I asked her coldly.
She gave me a look that made me stiffen. It was pointed and knowing. She was up to trouble. “I just got finished working out. This place has a great gym. And I’m dressed like this because Justin loves to see my skin. He says I have the sexiest stomach on the planet.” As she spoke, she ran a manicured hand from her throat to the low waist of those obscene shorts. She did have a lovely stomach, all well-toned hollows and dusky skin, her waist ridiculously tiny, especially compared to the oversized br**sts that nearly spilled from her top. She exuded sex, and I hated her.
My breath caught at her implication. Was she saying that she was here to see Justin? That he was still seeing her? Was she flat-out lying, or telling some twisted version of the truth? Either way, I was sick to death of her, and I’d only met her twice…
“Are you saying that you’re here to see Justin? That he invited you here? Just speak plainly, because I have absolutely no patience for these games,” I told her in my blankest, coldest voice. That voice was an old defense mechanism for me.
She pursed her lips, running her tongue over her teeth. I wanted to smack her. I was shocked by the urge, but even my shock didn’t seem to make my sudden rage abate.
“None of your business,” she said petulantly, crossing her arms, which pushed her fake, ample br**sts even higher. That bra was so useless that I could make out just the barest hint of the top of her n**ples as she pushed them up.
I couldn’t believe that Justin had spent so much time with this woman, even with her over the top sex appeal. To my mind, he was the epitome of class, with his charm and his manners and his impossible beauty, whereas she seemed to relish her own trashiness.
“It is certainly her business,” a voice that made me want to melt spoke from behind me. A big, warm hand pressed into the nape of my neck, gently brushing aside my long hair to settle there possessively. I didn’t look at Justin. I was too angry and upset and just plain hungry for the sight of him.
“Why are you still here, Jolene?” he asked coldly. “I told you to leave this morning, when you tried to barge, uninvited, into my office. Do I need to have you escorted from the property?”
A raw expression passed over her features so briefly that I thought I might have imagined it. Her beautiful face swiftly worked itself into a satisfied smile. She flipped her curly black hair behind her shoulders, thrusting her br**sts into prominent display. As though they needed the help. “I’m here with Scott. He’s staying in the penthouse, and I’m his guest. Are you going to ask him to leave, as well?”
Justin moved close against my back, wrapping his arms around my shoulders. I could tell by her eyes on those arms that Jolene did not appreciate the sight. “Perhaps I’ll tell him what you’ve been up to. Just how tolerant do you think your husband will be if he knows that you’ve been up to your old tricks?”
She stiffened, looking just a touch alarmed, before schooling her face into a serene expression. “He won’t believe you. And even if he did, you’d never do that. You know how much it would hurt him.”
“It’s becoming very clear to me that the truth couldn’t possibly hurt Scott as much as you have, Jolene. I don’t have an ounce of patience left where you’re concerned. Keep that in mind.”
A movement caught the corner of my eye and I glanced behind Jolene, to where a figure was eating up the ground as a large man strode purposefully towards our group.
He was tall and lanky but still moved with the fit stride of an athlete. His coloring was similar to Justin’s, with light brown hair and very tan skin, though his had most likely come from the sun. As he got closer, I saw that his turbulent eyes were dark brown. At a glance he might have resembled Justin, but on closer inspection, his good looks were more rugged—less refined.
“I told you to stay away from my wife,” the man growled as soon as he was within earshot. I realized with a little jolt of surprise that the man looked very familiar. I couldn’t place where, but I had definitely seen his face somewhere. “Yet somehow, every time I turn my back for five minutes, here you are. You need to let her go, Justin.”
Justin stiffened against me, but his tone was surprisingly bland when he spoke. “You need to think about what you’re saying, my friend. She hasn’t been honest with you, and if it was up to me, I’d never set eyes on her again. Your wife has been stalking me and my girlfriend, and I have had enough of it. I’m in a serious, committed relationship, and I want nothing to do with her. I didn’t touch Jolene when I found out she was your wife three years ago, and I most certainly wouldn’t now. If I could go back in time and save you some pain, Scott, I would have never touched her at all, and I certainly never would have introduced her to you. She’s not who you think she is. She’s not worthy of the pedestal you’ve put her on.”
Scott did not take his words the way that I knew Justin had intended him. I could tell by the sincerity in his voice that Justin had only been speaking the brutal truth.
Scott sneered. It made his face ugly. “Watch your mouth. You’re talking about my wife.” His raw gaze turned to me. “So he’s in a serious committed relationship with you, huh? You should know that he doesn’t know the meaning of those words. He’ll toss you aside like all the rest. If you’re lucky, he’ll pass you off to a rich friend when he’s done with you.”
I was turning into Justin’s chest even as he moved. I buried my face in his neck, gripping my arms around his ribs, holding on tight.
“Don’t,” I murmured into his neck. It stopped his movements. Scott had been trying to goad him, and I knew it had worked, but I needed Justin to control his temper—to control his fists. Justin wrapped stiff arms around me, as though unable to ignore my affectionate gesture, even in a rage.
“If you ever speak to her like that again, you will regret it,” Justin said, his voice filled with an awful rage.
Scott snorted, and even from that noise I could tell that his temper was every bit as close to the surface as Justin’s. “You’re worried what I’ll say to her? You f**ked my wife, Justin, God only knows how many times, and you’re worried that I’ll what…hurt your latest fuck’s feelings?”
Justin turned me gently, ushering me to the elevators directly behind us. He stroked his hand over my hair, and I could feel that it was trembling. “My love,” he said, his voice hoarse, but still managing to be tender. “I need you to go upstairs. Please, wait for me. I’ll be joining you momentarily.” He pressed the button as he spoke, still clutching me close.
I wanted to say something, wanted to plead with him not to do anything rash, not to get himself into trouble, or worse, hurt, but I couldn’t seem to make myself speak.
The elevator stopped, the doors opening, and I stepped inside without a word. Blake and Johnny filed in behind me, and I was relieved that at least two of the bodyguards remained with Justin.
The elevator doors closed and we began to go up. I had no idea what floor we were going to, or even how many floors there were. I glanced at the panel to see, but my eyes just glossed over and I lost my train of thought.
The elevator finally stopped and I followed Blake out. My mind distractedly noticed that my surroundings were rich and opulent, my heels clicking smartly on dark marble floors, but my mind was still stuck on what could be going on downstairs—what I’d been too much of a coward to stay and watch, or even stay and prevent.
A young, polished brunette greeted us from behind a massive desk. “Ms. Karlsson, Ms. Blake, Johnny,” she murmured as we passed her. I wondered how she could have known me by sight. No doubt it was obvious by my armed escorts…
All of this was just a distracted, distant thought, as well, as Blake led me into a huge office that had windows lining more walls than not.
Blake did a thorough search of the office, checking every inch of the space and inside of the two doors that attached. Johnny stayed close to my side as she did so. I thought they were a little overzealous, but what did I know?
Blake finished her search, giving me a severe nod when she finished. “All clear, Ms. Karlsson. We’ll be right outside if you need anything.”
I heard the door click shut behind me. I dropped my purse somewhere on the floor as I made my way to the windows. I noted absently that the office decor didn’t have the Justin touch. The mood of the office was all old-fashioned New York, with an antique desk and ancient hardwood flooring. The chair behind the desk was antique brown leather, as well as the couch. Even the rugs had an old money feel. It was so uncharacteristic for Justin that I stood pondering it for a long time, letting the strange decor distract me.
When that grew tiresome, I moved to the window, looking sightlessly at the spectacular view of Manhattan.
I had no idea how long I stood there like a statue before I heard the door open and then close behind me. The click of a lock being engaged was unnaturally loud in the quiet as death silence of the room.
“Turn around and look at me,” Justin said after a long moment, his voice low and rough.
It was insane, it was unreasonable, it was self-destructive…and masochistic, but I grew wet at the sound of that violence-roughened voice.
I turned around.
CHAPTER THREE
Mr. Sadistic
I studied him for a long time, my legs trembling as I took him in. I leaned back against the window for support.
His suit jacket was missing, his tie askew. The sleeves of his white dress shirt were rolled up. Rather messily, too, at least for him. I saw one lone drop of blood on his collar. I studied his face, then his arms. His knuckles looked a little swollen, his fists clenched, but his face was untouched.
“He was a grown man who had insulted the most important person in my life. The most precious thing in my world. Twice. Wipe that f**king scared look off your face. I would never punch you, never attack you without restraint. But I will punish you.” As he spoke, he began to unbutton his shirt, pulling it free of his beige slacks. His erection was outlined heavily against that pale fabric.
I licked numb lips. “For what?��
“For that look. For that lack of trust. For leaving me for days, whatever the f**king reason. And you were late.”
He strode to me, shirtless and impossibly beautiful, his stark muscles working along his perfect golden skin with every step. I watched my name, etched in crimson on his chest, as he moved closer to me.
His heavy hand fell to my nape. He pushed me slowly to the desk with just that contact. He pressed me, firmly but gradually, until the front of my torso was flush against the top of his desk, my hipbones digging into the edge. His hands moved up under my dress with no hesitation, gripping my lacy thong and pulling it down my legs with one smooth motion. He touched one ankle. “Lift,” he ordered curtly.
I lifted my foot. He repeated the process on the other leg.
His fingers moved against my back, unclasping my bra through the silk of my dress, as only someone experienced with that process could be. He worked it off me swiftly, leaving my dress intact.
He flipped the silky skirt of my dress up over my hips, leaving my ass and sex bare for his perusal. He stood silently at my back for a long time. I squirmed.
“Close your eyes,” he ordered.
I obeyed.
I heard him stride away. A door to my left opened, then closed. I could hear my own breath panting out of me. I was in a state.
I heard him approach me again long minutes later. He wasn’t trying to be quiet.
“Grip the edge of the desk,” he ordered.
I gripped.
“Anything to say?” he asked me coldly.
I didn’t know where to begin, didn’t know what he wanted, but I had to try. “I’m sorry, Mr. Cavendish.”
“What are you sorry for?”
“For all of it. For leaving you for days, whatever the reason. For being late. Please…”
He struck, harsh bristles striking against my backside. I wriggled. It smarted, but didn’t precisely hurt. It was like being whipped with very thick hair. That was perhaps why he didn’t hold back, striking again and again without pause. I shifted against the desk, moaning.
He pressed a hard hand to the small of my back, holding me immobile while he worked me over. He spread the whips over my butt and thighs liberally. This went on for endless moments while I writhed.
Abruptly, he stopped. I could hear his harsh breath.
“Do you like the horse-hair flogger?” he asked.
I made a little humming noise in my throat. “I do, Mr. Cavendish.”
“That was what would be considered a warm-up, Selena. Do you know what that means?”
I shook my head. “No, Mr. Cavendish.”
He moved into me, pressing his heavy, trouser-clad erection flush into my sex and leaning down heavily against my back. He breathed his next words into my ear. “Open your eyes.”
I did, getting only a sideways view of the desk that I was sprawled against, since Justin was on my back. He laid a heavy black and blue object there. I couldn’t understand what I was seeing at first.
It looked almost like a bouquet of flowers, yet not…
Heavy, dyed leather was shaped beautifully into blue roses on the ends of thick black leather tails.
I licked my lips, suddenly more nervous and scared. There were a dozen of the ominous looking buds.
Justin brought the stiff leather handle of the torture device up to my cheek, and I watched those heavy flowers drag across the desk as the flogger moved. He traced my cheek.
“The horse-hair flogger was a warm-up,” he repeated, “and what that means is that I have plans for you, Selena, and the pain hasn’t even begun.”
I took unsteady breaths, then stiffened as I heard the unmistakable sound of a zipper.
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