#followup after knee replacement

[venomwrites]

CaitVi but involve Jinx?

Spoilers for 2x08

Kind of a followup to Caitlyn cleaning VI up but it's not necessary to read that first

Caitlyn’s body moves without consent as she rides the elevator down. 

She has to do something to make this better. Something for Vi. She has been able to tell herself all kinds of lies with Vi’s absence. Probably with her time before. No, before she just listened to Vi’s bullshit. Because Vi wanted to make he happy. 

There is one thing Vi cares about. 

“I’ll take that,” she says, picking up the tray of food. 

Jinx looks small in the cell. 

Small in the same way Caitlyn saw when they first laid eyes on each other after the flare. She hasn’t since. Caitlyn is intimately familiar with the damage small objects can do. She tells herself she is not fooled by the small, curled up creature who is sobbing into her knees. The stupor that had her listlessly following them has eased. Caitlyn knows this part. Now the grief has dug in its claws. 

Your blood in her veins

Why do you sound like her?

“You sister survived surgery,” she says, unable to listen to the small sounds Jinx is making, “she’s resting.”

“Vi’s alive?” Jinx croaks. 

“Yes,” Caitlyn says. She could throw the food at the door and say nothing more. But she thinks of Vi just laying there and how furious she would be, “she isn’t out of the woods but the doctors don’t think she’s in any immediate danger.”

Jinx wipes at her face messily. Just that movement has Caitlyn jerking back, nearly spilling the water on the tray. She is better than this. Better than the memory of those ultraviolet eyes staring at her from her own bathroom mirror. 

“Did you see her?” Jinx questions. 

For a moment it’s Vi looking back at her from that cell. Where did you get these. Caitlyn tries to remember if they had the same eyes before the Shimmer painted JInx’s that color. But the memory of Vi is replaced by the image of her on the hospital bed and finally back to where Jinx is looking at her suspiciously. 

“Yes,” she says. Annoyance pricks at her, “I am not lying,” she snaps. 

Jinx just keeps staring at her and it is unbearable. Caitlyn drops the tray by the food slot and pushes it forward with her foot. She expects Jinx to grab her but she doesn’t. She just watches every move as Caitlyn nudges the tray forward and steps back. Caitlyn cannot take the gaze and walks over to the elevator. 

“Why did you tell me?” Jinx asks. 

“Vi would want you to know.” 

&&&

Vi crashes in the morning. 

It takes three doctors to stabilize her enough before they rush her to surgery again to cut her back open. Find the bleed. Find the swelling. Find what is making her die and relieve it before it can put her down for good. 

Caitlyn can only watch as they swarm over her. 

She’s powerless. 

“She had another surgery,” she tells Jinx. Jinx’s fingertips pause their listless drawing, “She’s alive.”

“She’s not getting better,” Jinx says. 

“That’s not what the doctors say,” Caitlyn shoots back. Jinx scoffs something that sounds suspiciously like Topsider and Caitlyn sees red, “what would you know?! You haven’t been around!”

Jinx lays her head on her knees and shifts enough to lock eyes with her. Caitlyn hates the appraising look in her eyes. She told everyone Jinx was dangerous. Vi always mentioned how smart she was. The bars of the cell are a cold comfort as Caitlyn gets the distinct impression Jinx is here only because she wants to be. 

“You talkin to me or yourself?” She asks. 

The desire to kill her rears up again and immediately gets overwhelmed by the guilt. Jinx is right. Worse, she knows she is right. Who is she to speak about Vi’s state in any sense but the medical one. It’s not just her new, urgent wounds. It’s her half healed ones too. Infected cuts, a fungal infection, vitamin deficiencies, concerning liver values—Vi has been doing everything but taking care of herself. And that, Caitlyn knows, is her fault. 

“I’m telling you what the doctors have said because Vi would want you to know,” Caitlyn says, trying to reach for the voice that puts obedience into people’s hearts, “That is the only reason I’m here. Not to talk to you.”

Jinx looks as though she is going to say something further. But then she looks back down at the floor. Her fingers resume their drawing. Caitlyn wants to remind her she can have her killed with a snap of her fingers. She has all of the power here. 

But then she thinks of Vi with the paddles pressed to her chest.

She has no power when it really counts. 

&&&&

“You say you were out of your mind when we were walking back,” Jinx says, “were you when you kissed her?”

It’s sometimes the bitterest pill to swallow. She can say she was not in her right mind. Dismiss her actions as those of a woman mad with grief. But she wanted to kiss Vi. She wanted to kiss her for so long. To feel the cut in Vi’s lips against her own, to feel what it felt like to have Vi’s arms around her. Not out of pity but out of desire. And they were, they were around her and then Caitlyn had to go and ruin everything. 

“Do you love her?” 

The words make her freeze. 

Jinx waits until she is crouched in front of the cell with the tray to ask. Vi is alive, healing. Caitlyn tells herself it’s security that drives her down here to deliver the tray. It’s been a hard day so she lets herself have the excuse. 

“Why would I answer that?” Caitlyn demands, “why would I talk about my feelings with you?”

Jinx considers her. 

“You keep coming down here,” she points out, “you didn’t even say if Vi had surgery today.” 

Caitlyn strongly dislikes being called out. But Jinx is not wrong. She does keep coming down here. She doesn’t even tell herself it’s because she’s concerned about someone poisoning Jinx. She barely touches the food except when she’s threatened with force feedings. 

“I want to know if there’s a person in you,” she says. 

“No,” Jinx replies. 

“No?” 

“She chose me,” Jinx says, “you’re trying to figure out why because you hate me.” 

Anger surges through her.

“You destroyed the Undercity and killed my mother! Of course I hate you!” Caitlyn shouts. 

The anger is blinding, but it’s unsatisfied. It doesn’t feel good to shout at this broken creature. She can cling to things like the law and intent all she wants. The fact is if Jinx was from a respectable family in Piltover a judge would call her insane and send her for treatment. 

“I kidnapped you.”

“What?” She looks at her.

“If we’re listing my crimes. I kidnapped you,” she draws on the ground, “I blew up my dad—“ her face tightens, “there are others,” she looks at Caitlyn, “Vi still chose me.” 

She’s back in that temple screaming at Vi. Hitting her. Leaving her. Like everyone leaves her. 

“Yes, alright. I hate that she chose you,” Caitlyn says before she can properly think. Jinx looks at her. Caitlyn doesn’t want to be here confessing things. But Vi is slowly dying up there. And Caitlyn cannot confess to her, “you’ve caused so much pain.”

“But she loves me,” Jinx says, “I was happy when she chose me but then I saw how unhappy she was without you,” Caitlyn feels sick, “she didn’t choose me completely. She chose you too. It just wasn’t enough for you. But she does love you.” 

Caitlyn presses her back against the wall. Somewhere she surely knew what Jinx is saying. Which means she’s right. It wasn’t enough. Vi never chooses anything in half measures and the fact she chose this to try it out—it stings. It feels like a betrayal. It isn’t and Caitlyn hates that she knows that and her heart doesn’t care. 

“Everything she did, she did it for you,” Jinx continues, “that’s what Vi does. She’ll go to the ends of the earth for the people she loves,” her eyes peer at Caitlyn’s through a mess of blue hair, “it’s hard to be loved like that.”

Caitlyn feels her throat go tight but she shoves the feeling back. 

They both know Jinx is right. 

&&&&

“It’s an eating day,” Caitlyn announces as she pushes the tray through the slot. Jinx gives her an annoyed look, “it’s been two days. You know what will happen.”

Jinx sighs and picks up the sandwich. On days when she eats her energy perks back. She’s more talkative, more alert. Caitlyn likes those days because it is much easier to hate her on them. She looks down at the water Jinx has used to paint things. Much to her shock, she recognizes something.

“Is that Jayce’s old studio?”

“No,” Jinx says, “that’s just some guy we robbed,” her brows knit together, “when everything went wrong.”

“When you blew it up!” Caitlyn says. Jinx pauses and for the first time looks intrigued, “I was there!”

“You were?”

“Yes! The door was jammed. We couldn’t open it,” her mind is spinning, “you—Vi was there?” Jinx nods slowly. Caitlyn tries to think back to that hallway. She remembers the sounds of people scrambling and the muttered voices, “I dropped something.”

“So did I,” Jinx laments, “after we heard you.”

“You heard me,” Caitlyn repeats. 

Jinx gives her a halfhearted annoyed look. Caitlyn knows she’s repeating things but she cannot help it. Vi was on the other side of that door. She presses her fingertips to her lips. Tries to imagine what Vi may have looked like at that age. Her stomach twists when she realizes the rocket Jinx fired at her mother was not the only time she tried to blow up someone Caitlyn loved. The familiar anger is acidic in her mouth but it’s more vinegar than bile. 

Because Vi was there too. 

And slowly Caitlyn is realizing that may matter more. 

&&&&

The day Vi starts to wake up is the worst day of Caitlyn’s life. 

She knows it does not happen all at once. It’s a gradual process. But it’s hell. She cannot kick the doctors out. She does not know what to do. She can only watch as they remove tubes and try to cajole a response from Vi. Vi struggles and makes the most horrible sounds that cut through Caitlyn’s defenses. It hurts so much to see she practically flees down to Jinx’s cell. 

“What happened?” Jinx is instantly at the bars.

“She’s waking up,” Caitlyn chokes out. 

“Okay? Why do you look like that?” Jinx questions, “Is she okay?” 

“She’s fine, she’s in pain,” she says. Jinx rolls her eyes like Caitlyn has just said the stupidest thing she’s ever heard. Maybe it is. Vi is always in some kind of pain, “I don’t like seeing her in pain.” 

“Me neither but you look wrecked,” Jinx observes. 

“I—“ Caitlyn stops. Collects herself. Jinx sighs and shakes her head. 

“You’re not going to do anything about it.”

“That’s not true!”

“You think when she wakes up its gonna be sunshine and roses?” She shakes her head, “Vi’s going to yell at you and scare you off. Just don’t hit her this time she’s still healing.” 

“How dare you!” Caitlyn glares. 

“I’m not the one who hit her,” she says. 

Caitlyn can scarcely believe her ears. Jinx has done so much worse. Nearly killed her more times than she can count. Caitlyn knows she has made terrible mistakes but this is different. Surely it is different. They are not comparable. 

You sound like her

 Only one of them flooded the Undercity with drugs. 

You sound like her

Hurt Vi

You sound like her

It’s her blood in your veins!

Caitlyn’s back hits the wall. 

“You sound like her,” the words slip out of her mouth, “that’s why I’m here. You sound like her.”

Jinx moves over and places herself in the corner closest to Caitlyn. It’s only a wall that separates them. In another world perhaps it is her in the cell and Jinx is the one who prevents all of this. Maybe then Vi gets to be happy. 

“You love her, don’t you?”

Caitlyn nods, though she knows Jinx cannot see her. She cannot say those words to her first. No matter how human she has become as they both wait for Vi to wake up. 

“What if she chooses me again?” Jinx asks. 

“I don’t know,” Caitlyn says.

“Will you still love her?”

Caitlyn wishes this was not a real question. Then she feels like a fool for realizing it will always be a facet of whatever it is between them. It is Jinx’s blood flowing through her veins. And Caitlyn has reflected her actions in every scream of grief. They have both brought Vi to this place. 

“Yes,” Caitlyn whispers. 

“What if you mess it up again?” Jinx asks. 

“I’m a Kiramman,” Caitlyn snaps, “we don’t fail.” 

Something sets in Jinx’s eyes. She considers Caitlyn for a long moment and then gets to her feet. 

“I’m not going to talk to you anymore,” Jinx says and walks to the far corner. “Next time you come down here it should be to kill me,” she says. 

&&&

Vi wakes up properly. 

And everything changes. 

[mousy-nona]

I didn't send the initial prompt so I hope this is allowed, but could I request a followup to the story where Lucifer gets addicted to Alastor's blood? One where he finally gets that taste he's been so desperately craving, whether through charm or persistence or a trade of some sort?

Part 1 here.

Lucifer tried everything. He tried meditation. He tried stuffing his face with so much cake his waistband grew three sizes (he later transfigured it away, so no one would ask him Concerned Questions). He even went on vacation to the Lust Ring for a while, but there were only so many sex jokes a person could take before they started seeing penises and boobs everywhere.

The whole time he was there, he kept thinking about the forbidden fruit coursing through Alastor’s veins. And when he was done lusting after Alastor’s blood, he would think about Alastor in general. Alastor would hate this, he thought, bored out of his mind while a cow devil was milked dry in front of him. Alastor would hate that, he thought, as Ozzie and his partner treated him to a very graphic display of affection that left his face redder than a tomato. When Ozzie started rolling out the really premium shows, Lucifer decided it was high time for him to go.

By that time, the obsession had grown to the point where he was nearly deafened by it, the constant refrain of AlastorthisAlastorthatAlastorAlastorAlastor –

Then he stepped out of his golden portal, and a tall figure sitting in an armchair by the fire turned around and the voice went silent.

Alastor barely looked up, too busy petting KeeKee and looking like the world’s best Bond villain to give him the time of day. 

“Ah, you’re back.”

When had that radio static started sounding like home? “Did y’all miss me?” He glanced around, deflating a little at the empty sitting room. “Where is everyone?”

“Busy with any number of far more important matters, I’m sure,” Alastor drawled. 

“It’s good to see you too, asshole,” Lucifer grumbled. The brief moment of homecoming faded, replaced by that permanent feeling of annoyance that he always felt around Alastor. He had started stomping upstairs when the shadows by the top of the stairs shifted, crinkled. Then Alastor was there, blocking his way. 

“I see your Majesty has his tiny knickers in a twist,” he commented, as if that wasn’t a totally inappropriate to say to the biblical source of all evil. 

Lucifer’s jaw nearly dropped to the floor. “Excuse me?” 

“I wouldn’t bother trying to deny it if I were you,” Alastor mentioned. “That would be quite an insult to my intelligence. You’ve been in a foul mood for weeks. The whole hotel has noticed it. You’ve been dragging that silly cane all over the place, something you only do when you're upset.” A flash of green lit up Alastor’s wide smile. He looked positively ghoulish, but Lucifer was still stuck on his comment about his cane. I drag it when I’m sad? Since when? And why did he notice? “If it’s bothering you so much, why not share the load?”

“You want me to…tell you my problems? What is this, storytime?” Lucifer scoffed. 

“Perhaps I could lend you my assistance,” he purred. “For a price, of course.” 

Lucifer rolled his eyes. “Now you’re insulting my intelligence.” With a flick of his hand, another portal appeared on the stairs, blocking Alastor from view. The demon was oddly perceptive. He didn’t want him to see just how close he was to falling to his knees and blubbering yes please just a sip, just one more taste. 

(Lillith had always called him a drama queen. Maybe she’d had a point.)

The portal didn’t block the sound of Alastor’s voice, more’s the pity. “Is this about the little scratch you gave me a few weeks ago?” 

Lucifer stilled. The portal wavered, guttered, and went out, leaving the two of them staring at each other.

“How–?” He stammered. 

Alastor’s grin was triumphant. “How many times must I say it? Never underestimate my intelligence. So am I correct?”

Lucifer didn’t respond, which was answer enough. Alastor sniffed. 

“In that case, I believe I have an answer to your problems.” 

What? Was he offering what Lucifer thought he was offering? “And what could that possibly be?”

“Quid pro quo, my dear. You get some of my blood, and I get some of yours.” 

“Fine,” Lucifer gestured him over impatiently. “Come here and bite me –” 

“Not like that.” 

Alastor raised a small glass vial. His smile would have made a crocodile jealous. “I told you, just a little bit of blood. I never said to drink.” 

Alastor eyes flashed into dials and the darkness was split by a lazer of green, then red – a literal red flag. The biggest STOP HERE, DO NOT PASS GO, DO NOT COLLECT $200 Lucifer had ever seen. 

But his mouth was so dry. He could barely think past how large his tongue had grown. Besides, he was the king of hell. The original sin. What harm could it do to let Alastor have a little bit of his blood? 

A lot, the rational part of his brain whispered. This is Alastor we’re talking about. But the rational part of his brain had grown rather quiet around the Crusades, and he’d lost a good chunk of it by World War II. 

Charlie said he was reckless. She didn’t know the half of it. 

“Fine,” Lucifer said. “But you only get to take my blood once. And I can drink from you when I want.”

Alastor thought for a moment, then his lips moved. 

Deal.

The word disappeared in the cra-a-ack of green lightning that struck around them like fireworks. He started to roll up his sleeves, but Lucifer was too quick for him. He flew up the steps and smashed into Alastor with such force he sent them spiraling into the wall. Alastor gasped, but before he could protest, Lucifer had torn the fabric of his shirt and slashed a deep groove into the cool skin of his neck. 

Finally, that sweet blood flowed onto his tongue. He moaned, his lids fluttering as he drank greedily. Big mouthfuls at a time. 

Sin. Death. Apples. Smoke and sugar. The taste was indescribable, and in that moment, Lucifer thought he could have promised Alastor his whole kingdom, and it would have been a fair trade. 

Alastor, for his part, stayed dutifully still, even when Lucifer licked off the blood that had splattered onto Alastor’s collarbone and the tip of his chin, unwilling to let even a drop of it go to waste.

It took a while, but Lucifer finally leaned back with a groan, his lips smeared with blood like it was cherry chapstick. 

“Satisfied?” Alastor muttered. Lucifer made an incoherent sound of joy. 

“Good. I am as well.” Alastor raised a completely full vial of golden blood. When had he taken it? “I believe it was a satisfactory deal for both parties.”

Then he smiled in a way that made Lucifer's skin prickle. 

Heavenly Father, what have I done? 

[navmed1981]

What to expect after Total knee replacement - Detailed Overview of the recovery process

What to expect after Total knee replacement – Detailed Overview of the recovery process

#Totalkneearthroplasty #kneereplacement #kneereplacementrecovery What to expect after Total knee replacement – Detailed Overview of the recovery process This video explains recovery from total knee replacement. We go through what the patients can expect in terms of recovery after total knee replacement surgery. The usual recovery period is about three months in total. Day zero is the day of…

[illfoandillfie]

Impersonal

As promised, here’s the smutty followup to yesterday’s blurb! This is the fifth post of seven in my Platonically themed event. Again, it’s not really been edited because it’s late and I’m very tired but alas, thats how it goes. 

Words: 2,278

Warning: some vague dom/sub dynamic stuff with a more dom Ben, spanking, it’s P in V sex but theres a lot of talk about butts. Also they’re still dorks. 

It had been a nice day. You and Ben had gone out with a few friends, just a little picnic in the park to catch up with everyone. If you’d been at all worried about publicly being together on a no romo day, then it was for nothing. As much as everyone there considered you and Ben to be an item, it mostly went ignored, aside from a couple of questions about how you’d gone living together so far. But having such a big lunch, everyone having brought something to share, neither of you were especially hungry at dinner time. Ben whipped up a pot of butted noodles for you to pick at as you watched TV but it was soon set aside as you shifted to lean against the arm rest with your legs stretched out to lay over Ben’s thighs. Each of you were engrossed in your phones more than the quiz show he’d flicked on, occasionally sharing something you saw or read.  

You had opened tumblr and were scrolling through your dash, pausing to read longer bits here and there but mostly just liking images and reblogging memes. Until you hit a patch of not safe for work content. One of the porn blogs you’d long since forgotten you’d followed had hit a rare patch of activity, every second post one of theirs. Those posts you paid a little more attention to, especially when videos and explicit images were involved since you knew they were likely to be taken down soon and you didn’t want to miss out on seeing something hot. Unfortunately your headphones were in another room so you weren’t game to turn the sound on for any of the videos but the visuals and erotic comments below were enough to make you feel as if the room as heated up. You could feel yourself getting wetter at each new post but couldn’t seem to stop looking at them.  

A particularly good video of a sloppy blowjob made you clench your thighs together, your foot rubbing against Ben’s thigh as a result. His palm came to rest on the top of your foot, rubbing it soothingly, though his attention was still elsewhere. In fact, his gaze didn’t shift until a little later when you were looking at a very hot gifset of a woman on all fours, crying as she was pounded from behind. He cleared his throat. You jolted a little at the sound and tried not to look too guilty as you met his eye.   “You okay?” “Mmhmm,” His eyes travelled over you from the lip between your teeth to your tightly pressed thighs and your fingers wrapped firmly around the phone.   “I don’t mean to interrupt,” he said, clearly meaning to do exactly that, “but ummmm, are you watching porn right now?” “No,” you answered too quickly. “Hey, you don’t have to hide it if you are, go nuts. I’m just a little curious about what’s turned you on so much you’re practically panting. And can I help?” “I’m not watching anything. It’s just some gifs I saw.” “Well I think QPR law states you have to show me or you’d be a big meanie.” You chuckled and handed the phone to Ben, a little curious about how he’d react.   Ben watched the gifs through a couple of times before nodding, “Yeah, that’s uhhh, that’s pretty hot,” he rubbed your foot again as he kept watching the looped footage. “Are you turned on?” “Yeah, a bit,” “Hmmm, same.” “Should we-” “Do you wanna-” You spoke at the same time and then both laughed a little as you simultaneously agreed, “Yeah.” Immediately you swung your legs around intending to walk towards the bedroom and Ben followed for about two steps before he stopped suddenly, “Wait. This is a no romo day, right? Do you still feel anti-romance?” “Yes and yeah I think so. Why?” Ben shrugged, “I don’t think we’ve ever had sex on a no romo day so...how does it work?” “Oh, good point. Well.” you wanted to keep it brief, already worked up and wanting to move to the fun part, “I think it’s probably best if we keep it on kind of the rougher side, a little impersonal even. Could you maybe hit it from behind? I’m not really sure eye contact and all that stuff would be as fun for me right now.” “No need to ask twice. My hot partner wants me to look at her gorgeous arse while I fuck her? Yeah definitely into that.” “Jesus I’d forgotten you’re an arse man.” It was true too. As much as Ben might prefer ass to tits he also enjoyed the visual stimulation of watching you – seeing the pleasure on your face, watching your body react to his. So, while doggy style was a regular position for you, variations of missionary and cowgirl were probably a little more frequent. Which was wonderful, except not what you needed right then. Ben responded by poking his tongue out you but he seemed quite as eager to move things along, “So rough doggy then? Can I spank you?” “You’d be into that?” He shrugged, “I know we haven’t really done anything kinky yet but yeah, I enjoy spanking. I mean...watching an arse jiggle after it’s hit is incredibly hot.” You giggled, “spanking is very okay then. You could be a little mean too if you wanted, maybe calling me a degrading name to get at that impersonal thing. Slut maybe.” He hummed uncertainly, “I can try it if you really want but I gotta admit I’m not as into degrading stuff as I am spanking.” “It’s fine if you don’t, whatever works. Honestly, I’m already super horny so just do whatever you’re comfortable with and don’t get too gentle or loving with it, and I’ll be happy.” “I can definitely do rough for you. For instance,” You gasped as Ben grasped your hips and turned you around, positioning you in front of the arm of the couch before he pushed you to bend over it. It was a surprise considering Ben’s typical nature. He had his controlling or domineering moments but generally seemed happiest when he was showering you in affection or letting you take charge. Adding to the surprise was the way he tugged your pants down to your knees and began to touch you through your underwear. It made you squirm, trying to find a little more friction, but he only gave you a quick spank. Not overly hard but it didn’t have to be to make you feel tingly. Just knowing Ben was capable of an action like that was hot enough. All the same he pulled your knickers down too and ran his fingers through your folds.   “Wow, okay. You meant it when you said you were horny. Pretty wet already.” “No shit Sherlock. You know I don’t need lines like that that get you interested in fucking me.” He gave you another slap for your insolence.   “Better get you stretched out then, hadn’t we?” You felt two of Ben’s fingers rest against your entrance and expected to feel them sink into you too. But it didn’t happen.   “What’s the hold up, Tiger? Ow,” the spank had been a little harder than the last.   “If you want them so bad, do it yourself.” Your breath caught as you realised what he meant and you shifted your hips back, levering yourself against the arm of the couch, until you felt his fingers penetrate you.   “That’s it Kitten. You’re too horny to wait, aren’t you? God you’ve got such a pretty arse. Giving me the best view right now. Your needy cunt soaking my fingers while your arse,” he hit you again, “jiggles. It’s making me so hard.” You whined, unable to find a better response, and rocked back against his fingers, slowly fucking yourself on them.   He let you go on like that for a little while, happy to listen to your hitched breaths and needy sighs as you got a little of what you needed. But then he pulled his fingers from you. You let out a disappointed whimper, “Ben, c’mon,” “I’m so hard from watching you be so desperate. Just gotta get my pants off. But you can play with yourself for me, can’t you?” You nodded and shifted so you could drop your fingers to your pussy. Ben gave your arse another slap, “Not what I meant Kitten. Play with your arse.” Startled by the low growl in his voice you quickly complied, leaning on the couch as your brought both hands up to grab your arse cheeks, squeezing them and pulling them apart to better show off your holes.” “That’s very good, Kitten. Spank yourself.” It wasn’t the same as when Ben spanked you since you knew what was coming and the position didn’t allow you to get as much force into your hits as he could. But it was definitely arousing and it definitely seemed to work for Ben. You’d barely registered the sound of his pants dropping before he was sliding into your wet and waiting cunt.   “I can take it from here,” Ben’s hands replaced yours, groping your arse as you dropped your arms back to the couch, though you felt it was useless to try and prop yourself up on them. It would only be a matter of time before you collapsed entirely.  

At first he kept the pace slower, letting you adjust to him, though each thrust was forceful, just as you’d asked it to be. But gradually Ben sped up, hands still playing with your cheeks, sometimes grabbing and sometimes spanking them. He tried to say more about how hot it was to take you like that but his own breath was escaping him as the words seemed to be. So he let his body talk for him as he pounded your cunt and dug his fingers into your flesh.   And then he pulled out.   You were on the verge of asking him who the fuck he thought he was when he said, “one second. Just want to try something.” and then, remembering he was meant to be acting mean, added, “And you just want me to keep fucking you, so you’re not going to complain.” In a disgruntled daze you let Ben help you up onto the back of the couch so that one leg was bent to lean against the arm he’d just had you bent over and the other dangled towards the floor. It took a little more adjustment before Ben was happy. First pulling you back towards him and the corner of the couch, and then pressing you to lean forward so your hips were raised and he could better access your pussy. You had to grab onto the back of the couch for support, digging your fingertips into the leather as Ben resumed fucking you.   The angle had changed a little and the position was slightly more awkward to maintain but it was worth it for the way your clit rubbed against the smooth leather, leaving a trail of wetness behind. Each thrust rocked your hips in such a way that you quickly found yourself getting close to release.

That, however, seemed to be Ben’s plan as he began telling you how good you were going to make him feel when he made you cum. “I know you’re close Kitten. So just cum. I want to feel your cunt on me when you do.” He lay another few spanks to your arse cheeks and that tipped you over into your orgasm.   But Ben didn’t stop.   “I th-think you can do bett-er than that,” he grit out as you clenched around him and he seemed to thrust twice as hard as he had before, “You were so,”   You grunted as he plowed into you. “So desperate before. So you can cum better than that. Right kitten?” You nodded and gasped out a, “Yes” as your arms shook with how hard Ben was fucking you.   But he didn’t relent. He kept going until he felt you tighten again and heard you moan, nearly sobbing as relief flooded your system.   That seemed to be enough for Ben and he let himself go too, holding your hip tightly as he pressed deep into you.  

Ben leaned his forehead against your back as he tried to regain his regular breathing rate and gave you a quick kiss there before he righted himself and helped you to dismount the couch. The evidence of your orgasms was still smeared across the leather but neither of you paid it any attention.   “Sorry I never called you a slut or anything,” Ben said with a slightly self-conscious chuckle, avoiding your eye as he hitched his pants back into place. “I just like Kitten better.” “Don’t be,” you said mirroring his actions to looking at him, “Kitten worked perfectly. Also, that was really good. Maybe you could be rough and mean more often?” “The double orgasm was a pretty good indication that it worked for you,” “Of shut up, I was being serious. It was really hot.” “Yes but I like teasing you, remember,” “Prick.” “That hurts,” he said with a fake gasp and a hand against his chest, “Keep talking like that and I’ll have to spank you again,” “Ha ha, very funny. Tease me all you want but we both you enjoyed it as much as I did.” “Maybe I did.” he conceded, “but I wasn’t going to hate it when I was watching your arse.” “Alright, you perv. Was there any leftover noodles? Bit peckish now.” “Yeah, in the fridge. Grab me some too would you?”

[novembermurray]

Together

Read on AO3

Rating: Teen (Implied/Referenced Violence Towards Children)

Pairing: Din x Omera

Summary: Hungry for revenge, Xi'an finds where the Mandalorian disappeared to, the lovely wife he settled with and his oh so innocent daughter. All that's left is to wait for him to return, to take from him what he took from her: family. But Xi'an has made one serious miscalculation...

For @mandomeraweek Day 7

“Omera?” Din called, closing the door to the house behind him. The hallway was dim with the last glow of the sunset coming through the curtained windows. He leaned his rifle— a lower powered but serviceable replacement for the Amban Pulse Rifle he had lost— against the wall beside the coat rack. Then he released the seals and took off his helmet, setting it on the side table at the door just for that purpose. It was becoming easier and easier, feeling more and more natural every time he did it; return home, remove the helmet, kiss his wife, kiss his daughter. Less and less he felt the crawling feeling of shame when the cool air hit his skin. Less and less the breath would catch in his lungs with the ghosts of old fears he had left behind.

“Omera? Winta?” He called again, rubbing his hair to unstick it from his scalp. It was stiff with sweat after the long jet-pack flight from town. He was looking forward to a bath and a hot meal. Maybe Omera could even rub the tension of the journey out of his shoulders before they turned in for the night. 

“In the kitchen,” Omera called to him softly from down the hall, something off about her voice. A faint light, probably just the coals of the cooking fire, showed under the curtain that covered that doorway. Strange for her to work in such poor light, Din thought, frowning, and followed the sound. 

“Is something wrong?” he asked, pushing aside the curtain and stepping in. Omera was standing stiff before the fire, facing him with pain on her face and shining tracks of tears on her cheeks. But it was the movement just behind her legs, half hidden in shadows and her skirts that made him freeze.

“AH!” Omera cried out. Something shoved her hard from behind, knocking her to her hands and knees.

“Omera!” Din went for his blaster on instinct. 

A blood-chillingly familiar voice tutted: “Ah-ah-ah!” 

A lithe, violet-skinned figure stood up from where she had been crouched behind Omera. She clutched Winta’s smaller body to her chest with whipcord strong arms. Two long lekku swung behind her and she grinned with sharp canine teeth. She kept Winta held up by a hand around the human child’s waist and another over the little girl’s chest allowing the captor to keep a small, wicked looking vibroblade up against the child’s neck. Winta squirmed faintly and trembled with fear, her brown eyes wide and darting frantically between her mother on the floor and her adopted father in the doorway. She bit her lip and whimpered softly.

“Hello, Mando,” the captor purred, breaking off into a maniacal giggle.

“Xi’an,” Din breathed her name with horror.

“Bet you never thought you’d see  me  again after you left me on that prison ship,” the twi’lek continued. 

Din swallowed visibly, his gaze shifting from his ex-team-mate to Winta, to Omera on the floor, then back to Xi’an. He tensed his grip on the blaster but he wouldn’t raise it. Xi’an held Winta like a shield in front of her, and the vibroblade was expertly positioned in just the way that assured any wrong twitch would be fatal to the little girl. Din couldn’t risk that and Xi’an knew it.

“Drop the gun,” Xi’an ordered him, high voice cracking with mirth. 

Din complied.

“Now kick it over here.” 

Din kicked the gun, watching it skitter across the uneven boards towards the women. He saw Omera’s hand twitch and tense as the weapon came to rest barely an arm’s length away from her. Din had to force himself not to meet his wife’s gaze for confirmation, trusting her to understand without communication.

“Very good,” Xi’an purred. “Oh, but this is even better than good. Look at you!  Look  at you.” 

Din flinched, practically able to feel the sharp eyes raking over every inch of his exposed face. It felt like spiders crawling down from his hairline into his armor, making him want to squirm in front of her, but he held still; he let only his eyes move, from Xi’an to Winta, meeting his daughter’s terrified gaze. It broke his heart to see a new tear roll down her cheek.

“This is so much better than I had hoped, because now I get to watch your face— your real face— as I tear apart your pretty little family.”

“Your grudge is with me,” Din implored her, easing half a step forward. “Just me. Let them go.”

“Oh no!” Xi’an took a step to the side, moving around Omera’s prone form like the other woman was a toppled piece of furniture. “You took  my family  so now… I’m going to take yours.” She held Winta a little tighter and the little girl whined, teeth worrying at her lip. Her panicked eyes darted toward Xi’an, trying to see her captor over her shoulder. The involuntary shift of her body brought the blade a hair closer to the delicate skin of her neck. Din gasped and raised his hands like he could grab across the distance and pull the dangerous weapon away.

Xi’an laughed at the terror that was clear on his bare face, celebrating his anguish.

“Winta,” Din said in a trembling voice, “ad’ika, look at me.” His daughter's eyes snapped back to his, but they were wavering. He pitched his voice low, like he did when he soothed her nightmares. “It’s going to be ok. Everything will be fine, just look at me.”

“Do you hear him?” Xi’an turned to whisper right into the little girl’s ear with a wicked giggle while her eyes remained firmly focused on Din’s. “Do you hear him lying to you? That’s what he is. A liar… a backstabber…”

“Look at me, Winta. It’s ok.”

“Cold-blooded killer… traitor! Did you think you could have this life after all the destruction you’ve left behind?”

“Just focus on me. Just me. You’re gonna be ok.”

“After you betrayed my brother? Then you sent those New Republic dogs after him?” Xi’an spat, trembling with her own rage and taking another step forward. She leaned toward Din to hiss her accusations, the blade in her hand moving just a fraction away from Winta’s skin. “You thought you could have  all this after everything you’ve— “

Omera dove for the blaster on the ground, getting to her knees and swinging the weapon up. Xi’an turned at the sound. Din lunged forward in the same moment, one hand closing around Xi’an’s on the knife hilt and the other grabbing for Winta.

Bzaap!

Xi’an jerked. Din wrenched the blade out of suddenly limp fingers and threw it across the kitchen. He pulled Winta into the circle of his arms, spinning around and shielding her with his body, pressing her face into his shoulder. The little girl let out a yelp, somewhere between a sob and a scream, grabbing at her father’s armor just as desperately as he held her in return.

The twi’lek’s body hit the floor with a resounding thump.

Din looked over his shoulder back at the lifeless eyes and shuddered with relief. And he couldn’t stop shuddering, his whole body shook like he’d run the entire way back from town, his heart pounded in his chest and his lungs couldn’t get enough air.

“Omera?” He looked over at her, scanning her for any injury. She lowered the blaster, holding it out and to her side, angled safely down and away. 

“I’m ok. Winta? Winta, are you alright?” Omera hurried to her daughter’s side and stroked her dark hair, fingers brushing over the back of Din’s gloves where he cradled Winta’s head against his shoulder. 

Winta nodded wordlessly against the beskar breastplate but didn’t loosen her grip on her father a fraction.

Omera breathed a sigh of relief and leaned into Din. She clicked over the blaster’s safety and dropped it on the floor so she could bring both arms around her husband and daughter. Din felt her hand carding through his sweat stiff curls soothingly.

“I— I’m so sorry… I’m so sorry,” Din whispered, turning his face into Omera’s shoulder and letting her warmth and her scent fill his senses. 

“Shhhh!” She whispered to him.

“I’m supposed to protect you,” Din said. “But I brought this danger here. She was right; how can I have this when— “

“No!” Omera said firmly, grabbing his face between her hands and forcing him to look up. He met her shining eyes. There were still tracks of tears down her full cheeks but her stubborn chin was set and her eyes burned with determination. “No, she wasn’t. You do protect us and we protect you. We’re a family; that means we work as a team, together.” 

Wasn’t that what they had agreed? A part of Din’s mind asked. Mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar’tome, mhi me dinui an… One together and one apart, they would share all; together for the good… and the bad… And when he had needed Omera, when the child that depended on them needed them Din had been able to rely on Omera, and Omera on him.

He leaned into the warmth of her hands, feeling his tears sliding between her fingers, and whispered back with a nod, “together.”

--

Fin.

And that’s the end of my week of Mandomera! You can find all the submissions and the followups (some still forthcoming) here: Ember’s Week of Mandomera!

[f0rever15elf]

I Just Need Five Minutes: Part 2 - Second Chance

Part 2 of the Maxwell Lord “I Just Need Five Minutes” series: Part 1 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 (Coming soon)

Pairing: Maxwell Lord x f!reader Rating: G Warnings: Death mention, angst, no beta Word Count: 2,657

Summary: The first meeting was an absolute disaster, so when the phone rings affording you a second chance, you take it without a moment’s hesitation. 

A/N: I really, really like writing flashbacks

Pedro Masterlist |  Ao3

“Please.” Your voice is softer now, staring at him intently. For a moment, no one moves. Neither of you dare even breathe and the weight of the tension in the room is stifling. You can feel the carefully concealed rage radiating off of Maxwell as his eyes bore into you, eyes that are so different from what you use to know. Those eyes dart down to your hand, still depressing the receiver before you slowly pull it away. He replaces the phone, and sits down in his chair.

“Five minutes. Then I’m dragging you out of here by your ankles. Do you understand?” His terse voice sets you on edge, but you nod, rummaging around in your bag.

“I had a feeling you might not remember me.”

~~~~

The estate is so quiet without Mrs. Lord here, moving around and making a fuss of the décor. It had been quieter here since Mr. Lord had passed, but this was completely different. The house is cold and still and...empty. And Maxwell is nowhere to be seen. With a sigh, you continue packing items of the estate; things that you thought Maxwell would appreciate you holding on to and things you had taken a shine to during your younger years.

Moving through the woman’s bedroom, you begin consolidating her jewelry. Nothing in this house was cheap, and you knew it. The idea of an estate manager auctioning all of this off at an obscene price causes bile to bubble in the back of your throat as you carefully pack the heirlooms away. You take pause over a single, delicate necklace. A silver chain with a sapphire heart pendant, rimmed in diamonds. A gentle smile graces your lips as you hold it, letting the chain run between your fingers. It had been a gift from Mr. Lord for their anniversary. You remember the look of surprise on her face when he showed it to her, how happy they had both looked while you and Maxwell watched from your spot in the yard. She never took it off after that day.

You tuck the gorgeous piece into the box of things you elect to keep, moving to finish your rounds.

~~~~

“I see many people, every day. You can’t expect me to remember every ant that comes crawling through my doors, especially if they have nothing to offer me.” Where did all this venom come from, you wonder, trying not to flinch under his words as you pull out velvet box.

“It’s been 18 years, after all.” You give a small smile, still hopeful as you slide the box to him. “Something to jog your memory.” He scoffs as he takes the box, snapping it open. His entire demeanor changes when his eyes land on the necklace inside.

“Where did you get this?” His voice is drawn tight, quiet as the color drains from his face, his eyes not leaving the sapphire necklace.

“Your mother’s estate when I helped to settle it eleven years ago.” Your voice is gentle and soft, like you’re worried that speaking too loud would shatter everything around you. Please, Maxwell. Please remember. “They couldn’t reach you for the settling of personal effects, and she had no other next of kin, so my mother and I took care of it at the request of the estate manager.” Your heart seizes in your chest as you watch him, a cold sweat breaking out as he looks back up at you, a light of recognition barely there snuffed out and replaced with that same controlled rage.

“Where do you get the gall to come here with this?” The snap of the box closing is sharp and causes you to jump as he stands, resting his hands on his desk to lean towards you. When he speaks, it is through clenched teeth, his voice low and dripping with anger. “The audacity to lie your way into my company for an audience, to bring me this bullshit story? You expect me to believe this when I know the estate manager who settled her estate personally? I’ve decided you don’t get your five minutes, I’m ending this meeting now. Get out.” He turns, stalking to the window, the box white-knuckled in his hand.

“Maxwell…”

“I said get out!” You freeze, hand extended for a moment before dropping it to your side.

“Y...Yes, Mr. Lord. Thank you for your time today…” You turn, heels clicking on the marble tiles as you make your way to the doors, pausing before you open then. “If you ever remember...my contact information is on the papers I provided you.” He doesn’t even offer you the decency of a reply as you step out, the door echoing behind you as it closes you off from him once again. Maybe….maybe you were too late.

Behind the gilded doors, Maxwell seethes, trembling in his shoes as he stares out over the city. Who did this girl think she was, to try and pull something like this. He opens the velvet box, looking over the one of a kind necklace nestled gently in the white silk lining. Maxwell had very little to remember his mother by, the estate manager having managed to auction off almost everything without so much as offering to hold anything for him. But that didn’t matter, he had the company to attend to. This was his family’s legacy, and he would be damned if he let it fail. Slowly, he turns to look at the door, the sound of your heels clicking through his office still resonating in his ears. You were an odd one, a bold one. And you reminded him very much of himself. Perhaps...perhaps he could make use of you. He turns, taking his place at his desk before calling for Sam.

“Bring me a draft of a new hire contract, I have an idea.” Sam’s curt ‘yes, sir’ crackles through the receiver as Maxwell sits back. The world drank from his palm, and soon you would too.

You make your way from the building as quickly as you can, handing your visitor’s badge back to the front desk as you stride past while attempting to keep your head held high. The facade only lasts so long, as once you are safely shut into your apartment it crumbles. Sinking to your knees, you wrap your arms around yourself, attempting to provide yourself some sort of comfort as sobs wrack your chest. That had gone nothing like you had expected it to, but now you have no idea how you were going to get through to him. The only thing you find yourself able to think about is how cold and bitter he looked. How closed off he felt as you tried to make it through to him. How...foreign...the man you grew up alongside now felt. You were no stranger to rage and anger, but to see it so concentrated in Maxwell as he started you down like you were some maggot who had dared to crawl before him cut you to the core.

“Mom...what should I do?” you whisper, laying your head back against the door, waiting for the tears to stop. You had to figure out something… You had to.

~~~~~

“If anyone ever gives you a hard time, tell me and I’ll take care of ‘em!” The little blond boy puffs up his chest in an attempt to look big and strong, bringing a giggle from the little girl’s lips.

“You’re like a knight, Maxie!” She giggles, reaching out to ruffle his carefully combed hair, to which he protests loudly.

“That makes you a princess,” he mutters, trying to fix his hair.  Twelve and ten this boy and girl were, and together they felt as if they could take on the universe.

“Your princess!” She exclaims, tackling him in bear hug that sends them both to the ground, rolling in the grass as they laugh. The joys and innocence of youth were untouchable here.

~~~~

Who do you turn to when your supposed knight rips your heart out and stomps on it in front of you? Where do you run to when the only place you want to be sends you away? Where do you go when home no longer feels like home? You have no idea.

Near a week has passed since your disaster with Maxwell, and you have lived them in a borderline daze, going about your day on muscle memory alone. You’ve taken to keeping your TV off, his commercials simply pulling a new wave of tears from you as you are reminded again and again about how far away from you he is now, closed off in his ivory tower. Could you really just give up? As quick as the thought rears its ugly head in your mind, you force it away. That was absurd. Maxwell needed you. Whether he believed it or not, realized it or not, he needed you. He had gotten lost after the death of his father, the man he admired most in this world. Little Maxwell was so much like him, so kind and gentle and genuine. To see what his son had become would have broken the man’s heart into a thousand tiny pieces. And you could not allow that to continue.

Filled with a renewed resolve, you find yourself returning to your computer, mouse hovering over the interns and careers tab for Lord Corp. If plan A didn’t work...it was time for plan B, apply for a job in the company. Lost in deliberation over if this is the right thing to do, the trill of your phone resounding through your home nearly sends you through the ceiling. Taking a breath to steady yourself, you answer.

“This is Sam, with Lord Corp,” the shrill, nasally voice replies. It’s amazing how even over the phone the sound of his voice makes you want to crawl out of your own skin. How he made it to such a high position within the company, you would never understand.

“Oh, yes, hello. What can I do for you?” You fight to keep the surprise out of your voice, honestly not expecting to receive so much as the time of day from Lord Corp ever again, much less a personal call.

“Mr. Lord requests a followup meeting with you. Apparently, you have struck his fancy.” The words drip with malice and disbelief. “He has a proposition for you, and requests you come by the company tomorrow at noon, sharp. Dress requirement is business formal for this meeting, and do not be late.”

“I...see. What is this proposition?”

“He will discuss that with you when you arrive. Mr. Lord is a reserved man. Only the people who need know the details of his decisions, will know the details. See you tomorrow, noon. Don’t forget.” Before you can get out another word, the line goes dead, dial tone sounding in your ear. You pull the phone from your ear, staring at it in disbelief for a few moments before standing to try and slap together your business formal wear. Second chances happen once in a blue moon, you shouldn’t squander this one.

The next day, you find yourself working up the nerve to actually enter the Lord Building. Your heart is racing loud in your ears as you head inside. That same boy at the front desk begins his usual lifeless greeting until he looks up, seeing you, and a little light returns to his eyes. You return his smile as he hands you the visitor’s badge, directing you upstairs again. He wasn’t so bad, you think, he’s going places.

As the doors of the elevator slide open, you fight to hold back an audible groan when Sam is waiting for you, this time dressed in a tacky tan corduroy suit. “Welcome back. Mr. Lord is waiting for you.” His eyes scan the power suit, distaste clear in his eyes as if he wasn’t dressed like the curtains your grandmother use to have in her house before she passed. He turns on his heel, leading you to the door. All the while his pants make that infernal rubbing sound distinct to the cursed fabric. Two raps on the door before he opens it, letting you in and quickly shutting the door behind you.

Maxwell’s back is to you, hands clasped behind him as he looks out over the city. You stay by the door, politely waiting for him to address you first as you fidget under the intense silence. Just when you think you can’t take it anymore, Maxwell speaks. “I have no idea how you got your hands on my mother’s necklace, nor how you knew it was my mother’s to begin with, but I am nothing if not a fair man.” He turns to face you, that fake, salesman smile on his face that makes your blood run cold. “So, I’d like to make you an offer.”

You clear your throat before speaking. “What kind of offer, Mr. Lord?”

“I’m in need of a personal secretary.”

“Don’t you have Sam for that?” You can’t help the distaste in your tone as you say his name, and Maxwell chuckles humorlessly.

“Sam is about as useful as a candle under water. But you,” he shakes his finger, pointing at you as he makes his way around his desk to you. “You have a tenacity I admire. Formulating this story to worm your way into my office, figuring out who this necklace belonged to, cutting me off when I attempted to call security on you.” He stops in front of you, far closer than you would have expected him to place himself, given what you had heard of his stand-offish behavior. The smell of his cologne is overwhelming, his closeness raising the hairs on the back of your neck. He smirks down at you, his smile still dimple-less as he tries to make this sale to you. “I could use that in my company. I could use someone like you.”

You stare up at him, praying he can’t hear the pounding of your heart. The look of how cold and shrewd his eyes are leaves a sour taste in your mouth, but you swallow thickly, nodding. This is your chance. “Given the proper arrangements and compensations, I would be willing to accept the job offer, Mr. Lord.” He nods, that grin still in place as he steps back, returning to his desk.

“Perfect. I’ll have Sam get you set up in the office adjacent to mine.” He gestures to a smaller door off the side of his office. “He’ll go over your paperwork with you to get you on boarded. If anything seems too far from your liking, we can...renegotiate. We’ll have you start today.” Emboldened by the flow of conversation, you stride to the front of his desk, arms crossed. His eyes flick up to you, eyebrow arched as he rights himself, returning your stare. “You’ll be expected to keep the attitude in check, of course.” His voice holds a clear and present danger, one that makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up once more. You realize quickly that supplication to his demeanor would do you no favors.

“If you don’t like my attitude, Mr. Lord, then you need not hire me.” He stares ate you, his face unreadable until a predatory smile creeps its way ever so slowly across his lips before he summons Sam to his office, telling the weasel of a man to get your office ready.

“We’ll be seeing quite a lot of each other in the coming days. I hope you’re a quick learner, for your own sake.”

“Was that a threat, Mr. Lord?” Your brow arches, confidence slowly building as his banter begins to remind you of your younger years. Perhaps some of the boy you once knew is still there. You just needed to find him.

“Absolutely.”

~~~~

Tag lists: Permanent: @ahopelessromanticwritersworld​, @tangledlove27​, @paintballkid711​, @lose-eels​, @adamdrivercouldchokeme​ Maxwell: @knittingqueen13​, @thisisthe-way​, @mrschiltoncat​, @marvel-and-mischief​, @this-cat-is-dea​, @poenariuniverse​

Tag list is ope!  Requests are open!

[galaxywhump]

Low Battery

Trope: Forced to Kneel/Bow Fandom: Original Work

[Masterlist]

[blue for requested, red for completed]

Timeline: set after Burned - followup

Requested by a friend of mine.

cw: modern slavery, food, humiliation, starvation, restraints, creepy/intimate whumper, defiant whumpee, noncon/dubcon touching, torture mention, creepy comfort, vomiting mention.

taglist: @faewhump​ @inky-whump​ @whole-and-apart-and-between​ @slaintetowhump​ @moose-teeth​ @whatwasmyprevioususername​ @procrastinatingsab​ @insanitywishes​ @special-spicy-chicken​ @redstainedsocks​ @garbagewhump​

~~~

Wren whimpers and doubles over when his stomach cramps for the upteenth time - and each time is worse than the last.

He hasn’t eaten in three days. Again.

The longer it goes on for, the harder his struggle to keep fighting is getting; all he can think about anymore is the constant hunger, the dizziness accompanying it, the way he keeps shivering.

He’s far from begging Daniel for food - or so he keeps convincing himself - but maybe, just maybe, he could ask for some warmer clothes at least; there are goosebumps on his arms, and with his hands cuffed behind his back he can’t even hug himself for the tiniest bit of warmth. And Daniel, being the asshole he is, keeps teasing him about it, cracking jokes, laughing when he shakes with each violent tremble or bolt of pain, forcing him to sit nearby when he’s cooking or eating, looking at him expectantly, as if waiting for him to beg, to break down.

He’s never going to - but if Daniel made him sing again in exchange for a single bite of food, he’s painfully aware he wouldn’t hesitate for a second.

He hears footsteps and forces himself to sit up straight and blink away tears, to hide his moment of weakness. He closes his eyes as the door to the closet opens to avoid getting blinded by the sudden return of light. The darkness is a curse - he can’t see what Daniel is going to do, whether he’s holding something that’s going to be used on him; these couple of seconds are when he’s most vulnerable and anxious.

He’s almost grateful when he feels Daniel’s grip on his hair and he’s dragged out of the closet - at least he’s not forced to get up on his own.

I’m fucking pathetic, he thinks, but the thought quickly fades, replaced by the constant chorus of I’m fucking hungry.

“You look like shit, kid,” Daniel says, and Wren growls, wincing as he opens his eyes.

“And whose fucking fault is that,” he mutters. His bandaged feet hurt, a prickling pain as he stumbles along, but that too pales in comparison with starvation.

There’s food on the table, and that in itself is enough to bring him close to tears. One plate. Of course. He expects to be sat down on the opposite chair or the couch, as he always is, but instead Daniel drags him to the end of the table with the plate, and his heart flutters with hope.

Daniel lets go of his hair and he can’t help but panic, expecting his body to fail him; he manages to stay on his feet, shuddering, doing his best to keep his tired eyes on Daniel, who sits down and points his finger at the floor.

“Kneel.”

He blinks; his throat squeezes painfully, humiliation already burning through him like acid. Sitting opposite of Daniel is bad enough, but kneeling is a whole other kind of torture, one that is a bitter reminder that he’s not just a captive - he’s a slave, expected to follow orders.

“Kneel, Wren.”

He hates being called a kid, but he hates the way Daniel says his name, a patient, gentle reprimand, even more.

“Why?” he snarls, even though he wants nothing more than to be back on the floor, letting his body rest. Defying Daniel is more of a habit at this point, but it’s nice to pretend.

Daniel sighs.

“Because you look tired, and because it’s an order.”

“As if you care if I’m tired.”

“Then you can just focus on the ‘order’ part.” He smiles and clicks his fingers. “On your knees.”

He obeys, stifling a sigh of relief when he no longer has to keep his body upright - and flinches when Daniel gently pats his head and the touch lingers on his hair for a moment.

“Good boy.”

“Shut the fuck up.” He turns his burning face away.

At least he won’t see Daniel eating from his spot on the floor. He breathes through his mouth and it does a sufficient job at blocking the smell out. A fork clinks against the plate, but then Daniel shifts on the chair to face him.

“Wren,” he says quietly, and with a sigh Wren looks straight at him - only to blink in surprise when he sees the fork almost in his face, with a piece of some kind of vegetable on it.

“What the fuck?” he mumbles, lifting his gaze to look at Daniel, frowning.

“Come on. Eat.”

He could break down in tears right there and then - but he swallows and shakes his head despite his stomach squeezing into a tight knot at the mere possibility of receiving food.

“Don’t be stubborn.”

“I don’t want anything from you, asshole,” Wren says, but his voice is on the verge of breaking, and he’s so fucking pathetic.

Daniel lets out another deep, tired sigh and puts the fork on the plate before cupping Wren’s face in his hands; he doesn’t even have the energy to resist, putting all his strength into keeping his gaze as hostile as possible instead.

“Don’t look so fucking worried,” he growls, the fire of fury joining the one of humiliation at the way Daniel purses his lips together.

“Kid, I am worried,” he says and shakes his head. “Worried that my precious plaything is turning into a walking dead.” 

“I’m not your-”

“Yes, you are.” Daniel’s voice is strict, sober. “But you suck at it when you’re like this, so I’ve decided to change things up a bit.” He pats his cheek and Wren hisses indignantly. “You’re going to be eating normally from now on.”

He closes his eyes for just a moment, a slightly prolonged blink more than anything. 

“Where’s the fucking catch?” he all but whispers.

“There is no catch.” Daniel brushes his fingers over Wren’s jaw, and he doesn’t even feel disgusted at the touch, too focused on the hunger, the smell of the food, the hope. “Unless you count taking turns cooking. You eat, you need to contribute.”

So he doesn’t have to sing.

“Your food’s getting cold, kid.” Daniel turns his gaze to the plate. “It’s nothing fancy, just boiled vegetables, but I don’t want you puking your guts out again.”

Wren nods absentmindedly and Daniel lets go of his face to grab the fork again.

“Why do I need to be cuffed for this?” Wren mutters with a pang of shame.

“For my entertainment,” Daniel says matter-of-factly and smiles a gentle smile. “But most of the time you’ll be eating at the table.”

Wren nods again in spite of the way most of the time makes him shudder harder. 

It’s not that bad, he tries to make himself feel better, he could always make me eat off the floor. At this moment he wouldn’t really mind it either - and he can’t help but feel grateful that Daniel has decided not to exploit his state further.

When Daniel holds out his hand once again, Wren readily opens his mouth. This is neither the time nor the place for stubbornness or shame, and he fights down whatever’s left of rational thoughts.

He chews the bit of food and closes his eyes. It’s bland and mushy, a must for his battered stomach, and it’s the best thing he’s ever eaten, the sweet promise of regular meals adding more than enough flavor. He keeps his eyes closed when Daniel feeds him more, not wanting to see the amusement and delight on his face. He’s surviving. That’s all that matters.

When there’s no more food, he almost whines, his hunger dulled, but still there.

“You’ll get more later.” Daniel’s voice is still soft, and it’s terrible, everything about this is terrible, but Wren can’t bring himself to care. “We need to take it slow for now.”

He grabs Wren by the hair again to pull his head closer until his forehead rests against his thigh. The grip lessens and Daniel starts stroking his hair instead, delicate, steady motion; Wren lets out an involuntary sigh and finds himself leaning into the touch, the gentle fingers on his scalp twistedly soothing.

“You’ll get better in no time,” Daniel whispers.

When he gets better, he will be tortured. Daniel will keep hurting him, humiliating him and getting more and more intimate, which he fears more than anything. This is just the beginning, the first few weeks of this nightmare of a new life, and it will only get worse.

But at the very least he will have the strength to endure it.

And to escape, he thinks, slowly drifting off, Daniel’s amused “goodnight” duly noted. One day.

Next

[brokehorrorfan]

Blu-ray Review: Escape from L.A.

Despite launching one of the genre's most successful and longest running franchise with Halloween (and returning to write and score its first two sequels), the only sequel John Carpenter ever directed was 1996's Escape from L.A. The master of horror took the skeleton of his 1981 cult classic, Escape from New York, and worked with frequent collaborator Debra Hill (Halloween, The Fog) and star Kurt Russell - his sole writing credit to date - to pen a followup for Paramount Pictures.

Set in the near-future of 2013 - after an earthquake has turned the crime-ravaged Los Angeles into an island - the city becomes a modern-day Alcatraz to which "undesirable" people are deported. When Utopia (A.J. Langer, The People Under the Stairs) - daughter of the self-declared president for life (Cliff Robertson, Spider-Man) - escapes to L.A. with the power to end her father's tyrannical empire, the government deploys Snake Plissken (Russell) in exchange for a full pardon of his laundry list of crimes. If he fails to comply within 10 hours, a designer virus will kill him.

Although the setup is a blatant carbon copy of Escape from New York - "Sounds familiar," Plissken quips during the expository opening - Carpenter and company take a few outside-the-box swings with the larger budget and expanded scope. The wacky ideas (the basketball challenge, tsunami surfing, hang gliding) don't always pay off, but these elements - and Carpenter and Russell's commitment to them - make the movie feel like a comic book come to life. The script also delves into satirical social commentary.

Escape from L.A. lacks the shadowy cinematography with which Dean Cundey captured the post-apocalyptic New York, but director of photography Gary B. Kibbe (They Live, Vampires) does a fine job. Although fairly impressive by 1996 standards, the film's visual effects have aged poorly. The early sequence of Snake's submarine diving through the ruins of Universal Studios is akin to a Syfy movie. On the practical side, Rick Baker (An American Werewolf in London) provides some fun effects.

For the soundtrack, Carpenter collaborated with Shirley Walker (Final Destination, Memoirs of an Invisible Man). While the main theme is a update of New York's instantly recognizable cue, the score mixes Carpenter's signature synth with additional instrumentation. The result varies from bombastic rock (similar to Ghost of Mars) to Western-style blues (similar to Vampires) to traditional orchestral cues. The diverse soundtrack also ranges from Tool to Tori Amos, from Sugar Ray to Randy Newman, plus an original White Zombie song over the end credits.

In addition to his atmospheric visuals and innovative synthesizer scores, Carpenter has always had a knack for casting. Any number of his films are populated with an amalgam character actors of yesteryear, contemporary stars, and up-and-comers. Escape from New York might be the best example of this, and L.A. carries the torch high. Russell falls back into the role as if no time had passed between the two productions, fully realizing his own gruff, reticent antihero in the mold of Clint Eastwood's Man with No Name.

The cast includes Steve Buscemi (Reservoir Dogs) in a fun supporting role as an opportunistic sidekick; Stacy Keach (The Ninth Configuration) as a Commander that essentially fills the Lee Van Cleef role from New York; Peter Fonda (Easy Rider) as a bitchin' surfer; B-movie queen Pam Grier (Jackie Brown) as a transgender woman with a modulated voice; horror icon Bruce Campbell (The Evil Dead), nearly recognizable under prosthetics, as a mad surgeon; Valeria Golino (Hot Shots) as an unlikely ally to Snake; and character actor Leland Orser (Seven) as an IT guy.

Escape from L.A. has received a new 4K scan from the original camera negative for Scream Factory's Collector's Edition Blu-ray. The gorgeous transfer is a notable upgrade from Warner Bros.'s earlier high definition release. It includes 5.1 surround and 2.0 stereo DTS Master Audio options. Hugh Fleming captures the film's fiery spirit on the new cover art, although it's rather busy with characters. The original poster artwork is on the reverse side.

While many of the key players opted not to participate in the new Blu-ray, and an audio commentary has never been recorded for the film - which is especially unfortunate considering how exuberant other Carpenter/Russell collaboration tracks are - Scream Factory's edition offers new interviews with cast members Keach, Campbell (audio only), Peter Jason, and Georges Corraface, plus special effects artist Jim McPherson and visual effects artist David Jones.

As a self-described fan of Escape from New York, Keach comments on the pressure of living up to the original. He concludes by explaining how the film led to his knee replacement surgery. Campbell discusses undergoing the makeup process that took five hours to apply and an hour to remove. He also shares an anecdote about Russell greeting him with a reference to Evil Dead 2, courtesy of his son. Jason shares a good-natured, if a bit long-winded (at 25 minutes), conversation tracing his origins as his actor and his collaborations with Carpenter, which include Prince of Darkness, Village of the Damned, and L.A.

Corraface talks about several milestones of his career before digging into L.A. McPherson discusses working under the tutelage of Baker in his interview, which is accompanied by some of his personal, behind-the-scenes photos. For my money, Jones gives the most interesting interview on the disc. From playing around on an Apple II to landing a gig at Disney to working on Escape from L.A. in only his second year as a visual effects artist, his story is a fascinating one. He personally takes responsibility for some of the film's "subpar" VFX but also contextualizes the achievement for its time.

Escape from L.A. is available now on Collector's Edition Blu-ray via Scream Factory.

[xpouii]

Tentacletober Day 27

It’s late! Smut Month is still releasing on time though just a bit later in the day. No worries! This is the Sequel to Day 19 and the finale of the series started on Day 9! There might be a followup in the future if there’s interest but it’ll be after Smut Month ends. Thanks for reading!

Prompt: They Won’t Hurt You

Characters: Virgil, Roman, Remus, Deceit, Patton, Logan

Warnings/Tags: Sequel to Day 19, SFW, domestic violence, child abuse, drug use, mentioned pornography, kissing, non-explicit nudity, sympathetic Remus, unsympathetic Deceit, sympathetic unsympathetic Patton (Yes really), mentions of self harm and eating disorder

           Virgil rolled over when his phone pinged, the screen lighting up his face in the dark room. He smiled as he scrolled through the three selfies Roman had sent,  each face sillier than the last. His hair was mussed and he was in pajamas with Remus over his shoulder. You’re not actually sleeping right now are you?

           It’s two in the morning so yeah, I was sleeping. What the hell are you two doing?

           Virgil yawned as he waited for the response. His phone lit up again and Virgil grabbed it.

Buying you porn. Remus is loving it.

           Virgil choked on a laugh and pulled his pillow over his face to stifle it, hurriedly typing back. WHY

           Because baby Virge only turns 18 once in his life!

           Wait you’re in your pajamas. Where are you?

           Roman sent another selfie with his tongue out, obviously standing in front of the clerk at the adult bookstore/bottle shop called Secrets. In the background Remus was balancing an armful of magazines—and a few boxes Virgil couldn’t see very well from the angle. He turned red. Roman what are the boxes?????

Happy Birthday! A string of birthday cake emojis and sexy lips followed the message, and then Go to bed baby see you tomorrow!

Virgil started a reply then quickly shoved his phone under his pillow and squeezed his eyes shut when he heard the footsteps. His door swung open and Deceit stalked in, “It’s the middle of the fucking night!” he growled. “And all I can hear is your fucking phone going off!”

“S-sorry!” Virgil said. “Roman couldn’t sleep and-“

“What’s going on?” Patton called, moving around Deceit smoothly and standing between the two of them. “Virgil honey are you alright?”

“Fucking texting,” Deceit said. “Fucking phone woke me up.”

“Put it on silent, baby,” Patton said. Something about his expression was different. He looked afraid. “Come to bed Dee.”

Deceit tried to step around Patton but he blocked him, “Go back to bed Patton I’m going to have a talk with him.”

“Dee it’s alright,” Patton said, reaching to put his hand on Deceit’s chest. “Come back to bed with me. I’m cold… please?”

Deceit shrugged off Patton’s hands and tried to nudged past him, “Get out of the way, Pat I’m going to-“

“Dee stop!” Patton shouted, refusing to budge from the doorway. “No more!”

Deceit paused, shocked, and then he sneered, “Suddenly you’re brave, huh? You’ve forgotten how things used to be.” He slammed Patton against the wall, hand around his throat.

Virgil scooted to the edge of the bed but Patton threw his hand out, warning him away; the teen pulled his knees to his chest as tears poured down his face. Patton didn’t struggle, but his eyes were wide; there was a primal fear there, and he was stuck, silent for a long moment as he fought the scared animal inside himself, “Dee. You’re… I won’t let you hurt him anymore. It has to stop now.”

Deceit’s sneer turned angry, and before Virgil could even shout, he punched the other man. Patton’s glasses fell to the floor, broken, but he stayed standing until the third blow that busted his lip, and he went down to his knees. Deceit spat on him, turning and storming into his study and slamming the door. Virgil rushed to Patton’s side, “Dad!”

Patton cupped his face, “Shhh baby I’m fine.”

“But-“

“You can’t comfort me, Virgil. Not after I let him do this to you for thirteen years. Now, go back to bed baby. I’m making your favorite for breakfast. Don’t oversleep.” Patton wiped his bloody lip on his pajama sleeve and pressed a kiss to Virgil’s forehead. “Go on baby.”

Virgil walked backward to the bed, eyes fixed on his father as he stood and picked up his glasses, leaving the room. He closed his eyes and tried to sleep, his mind running in circles.

  Patton closed the door and walked into the bathroom; he flipped on the light and stared at his own reflection. His eye was red and puffy, and blood from his lip was smeared across his chin. He gripped the sink with both hands, squeezing his eyes shut and swallowing away the tears that tried to surface. He wouldn’t allow himself the luxury. Washing his face, he regarded himself dully, a tired, selfish idiot who had let his own fear and insecurities make him abusive. Deceit might have put hands on Virgil, but Patton had destroyed him.

They were old memories, but it was like riding a bike as Patton took down the first aid kit and checked his face.

You never forget.

“Pat!” Deceit called as he stepped in the door, taking off his jacket. “Are you home?”

Patton emerged from the kitchen with a smile, “Hi sweety. How was work?”

“Dinner?”

“Oh… um… I’m getting ready to go and meet the guys from the hospital… you remember? It’s the little reunion today.” Patton stayed in the kitchen doorway, his heart pounding.

“So you just decided I don’t need to eat?” Deceit asked coolly. “So you can go whore yourself out all night?”

Patton’s face reddened and he looked down at his feet, “I’m sorry. I have time I can make-“

“Shut up!” Deceit hissed, and the slap was quick, not even as hard as Patton was used to.

But it caught him off guard, and he grabbed the doorframe to steady himself, whimpering. Deceit moved in and pushed him until he was pinned against the kitchen island. “Dee please let me fix-“

The second hit wasn’t a slap, but a punch to his jaw. Patton saw stars and his feet tried to give out. Deceit had never gone so angry so quickly before, and Patton tried to duck away, terror driving him to run rather than to sit and take it like he usually did. He was quick, and adrenaline drove him up the stairs. He’d just put his hand on the top banister when Deceit’s hand grabbed his shirt. His husband yanked him backward violently, stepping out of the way and letting Patton fall.

Patton had seen broken bones before, but he’d never heard one so clearly as when he landed on the bottom step and his tibia snapped.

Patton heard it now as he closed the first aid kit and replaced it on the wall, going back to bed.

  Virgil was dressed and ready for the day when he emerged from his room, tiptoeing down the stairs and hurrying to the kitchen. Patton was at the stove and he turned around, looking a bit resigned at first and then when he saw Virgil he beamed, “Happy Birthday!”

Virgil stopped short when he saw the black eye, already going dark and ugly. His father was wearing his emergency glasses that he had in case his others were ever broken, and he was holding a plate of blueberry pancakes. “Dad…”

Patton walked over and set the plate down at the table, turning around and letting out a sound of surprise when Virgil wrapped his arms around him, “Oh, Virgil. Your breakfast will get cold.”

Patton gave Virgil a pat on his back and directed him to the chair as if afraid of his affection—and he was, reminded of the manipulation and cowardice he’d been using on his son. He went to the sink and immediately started the dishes, “So, my grown man, what are your plans for today? It’s Friday so you must be going to stay with Roman or Logan? Right?”

Virgil shook himself out of his surprise, “Uh… Roman wanted to have a party I guess. Is that-“

“Oh my sweet baby, you don’t have to ask anymore,” Patton said. “Do you need money? I’ll run by the atm after I go by the optometrist today and I’ll bring it by school ok? And I promise I won’t send any of those silly balloons that always embarrass you. I know-“

The air in the kitchen changed as Deceit walked in; Virgil looked down at his breakfast, tensing up when Deceit patted his back. “Happy Birthday, son.”

Deceit then walked over to Patton, and Virgil watched as he wrapped his arms around the smaller man’s waist and spun him around to kiss him, “Good morning, baby.”

Patton forced a smile that even Virgil couldn’t see through, “Look at you, all dressed up. Big meeting today, right?”

“That’s right,” Deceit said. “Plans for today?”

“I’m going to the optometrist. I must have broken my glasses last night when I got up to go to the bathroom. I slipped and hit my face on the edge of the vanity.”

“Clumsy,” Deceit said, and pulled Patton in for a deeper kiss, going so far as to bite his husband’s split lip. “You look beautiful, but wear some makeup when you go out. Not everybody appreciates a bare face.”

“Of course,” Patton said, watching Deceit sweep out of the kitchen. He went back to the dishes without comment, and Virgil felt sick.

 On the way out the door, Virgil heard his father in the bathroom and stopped to watch. Patton was using a makeup blender sponge and concealer to hide the bruises on his face. He didn’t hear Virgil, or notice him standing there, and an ugly bitter feeling swelled up inside of Virgil as he thought about the way Patton knew how it felt, and still let it happen.

“When’s the last time he hit you? Before last night?” Virgil asked.

Patton jumped, and it was familiar, that hypervigilance, and Virgil was torn between sympathy and bitterness. “Virgil you’re going to be late for school.”

“Are you going to tell me?”

Patton sighed, putting down the blender and turning to face Virgil, “Before you were born. It’s been eighteen years almost to the day. When we brought you home from the hospital… on the way home he cried and he swore never again. He’d done it before but he’d never actually cried before. I thought life was going to be perfect, my perfect little life. I quit working, like he wanted, and we had you and you were so beautiful, Virgil, so perfect. Even when you cried and fussed and… god Dee loved you. You were the apple of his eye, honey, his little carbon copy. You followed him everywhere. You watched him get ready for work every morning and at breakfast you’d pretend to read the newspaper to him. You’d just babble away.” Patton laughed softly, then the smile faded. “Then, one day when you were six, you knocked his coffee into his lap. He slapped you so hard you fell off your chair.”

“I remember,” Virgil said. “A little.”

“You ran right to me and I picked you up and you wouldn’t let go of me until he left for work. You were mine after that. You wanted me to teach you to knit and when you found my clarinet in the attic you joined band and… I finally had the baby I wanted. Instead of… of trying to encourage you to go back to Deceit I just… held onto you. Anytime you got in trouble I called him, because if I disciplined you, you might go back. You might decide you liked him better again. I should have stepped in-between the two of you, disciplined you myself. If I didn’t make him so angry at you all the time… if I wasn’t such a worthless coward. I tried, Virgil. I tried to work up the courage so many times, you know. Every time I thought about it I could feel him hitting me, the broken bones and the cigarette burns and the blood. I couldn’t do it. I know you hate me and you should, Virgil. I’m worse than he is. I’m a monster.”

Virgil stared at his feet, then he took a breath, “I didn’t start self harming until the therapist talked me into it.”

Patton turned back to the mirror, “Jesus is there anything I didn’t do to you?”

Virgil shrugged, “I’m going to school now. Don’t know when I’ll be back but uh… can I have a thousand? Dollars I mean?”

“Sure. I’ll come by around noon or so. I’m sure the secretary will have to call you up and-“

“Just leave it in the office,” Virgil said. “And text me. I’ll get it between classes.”

Virgil left the doorway and Patton went back to covering his black eye, trying to finish before he started crying again.

  Roman and Logan were talking at the breakfast table when Virgil finally showed, “Hey! Why were you so late, jerk!” Roman greeted.

“Happy Birthday!” Logan piped in cheerfully. He handed Virgil an overstuffed envelope. “Don’t open that yet.”

Roman bounced in his seat, pulling Virgil into a hug as soon as he sat, “Our baby’s finally a man! I can’t wait to give you your presents!”

Virgil chuckled, setting his bag down, “Ok ok, and I don’t have to go home either.”

“Until like this evening?” Roman asked.

“No,” Virgil said. “Like ever, but definitely not until we’re done partying.”

“Excellent,” Logan said. “I believe the morning drive alone will take four hours.”

Virgil blinked, “What?!”

Roman shushed him, “Worry about it after school. For now, you just have to make it through a day of classes knowing the absolute bonerfest waiting for you in my car.”

“Ok ok fine,” he said, smiling at his friends. “Logan? How are you feeling?”

Logan’s smile became warmer, more subdued, “I’m still adjusting, but I remain free of withdrawal and the doctor said if things hadn’t gotten bad by now I was in the relative clear as long as I can avoid the mental aspect of addiction which… the CBD has really helped. And my mother was so happy she bought me a car. I can’t drive it or anything, but she said since I’m not losing time anymore eventually she’ll concede to me getting my license. I’m not worried about it though. The two of you can chauffer me around until you’re off to college.”

“Right well if you weren’t going to get into the country’s finest schools maybe we could keep driving you around,” Virgil teased.

The other two were silent and Virgil frowned, “Oh god, Logan… did something happen?”

“No,” Logan said, adjusting his glasses. “I’m taking a gap year.”

“Really?” Virgil gasped. “You?”

“We can’t all leave Remus,” Logan said. “And his portal jumping can only get him so far. He can’t follow you all the way to college so he’s going to live under my bed until you two come home. Besides, what normal teenager wouldn’t agree to spending a year smoking weed in their parent’s house with a… tentacle monster.”

Roman hummed, “Well, tentacles aside, Remus learned a lot about human anatomy last night. He was amused, then horrified, and I think he has a healthy fear of us now.”

Virgil snorted and hid his face in his hands, tears stinging his eyes, “Guys. I love you.”

The other two noticed the tears and Roman moved in immediately, “Baby what is it!”

“We overwhelmed him, clearly,” Logan said. “He’ll never want to see another penis again when you get done with him.”

“Not even possible,” Roman said, but he pulled Virgil’s hands away, fixing his makeup gently. “Tell me baby.”

“My dad… fuck. It’s a mess you guys. I don’t even know where to start.”

“Start after our text messages,” Roman said. “Until the bell rings, then we’ll catch up at lunch.”

Virgil managed to tell them everything in a short, dirty version before the bell rang. Both of his friends were speechless—and Virgil could hardly blame them—but Roman did walk him to class holding his hand.

When lunch rolled around, all three of them took to Virgil’s truck, Logan in the cramped backseat and the other two up front. Virgil drove them off campus to the nearby park and opened his gift from Logan—a full baggy of pre-rolled joints, Berry White strain—and they shared it. It didn’t take long for the awkwardness of the morning to float away on the thick smoke.

“It’s fucked up, isn’t it?” Logan said from the backseat, rolling down the window and hanging his long legs out so he could fully stretch out. “Patton was beaten for… how long have they been married?”

“Good fucking question,” Virgil muttered.

“However many years, and then when Deceit decides to beat you instead, he just lets him, for almost your entire life. He just so happens to put a stop to it now.”

“Because you’re turning eighteen,” Roman said, taking a deep drag and holding it in while the other two waited. “You can leave now, legally, and never have to go home. He needs you to want to go home. It’s just like my mother on my birthday, the selfish bitch.”

“You think it’s an act?” Virgil asked, his heart dropping. “Really?”

“No,” Logan said. “But it may have been enough to finally get him to act. I think he’s just afraid that he’ll never get the chance to do penance for what he’s done to you. Personally, I wouldn’t forgive him. Tell him to fuck off.”

Virgil picked up his phone as it pinged and he chuckled, “He just left one thousand dollars for me in the school office.”

“Don’t tell him to fuck off,” Logan said, sitting up. “I’m an idiot.”

“Take the money and then tell him to fuck off,” Roman said. “Or let me do it. God please let me tell him off. I want to punch him in his other eye the piece of fucking shit.”

The truck was silent for a moment, and Logan leaned forward between them, “You’re kind of harshing the vibe, Roman.”

“I’m sorry,” Roman said, looking out the window.

Virgil scooted close and rested his head on Roman’s shoulder, “It’s ok, Ro. I understand.”

Roman turned and kissed Virgil, deep and needy, until Logan sighed, “If you two are gonna have sex will you take me back to school?”

The truck filled with their hysterical giggles, and the tension melted away leaving only warmth—and three insistent cases of the munchies—behind.

  They left school together, Logan riding with Virgil all too happy to skip the bus. “This truck smells like weed,” he said with a smirk.

Virgil chuckled, “So, we’re having a party at Roman’s tonight but… what about tomorrow? What’s with the road trip?”

“I’m sworn to secrecy,” Logan said. “And now that I’m no longer popping Adderall I can actually remember to keep my mouth shut. I’ll just say you’re going to love it, and that’s all you’re getting out of me.”

“Should I pack a helmet?”

“Knowing you? Always,” Logan said. “But stop trying to get me in trouble with Roman. He’s meaner than you. What do you think Remus makes of birthdays?”

“Well I know he has them. Roman had a hell of a time teaching him about cake though when he had that Home Ec homework you remember? Remus kept putting his face in it.”

Logan snorted, “Remus said Roman’s doing better with the ice cream thing.”

“That’s what I heard,” Virgil said. “I uh… think as long as he stays strong and ignores his fucking mother. The other day I was on the phone with him and she told him he was getting fat. He weighed himself and he was 108 pounds! He cried for an hour on the phone with me but I got him calmed down. What a monster.”

“Well Roman did say she’s started drinking more so maybe she’ll drink herself to death soon.”

“Dark,” Virgil said. “But I gotta keep a close eye on him until we leave for college. I think we’ve got things worked out to share a room so hopefully I can help him through rough times.”

“What about your rough times?”

Virgil shrugged, “I have the feeling those will be fewer and further between.”

“You do know that self-harming doesn’t just go away like that, don’t you? Sure Deceit might not hit you again but… you’ve got all this drama with Patton now. Even if you don’t stick around to work things out, you’ll still have some feelings about the whole thing. How could you not?”

Virgil shifted in his seat as he pulled up to the apartment complex. “Look… I know. I know it’s gonna be hard and like… I’ll probably saw my arm off before I’m done but right now I just want to pretend I’m normal.”

“Fair enough,” Logan said. “Let’s all pretend to be normal.”

“Porn time!” Roman shouted as he jumped out of his car.

“Well… the two of us anyway.”

              “Ok,” Roman said when they reached the door. “I promised mom there wouldn’t be any sugar so we should do our best to leave cake everywhere in here.”

           Virgil and Logan exchanged smirks and followed their friend inside. “This is the first time I’ve ever been here,” Virgil said. “It’s nicer than the old place.”

           “It’s alright,” Roman said. “Can’t wait to get the fuck out of here. How many days again?”

           Virgil took out his phone but Logan rattled off, “Ninety-seven… well, until move-in day on your campus. I know because I’m helping not because I’m trying to live vicariously through you.”

           “Good to know,” Virgil said.

           Roman put the heavy gift bag up on the kitchen table, “Ok Virgil! Time for presents!”

           “I should have gotten the helmet for this,” Virgil muttered, jumping when Remus bounced into the kitchen. “Hey Remus.”

           “Happy Birthday!” the monster said musically. His tentacles were wrapped around him politely, the way they stayed when he was interacting with his humans. “I’m told it’s customary to spank you!”

           “No, no I don’t think that’s gonna be happening,” Virgil said. “Thanks though Remus I appreciate the effort.”

             Gifts and cake and a lot of laughs later, the three of them were sitting around the table. Logan was flipping through one of Virgil’s new magazines with a look of amused bewilderment and Roman was poking at a second piece of cake. “I can’t believe we’re all adults now.”

           “I don’t feel like one,” Logan muttered.

           “I’m starting to,” Virgil said. “And it has nothing to do with the porn, before you ask.”

           “It’s because you ate three pieces of cake,” Roman said. “You’re transcending time and space because of the sugar.”

           Virgil grinned and shoved Roman, “Well I wanted to make sure and defy your mom as much as possible.”

           Roman reached over and spread a dollop of icing on Virgil’s nose. “Now you’re really a sweetie.”

           Virgil faked a gasp, flinging a few crumbs from his empty plate at Roman, “Don’t start a food fight you can’t start, my friend.”

           “Who said I don’t plan on finishing you?” Roman said, biting his bottom lip as he picked up the entire piece of cake and jumped forward, smearing Virgil’s face with it.

           The boys were laughing as they fell to the floor, a mess of icing and crumbs. Logan ignored them, trying to figure out what the hell CBT was. Once Virgil started tickling Roman, the fight was lost, and Roman cried uncle, leaving the two boys in an undeniably intimate heap on the floor, “Told you you wouldn’t finish,” Virgil gloated.

“Happy Birthday you bitch,” Roman laughed, and Virgil leaned in to lick some of the icing off of his cheek. “Stay with me, Virgil, forever?”

“Yeah, but only if Remus can live under our bed,” Virgil said.

“We really do spoil him,” Roman said, pulling Virgil down for a kiss.

When it became obvious the kiss wasn’t going to stop, and hands began to wander, Logan rolled his eyes and stepped over them, leaving the kitchen. He walked upstairs to Roman’s bedroom and sat on the edge of the bed. “Didn’t take them long, did it?”

“Longer than I expected, but no,” Logan said as Remus crawled up to sit beside him. “I didn’t expect you to duck out so early.”

“I was hoping you’d follow me,” Remus said. “I’ve been wanting to try something with you.”

Logan looked over and saw Remus’ cheeks were stained with a blush of green. He raised an eyebrow, “Are you trying to… hit on me?”

“I hadn’t started yet!” Remus barked. “I was going to lock the door and then put my leg up on Roman’s desk and you were going to ask if I was trying to seduce you. At least try to follow your own customs!”

“That’s from the movie The Graduate and it is by no means my custom,” Logan said. “But… I’m interested.”

“What?”

“I’m saying yes.”

“Yes what?”

“Yes, fuck me!” Logan blurted.

Remus crouched and moved close, his nose touching Logan’s, “Are you sure?”

“You want me to rethink things?” Logan said. “Your breath smells like Old Spice… were you eating Roman’s deodorant?”

Remus sat back on his haunches, covering his mouth, “No!

Logan laughed at the absurdity and took off his glasses, “If you want to kiss me, go brush your teeth.” He stood and started to strip.

Remus froze to the spot, staring at Logan’s body, studying every pale inch that came into view. “You’re different.”

Logan looked over his shoulder, “Than the men in Roman’s porn magazines? No kidding. Are you going to brush your teeth?”

Remus scurried off to the bathroom as Logan looked at himself in the mirror hanging on Roman’s door. He had gained a bit of weight in his face, but it looked filled out, and his eyes were no longer circled in sleepless bruises. His lips, once dry and chewed to pieces were plump, smooth and soft. He licked them, letting himself smile as he touched the red rub mark on the bridge of his nose from his glasses. He reached and turned off the room light, leaving only Roman’s preposterous white Christmas lights circling the canopy of his bed, and Logan thought he looked even better in shadow. Behind him, a pair of green glowing eyes appeared and he shivered at the touch of tentacles over his naked body. “Don’t worry,” Remus whispered, ghosting his lips over Logan’s shoulder as his tentacles writhed and caressed Logan in the dark. “They won’t hurt you.”

[ebelwrites]

Reviving Something Dead

Well, I’m sick. I’ve been sick for the past few days and it sucks. At least it’s doing wonders for my writing. So, DS Dreammare, soulmate AU edition. I really like how this turned out and I’ve already got ideas for a followup oneshot to this. Also, human Dreamswap crew, just because I felt like it.

Nightmare was seriously regretting accompanying Error to JR’s Orphanage. Not that there was much choice in the matter; with how new their status as innocents was, Error going alone was out of the question and Cross was far more likely to create an unwanted incident than Nightmare was. Still, though, Nightmare found himself only growing more and more uncomfortable the longer they stayed. The supposed to be five minute stop to drop off another package of knitted goods for the kids winding up being thirty minutes and counting, as Error got caught up talking with the guy who’d been checking the packages when they’d been anonymous. Nightmare was stuck silently fidgeting behind them.

It didn’t help at all that Dream was in the same room as them. It had only been two weeks since the other had forcefully changed his nature from negative to positive; after a hundred years of being on the run, of having to flee at the slightest hint that the positivity guardian was anywhere near him, of the other’s presence bringing nothing but pain and the reopening of old wounds, two weeks was far too soon for him to be comfortable with the other’s presence. Luckily, Dream was busy talking to one of the more senior-looking orphanage workers about budget estimations, if he was hearing right, and hadn’t made any move towards them. Which was good, because Nightmare was not ready for any sort of conversation with him.

Nightmare scratched lightly at his hand as Error and the guy continued talking, looking around in a mix of boredom and uneasiness. He noticed a group of kids settling nearby, probably under the watch of a worker nearby and all looking like they were eight to thirteen. He nearly groaned out loud as he heard what they were discussing; their soulmate marks. They were showing each other their wrists, cooing over the names printed there and the few who had already met their soulmate were showing off the first green leaves of their branches. Nightmare felt a sour expression cross his face and he gripped his own wrist tightly. The ugly feeling of envy turned in his stomach as he watched them parade around their marks, blissfully unaware that a soulmate mark didn’t automatically mean a happy ending.

It hurt more the longer he watched them; a name written in a font that best suited your intended, the name resting on a large tree branch that wrapped around your entire wrist. The tattoo-like mark would change based on your relationship with your soulmate, green leaves sprouting with every happy memory and flowers blooming from the bark with gestures of love. If a truly important event happened, a charm representing the moment would form tied to the branch with a ribbon. And the marks between soulmates were always identical, so you always had proof of your relationship printed on your skin. Of course, Nightmare thought bitterly, people always forgot that the mark would change for hurtful moments between soulmates as well; leaves dying, wood rotting, ribbons ripping, good memories forgotten under a mountain of pain. He grit his teeth and tried his best to ignore the kids, but his eyes kept drifting back over.

Not all the kids had their wrists laid bare; it was considered a personal preference if you wanted to show off your mark or if you wanted to keep it private. Some proudly kept their wrists bare while others had simple leather cuffs with a simple latch, easy to undo if they wanted to sneak a quick peek. Nightmare had a thick and long one that laced up tight and was difficult to undo. In truth, he’d never undone it; he’d put it on when he noticed the first few leaves starting to turn yellow and hadn’t taken it off since. It was cowardly of him, but Nightmare hadn’t wanted to watch as his once-beautiful soulmate mark shrivelled away into a rotten carcass. He wanted to remember it as it had been at its best. He bit his lip and sighed; it was starting to make him feel sad.

He continued to idly watch the kids. They seemed to have grown bored of looking at each other’s marks and were now going around and asking the adults about theirs. Some happily showed, others preferred to describe it and keep the marks private, but each answer only seemed to make the little ones even more curious. It probably shouldn’t have come as a surprise to him, but he still felt like time slowed to a crawl when one of the youngest kids turned his inquisitive smile on Nightmare. It felt like Nightmare was watching a tragic event; where you could clearly see that things were going to end badly but you were powerless to stop it and all you could do was watch it happen. Nightmare had, for many years now, told anyone who asked that he wasn’t wanted by his soulmate. It was true, after all; it just cut out all the detail that he really didn’t want to go into with strangers. It tended to make them stop in sympathy rather than ask probing and uncomfortable questions. And so, when a child with a bright and naive smile asked who his soulmate was, his automatic answer rolled off his tongue without him even really thinking about it.

“I don’t have a soulmate; I’m unrequited.” There was a loud crash and some child-friendly curse replacements. The noise immediately drew everyone’s attention and, to Nightmare’s immediate relief, any interest Dream had in the people around him was absorbed by trying to clean up the remains of his coffee cup. The worker he’d been speaking with was bending down to help him and someone ran over some paper towels. Unfortunately, the now-silent atmosphere meant that everyone heard it when the child began talking to Nightmare again.

“What does ‘unrequited’ mean?” It was obvious from the kid’s body language that he’d figured out that it wasn’t anything good. Nightmare could feel a hundred pairs of eyes on him, watching the interaction and listening to him, and he felt his chest tighten.

“It means they didn’t want me.” It was immediately clear that no one had told these kids that it was possible for your soulmate to reject you. They did not take it well. They all started talking at once, voices rising with panic and sentences quick. Other workers went to them to try and soothe them, but it was all loud white noise to Nightmare. The child in front of him, now with tears forming in the corners of his eyes, took a step towards Nightmare. Nightmare wanted to step back, but his legs felt paralysed.

“They didn’t? But, but why?” The child was deeply distressed, that much was clear just from his voice, and Nightmare hoped desperately that the kid didn’t try to get any closer.

“They just didn’t want to.” Nightmare was amazed at how steady his voice sounded, although not as strong as he’d hoped it would be. “They told me that they didn’t love me, that they wouldn’t love me, and that was that.”

“Who are they?” The kid wasn’t quite shouting but it was still said loud enough to make Nightmare jump and his breath quicken. “They’re mean and they shouldn’t have said that, so who are they?”

“Tony!” Came the sharp reprimand from the worker that Error had previously been talking with. “Those are some very personal questions and we do not ask that!” The worker came around from behind him and the kid clung to him like a lifeline. One of them, or maybe both, said something to the other, but Nightmare couldn’t process it. There were too many people, too many questions, and Nightmare didn’t want to talk about this. His breath was coming in short pants now and he had to hold his own hands to stop them from shaking. He needed to get out.

“I have to go.” Nightmare had no clue how if he’d managed to say his sentence at anything above a whisper, but he no longer cared. He backed away until he had a clear path, and then he ran. Someone called his name but he couldn’t make out who it was. He couldn’t say how long he ran or where to, but when he became aware again, JR was far behind him and out of sight. His legs finally gave out from under him and he dropped to his knees in the dirt. He was trying to catch his breath when he heard a nearby bush rustle. Fear instantly filled him but he had no more strength to run. Then a blue string snaked out from the leaves and Nightmare calmed again. Error walked out and knelt beside him, strings wrapping around his hand in the approximation of a hand hold. For a long time, Error said nothing. But just his presence was enough to start calming Nightmare down; to know that there was someone who cared about him and his well being. Who knew how much time had passed before Error finally spoke.

“He hurt you a lot, didn’t he?” Nightmare nodded, unable to look at Error’s face. Tears pricked his eyes and he tried to shake them off. He would not cry; he’d shed enough tears because of that b*stard. They fell anyway. Error’s hand hovered over his shoulder and he could almost feel the willpower that it took for Error to be able to make the contact. The touch was comforting, but the knowledge of how far Error would push himself for Nightmare’s sake was even more so.

“Let’s get you home,” Error said, “You’ll be safe there.” Nightmare nodded in agreement, feeling the drain of the day weighing on him. At least with his friends, he knew he was loved and cared for.

Dream approached the lone house in front of him with a not-insignificant level of uncertainty. Perhaps it was still too early for this but Dream had little choice now. He had hoped that Nightmare would approach him for this conversation when the other felt more comfortable, but it was clear from the incident at the orphanage earlier today that it needed to happen sooner than that. It had taken a while for him to be able to leave; the children had all been in distress and had needed a lot of time in conjunction with his aura in order to calm down. Many of them had expressed a deep distaste for the one who’d abandoned Nightmare, and Dream privately wondered how many of them would cling to that distaste if they’d known the truth. Not that Dream had told them, though he had suspicions that the Toriel he’d been talking to had worked it out. It wouldn’t be hard to guess, considering his reaction when he’d heard what Nightmare had said. He should have been prepared for the answer, but he shamefully had not. Of course Nightmare would still believe that Dream didn’t want him when Dream hadn’t gotten around to telling him otherwise. Well, that was what he was here for now; it was time to clear up the miscommunication. He knocked soundly on the front door and waited for it to be opened. Though, the one who opened it was most certainly not the one he hoped would.

“Oh, it’s you.” The distaste was clear in Cross’ voice, the other staring at him with narrowed eyes. “What the h*ll do you want?”

“Not that it is any of your business,” he tried to hold back the bite in his tone but he didn’t entirely succeed, “but I am here to speak with Nightmare.”

“Not a chance, f*ckface.” Cross blocked the opening with his full body, physically preventing Dream from being able to push past him.

“Agreed.” A new voice came from further in the house and Dream could see the shape of Error making his way down the stairs. “I have only just gotten him calm and sleeping. Now is not the time for this.” Dream grit his teeth, trying to see over Cross’ shoulder.

“This is important, I need to speak with him as soon as possible.” He spoke to Error, hoping to appeal to the more sensible of the two, but the only reply he got from the dark-skinned man was a shaking head.

“Haven’t you already done enough to him today? Just bugger off!” Dream gave Cross a glare at those words and felt his patience slipping.

“What happened to him today was not my fault-”

“It’s always your fault!” Cross barely let him finish before cutting him off, screaming in anger. “Literally everything he’s been through has been your fault! Or are you not the b*stard who threw his soulmate aside like he was garbage?” The sudden increase in rage startled Dream into silence. All the irritation drained from him and he had no idea what to say in response. He wanted to say that it wasn’t true, that Cross was letting his anger lead him to exaggeration, but they all knew he would be lying. Dream could not think of a single bad moment for Nightmare since the apple incident that hadn’t been caused by him, indirectly or otherwise, and the realisation hurt him more than he ever thought it could.

“Please leave, Von Licht.” He’d been standing in silence for a while, trying to think of a counter and coming up with nothing, and it seemed that Error was tired of waiting. “You are not welcome here.” Cross punctuated the request by slamming the door in his face, leaving Dream standing on the front step alone. He stood there in silence for a bit longer, out of shock and uncertainty more than anything, before he finally moved away. He cast a look back at the house, but nothing changed. And so he left, his soul feeling like it was weighed down by lead. He had a lot to think about.

Dream paced in his room, fingers fiddling with the laces of his wrist cuff. It had been a long time since he’d taken it off, having originally put it on so that it wouldn’t distract him from his goal. But that meant that he had no clue of what condition the mark was in anymore. Of course, it wouldn’t be in good condition, a hundred years of trying to sever it made sure of that, but he didn’t know how far it had degraded. He wondered if Nightmare had checked either, or if the other had chosen to forget about it, just like he had.

He stopped his wandering feet and stared at the laces, gritting his teeth. It took him a while, and more willpower than he thought it would, but he eventually managed to yank off the cuff and reveal the skin underneath. When he caught sight of his soulmate mark, he choked, horrified. It was even worse than he had thought it would be.

The wood of the branch was shrivelled and rotting, ugly mushrooms growing where flowers had once bloomed. The lettering of Nightmare’s name was small and shrunken, almost as though it was trying to hide from sight. Some smaller branches were missing, cut clean off from the main branch, and deep wounds scored the bark. The charms that had once symbolised their most important moments were gone; the ribbons that once held them were now tattered and colourless, limp and lifeless. Each and every leaf was brown and dead, every good memory spoiled and rotten. But the most horrifying thing was the blood that splattered the entirety of his soulmate mark; not a single leaf wasn’t dripping with crimson. It was the one thing that wouldn’t be the same if he checked Nightmare’s mark. It was the brand of one who’d hurt their own soulmate, the more blood meaning the more damage, and it was seared into his skin.

The sight made his chest heavy with horror and sorrow. He’d once had one of the most beautiful soulmate marks in existence. One that made everyone who saw it envious. Now, and through his own actions, it was a wreck. It was a pitiful and poor copy of what it had once been, and the sight brought tears to his eyes, though he refused to let them fall. And the thing that hurt most of all was the knowledge of just how badly he had to have hurt Nightmare in order for the mark to look like this. It laid bare all of his crimes against his soulmate, no lies and no excuses, and it was a horrifying thing to see.

He had to do something. Even if Nightmare never forgave him or accepted him back, he had to at least apologise; the mark showed he had many things to apologise for. But could he do so sincerely? Apologies only meant something if you regretted the actions, not just the consequences. If he couldn’t say that he would change the past if he could, his words would mean nothing. He took a deep breath and thought carefully.

He was still firm on his stance towards negativity, he could not see any benefit from allowing it to stay in existence. But Nightmare and negativity were not the same thing, and it had taken him far too long to be able to see that. The hundred years of pain, of trying to hunt down and kill his other half instead of even trying to think of another solution, that he definitely regretted. He should have tried to find another way earlier, he should have tried to find another way from the beginning, but he hadn’t, and Nightmare had suffered needlessly at his hand. That would be what he would change, if he could do it all again; to never give up on having Nightmare in his life, to never bring pain to his other half. He’d found his answer.

He hurriedly pulled himself up off the floor, when had he fallen to his knees, and grabbed his cuff. He slid it back into place, spent a moment composing himself, and then walked out of his room. He had an apology to make.

Dream waited anxiously in the forested spot he’d asked Nightmare to meet him at. The other hadn’t arrived yet, Dream wasn’t sure that he’d even come at all, but Dream found himself willing to wait for however long it took. His mind kept running through possible answers to any questions or accusations Nightmare might send his way; some of the thoughts were quite ridiculous but Dream was too nervous to talk himself down into a calmer frame of mind. He took a deep breath and reminded himself of his decision. He’d hurt the other too much already, and he’d forfeited any right he had to be the other’s soulmate; in the end, it was Nightmare’s decision and he’d respect it, no matter what it was. No matter what the final outcome, even if Nightmare told him to leave and never come back, he would accept it.

The sound of footsteps heading towards him made his soul race, and he tried desperately to remain calm. There was the rustling of leaves before Nightmare appeared from the foliage. The other looked rough around the edges; wary look on his face and dark circles around his eyes. Nightmare kept distance between them and Dream did not go to close it. He didn’t want Nightmare to feel trapped or cornered.

“I got your message.” Nightmare’s voice was not welcoming. He held up the paper airplane note he’d judged as the best way to get Nightmare’s attention without alerting his housemates. “What do you want?”

“I want to apologise.” A look of confusion and suspicion crossed Nightmare’s face when he spoke, and he could feel the anger rising in the other.

“What exactly for?” The words were almost spat and Dream internally winced.

“For many things.” Dream’s arms folded in front of his chest as his guilt grew. “For hurting you, for scaring you, for abandoning you. For almost everything, in fact.”

“Are you really? Or are you only saying that?” Nightmare’s scepticism hadn’t diminished in the slightest and Dream felt his soul sink. “I doubt you suddenly changed your mind about negativity.”

“Negativity still needs to be erased,” Nightmare looked betrayed and like he was about to shout but Dream quickly kept speaking. “But you are not negativity. You are not the same, and it took me far too long to realise that. Everything I did to you, everything you endured, it was entirely unnecessary. But I was too stubborn and set in my ways to see that. Negativity had to go, but that never should have included you as well. I’m sorry, for being so blind.” Nightmare looked uneasy, unsure if he was speaking the truth. The smaller male was holding himself and Dream longed to comfort and reassure the other like he would have many years ago. But he wasn’t welcome to do so any more.

“So, what do you want from this?” Nightmare shuffled his feet, looking down at the dirt. “Are you looking for forgiveness? For me to just forget any of this happened?”

“I would like to be forgiven, but you are right to not give it and I would not ask for it. What has happened cannot just be forgotten. If you one day choose to, that is your choice alone. But even if you never do, you deserved to hear the apology.” Nightmare bit his lip. Dream watched him as the other was lost deep in thought. Silence bathed the forest.

“I don’t know if I can,” Nightmare was trembling and Dream wondered if he was as well, “but I don’t know if I can’t.” The last little bit was like a tiny scrap of hope, and Dream felt his breath leave him.

“Does that mean?” Nightmare bit his lip harder, shaking his head.

“I don’t know, I don’t know. Maybe, but maybe not. It might work out, but if it doesn’t…” Nightmare suddenly made eye contact with him, eyes searching for something within Dream’s. “If I tell you one day that I can’t forgive you, that I never want to see you again, would you accept that?”

“Yes.” The thought of it made his chest hurt something fierce, but he would. He’d given Nightmare too little happiness in the past century; he had no right to keep him from any more.

“Then,” Nightmare let out a wavering sigh before a tiny and fragile smile creased his lips. “Then I’m okay seeing what happens next.” Dream almost thought he’d cry when he heard those words. It was better than he could have ever hoped for.

“Thank you.” His voice was breathless and he felt himself smiling back at Nightmare. Nightmare gave him a shy look which was unreasonably endearing, and Dream could feel himself almost growing lighter at the sight of it. He remembered what it was like to love Nightmare; he wondered how he’d ever been able to give up this feeling.

“I need to get back,” Nightmare finally said, bringing the moment to an end, “before Error or Cross notice I’m gone.” Dream nodded and stepped back a step.

“Sleep well.” Nightmare gave a jerky nod in response and turned around to go back the way he came. He cast a look over his shoulder at Dream, and Dream gave him what he hoped was an encouraging smile. It seemed to bring comfort to Nightmare, though, as the other gave him a soft smile. And then he disappeared into the night.

Once Nightmare was gone, all the strength seemed to leave Dream’s knees. He knelt in the dirt, trying to regain his breath and composure. His eyes strayed to his wrist cuff. It was too soon, and he was sure it would all look the same, but the temptation to check was too great to resist. He yanked it off with no care of it’s well being, and his breath got caught in his throat. On a tiny stub of a branch, so small it almost wasn’t there, was a new little green leaf. It was tiny and almost blocked from sight by the bigger brown leaves, but it was whole and healthy and without a single drop of blood to be seen on it. He ran his thumb over it, almost not believing what he saw, before he pulled his arm to his chest in a tight grip, not wanting to let it go. The last bits of his restraint broke and tears started streaming down his face, but nothing could break the smile of relief on his face.

It was only tiny, but he had a chance to make things right.

[petalouda85]

I'm in desperate need of a sequel/followup to Return. I need to know what terrible things Snoke is going to do to them! Ares needs to kill him and save his parents! Or more angst! Thank you!

*casually walks in five months late* Look at what I finally managed to finish. I’m terribly sorry it took me so long to finish. I hope you enjoy it regardless. For those of you that don’t know, this is the follow-up to a short called Return that I wrote back in February. Here’s the link to it [x] as well as the link to the story (and this follow up) on AO3 [x]

On a final note: I have finished writing other requests that are still in my inbox and they will all be posted throughout this week and next week.

When the door opened to revealstormtroopers, Kylo knew their time had come. It never mattered how long thewait was. An hour, a day or a month. Everyone who betrayed Snoke would bepunished. He didn’t bother to resist as the soldiers pulled him to his feet,the force dampeners around his wrists having drained most of his strength. Helet them shove him out and quietly obeyed their orders to move.

He knew the way out – he had often walkedthe path to the cells himself – but at the exit, he stopped, his heart racingwhen he saw Hux waiting, stripped of his general uniform and his hands chained.

Seeing Hux like that, Kylo felt a pang ofguilt.

Hux had told him to wait, to bide theirtime just a little longer before executing the plan. But Kylo hadn’t listened,too impatient and too desperate to wait, resulting in him starting the plan onan emotional whim. Hux was quick to enact his part. But as quickly as theirbetrayal had started, those still loyal to Snoke had subdued them, throwingthem into their cell to await punishment.

Kylo had no regret for his betrayal; hisonly regret was that Hux would bear the brunt of his mistake.

The stormtroopers brought them down thefamiliar route to Snoke’s chambers, his former master sitting on his throne asalways, his face smug and prideful.

“Well, well, well. Myformer apprentice and general. How the mighty have fallen.” He mocked as Kyloand Hux were forced to their knees in front of him.

“Supreme Leader.” Kylosaid, trying to keep his voice from sounding as though he was begging. “Hux hadnothing to do with this. This was my doing and mine alone. Take it out on me,not him.”

“Silence!” Snokesnapped, standing from his chair to approach the kneeling men. “Your mind is nolonger protected, Kylo Ren; I can see everything now. How your precious generalconspired with you to displace me and get your precious son back. He planned itall with you, making him no less a traitor than you are.” Beside him, Huxremained silent and Kylo wanted to spew something back, throw his hands out andchoke the life out of the monster in front of him but he couldn’t. Not withoutrisking Hux more harm and so, he bit his tongue, pointlessly hoping thatwhatever punishment Snoke had would be swift and painless for them both.

For a moment, Kylo’smind drifted to his son, his beloved boy. He hadn’t seen him since he was atoddler; he would be a teenager now. He wondered what Ares looked like now. Washe tall? Did he look more like Hux? Did his hair color change or was it stillthat beautiful shade of blonde?

Perhaps, Forcewilling, he would see him soon.

“Enough talk.” Snoke’svoice snapped Kylo out of his short moment of reverie. “It is time. No onebetrays me without suffering the consequences. But what punishment would beproper for my traitorous apprentice and his bastard lover?” As the wordbastard, Kylo instinctually shuffled closer to Hux, wanting to protect him asSnoke continued to spew his venom. “I considered killing you both before thefiring squad but that’s fast. Much too fast. I considered killing just one andletting the other live but that is too merciful. But I found the appropriate punishment.”Snoke signaled to one of the guards, standing by a doorway leading to a sidechamber. He opened it and two stormtroopers came out, carrying someone betweenthem, though Kylo couldn’t see their face.

They dropped him tothe floor, the stranger groaning in pain as he looked up. His face was coveredin fresh cuts, his lip bleeding heavily and there was a fresh bruise forming onhis cheek. But despite his marred face, Kylo recognized him, his stomachfalling.

“Ares?” Hux said nextto him, his voice potent with disbelief. The teenager looked up, realizationdawning on his face as he gazed upon the two defeated men in front of him.

“Armitage Hux? KyloRen?” He asked in a small scared voice.

“Ares!” With renewedstrength, Kylo jumped to his feet and ran to his son, unable to believe he wasreally here. But before he reached him, before he could finally embrace his sonafter all these years, the Force knocked him back, Snoke chuckling in the background.

“It would seem despiteyour best efforts, you could not hide your son from me. You should never haveleft him on that forsaken island with that weakling. You could have molded himinto something worthy of the First Order, a worthy heir. Instead, you have onlygiven him pain and now, it is your time to feel pain.” Snoke nodded to one ofhis guards. The faceless man in red unsheathed and activated his weapon beforeslowly heading towards Ares, ready to carry out an execution.

“No! Supreme Leader, please!”Kylo shouted, fighting against the guards that grabbed him and were preventinghim from getting near his child. “He’s just a boy!” His pleas fell on deaf earsand he watched as Ares slowly shuffled himself into a corner, tears of fearrolling down his cheeks. With nowhere left to go, the teen huddled in onhimself, covering his head with his hands, waiting for the blow.

But it never came.

Kylo’s vision wentblack for a moment, followed by a blur that slowly cleared. Upon opening hiseyes, he quickly noticed that all in the room, including Snoke, had been thrownfrom their spot as if a strong gust had suddenly swept through. Sparks wereflying from damaged wires that were now exposed as the panels hiding them werenow gone. But most importantly, Kylo noticed he could sense the Force oncemore. He glanced to his wrists, the dampeners around them damaged beyond thepoint of repair.

Wasting no time, Kylogot to his feet, grabbed the nearest weapon and quickly killed the guards andhis former master before they recuperated. He allowed himself a moment to stareat the corpse of Snoke but he quickly turned away to release Hux from hischains.

“Ares.” He said oncethe bonds were off and the two men rushed to their son, the teen still hidingin the corner. He gasped in fear when Kylo lay a hand on his shoulder but hisfear was quickly replaced by relief and he allowed himself to be embraced by thetwo men.

“It’s alright.” Kylowhispered to his son when he heard him sniffling. “You’re safe now.”

[thelittleyellowpill]

Testimonial Tuesday

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“I have been battling a complex war in my body for decades. Autoimmune disorders since childhood. I am hypersensitive to chemicals which can be anything from perfumes, diesel fuel, fillers in medications, pesticides, fertilizers, chemicals in foods etc. I was diagnosed over 25 years ago with hypothyroidism and about 10 yrs ago with RA. I have suffered with IBS for over 30 years..to the degree of being housebound because of it. I am overweight as a result of decreased mobility as well as long tern use of steroids (a poor diet as well). I learned how to detox my body and know the power of eating clean as it became a matter of life or death for me when my thyroid gland shut down completely after the birth of my last child, and was unable to take the medications needed to survive due to severe allergic reactions to them.

I learned how to rebuild my immune system organically and naturally. Needless to say I am not a novice at this game. When I developed RA, I went down hill so fast, that I went from having a productive active life, to having to crawl from my bed to use the bathroom. The arsenal of drugs that they threw at me to treat this hideous disease were ineffective, made me sicker, and I became addicted to opiates that provided me only minor relief from the pain. I was then approved for enbrel injections. Not only did my body tolerate it, it responded to it. I was able to wean myself of the pain meds and have been living life again to the fullest. I continued to struggle with IBS and my RA was manageable, and lived life gratefully, never forgetting how crippling the RA had been. I was never completely pain free, but enough to call it my miracle.

I was introduced to the little yellow pill about 4 months ago. I had a bit of a rough start with it. My IBS turned into the likes of a 24 hr enema of sorts. It was suggested I take half a pill for awhile which I did. I also at that time was due for my yearly physical. My thyroid tests came back abnormal for the first time in 20 yrs, I have been on the same dose of medication since being diagnosed and my test results suggested that I required a lower dose of medication. A followup blood test confirmed that I balanced out at a lower dose. I started taking a whole LYP and tolerated it. In fact, I no longer have any signs of IBS at all. For the first time since I can remember I am normal and no longer hostage to IBS. The ONLY thing different is the little yellow pill (LYP). I have tried everything under the sun, and nothing helped.

At the same time, my insurance dropped me and the new insurance fought paying for my enbrel. I have been off of it since starting the protandim. (not by choice, it just happened). I met with the Rheumatologist last week who saw that I had no visible inflammation, knowing that I have not been on any medication for 4 months. He wants me to have enbrel on hand in the event that I deteriorate, which I was comfortable with. I am no worse off than I was being on the Enbrel. His words.."It is highly unusual for RA to go into remission, that they see it occasionally" He was not ready to say I was in remission as I still have some stiffness in the AM. He asked me to document my diet, supplements, exposure to chemicals etc. I have waited to share any of this story because I wanted to be sure that I was experiencing long term effects - which I am. I am convinced that it has "healed" my IBS, affected my thyroid gland that caused my thyroid meds to be lowered, and may just be holding my RA at bay as well. While Enbrel has been a life changer for me, it is very hard on your organs.

One more added note, I have only discussed my process with my husband and my friend, Michelle along the way. My 80 year old mother had a knee replacement a while back and developed hip issues because of it. Almost worse than the knee issue. I told her that I had been keeping something to myself as I really weigh things out before I pass info along. I gave her a bottle of <The Little Yellow Pills>. She went from not being able to get up and down steps to having no pain in her hip. She had results in less than a week. I have put the LYP to the test. I have crossed over to being a believer.”

The Little Yellow Pill is clinically proven to reduce oxidative stress dramatically and oxidative stress is associated with over 400 disease processes.

[dclevinson]

9/8: first fall weather

Trying to savor the first perfect fall weather weekend of the season without worrying too much that these cool mornings and nights presage cold and really cold days and nights ahead. There’s a seasonal sense to the traditional Jewish calendar’s turning over at this point; at least it seems so if you live at certain points in the Northern Hemisphere. Well, we all turn the cycles of our own lives into meaning somehow. The great French filmmaker Jean Renoir has a character in The Rules of the Game say: “The awful thing about life is this: Everybody has their reasons.” I guess that idea can be alarming or, perhaps, reassuring.

We’ve been puzzled by a conundrum about Cindy’s condition for a while now: where her behavior is on the can’t/won’t axis. As she begins to have small breakthroughs in behavior, the question dissolves a bit. After an OT session yesterday where she worked on sitting up straight (with an OT Jenny assist from behind ) and passing a bright orange textured kickball to me (and, for variety, aide Connie), then back to her, Jenny and I were impressed by C’s sustained concentration and ability to initiate and follow thru (mostly) on task. When praised, Cindy cocked an eyebrow quizzically and gestured with her hand --- this? a big deal?

This reminded me of our MGH social worker Ellen’s conjecture, when we reconnected with her after the shunt surgery, that C’s motivation might be affected by the brain bleed as much as specific abilities (technical term: abulia). It struck me yesterday that she didn’t initially appreciate why passing a dumb ball back and forth mattered, which might make it harder to pass the dumb ball back and forth, etc. And add in increased distractability... Anyway, when she does some small things more normally, the questions about what impeded what before in what ratio all dissolve together.

This week we also saw her orthotics maestro who took a cast for a dynamic (moves to counter her moves) right knee night brace. He confirmed real progress in ankle flexibility from her night boots, but it was frustrating to discover that insurance approval and then casting would take several more weeks. Also frustrating to learn that the custom wheelchair folks have taken nearly 2 months to finish that insurance application, when it should have taken about 2 weeks! Down the line, perhaps some braces for standing (and maybe walking?!?). Many more pressing immediate and daily issues to deal with, but progress at any pace is nice to have.

Next Wednesday we have an MGH twofer. A neurology followup, though no obvious agenda: it will be interesting to see what he’s thinking about where she is now. Plus a three month post-shunt-replacement CT discussion (and likely decision) about whether we want to bump up shunt flow still to reduce vent enlargement --- if still there, and if a bump, how much...

[gear-project]

EX Mode/Gold Mode Summary

This is just notes for @d-author

EX Anji --Many of his moves have higher bounce like in GGX. --Most moves are no longer auto-guard based, or just simply guard cancelled. --Auto-guard moves are bigger/simplified. --6H is old multi-hit. --Gold/Gold EX Anji can have any number of Shitsu butterflies on screen at any time. --Supposedly had a scrapped move called Higi: Hitori Mikoshi in soundtest.

EX Venom --Charge Moves are replaced by standard command inputs. --A lot of his normals were altered based on GGX incarnation. --EX Gold Venom has Level 2 charged balls when using Red Hail or Carcass Raid Overdrives. --EX Gold Venom's balls auto-charge, so Object ball is not needed.

EX Faust --Lots of classic GGX animations and antics. --Gold/Gold EX Faust has Infinite Tension and releases only Meteors.

EX Baiken --All moves can be done as specials, not guard cancels. --Many normals/moves are based on her GGX incarnation, especially Youzansen. --Gold Baiken/Gold EX Baiken Tatami Gaeshi mats won't disappear if Baiken gets hit.

EX Bridget --Previous moves from GGXX incarnation. --Bridget can do more moves in the air now. --Gold/Gold EX Bridget's bear Roger stays out longer during attacks.

EX Potemkin --Return of classic GG1 move Nitro Hook. --Unbreakable Spirit has multiple responses that Pote can choose from after taking an attack. --Giganter is no longer a two-part Overdrive, and the Lightning Wall lasts longer/acts like Aegis Reflector. --Gold/Gold EX Potemkin has a Dash/Airdash but his walking speed is reduced.

EX Ky --Has many forcebreaks. --Classic GGX Normals/specials including Crescent Slash. --Moves are closer to Sol's style, except Grand Vapor Thrust, which can cross players up. --Gold/Gold EX Ky has enhanced Lightning Damage and more hits during Stun Edge moves. EX Stun Edge Charge Attack won't disappear until its off-screen (like GG1 version). --Awakened Ky from GGIsuka had Aces High/Ray Divider Moves based on Robo-Ky from GGX. --Gold EX Ky has a Greed Sever Overdrive.

EX Testament --Many classic GGX Normals. --More Teleports that aren't triggered by getting hit. --Hitomi Trees are replaced by gigantic enhanced EXE Beast jaws. --Phantom Soul comes out faster like it did in #Reload. --Nightmare Circular has both an instant and delayed version. --Grave Digger swaps with Badlands as the Forcebreak. --Gold/Gold EX Testament: Phantom Soul, Grave Digger, Warrant, Throw/Airthrow all place Curse on opponent.  Curse causes EXE Beast behavior to act faster/more aggressive.

EX Millia --GGX normals (except GGX Lust Shaker which was utterly scrapped). --Pretty Maze replaces her aerial Tandem Top Forcebreak. --Secret Garden causes her to backflip. --Silent Force can be done on the ground (based on GG1 Living Lancer, but it can't be controlled). --Gold/Gold EX Millia has a hyper dash that can skip through opponents.  She has a wide backdash too.

EX Zappa --Graceful Body-moving System 2 lets Zappa pick which summons he wants based on how many Souls he has. --He can unsummon Raou and cause a Lightning Sphere to happen as a last resort. --A few of the summon attacks are slightly altered. --Raou's 6H gets swapped from Bellow's Malice, and is replaced by Knuckle Kaiser. --Gold/Gold EX Zappa has permanent Raou.  Raou won't disappear even if he uses the Lightning Sphere unsummon in EX Mode, 6H is still swapped from Bellow's Malice, however.

EX Chipp --Teleports can be done in Mid-air. --Alpha/Beta/Gamma/Banzai chain in to one another up to 3 times (not sure if Forcebreaks can extend the chain). --Banki Messai behaves like a command throw after so many hits. (It has a 6P combo variant in GGXPlus). --Gold/Gold EX Chipp Invisibility won't disappear if Chipp is hit and lasts longer.  He also has relatively faster dash/backdash speed.

EX Axl --Many GGX Normals (no vacuum on attacks). --Moves don't need to be charged. --Angry Thrust behaves like an Overhead Dust Attack, as does his Combo Overdrive. --Gold/Gold EX Axl: Beehive Trap auto-links in to Thieves' Flame Overdrive without Tension or input.  EX version of Beehive auto-attacks regardless of it being hit or not, but the Overdrive addition won't trigger unless the trap makes contact.

EX Slayer --Now has a Mach-punch chain system of special moves.  Gatling tree is also looser with less links. --V-Formation Dandy and Royal Hunt (former is an Anime reference, latter is a metal reference). --Many of his moves behave differently on counterhit. --Ground dash effects Mach Punch spacing/momentum. --EX/Gold EX Slayer has auto HP-regen, and health gain on hit based on damage, and regular Gold Slayer has wider Forward/Backward Dashes with more invincibility.

EX Jam --Many of her moves are punches, no longer kick-based (based on Kenshiro). --Lots of GGX Normals recycled. --Gold Jam has permanent fully charged Kick Cards. --Gold EX Jam has an auto parry that replaces her standing neutral guard, this works up to a certain point behind Jam's guard hurtbox.

EX May --Many moves are based on her GGX Incarnation. --May Dynamic from GG1. --Moves are altered based on Overdrives. --Gold/Gold EX May has huge stun dizzy modifier for moves like 6P or 6H.  Applause for the Victim releases a lot of Dolphins and is fully charged.

EX Johnny --Mist Finer is now an attack counter, but not as effective as before (still damaging though). --Many scraped normals based on GGX incarnation. --Has moves that behave like a DP reversal. --Dash move is altered. --Gold/Gold EX Johnny has enhanced damage on all slash moves, and enhanced Tension gain on walk. --Gold Johnny's Mist Finer does 588 damage which causes near-instant death in most cases.

EX Dizzy --Has a secret GGX intro animation in the Grove Stage. --Many GGX Moves. --Necro behaves as both an auto-guard dash enhancement (Necro Install) and a catch counter (Necro's Anger). --Dizzy gains a variant of Michael Sword based on Justice. --Gold/Gold EX Dizzy has Health Regen, and Ice Fish stay out until they are hit or disappear offscreen.  They can be controlled by different inputs.  Necro's Flamescythe Spiral does additional hits when active. --Boss version of Gold Dizzy has a Burst Overdrive called "Wings of Light" that has three versions, a Light Pillar, a Radial Beam, and a full Burst.  It gets triggered when she has Burst and at least 75% Tension.  She does three FRCs before it goes active. --GG Mode Dizzy gains an Instant Kill animation.

EX Robo-Ky --Has derivatives of moves based on Prototype Robo Ky from GGX. --Knee Missiles eventually fall back down. --(Worth noting these moves get effected/altered by Robo-Ky Mk II in GGIsuka if you spend time to customize him.) --Gold/Gold EX Robo-Ky has Tension Regen and will never Overheat with max Heat Guage.

EX I-No --Has a ground dash and many moves based on GGXX incarnation. --Slightly different Overdrives. --Can use a unique move to do a ground-to-air dash. --Megalomania is a Burst Overdrive (can auto-FRC if you have Tension to alter the path of the Heartball lanes).  Costs Burst to use though. --Gold/Gold EX I-No has Health Regen/Speed Enhancement and Disharmonic Scale Note does maximum hits regardless of distance.

EX Sol --Many moves are based on GGX incarnation. --Jump Dust has an auto wall-bounce for easy Dustloops. --Many moves are based on Ky, and also have lots of Wallstick options. --Sidewinder followup to Volcanic Viper still has a Clean Hit option for silly combos. --Forcebreak version of classic Grand Viper (super enhanced by the way). --Fafnir > Tyrant Rave Forcebreak input is based on classic GGX Tyrant Rave. --Gold/Gold EX Sol has enhanced Flame Damage, Health Regen, Permanent Dragon Install, Full Tension, and enhanced Speed. --Be careful when using GG Generations Mode, as Sol loses certain Forcebreak moves if he's in GG or GGX Mode. --Still missing moves from Awakened Sol in GGIsuka (enhanced Riot Stamp would later get added to GGXrd incarnation though). --Ironically Gold Sol "loses" the Permanent Dragon Install hidden Overdrive that normal Sol had.

EX A.B.A. --Auto Berserk --Can use Forcebreak to recover Health!! --6H is swapped from Dangoku ender. --Slightly different normals. --Bakumetsu can damage anyone on the ground (was optimal in GGIsuka situations though). --Gold/Gold EX A.B.A. Sacrifice Mode health-loss is slightly reduced with more health gained when using a Blood pack. --Gold EX A.B.A. is in permanent Double-Edged Hell Mode (so you better be aggressive with her).

EX Kliff --Technically doesn't exist unless you switch from ACPlus to ACPlusR rebalance. --Gold Kliff has Infinite Tension, slow Walking speed, reduced dash/backdash.  Enhanced Ahead of Time (Sen no Sen) dodge time, enhanced Specials (with multiple hits), and enhanced Overdrives.

EX Justice --Technically doesn't exist unless you switch from ACPlus to ACPlusR (which is a terrible Nerf for her). --Gold Justice has Health Regen, and can fire any number of N.B.bombs on screen, and her speed is enhanced. --Black Justice in Accent Core is especially strong, though.

EX Order-Sol --Has a dash based on GG1 Breaker dash (has a P and K version). --Many moves based on GG1 Sol, but can be FRC'd. --Bandit Revolver and Jump Dust have different attack frames from regular Order-Sol. --Slightly different input for Dragon Install Instant Kill combo, but the consecutive hits are still the same. --Tyrant Rave has a HUGE stun value and can be spammed with enough Tension. --Rock-It is highly spammable like Ragna's Hell's Fang in this incarnation. --ForceBreaks are based on Dragon Install moves (don't use GG Mode EX Order-Sol unless you're prepared to lose these). --Classic All Guns Blazing Instant Kill. --Gold/Gold EX Order-Sol gains a move called Flame Distortion that acts like a super Dragon Install that lasts for 15 seconds: ---For Gold Order-Sol this regenerates Tension at double the rate, as well as Charge Gauge, and it Regens Health. ---Gold EX Order-Sol only benefits from Tension/Health gain. ---Gold/Gold EX Order-Sol: Dragon Install Instant Kill auto-inputs the full combo so long as the first hit connects. ---Worth noting that EX Order-Sol has TWO ways to Instant Kill an opponent.

[federalblu-britishmarksman]

west-harper​:

federalblu-britishmarksman​:

west-harper​:

Gently, Harper draws her finger to check on the pain on the robotic arm. For someone who had a long time dealing as a medical assistant before entering Mann. Co., Harper tries her best to fix whatever this pain might cause him to feel uneasy.

“As far as I could say, seems that the wire or "vein” in your robotic arm might have been worn out and that’s why you might of feeling a throbbing pain when your arm is relaxing.“

She gently pats his arm and says, "If you tell me earlier, I could help you fixing that in a matter of time. And about your leg, I’m not very sure what it was and it might be due to the nerves injuries you sustained previously.”

The answer behind his phantom pain made him raise an eyebrow again. When was the last time he had his arm fully examined like that? Then again, when was the last time he had that kind of checkup from his Engineer? “Usually phantom pains happened even without my arm since I can able to take it off. It’s not always attached to me, especially when I go to bed. But I can have Engineer check my arm for any worn out wires for replacing. I had this arm replaced a few years ago.”

As for the leg….

Nathan flexed his leg by bending it in and out before rolling the pants leg up as far as it allow to show the woman where it ends. Showing the stitching as well. “Leg transplant obviously.” He rolled it down. “I was lucky that night when someone passed away but because there was no time to examined the health status of the deceased or find someone else to somewhat match my skintone, they just stitched it up to me. It didn’t happened after a couple of years later I got it.”

Harper nodded after listening to his statement and thought her earlier commentary on the first check-up of his arm was rather, doesn’t make any sense. For the leg problem, Harper couldn’t think of any comment about it except for listening to a professional advice from the German doctor himself, Medic.

“Have you ever taken any medication to reduce those pain on your leg before? I just thought I should ask you about it, since that was the first thing came up to my mind.”

Harper sat on her original seats now and said again, “And sorry if I asked too much question. I just.. care for the team, especially you.” She looks away from his face after giving him a small smiles. As far as West has been working as an Agent and also before joining Mann. Co., she has seen the worst one. Honestly, after seeing his condition, West had develop a sympathy for a guy like him.

That was something he can’t recall. It was obvious that he never went to see the original doctor who did the leg transplant since he left the hospital. He never got a chance to before his grandparents decided to ship him back to London once he graduated from high school in New York. It’s been a decade since and he has never thought of that. Not even his own mother who was once a doctor too.

“I can’t remember. I don’t know if I was ever given medication. Not even a followup.” His hand went over the knee and rubbed it. “It’s been so long ago.”

The green dot that acts as his pupil glanced at her from the corner of his eye. “Why must you apologize if you care for the team?” He asked her, leaning back again and this time bringing up right leg up, and resting his hand on top of his knee. “If it’s your job then you can apologize, but because you say you care for us, then it’s no need to apologize.” Nathan decided to reach his arm out as gentle as he is, tapped his cold finger under her jaw before offering her a soft smile. “Actions works more than words.”

𝙻𝚘𝚞𝚍 & 𝙳𝚎𝚊𝚏𝚎𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚂𝚒𝚕𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎, 𝙸𝙸. 𝙰𝚗𝚐𝚜𝚝:

Company ( @west-harper )

@west-harper

❛   company .   silently  sit  with  my  muse  to  comfort  them. 

He didn’t think anyone would be awake, then again he shouldn’t underestimate those who are light sleepers. No matter how much proofing they could make their gym to prevent any noises slipping out through those two doors, someone is bound to wake up to the sound of the punching bag at 2 in the morning.

His leg was acting up again and no matter how many times he have tried to massage the pain away, it still aches and it made his phantom pain happen soon. A cause to unable to sleep.

After a moment of silence, wondering why she decided to sit next him without saying a word if he caused her to wake up, Nathan finally spoke. “Did I pulled you away from a good dream?”

[metalraindrops]

"Don't chase the rabbit"

The sky is falling. Orange meteors streak through the inky black. The stars are nowhere to be seen; the friction burn of drop pods screaming into the atmosphere at hypersonic velocities drowning them out, noise overpowering the signal.

Douglas is in a city and he’s moving quickly through the streets. He’s following somebody - a woman, from the looks of it. Her armor’s a little older. It’s been upgraded to handle the rigors of modern combat - but modern combat is brutal nonetheless. She’s already been shot a couple of times; her chestplate is heavily damaged. It doesn’t look like it’ll resist the wind, let alone a bullet.

They’re talking. Nervous energy. Mostly Douglas, though the words can’t be heard specifically. Just mumbling. The woman seems reassuring, somehow. Confident. “I’ll be fine,” she says. Not really. It’s just more mumbling, but it sure as hell sounds like that; what other conclusions can be drawn?

Their Titans aren’t anywhere around. In the distance you can hear the thump of metal on concrete and the sounds of gunfire, and all it does is confirm that yes, there’s a war going on. If the cars ditched everywhere and the occasional body and the rubble haven’t already confirmed it. A firefight’s already swept through here, but the district is quiet.

They reach a corner. There’s a park nearby. The woman moves to cross it, but Douglas’s hand shoots out like a grappling hook and reels her back in. Words are shared. Forceful, irritated words, but eventually she relents and the two head back. A standard maneuver; get some speed via a run, get more speed via the odd interaction between a Jump Kit and the wall, then slide to safety. It’s simple enough.

Douglas heads out first. He pushes himself into a sprint and then kicks himself up and onto the wall. The Jump Kit flares, working overtime to keep him glued to it as long as possible, but after half a second of running he kicks off the wall, having accelerated to a speed only hundred-metre runners could hope to achieve. The Pilot sails through the air, bringing his legs up and folding his knees, before he hits the ground. The Jump Kit fires off, boosting him across the street; in a hail of sparks he slides into cover.

The woman doesn’t move.

Silence reigns.

Douglas makes a noise of reassurance. It’s directed at the woman. But as he watches her back up, taking a second to look at her ass in a way that would have been perverted if it weren’t for the fact they’d had sex before, he repeats it again to himself. Like he’s the one that needs reassurance.

The woman runs up and kicks onto the wall. She runs across it and jumps into the air, as graceful as a swan, and then a sniper rifle cracks and a bullet shoots sideways through her chest. Her weakened armor can’t resist it. Douglas can’t tell yet, but the bullet’s punched through her spine, right through the nerves. The shock has already killed her. She crumples to the floor like a sack of meat instead of a battle-hardened warrior.

Grunts rise up from the woodwork. Against Douglas’s better nature, he opens fire. He’s got an R-101; a Frontier classic. He’d been hearing rumors of an upgrade package, but as he starts mowing down everyone trying to get close to his girlfriend those thoughts don’t even exist.

Another bullet hits the ground near him and he ducks back into cover just in time for the second one to pass through the space his head occupied. He can only conclude one thing, based on how fast and accurate that followup shot was; that the sniper up there is also a Pilot. He looks out towards Selene’s corpse, not wanting to leave it, but the frag grenade that lands next to him serves as a good motivator.

People are screaming at him over the radio but he doesn’t hear them. Their voices go in one ear and out the other. He’s got a job to do; he doesn’t even compute the fact that they exist. He breaks some glass and holds it out past the corner, and a bullet shatters it in his hand. That sniper has him pinned.

He yells something into the radio and somebody talks back to him. He tries to listen, but some Spectres round the corner and he magdumps into them. It takes care of the problem. He ditches the magazine. He doesn’t really care about it. You can 3D print your own or buy some spares. People are tougher to replace.

Fortunately, the person on the other end is nice enough to repeat herself. And this cuts through the haze of remembrance;

This operation’s a loss. Get into your Titan and get to the extraction zone.

NO! I am NOT LEAVING HER HERE!

Hammerhead, that is a god damn order! She’s fucking dead, her biometrics don’t lie! We are not losing another Pilot!

FUCK OFF!

There’s stomping behind him and he grabs his Archer, turning around to sight it in on his Titan. A sage green Ogre, kitted just as he likes it. Douglas lowers the rocket launcher and runs towards the machine, its massive hatch opening up to accept him.

He knows, on a fundamental level, that he has to go. That staying here means his death. But he’s not leaving Selene behind, so he walks out past the cover of the building and over to her body. A few Grunts are poking around at it, and when they see Goliath himself start striding over they back the hell up and run to cover. He kneels down, looking at her, and then something clanks against his Ogre’s hull. He looks to the side and sees the culprit; a Pilot with a Charge Rifle flying towards him, grappling hook latched onto the side of his machine body. His Ogre is warning him about the grappling hook, but he can’t hear it over the sight of a smoking Longbow dangling behind him.

There is a moment of clarity unlike any he’s experienced as he wrenches the Ogre’s arm to grab onto the hook so fast he swears the man that killed his girlfriend double takes. The enemy Pilot charges their rifle and scores a hole in the Titan’s side, but Douglas pulls the cable and the man crashes into the Titan, falling to the ground.

Douglas lifts a foot and brings it down. He twists it, to make sure.

Then he kneels down. He passes his 40mm to his off-hand, opens the hatch, and reaches out with a giant arm, gently picking up Selene’s body and lifting it to the hatch, where it drops into his own awaiting arms.

Then he shuts the hatch and heads to the extraction point. Tears brim in his eyes. Selene lies against him. She doesn’t move. She doesn’t breathe. She’s almost like a destroyed Spectre, and if it weren’t for her smell and the fact her blood’s dripping down his chestplate he could almost be fooled. He almost wants to be fooled. But he knows the truth.

He makes it to the EZ. It’s a madhouse. He gets aboard the Widow, with the rest of Voyager firing out of it, and then the Titan carrier lifts off, heading to rendevouz with the Monaco and transfer the Titans onboard to it. He doesn’t notice the fact Selene’s titan is next to him. He’s too busy crying into her shoulder, having ripped his helmet off to try and take in as much of her as he can, because he’ll never get to do this or anything else with her again.

He doesn’t remember much else about the rest of that day.